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willalove75 · 7 months

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I swear I'm almost done with the next chapter of Alcina's New Maid but domestic!Alcina has had me in a fucking chokehold and I need to braindump this so I can move on😅

Tags: smut, tooth-rotting fluff, idk I think that's it if I missed anything lmk it's 3am and I'm exhausted lmao

Warnings: None.

A/N: I finished this at 3am and didn't proof-read it so please kindly ignore any errors. Maybe I'll edit this tomorrow, maybe not. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

18+ Only Minors DNI

"I thought I told you to stay still." Alcina growls in your ear.

"You're taking so long!" You say with a groan, throwing your head back into the pillows.

"Shh." She says as she kisses up and down the side of your neck. "Let me enjoy being buried inside of you."

"Alcinaaa." You whine. "It's not even a real dick! You're just torturing me!"

"I'm imagining what it would feel like if it were real, my love. Your warm, wet cunt clenching around me, my hard cock throbbing deep inside of you." She says, dragging her teeth along your earlobe.

You whine out in protest once more, desperate for her to make any kind of movement. In defiance, you try and rock your hips into her but she stops you, grabbing hold of you and pushing them back down into the bed.

"Fine, I'll just pull all the way out then and we can go downstairs and watch a movie instead." She says as she begins to pull her hips away from yours.

"No!" You shout, crossing your ankles behind her hips and pulling her back into place. She falls back into you without putting up a fight, a knowing smirk crossing her lips as you wrap your arms around her neck so your bodies are flush against one another.

"So needy." She murmurs as she kisses along your jawline.

"For you? Always." Alcina smirks into your skin and continues to kiss every inch. "Please, just stop torturing me!"

"And what if I want to fuck you into the mattress? Or blow your back out?" She asks, nibbling on your neck causing your eyes to flutter shut.

"Yes! Please, anything!"

"What if I want to fuck you softly and just make love to you all night long?"

"You can have me any way you want me baby, just please fuck me!" You say as she lifts her head and looks into your eyes. A glint of excitement shimmering in her gorgeous grey irises.

"Any way?" She asks and you nod your head in response, taking your bottom lip between your teeth. "Mm, that's a dangerous promise draga mea. You spoil me."

"No more than you spoil me." You say before she presses her lips into yours.

Threading your fingers in her hair, you deepen the kiss as you pull her closer. Alcina leans down onto her forearms and slides her hands under your shoulders, pressing you further into her. Her tongue caresses your lips and you part them, eagerly inviting her into your mouth.

While she has you distracted with her skillful tongue she begins to rock her hips, causing you to sigh a moan of relief into her mouth. Thrusting at a steady pace, you keep your legs locked around her; the need to keep her as close as possible is just as strong as the need for her to fuck you.

Alcina pulls her lips from yours before you both run out of oxygen, the two of you gasping for air. Her hot breath comes out in pants against your skin and she buries her face into your neck before picking up the pace, fucking you faster and harder. The long strap sinks deeper into you as you roll your hips to meet each one of her delicious thrusts, causing both of you to moan. Each time you meet her thrust the back of the strap grinds against her clit and presses perfectly into your g-spot.

After one perfectly timed roll of your hips you hear Alcina moan into your shoulder and you let out a huff of pride.

"What?" She asks as she continues pounding into you.

"Nothing, I'm just glad you're enjoying this as much as I am." You say between pants.

"Mm, I always enjoy you, dragostea mea."

Sex with Alcina has always been mind-blowing, ever since the first time you slept together. Before you met you had your fair share of lovers, but you never felt such passion, such intense pleasure with anyone until her. From the very first date it felt like she put you under a spell. Never before have you met someone so alluring, so beautiful, someone who made things seem so impossibly easy. You had promised yourself long ago that you wouldn't sleep with anyone on the first few dates; but with Alcina, you found yourself tangled with her in her silk bedsheets only after the second date. The two of you pulled countless orgasms from each other all night long and to your surprise, instead of her kicking you out when it was over, she invited you into her shower and pulled you back into bed with her to stay the night. Part of you wanted to turn down her offer, fearful that you would wake up in this near-strangers home alone the next morning. But you saw the look in her eyes, the way she gently took her bottom lip between her teeth, looking almost bashful and all thoughts of turning her down fled your mind. So with her arms tightly wrapped around you, the two of you fell into a deep sleep.

When you woke up the next morning you were almost uncomfortably cold. It was then you realized it was because Alcina stole almost all of the covers, leaving you with just the corner of the bedsheet for warmth. As gently as you could, (it took more effort than you were expecting), you pried the comforter from her and curled into her warm body. She responded with a groan and a slight shiver, mumbling out "you're cold." in her half-asleep state.

"Well you did steal all the covers." You replied.

Alcina chuckled and rolled over to face you, with half-lidded eyes she held out her arms towards you, encouraging you into them.

"I'm sorry." She mumbled. "Come, let me help you warm up."

The two of you were almost hesitant towards the amount of intimacy you were showing each other so soon, but you curled into her and she wrapped her arms around you anyway. She jerked when your cold hands rested against her back and you immediately pulled them away with an apology. Taking your cold hands into hers, she held them in one of her large hands close to her chest while she brushed your hair out of your face with the other before threading her fingers through and resting it at the back of your head. Her legs found yours under the covers and she began to tangle them together, jerking once more when your ice cold feet met her skin.

Mumbling another apology, she shook her head at you and responded "no need for apologies, it is my fault after all. What a terrible host I am, leaving you to freeze in my bed. I should have warned you, I have a habit of being a cover hog."

Her morning voice was deeper and raspier than usual, as attractive as it was (and it was attractive) you also found it comforting. It was something you could listen to all day and never get bored of.

"It's alright, you seem to be making up for it now." You say as the two of you snuggle into each other.

"I could also make it up to you in other ways as well." She says, a smirk evident in her voice.

"I also wouldn't be opposed to that." You say, gazing into her sleepy, lust-filled eyes.

Alcina softly kisses you and rests her chin on top of your head.

"More sleep first, repayment later."

As you fell back asleep in her arms, you realized that you could wake up like this every morning for the rest of your life and never want anything else. At first the thought terrified you, you had only met this woman one other time, how delusional were you to think something like that? You did your best to push it out of your mind for as long as possible. However, every time you saw each other, every time you spoke, the word "love" always seemed to be lurking close by. It wasn't until months after you made your relationship official did you find out that on that particular morning, the same thought crossed Alcina's mind too.

That second date was years ago now, since then the two of you got married and you gave birth to your three beautiful daughters. Much to your delight, the passion between the two of you never faded - if anything, the fire burned brighter over time. Of course there were fights and disagreements, but the love you two shared always outweighed the bad. And the sex? Forget it. Once you had a taste of her you never needed anything from anyone else ever again. It was passionate, hard, rough, experimental at times, it was beautiful and full of love and no matter what direction it went in, there was always room for a little laughter and playfulness. It was something you've never had before and you cherished it more than anything.

Never in your life could you have imagined loving someone as much as you love Alcina. The thought could make your heart burst.

Hot kisses across your jaw and cheek accompanied by a deep, hard thrust brought you back into the moment. A low moan pulled from your lips.

"Where did you go there, draga?" Alcina asks with a husky voice.

She pulls back to look you in the eyes, examining your face to make sure you're okay. Her thrusts didn't falter, but you saw the concern in her eyes and the little crinkle that formed between her eyebrows when she was worried. Her grey-blue eyes shimmered and she nearly took your breath away.

Your lips parted but no words came out, your chest filling with love for the woman on top of you. Her hips began to slow and you held her tighter against you, silently encouraging her to continue.

"I - I was just thinking about how much I love you. How grateful I am for you." Pulling her closer, you brush your lips against hers. "I love you, Alcina. With everything I have."

Alcina's breath hitches in her chest and you can feel the stutter against yours. Pulling her down, your lips nearly crash together and both of your hips pick up the pace as they grind against each other. Her nails bury themselves into your shoulder blades while you reach down and grab her ass with one hand, pushing her deeper into you, and grab hold of the hair on the back of her head with the other.

The two of you swallow each others moans before parting for air again, panting and whimpering into each other as you both race to the edge.

"I love you, draga mea. I love you so much." She whimpers into your ear as you two continue to fuck each other.

Each time one of you moans a little too loudly the other one tries to shush you, fearful that your daughters will hear the unsavory noises coming from the bedroom. Your bodies glide along each other as a layer of sweat develops between you, which only spurs you both on more. Your ankles uncross to allow harder thrusts from Alcina, but you squeeze her hips between your thighs to keep her as close as possible.

Her groans rumble deep in her chest while your whimpers get higher, signaling to each other that you're both getting close.

"Fuck, Alcina, just like that."

"You're gonna make me come. I know how close you are, aren't you?" She asks, to which you respond with only a whimper. "Mph, fuck yes, I want you to come with me baby."

"Yes, oh god yes!"

Both of your movements become less calculated and more frantic, desperate to push each other over the edge. The orgasm you've built grows stronger and stronger before you're both fucking each other wildly, chasing your own and each others orgasms at the same time.

"Alci - I'm - I'm gonna -"

"Yes, yes baby yes!"

The grip you have on one another tightens as you both go flying over the edge together, tumbling down into a ravine of absolute pleasure. The strap sinks deep into your g-spot and your back arches off the bed, your eyes roll back into your head as you let out a silent scream. Alcina buries her face into the side of your neck, muffling her groan of release as the explosion from her bundle of sensitive nerves shoots through her body. Your bodies become one as you share your release. Limbs trembling around one another, nails biting deeply into skin, hips riding out the remainder of your orgasms, both for your own sakes and for each others. You swear you can feel Alcina's heart beating against your chest and you're sure she can feel yours as well.

As the waves of pleasure relent the two of you still your movements and the clouds in your mind slowly fade away, leaving the two of you panting against one another. The two of you lay in your post-orgasmic bliss for a few moments in silence, enjoying the feeling of your bodies pressed impossibly close together as the strap is still buried deep within you. Alcina's nails leave your shoulders, no doubt leaving little crescent shaped marks behind, as yours release from being buried in her ass cheek - positive you've left a matching set on her skin as well.

Alcina presses soft kisses into your shoulder and neck as you hold each other tight before she sits up enough to capture your lips in a loving kiss. With your attention on her lips, she gently slides the strap out, eliciting you to groan into her mouth. The wet silicone lays against your stomach as Alcina continues to kiss you. Before she pulls away completely she looks deeply into your eyes. Just from the way she's looking at you, you know exactly what she wants to say. Even though she doesn't have to, she says "I love you, draga mea. More than I ever have and ever could love anyone else. You make me the luckiest woman on this earth."

"You make me the luckiest woman on this earth. I love you so much, Alci."

The following morning you wake up to an empty bed, which isn't unusual since Alcina tends to wake at the crack of dawn. What you weren't expecting, however, was for the girls to be seated at the kitchen table and for breakfast to be made when you get downstairs. At ages nine and ten, Cassandra and Bela are happily eating their pancakes and waffles while your six year old, Daniela, is seated next to Alcina who is helping her cut into her waffle.

"Well this is a lovely surprise." You say as you walk over to Alcina and bend down to kiss her.

Bela and Cassandra make audible noises of disgust which are quickly silenced by one look from their mother.

"Sit down my love, eat." Alcina says as she gets up and makes you your morning cup of tea. She places a kiss at the top of your head after handing you your mug and returns to assisting Daniela.

It was a wonderfully pleasant breakfast with minimal arguing between the girls and much to your surprise, minimal mess as well.

The girls start to get themselves ready for school and Alcina gets herself ready for work while you wash off the dishes and place them in the dishwasher. Alcina walks up behind you, snaking her arms around your waist and presses a kiss to your cheek before resting her chin on your shoulder. She begins to gently sway back and fourth while she hums and you let out a giggle as you try to finish the dishes.

Alcina reaches in front of you and turns off the sink as her swaying continues.

"What on earth are you doing?" You say with a laugh, grabbing the dish towel and drying your hands.

Spinning you around, Alcina takes one of your hands in hers and places the other on your waist. She expertly leads you in a slow dance while her humming turns into her softly singing. Laying your head on her chest, the two of you bask in the spontaneous romantic moment she's created. For just a few moments, the world fades away and it's just the two of you - you and your wife, the love of your life, enjoying the peacefulness of each others embrace.

The moment doesn't last long - with three young kids and a business to run it never does. But for the few moments you both were able to get lost in another world together, you find yourself falling in love with Alcina over and over again.

#willalove75 #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #wlw fanfic #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu fanfic #re8 alcina #alcina x female reader #alcina dimitrescu x reader #alcina x reader #resident evil alcina #lady alcina #re8 lady dimitrescu #re8 fanfiction #re8 village

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dunmeshistash · 4 months

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Dungeon Meshi FAQ

Before you send an ask consider checking this FAQ! I'm trying to compile some of the most common questions I see in my notes and inbox. Feel free to send me an ask anyway if you find anything confusing!

But first just some things about asks... I read all of them and feel kinda bad when I don't respond but I can't really respond to everything so:

Most likely will respond:

Requests for sources/images

Requests for links to other posts

Questions about the story or characters (as long as they haven't been repeated in a short while)

Questions about my opinion on canon content/speculation based on canon

Most likely won't respond: (usually cause idk what to say to it)

Headcanons/Shipping

Jokes

Discourse/Rants

Questions that have been repeated in a short time

FAQ under the cut (there's spoilers)

FAQ

First of all just a disclaimer that I don't actually know everything I try to put sources on the posts but if you see anything wrong here please let me know!

Q: Where is this extra/information from?

A: Dungeon Meshi has several worldbuilding details and extra comics in different publications. You can check this post with the places where the extras/information sources

If you wanna know the source for a specific extra don't be afraid to ask!

Q: Have you ever posted about [subject]

A: I haven't posted about everything related to dungeon meshi but please check my pinned post! I have a list of tags there, if you don't find specifically what you were looking try to search for it on my blog, I do my best to tag stuff so it can be found. If you still have trouble just send me an ask and I can link you the tag!

Q: How old is Thistle?

A: Who knows! Mostly likely he's under 80 (16 in tallmen years) my best guess is that he's 14.

Q: Is there a post Canon Melini Map?

A: Not really (Spoilers)

Q: Isn't Izutsumi a cat that was transformed into a human?

A: That's not a very accurate description, Izutsumi is a beastkin who was created using ancient magic by fusing the soul of a 6 year old child with the soul of a cat monster known as a greater cat. She's not "A cat that was turned into a human" nor a "human that was turned into a cat" as my understanding goes she was both and now she's still both, spoilers but the plot twist of the Lycion extra is that she can never be fully human again (there's more monster than human so she can't transform between the forms like Lycion)

I made a few posts about it

Q: Are fairies made of Jizz? How do females make them? How come Mithrun's doesn't look like him? Can other races make them?

A: Yes. They probably borrow some. Another person feeds it blood. Probably? For better answers please check the fairy tag LOL

Q: Are there monsters outside dungeons?

A: All points to yes, dungeons just seem to have a higher density of mana which allows more monsters to survive in a higher population.

Q: Is resurrection possibly in any dungeons or only in The Island?

A: According to the adventurer's bibles most man-made dungeons have the revival magic active. Here's a post all about resurrection and healing magic:

Q: Why did Fleki get brain damage when her Familiar got destroyed and Marcille didn't?

A: Probably has something to do with the complexity of the familiar and the strength of the connection, lots of people sent some theories pleas check the familiars tag if you wanna read up.

Q: What does the tattoos mean? What do Magic Tattoos do? Only beastmen have tattoos?

A: Those are Magic Tattoos, they work as a supplement for magic, I assume similar to magic circles or magic runes they use in other places in the anime, they aren't necessarily only for beastmen

Q: How does Mana/The Winged Lion/Dungeons work? (and related questions)

A: I made a post about dungeons you might wanna check, haven't done specific posts for the greater demon/winged lion but you can check the tags for some theories/other asks!

I think that's it for now? I'll add more things later if I see more common questions

Mini FAQ about the person running this blog (cause I get a couple of questions sometimes)

Q: Whats your pronouns? Are you brazilian? What do I call you?

A: There's a tiny about me section at the end of my pinned post I'd rather you use she/her or he/him, but they/them is fine, I'm very brazilian and you can call me whatever, Cyan is just a suggestion. You can also check this side blog, it's me

Q: What do you think about [headcanon]/[ship]

A: I probably think it's neat but cant elaborate cause either I'm being socially anxious or I'm afraid of saying something that will generate discourse on my notes LOL

Q: Could you tag [thing]

A: Yes! Please tell me if you'd like me to tag something, both cws or just something you think would be useful to search for. I'm very unaware of what can be upsetting ngl so I often forget to tag 'obvious' triggers, I'm also forgetful and have trouble expressing myself, so feel free to tell me if I said something weird but be nice pwease

#FAQ #dunmeshistash #long post

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sapphichotmess · 4 months

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Absolutely Smitten

Modern!Ellie Williams x Plus Size!f!Reader (not really specified but that’s what I write)

Name inspired by Dodie’s song Absolutely Smitten

Even though this is not 18+, I am an 18+ blog, mdni

read the second part here!!

Warnings/Tags: horrendous writing (not edited) with very little dialogue (idk how to human), fluff, meet cute, rushed ending, reader is able-bodied

~2.7k words

I am up to doing more parts of this! Maybe?

The melted-butter-colored morning sun filters through the windows of a quaint bakery, casting a warm glow across the wooden-floored interior. Birds chirp their songs, squirrels scutter up trees, causing the rustling of leaves, and an owl up too late calls out one last time. Such a beautiful sight is cause for a relaxing morning.

“Fuck!”

You curse as the all-too-familiar clatter of metal hitting the floor pierces the peaceful atmosphere of the bakery, abruptly drawing your attention away from the serene scene outside. Your brain still wanders as your non-stick shoes squeak on the tile flooring of the bakery, and it doesn’t catch up until you’re nearly toe-to-toe with disaster. Flour dusts otherwise pristine countertops like a fresh layer of snow and cascades like a white waterfall onto the floor. Bread dough clings stubbornly to multiple places in the kitchen: the countertop, the edges of the mixing bowl, and even the crevices between the tiles on the floor. Amidst the mess stood the culprit—a temperamental mixer that seemed to have a mind of its own recently.

"Of all the mornings for this to happen," you mutter, placing one hand on your head and one on your hip in frustration. This wasn't how you envisioned starting your day, but in the unforgiving world of small business ownership, setbacks like this were all too common.

With a resigned sigh, you set to work cleaning up the sticky, floury mess. You grab a towel and begin trying to wipe down the countertops first. The flour wipes off easily, some getting caught in the towel and some falling to the floor to be swept up. However, the dough sticks to the granite countertops no matter what you do. Your brows pinch in and your lips pull down at the edges as you realize that the dough is proving to be far more stubborn than anticipated. You try scraping it off with the edge of the towel, but it only smears and clings to the counter. Each attempt to remove it seems futile, making your blood boil.

Glancing over at the mixer, you can't help but feel a twinge of resentment towards the outdated piece of shit equipment. It had been a constant source of trouble lately, breaking down at the most inconvenient times and causing endless headaches.

Shaking your head at yourself for being mad at a machine, you step back, put your hands on your wide hips, and let out a controlled breath. You have to figure out how to fix this. And fast. Your bakery opens in—you look up to a clock and read the hands—shit! It opens in three hours!

Looking over the kitchen, you contemplate what you should do, trying to find an approach to cleaning up and getting a new batch of dough ready in three hours. As you focus on the mixer-made mess, inspiration strikes, and you bustle around to find a small bowl and a sponge, filling the bowl up with warm water. Your chest never rises, and you take slow, deliberate steps toward the mess with the full bowl, hoping it doesn’t tip and make an even bigger mess. When you make it to your destination, you dampen the sponge and gently dab at the dough, hoping that the moisture will help loosen its grip on the countertop.

To your relief, the tactic seems to work, albeit slowly. The dough begins to soften under the gentle pressure of the sponge, gradually loosening its hold on the granite surface. With careful persistence, you continue to work, methodically removing the stubborn remnants of dough until the countertops are once again clean and smooth. Once the dough is removed from the countertop, you get on your hands and knees to begin scrubbing it from the floor. This takes only a few minutes with the sponge and hot water. Finally, once all the pesky dough is removed from each and every nook and cranny, you grab the broom and start sweeping the flour from the floor.

As you sweep, your mind drifts to the tasks still left to do before opening time. Glancing at the clock, you realize you have less than three hours left. You nearly drop the broom from shock, not realizing that 30 minutes had gone by—you still need to get the new dough ready and finish the rest of the opening tasks.

Owning and managing this bakery by yourself is fucking difficult but you love it.

The aroma of fresh coffee fills the air as you start brewing a batch, ensuring that your customers will have their caffeine fix ready when the doors open. Meanwhile, you preheat the oven and begin preparing the day's first batch of pastries, expertly shaping dough into delicate croissants and twisting it into intricate shapes and florets for cinnamon rolls.

Trays of pastries fill the shelves, their golden crusts glistening invitingly in the soft morning light, now higher in the sky. The sound of the oven timer beeping signals that the first batch of cinnamon rolls is ready, and you quickly remove them from the heat, the tantalizing scent of warm cinnamon, brown butter, caramelized brown sugar, and yeasty bread filling the air.

With the rolls cooling on the counter, you turn your attention to the display case, arranging everything with steady hands and care to showcase their deliciousness to potential customers. The final touches are added—a dusting of powdered sugar here, a drizzle of simple syrup there—before you step back to admire your handiwork with a satisfied smile.

With only minutes to spare before opening time, you quickly tidy up the kitchen, wiping down countertops and washing dishes with practiced efficiency. The last of the flour is swept away, leaving the floor sparkling clean and ready to welcome customers.

Finally, shoes squeaking, you make it to the front entrance to unlock the door and flip the ‘closed’ sign to ‘open.’

But as you turn to walk back behind the counter, you hear a familiar bell ring.

The bell hanging above the door you just unlocked. The one you still stand in front of, back turned.

Suddenly, the floor is flying towards you, just a blur of dark hardwood before your eyes flutter closed, and all you can see is darkness.

When your eyes flutter open, pain explodes through your body, your eyebrows scrunching and eyes clenched back shut. Your chest heaves with labored breaths and your heart races like it’s trying to break from your ribcage. Stars dance behind your eyelids as you struggle to regain your bearings, disoriented and dazed from the sudden fall.

What the fuck just happened?

Slowly, agonizingly, you manage to push yourself into a sitting position, blinking away the haze of confusion to assess the damage. Your head throbs with each accelerated heartbeat, a dull ache spreading through your limbs as you tentatively move to check for visible injuries. But before you can fully process what has just happened, a shadow falls over you, and a voice cuts through the fog of pain and confusion.

"Shit, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

The raspy voice is laced with concern, tinged with a hint of panic, and it takes a moment for the words to register. When they do, you turn to see a figure kneeling beside you, their features blurred by the remnants of your fall.

Struggling to focus and blinking hard to try and clear your vision, you manage to make out a pair of piercing green eyes staring back at you, filled with genuine worry, auburn eyebrows drawn in, causing worry lines to appear between them. As your vision fully clears, the face comes into sharper focus, and you realize that you've never seen this person before.

She sports a somewhat slender jawline, high cheekbones, proportional top and bottom lips—both somewhat plush—and fair skin smattered with freckles the looked like an artist took their brush and flung paint at them.

Despite the pain pulsing through your head and the disorientation of the fall, you find yourself momentarily captivated by the stranger's striking features. There's an undeniable warmth in her pale green gaze, a kindness that puts you at ease in spite of the awkwardness of the situation. Her eyebrows are still pulled together, the sight of the lines in between them making you want to reach out and smooth them away.

She cocks her head slightly, her short auburn hair swishing with the movement and catching a ray of sun, turning slightly red—the color reminds you of a brown border collie’s fur. As you follow the movement with your eyes, you register her earlier question. With pain still throbbing in your head you manage a weak nod, unable to find your voice amidst the chaos of the moment. The stranger's expression softens with relief at your response, the worry lines between her brows fading, and she reaches out a hand to help you to your feet.

"Here, let me help you up," she offers, her voice gentle as she assists you in standing. "I really didn't mean to slam the door like that. Are you sure you're okay?"

You manage another slight nod, though the throbbing in your head protests with each movement. Your eyes swim and something roils in your stomach, nausea curling up your esophagus. Taking a deep breath, you steady yourself with the captivating stranger's support, her hands gently holding you around waist height so as to not make you uncomfortable.

Well, fall would be an understatement—it was more like a push to the floor.

Assaulted by your own door.

God, could this morning get any worse?

As you gain footing, knees no longer shaking—though if you keep looking into those eyes, they might start all over again—the stranger lets go of you, her right hand swiping over the top of her nose before both hands are tucked in her pockets. A soft blush spreads on her cheeks, moving up from her neck all the way into her hairline.

She still seems concerned, though, softly asking, "Are you sure you're okay?"

A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips at her sheepish expression. "I think so," you manage to reply, your voice faint but steady. "Just a bit shaken up, I guess."

The stranger nods in understanding, her expression softening with relief, though the blush stays. "I'm glad to hear that," she says, her tone genuine. "I really didn't mean to barrel into you with the door like that. I was just in a hurry, and… well, I guess I wasn't paying attention."

Despite the circumstances, you can't help but chuckle breathlessly at her admission. "No harm done," you assure her, your grin widening, cheeks pushing up and making your eyes squint. "Just a little stumble, that's all."

With a shared laugh, the tension and awkwardness between you begin to bleed from the atmosphere. The stranger offers you a warm smile, straight white teeth glittering in the mid-morning sunlight, and a glimmer of amusement dancing in her eyes.

"By the way," she says, extending a slightly shaking hand towards you, "I'm Ellie. Ellie Williams."

You grasp her hand in a firm shake, a sense of gratitude washing over you at the charming introduction. You were nervous standing here in front of this… piece of art sculpted by the likes of Michelangelo, and you knew you would have stumbled and made a fool while introducing yourself. Besides, her slight awkwardness is cute.

You give her your name back, saying, "Nice to meet you, Ellie," with a small grin, the remnants of a chuckle still lingering in the back of your throat, threatening to creep up as she shuffles on her feet awkwardly. “Though I don’t know if it is very nice since you kind of slammed into me with a door…”

She jerks as though hit with something, eyebrows shooting up and eyes widening in shock. Her face darkens more, further showcasing freckles artistically splattered across her face. She stammers out another apology, her words tumbling over each other in her rush to express her regret.

"I-I'm so sorry," she says, her voice wavering with embarrassment. "I didn't mean to... I mean, I've been wanting to come into the bakery for a while now, and I guess I got a little too excited, and..."

Her words trail off into awkward silence as mortification registers on her face, her shoulders folding up towards her ears. She shifts on her feet uncomfortably, unable to meet your gaze. It's clear that Ellie is flustered, her cheeks flushed the deepest red you’ve ever seen as she struggles to articulate her thoughts.

Despite your lips turning up into a slight smile and choking on the giggles that tried to escape at the poor girl, you can't help but feel a surge of sympathy for her. "No harm done," you assure her, your grin softening. "Just a little unexpected introduction, that's all."

Ellie's shoulders relax slightly at your words, a shy smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Thank you," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

As Ellie continues to fidget nervously, hand dragging over her nose again, you sense that there's more to her awkwardness than meets the eye. So, you offer her a kind word of reassurance. "You know," you begin, "you're always welcome here at the bakery. No need to rush next time."

At your invitation, Ellie's eyes light up with gratitude, looking more like an excited dog by the minute. "Thank you," she says, her voice light and filled with genuine appreciation as she bounces on her heels, her auburn hair dancing with her movement.

Feeling your cheeks heat at the depth of her stare, you find yourself fidgeting this time. There's something about Ellie's enthusiasm that's infectious, drawing you in despite the lingering discomfort from your fall.

Before you can gather your thoughts, Ellie reaches for a nearby pcake display, her eyes alight with anticipation. "I think I'll take one of these," she says, pointing to a freshly baked red velvet cupcake nestled among its companions.

You watch as she pays for her purchase, a sense of admiration growing within you for her unbridled enthusiasm. Despite the chaos of the morning, Ellie's presence has brought a ray of sunshine into your day, and you find yourself feeling grateful for the chance encounter.

Taking a moment to appreciate the way she lights up the room with her infectious energy, you can't help but wonder about the person behind the cheerful facade. There's a warmth in her eyes and a genuineness in her smile that speaks volumes, leaving you intrigued and wanting to learn more about her. And there's an undeniable chemistry between you, a connection that feels both unexpected and strangely familiar.

So, you summon up your courage to do something probably wholly unprofessional as a business owner. You take a deep breath and meet Ellie's green gaze head-on. "Hey, um, would it be okay if I got your number?" you ask, your voice tentative but earnest.

Ellie's eyes widen in surprise at your request, but her smile only grows wider. "Of course!" she exclaims with a small scoff-like laugh, her enthusiasm bubbling over. "I'd love that."

With a sense of relief flooding through you, you fumble for your phone, fingers trembling slightly as you input Ellie's number. As you exchange contact information, a sense of excitement blooms within you, fueled by the prospect of getting to know Ellie better.

With a final exchange of smiles and promises to stay in touch, you bid Ellie farewell, watching as she heads off down the street with a spring in her step. As you turn back to the bakery, a sense of anticipation fills your chest, mingled with the lingering ache of your fall.

With a final nod of assurance to yourself, you straighten up and take a step forward. Despite the unexpected start to your encounter, there's something strangely comforting about Ellie's presence—as if fate had intervened to bring you together in that moment of chaos.

taglist

@les4elliewilliams @abbyshands

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the-maddened-hatter · 9 months

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Some Hazbin Hotel death symbolism theories/headcanons

So yeah this is gonna be darker since the show literally revolves around characters in hell

Tw for drugs, suicide, murder, cannibalism, mentions of racism & and idk what to call it like in-character cultural insensitivity (if anyone knows how to tag that better lmk) , and various forms of abuse under the read more

Also I know these will probably get disproven within like 5 minutes once the show comes out, but I think they'd still be cool for an AU or something!

Vaggie: I'm gonna start out with a potentially controversial theory here: Her death X eye could be more symbolic than literal, with her choosing to "turn a blind eye" to something in life that eventually lead to her committing suicide out of guilt, and her moth features symbolizing her having been focused on a certain goal or priority to a selfish or harmful degree in life like a "moth to a flame". Putting these together, maybe she allowed something to happen either to someone directly or in such a way that they ended up being harmed/killed in the pursuit of a goal or belief and once she realized the scope of her actions she committed suicide. Maybe once she's in hell she's all but forced into a career of a bodyguard for the ruling families of hell as some kind of ironic punishment (though in her particular case it ends up working out well for her since she and Charlie fall in love)

Since her moth features are much less pronounced than Valentino, perhaps it serves as a reflection of how she realized the harm her selfish focus caused before she died.

Speaking of him, Valentino's highly pronounced moth features could suggest that his selfish focuses were much worse and more self-serving than Vaggie's were (unsurprising given his character) and his addictive smoke powers could mean he died in a fire (my theory is he went into a club that he ran during a fire to retrieve a stache of money and drugs he had hidden inside and perished due to smoke inhalation (meaning he 1 has no visible death x, 2 has a death x on his chest that we haven't seen yet, or 3 his death x shows up sometimes in the red smoke he breathes).

I wrote a fanfiction about a headcanon for Sir Pentious's backstory But the main takeaways from it are I think that he worked with poisons, became paralyzed prior to his death by them, his drug addicted son killed him in a fit of withdrawls with a shattered vial of snake venom, his death X is on his chest where he was stabbed and is hidden by a large fake eye that he wears over it. The other eyes across his body are because he became paranoid after becoming paralyzed. He knows his son went to hell along with him so he's continually searching for him, but doesn't realize that his daughter did as well several years later.

With Niffty, I theorize that her mother died when she was relatively young and she was expected by her male relatives to take up the duties of a housewife and surrender any degree of ambition she may have held about school or a career (even those that fell within the limitations of the time period). Her one hope was that if she was able to get married she'd at least be able to have some degree of freedom from her abusive controlling relatives. Given as many housewives commonly used stimulants that would be considered dangerous and illegal today to increase their productivity and lessen their desires to eat, it's hardly a stretch to think that Niffty would have tried (or been pressured into trying) them as well. It's my belief that she died due to a heart condition that was made much worse by taking the stimulants and her death X is over her heart (and this is why she has speed related abilities). Her large cyclopic eye could be symbolic of her feeling like she constantly needed to be vigilant while still being aware that there were things she wasn't getting to see in life Perhaps her small size is due to her being younger when she died (roughly 18 to 20) and that her death name is taken from the brand of the stimulants.

With Cherri Bomb her cyclopic eye that is functional despite the X may be because she, like Vaggie, chose to allow people to be harmed when she had the power to stop it, but her connection to it was less direct than Vaggie's was (perhaps she created weaponry for an extremist organization, but she didn't realize civilians would be harmed). Within this theory, she may have died sabotaging the organization, perhaps blowing up a bomb within their headquarters o unsuccessfully attempting to dismantle one on the civilian site (with her cause of death being the shrapnel impaling her). She is not ashamed of her death X, and chooses to wear clothing that implies its location.

I headcanon Vox as having been a corrupt journalist in life, overlooked due to a severe stutter in childhood and left with something to prove, he was willing to write false (but convincing) news reports for people about their competitors (ranging from small-scale businesses to political candidates) and come up with convincing doctored photographs. He wanted to quit the lifestyle and settle down with a lady he had convinced to be his fiance (she didn't really love him, but she had a daughter to care for and he genuinely cared for the both of them), so he accepted "one last job" that he believed would leave him with enough to live comfortably in anonymity. The job ended up being a set-up by someone he had previously wronged or their friends/family and was drugged, beaten, and left for dead in an alley. In his final moments he weakly tried to call attention to himself but was unable to get anyone to notice him due to a display window full of new televisions drawing a crowd and drowning out his pleas for their notice.

He has no visible death X due to dying of internal bleeding, but he still bears marks of his death with his eyes always appearing mismatched from three red lines that frequently appear in the lower left corner serve as his marker no matter how often he changes his features. Deeply saddened he was unable to be a father to his fiancee's daughter back in life, he views Velvet as an adoptive daughter. He waited hopefully for many years to see either of them again and his both relived and distraught that they seem to avoided hell.

With Alastor I'm like 99.99% certain this is already fully incorrect, but fuck it this is a headcanon post (also this one is long bc unlike Sir P I didn't get around to writing out the fic before now: Conceived through wealthy white man's abuse of a cook he employed who was of mixed race, meaning her abuser was fully unpunished for his crimes. Though unmarried and in poor health, she kept Alastor, viewing him as proof and hoping he would one day deliver vengeance upon the people who wronged her. He grew up in the care of his ailing mother who, sadly viewed him more as her poised dagger than as her son, and his grandmother who loved him dearly, but lived primarily in her own memories and passed away by the time he was 10 years old. Before she died would tell him lengthy stories about the family he'd never gotten a chance to meet and he would listen, enraptured by the rich tapestries of lineage she described, with his favorite stories being the ones about the Native American man who had been in love with her father's mother, and, she suspected, was well more than just a friend of the family. She didn't know much about the man, but that only served to fuel Alastor's imagination.

Though he hated the man who had given it to him, his lighter skin brought him advantages that were not typical to those in his situation, the most prominent being that he was able gain employment at a rather prominent local radio station in the next town over, and, given time, talent, poor studio lighting, and a false last name, work his way onto the airwaves. He put up with a lot during those long years, forcing himself to stay silent and keep a smiling face through his bosses & colleagues flippant racism, promising himself that it would be worth it one day and that hey'd be "singing a different tune" once he'd worked his way up to the top. He was right, but not in any of the ways he ever expected to be.

Short version, he was found out and fired (despite a degree of public outcry, as his program was quite popular) and he found himself unemployed and, one night, drinking alone. His mother had passed away of a violent seizure a month ago to the day and he was drowning his shames of failure in both his career and of her (she'd had her high expectations of him clear from the moment he was born).

Another man came into the bar, small, tan, scruffy, limping, with some tattoos visible. He hobbled over to the bar stool next to Alastor and with evident glee recognized his voice from the radio and with a bit more effusive praise dolled out between the pours of liquor they became the fastest of friends. When the bar shut its doors, well why didn't they continue their lively chat in Alastor's kitchen? Neither of them had anyone waiting for them at home or much business to attend to in the morning. So that was precisely what they did.

Though he tried his best, Alastor could not seem to pronounce the young man's name. It sounded to him almost like the gecker of a fox (though he blamed this on the copias amounts of bourbon swimming in his brain), and after his third slurred attempt the young man waived his apologies away and said to call him Shilo.

Shilo proved to be a very good listener that evening and, as it happened, in the coming weeks. Most would have balked at the rantings and declarations of vengeance of a total stanger, but not him. He followed each word earnestly, soaking everything in until he was finally ready to make his move.

It was truly such a shame Alastor knew so little about his lineage and about his great grandfather's culture, perhaps he wouldn't have so readily accepted Shilo's claims that he could be granted power, vengeance, and justice through a "dark magic ritual". Maybe if his mother had seen him as someone to love instead of something made to avenge her he would have been harder to talk him into performing 7 so-called "rituals" of murder and cannibalism. Who's to say? End the end the decisions were his own.

He chose people adjacent to his mother's abuser (Shilo was clear on this point, that he mustn't yet strike his target directly, that the ritual was about "absorbing the lights in his life to let you see beyond and leave him blind in the dark". Alastor took down

His uncle (his father's brother) first (a horrid man who, in Alastor's defence, reached for his pistol solely in response to his approaching him)

The house's head butler who had turned out Alastor's mother for "causing trouble",

His own half-brother (he took more pleasure in this than he cares to admit even now, knowing so little and so much separated their respective fates)

His half-brother's fiancee, as she became a convenient next victim

His father's bank broker

His father's chauffeur (for suspecting and confronting him).

And finally, the cook who replaced his mother. That's where things went wrong.

Shilo instructed Alastor to take the body of the victim into the woods once night had fallen, and he complied as he had each time before, but this time as he ate he became overwrought with the guilt of what he'd done, to murder someone fully innocent, whose position was nearly identical to his own mother's all of those years ago.

Shilo was furious when Alastor began to plead to back out of the ritual, insisting that he could well have his vengeance for it all, that once he slit his throat with the so-called ceremonial blade of bone he would awake a spirit of vengence, brimming with all of the power of his ancestors. He tried to press said blade into Alastor's bloody and shaking hands, but he swatted it away as waves of bile doubled him over and he purged most of his night's kill from his stomach.

Alastor watched Shilo's easygoing facade melting away along with his human form, morphing into a snarling canine with a mouth of sharp fangs that dribbled bloody foam. Interwoven between the creature's rage filled huffs and undercurrent of a fox's chitter slipped the words "Oh, Al. You really shouldn't have done that."

He ran for hours through the forest. Shilo, or whatever called itself that anyhow, kept pace at his heels, sometimes overtaking him and ripping away a fresh chunk of flesh or snapping a bone with its massive jaws before falling back to keep the chase going.

Horrifically bloodied and mutilated but somehow still moving he eventually managed to attract the attention of some hunters, who seemingly managed to scare off his pursuer with a few warning shots. Needless to say, Alastor collapsed the moment the beast was no longer on his heels.

One could argue that they meant well, doing what they did. He was very plainly in agony, with his neck and limbs lolling grotesquely, and they really could do virtually nothing to care for him. He wouldn't even let them touch him to try and staunch the bleeding (though for pain or delirium they couldn't tell), doing his best to strike out with a broken appendage or, when one of them tried to at least stabilize his neck with a folded coat, bit down on his would-be-healer's arm and kept locked on until he lost the strength to continue.

He regained a bit of sense for those last few seconds. He saw that horrible beast's wicked eyes and gleaming teeth lurking in the edges of the firelight and he saw one of the hunters kneeling beside him and promising it would be quick and everything would be over in just a moment as he readied his handgun.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fan theory #fan theory #hazbin vaggie #hazbin valentino #hazbin sir pentious #hazbin niffty #hazbin cherri bomb #hazbin vox #hazbin alastor #cw drugs #cw horror #cw abuse #(idk how much I need to tag in the tags since I did a cw at the beginning with a read more but lmk if I need to)

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punctuation-completionist · 7 months

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okay! percontation point/rhetorical question mark investigation has been done! i am putting this under a read-more because it's super long but if this causes accessibility issues please tell me lol (i don't remember if it does but i am trying to make my original posts more accessible so...)

tl;dr for anyone who doesn't read the whole thing, i basically just looked through some really old scans to prove the origins of the percontation point (and that sounds really boring but maybe it's interesting? it would be more interesting if progressive punctuation would email me back lol)

. ? ! , : ; ' " – — - · ... [ ] { } ( ) / < >

22/22

bonus:

⁂ * † ‡ ⁓ ~ & ⸺ ❦ ⸮ ‽

11/20

so basically, this is related to this post* i reblogged a bit ago because something about the graphic on it was bothering me... here's the graphic in question btw

[image id: a picture with nine punctuation marks in three rows of three. the first row has (from left to right) the acclamation point which looks like an exclamation mark with two stems pointing in sort of a v shape from the dot, an exclamation comma which looks like an exclamation mark with a comma instead of a dot, and an interrobang which is a question mark with an exclamation mark laid over it. the second row has the love point which looks like a question mark with two of the top parts put together to form a heart, a friendly period which looks like a period with a curved line underneath it, and an authority point which looks like an exclamation mark with a curved line perched atop it. the third line contains a rhetorical question mark which is a backwards inverted question mark, a doubt point which looks like a question mark with the top part shaped more like a cursive z, and a question comma which is a question mark with the dot replaced with a comma. end id.]

so, i've done a lot of research on irony punctuation throughout my days—whether it be to argue with a reddit comment or just for punctuation day reasons—and i would say i know a lot about irony punctuation (of which rhetorical questions fall under i guess? according to wikipedia at least)

so, that post was bothering me because the rhetorical punctuation mark i know is the percontation point (⸮) invented by henry denham in the 1580s & the mark used on the post was an inverted form of this

now, here was the easy investigation on who made this graphic. i already said so in the tags of the post, it was by progressive punctuation; they even have a specific page on their website with this information. now when i saw the rhetorical question mark they used, my first thought was, "maybe they're talking about a different rhetorical question mark" but then...

[image id: a screenshot from the progressive punctuation webpage on the rhetorical question mark. it says that the inventor is henry denham, it was invented in the 1580s, and it was invented in london. end id.]

see, so here's the real problem. they're citing it from henry denham when his mark doesn't look like that. so then i did the logical thing and tried to find where henry denham even printed this thing in the first place. and that's where the fun(?) part begins.

❦

so, i have a range in the time periods i'm looking for (⁓1580–1589) and i have a name (henry denham). first question: who's henry denham?

the answer isn't that interesting but it's contextually helpful. henry denham was, suprise suprise, a printer from england. allegedly he's iconic but the most i can find about him is that he's a printer and he invented the percontation point. one website (link) claims the use of the point to be from around 1575–1625 which is kinda not 1580s but. i don't know what the deal with that is. (if i figure it out, i'll explain it) and attributes it to either henry denham OR the translator anthonie gilbie (and denham was apparently his printer?? idk man this is a whole web of shit)

so, who's anthonie gilbie? firstly, the only things i could find were for anthony gilby and not some guy with a weird -ie but that's not really relevant because the guy is also a translator from 16th century england so like. i don't think that's likely they were two separate people. so, anthony gilby is a radical puritan who translated the geneva bible into english. the geneva bible is one of the oldest english language bibles, predating the king james bible by around 51 years so i guess that makes anthony gilby pretty important. shakespeare used it, cromwell used it, milton used it, it's a big deal. gilby only translated the old testament, another guy called william whittingham translated the new testament so that does narrow down the thing slightly

but also, i'm not reading the fucking bible again especially not in old english so. i want to narrow it down more.

and that means we're going back to henry denham ! yay! since the source i was using was the only one that provided anything at all on the origins of the percontation point, i went back to it to see what else it had to say. and what it had to say was that there were two examples, one was the psalms of david† (in roman font) and the other was a book called tragicall tales (in blackletter font). so with those being our only two leads, we have to follow them.

⁂

so i search up "psalms of david 1581" to see if i can find a scan. and the first thing i find is a 1581 enchiridion on the psalms of david (1st edition) that's 795$. yikes. luckily i don't think that's the one but that certainly did freak me out since it was from the same year and shit. anyways. the online geneva bible has 150 chapters of psalms so we'll just talk about tragicall tales first

now what the absolute f⸺ is tragicall tales? and to that i say. well. i don't really know.

except, jk i do apparently know now! tragicall tales was a novel written by a man called george tuberville‡ and published in 1587, and while i can't find any direct statements that it was denham that invented it, it is in blackletter font and printed the same year as the article said so... i think it's a safe assumption to make that this was denham's work. the next thing to do would be to find tragicall tales which i wasn't too excited for given the last time i tried to find a book for this it was almost $800 dollars.

but i struck gold. not only did i find a copy on archive.org (link), i also found a typed out version (link) but the punctuation there is badly transcribed in my opinion so. take what you will from it but. idk man i think i found the right stuff. so without further ado:

and while this is probably the oldest crustiest scan ever and also 400 pages long, i did find something! yay!

[image id: five screenshots from the internet archive scan of tragicall tales, each containing a backwards question mark aka a percontation point. end id.]

now, i know looking at this, it's kinda hard to tell what's going on due to the quality of the scan, typeface, and other stuff, but i'll break it down real quick. the percontation points here are after the words wife, fame/same (it's probably a long s but it looks more like fame if that helps), about, will, and wife again. i tried to get a few that have normal question marks in them to prove what i'm talking about (they're in the second, fourth, and fifth screenshots) you see em? cool, because my eyes might fall out of my face with how long i had to look for these. good lird.

but what about the inverted one? now, i did scour this as hard as i could and the closest one i could find was this

[image id: a screenshot from tragicall tales reading "la mia donna bella è buona". end id.]

but at the same time, the typed version has that as an è and not punctuation of any kind and while i don't agree with the typed version 100% i do think that makes more sense. so there. that's all we got out of tragicall tales. back to psalms!

❦

i was very excited to read this.~ (that's a snark mark btw. i was not) i already had to read the bible once recently for ... reasons? (i'm not super religious) and that was the new american bible not a fucking bible in middle english. so. this is somehow worse. and yet. i ended up trying my best to find it

now seemingly it slipped my mind that unless there was a scanned copy of an original it would likely not have the mark i was looking for because i looked for ages. it was a fucking nightmare. psalms sucks especially geneva psalms. but, archive.org came to my rescue yet again. and let me tell you. it still didn't help

firstly, the geneva bible looks like this.

[image id: a screenshot of a scan of the geneva bible. it has two columns of text along with notes off to the side and footnotes. it is written in middle english. end id.]

if you're lucky (?) the geneva bible looks like this

[image id: another screenshot of a different scan of the geneva bible with a similar layout but it is more yellowed and fancier. end id.]

yes, i looked at two different scans of the same book sue me. or don't preferably. but this did give me one clarifying idea of what i was doing wrong. the article i had referenced said that the question mark was in roman font. the main text of the geneva bible seems to be in blackletter. so i had to look in the side columns. and look in the side columns i did. and yet, that didn't seem to help any either (if anyone wants to look the first one is linked here and the second is linked here; i don't think they're in there though in hindsight)

and yet, there was one last place to search. the psalms of david truly opened and explained by theodore beza. a completely different text by anthony gilby (and his name has the -ies in it in the scans i can find of this so that's also a good omen) and it's still david psalms so i hunted it down. and great news

[image id: a picture of the first page of the psalms of david truly opened and explained by theodore beza. it has the translator listed as anthonie gilbie and printers listed as richard yardley and peter short. it is extremely brown and looks very old. end id.]

it's an even older looking book! (though to be fair, the geneva bible was older they probably just reprinted it more often) (i found it here if that's anything)

quick intro to people: theodore beza was a french calvinist who lived in geneva. he's not really important to this story. peter short and richard yardley were printers who worked for the stationers' company (aka the worshippers company of stationers aka the worshipful company of stationers and newspaper makers) and i will get back to that.

so now we're getting... somewhere? i mean, this book does have cool wood cuttings right?

[image id: a picture of a wood cutting of a man kneeling in front of a book, with light and a fancy frame. end id.]

but does it have percontation points?

[image id: a picture from the psalms of david truly opened and explained by theodore beza. it has two percontation points in it. end id.]

oh hell the fuck yes it has them. look at that! two of em right there! that solves that mystery. and i didn't even have to look at the geneva bible. but it's fineee <- didn't want to look at the geneva bible but whatever

but where's henry denham?

like first of all, the article i was using said "1581" for the psalms thing so either that's a different psalms with percontation points in it or something got screwed up because also... the printers are names on here and neither of them are denham, especially considering the book came out in 1590 and denham quit publishing in 1589 (or maybe 1591? it's unclear). they also confusingly say he was succeeded by short and yardley and while i can't find anything about yardley, i do know that denham also worked for the stationers' company so they were at least colleagues in the printing business . so this isn't denham is seems but also... he did make the percontation point in 1587 in the tragicall tales so i don't think it's a question of inventing it, that was probably still denham. there might be another psalms out there with percontation points in it but who knows? i really don't think we need more proof when we say that this -> ⸮ is the percontation point :}

⁂

so where the fuck did this other one come from‽ because if i know one thing it's that progressive punctuation has generally been right... so what's the deal with that?

of course i did the only logical thing and emailed them. i hate emails but i did it anyways. for you (if people don't reblog this just for the sheer effort i will be mildly saddened. here's a secret interpunct for you for reading all this shit. -> ·)

and of course, i didn't get an email back immediately which was disappointing. in fact, as i post this, i still haven't gotten an email from them (i waited like a week but if they do email me back i'll update you)

so anyways, then what did we learn if i never got an email back? how to do dumb research for a day and learn absolutely nothing new? i mean i actually kinda don't know how to conclude this now that i think about it. i guess we learned that henry denham probably invented the percontation point and that maybe we should start using it more often. and that you should check infographics you see online, i guess? maybe don't check them this intensely though because. that was a lot. :{

* don't you dare go harass the op i swear i will kill you if you do

† apparently these aren't by david according to most scholars but whatever

‡ unrelated as far as i am aware to tommy tuberville, a u.s. senator from arkansas. he seems to be kind of an asshole but i'm not from arkansas so i don't really have an opinion

#original posts #punctuation #okay i finally waited the seven days i promised hope this is interesting to anyone but me lol

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1eoness · 5 months

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BROOO u were literally probably the first author whose fic i read when i first searched up leon smuts last year 😭 ur works r so good n idk if u'll see this but it's nice to hear abt ur perspective, i feel like fics abt leon these days r so fucked up and scary, it reminds me of when i first read a fic of yours and it was nothing but normal and hot? i just mean it's like, what fanfiction should be, how smuts should be, just p in v and stuff without all that crazy shit, it sucks to see writers these days waste their talent on writing dead dove fics that are so horrendous that it really affected me mentally

helloo!! (im not dead mueheaheah)

WARNING : Mentions of dead dove content and the likes of its themes!

before i talk : [HIIIIII HEHAHEH thank you for your support!! i'm glad you liked my (very subpar) work! now that i look back on it those themes did enter a somewhat gray line at some point because i lacked a lot of experience in writing. i do not condone ever letting your professor have sex with you nor do i promote any kind of hate-motivated sex, or dubcon! it was merely a bold attempt of expressing hormones (if you know 😭) like a lot of people my age commonly do and so i had (and still have to) reedit the tropes in my work a bit, also because i turned 18 now and i wanna readjust my boundaries! i hope you dont mind. regardless, i love that you like those themes. very good! love you!! /p]

anyway, leaning more towards the topic at hand. i don't doubt that your opinion is much different than a large part of the community under this tag. which is a very, very good thing! i'm pretty sure it was ever since @/gilfhub's posts started to quickly rise in the top pages that lead a lot of users to be influenced and begin to tear down a very, very important boundary. i'm very sorry to hear that being exposed to that affected you mentally, that's the entire reason why i absolutely abhor blogs that post and enable that content. you're not alone on that either <3 and i agree! people should ALWAYS write boundaries in mind. i've lurked around the tag a lot and noticed a lot of "popular" writers who also have an alternative blog for dark content (this isn't just a specific account, there are a lot of these.) warnings don't make things better, they don't fend witnesses away, and it doesn't make you any less insensitive. "dead dove content" itself (which is really just incestual/horribly taboo sexual assault fantasies, no need to sanitize it) should always be suppressed and private (or, well, NOT WRITTEN AT ALL). the moment you put it up on any kind of digital page, you are attracting ANY kind of viewer and none of that shit is cute, i'm sorry. projecting your trauma onto a character is one thing but writing them as someone who skips the morality line is just straight up trying to exercise your power through the wrong means. just as much as you have the power to express yourself, you also have the power to make someone very uncomfortable. people don't think about these situations in the long run, that's why. they seem to really like using the "leon is just a character, i promise he won't care" argument which i also think is total bullshit cause this isn't even about leon, it just entirely reflects what your true values really are. they centralize around the need to express yourself at the expense of other people's comfort (because, for the nth time, it's a public space with an unpredictable demographic yet people seem to really like just doing the "bare minimum" on their part). whilst your perception of a traumatic experience may be valid, it doesn't give you any excuse. this is far from the idea of free individualistic expression, it is just as bad as some 4channer posting about wanting similar situations be inflicted onto them with even real, sentient people. because we all know why these themes allow themselves to be exposed to the audience and that's because it tries to appeal to a very specific group of people (which is very disgusting.) they want to be so condescending, too. like "oh grow up, i'm all under ur skin and for what." it's blatant ignorance, you're not very smart!

and finally as ironic as it is, porn is to blame for enabling a lot of similar themes. it's so obvious, too, a lot of fictions like the ones you mentioned that are dead dove always have to mention pornography titles in it. (honestly doesn't have to be dead dove either). sanitization can be done in MANY ways, and a lot of the times I notice it's through the way of romanticizing or aestheticizing it. I'm talking about those who put up mini pinterest-board headers of like three whatevercore images and then putting lyrics at the bottom of it. it's like an attempt at writing a very bad fucking movie not gonna lie. for example, they end up trying to decorate their post with elements that fall under anything curated aesthetic. and guess what? we've all been there but NOT for writing about uncle!character and their kid reader thats just flat out WEIRD. trust me you are NOT anais nin, you do not have to write lyrical prose and try to beautify something that will always be ugly and demented to its very core. you cannot call dead dove content "artistic vents", either. i also think i can understand that some people are victims who have failed to get help thus they try to cope through other means. but i will never applause someone for making the right choices. i think there's no excuse behind writing dead dove content other than to self mutilate your mental health in the long run for a temporary moment of "safe fun", and not even knowing that it is also in/directly harming the public eye.

it's rotten. it's disgusting. dead dove writers should not be welcomed in any fictional writing space. i've been triggered over and over again and it made me put off writing and reading for a very long time. i've experienced something similar before and i have gone crazy over it, and trust me, the things these people write so "generously" for their viewers are NOTHING but toxic waste.

tumblr is NOT your space, but everyone has a space in tumblr, so be conscious of yours.

i also encourage people to not stay silent on the matters if they want to speak up on it but are afraid of getting backlash. i've seen people delete their accounts over it (which, i guess is good on them since then they won't have to confront this kind of space anymore).

#leon kennedy smut #ivy responding #loen s kennededyyy!!!!

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beepboop260 · 10 months

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I wrote a thing and it's Sett/Yone and I haven't written a thing in like, years so uhhh idk how it is really. Also I don't have a title for it cause I'm bad at naming things

I normally censor characters' names but considering this is a fic I'm not going to do that so this will probably show up in tags so

Note: This story contains: weight gain, stuffing, and also some light burping. Don't read if that's not your thing.

It started with Sett just trying to make sure Yone was eating enough. The man would lock himself away in his office and work for hours at a time and Sett realized he never saw Yone consume anything other than coffee. He didn’t eat much when they went out for food either, so Sett started making little meals and quietly bringing them into Yone’s office and setting them beside him. It pleased him that Yone would emerge some time later bringing an empty plate back to the kitchen. If he managed to be around when this happened Yone would always thank him for the meal before returning to work. Sett received praise from the others for his cooking, but Yone giving him praise felt different. Yone always seemed a bit shy about it. Sett found it cute and found himself wanting to give him more food just to see more of it but he restrained himself.

Then the holidays rolled around and Sett found himself wanting to spoil Yone and give him snacks between meals. He’d leave him small batches of pastries and would be overly pleased when Yone finished the plate. These snacks happened on top of the meals Sett was giving Yone and Sett worried perhaps he was giving him too much, but he rationalized it with that if it was too much then Yone would simply not finish it all.This never happened and Sett started to wonder if perhaps even with meals and snacks that Yone still was a bit undernourished.

Sett started giving Yone bigger meals and more snacks and still Yone never emerged with leftovers and would always abashedly offer some praise for Sett’s cooking before hiding away again in his office.

This went on for a while and Sett thought nothing of it until one day he looked a little more intently at Yone when he came out of his office and something seemed… different. Yone was wearing one of his usual long sleeved shirts but it didn’t seem to fit like it normally did. Yone tugged at his shirt down a bit after washing his dishes and tried to beeline back to his office, but Sett wanted to investigate this observation. “Hey, Yone!” Sett walked over to Yone and put his hand on his shoulder. “Just wanted to offer some thanks that you work so hard to keep everything, and uh, everyone, under control around here.” Sett beamed a smile at Yone and gave him a big hug. Yone seemed a little surprised by the hug at first, but he was used to how cuddly Sett was and how much he liked giving hugs to all the members of the band. Sett had his arms wrapped around Yone’s shoulder area but gently sneaked his hands down to his waist. He squeezed lightly and, as he had guessed, he felt some squish. Yone instantly realized what Sett was doing and began trying to wriggle out of his grasp but Sett only tightened his hug. Yone tried pushing against Sett to get away but it was of no use against a man who works out five times a week. Sett chuckled. “I was kinda wondering if all my cooking was affecting you, now I see that it was.” Sett pressed his fingers into Yone’s softened sides again and felt him start to try and get away. This time Sett let go. Yone’s face was bright red. “It’s… It’s nothing I can’t deal with easily.” Yone tugged his shirt down, the fittedness of his wardrobe working against him. “I’ve just been busy.” Sett smirked in response. “Alright then. I’m still gonna keep cooking for you. I feel like you just won’t eat if I stop.” “That’s fine with me.” Yone said. Sett wanted to say that Yone almost looked like he was relieved that Sett wasn’t going to stop bringing him food.

Sett continued cooking for Yone and Yone kept eating it all. Sett noticed Yone seemed to be wearing more of his looser fitting tops and he also was wearing sweatpants more often these days. As time went on Yone seemed to get new shirts and some new sweatpants. Sett needed to investigate this. This time he went into Yone’s office with some freshly baked cookies and set them down on his desk. Yone immediately grabbed one and started eating it, used to Sett just leaving after dropping off snacks, he didn’t do that this time. “Y’know, I’d say you’ve become pretty reliant on my cooking. I’d also say you enjoy it more than you let on.” Sett smirked as he put his hand on the back of Yone’s swivel chair and pulled it back and turned Yone towards him.

Yone had definitely put on more weight. Even with one of his new shirts on, Sett could see the outward curvature of his stomach, perhaps even some curvature on his chest too. Yone was holding his half eaten cookie as his face started turning pink. He had nowhere to go. He was seated with an almost seven foot tall man looming over him. “I’ve been wanting to see the effects of my cooking on you a bit more personally” Sett smirked as he poked Yone’s stomach. Yone muffled a burp. Maybe he was still a bit full from lunch which wouldn’t be surprising considering he ate less than an hour ago. Sett had started making sure Yone always had some food nearby. “Last thing I’d say about this is that you’re enjoying it.” Sett said playfully. Yone’s face was bright red. “I’ve seen you track your eating before to maintain your figure, yet now you seem to be completely ignoring that.” Sett continued to press Yone. Yone looked away, he didn’t want to admit anything but he had a feeling Sett wasn’t going to leave until he did. “Your cooking is good. Perhaps too good… It feels like a shame to let any of it go to waste.” Yone said, almost mumbling. “Oh yeah?” Sett perked up. “And this doesn’t do anything for you?” Sett poked Yone’s squishy stomach again, making him squirm a little. “It doesn’t hinder my work at all.” Yone picked at his shirt. “And… it’s not bad…” Yone kept looking away from Sett, knowing Sett was smirking at all this. “Mmm. Guess I’ll continue keeping you well fed then.” Sett put his hands on his hips, obviously pleased with himself. “Maybe I’m still not giving you enough, I’ll have to start giving you bigger servings. Just to make sure you’re nice and full. Maybe I should even try figuring out what your max capacity is~” Sett smiled knowingly. Yone used his hand that wasn’t holding his snack to try and hide how red his face was. Sett had cracked the code. Yone was eating everything he gave him because it was good and he also seemed to just be enjoying eating and not minding the consequences of gaining weight. Sett was excited to see where this would go.

Sett did as he said he would and started feeding Yone more. Giving him bigger servings and being extra on top of making sure he always had food. He was happy Yone still seemed dedicated to eating everything Sett gave him even when he obviously seemed full. Yone started to pack on the pounds and the other members of the band noticed but didn’t say anything as they didn’t feel like getting chewed out by him.

Yone emerged from his office with a notably full belly. Wearing an all new outfit as he had outgrown all his old clothes. He had an almost waddle to his step as he moved to put his dishes in the sink. Sett came up from behind Yone and looped his arms around him, and being so close Sett could hear that Yone was breathing heavier than normal. “Please don’t press on my stomach right now. That breakfast you gave me was really filling…” Yone huffed. Sett smiled and couldn’t resist as he lightly pressed his hands against Yone’s sides. There wasn’t much give, Yone seemed to be pretty stuffed at the moment, and Yone muffled a belch but it was still pretty loud and then groaned. He just wanted to sit down and rest because if he was already stuffed after breakfast then he needed as much time as he could get to digest for lunch. Sett seemed to have a big day planned for him. Sett went from pressing his hands into Yone’s sides to gently rubbing his belly, trying to help soothe him. “I’ve got something to help tide you over until lunch.” Sett smiled as he let go of Yone and went to the kitchen to bring back a large milkshake-looking drink. Yone took it and just thought about how there was no way there wasn’t weight gain powder in it and it wasn’t going to help at all with how full he already was. “Thanks.” Yone said before muffling another burp and going back to sitting at his desk.

Yone finished the shake just as Sett brought him lunch. Sett had switched to bringing Yone’s food on a tray because of how much there was. Sett had made him soup and sandwich but it was a massive sandwich that seemed to be some sort of over the top BLT and a large bowl of creamy broccoli cheddar and then a brownie as a dessert. Yone huffed as he already started wondering if he had room in him for any of it. His stomach churned loud enough for Sett to hear. “Hm. How about I skip your post-lunch snack so you’re nice and hungry for dinner?” Sett asked and Yone responded by lazily muffling a burp and nodding. It was going to take him a bit to finish this lunch and he was going to need as much room as he could get for whatever kind of dinner Sett had planned.

Yone somehow managed to get everything down. He leaned back in his chair as far as he could, trying to do anything to ease the pressure in his stomach. He rubbed his stomach and burped occasionally and with no one around he didn’t care to muffle it. He continued to try and soothe his stomach until he fell asleep in his chair.

Yone woke up some time later. Thankfully he didn’t feel nearly as full as he had before. He could smell Sett cooking in the kitchen. Bracing his arms against the armrests of his chairs, Yone stood up from his chair, feeling a bit weighed down by his stomach. As he stood up he noticed his shirt no longer covered all of his stomach, there was a sliver of skin showing at the bottom. He picked at his shirt but it was definitely hugging him more than it was this morning.

Yone padded his way into the kitchen, feeling heavy and he felt that that feeling was only going to get stronger after this. He sat down and saw Sett’s ears perk up as he realized Yone was sitting at the table. “Almost ready~” Sett called as he seemed to be finishing up. He then started moving things to the table. “So! We’ve got: my mom’s spaghetti, that mac n’ cheese Kayn likes so much, and then I put together some miso soup for you since I know you like it.” Sett rambled off as he started making Yone a plate before serving himself. Yone’s serving was as big as Sett’s, except Yone didn’t do all the exercise that prompted that Sett did that prompted eating that much. Yone also suspected he wasn’t getting only one serving.

Sett gave Yone his plate and then sat down and they talked and ate. Yone appreciated the conversation because it was helping distract him from the fact he was already feeling full most of the way through his plate. He managed to get everything on his plate down and then drank his soup. He huffed and patted his stomach and belched while kind of forgetting Sett was there so he didn’t bother to muffle himself. Sett’s ears perked up and he smiled at Yone. Yone just blushed in response. “I always enjoy hearing you enjoy my cooking.” Sett said as he got up and got Yone a second serving. Yone watched as Sett put another heaping serving in front of him. Despite feeling full with quite the belly to show for it, Yone still picked his fork back up and got back to it. He was slower this time around. Taking more breaths and pausing to burp at times. Even though he was only getting more full, Yone still loved every bite. Everything was cooked perfectly and seasoned nicely. He finished the plate and moved to drinking his soup. Placing a hand on his stomach and then drinking it he was almost able to feel it fill up his stomach even more. He finished the bowl and belched loudly. At this point he didn’t care to do anything to diminish it and Sett just beamed a smile at him with some blush on his cheeks.

Yone was breathing heavier after that plate. He shifted in his seat a bit, seeing if he could lean back anymore to give his stomach more room. “How about we get started on dessert? It’s something I know you’ll like.” Sett got up and went to the fridge and came back with a large red velvet cake covered in cream cheese frosting. Yone rubbed his stomach while staring at the cake. He wanted more room in his stomach because it was very much something he liked. It was a cake made for probably six to eight people but Yone knew it was all for him. Sett sliced a generous portion for Yone and the cake had plenty of layers to make way for lots more cream cheese icing between layers. Yone felt his mouth water and took a moment to think about how much of an appetite he had these days, perhaps he was more into this than he thought. Sett gave Yone his plate before reaching over and giving Yone’s stuffed belly a pat, knocking a belch out of Yone. Yone blushed but he did immediately dig in. It was one of his favorite desserts.

Yone finished one slice and was served another, and then another. He slowed down a little more with each slice until there was just one generous slice left. Yone huffed and wheezed. He was amazed he found the room for almost an entire cake on top of a huge dinner and also on top of the large breakfast and lunch he had. Yone was rubbing his stomach with both his hands now, doing anything to help ease the pressure he felt. Sett placed the last slice in front of him. “C’mon, I know you wanna finish it~” Sett said, and he was right, Yone did want to finish it. Yone picked his fork back up and very slowly got to eating the last slice. He wheezed and breathed heavily the entire time with some burping sprinkled in.

He put the last bite in his mouth and forced himself to swallow, feeling incredibly full. He wheezed loudly, even opening his mouth to pant at times. Sett came over and gave him a kiss on the forehead. “You did so well.” Sett praised and Yone just groaned in response. “I… huff… can’t move…” Yone managed to get out. He was pinned under the weight of his own over engorged stomach and how very uncomfortable he was. Sett put his hands on Yone’s stomach and began to rub. Sett’s hands were nice and warm against Yone’s taut skin. Yone let out a massive belch and went back to breathing very heavily as he titled his head back and let Sett rub his stomach. He could feel himself slipping into a food coma now that Sett was helping soothe him. He wondered how much Sett would push this thing they had going. How much bigger was Sett going to make him? How many more times would he end up pinned under the weight of his own gluttonous choices due to Sett? Yone found himself hoping that Sett would continue this indefinitely, pushing him to eat more and more and get bigger and heavier. He drifted off to sleep thinking about how good it felt to be stuffed to his limits, hoping he could continue pushing them.

#my writing #lard of legends #weight gain kink #male weight gain #stuffing kink

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minustwofingers · 1 year

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exoplanet post-finale discussion

this is a post that goes over some things that i briefly touched on in the tags/mentions some plot points i wasn't able to expand upon! SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS after the cut. so dont look unless u want it to be spoiled

ok so! i want to first of all start out by thanking everyone reading/the ellie community this for being so patient and wonderful and just lovely in general! writing long fics can be so draining for me, especially when i start making poor plot choices and start writing parts that are over 10k words (i at least have the decency to be ashamed of it). i hope that you all have enjoyed reading p7/the rest of the series. i did want to offer a little more elaboration on some points/why i made some of the plot choices that i did. so spoilers under the cut!

petra

petra's character might seem super random, and it's because she actually used to play a much bigger role in this story. my original outline included petra actually coming back to jackson as well as a few cutscenes away to her time working at a bourbon plant in kentucky, detailing exactly how the goods were contaminated/how they actually got past quality control. i cut these scenes bc i was like literally no one came to read about this random oc.

how did terranova get infected (in other words: what petra's story would've told)

she used to have a monologue talking about how everyone in the plants—even the commanding officers—were frustrated with the poor conditions and managed to infect weaker members, tie them up, and drop their saliva into the vats of aging bourbon. this slipped past quality control because you'll recall that 1) the prices were skyrocketing in terranova and 2) there was a festival that involved hella drinking. petra was supposed to explain that since the prices of liquor were so high and quality control could be overly cautious, flagged bottles were smuggled off by guards and sold in a black market. so that's why it was so fast/why it got through the borders!

why didnt u write a smut scene between ellie and y/n smh

i honestly planned to—i had a whole scene where y/n has her little top moment, but i just couldnt integrate it into the last final scenes. to me it just felt too much for ellie to be like yes im opening up 2 u emotionally....now lets fuck in the span of like 20 mins when they hadn't been speaking beforehand. and also i think it speaks to how ellie kind of used sex to put distance between them in the first few parts and tried to avoid any sort of emotional intimacy, so this was a big step for her. also if i were y/n id be sleepy as hellllll at that point and would not have the wrist stamina for any sort of activities that didn't involve tucking into bed after the day she's had!

what next?

so of course there's the epilogue, but that doesn't have to be all. i was thinking of writing an alternate ending that adheres more firmly to tlou 2 canon and involves joel's death + ellie's spiral, where y/n actually chooses to leave terranova with dina to try to find her once she hears from her father about a girl with a fern tattoo that's causing a disturbance just a bit south of terranova. i didn't want that to be the actually legit ending, because i do think it's important for ellie's conscience to know that she's not keeping y/n from somewhere safer.

so in conc: epilogue for sure, maybe an alternate ending, and potentially a few "deleted scenes" (including the smut scene i cut)

why did you choose to do that to terranova instead of having ellie find her or y/n leave?

ellie was never going to terranova to get y/n because she'd never try to take her from there unless she had a genuine belief that she'd be better off outside. so i suppose that there could've been a storyline about ellie finding out about terranova possibly getting infected, but idk how she would know that when communication is so private and tommy wasn't even able to get in contact with any terranovan authorities with his connections.

i didn't go with my alternate ending idea where y/n actually chooses to leave, partly because of ellie and mostly because i felt like terranova needed to get blown up anyway. i was hoping that part of the message i sent with this was that overconsumption is never sustainable and that it will always have consequences, and terranova falling apart because of and not in spite of its resources and suppliers seemed like a good way to get the job done!

this may not be something anyone is particularly interested in but if you have any questions about any things i didn't cover in the finale, feel free to ask ! now that the actual plot is mostly complete and i can't really spoil anything, i have a lot more flexibility with answering things!

#ellie williams x reader

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fake-destiel-news · 1 year

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On a website with a PREDOMINANTLY autistic user base, the fact that you're not just making these fake news memes but flat out do NOT care and have said you intend to continue and likely find it funny is bordering bullying/predatory in some ways.

I’m doing literally everything I can think of to make it clear they’re fake. Because while I do find it funny (to come up with stuff and make the memes) I care a lot that no one gets hurt.

Correct me if I’m wrong, but I was under the impression that even autistic people would be smart enough to see one of like a bunch of warn signals. (All of this is not meant to bash autistic people I’m just trying to point out the weird logic here. Because I’m assuming they’re smarter than to believe something that’s clearly fake.) Let me spell it out for you:

First of all, my name should give you A LITTLE BIT OF AN INDICATION. idk if maybe an autistic person wouldnt know the meaning of the word fake.

Also as far as I’m aware all the memes I make now have something going on that makes it different from the normal destiel meme. Like putting Dean on top and cas on the image below or just putting a completely different person there. Which would at least give you (or the autistic people) a moment of “huh. That’s different than usual.”

Also it might not be so bad to look at the tags for like two seconds. Maybe autistic people can’t click the read more I mean that’s very difficult.

Even if you don’t read the tags, if you have a problem with just believing things whenever you read them on a random meme, you should maybe, and that’s just a suggestion, block #unreality. Or if it’s about this blog in particular then just block ME or the tag #fake-destiel-news. That’s why the option is there in the settings you know.

(Autistic people, if you don’t know how to block tags, let a trusted allistic adult help you!)

And if you see any kind of news from a meme, you would propably visit the blog of the OP right? Just to see if they’re not idk, a bot? Or nazi? Or someone who is known for spreading misinformation? Who might have ulterior motives with something like this? Maybe you’d want to follow them but first look at their other posts at least? I mean this one’s not required but if you did it you would immediately see this:

Oh wow now that seems like a blog that would say something that’s not real.

And even if you don’t see any of that, you would at least try to fact check something you read in one(1) meme on the internet? And the easiest way to do that is if the source to it is right there and you just have to click it.

Damn that’s weird the link must be broken or something, I just get sent to a gif of the pen pineapple apple pen guy with the tags “the meme that lead you here is not real and purely made up”. Must be a typical tumblr error!

If you look at the blog where the gif is from you would again see my blog name (with the word fake in it) and again that there are not real memes.

And like, even if you don’t see all of these things and don’t have unreality blocked and don’t visit the source. Then you would, before you’d idk tell other people about it, at least do one(1) google search to see if it’s true. I mean just knowing “the nestle CEO got poisoned cause he drank water in flint” doesn’t tell you what kind of poisoning, will he be ok, how did that happen… if you’re interested enough in any of these questions you propably would search for more info.

And like, if you don’t? What will happen? You believe that the Nestle CEO got poisoned until you see some proof that it hasn’t happened, or you’d just forget after a while when you don’t see more on it. So if it doesn’t matter to you enough to research it, you propably won’t think about it again much because it’s not interesting to you. So like what’s the big deal there.

Even if a meme gets reblogged it would still have my name and the source there, and you could get to my blog easily. Also if the op is tagged unreality it would still get blocked.

Idk if I’m just vastly overestimating the autistic people on this website but idk how you can miss all of these things.

This got long but If you have any suggestions how I could improve (for all the autistic people here) then please give em to me because I’m at a loss.jpg.

#long post #maybe someone who’s autistic can help me here #autistic experiences #autism #asd problems

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adachimoe · 1 year

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Adachi's trial and sentencing

I'm tagging this with cw character death & slapping on a read more juuust in case.

I don't know many legal words (my knowledge is from Ace Attorney), but this is all over the place. When the prosecution "rests", it means that a trial is practically over. But then he brings up "going to court" as if he is not already under trial. Additionally, what is "maximum penalty under the law" supposed to mean? Life without parole? Death penalty?

This provided some clarity:

Adachi says a decision has been made to prosecute him. He's been indicted? Or... something. I was not kidding about not knowing legal words lol. The English putting "the prosecution's case finally rested" is a misuse or misunderstanding of the phrase.

At the start of Episode Adachi, Adachi is located in a police holding cell at a police station near Inaba. At the end of Episode Adachi, Adachi says he got moved to a detention center. I know this might seem confusing because the backgrounds are the same, but he is in a different place in the last scene. Detention centers can house multiple types of dudes, but in his case he was moved there because he's awaiting trial.

The maximum penalty in the English version should be capital punishment, cause that's our "say death penalty without actually saying death penalty" phrase. Perusing through some legal resources shows that killing more than 1 person might get you capital punishment over there, so there's some basis to his train of thought. Ponder mortality, or be glad that high schoolers aren't bothering you anymore?

If not capital punishment, then my extremely unprofessional opinion from ruining my Google search history is that he'd get indefinite imprisonment. They spend their time in prison learning a trade skill to help them with their rehabilitation into society on release, eat a ton of barley rice, and... have personal cells... with TVs... Hmm...

Adachi is either gonna die or become... idk, a wood cabinet craftsman? (Or he's getting bailed out of jail by the Shadow Operatives.)

#persona 4 #persona 4 arena ultimax #tohru adachi #character death #cw character death #localization #p4au #p4u2

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lilrobinbird · 7 months

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Long Ass Tag Game

Cause I wanna get to know you guys better

Thanks for the tag @edas-boytoy <33 Putting this under cut

I accidently wrote looong answer for one question shdhs

How many tumblr accounts have you had before this one?

It's my first one actually haha, I've made like two/three more after this but now they're abandoned forever

Also for this blog I have two sideblogs, I don't really use them now either

How long have you been in fandom?

Like the current one? By the end of July 2023 I posted my first Kyoshi novels fanart and maybe one month earlier I started rebloging and commenting on posts from others, this was after I read the novels and I jumped into their fandom and then in the procces I've also got into tlok and atla (I enjoyed them way earlier but I just didn't participate in their fandoms)

Your favorite trope in fiction?

HMMMmmm Grumpy serious stoick ish x chaotic more fun (and other antonyms that matches first character idk) (whatever heituat has going on))), expressive women with strong personalities, girlfailures<3, severe stern ruthless etcetc women but caring deep down inside (optional), morally gray characters, and I'm just a little obssesed with mother daughter relationships in fiction if that counts as a trope

Your favorite random fact?

That might be well known idk, but sometimes for a video game character they'll hire one person as only just face model, and then differnt person as voice and acting/motion capture

Must feel weird and funny when you basically see yourself in video game doing stuff you didn't do speaking with a different voice

Your favorite game or kind of game?

Now I don't really play video games myself but since I've watched Until Dawn gameplay yeaaaars ago I still like to watch playthroughts of those choice based horror games (the quarry, devil in me, resident evil etc), and later I watch other playthroughts for different choices outcomes scenes etcetccc, The games can be kinda stupid but fun, alsooo playthroughts of adventure games(???), I usually watch them when I eat something

Also CHECK OUT "STRAY"!! I only watched playthrought too but it looks so cool, you basically play as a cat (they did good job with motion capture, feels like real cat moves and it looks so fun to play) and you're in a world when humans no longer exist and there are cool looking robots, you can stratch walls and make robots pet you but I promise it's not just that lolol it has an actual plot and wordbuilding

Aside video games I like chess but I suck big time, but for my defence I mostly played with my friend who sucks even more aHA, we downlanded one chess app for two players and played during some classes

I think I'm just interested in 3d models and graphics hehhh I like 3d modeling

There's also a game called Hades, and this one I actually started playing myself, not the kind of games I'm usually into (roguelike),but friend got me it and! The character designs are very cool

HA nerd long anwser

A place you'd like to visit? (If carbon emissions, logistics and money weren't in question)

Honestly idk, somewhere warm, Greece? Spain would be nice too mmm mm architecture

Or someplace with cool mountains

An animal you're irrationally afraid of?

Ladybugs. No further explenations. But I do appreciate their beauty on photos and from big distance, I'm serious they are very pretty

What's your favorite season?

HMmmm currenlty maybe spring

A smell that brings you nice memories?

I still remember taking a breath of fresh spring air in a specific room last year and getting hit with memories lol, is that even a smell? felt like a smell

(If you're ok talking about food. If not, delete this part)

What's your favorite food from where you were born? And what's your favorite food from some place else?

Pierogi, krokiety and bigos from our stupid potatoland, from other places hmmm, most kinds of pasta maybe, I love pasta, pasta!! which is a little boring but mmmmm mm mmmm pastaaaaa

What's your favorite drink (if you drink alcohol, alcoholic and non-alcoholic)?

I do drink but not too often and I don't really care what, I like flavoured beer, which is alcohol for babies as my friend would say and she might be right but I like it

Do you give your pets random table scraps?

Not too often but sometimes yeah and depends what is it

no pressure tag @korrasamibottles

#tag game

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salemssimblr · 1 year

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get to know me tag

I was tagged by @morrigan-sims. Thank you so much for the tag! ♥️

I'll put mine under the cut too cause I'm particularly chatty today

show your wallpaper and the last song you listened to.

For me this requires a photo! As I have my external display and my mac display and they're different. So, have a workspace reveal!

Last song is Your Love by One True God & Roniit

currently reading?

Nevernight by Jay Kristoff... but barely. I've been moving it from room to room with the intention of curling up with it but then I render or write instead. Oops.

last movie?

Don't laugh (ok you can laugh) but it was the second Austin Powers movie. My husband's never seen them all the way through and they're on Netflix only until June 30th. Don't judge us too hard lmfao

last show?

The Queen's Gambit. I watched it when it was released, but hubby didn't.

craving?

The New Orleanian in me is craving this one cocktail served at my favorite restaurant. The restaurant closed down for covid and reopened literally only a few weeks ago but it looks like that cocktail isn't on their menu anymore. Afaik I think it was vodka and raspberry jam??? Phenomenal. It was called the Little Red Dog. We're going to that restaurant tomorrow and I'm praying if I ask for it they can make it but I don't have my hopes up.

what are you wearing right now?

Sweatpant material shorts I stole from my dad one weekend years ago and a shirt from The Strand bookstore in NYC. (Work pajama outfit lmfao)

how tall are you?

My ID says 5'2" but I think that's bullshit. An even 5'. Would've been shorter but I had my scoliosis corrected at 12 (I'm a terminator, baybeee) & I gained 2 inches from the surgery.

piercings?

2 holes in each lobe, 1 nose ring, and a closed up lip piercing I wish I still had but not enough to get it re-opened. I hope to get several more.

tattoos?

Two so far, a semicolon on the back of my neck (gotten before the semicolon tattoo movement) & a paper crane on my right wrist in memory of my late best friend. I want to get several more and have been actively ignoring the itch because my big wedding ceremony is in October... but after 👀 I think I was a big crow on my back/across one shoulder. And a few other small ones I've been thinking about. I've also always wanted bats behind my ear so maybe that too.

glasses or contacts?

Glasses! I'd love to wear contact but, fun trivia for your Friday, did you know that taking birth control longterm literally changes the shape of your corneas? I didn't either. But I'm pretty sure that happened to me and now I can't wear contacts without extreme discomfort. So, glasses for me.

last thing you ate?

Sliced mango and pomegranate seeds (:

favorite color?

Red, black, dark blues.

current obsession?

My current and forever obsession is Vignettes, the story my bestie and I are writing together. It's wild how this one storyline has become my entire personality, and I'm not at all mad about it.

any pets?

One sweet sweet little fur-son named Loki!

he squint

favorite fictional character?

This is such a hard question for me to answer cause I have wildly fluctuating obsessions and right now I'm most obsessed with my own fictional characters, but. Kaz Brekker will always have a place in my heart. I loved him from his very first appearance in Six of Crows. Same for Nikolai Lantsov in Shadow & Bone. I loved Alina for the longest time too but I think her depiction in the show soured me on her a bit, idk. I have a lot of strong feelings about the Netflix adaptation I could write a whole dissertation on. I've also held the Abhorsen series (& Sabriel) close to my heart since I read it literally in middle school. I re-bought Sabriel a while ago and need to read it again.

last place you traveled?

I don't remember for sure if our most recent trip was to Houston when we got engaged or to North Carolina for my husband's best friend's wedding. Either way, it's been too long since we traveled and I need to go somewhere stat! haha

I'm tagging @buttertrait, @angelgnomeisdeadrip, @druidberries, @simlishpiadina, @kotpicard, @leafbatraccoon, @raiiny-bay, @chaoticsimlish, @omgkayplays & anyone else who wants to do this! Feel free to say I tagged you!

#get to know me tag #replies #nonsims

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puppygrldrool2 · 10 months

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most recent one,

29, 65, 100 :3 - 😼

send me some numbers!!

putting this one first n the rest under a read more just cause umm the rest is horny and i sont wanna like. Subject them to that without like prior consent IDK DJDBDNS

65. What are your top five favourite blogs to masturbate to? Tag them!

HELP um i dotn rly masturbate to blogs specifically but i can tag the ones i scroll a lot that get me rly needy ummmm. this is so embarrassing so sorry if u dont wnana be pinged lmk... >_< HELP.... @puppygirl-addict , @kaionyx , @lucifermourningsun but not in like a weird way ik ur taken but ur posts are very very good love u mootie , @ragdollfizix and @tytotalonpup :333 my moots

29. Describe a typical masturbation session.

ummddjdjn it normally lasts for anywhere from around an hour to like 3 hours..... i normallyy just rub my clit or use one of my rabbit vibes:3333 or ill cockwarm !!! and if i have a towel ill overstim til i squirt bc i make. A huge mess

100. Put your hand into your underwear right now and type a reply to this with your other hand. Say whatever you want, so long as you’re touching yourself as you type. 

Wait i didntrvej realizee this was the lastc questipn omg. Hgvbbbv this is actually . Kind of hot ummmmmmmbnbj didnt expect it >////<

#bug answers #😼#nsft #petpl4y #queer nsft #puppypl4y #petpl@y

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silvfyre-writings · 1 year

Text

When was the last time you were alright? (BSD Fanfic)

Hello~ I return after idk how long with a new fukudad fic. I like to think this one is the "finale" of this little series I have (at least for now) but I hope to bring more Fukudad to the table in the future!!!

This is another quite dark fic, so please pay attention to the tags, because what is tagged is exactly what happens in the fic. So please, be mindful when reading.

Also, Ranpo uses they/them pronouns in this fic, but there are times where I may have accidentally misused pronouns. I think I caught them all, but idk.

For over a year, an entire year, Fukuzawa had been a parent.

It certainly wasn’t the direction he’d expected his life to take, and if he’d had any choice in the matter, he probably wouldn’t have ever gone down that route. Children and family just wasn’t something he felt like he needed or deserved, especially given the amount of blood on his hands. It had simply been easier to forfeit those ideas the moment he’d first killed someone and lock them away so that they never saw the light of day again. And it was safer too, because having people to care about meant that they could become a target, and that just wasn’t fair. So, for fifteen years, since that day he first left home, he had been alone, with nothing but himself and stray cats for company.

Until Ranpo.

He still found it hard to believe that he’d managed to raise Ranpo for an entire year, and that he’d actually managed to do a good job. The kid was still alive and breathing, they both had a place to call home, and if everything went ahead as schedule, Ranpo would have a job that would allow them to show off their talents without fear or repercussions. And better yet, Fukuzawa would be able to watch it happen; a feeling of pride welled within him as he imagined Ranpo unleashing their powers of deduction upon Yokohama, because there’d been a time—a long time—that he’d feared such a day would never come.

Because as Fukuzawa had had to quickly learn, Ranpo was not simply a child of genius calibre; in fact, they had many issues that had been ignored and left to run wild until Fukuzawa had come along to pick up the pieces. Now, Fukuzawa wasn’t blaming Ranpo for all these problems, because it was not the kids fault at all, but rather the fault of all the adults that had failed them—even their parents. He was reluctant to put any blame on Ranpo’s parents, considering that Ranpo still loved and missed them very much, but he also couldn’t ignore how they had sometimes brushed off their child’s concerns and tried to mould them into something they weren’t. Ranpo had told him once when they’d travelled to visit their parents grave, that while they couldn’t agree with some of the things their parents had done, that they also understood the reasoning behind it.

Because society simply wasn’t kind to those that were different, and Ranpo was as different as they came.

Ranpo’s sensory issues were one of the biggest obstacles that Fukuzawa faced, but it thankfully didn’t take too long for him to figure out the best way to handle them. Trips to buy groceries were done alone, or on particularly bad days where he was needed at home, delivered. On days where the slightest noise would set Ranpo off, the headphones he’d bought were brought out and used, with Ranpo often curling up on the couch under a blanket until the world was a little less noisy. Clothing was an easy problem to deal with, and was the only time that Ranpo ever braved the shopping centres with him, so at least the innocent pieces of fabric didn’t cause too much of a problem. Food on the other hand… was painful. There were days where Ranpo could eat without a problem, but then there were days where they couldn’t even stomach their much loved snacks. Not to mention, that there were foods that Fukuzawa loved to eat, but Ranpo couldn’t stomach in the slightest, either because they smelt weird or the texture was all wrong.

Fukuzawa’s solution to that was to simply stick a whiteboard onto the fridge that Ranpo could use to tell him how they felt about food each day, and so far, it had worked splendidly.

Which left him to deal with everything else that came packaged within Ranpo’s tiny form.

Trauma was something that Fukuzawa had seen many times over his thirty-three years of living, in various kinds of people, that also presented itself in wildly different forms, so he liked to think that he was adept in handling it. But apparently all the knowledge, tips, and tricks, he’d picked up from others was only useful in handling his own problems, because whenever Ranpo was reminded of something from their past, there were wildly different reactions depending on what exactly it was that they remembered. Sometimes it was panic that rushed through like a typhoon, leaving behind chaos and destruction that Fukuzawa had to fight to put back together. He disliked the panic response the most, because Ranpo couldn’t handle being touched when they were panicking, and any attempt to do so would result in fists colliding with whatever Ranpo could reach, so all Fukuzawa could do was sit close by and wait for it to pass. Most of the time though, Ranpo would just shut down and retreat from the world whenever an unpleasant memory came along, falling into a pit of silence and stillness that would cause Fukuzawa endless worry until it passed.

The shut downs were relatively easy to handle, since Ranpo’s need for physical contact jumped to the extreme when they occurred. During these episodes, Fukuzawa wasn’t allowed to leave, not unless he wanted to cause Ranpo more distress than they were already in. Most of the time, Fukuzawa would sit on the couch and have Ranpo practically curled in his lap while they watched a movie, and other times, Ranpo would just want to sleep, so Fukuzawa would sit and keep him company while he did so.

But while the shut downs were easy to handle, they were also dangerous, because there was no telling just how long they would last for, and when they came about, Ranpo simply existed, unable to take care of himself properly when they were so lost within their own head, so it was up to Fukuzawa to take care of them instead. Meals became whatever he could get Ranpo to eat, whether it be a piece of fruit or some kind of smoothie, and showers were spent with him in the room providing encouragement and support as Ranpo mechanically went through the motions of washing themselves. Other than that, Ranpo would either sleep, or stare into nothing.

Fukuzawa was always grateful when the shut downs ended.

So yes, Ranpo wasn’t the easiest child to handle, but Fukuzawa wouldn’t have it any other way honestly. Because despite all the bad times the two of them tackled together, there were far more good times to look back on, and it was those memories that brought a smile to Fukuzawa’s face. Like the first time Ranpo had attempted to cook dinner; it hadn’t been the best attempt, but considering it was the first time the two of them had done something together that had had them both smiling by the end of it, it’d easily become one of Fukuzawa’s fondest memories. And then there was the time where, when the power had gone out in a storm, Ranpo had been spooked by the sudden darkness, so Fukuzawa had, in a desperate attempt to stop the panic before it could begin, suggested that they build a blanket fort together.

If only the people that knew him as an assassin could see him now.

It’d helped though, and he and Ranpo had spent the blackout underneath their little fort together with plenty of torches to chase away the dark. And once the power had come back on, Ranpo had spent the day in the fort, watching movies and eating snacks whilst Fukuzawa worked from the couch. That too, was a memory that Fukuzawa looked back on fondly, and he was pretty sure that it was one that Ranpo also looked back on fondly. One of his favourite memories though, was when the flu had run rampant around Yokohama during winter, and while Ranpo hadn’t contracted it, Fukuzawa had, and it’d been the worst time of his life. Sure, he hadn’t died, nor had he wound up in hospital like other people had, but he also hadn’t been sick since he was twenty-one and living on his own, so he’d been hit pretty hard by the illness.

But this time he hadn’t been alone.

Ranpo had been there, and unexpectedly, they’d stepped up to take care of him, making sure that he had plenty of water, lots of soup—premade by their next door neighbour because Ranpo wasn’t trusted by themselves in the kitchen—and more than enough blankets to sink a ship. Fukuzawa appreciated the gestures, especially when it allowed him to curl up and rest in bed and be miserable about his situation. Eventually, Fukuzawa had recovered, and he’d thanked Ranpo for taking care of him, only to have Ranpo brush off his thanks with puffed out cheeks that were tinted pink. Yet, despite the clear dismissal, there was no denying that Ranpo had looked happy at the praise they’d been given.

And those were just some of the good memories.

But with good memories, came bad ones, but there was one memory that Fukuzawa held that was easily the worst memory he had, and what made it even worse was that it involved Ranpo.

“Fukuzawa-san, I’m hungry!” Ranpo whined for what had to be the fifth time in the past hour, clinging to Fukuzawa’s sleeve to get his attention.

Fukuzawa couldn’t help but sigh as he looked over his shoulder with the most patient look he could muster, which he was pretty sure was beginning to fray at the edges because even he had a limit on patience. And Ranpo was very good at hitting that limit and barrelling straight past it until Fukuzawa wound up caving to whatever demand they were making at the time. “I know, Ranpo, and we’ll eat soon, I—”

“But I’m hungry now!” Ranpo tugged on his sleeve hard, and Fukuzawa spun around to pull it free.

“Patience, Ranpo! We cannot eat right this second!” His words were a little snapped out, and regret filled him as Ranpo fell silent. But before he could apologize, Ranpo beamed at him, which honestly just left him feeling more confused since that wasn’t what Ranpo usually did when he lost his patience at the kid. Usually he fell quiet, and became sullen. He never did like snapping at Ranpo, because Ranpo was still a child and still learning how to be respectful, and if he snapped, then all he was teaching Ranpo was how to be even more impatient than they currently were.

“Can we get a snack then?” The kid asked instead, hope brimming in their eyes as they opened them, unleashing the full extent of the ‘puppy eye effect’ as Fukuzawa liked to call it.

Don’t give in. Fukuzawa told himself, and he quickly turned away from Ranpo to avoid those eyes that he found himself saying yes to more often than he would’ve liked. But… Ranpo suggesting a snack instead of continuing to beg for food was Ranpo’s attempt at coming to a compromise, and Fukuzawa was trying to encourage such behaviour…

“Okay, there’s a convenience store up ahead. You can grab something, but be quick otherwise we’ll be late.” Fukuzawa said, and smiled when Ranpo let out a cheer and dashed off ahead to the convenience store in question. He knew that by the time he arrived at the store, that Ranpo would have an armful of snacks that he expected Fukuzawa to buy and carry—because Ranpo carrying their own snacks was a farfetched dream—and he would have to coax Ranpo into putting at least half the snacks back onto the shelves before they went to the register.

And just as he’d expected, he entered the store to find Ranpo with as many snacks as they could carry.

“Just three.” Fukuzawa levelled Ranpo with a look, and continued to stare, even as Ranpo begged him to buy more than three, claiming that they’d die if they had to choose just three. But Fukuzawa refused to cave this time, and continued to stare Ranpo down.

“Ugh, fine.” Ranpo sighed and began to return the snacks until there was just three items in his hands that Fukuzawa quickly paid for before the kid could sneak anything onto the counter—something he’d had to deal with before… several times over.

The two of them thanked the cashier and left the store behind. Ranpo immediately tore open a packet of pocky and munched on three sticks at the same time, chattering away through a mouthful of food about how good pocky was and that Fukuzawa should absolutely buy more of it the next time he went grocery shopping. Because, according to Ranpo, pocky was an essential food necessary to kickstart their ability into working—it was just an excuse to eat more sweets, and they both knew it—and apparently, Fukuzawa was just being mean from not allowing him to eat more.

I’d like to avoid taking you to the dentist... Fukuzawa wound up just nodding; he’d continue to buy the same amount that he always did and just tell Ranpo he bought more.

“Say, Fukuzawa-san, why are you even trying to get me back into school?” Ranpo asked when their destination appeared in the distance.

“Because it would be beneficial for you to be among people your own age.” Fukuzawa explained and quickly continued when Ranpo opened their mouth to argue. “Just because you may be smarter than everyone else in the building, doesn’t mean that you won’t learn anything at all. School teaches you life skills, and social skills, both of which you need.”

For a moment, Ranpo was silent, their brow furrowed. And then they whined and stopped dead in their tracks. “Why can’t you teach me those things? I don’t want to go to a school where a bunch of adults won’t understand me! I’ve already done that and it sucked!”

Ah, that’s right, the Academy. Ranpo had told him a little about that time of their life, mostly about how they’d been thrown out of the Academy and left to fend for themselves, so Fukuzawa understood where Ranpo was coming from and why they were reluctant to return to school. He only hoped that this meeting he’d arranged with the school principal would be enough to convince Ranpo into actually wanting to go.

“This won’t be like the police academy.” Fukuzawa reassured. “The principal was nice when I spoke with her, and—”

“No! I refuse!” Ranpo snapped, looking genuinely upset now as they stepped back.

“Ranpo—”

“No!”

Fukuzawa felt the oncoming sigh, and forced it back down. He looked over Ranpo, taking note of the tension within that small teenage frame that continued to build, along with the growing tears, and he knew that if he didn’t do something fast, they would be heading home instead of going to this meeting. But if this meeting will cause Ranpo more harm than good, then who is it for really? The thought was sudden, but welcome, because it reminded him that he was supposed to be keeping Ranpo’s best interests in mind, and while he knew that school would be beneficial to the kid in order to teach them what Fukuzawa could not, he also knew that Ranpo wasn’t just your typical kid; they were special.

He crouched before Ranpo and reached out to grab Ranpo’s hands with his own. “Is it just the adults that make you not want to go back to school, or is there another reason?”

Ranpo shrugged and ducked their head. “I just don’t want to.”

Fukuzawa knew that there was more than what Ranpo was saying, but it didn’t seem like he was going to get an answer anytime soon, not without causing the kid even more stress. Emotional conversations were best had at home, where there were plenty of blankets and hot chocolates, and not in the middle of a random street. “Okay. I’ll postpone the meeting—”

Hope brimmed in Ranpo’s eyes as they lifted their head.

“—but you need to tell me why the idea of school makes you so upset when we get home, alright?”

Ranpo looked reluctant, but nodded anyway. “Okay…”

“Come on then.” Fukuzawa placed a guiding hand on Ranpo’s shoulder. “If we’re not going to this meeting, that means we now have time to get something for lunch.”

And just like that, Ranpo brightened in an instant, grabbing Fukuzawa’s hand and pulling him away from the school. He listened as Ranpo chattered about all the restaurants and cafes they’d walked past on their way here, telling him which ones sounded interesting and which ones weren’t even worth visiting; it soon became clear that the chattering was just an attempt at distraction, and that Ranpo had already decided where they wanted to eat, because Fukuzawa was definitely hearing more negatives than positives for most of these places that he was hearing about. But still, he nodded and listened, using his free hand in the mean time to send a text to the school principal, apologizing for the last minute message, and asking to reschedule the meeting.

The principal responded almost instantly, telling him it was fine and that she was more than willing to wait until Ranpo was ready for the meeting.

How she knew that Ranpo wasn’t ready, he didn’t know, but it further solidified the idea that Ranpo attending the school—if he could convince Ranpo to at least look at it—wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

“Ranpo.” Fukuzawa said now that they had more than enough free time. Ranpo paused in their rambling and looked up at him. “Why don’t we go eat at that new café that opened up a few streets over?”

“Do they have what I can eat?” Ranpo asked. “Cause I’m hungry, and I don’t want to starve.

“You won’t starve.” Fukuzawa rolled his eyes. “We’ll check the menu when we get there, and if they don’t, there’s the cafe that does have what you can eat at the other end of the street. Is that sufficient enough for you?”

“Yep! Now come on, hurry up, before I wither away into nothingness.”

“You are not going to disappear into thin air, Ranpo.” Fukuzawa sighed, although he was smiling at seeing Ranpo so energetic and happy.

“That’s what you think, Fukuzawa-san.”

As it turned out, the café did indeed have food that Ranpo ate—a lot of it in fact—and it became a mission to get Ranpo to agree to eating one or two things instead of the entire menu. Part of Fukuzawa was inclined to just let Ranpo eat everything in sight, because it wasn’t often that the kid actually had such a good day with food, and he wanted to treasure it while it lasted. But he pushed that side of him away; he was smart enough to know that allowing Ranpo to eat and eat was a recipe for disaster, that Ranpo would no doubt become ill from eating so much, and that wasn’t a battle Fukuzawa was willing to experience today.

Eventually, he managed to get Ranpo to choose an actual meal, and a sweet for afterwards—they both knew that he would eat the sweet first, but so long as he ate everything, Fukuzawa wasn’t going to complain. Too much. For himself, Fukuzawa chose a croissant and ordered a coffee—black—to go with it. And for Ranpo, they ordered a hot chocolate—with extra chocolate—along with some sort of pastry that Fukuzawa didn’t know, but Ranpo seemed ecstatic about, and katsudon, because apparently this café was a little fancier than most that just sold coffee and baked goods. Fukuzawa knew that he’d most likely be finishing the meal, but he would make sure Ranpo ate at least half of it.

And the entire time between arriving at the café, until now, Ranpo had not stopped talking.

Honestly, Fukuzawa was always impressed when Ranpo talked for hours on end, and he did try his best to listen and understand what it was that Ranpo was telling him about. Which wasn’t helped when Ranpo would jump and change topics like nothing else; he wasn’t kidding either, there’d been one day where he and Ranpo had travelled to the kids hometown, and one moment he’d been listening to Ranpo tell him about the town and everyone that lived there, and the next, they were talking about cats and how Fukuzawa should totally let them have a cat. Apparently, Ranpo had spotted a cat through the train window which was what prompted the topic change, but it had still been so sudden that Fukuzawa hadn’t known how to react, and had just stared until Ranpo got upset at thinking they weren’t being listened to.

So yes, Fukuzawa listened, but sometimes he did miss things.

At some point while Ranpo was talking, a waitress brought their food and drinks to them, and without missing a beat, Ranpo shoved food into their mouth and kept talking.

“Ranpo, don’t talk with food in your mouth.” Fukuzawa scolded gently, interrupting Ranpo’s tangent about some comic book series—one that Fukuzawa had picked up from a second hand store when Ranpo’s last shut down episode had resulted in them not leaving the bed, or their room, for three weeks straight—that they’d become obsessed with.

Ranpo pouted, but did as asked, and finished chewing before they spoke again. “I don’t get why people kick up such a fuss about eating and talking at the same time. As long as I’m not spitting food everywhere, why does it matter?”

“It’s just the polite thing to do. And it’s also a health hazard.” Fukuzawa explained as he sipped at his coffee. “If you talk and chew at the same time, you risk choking.”

“Oh.” Ranpo paused. “That’s stupid. Just don’t choke on your food.”

Fukuzawa chuckled. Of course Ranpo would come to such a conclusion. “It’s not as simple as that, but no mind. Just eat your food, and drink your drink.”

“Why?” Ranpo asked as they shoved another piece of meat into their mouth, chewing slowly. “Are we doing something else today?”

“I have a job to do this after—”

“Do I get to come?” Ranpo interrupted, mouth bulging with rice, and looking excited as they leaned over the table and invaded his personal space. Fukuzawa raised a hand and placed two fingers against Ranpo’s forehead, applying just enough pressure for Ranpo to get the hint. The kid looked sheepish then, and sat back in their seat. “Do I get to come?”

Fukuzawa made a show of looking thoughtful, bringing his coffee to his lips, and taking the longest sip he could get away with. He smiled behind the cup as Ranpo shifted in their seat, and tapped their fingers against the table. Three… two… one—

“Come on, Fukuzawa-san! Do I get to come or not?” Ranpo whined, throwing themselves against the table. “Don’t make me use my ability!”

“Yes, you are coming, Ranpo. They asked for you specifically, in fact.”

Ranpo’s eyes flicked open. “Really?”

Fukuzawa nodded. “Really. It’s not until this afternoon that we have to meet with the client, so we don’t have to rush.”

“We aren’t going shopping are we?” Ranpo asked, eyes narrowing; the reaction didn’t surprise Fukuzawa in the slightest, and he was quick to shake his head.

“No. But I did hear that the next book in that series you love so much dropped, but if you don’t want the copy that I had put aside for you, then we can just go home.”

“No, no, I want that book.” Ranpo grinned. Fukuzawa raised an eyebrow, and Ranpo sighed. “Please.”

Fukuzawa leaned back in his chair and placed his arms into his sleeves, letting his eyes slip shut for a few seconds before he opened them again, a small smile on his face. “With manners like that, how can I say no?”

“What is this? ‘Pick on Ranpo day’ or something?”

“It is actually, did you miss the memo?”

“Fukuzawa-san!”

“I need to pee; I’ll be right back!”

Those were the words Ranpo had left with him as they’d dashed from the table in the direction of the bathroom, and he’d watched the kid carefully until the door was safely shut behind them. And once it was, he leaned back in his seat and waited, mentally plotting out the rest of the day. First, they would stop by the bookstore and get the book, and then perhaps he would take Ranpo to a nearby park and let the kid run wild for a bit. Because as smart and intelligent as Ranpo was, they were still a child. And children—in his experience—loved parks. Besides, it would be good for Ranpo to have some time outside in the fresh air.

And after that, it should be time to go meet with—

“Is that you, Ranpo? Oh my, you certainly look better than the last time I saw you. Last time you were just a scrawny boy.” A voice made its way towards Fukuzawa’s ears, a voice that he definitely did not recognize, and he quickly looked for the source. He found it in the form of a man that looked to be a few years older than himself, sitting alone at one of the tables with a smile on his face. Ranpo stood next to the table, looking at the man, but everything from the way they held themselves to the polite smile on their face told Fukuzawa all he needed to know; that this interaction wasn’t welcome in the slightest.

Fukuzawa stood and approached quickly, and Ranpo was quick to look at him, relief in their eyes, and Fukuzawa was quick to give the kid an out. “Are you ready to go?”

Ranpo nodded, and grabbed onto his hand, and together they went up to the counter to pay and then left; the entire time, Ranpo clutched his hand with a death grip, silent as they stared at the ground. Fukuzawa swiped his thumb soothingly across white knuckles but didn’t say anything. He just continued to hold Ranpo’s hand and walk down the street. He didn’t know who that stranger was, but it was clear that Ranpo did, and that was enough for him to be cautious. There weren’t a lot of adults that Ranpo held in positive light—if there were any to begin with in the first place, and while he wanted to ask who that was, he knew better.

Ranpo’s hand disappeared from his own, and Fukuzawa reacted; spinning around to simultaneously grab at Ranpo and shove the man that had dared to grab at Ranpo in the first place. He tugged Ranpo behind him, taking a stance that placed him between Ranpo and the stranger, and he felt Ranpo’s hands clutch at his yukata, and their head press itself into his back.

“Woah, I don’t want trouble.” The man said, holding his hands up.

“Then leave.” Fukuzawa narrowed his eyes, wishing for once that he had his sword, because there was no way that this man would even dare to talk to them if he had his trusty old friend attached to his hip. But he didn’t, so he’d have to go with intimidating this man instead.

“I just want to talk to Ranpo. I helped him out once, so I wanted to see how he’s doing.”

It’s a lie, he’s after something else. Fukuzawa stood tall as Ranpo’s grip tightened even more. He studied the stranger in front of him closely. There was a smile on the man’s face, but there was something in his eyes that Fukuzawa didn’t trust, something… cruel, waiting to be unleashed. But short of incapacitating the man, he couldn’t think of a way to get him and Ranpo away with the man just straight up following them.

“Ranpo is fine. Now if that’s all, we have errands to run.”

“Oh, come on, why are you speaking for him? I know the boy can talk. He has quite the mouth on him after all.”

Before Fukuzawa can say anything, Ranpo poked his head around. “We have errands to run, we’re busy.” The words are quick and short, filled with nothing but apathy.

“Excuse us.” Fukuzawa bowed a little to feign politeness even though he’d much rather launch the man through the nearest wall, and turned on his heel, keeping Ranpo in front of him as he encouraged them to start walking.

They managed not even seven steps before the man called out. “I get it now. This old guy’s your newest play thing, isn’t he?”

Three things happened in that moment.

Ranpo froze, that haunted look that Fukuzawa hadn’t seen in months returning like it had never even left.

Fukuzawa immediately turned around, understanding immediately who this person was to Ranpo, and more than ready to murder him—sword or no sword.

And the man just grinned triumphantly, like he’d won the jackpot at the casino after cheating his way to the top.

“What did you just say?” Fukuzawa spat, worlds filled with a venomous anger he hadn’t felt in a long time, not since his assassin days. Who would’ve thought that all it took to bring that feeling back, was to meet the man that had dared to lay his hands on a child.

“I said, that you’re the boy’s newest play thing.” The man shrugged. “It’s okay if you didn’t know, after all, the boy’s quite smart, so there’s no shame if you did. But if you think he cares about you, he doesn’t; it’s just a ploy to take your money and get in your—”

“You watch your tongue.” Fukuzawa took a step forward, encroaching on the man’s personal space, and felt rather pleased with himself when the man took a step backward. His anger grew with every word that the man spoke, especially when he basically confirmed that he was the one that took advantage of Ranpo before he’d met them. “I know who you are, and you are lucky, that we are in public and that I don’t have my sword, otherwise I would kill you where you stand.”

“It’s hardly my fault when he—”

“Ranpo is not to blame for the actions that you took.” Fukuzawa reached out and snagged the collar of the man’s shirt, pulling him closer until he was right in his face. “At no point, was it okay to take advantage of—”

“Hey! Hey! It was consensual—”

“It doesn’t matter if it was! You are an adult! Ranpo is a child! The only correct answer here is that you should never have agreed in the first place!” Fukuzawa let go of the man’s collar and shoved him away before turning towards Ranpo, who had remained silent the entire time. He paused and looked over his shoulder, glaring. “Dare to approach Ranpo again, and you’ll regret it.”

He didn’t wait for a response; he’d already wasted enough time on this man, more than he deserved, and Fukuzawa was done. He was angry, and upset, and worried, because Ranpo was just standing there like their world had come crashing down before them. Fukuzawa reached out, and gently touched Ranpo’s shoulder, which seemed to spur the kid into moving, and they continued down the path, leaving behind the man.

Ranpo moved fast, faster than they’d ever moved before, and Fukuzawa could see the way that their limbs were starting to shake, the way their breathing was starting to tremble and seesaw, and he knew that panic was well on the way. As they passed an alleyway, Ranpo turned and walked ten steps before they fell to their knees and retched, everything they’d eaten for lunch coming back up. Fukuzawa hovered uneasily, unsure of whether Ranpo wanted to be touched or not right now, but when they gagged and threw up again, Fukuzawa moved, placing a hand on Ranpo’s back and moving it up and down their spine in a soothing manner.

“Just breathe.” Fukuzawa murmured as Ranpo choked and sobbed, tears running down their face to join the mess at their feet. He continued to murmur the words over and over again, hoping to calm Ranpo even just a little. He didn’t dare do more than what he was currently doing, in fear of making Ranpo’s panic worse, but then they did something that Fukuzawa didn’t expect.

They latched onto him.

Ranpo threw their arms around him, and buried their face into the crook of Fukuzawa’s neck, and although the sobs had quietened down, he could still feel the tears as they began to dampen his shirt collar. I have to get them home, now. Fukuzawa dropped down and lifted Ranpo into his arms, holding them like the child that they were, and began to walk. He sped down the streets, expertly dodging passerby’s as he focused on getting both him and Ranpo home. It was close to midday, so the streets were crowded, yet somehow, Fukuzawa managed to get through the worst of it.

Should he have called for a taxi to take them home? Probably. But he didn’t, and he blamed it on the fact that he was worried. This was the first time he’d seen Ranpo react in such a way, and with how tight the kid was clinging to him, he didn’t believe he would’ve been able to convince them to let go long enough for the car ride. It would be fine though, because Fukuzawa was moving fast, and he could already see the street they lived on in the distance, and he picked up his pace just a little so that he was almost jogging.

Ranpo had quietened by the time Fukuzawa was throwing his keys into the door, and at first, he’d thought that Ranpo had passed out from the intensity of their emotions, but the moment they crossed into the apartment, Ranpo shoved themselves away from Fukuzawa, falling to the floor as Fukuzawa lost his grip, and took off down the hall. He called out to Ranpo, but the bathroom door slammed shut a moment later, drowning out his words. Carefully, whilst also making his footsteps audible, he approached the door. He could hear Ranpo breaking down within, along with even more retching, and he felt his heart shatter just a little bit, along with the strong desire to go back and hunt that man down just to eviscerate him.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he focused on trying to think about how to help Ranpo in their current state. The bathroom was Ranpo’s safe place—for some unknown reason—and it was where they usually went when they wanted to be alone. But considering this was the worst case of panic that Fukuzawa had witnessed, he was reluctant to let Ranpo try and deal with it alone. He paced the hall, even raised his hand to knock on the door before forcing himself to abort that course of action. Wait… Fukuzawa paused and thought for a moment before he turned and entered his room, heading towards his closet. It didn’t take long to find that hoodie that Ranpo always stole when they weren’t having a good day, and he pulled it out of the closet before he went and entered Ranpo’s room, finding a pair of sweatpants that would hopefully be comfortable enough. It was a little too warm for the clothing in his arms, but Fukuzawa was more than willing to turn the air-conditioning on if it would help.

“Ranpo? I have a change of clothes for you.” Fukuzawa called out quietly as he knocked on the door. He waited patiently for a response, knowing that it could take a moment for Ranpo to figure out whether or not he wanted to open the door, and sure enough, the door cracked open. A single green eye peeked through the crack, before it withdrew and the door opened wider. An invitation, one that left Fukuzawa blinking because it wasn’t the norm. But he tried not to think too much about it as he placed the clothes on the floor by Ranpo’s feet. And then he looked over Ranpo.

Ranpo’s entire face was puffed and splotched with red, and still, they were crying, with visible tear tracks staining their cheeks. The shaking that Fukuzawa had felt the entire walk had eased off, but Ranpo’s hands were still trembling as they clutched at his knees, knuckles as pale as the rest of them. But the worst of it was the look in Ranpo’s eyes; a haunted look that almost made Ranpo appear dead from how unfocused their eyes were.

It made Fukuzawa want to wrap his arms around Ranpo and never let go.

“Do you need anything?” Fukuzawa asked, kneeling on the floor in front of Ranpo.

Ranpo shook their head.

“Water? Something to nibble on?”

Still, Ranpo shook their head.

“Would you like me to stay?”

Another shake.

“Alright.” Fukuzawa stood, slowly. “I’ll leave the door cracked. If you do need me, just shut it, and I’ll come, alright?”

A nod this time.

“And Ranpo?” He waited until Ranpo lifted their head. “My door will be open.”

Ranpo threw him an appreciative smile and another nod before they turned away and curled into a ball. Fukuzawa had force himself into moving, because every instinct of his was telling him to stay by Ranpo’s side to help them through whatever emotions they was feeling. But he knew it wasn’t as easy as that, and that Ranpo needed their own space at times. So, he left the bathroom, cracking the door as he said he would and went to his own room. He would pass the time with some reading.

It was well into the night when Ranpo finally emerged from the bathroom, and it certainly wasn’t a surprise when he heard the footsteps approach his own room instead. In fact, he’d been expecting it, which was why he’d left his door open and the light on. He looked up from his book to see Ranpo with a clean face and in the clothes he’d given them. He couldn’t see Ranpo’s face underneath the hood, but he had some idea of what kind of expression was on it. Placing the book he’d been reading down next to his futon, Fukuzawa shuffled over, and lifted the blanket. In an instant, Ranpo was there, curling up as close as he could, and Fukuzawa lay on his side so that he could draw Ranpo closer and provide a comforting presence for the kid. Once Ranpo was still, Fukuzawa asked. “How are you feeling?”

Ranpo’s head pressed against his chest, and their shoulders rise in a shrug. “I’m not okay.” They croak.

“I would be surprised if you were. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” Ranpo shook their head vehemently, and Fukuzawa quickly rubbed at their back to soothe them.

“Alright. Get some rest. And remember, you’re safe. He can’t hurt you again.”

He listened as Ranpo sniffled and comforted the kid when he began to cry again, just holding them gently, until they drifted off to sleep with tears leaking from closed eyes.

For the next three days, Ranpo refused to leave Fukuzawa’s futon, no matter how much he tried to coax them into getting up and sitting on the couch. Every time he asked, Ranpo didn’t respond, just stared into the floor with blank eyes. He couldn’t even get Ranpo to eat; fruits were left untouched and snacks were ignored, and no amount of pleading could convince the kid to take just one bite. Water was quickly taking the same path, but Fukuzawa refused to let Ranpo dehydrate himself, so he put on that stern persona of his and nagged until Ranpo had drunk an entire glass of water.

Had Ranpo cried and lashed out when Fukuzawa had dragged them upright? Yes, yes they had; his cheek was still smarting from where Ranpo’s fist had caught him.

But the next time that Fukuzawa asked Ranpo to drink something, they sat up themselves and drank the glass before turning away from him and going back to sleep.

On day nine, Ranpo finally moved from the futon, sitting at the kitchen table, and nibbling on an apple that Fukuzawa had sliced up. Fukuzawa watched, relieved because for the past nine days, Ranpo hadn’t eaten anything—not even the shake that Fukuzawa had tried to get them to drink—and although Ranpo had certainly gone through longer periods without food, they’d been eating regular meals for months now, and the healthy weight that Ranpo had put on after many months of battling with food, was disappearing.

Fukuzawa’s relief didn’t last long though, because not even ten minutes after eating the apple, Ranpo was hunched over the toilet, throwing it back up. He tried not to let his worry overcome him then, because this was something that he could handle. After nine days without food, Ranpo’s stomach would be sensitive, so next time, he’d give Ranpo one or two slices, and just work his way up from there.

It wasn’t time to worry yet.

It was time to worry when he realized that Ranpo hadn’t been sleeping properly.

He didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed until ten days had passed, but somehow Ranpo had pulled the wool over his eyes and kept that knowledge from him. The only reason he’d discovered that Ranpo had been struggling with his sleep, was when, on the tenth night of this… shut down—or whatever it actually was—Ranpo woke up screaming. Literally.

Fukuzawa had managed to convince Ranpo to sleep in his own bed that night, mostly because he needed to wash the futon, and he’d made a makeshift bed for himself on the floor of Ranpo’s room because their own bed was far too small for the both of them. It was just one night, so he’d thought it would be fine.

It wasn’t.

The scream was loud and terrified, and Fukuzawa flew to his feet the instant it happened, ready to attack and defend his child. Only, there was no one in the room, and Ranpo was stuck in the midst of a dream. He’d shaken Ranpo’s shoulder’s until they’d woken, and the fear on their face, tore his heart into pieces. He’d gone to place a hand on Ranpo’s shoulder, to calm and soothe them, but Ranpo had taken one look at him in his half-asleep state and panicked, kicking out as they shoved themselves into the corner of the bed, begging for Fukuzawa to stay away in between the sobs.

“Stay away from me! Don’t touch me!” Ranpo cried, hands flailing as they tried to find something to grab onto and ground themselves with.

Fukuzawa grabbed a plush toy from the floor and offered it to Ranpo. “Okay, okay, I won’t come unless you want me to. But let me get you a glass of water?”

Ranpo snatched the toy and nodded, burying his face into the soft material of the plush.

A glass of water later, and Ranpo was tucked back under their blankets, clearly not sleeping, but at least resting. Meanwhile, Fukuzawa was on the floor, leaning against the side of the bed as he ran his hands through his hair, wondering what he was doing wrong. It’d been ten days of Ranpo suffering and not talking to him, and he wasn’t sure what else he could do to help. It was the most severe shut down he’d witnessed.

But he wasn’t going to give up.

Because Ranpo was worth the effort.

The sixteenth day was when the last of Fukuzawa’s sanity cracked and crumbled.

After sixteen days of not leaving the house, they’d begun to run low on food and other things, and so he’d left the house to go grab what he urgently needed from the convenience store just around the corner. Why he hadn’t just arranged for the items to be delivered like he usually did, he didn’t know—when he asked himself later, he told himself it was because he needed air to clear his head—but he’d left the house after waking Ranpo and explaining that he was just going to the store to grab some things.

Waking Ranpo was his first mistake. Leaving the house was his second.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been gone—he swore it wasn’t even fifteen minutes—but it’d been far too long for Ranpo apparently. Fukuzawa had returned from the convenience store to the distinct smell of blood, a smell that he was well attuned to because it had once been his job to spill the precious liquid. And considering that the only other occupant in the house was Ranpo, Fukuzawa panicked. He threw the bag from the convenience store onto the kitchen counter as he ran past it, following the smell to the bathroom.

And for the first time in his life, Fukuzawa froze.

He didn’t freeze for long, but it was long enough for Ranpo to notice his presence, and immediately, the tears that were already falling, began to fall even faster, and apologies began to spew from their lips. Fukuzawa grabbed one of the towels from the rack and fell to his knees, putting pressure on the wounds on Ranpo’s thighs.

“It’s okay.” Fukuzawa soothed. It’s not fine, this is not fine at all.

“I’m sorry!” Ranpo wailed, bringing their bloodied hands up to their face. Fukuzawa reached out with one hand to stop Ranpo, gently prying the blade from his hand first.

Fukuzawa’s hands shook as he grabbed a second towel. There was so much blood, so, so much blood, and he didn’t know what to do other than put pressure on the wounds and hope that he didn’t need to call an ambulance. Should I take them anyway? He asked himself, because this, this, wasn’t something he was equipped to deal with. And after sixteen days, he was only just realizing this. Should he have done something sooner? Should he have forced Ranpo into talking rather than waiting like he usually did? Questions like those swirled around his mind as Ranpo continued to cry and wail and apologize in front of him.

He continued to sooth Ranpo as the minutes ticked by, and after two had passed, he lifted the bloodied towels to see the damage underneath them, because in his haste to stop the bleeding, he’d neglected to look in the first place. Stupid, you know better. His movements were almost mechanical as he grabbed a cloth and wet it, using it to wipe up the blood that smeared Ranpo’s legs. How could he have missed this? Why hadn’t Ranpo come to him when they’d started feeling this way? He could feel tears forming in his own eyes as he asked. “Why, Ranpo? Why?”

“I don’t know!” Ranpo wailed, reaching out to grab at the sleeves of his shirt, spreading more blood around. “I’m sorry!”

“I know you are; I know.” Fukuzawa soothed as he gently cleaned around the wounds. Most of the cuts were shallow, and had stopped bleeding, but there were several deeper ones that were still bleeding, and it was those ones that Fukuzawa was worried about the most. “Ranpo, you need help—”

“No, no, no, please, I’m sorry!” Ranpo shook their head. “I’m sorry!”

“Ranpo, I can’t help you.” Fukuzawa could feel his own tears falling now. “I don’t know how to help you through this. I want to, I do, but I don’t know how to.”

“Please, please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Ranpo continued to say, and at this point, Fukuzawa didn’t know what it was they were even apologizing for in the first place; it could’ve been for the past sixteen days, or it could’ve been for the bloody mess they’d created, but either way, the apologies hurt, because it wasn’t Ranpo’s fault to begin with.

It was Fukuzawa’s for failing to take care of them properly.

And now he had to fix it.

He picked Ranpo up, apologizing when the motion pulled on their injuries, and sat them on top of the counter so that he had hands free to grab the first-aid kit from under the sink. He continued to speak soothingly to Ranpo, telling them that he’d get them help, and that they’d be okay, and all the while, Ranpo continued to cry and apologize.

Fukuzawa began to hush Ranpo as he bandaged the wounds, telling Ranpo that it wasn’t their fault and that it was okay, and his words seemed to soothe them, because finally, they stopped apologizing. Tears still fell down their cheeks, but they were quiet now, chest hitching occasionally as they tried to stifle their crying. Once the wounds were bandaged, Fukuzawa put away the kit and cupped Ranpo’s cheeks in his hand, swiping his thumbs underneath their eyes to brush away the tears. He pressed a tender kiss to Ranpo’s forehead, and they let out another sob, and a quiet apology, before wrapping their arms around his waist.

Fukuzawa returned the embrace, and rested his head on top of Ranpo’s own. “We’re going to the doctor—” He wanted to take Ranpo to the hospital really, but he didn’t know how that would go; at least Ranpo’s doctor knew them— “and we’re going to get you help, okay?”

Ranpo started to shake their head, and Fukuzawa held them just that little bit tighter.

“I know you don’t want to, but this is the one time where I’m not giving you a choice.”

Fukuzawa considered it a blessing, that when he walked into the doctors clinic, completely forgetting that he needed to actually make an appointment in the first place, that Ranpo’s regular doctor had had a cancellation and agreed to see them. In just four minutes, he’d poured out to her everything that had happened over the past sixteen days, and she had listened carefully, nodding occasionally while Fukuzawa rambled.

She was gentle, as she encouraged Ranpo to sit on the bed, and unwrapped Fukuzawa’s harried bandage work, and she didn’t react when she saw the wounds; all she did was pull on some gloves, grab some supplies, and set about cleaning the wounds. Fukuzawa stood beside Ranpo, holding their hand firmly, whilst the doctor cleaned the smaller wounds and stitched up the larger ones before replacing the bandages and giving Ranpo a lollipop.

The entire time, Ranpo didn’t say a word, didn’t even move. It was like they’d retreated in on themselves entirely, doing as they were told, but not actually aware of the world around them.

“We have a psychologist at the clinic that I’d like Ranpo to talk to before you take them home today.” The doctor said as she typed out something on her computer. She paused for a moment to look up at Fukuzawa. “Based upon what you’ve told me today, and taking in Ranpo’s usual methods of coping, I believe it’ll be beneficial for him, and she can help develop a strategy so that what happened today, doesn’t happen again.”

“What if he doesn’t want to?” Fukuzawa asked, glancing over to where Ranpo still sat on the bed, sucking on the lollipop, and keeping occupied with one of the plushies that lived in the office.

“You’re their guardian, Fukuzawa-san, and Ranpo is still a minor, so really, it’s up to you to make that decision.”

“Okay…” Fukuzawa took a breath and returned his attention to the doctor, nodding once. He’d promised Ranpo that he’d get him the help he needed, so that was what he was going to do. “Arrange the appointment… please.”

-----

“Whatcha thinking about, old man?” Ranpo’s voice drew Fukuzawa from the memory, and he looked up to see them standing in front of him, hands on their hips. “Wait, let me deduce it—oh, you were remembering last year.”

“I was.” Fukuzawa nodded and stood from his seat, forcing Ranpo into taking a few steps back. “I was looking back on how far we’ve both come since that time. When did you get back?”

“Just now. Saeseki-san dropped me off because I was her last appointment. Said to send her regards, blah blah, the usual.” Ranpo said, as they followed him to the kitchen, bouncing ahead to raid the fridge for snacks. “She wanted to know where I got this dress as well, so I told her. I didn’t want to, but I did, but if I see her wear it at my next appointment, I won’t be happy. It’s mine.”

“I doubt that she will, so you don’t need to worry.” Fukuzawa nudged Ranpo out of the way, passing them the plate of watermelon that he’d cut up just before when Ranpo had been at his weekly appointment with the psychologist. He’d figured on a day like today, where humidity made one’s clothes stick to their skin—or in Ranpo’s case since he was just wearing one of his summer dresses, just gain a sheen of sweat across his skin—that Ranpo would appreciate the gesture. And if the way that they immediately began to munch on a slice was anything to go be, it was appreciated. “How did your appointment go?”

Ranpo hopped up onto the kitchen counter and shrugged around a mouthful of watermelon before they swallowed and spoke. “Same as usual. Asked me how I’ve been feeling, asked me if I’ve had any trauma responses, asked me if I’d left the house—which obviously I had because I was there…”

Fukuzawa listened as Ranpo continued to chatter, nodding, and adding his own comments when Ranpo gave him the opportunity to actually speak. As Ranpo continued to talk, Fukuzawa continued to move, grabbing out all the ingredients he needed for dinner that night and setting about preparing them. Ranpo made no effort to get off the counter, although they did move over a few inches, so, that was something.

He was cutting up the chicken when Ranpo suddenly changed the topic. “Saeseki-san wants you to come along to next week’s appointment as well.”

“Why?” Fukuzawa paused in his cutting and glanced over. Usually, Ranpo’s therapist would call him to give him updates on Ranpo’s progress; the only times he’d ever met the women had been at Ranpo’s first appointment just over a year ago, and two months ago, when Ranpo had nearly relapsed—nearly, because Fukuzawa’s gut instinct had kicked in and he’d run off the job early to get back home, only to find Ranpo in the bathroom, unharmed, but nearly not unharmed—so he was a little concerned as to why she would want to see him again.

“She wants to do twice weekly sessions for a bit, and she needs your permission.” Ranpo admitted quietly, after hesitating for several minutes.

Alarm shot through Fukuzawa, and Ranpo was quick to notice, raising their hands to try and calm him before he could start to panic.

“You don’t need to worry! We’re just about to start… working through, that part of my life… you know, the one you were remembering just before.” Ranpo dropped their head to stare at the floor. “She’s worried I might react badly since it’s taken us so long to get there, so she said it’s just a precaution.”

Fukuzawa remained silent for a moment, seemingly frozen in time before he nodded. “Alright then. I’ll clear my schedule.” He paused for a moment before dropping the knife and stepping over to draw Ranpo into a one armed hug.

Ranpo blinked before they returned the gesture. “Why are we hugging?”

“It’s my way of saying that I’m here if you need. Since you got tired of me saying it.”

“Well, yeah, you’ve said it a hundred and twenty-four times in the past year, of course I got tired of it.” Ranpo rolled their eyes and suddenly hopped off the bench. “Do you need help with dinner?”

“And have you burn our house down? No thank you. But there’s a present on the table for you.” Fukuzawa said as he went back to slicing up the chicken.

Ranpo gave him a dubious look. “I don’t like presents.”

“You’ll like this one.”

He listened as Ranpo shuffled over to the table, and had to stop himself from turning to stare as he heard Ranpo open the envelope he’d left there. He could tell that Ranpo was reading it, and he knew the moment that Ranpo finished reading it, because he had exactly three seconds to drop the knife before Ranpo threw themselves at him. Fukuzawa managed to shuffle them over to the sink so that he could wash his hands and dry them before he ran one through Ranpo’s hair. “I told you you’d like it.”

“He’s really gone?” Came the muffled question.

Fukuzawa nodded. “He’ll be going to prison for life. With no chance of getting out. Personally, I would’ve rather seen him killed—”

“You wouldn’t want his blood on your hands.” Ranpo interrupted and then looked up at him with tear filled eyes.

Fukuzawa’s eyes softened and he held Ranpo closer. “You’re right, I wouldn’t.”

“How did you and the police catch him?”

“We staked out the streets that had… children who would be of interest to him, and one of the officers caught him as he was trying to lure a child. I identified him, and he was pretty quick to spill everything once he recognized me, and they arrested him.” Fukuzawa explained, running a hand through Ranpo’s hair again when they shuddered in his arms. And then his voice turned soft, softer than he’d ever spoken to someone before. “You won’t ever have to see him again.”

He heard a sniff, and held Ranpo for a while longer, until they moved to pull away. Despite their red eyes, there was a smile on their face, one of pure joy and relief that brought a smile to Fukuzawa’s own face. To him, it finally felt like the last piece of the puzzle that was Ranpo’s life had fallen into place, and despite how devastating the kid’s past may be, Fukuzawa wouldn’t have them any other way.

Because Ranpo was his child and it was as simple as that.

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd fanfic #heavy angst #angst #tw self harm #edogawa ranpo #fukuzawa yukichi #fukudad #hurt/comfort #comfort #writing #fanfic

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