#Like you don't need more muses!! You barely have time to write!! AND YET.... )

[devctiion]

.

[babyjakes]

clear blue water.

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event | kinkmas 2023

prompt | watersports

pairing | soft!dark!daddies!steve rogers and ari levinson x little!reader

warnings | dark ddlg dynamic (soft!dark!daddies of captive!little!reader.) dub/non-con. shower scene. crying kink. moment of nipple play. thigh riding. clit focus <33 + fingering. forced orgasm. watersports (unexpected wetting.) mocking/humiliation. praise and encouragement. aftercare (cleaning off.)

word count | 1,205

an | they have one of those big fancy walk-in showers with the bench in the back, the ones made of marble?? i didn't know how to describe it in-fic so i'm just dropping that info here lol. i don't usually write shower stuff so i hope this turned out okay :')

edit | this is written in the same au as you all over me, with captive!reader and her soft!dark!daddies.

There was no use in squirming or struggling. Any resistance you showed would only make things harder for yourself. And yet as hard as you tried, you couldn't keep your trembling body still. Perched up on Steve's broad thigh, your shoulder blades pressed back against his bare front side, you felt like a cornered animal as Ari crouched down in front of you on the sleek shower floor. A look of mock concern drew across the brunette's face as he reached out to brush dripping strands of hair out of your face.

Steve's arm was steady around your waist holding you in place, but there was little harshness to his grasp. Neither of the men were particularly rough or violent with you, but there were times when you honestly found yourself wishing they would be. There was just something about the way they treated you, with such love and patience- it felt so wrong, given the circumstances. It was maddening.

"P-please, don't make me..." Your begging seemed pathetic even to you as Ari shook his head regretfully, his large hand trailing down to begin toying with one of your tits. His fingertips teased lightly over your already-stiffened nipple, tweaking and tugging at the poor knot of flesh as he shared a steady look with Steve.

"C'mon doll, you're alright. Be a big girl and let your daddies help you," the man holding you encouraged softly. He brought up a hand of his own to begin occupying your other breast as his counterpart shifted his focus lower.

"Gonna take good care of you, sweetheart," Ari promised as he leaned his face down a little, settling his unwanted gaze on your puffy pussy lips as they sat helplessly atop Steve's muscular thigh. Letting out a thoughtful hum, the crouching man mused, "Now, let's see here..."

Steve shifted you up slightly along the length of his leg, placing a hand on either side of your waist to keep you balanced and upright. "Good, that's better," Ari murmured appreciatively as he brought his own prying hands down to gently spread your pussy lips over the surface you were perched on. A feeble whine rose in your throat as your dripping hole and clit came in contact with Steve's damp skin. "There," Ari smiled approvingly, "right up against Daddy's leg. Are you gonna be a good girl and ride Stevie's thigh, baby? Or are we gonna have to help you?"

Big, warm tears of humiliation sprang from your eyes as you tried to glare at the brown-haired man before you. To your dismay, Ari simply seemed to find your little act of defiance endearing. "Poor little girl, what a pretty pout," he crooned as he leaned in to press a kiss against your forehead.

"That's okay, sweetheart," Steve's voice was low and rumbly from behind you, "little babies need their daddies' help. That's what we're here for." Tightening his grip on your waist, he drew a faltering cry from your trembling lips as he began bouncing his leg beneath you, grinding your hips down with his hands at a steady, punishing rhythm.

Ari's expression was full of sympathy as he reached in again to aid in your torment. With just the tips of his fingers, he spread your labia back further, watching as your poor little bundle of nerves was dragged repeatedly over the slippery surface below. "I know, baby. I know," he frowned gently. "Bet your poor little button burns, doesn't it?"

"Poor thing," Steve played right along with his partner's cruel game of faux pity. "How long d'you think she'll last, Ari? Look at her, she's getting worked up already," he pointed out as your shaking legs kicked helplessly beneath you.

"That's our perfect girl," Ari hummed as he and Steve kept up their steady movements. "Shouldn't take long," he stated knowingly, "poor baby's so sensitive, doesn't take much to make her come."

Heat was rising up through your neck and face as your torture dragged on. As always, you were doing everything you could to fight off the inevitable, but very quickly you were finding it all to just be too much. The way they spoke about you as if you weren't even there, the mortifying detail they were discussing your circumstances in. The way forcing you to orgasm seemed to be their favorite pastime, the way they knew the quickest and most efficient ways to bring you right to the edge of those unwanted climaxes they loved so much...

"Getting so wet, doll. You getting close?" Steve murmured against the back of your neck as your broken whimpers and sobs grew louder and more desperate.

Ari could see that familiar look growing on your face, prompting him to bring the pads of his fingers down to rub quickly and harshly against your throbbing button. "C'mon, baby. Give it to us," he commanded, his voice now stronger with an heir of authority.

"Don't fight it, little one," Steve crooned, his voice vibrating against your ear as the horrible feelings swelled up inside of you. As you were sent reeling towards your high, the man behind you brought a firm arm around your lurching body to steady you. Just as your orgasm began tearing through you, the pressure applied to your lower belly proved too much to bear; in a humiliating moment of complete and total helplessness, a surge of warmth shot out from your spasming cunt as you gushed and came simultaneously.

Feeling the forceful spray hit his thigh, Steve couldn't help but beam at the sight of your forfeited control. Ari caught on to what was happening only fractions of a moment later, immediately sharing in his friend's delight. "There, let it all out, sweetheart," he chuckled softly as the unbearable waves of pleasure and relief continued.

"Poor baby, just couldn't hold it, huh?" Steve joined in as your overwhelming climax finally began to wind down. As soon as you left its grips, your poor body slumped uselessly against your captors' holds. Ari removed his fingers from your twitching button as Steve eased you back to lean against his broad chest, gently planting a kiss to your temple as you sat there helplessly, too weak to do anything but struggle for air through your tears.

"Shhh," Ari brought his hands to rub soothingly over the tops of your thighs. As the humiliation of the situation settled in, your cries only worsened, earning concerned yet understanding looks from both of the men as they sat there with you in the humid air. Steve rubbed your tummy gently as Ari stepped away momentarily, retrieving a rag and the bottle of body soap from the front of the shower before returning. You were too weak and exhausted to fight as the man began washing you off, continuing to offer you soft words of praise and reassurance along with Steve.

"You're okay, sweetheart. Just let your daddies take care of you," the blonde told you softly as the warm, soothing cloth was dragged over your ruined body.

"Our little baby. So good for her daddies," Ari kissed your nose, his loving acts and words only feeling like salt in the gaping wound they had once again torn open in you.

[the-modern-typewriter]

First off I LOVE your writing! It’s amazing and I love reading them for hours!! 🫶🏻 Can we get some more hero x villain duos? Maybe they both get kidnapped and the villain is overprotective to their hero?

"You need to stop provoking them to protect me."

The villain raised a delicate eyebrow, even as they wiped the blood from their mouth. "Is that what I'm doing?"

The hero shot them an agitated look. "Yes."

None of the hallmark uncertainty on that front, then. The hero did tend to be so devastatingly fragile, an unending well of anxiety and conflicts, right up until the disarming moments when they were absolutely not. The villain had to smile, causing their cracked lip to well more blood.

"So cut it out," the hero added. "I'm pretty sure I'm the one who's supposed to be doing dumb heroics."

"Oh, please." The villain slumped as close to the hero's cell as they could. "You couldn't stand being covered in drying blood. You're so fastidious. It's a lot sexier on me."

The hero scowled at them, even as they edged to be as close as they could possibly be too. "Please."

"Aw. If this is all it took to get you to beg, I would have done it ages ago."

"They might really hurt you!"

"Mm. But, you see, if they really hurt you, I'd have to cave and give them everything they want immediately because I lack moral principles. And then where would both we and the world at large be!"

The hero opened their mouth. They closed it.

The villain shot them a chiding glance, tender as a bruise. Please.

The hero swallowed, closing their eyes briefly. "I don't like seeing you hurt."

"But you're strong enough to bear it, love."

"And you're not?" It came out barely above a whisper.

"I'm strong enough to get punched in the face." The villain shrugged, closing their eyes. "Also, I get to say all the fun insults. Really, I have the easy job here."

"Your ribs are broken. I'm pretty sure your ribs are broken."

"They just lost their temper. They don't actually want me dead."

"They don't want me dead either!" The hero grimaced. "At least not yet."

"And we're back to me looking sexier than you covered in blood."

"I'd prefer it wasn't your own."

"Noted."

"That wasn't a-" The hero huffed. Their shoulders sagged. They strained to reach a little closer, but they both knew there wasn't enough given in the chains for them to actually reach each other. Still. "I think I'd kill them. For you. For what they're doing to you."

The hero said it quietly, almost absent-mindedly, like it didn't matter.

The villain glanced over sharply.

There was that certainty again. Absolute. Terrifying. Magnificent.

That wasn't really an 'I think'. That was a 'I will'.

The hero shrugged, twisting their perfectly clean fingers in their lap; a useless effort to busy themselves when all they wanted was to touch, to cup the villain's face in their palms, to clean away the blood and the pain and the marks of someone else's unkind hands.

To an outsider, to a stranger, they would look so lost, so helpless.

"It is a little sexy," the hero said, with the same idle air of musing, after some time of silence. "You're kind of annoying like that."

And the villain - despite everything, because of everything - barked into a delighted laugh.

God help everyone the second they were free.

[confessionsofa-roleplayer]

I'm gonna be really real here. The female OC discourse is tiresome for several reasons. First reason: male ocs are overlooked too. Second reason: Female OCs ignore other Female OCs. Say what you mean, you want male muse attenion. Third reason: sometimes the female muses are not bad, they have great stories and are well thought out, but they are just not that fun to write with. To explain, you are technically sorta kinda in like a competitive market here? Where everyone wants their character to grab attention. It's not that your character needs to be FUCKING LOUD AND ATTENTION HUNGRY, but you need to have something that hooks others. And i'm sincerely sorry, but 'strong girl with traumatic past, barely reacts to anything, btw is so tough' is not what will grab attention. Third and a half reason: btw these female OCs who have verses based off an anime usually take the role of the like. main 'fighting class' if you know what i mean? Whoever the main character is involved with, their faction basically. I learned that it doesn't grab as much attention as making an OC that is in a lesser known role within the series. MY female OC happened to have one such verse, and people were STARVED for interactions with it, despite it being a non-combatant role. This is not to say you should give up your character's fighting status, it's that you need to think outside of the box because these people are likely all used to having the same interractions with people within their character's factions. Try to think of a more unique fighting role. (I'm sorry it's hard to explain these factions without namedropping certain animes, which is against this blogs rules lol) I have written them all, my friends. Female OCs, male OCs, canon females and males. Do you know what was my most popular character? A female OC, that had an extremely gentle personality. But she had certain quirks to her (I wont specify to avoid outing myself) that intrigued people. Likewise, she was very reactive to the things that happened to her. It's so fascinating to me, that we have these tough and badass female OCs, yet their muns are so the opposite with how they handle them. They are passengers to the plot, not leaders. My female OC was extremely docile, but I as the mun took the reigns to either get the plot going or work with others. You don't have to be OOC to achieve it, you can still have this level headed badass, but you as the mun have so much power to make the plot interesting. All of this is not to say the female OC is bad. It's just that in rp you have to think about what others want. It's collaborative writing. You must be engaging and grab attention. Sell your muse to the audience!!! This takes time to know and understand within the rpc. Pay attention to others. I learned it by rping all type of characters and learning what I was missing in interactions.

[cheesus-doodles]

Twins for the Price of One

BFF Kawata Twins

Masterlist

‎

Happy (extremely belated) Birthday to the Kawata Twins! First time I’m writing for them, hopefully their characterisation are fine! Dedicated to a friend >.> you know who you are

“Kawata Nahoya! I can’t believe you!” You huffed, though as much as you would have like to have hands on your hips to give him a proper chastising, you were too busy threading them both through a mob of cotton candy blue hair sniffling up against your shirt. “A fight? On your birthday?!”

Said boy barely looked bothered, the usual shit-eating grin plastered all over his face doing little to hide to the smugness he was feeling over his win; both the Kawata twins knew it wasn’t anger in your tone. It was worry, as always, about them getting hurt in their little adventures. “They were being annoying, so we had to put them down of course.”

“Did you have to drag Souya in as well though?”

Ah, Nahoya see where this was going. So Angry was going to pretend he didn’t take part in the beatdown, even if both their uniforms were equally rumpled and dirtied; ah the things he do for his younger brother. "He needs to learn how to defend himself without crying,” the orange-haired boy insisted, though his twin was far from agreeing with him, refusing to look at his older brother, occupied with soaking in the affection you were giving him. You simply sighed, opting to wave away the issue - the Toman Fourth Division Captain was notoriously stubborn, and they knew they were already running late on the schedule you had planned to celebrate their birthdays.

Throwing your hands in the air, you gently hustled Souya away from you, only to stand and roughly wipe at the dirt smudges on Nahoya’s face with a handkerchief produced from the depths of your pocket, much to his chagrin. “At least tidy up before you come.”

“I’m clean enough!”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his words in favour of turning to lead the way into the ramen shop, with Angry right on your heels looking much like a kicked puppy. “Come on, I’m starving.”

Lunch was a relatively quick affair, with the three of you eager to get on with the promise of a fun-filled day. It definitely helped that the chef was a grumpy man that both the Kawata twins were weary enough to thread lightly around - even delinquents knew better than to angry the hand that feeds them. Shuffling out back into the sunny afternoon with full stomachs and lively moods, you stretched, satisfied. "All right, where to next?"

"Don't you already have everything planned?" Nahoya teased, and this time Souya nodded along. They knew you never liked leaving home without a plan, and it seemed they were right again as you let out a laugh. They got you again.

"I did have plans to go to the arcade," you admitted, pulling out what looked like three IC cards, handing each of them one. "Topped it up as well, go wild."

Souya glanced between his card and the one you still held. "Can I have that one instead?"

"Already used it. Sorry, Souya."

Nahoya slapped his twin on the shoulder, before jerking a thumb and exclaiming. Everything suddenly made sense. "That's why your school bag's so fat!" If you hadn't been a second quicker in twisting yourself away and out of reach, the Toman Division Captain would have his grubby hands all over your bag. "Show, show! Whatcha win?"

"Your birthday presents okay?" Grumbling, you pulled out the two stuffed bears, one dressed in a duckie raincoat and the other a froggy raincoat, the two furry plush almost instantly being snatched up by the orange-haired boy. “Honestly, you two are more like my brothers than my friends sometimes.”

“Older or younger?” Nahoya hmmed and hawed, trying to decide between the two types. He liked them both pretty much equally, the delinquent mused, deciding to instead let his younger twin pick first. “I vote older. I always protect you at school.”

Souya agreed. "Older. We always fight off the bullies."

You smacked him over the head with yet another freshly won plushie produced from the depths of your bag. “Definitely younger because you sir are nothing but trouble.”

Nahoya sent a wink to his younger brother. But you weren't done yet, turning to smack the blue-haired boy as well. “And Souya, you too, don’t think I forgot you. Following this stupidhead into fights, what are you thinking? No one dares bully me to begin with.”

But turning away, it was hard for the two Kawata brothers to miss the smile that quirked your lips. “But happy Birthday to you boys, I suppose.” No doubt you certainly felt that on older sibling role some days more than others, having to look out for your two best friends and make sure they don't get themselves into too much trouble.

Nahoya grabbed one arm, and Souya the other in one smooth movement before you could react, and you blinked, gaping as the two begin frogmarching you down the street. "Enough moping about! Let's go!" Nahoya declared, his froggy-coated bear tucked firmly under his free arm. "I'll win something even bigger for you!"

‎

[xelasrecords]

As Daylight Comes

Han Jumin x MC

Jumin and MC have been married for a while, and their friendship with Jihyun is stronger than ever, so what better way to spend their morning together than to have breakfast with a side of teasing and musing on life?

Challenging myself to write a fluffy domestic scene because I realised I rarely write one. I also wanted to write Jihyun with his good ending personality because I barely see it in fics, so here he is at his healthiest mentally.

Words: 3.8k

Masterlist Read on AO3

The two men's hushed laughter eased her awake, the morning sun a soft gleam behind her closed eyelids. The first voice was clear and deep, one that she heard every day and night spoken like an oath to her soul. The second was gentler, a pleasant lilting voice that she and her husband often heard in their regular calls. She smiled to herself and threw the covers aside; she had already known who she would see before reaching the doorway. They were the sounds that she knew well and loved.

At the dining table, Jumin, her Jumin, was sitting with his back facing her, the sleeves of his navy sweater rolled up. He was leaning forwards, engrossed in telling what she was sure to be a fascinating idea he had recently thought of and possibly should not ever be acted upon. Jihyun was sitting on the other side, his head ducked in an attempt to smother his laughter, mint hair catching the glimmer of sunlight that passed through the floor-length windows as he moved.

Her heart felt whole at the sight of their dearest friend. Finally, they were together. They did not have to painstakingly arrange calls that were always cut too short by their own lives anymore.

Watching them, she didn't think it was possible for them to be any less content than they were now and almost didn't want to intrude. Jumin's sincere laugh, the unrestrained kind only she could pull out, was floating across their spacious home. But she knew them, and knew that they would rather her join them and make their happiness complete. Time did not wear out their love for her, or her love for them. It strengthened their bond, pulling them in tighter than ever.

She could never grow tired of it. It was a feeling she had become accustomed to, yet still marvelled at the wonder, the near impossibility of it.

She padded across the room, the light granite floor cold beneath her feet, and slid her arm around Jumin's shoulders. "Wonderful morning everyone. I wasn't aware we had company." She pressed her lips against his mussed black hair, catching a faint whiff of fresh wild cedar. Jihyun, having seen her approach, visibly brightened and gave her a wide smile, one she graciously returned.

With one hand around her waist, Jumin pulled her onto his lap and kissed her shoulder, sliding up the thin strap of her loose top that had drooped down. "The company had stopped by unannounced."

Jihyun looked sheepish. "I'm sorry we woke you up. I thought we had been quiet enough."

"I'm honestly furious that you didn't wake me up earlier," she said good-naturedly. "Were you just going to leave if I didn't?"

"Jumin told me how you had to stay up all night for work. I didn't want to disturb you."

She waved it away and picked up a turkey sandwich in front of her, eating it with enthusiasm. "Disturb me all you want. I welcome it."

"Are you sure you don't need more rest?" Jumin murmured into her ear, both arms circling her waist. "I could force him to stay until you wake up later. Glue him to the chair with a powerful adhesive or a magic spell. I may not be the pioneer of creativity, but I have brought several creative projects to fruition. I could think of something."

"With determination comes great result?" she suggested.

"Exactly. There is no reason I can't attempt sorcery if nothing else works."

She turned around and winked. "I could help you with the enchantment."

He sighed into the crook of her neck. "This is why I married you, my exceptional wife. You are ever supportive and full of love."

Jihyun smiled despairingly into his slice of sandwich. "Why are you two the way you are?"

She and Jumin shrugged in one coordinated movement.

As she scanned the table for more food, she realised there were a variety of sandwiches and fruits spread across the marble top. Silently, she sent Jihyun her gratitude for bringing an abundance of anything other than pancakes. However much she loved Jumin, she was quite sick of slathering strawberry jam or maple syrup or even more strawberries on the pancakes he made.

The fruit assortment interestingly lacked strawberries too.

"This sandwich is good, Jihyun. Did you make this?" She examined her second helping of a toasted cheese sandwich in her hand. The cheese was still oozing when she bit into it.

He grinned. "Ah, it is?"

She performed a dramatic moan. "Orgasmically so."

She held back her laugh at the mischievous glint in his sea-green eyes. Truthfully, she might have sent a text to Jihyun to save her from a lifetime of pancake breakfast. And he might have responded to her plea with utmost seriousness and come to her rescue the very next day.

It was a possibility that they might have conspired on something that would have mildly offended Jumin, yes.

Some secrets were best kept as secrets.

But Jumin, blissfully oblivious, was studying her with extreme amusement. "I have to remind you that we skipped our morning sex. If you are heavily aroused, you only need to ask." His voice had dropped low, his breathing fanning her neck. "I will give you everything that you desire. It is what I wish for myself as well."

She leaned against his chest and whispered, "Make it an afternoon quickie. Let's do it later."

"So you're giving me the order to wait." His hands ran up the inside of her bare thighs until they reached the lining of her shorts, his clothed knees nudging her legs open. She suppressed a shiver; familiar was his touch to her, a pleasurable rush still spread across her skin whenever he did it. "What do I get in return? A fair bargain has to benefit both parties."

She squirmed against his thighs on purpose, knowing the friction would crack his composure. "You get a lesson in patience," she drawled, voice low and raspy, "and I get to watch you exercise your iron will. I will be satisfied. Didn't you want me to feel good?"

Jumin looked scandalised. "In nowhere would that be constituted as a fair deal, and patience is a virtue I have long been practising. I wish to propose an alternative."

"Shall I take my leave?" Jihyun interrupted. "I don't have to see to know what you two are doing down there."

"Nothing!" Hastily, she put away Jumin's hands and grabbed Jihyun's over the table before he could stand, ignoring Jumin's huffing. "Please stay. We are two very chaste adults."

Jihyun's smile was wry. "That's not what I heard about your sex life."

"You told him?" She whirled on Jumin. "I thought you'd have more respect for my intimate life. This is a breach of my privacy. I'd never got a betrayal of this magnitude, and from my own husband!"

"Interesting," Jumin said. "Would you like to know how he reacted when I recounted our latest session? He was not surprised. Not one bit. In fact, he was too ready to supply a reaction. I have to wonder if he had prepared himself beforehand."

She narrowed her eyes at Jihyun. "You traitor."

"I was just trying to be supportive, but I suppose Jumin has always been too good at reading my intentions." Jihyun shook his head regretfully.

"That's right," Jumin said, a smug tone in his voice. He was always proud when he could prove their decades of friendship through their mutual understanding.

With a scoff, she shifted to the chair beside him and scooped a handful of blueberries and an egg sandwich into his plate before doing the same for Jihyun. When she looked down, she saw that Jihyun had filled hers as well. For a while, the dining room was silent as they dug into their meal, save for the cutleries clinking against plates and fabrics rustling when they helped each other with more food and drinks.

She could live like this every day, she thought. It wouldn't be so bad to have Jihyun here more often. Jumin was one of the kindest people she had ever known, but he had edges that remained sharp and could only soften in the presence of his best friend. Jumin with Jihyun was fully at peace, and Jihyun was no different. He spoke his mind without holding back and did not hesitate to share his art with him. Between them was a sense of safety she never found between anyone else.

Anyone else except her own friendship with him.

Jihyun meant just as much to her, and she to him. They would sacrifice their sleep if one was ringing up the other in dire trouble, despite being on opposite sides of the globe. And sometimes Jumin would leave them to talk into the night while he slept, knowing they had things they were more comfortable sharing alone, though he would chide her for the black rings under her eyes in the morning and fuss over her.

Jumin was never jealous. Rather, he was delighted that his wife got along well with his best friend and had no qualms announcing it whenever he could, not caring if anyone thought it strange. To him, the joy of seeing the two people he loved the most being close surpassed other petty emotions. She could read it on his face. It would have broken his heart if they found each other's company distasteful.

She wondered if it was the same for Jumin, if he could see that she cherished Jihyun and had missed him too. She might have entered their lives later, but time did not dictate closeness. If someone were to be taken out of the equation, the other two would be left flailing, stranded with half of their string cut.

She felt the three of them were always better when they existed in the same space.

"Did you know why he came here?" Jumin cut through her thoughts and gestured at Jihyun. "He claimed to have forgotten his camera. Under normal circumstances, I would have accepted it as a reasonable excuse, except he has done this three times."

"You said it like it's a bad thing. Do you not want me to drop by?" Jihyun asked mildly.

Jumin raised his brows. "You're an artist. You could have come up with a more creative excuse."

She straightened up and looked right into Jihyun's lively eyes. They were the eyes that had freed themselves from the sorrow that plagued his younger, more foolish years. "Ignore this cynical guy. He doesn't know that joy is found in little things. I, for one, commend you for your intricate planning. That is some strategising and determination you have shown. Anyone who doesn't appreciate your effort shouldn't be eating your food." She glared at Jumin.

"Thank you for recognising my effort, but that isn't all." Jihyun paused. "I also missed you. I enjoyed my trip, but the places I visited made me yearn to come back because you weren't there. Of course, I speak including you, Jumin."

"I see I have been demoted to an afterthought," remarked Jumin.

"That is what you get for acting all mighty." She rose to fetch a glass of orange juice from across the table, Jumin holding back the front of her loose white top as she leaned, but Jihyun was faster. He had noticed what she had been eyeing before and placed the glass in front of her. She smiled gratefully at him; she doubted there was anyone more eager to help than Jihyun. It was a quality she and Jumin liked to discuss admiringly among themselves.

Jumin settled back into his seat and picked a grape from the centre platter. "I don't appreciate the poor translation of my intention."

"At least you know you can rhyme," she said and turned to Jihyun. "You have to know how much he pined for you. He stared out the window like a Victorian lady waiting for her husband to be relieved from his duty. I thought he was one second away from being locked in the attic." She shook her head solemnly. "So close to being driven to madness from yearning."

Jumin let out a flat gasp. "Why, I never."

"Nevertheless," she pounced on, "I am not without conscience and virtue to lock anyone away, especially when that person is someone of my own heart, so I had no choice but to persist. Have some pity on me, I beg you!" She clutched at her chest.

Jihyun burst into laughter, which produced a small smile from Jumin. "All right, I'll admit I missed you," Jumin gave in. "I could use seeing you more often."

A brief look of wonder flashed in Jihyun's eyes, searching Jumin's and was quickly reassured when they recognised the familiar fondness in his unwavering gaze. The steel in Jumin's grey eyes dared Jihyun to refute it, but he wouldn't, not this grown version of him.

Some people struggled with getting used to being loved unabashedly. She recalled when Jihyun was a younger boy and how he would rather stake himself than accept the love he was given, but that was long ago. Time and their persistence in loving him had encouraged him to be brave, and Jihyun himself had learned to allow people to love him. The vulnerability of baring your soul to love someone could be unbearable, but believing you were worthy of love could be just as unthinkable.

She was glad he had Jumin to rely on when they were children, and Jumin had him to be his true self with. What had been a constant, stumbling search for faith in each other had grown into intrinsic trust.

"How long can we do this still?" she wondered aloud. "Sometimes I feel like we haven't changed—we have eaten together like this more times than I could count—but we're not who we were anymore, are we?"

"Four hundred and five times," Jumin stated. "Barring other types of gatherings and casual hang-outs. A lot of things have happened since the first one." He lifted her hand against his lips and kissed the back of it reverently. She remembered the time before they fell for each other and how after they had, their connection had become more intimate than she had thought possible.

"You keep track, I should've guessed." Jihyun's voice held infinite softness. "It was an eternity ago. Goodness, we were such wide-eyed kids then."

"Perhaps the time we have left doesn't matter as much as the time we have shared together—the time we are sharing now," Jumin said. "But sometimes as I'm living in the present, I can already see how we will be entombed in history, though it's a memory that I will look back on fondly."

"Please don't say 'entombed'," she said. "Memories don't die just because they have passed. We keep them alive, just like this. We'll continue to talk about nonsense and eat good food and be there for one another. Otherwise, we wouldn't have anything to hold on to when life gets hard."

"Or maybe we won't do this forever. We can't tell what the future holds," Jihyun mused. "Change is the natural order of the universe, but in this life full of changes, I can always count on you two to be here for me, to make me happy." He smiled at them, the corner of his eyes crinkling. Jumin nodded contentedly, and she laid her head on his shoulder, sharing his peace.

"I certainly would be appalled if I stayed the same all these years." She shuddered. "I like that we change together, that our new shapes still fit each other somehow. I've grown out of enough friendships to know that this isn't always the case."

"I'm afraid I cannot comment much on friendships." Jumin frowned. "My friendship with Jihyun is the only true one that I have, but it wouldn't be complete if you never came into my life—our lives. I will always be thankful for that. You brought us all closer."

With an arm propped on the table, she watched Jumin's thoughtful expression and eased the crease between his forehead. He had spoken aloud of what she was thinking about earlier, the completeness of the bond between the three of them. It was funny, how sometimes it was as if his mind and hers were intertwined. The time they spent together has left an indisputable mark, seemingly without her notice.

Time was often like that. One day you clambered through life with cuts on your knees and found yourself standing on steadier ground, wiser but irreparably changed in the next. It did not beat on a steady rhythm; it sprinted and languished at the exact moments you wished it not to.

"Everything he said was true," Jihyun reached over the table to squeeze her hand. It was soft in her touch. "You're a blessing on earth. I was right to come here right away."

"Meeting us is always the right decision," said Jumin adamantly.

"Except if he's asking you to translate an ancient necromancy spellbook that's ninety-nine per cent fake, then maybe it isn't a good idea to be here," she added.

"Ninety-nine per cent?" Jumin sounded offended. "It's disrespectful to equate a book that holds mystical wonders unimaginable to mankind to a lousy disinfectant."

Jihyun ignored him and looked at her warily.

"He made me light up pungent-smelling candles around the house with him. I still don't want to know what kind of candles they were." She grimaced at the memory. "We had to move out for a few weeks until the smell disappeared."

Jihyun wrinkled his nose at Jumin. "What dead creature were you trying to raise?"

"A mouse that my bodyguard accused Elizabeth the Third has killed. Petty murders are below a lady as dignified as she," he declared with conviction. "I should know."

A look of surprise passed over Jihyun's face. "And you care enough about the mouse to call it back from death?" he asked slowly.

"I needed to put it under interrogation to extract the exact cause of its death," Jumin said. "It was imperative that I clear Elizabeth the Third's name."

"Naturally," she cut in cheerfully. "When one dies, one can simply be revived and questioned about one's lethal injury. No worries whatsoever that recalling the event might be traumatic to them."

"Did it, um"—Jihyun struggled to find the right word—"come alive?"

Jumin sighed in defeat. "I would have to try again another time."

"You would not." Her tone was severe. "You will either lose the truth of Elizabeth the Third's innocence or me. Your choice."

Jumin looked tortured, but she did not budge. Jihyun's eyes danced between them with amusement.

Eventually, Jumin splayed his hands out in resignation. "I shall comply with your wishes."

She patted his arm. "It's for the best. You don't want to accidentally exorcise the whole world with your corpse-raising activities. I can only support your hobbies up to a point, love."

At that, Jihyun chortled into his drink and Jumin shot him a betrayed look, though he still offered his handkerchief to him. "Not that I don't believe in you," Jihyun said when he calmed down, "but your experiments tend to be disastrous. Maybe you should consider those around you. We're the ones who have to deal with your mess."

Jumin crossed his arms. "You two have no loyalty towards me, especially you, dear lovely wife." He tilted his head at her. "You're supposed to be the love of my life. My sworn life partner for eternity."

She rolled her eyes. "Please, I did agree to glue Jihyun earlier. Was that not enough?"

"This is about me now?" asked Jihyun.

She produced a coy smile. "You're always in our hearts."

Jumin, seeing the opportunity to shift the blame, quickly said, "That's true."

"You two have sadistic hearts," Jihyun pointed out.

"Don't even try to deny that sadism isn't what you're into," she said and grinned when his cheeks heated up. "I know about your fantasies too."

Unfortunately, Jumin took this moment to inspect the table and made an astute observation, cutting off Jihyun's stammering. "It has occurred to me that we have too many sandwiches and no pancake in sight."

Her and Jihyun's attention snapped on each other, eyes widening in horror.

"Did you know how easy it is to make a strawberry pancake, Jihyun? We could eat it every day," Jumin went on.

"We could, yes," Jihyun said tactfully, "but it doesn't mean we should. Anything too much could make you sick, my friend."

"And I'm full," she chimed in. "Maybe next time?"

"She did eat a lot earlier," Jihyun said.

"Did you?" Jumin stared at her with suspicion.

She leaned back and rubbed her stomach. "A whole lot. If you force me to eat, I'd have no choice but to vomit everything onto your lap. That would disrespect Jihyun's hard work on packing all this food, and I'd be sick and have to eat again—which would be a major annoyance with a burned throat—and you'd have to change into stripeless pants."

Jumin looked puzzled. "But I have other striped pants."

"Not if I used all of them to clean up the vomit."

He sighed but relented. "If you say so."

When Jumin averted his gaze, she breathed out a silent air of relief and felt Jihyun nudging her foot beneath the table, a playful twinkle in his eyes. His lips were pressed into a flat line, fighting the smile threatening to break his sympathetic ruse. She prodded his foot back and gave him a light shrug.

Not long after, Jihyun would have to leave for yet another thing and she and Jumin would have to count the days until the next time they met. But it was not their concern yet. Right now, the murmurs of their talk and the music of their laughs were enough for her. There was nothing to complain about when they made her happy.

Distance and frequency of meetings did not matter. She could have one minute with them together and still be satisfied, however temporary the satisfaction might be. A mere minute would make her yearn for more until they piled up to make an infinite, but she was not demanding. Whatever little time they could carve out of their routine was enough.

This was good. They were happy and radiant and comfortable that she allowed herself to believe that it could last forever.

And it would. Their love would never wane.

-

Footnotes:

One thing I love about their friendship is how honest they are with their appreciation. They're not ashamed of showing that they care, and their elegant linguistic style (though V's is more casual than Jumin's) makes it easy to write their vulnerable feelings just as they are. They don't toughen up their words or purposely censor them when they get emotional. They're fluent in articulating their feelings, and I think this would be even more natural when they've all been close for a long time.

The domestic scene challenge was made easier since I was vibrating with giddiness to express more love for Jumin and V. I'm the happiest when I write about love and them. Grinning maniacally every time I type their story out.

Before anyone comes at me, I don't think Jumin would be jealous. He could be possessive when he's gripped by his darker thoughts, but in this phase of his life, he's stable. He's secure in his marriage, he has a grounded relationship that's nurtured over the years with MC, and he shares a safe emotional space with V. Everyone is at their best here. The three of them have complete trust and respect for each other.

When I first started writing here, I used to think I have to make the MC's personality neutral enough so that most readers could relate, but now it's free real estate. I do whatever I want.

I was nostalgic about my college days' friendship, hence the more sombre tone in the middle. It feels natural in my friendships to joke around and make sexual quips in one moment and reflect on life in the next. I wanted to recreate that safety and sense of belonging I used to feel.

This was supposed to be finished earlier but I suddenly went through a friendship breakup during the editing stage, so I couldn't find it in me to write about the joys of friendship when I just severed one of mine. She was my close friend for almost a decade. I still think about her from time to time.

Buy me a glass of something that's definitely not coffee because I can't stand it but it is the website's name if my story touches you in some way? No worries if you don't. I'm still grateful you've read all the way through here.

[madwomansapologist]

hi can you do headcanons about dating klaus mikaelson (tvd)

Dating Klaus Mikaelson would include

Masterlist | Rules | Taglist | Library | More Klaus Mikaelson | AO3

synopsis: beside all the blood and murders, Klaus is a lover. Well, only you know that, but it still true.

warnings: vampire stuff

ps: thanks for your request my love, time to write for our favorite hybrid!

• This man is a romantic gentleman. Klaus would literally have the most creative ideas and he is not affraid of transforming them in reality. He does not get embarrassed: if that is a chance he os going to make your heartbeat race then he is doing it

• Call him protective is a euphemism. Klaus isn't a pacific person in his normal mood, imagine when you are in danger. This man would burn for you but, more than anything, he would set the world on fire if that means you are save

• No, I am wrong, he would set the world on fire if that means you will smile. You know that thing about villains loving better than heroes? It is true, darling, trust me

• Klaus is so freaking jealous. Anyone that seems interesting on you is someone he won't take his eyes off. The type of guy that would appear behind you during a conversation with someone that smiles more than the necessary and grab your waist, pushing you close to him

• Klaus know so many things that talking to him is almost a class about art. Yet, he don't talk like he knows everything. Klaus can be a stubborn little bitch, but he would never act like you are dumb

• He does send you letters. Not for a special reason beside spendind time on making something beatiful for you

• He loves to write about you, but what he is obssessed with is to draw you. Anytime, anywhere: he just wants to save your image. You are his muse, the personification of Afrodite, his own perfect Venus

• Klaus is touch starved and, if you are comfortable, there is a big chance he would be touching you all the time. You're both walking? His hands are on your back pocket. You sitting beside him? His arms are around your shoulders. That is a song playing? Klaus gonna find a way to make you dance with him

• Elijah is a really great partner to call Klaus stupid when he does something violent that wasn't really necessary, you both even have do the Rolling Eyes While Regreting Being Alive™ thing. Rebecca is a awesome friend and, lets be honest, what our sweet vampire need is a great friend. Everyone deserves having someone who gonna agree with you when someone wronged you or that gonna gossip about anything that breaths

• Your voice is like poetry to him. Klaus loves to lay on your lap and just give you freedom to talk about anything that comes to your mind. And he listen, like really listen to what you said, and he remembers everything

NSFW 🦇

• Althought your voice is perfect for him, he likes it better when you are moaning his name. Klaus love when you can't barely speaks. When your words are softer, the lips almost don't move, and whatever you said don't make sense

• Klaus is a provoking. The way his eyes meets yours, how have so much profanity hidden behind smart words choice, how he would won't mind literally stop what his doing to you if that means you only would want him more. No, Klaus isn't provoking, he is challeger

• Klaus is romantic, but that doesnt imply to sex. The passion is always there, but thing tend to get pretty rough. Even when it starts romantic. Being with Klaus is so easy, so comfortable, that you both get kinky and don't even notice

• And don't even start thinking he is not kinky. Do you think someone can live hundreds of years and not being creative about what to do during sex?

• And talking about age, he has a lot of experience. Klaus would love to try new things with you, it will always be new because now he is with you. And he loves to teach new ways of feeling better

• Blood can be a thing if you like it. When you are a human he would be affraid, not to murdering you but to making you fear him. If you want it, he would find a way to treat you even more like a god. And lets be honest, everyone thinks that but no one said: do you really think that period sex is not a thing for him??? And when you are a vampire, damn, that are so many things he would love to make you feel

• He can go down on you for hours. He have a lot of stamina, you would need to beg him to stop and he would just feel proud if your make up is ruined and your legs are shacking

• He loves when you bite him. Leave marks honey, he is yours, sign his skin with your teeths, nails, mouth. Have your fun, make him surprise when look at the mirror

• Klaus likes bath sex. When it start as something innocent and natural and ends with water all over the floor

• Klaus doesnt mind if there is anyone watching, but he loves the ideia of someone having no other choice than hearing you both. Like when he knows you both are being too loud, but the other person is to embarassed to do something beside wanting to die

• Want him hard? Play with his hair. Want him to cum? Pull his hair. Klaus is sensitive and you know how to use it for the greater good

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[heliads]

I was just thinking of sort of a father-child dynamic? Like, he finds the gender-neutral Reader because they're a suspect in one of his murder cases (not the Thrombey case from the movie), and realizes that they're super smart and would make an amazing detective, but he finds out they don't have a home and decides to make them his ward-slash-apprentice? I dunno if you'd actually want to write that, but it's an idea I've had for a while and God knows your writing is ten times better than mine. 😅

i have an obsession with knives out

masterlist / part two

Benoit Blanc does not know how this is going to go down. He has his inklings, of course, a few thoughts and ideas scattered here and there like forgotten Easter Eggs the day after a hunt, but nothing certain yet. His brightly colored plastic pieces of leads have yet to guide him to anything truly worthwhile. 

That’s his favorite part of the entire process, if Benoit were feeling glib enough to put a name to it. Usually, he at least pretends to be somewhat unbiased. Too many investigators these days are in it for the money or fame. Not him, he claims. Of course, it’s not entirely certain that anyone will believe him, but the fact remains. 

No, if Benoit were in this line of work for anything, he’d have to say that it would be for the story. You can’t make this sort of stuff up anywhere, not in the most fantastic thrillers. No trade paperback could even dare to dream up the stories Benoit has seen. You could shell out a million bucks on dime a dozen fictions and still not even scratch the surface of all that Benoit has discovered by way of odd jobs and borrowed reports. 

That isn’t to say that Benoit is against the novel, of course. They certainly have their role in his life, sure as any other person or thing that happens to stumble into his path. Sometimes he thinks that he might have a little fun writing up a book or two based on his own experiences. Most of it would be classified, of course, but certainly he could ad lib enough to hook in a reader or two. 

This isn’t the point, of course. Perhaps that’s as good a sign as any that Benoit’s attempts at literary handicrafts would end in less than mediocre sales. His habits of running headlong from one tangent to the next, often barely connected in topic at all, could scare away even the most fervent readers. He’s had deputies tell him that much more than a few times, and even those less comfortable with chastising their coworkers settle for some raised eyebrows when the moment suits them best. 

Ah, so well then. No novels for him. Not even a particularly lengthy memo if he’s in the mood for sparing the nearest police department from his musings. In the end, though, Benoit doesn’t necessarily need an audience, although he can’t deny that a good reception certainly lends itself to a good time whenever he can get a hold of one. 

For example, right now he’s got a case that’s shaping up nicely in terms of a final deliverance of a verdict. Benoit isn’t judge, jury, and executioner, of course, no matter what dots he connects the end decision will be made by someone other than him, but that doesn’t seem to stop everyone tied to a given case from flocking around him like his word is gold. 

One of these multitudes in particular has been catching his eye for a while. Among the usual number of jilted in-laws and disgruntled passersby who’ve all been corralled into the scene of his latest crime, Benoit cannot help but notice someone who’s been standing on the outskirts of it all. This case is as far from insipid as any other, people cannot help but get themselves involved. Still, one witness seems immune to the waves of melodrama and perilous lies that seem to catch at the sleeves of everyone else here.

He has a problem with being interested in the wrong details. Technically, Benoit should be more invested in the fact that he is here to investigate the death of a wealthy family matriarch, not some kid on the fringe of the whole ordeal, yet the roles are flipped regardless in his head. 

Besides, it’s not like anyone truly needs to worry. Benoit is already twenty percent sure that the killer was the gardener, there were muddy footprints out in the mansion gazebo that look eerily similar to work boots. The mother of a prestigious family had ended up dead one night, drowned in an over chlorinated pool that removed all traces of DNA for the police to investigate. Although the gardener claimed to have been off work that day and thus unable to commit the crime, the prints exist nonetheless. 

Also, it makes no sense for the newly hired gardener to be so committed to his craft that they would be given the keys to the house within a day of submitting an application, yet have not a single callus on their hands. Benoit suspects the gardener to be a plant, likely at the wishes of a disgruntled uncle. Motives are still unclear as of yet, but he has a feeling that explanations will come up if he just pulls at the right string.

In the meantime, as Benoit waits for the house of cards that’s been so precariously built to come tumbling down at last, he peruses the finer details in the whole fiasco. There’s a kid mixed up in all of this, a neighbor down the block who refuses to supply the police with an address or phone number to call. They’re caught up in all of this because they spent time with the murdered matriarch almost on a daily basis. Reports have come in from multiple members of the family of always seeing the kid there whenever they went to visit the mansion.

It’s got Benoit confused, to say the least. He’s seen nurses frequenting the houses of lonely millionaires before, or greedy grandchildren hoping to score a few extra points by hanging around their soon-to-die relatives, but this is something different. There’s no blood connection between this kid and the victim, and so far as he can tell, they weren’t getting any money, either. No job, no expectations, just a home lent out like a library book, free of charge.

It makes no sense. All actions must have an explanation, yet he’s still waiting on this one. The kid is frustratingly hard to track down as well, and Benoit is forced to go about his days simply hoping that they’ll show up and he’ll have enough time to question them before his attention is pulled in another direction.

He gets his chance soon enough. The kid drops by in the morning out of necessity, and although they don’t seem like they’re going to be staying too long, Benoit still manages to snag them before they slip away.

“I’m going to take a lap around the grounds of the house,” he says as casually as he can, “I hear you’re here frequently, I wouldn’t mind a guide. If you’re willing, of course. I would hate to intrude on your personal time.”

The kid– Y/N L/N, he remembers reading in a brief police report that didn’t have much other information– stares at him for a moment, then nods at last. “Sure. I don’t have much else to do anyway.”

Sensing an opening, or perhaps an intentional lack thereof, Benoit presses on as they turn towards the gardens. “What do you mean? I would have thought that somebody your age would be in school. I know you’re required to be here for the proceedings of the investigation, but surely you would have to get to class at some point.”

Y/N shrugs their shoulders. “I mean, yeah, but school doesn’t start for another hour or so. Beside, I figure a murder mystery is somewhat more interesting than high school, yeah?”

Benoit chuckles. “I can’t say I disagree. That being said, you could be involved in more such mysteries if you finished your education. You have to give yourself all the tools possible if you wish to use them, you know? No good comes in building a house if you’ve only got a hammer and nails. It takes much more than that to make something worthwhile.”

Y/N gives him a sideways look. “Is this your way of saying that I’ve got a screw loose for thinking about skipping world history?”

Benoit snorts. “That would be something. Ha! Not intentional, I guarantee you. I have long since learned that it is best to avoid alienating potential suspects.”

Y/N folds their arms across their chest. “You think I did it, then? Am I a primary suspect?”

“Not in the slightest,” he chuckles, “If you did, you’d be a little more alarmed about me singling you out rather than just being afraid that I’d catch you for not having anywhere else to go after this.”

When Y/N’s steps freeze, Benoit knows his shot in the dark has landed, bulls eye and all.

He continues, sensing an advantage. “That is correct, is it not? The deceased gave you a key to her house because it was the best place for you to be when you weren’t at school. She never knew the full depth of it, of course, but she didn’t ask questions. That’s why you stayed.”

“That, and the conversation,” Y/N says through a forced grin. They sigh and give in at last. “Yes, it’s true. Mrs. Gillespie was kind to me. Kinder than I deserved. She didn’t know everything but she knew enough. Once she made it clear that I wasn’t intruding on her hospitality by coming over all the time, it became a habit.”

“And what are you going to do now that staying at the Gillespie residence is no longer an option?” Benoit asks carefully.

When Y/N is silent, he gets the feeling that he knows the answer. Through some situation or another, there is no secondary location lined up. That’s why Y/N has been coming to the crime scene alongside the other members of the family even though it’s clear that they’re not a real suspect. They simply have no other place to go.

It’s clear that the kid is uncomfortable, so Benoit switches the topic towards a discussion of the grounds. Evidently glad for safer subjects, Y/N loses a bit of their guarded edge, and soon enough begins to rattle off details of the mansion and its surrounding land that Benoit didn’t even know after in depth Googling. It is obvious that they have spent a good bit of time wandering the area, especially in the company of the late matriarch.

It is useful information, but Benoit can’t help turning his focus back to what had been said in the very beginning. Even after the case turns its last pages and settles into the storage of his memory, Benoit doesn’t think that he’ll be able to let this one go so easily. Once the handcuffs are snapped onto the wrists of the murderer, there’s still one soul mixed up in this that won’t have such a happy ending. Sometimes justice isn’t just catching killers, it’s making sure that those who are hurt by a crime receive what they deserve. That includes Y/N.

He isn’t sure how they’ll take it when he makes his offer. Benoit pulls Y/N aside on the final day of the investigation. Everyone is just there on protocol to wrap things up, but he needs to talk to them more than anyone else.

“Listen,” he says in the shadow of a quiet room, “I was thinking about what you said earlier. Our conversation on the grounds, that is.”

Judging by the shift in Y/N’s expression, they know exactly what he’s talking about. “What do you mean?”

“I’d like to extend a similar invitation as Mrs. Gillespie,” Benoit explains, “A ward of sorts, I think it could be best summed up.”

Y/N shakes their head quickly. “I don’t want your pity.”

“This isn’t pity,” Benoit promises, “I’ve been watching you just as closely as our red herrings and killers, you know. I’m fairly sure that you figured out this whole case even before I did. Instincts like yours don’t come around all that often. Maybe you won’t be interested in my sort of murder mysteries in five years, or even two, but I’d like your insights while you’re still invested.”

Y/N stays silent for a moment, and just when he’s starting to think that the whole thing will be for naught, they dare to speak again. “You’re sure?”

“Positive,” Benoit declares, and at last a slow smile breaks across Y/N’s face.

“Alright, then,” they say, “I think I’d like that a lot. You know, I never thought much about actually becoming a detective. Usually my investigative exploits were limited to books, you know? Encyclopedia Brown and all that.”

“Let’s make it real, then,” Benoit offers, “I happen to know a few cases in need of solving over the next few months.”

He solemnly extends a hand, and after a second, Y/N shakes it, their face just as serene. They break eventually, twin smiles crashing through even the most severe of expressions. Just like that, Benoit has a feeling that his investigations are going to be all the better. Sometimes all it takes is a fresh pair of eyes on a case that’s haunted you for a while. The problems to come his way, the challenges to be set before him, they will still be just as difficult as before, if not more so. It’s a good thing, though, that he’s got an apprentice by his side to help him sort things out.

Yes, he has a feeling that they’re going to do just fine.

requested by @starlit-epiphany, i hope you enjoy!

knives out tag list: empty for now!

[bakersgrief]

a/n: I can't draw it, at least not yet, so I decided to write it. Bear Juza! ...Mostly. Everyone is trans and jubantai gives you cavities, basically.

Everyone around Juza could see how they changed. They were becoming more comfortable and confident. Their effort and passion was helping them grow into one of the finest actors anybody knew, breathing life and love into their roles.

Those around Juza could also see they were healing. Juza wouldn't say they had ever been unhealthy, exactly, but it was obvious that they were becoming healthier and happier by the day.

The truth was, Juza had been hurt. They had been hurting for a long time, before joining Mankai. That was where the healing started. And soon, the growth.

It started with a bit of hair. Juza had hair in most of the usual places, but they noticed their chest seemed to be getting fuzzier lately. Over the course of a few weeks, the sparse chest hairs their teenage self possessed grew like a patch of ferns. Soft curls adorned their chest more thickly than before; curls that had trailed down their abs and stomach and up their back and shoulders. It was a little unnerving for them. Juza felt as if it contributed to their masculine, intimidating image. They were surprised by how much their partners seemed to like it.

Laying in bed, Taichi ran her slender fingers through the cloud of curls on Juza's chest.

"It's so soft and fluffy, Juza-san! I didn't think you could get even better for cuddling!" Taichi threw her arm over Juza's abdomen, snuggling closer into their side.

"Can't believe you ended up even more hairy than you were before. You were already gettin' a shadow by the time we went to bed," Banri mused from zir position on Juza's other side. Taichi agreed enthusiastically.

"Yeah," she chirped. "Now they get it at 4 o'clock! You're so cool, Juza-san!"

Juza felt reassured by his lovers' praise. It seemed a shame that their body was changing just as they had been becoming more comfortable in it. Oh well, that was life. (Or, "say-la-vee", as Homare-san would say.)

Time passed. People changed and grew. Perhaps it was fitting that Juza's body was changing now that their life had taken a turn for the better, as if puberty had decided to hold off on hitting them like a truck until they had learned to love their body and their self more than before.

But hair wasn't the end of it. Oh no. As time passed, Juza found the muscles they had gained from constant fights (and maintained from being an actor) were slowly being hidden under a layer of fat. Their body was growing bigger and softer, less hard ridges and more curves.

That was something they didn't dislike. A lot of people disliked having a pudgy tummy, but Juza was very happy with their new soft, squishy body.

"INCOMIIIIIIING!!!"

"Oof!"

Kumon had launched ximself into xer big brother's chest. Juza and Kumon would always be brothers. Regardless of the fact that neither were quite boys anymore.

Kumon squeezed xer big brother enthusiastically.

"You're so squishy, Nii-chan!!!" Xe hollered.

Even though they hated loud noises, Kumon's noises would never be a nuisance to Juza. Xe knew when they needed quiet.

"Thanks, Kumon." Juza chuckled, patting xer head.

Their mother could hardly believe the change her eldest had been through. There they were, on her doorstep. Completely changed from the lonely, angry teenage boy of two years ago.

She could barely keep the tears from falling as she wrapped them in a hug.

"Uh! ...Hi, mom."

"You look so good, baby! You've gained weight- that's so good..."

Juza smiled privately. They thought so, too.

"Hey, Ban-chan! Maybe we should start calling Juza-san Kuma-chan instead."

"Ha? Why would we do that?"

"Well, they're a bear now, right?!"

"Does it even count as a bear if they're not a man?"

"...I don't mind being a bear."

"Good!"

Taichi snuggled deeper into the space between her partners.

"You're our bear!"

Banri reached over and pinched one of Juza's love handles.

"Oi, keep it in the bedroom." They growled.

"Whatever." Ze retorted.

"You're lucky I'm happy being a little femme, otherwise I'd beat you out in the hair department."

"Bullshiiiiiit~" Taichi sang, giggling.

The three of them cuddled closer on the couch, another happy day drawing to a close in the Mankai dorms.

[mrsnancywheeler]

hiii omg so sorry i haven't been in your inbox! finals have been sweeping me away, but i've been lurking 👁️👁️ ok so i was listening to my playlists and had some #thoughts, so I shall share them to make up for the time i was gone 🤝😎 ----- I Want to Write You a Song - One Direction

I want to lend you my coat One that's as soft as your cheek So when the world is cold You'll have a hiding place you can go I want to lend you my coat Everything I need I get from you Givin' back is all I wanna do (…) I want to write you a song One to make your heart remember me So any time I'm gone You can listen to my voice and sing along I'm such 1D trash 😭😭 But this was on my yearning playlist (lmao) and I was thinking about how Finnick would 1000% write this song for his sweet girl. Like this is such a simp song (respectfully) and we all know Finnick is so in love with her its SICK ----- In Agreement - Lizzy McAlpine I talk to my friends about you Pretty sure they're tired of hearin' it I say "I met a guy, and he treats me real nice" Which is good for a change I talk to my friends about you And I think they agree my exes weren't always great And I don't really buy into fate But you tell me I'm pretty And you don't ask for too much 'Cause you know and I know That promises sometimes can hurt When it's barely begun And I don't want this to fall through Collapsing is what I'm used to But we're all in agreement This is something I should hold onto (another song on my yearning playlist LMAO) but this is very much sweet girl coded #idk bc this is definitely her inner monologue when she first meets Finnick and they start dating 😭😭😭 AND WITH THAT IN MIND, IT MAKES THE LYRIC "'Cause you know and I know that promises sometimes can hurt when it's barely begun, and I don't want this to fall through. Collapsing is what I'm used to" HURTTTT ----- girl i've always been - Olivia Rodrigo *just the entire song*

No like, walk with me here 🚶‍♀️ because this is definitey something that could've been written by Billy's muse HOWEVER, it can be either about Billy OR, OR!! Eddie. Do we see the vision👁️👁️. For Billy, it's written from the pov of a reader who has a lil kick to her, who's done being the doormat and rips into him after he disrespects her and he's all like "???" For Eddie, it's more from the perspective of a reader who is always gonna pick Billy over Eddie. And she told him this many times. Yet, he still pursues her. And yet, he still get's upset that she always picks Billy. His intentions aren't coming from a good place. Like that one blurb you did about Eddie not being a fully good guy, y'know? I'm not good at explaining things so I hope I'm making sense LMAO ----- BACK TO FINNICK AND HIS SWEET GIRL! Block Me Out - Gracie Abrams

Now I only let me down When there's no one else around I've been thinkin' way too loud I wish that I could block me out I wish that I could block me out, out I think I'm burnin' alive, but nobody sees the fire 'Cause when I open my mouth, I seem to be stuck in silence And I thought of leaving tonight, but I couldn't drive this tired Plus, after all of this time, I should be a pretty crier (😭!!) Wish I were heavier now, I'm floating outside my body It's not their fault, but I've found that none of my friends will call me Until I'm left to myself, it's honestly kind of funny How every voice in my head is trying its best to haunt me This is another sweet girl coded song. This could deffo be applied to her after her games and after she's rescued from the Capitol :(((( ----- Finishing off with a bit of Miss Swift, this one part of Delicate reminds me of Finnick's sweet girl in the last couple of chapters: This ain't for the best My reputation's never been worse, so You must like me for me Where she's finally letting Finn back in and allowing herself to be comfortable with him :') Also, some its and bits of Marjorie also remind me of this fic when I think about it from two perspectives:

The autumn chill that wakes me up You loved the amber skies so much Long limbs and frozen swims You'd always go past where our feet could touch And I complained the whole way there The car ride back and up the stairs I should've asked you questions I should've asked you how to be Asked you to write it down for me Should've kept every grocery store receipt

If I didn't know better I'd think you were still around I know better But I still feel you all around I know better But you're still around

One being Finnick when he's missing the reader while he's in 13 and she's at the Capitol :( (Sometime I remember that part in Chapter 1 of The River where he smells peaches in his oatmeal and starts breaking breaking down, and I cry 🥲) But the other one being the reader thinking about Conway. Even though he tried to kill her, she still reminisces about the best parts of her friendship and can't help but feel the guilt and regret whenever she does. ------ OK HEHE THOSE ARE MY #THOUGHTS 💆‍♀️ I didn't realize how long it's been since i've been in your inbox and it's been WAY TOO LONG! never again 🫡 I love yapping about these things and I love hearing your thoughts about it!! Also, apologies in advance for when Tortured Poets Department comes out bc it'll be the biggest yap session ever once I make a connection between Finnick/Billy and any of the songs -🦅

AAAAAAA POOKIE I CALLED AND YOU CAME ILY 😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺🥺💋💋💋💋

(sorry this took so long to get to I get so easily distracted and there's an to get through)

you're all good pookie, I hope finals are going good and that you're taking care of yourself babes 💕

finnick odair the type of man to make you a mixtape that's kinda messy and done wrong but you don't care because he's so sweet and you can hear him talking and all the songs that make him think of you, he's such a simp, and so adorable

justice for finnick's sweet girl. she really had so much hope, felt so loved, so in love and had it all torn away from her. she's so giddy to be perceived by someone especially finnick odair and just addicted to him

billy's muse getting annoyed with eddie and giving daisy some lyrics about eddie instead this time bc she's so done with the way he's always being so sweet and comforting and lovey dovey and then trying to convince her to leave billy for him even though she's told him from the start she wouldn't, and he makes her feel so selfish, and cold for it. but "now you're on my case, how could I go? you never dreamed I'd be so cold and, then with venom on your tounge you ask me who I have become" honestly in this case I think billy would love the song because it validates that she'll always pick him, that eddie, although he's a nusciance, isn't a real threat and never had been.

and eddie gets annoyed for a good while and is pissy about it, which is painful for muse because she feels like she's got no one when her and billy argue. but eddie comes crawling back trying to win her over again regardless of how clear she's made it that he never stood a fighting chance.

SIDE NOTE: this song also makes me think of conway and sweet girl especially in that moment during their games when he's realizing everything and says she's changed which she denies. "so don't say that I've been acting different, I'm nothing if I'm not consistent" "I got wrapped up in the game again and you woke up in an empty bed, and I can't say I'm a perfect ten, but I am the girl I've always been"

aaaaa finnick's sweet girl, my poor tortured baby. the crying, the destructing when left with her thoughts, the death wishes, the silent cries for help that really aren't that silent, I want to hold her so bad

and for delicate, finnick's anxiety about not knowing what's not enough and too much for his sweet girl, where is the line? "is it cool that I said all that? is it chill that you're in my head? cause I know that it's delicate."

finnick thinking about how he should've done more, should have paid more attention even though he has her memorized, that somehow he should have savored every moment with her because he can't bear being without her. and the guilt because he wishes he'd supported her more, helped her heal more, he lies awake thinking about how he should've convinced her that life was worth living, that she was worth it because he has no idea what's happening to her now.

AND her thinking about conway, how she should've really paid attention to each tiny detail of their life before the games, each smile, joke, laugh, every damn moment before she destroyed it all. before snow destroyed it all. and she does see him everywhere and try not to break down, the beach they used to play on, the alleys they used to hide in to chat endlessly, their favorite field, favorite swimming hole, everything and it just makes her grieve.

I LOVE YOU POOKIE AND MISSED YOU 😭😭❤️❤️

SO REAL AND PLEASE SO I'M SO SO EXCITED FOR THE ALBUM AND I'M ALREADY SEARCHING FOR CONNECTIONS (billy and his muse as my boy only breaks his favorite toys, but daddy I love him, I can fix him (no really I can) I can do it with a broken heart)

[cardiac-agreste]

How has the MLB fandom personally affected your day-to-day life, and what were the major things you used to do, in the fandom in your first year, that you no longer do.

I have way less free time thanks to the MLB fandom! And I wrote a novel! Yes, it's unpublishable as it is fanfiction, but I WROTE A NOVEL! Something I'd decided I wanted to do before I turned 40. And people like it?? SPLENDIFEROUS.

The big thing I used to do my first year that I (almost) no longer do is participate on the MLB subreddit, which is extremely toxic IMO. Just an absolute shit experience if you like the show. It often felt like I was one of the few people there who didn't hate it. It was not a happy time and place to be a fan!

I am there way less now. I'm so busy writing my fanfiction (like A Small but Stubborn Fire) that I can barely keep up with reading the fics I like (shout out @uptoolateart @wehadabondingmoment @nemaliwrites @raspberrycatapult @wackus-bonkus-maximus @monpetitchattriste @pisoprano @wield-the-mighty-pen @sing-in-me-oh-muse AND SO MANY MORE(seriously see attached screenshot how HUGE my backlog of subscribed fic chapters I have to catch up on!), let alone go get flamed on Reddit for daring to suggest that Marinette is fundamentally a good person.

For your reading "enjoyment," my autobiography

No one actually cares, but I'm on roll.

I was a huge anime fan in the 90s and early 00s. But then I moved to Japan and realized most anime is crap (just like most of any country's TV output is crap). But subtitles often make things sound more profound than the original. Fortunately yet unfortunately, I stopped needing them. (Plus the novelty of it that went away once I was in-country.)

So for about 10–15 years, I didn't watch any anime. Maybe a Ghibli or Satoshi Kon movie now and then.

Then sometime around the pandemic, maybe a bit before, I gave Naruto a go on Netflix after I'd seen a gazillion memes of geeks running strangely in parks. NFLX only had the first half, not Shippuden, so there was no closure for me. I decided to go to the fanfiction world after DECADES of not reading fanfiction. Like, I left the fanfiction world when I was reading Ranma 1/2, so the late 90s?

Anyway, there weren't websites for fanfiction back then. We used USENET. RAAC (rec.arts.anime.creative), specifically.

So I had to legit google to see where you went for fanfiction these days since, as you might have noticed, USENET is nigh on dead now, right? Gen Z out here asking "what is a usenet"

I discovered FFN and eventually Ao3. I kinda wore myself out of Naruto and decided to check out MLB fanfiction since I'd been watching it with my kids and I think we were waiting for the second half of S3 to show up on Netflix.

FUCKING HOOKED. CUE THE HYPERFIXATION.

So my first year deep in the fandom I was reading fanfiction constantly. Just a ridiculous amount. I think I might get the silver medal for amount consumed.

Anyway I'm getting tired of writing about myself (kind of a shocker actually), which means NO ONE is reading this far into what I've written. Point is, I got persuaded through some conversations to submit for the @mlbigbang and I wrote around 75K words and here I am.

FYI this is not reflective of the quality of my writing seriously go read my story, I will give you a refund if you don't like it

EDIT I FORGOT THE SCREENSHOT

[tvrningout]

get to know me meme

TAG NINE PEOPLE YOU’D LIKE TO KNOW BETTER!

1. favorite colors: blue, purple, and orange ( but also all the colors actually )

2. favorite flavors: when i say i love nearly everything you put in front of me... but i'll admit when i see something sour or spicy, i'm immediately fighting back the urge to impulse buy it :' )

3. favorite genres: fantasy, horror, and romance!

4. favorite music: i listen to a little bit of everything, but pop and movie/show/game scores are probably the most common stuff i listen to atm. been listening to a lot of ajr bc they give me a lot of muse inspo for yoshiaki

5. favorite movies: into/across the spiderverse, rise of the guardians, coco, practically any ghibli film, and probably some others i can't think of rn

6. favorite series: all of us are dead, kingdom, new girl, community, and once again! probably others that i'm not thinking of :' )

7. last song: " alone we have no future " from the death stranding score! i really love the entire score and highly recommend it as well as the soundtrack <3

8. last series: all of us are dead :' ) i keep re-watching it bc i love emotional damage and zombies hehe

9. last movie: my friends made me watch this old animated film that i barely remember now bc i was so distracted by their baby asdfg prior to that, i think? i last watched across the spiderverse

10. currently reading: ruin and rising by leigh bardugo, third book of the grisha trilogy! the only reason i'm not done with it is that i don't want it to be over :( i've been eyeing my copy of howl's moving castle lately, too... maybe it's time

11. currently watching: i started re-watching outlander bc a lady falling through time in scotland is right up my alley B) and bc i didn't get very far during my first watch. i'm also working up the nerve to watch the second season of jjk bc i wasn't ready to see this part of the story animated back when i first read it, and i'm not ready now :' )

12. currently working on: got a lore drop about dorverold's afterlife/spirit realm i'm dying to write bc even though i know i probably won't write 90% of these dorks, i love thinking about the deities!! i'm also working on yoshiaki's bio and contemplating a slight reworking of yubari's bio as well as tsugumi and miyuna's just to make them more story-like rather than bullet points. i need to add " notable connections " sections to my muses' stats, too. there's a lot i'm trying to work on, now that i'm thinking about it asdfg

tagged by: @impishsensei & @espectres thank you both very much <3 tagging: @vonerde @fanaticist @fallesto @mythcaels @diaboelic @avaere @futurefind @mellodiies @un1awful and if you haven't done this yet, pls yoink it from me <3

[aldbooks]

hello! how are you? How were your days off?I hope you enjoyed ☺️☺️Am I coming to ask for your writing? 🙈🙈 I can't help it 😃Would it be possible that you have one of Elain jealous hidden there? I need something like this to be able to continue my week ☺️☺️Thanks for creativity 😌😌

Hello! Thank you. My time off was very nice, wish I'd had more of it but don't we always?

Sorry this took a little bit to get to, I was very busy this week. Let's see what we can do. How about a snippet of a scene from a work I'm currently drafting. It may or may to remain in the final draft.

"You're staring," drawled Helion, suddenly appearing beside her.

Elain clutched the goblet of fae wine in her hand tighter in an attempt not to flinch as she was ripped out of her thoughts. "What?" she asked, a bit harsher than she intended.

Helion's golden eyes sparkled down at her in amusement before raising to where her gaze had been glued just a moment before. On the fire haired prince lounging across the room in his new throne, surrounded by fawning females.

One of them, an olive skinned female with silky dark curls and sensual curves was bold enough to plant herself in his lap, stroking her fingers through the open collar of his shirt.

It irked her. Irked her that these females acting like he was their property when they'd only been introduced mere minutes before. Irked her that he did not stop the female's explorations of his body in such a blatant manner. Irked her that he smiled and laughed at whatever she said in a way he'd never done with her...

Holy hells... she was jealous. An emotion she'd never experienced in connection with her erstwhile mate.

"If you disapprove of the attention he's getting," Helion mused. "You could just- turn away. Or... you could do something about it."

Elain sputtered. "I- couldn't care less what he does. He is free to do as he pleases. He certainly doesn't need my approval."

"Indeed? Is that why you've been drilling holes into each female who has dared to approach him for the last half hour?"

"I have not," Elain said, even as her gaze bored into the face of yet another female, a blonde this time, leaned against the unoccupied arm of his chair, thrusting her bosom in his face as she pushed aside of lock of his hair and toyed with the earring at the tip of his pointed ear.

She sat on his left where his golden eye roved over her, though she appeared undeterred by the gruesome scars covering half of his face. None of them seemed deterred by it. Many even seemed to be enamored of the scars. As she watched, the blond ran a red tipped nail across his brow, skimming the edge of the scars and made some comment that drew a smirk from him.

Elain realized she was glaring as Helion said dryly, "of course not."

"You approve of this behavior?" she asked, just barely keeping the snap out of her tone. "He is your heir, a prince. You believe this is appropriate behavior of a representative of this court?"

Helion gave her a dry look. "Flower, you've been in my court long enough ow to know the answer to that. I came by my reputation honestly, after all. Like father, like son."

Elain felt her cheeks flame hot as anger surged. She had indeed been in the Day Court long enough to know exactly what sort of mischief Helion liked to get up to, though he had not engaged in any of it since receiving word of Beron's death in anticipation of finally claiming his mate. The thought of Lucien doing any of the things she'd seen Helion do...

Helion laughed, reading her thoughts. "If it bothers you so much," he lifted a brow. "Do something about it."

Elain gulped the last few swallows of wine in her cup hoping they would cool her and knowing they would do the opposite. Before she had time to think, she slammed the cup down on the tray of a passing server and pushed her way through the crowd, ignoring Helion's deep chuckle that followed her.

When she reached the dias, everyone stilled, looking curiously at her. Lucien watched her with the same sardonic smile he'd worn each time they were in company since his arrival. The female in his lap sneered at her and Elain had to fight the instinct to snarl.

"Lady Elain," Lucien drawled, lounging in his seat. "Are you enjoying your evening?"

Elain dipped a polite curtsey before meeting his burning gaze. "My lord, I believe you promised me the next dance."

For a long moment, they held each others stare as she waited to see if he would play along with her game or reject her. Lucien's head cocked to the side, studying her like an interesting insect and she felt her cheeks begin to burn with humiliation. He was going to say no. Why shouldn't he? She'd humiliated him all those years ago, turn about was fair play.

Just as she prepared to slink away in shame, Lucien grinned. "So I did."

Elain's relief was profound but short lived as he raised the hands of each female on either side of him to his lips and gave them a kiss. "Forgive me, cherie. It seems I have other obligations."

With a wink and a charming smile at the other ladies around him, He gently set aside the one in his lap and rose, stepping down to stand before Elain. Holding out his hand, he bowed slightly as the final chords of the song playing ended and the dancers prepared for the next. "My lady."

There was a hard edge to the words that let her know exactly how pleased he was with her interruption of his evening's entertainment but he was far too polite to ought but acquiesce to a lady's request.

Laying her hand in his, she allowed him to lead her to the dance floor and was further humiliated to realize the next dance was one of the more sensual variety that required partners to move in wholly indecent holds and patterns. A lover's dance. But there was nothing for it now.

She gasped slightly when Lucien's warm hand slid around her waist and pulled her against him, his thumb brushing over the skin of her exposed back. She could feel the muscles of his arm beneath the soft fabric of his shirt as he hand came to rest on his bicep. Her body was pressed fully against his torso and, when they took their first step, his thigh pressed between hers, rubbing against her with each movement.

The hand holding hers gripped it tightly as fire sparked in his eyes but his steps were flawless as he led her through the dance executing perfect dips and turns and lifts, their bodies brushing together all the while until he was breathless and on fire.

When the music came to an end, he hauled her against him for the final pose with one of her legs wrapped around his hip as he leaned back so only the toe of her shoe was on the ground and he was fully supporting her against him, their nose less than an inch apart.

A wave of desire clouded her senses as his spicy, warm scent enveloped her and his lips feathers over her cheek as he brought them to her ear. "Don't ever, ask me to do that again," he hissed before setting her on her feet and turning away with a curt bow.

Elain stood int he middle of the dance floor, stunned and breathless she watched him stalk out of the ballroom.

[sunburnacoustic]

An interview with Matt Bellamy in the Guardian, 17 August 2001. By Will Hodgekinson.

Matt Bellamy is the slight, angular, 23-year-old lead singer of the rock band Muse. He's sharing a flat in north London with a friend from his hometown of Teignmouth and the band's drummer, Dom. The flat has the air of a temporary home with only the bare necessities present and standard regulation furniture fills up the space between a piano in one corner and a computer in the other. For a flat occupied by three rock'n'roll-involved young men, it's surprisingly clean.

"We've been here a couple of months," says Bellamy, who talks in a rapid monotone. "I lived in Exeter for six months and I'll probably be here for six months before hopefully moving to the States. I'm living my life in six-month chunks at the moment."

Laying down roots is not on the current agenda. "If I'm in the same place for too long, I can't write anything. When things are changing, that's when the writing kicks in, whether that change be moving house, or losing a girlfriend, or making a new bunch of friends. Because that's when I get the urge of wanting to be in touch with the one thing that is constant, which is the feeling I get from making music. That's why the last album was called Origin of Symmetry - it's important to have that base when everything is in flux."

Being a child of the 21st century, Bellamy has dispensed with the notion of a record collection for something far more transportable - music stored on computer. "Since Napster went, the program you need is Morpheus, which can not only download music, but films and other computer programs as well. Perhaps I shouldn't be saying this, but I've got AI and all these films that haven't come out yet downloaded on to my computer. And with songs, you download the ones you want from somebody else's machine and form your own playlist."

When he's away from the computer, Bellamy uses a wristwatch-sized MP3 player to listen to music. "You plug a lead into the computer and put on the songs you want, so you can walk around with this and the quality is brilliant. It costs about £250. I'm on planes a lot and they always tell me to turn off my Walkman during take-off, but this is so small that they can't even see I've got it on. When you put these headphones on, it's absolute cut-off from the outside world. You can't hear kids crying or anything."

On the little MP3 player is a catholic range of music. Along with tracks by Rage Against the Machine, Weezer, American lo-fi favourites Grandaddy and funk-rockers Primus are blues tracks by Robert Johnson and European classical excerpts. "When I was about 10 my dad played me Robert Johnson, and that was the first time I heard music that made me feel something, even though what I'm playing on piano these days isn't blues but music from European history, be it folk, classical, or flamenco. I'm into Jeff Buckley's voice a lot too, as he was one of the first male singers who made me comfortable about singing in a female range."

Another favourite is the Belgian rock band Deus. "One of the best rock bands from Europe. They're too experimental for radio here so they've never made it, but they're huge in Belgium. They jump across all kinds of styles and will play anything from blues to disco in the same track. They've been around for about 10 years, and they did a tour supporting PJ Harvey in England, but apart from that, they've never had much exposure."

All of this feeds into Muse's own sound - emotional, heartfelt rock popular with troubled young men. "Chris, the bass player, is into his metal, and for some reason he's also obsessed by the Beach Boys, and he's got all those outtakes of Beach Boys tracks that you can get. Dom's into percussive things like Buddy Miles and the Aphex Twin. We all like Rage Against the Machine, while I listen to a lot of classical music and the other two don't really go there. We meet in the middle of all our tastes with what we do in the band."

From playing us noisy American rock on his computer, Bellamy goes to knocking out some astonishingly accomplished classical piano. "I play the piano for ages because I enjoy the experience of doing it. It's always been something of an escape, if you like," he says. "Then something will come from that and there will be the start of a new song, even if at that point it's just expressing a state of mind, a feeling of loneliness or whatever. I wrote a lot of the last album on tour, so I would often find a piano backstage at a venue, and just play it all day."

Occasionally, there's time for that most traditional of listening pleasures, the record. "Our producer, John Leckie, has opened me up to people like Tom Waits and Captain Beefheart, and even Jimi Hendrix who I don't think I would have listened to otherwise. After a day's session he would pull out a few records and play them in the dark. It was cool."

[levmada]

Congrats on 1k! Can I request a canon verse fic with Reiner and the prompt "I haven't laughed like this in a long time", please?

i most certainly did not listen to no surprises by radiohead on repeat while i wrote this! thank u for requesting i did not cry while writing it either<33

content/warnings: mid-timeskip, Soldier!Reader, Reiner is a sweetie ok, implied depression

wc: ~.6k

When you finally managed to scrounge up some time from your military duties to go see Reiner, you were surprised to see his little cousin whip open the front door instead.

Gabi whips open the door, and shouts your name with glee. "You finally got time off!?"

"In the middle of a war?" you laugh. "Barely. It's good to see you, but is um, Reiner around...?"

You worry she might get the wrong idea, that you're here for only Reiner, but truth be told he's a big reason. It's not just that you two have spent too much time exchanging nothing but letters: you don't think he's been doing well lately.

Gabi's lips part. "As a matter a' fact, he is! Follow me."

Her voice turns hushed after you pass by Reiner's mother, and ascend the stairs. They whine underneath your steps.

"Truthfully? I dunno if he's been doing okay. He's kinda..."

"Distant?" you finish.

Gabi turns uncharacteristically solemn. "Yeah. That."

At the start of the hallway, Gabi shoots you a thumbs-up before bounding back down the stairs with that same little smile she always wears, the bob holding her hair bouncing along.

That's some important info. You store it for later and knock.

"Reiner?" you call when you hear only a soft shuffling. "It's me."

The door pinches open, but just slightly. His voice is like gravel. "This is uh, a surprise."

"Is it?" you quip. "I've been trying to get time off for a while, but I guess I could—"

"No!" he exclaims, then quickly collects himself. "D-Don't go."

The door gently whines open to a disheveled Reiner, skinnier than the last time you saw him, dressed in his bedclothes.

"I've missed you," he says.

You decide not to ask how he's doing at the last second. Both your suspicions and Gabi were right that he's been suffering through something horrible, yet invisible. No question, it has to do with that island.

You want to talk about it, to understand. But Reiner doesn't seem in the mood for that.

"I've missed you, too," you reply, stepping forward and bringing him into your embrace. He tenses at first, not even moving, before his hands finally settle on the small of your back, and his shoulders droop.

"I've missed you," he says again, softer. "Too much. I'm-I'm sorry, I should've written back more."

Your tone is the same. "Don't worry, there's always the future."

He's quiet at that.

"Can I come in?" you ask, pulling away.

As if he forgot something terribly important, his hazel eyes widen, and he stammers to step back. "Right, of course. I could get you something to drink?"

"Really, it's fine," you laugh. "I have everything I need right here."

Reiner laughs at that, and follows you to the small table and chairs near his dresser, which is almost as disheveled as him.

"You're not alone." He rubs his face. "How're things in the East?"

You sigh. It's nothing surprising, really. "We're winning."

Reiner snorts, and you chuckle. It's nice to see him laughing, even if the sound is a bit rough around the edges.

You quirk a brow. "You been sleeping okay?"

"Is it that obvious?" Musing, he swipes his thumb under one eye. "Damn. Yeah, no, I... I sleep better with you," he admits quietly, head downturned. "Sorry. That's forward of me to say."

Your lips press fondly. "No weirder than holding up in your room all day, right?"

Reiner snickers, a hand sliding over his mouth. You brush it off and give him a kiss, and he grins further. A pink blush blooms across his cheeks.

Naturally, your smile grows into a grin, too.

“I haven’t laughed like this in a long time,” he chuckles. "Please. Stay."

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[arctic-shard]

Outer Child, chapter 9

( I've finally decided how things sort out in the end. Not in this chapter, I still have another half-dozen to go, but at least I know where it's going. Which is going to be a huge mess, but we don't need to worry about that yet. )

Outer Child, chapter 9

Warnings: none

Words: 1100~

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In certain ways it was fortunate that Victoria had been fired and locked up in an institution. It meant she didn't have a job or need to cook or clean or do other housekeeping activities. It meant she could devote almost all of her time to Amica and the Doctor. Mostly Amica. While the Doctor generally found his own quiet amusements, Amica wanted attention most of the time.

Not always from Victoria, it also wanted to play with the Doctor, but Victoria rarely made it through writing her notes without Amica calling for her to play, to dance, to brush its hair, or even just to sit and cuddle with it with it while it watched a movie. So much for the electronic babysitter.

While Dr Combs' approach to the Doctor was more clinical, talking to Victoria about what the Doctor had been up to, Dr Usher preferred to talk directly to Amica and only checking with Victoria for confirmation. It might have simply been a difference of style, but Victoria was pretty sure it was just because Usher found the two SCPs-turned-toddlers adorable and wanted to interact.

Today's bribe was chocolate, just a plain milk chocolate bar that could be broken into squares for sharing. Victoria had the vague idea that kids weren't supposed to have candy that young. Well, they weren't ordinary children, she wasn't too worried about it. What was sugar going to do to two entities who didn't sleep anyway, keep them awake all night?

Amica had placed itself in her lap, sitting in Victoria like its throne. The Doctor stuck close, on the side away from Usher. He wanted to be where the chocolate was.

Usher was looking through Amica's drawings. She picked out one of red, yellow, black, and white buildings that were sticking out in all directions. Behind them was a yellow sky and dots of black stars. "Is that your home?" she asked Amica, setting the picture in front of it.

Amica's aspect became tragic as it nodded. "Yes."

"But it makes you sad?" asked Usher. "Are you sad because you're here instead?"

"No. It's bad there. I could make it better." It considered that. "It's bad here."

Usher flipped through the drawings. There were many of Alagadda. "Is there anything good about home?"

"It's home," said Amica simply.

"Is there anything good about here?"

Amica wiggled a bit. "Doctor and Victoria are here."

"That's all? Not even music or food?"

"There's music at home, too. The food is better there." It eyed the chocolate bar anyway.

Usher took the hint and broke off pieces for Amica and the Doctor. "What's wrong with the food here?"

The small chocolate square vanished into the tragic mouth. "It just tastes like food. Food at home tastes like memories."

Usher's gaze flicked to Victoria. Victoria shrugged. "I'm pretty sure I ate 2264-B food, but I barely remember. It was like little bonbons, I think, or tiny cakes. Bite-sized things they can just pop into their mouth holes."

"I would have thought their food would be more luxurious. Sensual," said Usher.

"If their food tastes like memories, maybe those are the senses being titillated, rather than the physical texture," Victoria mused. "But it must have some sort of nutritional value, even if the 2264's don't need it. 049 was there for some time and didn't starve to death."

Usher looked past Victoria and Amica to the Doctor. "I've tried to talk to it about its time in 2264-B. If it didn't remember as an adult, it won't remember now."

It was jarring to hear the Doctor referred to as 'it' again. Even Combs referred to the Doctor as 'he' around Victoria and the Doctor because the Doctor was more cooperative with researchers who talked to him like a colleague and not a test subject. Amica always referred to itself and other Alagaddans as 'it,' so it wasn't as noticeable that Usher was just following protocol.

Usher continued through the small stack of drawings. She wasn't as interested in the ones of itself, Victoria, or the Doctor, but paused on every picture of Alagadda to ask questions. Amica seemed willing to answer all of them, though it quickly became apparent that its answers were inconsistent or obviously made up on the spot. Usher tsked. "I thought you might be more truthful like this."

Amica shrugged and kicked its feet. "I tell stories."

"I want you to tell me true stories," said Usher.

"Home is stories," said Amica, like that settled it.

To Victoria's surprise, Usher didn't get annoyed like most people did when Amica admitted to lying. "So everything's true, because telling the story makes it true."

Amica's aspect flickered to comedy and it nodded so vigorously that a mask that wasn't fused on by eldritch goo would have fallen off. "Yes! Here things are always the same! Home is stories!"

"Fuck me, this could be the breakthrough," Usher breathed. "What if 035's lying and messing around over the centuries wasn't necessarily malicious, it's just … what it is. It's not lies, it's normal and neutral for a place made of stories and change."

"It fucks with the Foundation to be malicious," said Victoria.

"Yeah, but we locked it up for two-hundred years and it hates us." Usher reached for the stack of papers again.

The next drawing was a humanoid drawn in gray, sitting on a throne and wearing a spiky crown. Where the face should be was a black oval. But Amica hadn't drawn an oval and filled it in, it had drawn a spiral over and over again.

Usher dropped the paper as if it had burned her. "Is that …"

"I never saw 2264-5," said Victoria, curious rather than afraid. Amica had insisted that she and the Doctor not look at the Hanged King lest their minds be melted, but this drawing was just a drawing. Maybe the Black Lord's brand was able to protect her from this crude depiction though it couldn't protect her from the real thing.

"My King!" said Amica proudly, aspect changed to comedy. "And Victoria's King and the Doctor's King! But not Usher's." At that last sentence, its aspect became tragic, like it was Usher's loss not to be one of the Hanged King's subjects.

Victoria poked Amica. "But it's not my or the Doctor's King. We're from Earth, not your home."

Amica grabbed her left forearm with all three of its left hands. "Victoria and the Doctor are mine. I am my King's. So you are our King's." Like solving a math problem.

Usher had been completely thrown off by coming face to non-face with the Hanged King. Scribbly as it was, it had been drawn by one of its own advisors. She let out a shaky breath. "Okay. I got plenty of information from this session. I'm going back to my office to write my report. West, could you put … that -" she pointed to the drawing of the Hanged King, refusing to touch it, "- somewhere safe for now? I'll send someone to get it secured in a locker."