#but its like me and the same few accounts and i just wonder like are we ... popular or recommend to follow?!?!?!

[potter-inthe-tardis]

...

[bbyobbyo]

You don’t usually wake up at the same time as Jihoon, but he definitely makes sure that you wake up with him everyday.

content: fluff, established relationship, idol!Jihoon x non-idol!reader, domesticity, spotify as a plot point lol

wc: 1.6k

note: inspired by this reddit post which i thought was 100% something jihoon would do especially now that i know he uses spotify lol. i feel like im the only one who finds it hardest to write for their bias, i get really in my head about whether or not im portraying him in the way I want to. i’ve never written idol!au either (bc i think it’s easy to overdo) which only adds to me overthinking ahhhh but hope that you guys enjoy this one !! as always feedback or comments are appreciated 🥰 I read all of them and they make me so happy hehe

[read pt.2 here!]

Jihoon swears there's something magical about waking up to a calm and quiet morning. The sun is barely just rising, blanketing the world in a soft twilight that cuts the dark blues of the waning night. And in his bed, he finds something equally as magical: your soundly sleeping figure next to him. The world is silent except for your steady breaths, and he has to take extra caution to not fall asleep again if just to enjoy the brief moments of tranquility like this during his otherwise busy life. Eventually he gets up to start his schedule for the day, taking one last look at your peaceful slumber in fondness before he closes the door behind him.

Make no mistake, Jihoon loves his job. Having 13 members in his group is fantastic, except when you realize that 13 people requiring styling and wardrobe before every public appearance takes a lot of time. His mornings may start early, but in reality most of his time is spent listening to music in salon chairs and dozing off in waiting rooms.

In fact, it was in the middle of getting his makeup done when he discovered that around 8:20 am every day, his Spotify (which he uses to listen to his daily Bruno Mars Mix playlist) stops playing on his phone and switches to… the speaker at home? He bought a new speaker a few days ago because the last one you had was on its last legs from years of use, but if it’s malfunctioning already then he might have to look into getting a new speaker sooner than he thought.

Upon closer observation, Jihoon also notices that the song has changed — it’s playing one of his songs, your favorite one actually. Immediately he realizes what happened. He contemplates shooting you a text to tell you to disconnect him and just sync your own Spotify account to the speaker, you’re home more often than him anyway. That thought quickly disappears, however, as he imagines you getting ready for work listening to the sound of his voice and genuinely enjoying the music that he pours his heart and soul into, he can’t bring himself to disturb you even for a moment. His eyes soften as he stares blankly at the Spotify home screen, headphones now deafeningly silent. Surely, Jihoon decides, he can live without his Bruno Mars Mix for just a while longer.

-

You sometimes wonder if your boyfriend is magic. Although a good morning text has been standard in your relationship since the beginning, it's starting to concern you how perfectly timed it is.

Normally, your morning routine is simple. Wake up. Get out of bed. Bump some tunes. Check your notifications. Brush teeth. Wash face. Get dressed. Pack bag. Leave the house.

You’re usually the one to text him good morning given your later wake up time, yet he’s been beating you to it lately. Yes, he knows you set your alarm 8:15 everyday because it's “the perfect amount of time you need to get ready and still make it to work on the dot”. But that doesn't explain why “rise n shine babe :))” pops up on your phone as you brush your teeth on the days you wake up early, too.

[8:06 am] you have to tell me how you do it

[8:06 am] Do what????

[8:07 am] im onto you mister 👁👄👁

[8:07 am] 👍👍👍

You spiral through the possible scenarios in your head: he has your location, but that wouldn’t tell him when you woke up right? Does your icon move around on the map? No, the location data isn’t that accurate. Maybe when you open your phone, your Facebook status shows that you’re online? No, you know for a fact that you both haven’t opened that app in years. Hmm, did he plant cameras everywhere in the apartment? Sure, you get the security utility of it but if he did it without telling you, there would be some SERIOUS things to talk about, maybe it really is all just guesswork and coincidence?

Sigh… you’ll get to the bottom of this eventually.

-

Jihoon doesn’t plan on telling you, but rather wants you to figure it out yourself. After all, he’s been dropping so many hints already. Your chill hangouts at his studio have a gentle hum of your favorite songs as background noise. He purposely asks you about the new albums of your favorite artists that, surprise, he’s already listened to. He even makes it a point to remind you that the speaker at home is hooked to his account every now and then.

Sometimes, he swears that you’ve figured it out and were just messing with him when you make little comments about your his song choices like “Really babe, you listen to your own songs this often? Are you sure you’re not a narcissist or something?” But besides these moments, there was no indication that you knew about his secret morning routine as you questioned him regularly about his tactics.

He has to admit, it was kind of amusing to see you growing increasingly suspicious of how on earth he figures out when you wake up, being particularly fond of the cute annoyed face you make when he tells you “No babe, I did not put an Air Tag in your pajamas, you barely sleep in clothes anyway.” Even your pout is adorable as you pretend to give him the silent treatment, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to keep it up for long. His little secret is safe for another day.

-

Jihoon has been working brutal hours lately. As deadlines for the upcoming albums drew near, his days start earlier than ever and end equally as late. However, the one thing he can always count on is coming home to you waiting for him.

It was the night of the new album release and you were more excited than usual, greeting him at the door like a lovesick puppy as soon as you heard the door handle turning. “Hi love, what are you doing up so late?” he pulls you into a quick kiss as he sets his stuff down.

“I wanted to wait to listen to the new album with you so you could see my reaction to it!” your eyes were beaming with enthusiasm. Jihoon’s heart swells at the sentiment, knowing that his partner supports him and his passions with such sincerity. You excitedly motion him to join you in your shared bedroom, full of anticipation to hear the fruits of your boyfriend’s labor for the past months. “Alright, you’re not allowed to be disappointed then” he jokes as he pulls out his phone, quickly finding the recently released album and making sure the volume is high enough before tapping the first track and handing it over to you.

Only a few seconds of the song passes before an idea flashes across your eyes. “Wait, let’s play it on the speaker!” you interrupt. You’re on your feet in seconds and before Jihoon could even reach over to press pause, you’ve already commanded your home speaker to play the track out loud. The music immediately ceases on his phone and switches over to the speaker.

Shit, he’s done for, he thinks to himself. He studies your face carefully for any indication that he’s been found out but surprisingly, your attention is laser focused on the melodies now reverberating around your apartment. You’re mostly quiet during the songs but the rhythmic nodding of your head and facial expressions are a tell all of how much you enjoy each track that plays, contorting in a myriad of impressed shapes as killing part after killing part reaches your ears.

As the album comes to an end you look like you’re about to burst at the seams. Your boyfriend can’t control his smile as compliments and detailed thoughts flow freely from your lips for the rest of the night, not ceasing even as the both of you walk through your unwinding routines together. God, you love comeback days. The elaborate music show stages that you will undoubtedly watch later that evening has already been pre-recorded, giving you precious time together in the morning before his schedule whisks him away from your arms once again.

As you get ready for bed, you drift off to sleep knowing that tomorrow, for the first time in what seems like forever, you can finally tell him good morning in person before he can.

-

Your alarm rings at 8:15 am. Jihoon doesn’t need to be up this early, but he would do anything in order to be the first thing you see when you wake. You roll around in his embrace and press a kiss to his cheek. “Good morning” you both whisper to each other at the same time, sending you both into a fit of giggles as you argue who said it first.

Jihoon watches in adoration from the bed as you so naturally go through your morning routine, one that he misses out on more often than he would like. Today, you forgo your usual morning songs as you queue up your personal favorites off the new album, much to his delight. He tries his best to burn this scene into his memory as you gather your things and prepare to head out, giving him one last kiss. You’re about to unlock the door when you pause in your tracks.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” he hums back from the bedroom.

“Enjoy the speaker, I can’t kick you off today.” you say with a smirk on your face as you exit the apartment, leaving Jihoon speechless.

[chipedusk]

Hey Deltarune Fandom

I know its 3am as I wright this but I think I found something online that might be important- or at least, be something to consider- food for thought and all that jazz-

you see, I was scrolling thought reddit when I came upon a particular post...

it starts of seeming very normal, right? I mean, it's just your average detarune fan asking about equipment advice, right?

but.. somethings... off, to say the least......

Not only is the wording weird when talking about Spamton, (with the phrasing of "Spamton dude" being particularly odd, as to get to Spamton's shop, you need to get fairly familiar with him and his character, but this user seems to be acting like this is their first time meeting him.) But Spamton HIMSELF seems to look... Different than usual. Or, at lease, different than his usual shop sprite that is...

and I was not alone on this sentiment, as the comments noticed too!

which leads to wonder....

... yeah, that...

To which OP provided an... Interesting answer....

D-.... Didn't have the money? But, deltarune is free game? Or, at least, Chapter's 1 and 2 are...

you see, a while back, Toby mention online that Chapters 3, 4, and 5 would all be released together, and, unlike the first two, cost money. (or as a certain salesman would phrase it, cost some [[Sweet, Sweet KROMER]]!!!)

Not only that, but its kinda ironic that this user pirated a copy of a free game, and have the one character who has a history with shady links (or in other words, [[Hyperlink Blocked]]) be the one who's changed... Almost as if this bootleg game has its own bootleg of Spamton... The one character who literally tries to be a bootleg of ANOTHER character in-universe. *Cough cough* Swatch- *Cough cough*

But this also leads to question... are there any other differences in the game? I mean, it is a pirated game, surely there has to be some other differences from the original game other than some seemingly random shop sprite of spamton, right?

luckily, I was not the only one who was curious about this and a user by the name of kuro50 ask OP to quote:

To which OP responded:

how... convenient.....

I mean- don't get me wrong- I get that feeling not having any program to record with (though than again OBS Studio exist)- but even still, all of this seems a little bit too, odd to just let off as something "normal"...

but, than again, its not like there's anything necessary wrong about it either, right? I mean, sure, it weird that someone pirated a free game, but, maybe they're just some gullible kid online?

...Except, a user by the name of ThePotatoPerson510 pointed out a few striking things...

And then... it all stared to click...

I went to check the profile and, just as ThePotatoPerson510 had said,

"u/ThatDudeTobias, Cake day December 27, 2022, made 12 hours ago..." the same hour as the spamton post was made... almost as if the account was made just so they could post this.... (Note: the previous image in this post of the spamton post says it was made 10 hours ago. This time gap is because I have been writing this post for 2 hours straight now- coming onto 3 hours- as such, I give you this screenshot showing both the post and the profile, and thus, showing they were in fact made in the same hour-)

MID WRIGHTING UPDATE: It seems as if there WAS a time gap between the two post, as its 5:24am and I just took THIS screenshot showing the time gap. Take this how you will I suppose ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Now, about the name... It seem kinda... on the nose, to say the least. I mean, Toby, Tobias, seems a little to similar, right? But, at the same time, knowing Toby, he would be the type to use a seemingly obvious while still not TOO obvious name to fuck with us (he DOSE have a history with being a troll when it comes to his games ¬_¬||)

Also, looking back at the spamton image and comparing it to the name "Tobias", they both share one thing in common... They're both SIMILAR to their originals, to the point where you can tell what they're based off of, but, somewhat off...

As for the one other post on the account, well...

its..

... A comment on MeIRL?

Well, what's the original post?

A..... Video of some guy walking up the stairs, only to keep looping up the same steps, unable to get to the end?

Well, that's... anticlimactic..... Sooo.... Is this just some random account then? Was all of this just for nothing? Was it all red hearings in the end? Well, that's what I thought..

For you see, I realized something....

Toby Fox is a well-known fan of anime, but, not just any anime.... specifically, JOJO'S BIZARRE ADVENTURE. How do we know this? Well, in undertale, there is an item in the game called a Punch Card

When this card is used in battle, it says, "OOOORAAAAA!!! You rip up the punch card! Your hands are burning!" This increases your attack. "ORA" Is a common phrase screamed in JOJO' when one of the Jostar's are attacking.

Not only that, but in deltarune, main antagonist of chapter 2 is Queen.

her battle theme? Attack of the Killer Queen

Killer Queen is the stand of Yoshikage Kira. The main antagonist of JOJO'S BIZARRE ADVENTURE: Diamond is Unbreakable. Which is the 4th Chapter of the series.

So, what dose ALL of this have to do with the video "Tobias" commented on? Well, you see, in JOJO'S BIZARRE ADVENTURE: Stardust Crusaders, when Polnareff, one of the main protagonist, tries to walk up the stairs to face DIO, the main antagonist, he finds himself in the same loop as the man in the video. Continuously walking up the same set of stares, unable to reach the end.

Meaning, the video that "Tobias", or, as we presume, Toby commented on was in fact...

A JOJO REFFERANCE, AND THUS, MAKES PERFICT SENCE AS TO WHY HE WOULD COMMENT ON IT

...... And so with that last tidbit out of the way, we are left with 3 conclusions that we can come to... 1. This "Tobias" is actually Toby Fox teasing us about Chapter 3 and or some other upcoming scheme of his he has up his sleaves.

2. This "Tobias" is actually Toby Fox just fucking with us

and 3. This is some third party not affiliated with Toby but still making something and teasing it (possibly and ARG or something of sorts) .... That or I've just spent over 3 hours of my life typing this up only for it to be a shitpost by Temmie or something :/

either way its 6:41am as I type this and I have not slept all night so I hope you liked this deep dive analysis into this possibly important reddit account that could hold significant lore for the upcoming chapters of deltarune and if you'll excuse me I'm going to go collapse on my couch for the rest of the day :) have a wonderful time zone <3

[afyrian]

☀️🏠 + post brazil shoyo please !! any format

hope uve been good <3 waited on the event since u posted about it im so excited to see what u write

sunburn soulmates hinata shoyo x fem!reader (fluff) synopsis: sunburn + next door neighbor word count: 720 warnings: sunburns masterlist

   rapid knocking rattles the paintings by your front door, your apartment walls thin and weak. your eyebrows furrow curiously at the extreme noise. it takes you a few seconds, but you can recognize the rapid knocking, the heaviness of each knock attributed to one person. it has the same melody every time, even if it’s unintentional on his behalf. 

  you shake your head, smiling to yourself, wondering what your next door neighbor needed. tying the string within your shorts a little tighter, you open the front door, eyes peering at the man in front of you. there your neighbor stands, his skin a deep pink color and some tan lines around his eyes, "shoyo? what happened?"

  the obvious answer pops into your head, but with how burnt he is, it's hard to wonder how this could've happened to him, "we had some beach volleyball games today. do you think you could help me with some aloe vera?"

  "sho.. this looks terrible!" you bring your hand up to your cheek, covering some of your mouth as you shake your head, "i mean i can help, but shoyo this is absolutely terrible! and dangerous, gosh you really have to worry about this kind of stuff!"

  he waddles into your apartment, careful not to bump anything in the fear of feeling the painful sting. you purse your lips as you watch him make his way over to your couch, sitting on your floor in front of it. very rarely has he come over for help like this. however, in those few times, you still found yourselves giving it a certain routine. his legs are crossed, waiting patiently for your help.

  following him over, he hands the bottle of aloe vera to you, it nearly empty from his accidental burns. "your concerns are absolutely valid! we were just out for so long and forgot to check the time," shoyo frowns away from you, yet you feel like you can hear it in his voice. 

  even if neither of you have said it, he always feel bad whenever you worry for him. the anxiety in his heart building equally with yours, not for his own health, but for you. for the stress that he unintentionally causes within you. 

  "next time set a reminder or an alarm or something!! doctor's orders," you dump some of the aloe vera into your hand, stamping it onto his back in different places, trying to get it spaced evenly.

  "ma'am yes ma'am, i'll even call you every time i reapply just so it keeps me accountable," he looks back at you, wincing a little as his neck twists with his head, a smile still somehow making its way to his face, "if you're okay with that, that is."

  you roll your eyes to yourself, leaning forward to spread it across his back. he turns back around before he can see it, unable to see your reaction. however, he can tell that you won't say to no to him, not in a million years you'd say no to him. and he's correct, you mentally preparing yourself to take him off of do not disturb. 

  "yeah it is, you know it is sho. besides, i like having you as my neighbor. you're dependable, kind hearted," you run your hands up his neck, just barely feeling the short hairs right under his hairline. 

  goosebumps run up his back and you can see him shiver a little. the aloe vera creates a cool coating on his skin, rivaling that of the heat that the sun added to his epidermis. "you do? well then i'll have to stick around for a little while longer. plus it seems that msby black jackals is looking for players," he mentions, indicating that he wouldn't be moving back to argentina anytime soon. 

 "you'd stay for little old me?" you question, running your hands down his sides, nearly finished covering his back with aloe vera. 

  "yeah, yeah, i'd stay for little ol’ you," he turns to look at you, unaware of how close you are to him now, nearly off the couch as you lean forward. 

  you stare into his brown eyes, unable to look away from them. there's always been something about your next door neighbor that you couldn't quite escape. particularly the love that he feels for you.

a/n: i’ve been great!! thanks for this prompt, i loved it <33 and i hope i did your idea justice!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 4

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

Even if the work is a lot and at times tedious, you’re grateful for the excuse to stay inside. As you hole yourself inside the house and tidy the messes, big and small, you can hear the conversations out the walls, wafting in through open windows. It’s as content as your mother’s been in the last few years. Steve is nice enough and he doesn’t have that same snooty lean as the other suburbanites.

As you mop, you think of how he mentioned the city. You wonder what it was like. Before your grandma passed, you and your mom lived in a walk-up in a small town. Everyone there knew your names too and reviled it just the same. You never mean any harm but wherever you go, you seem to inspire spite.

Dishes, floor, walls, dusting, errant cobwebs, clutter...

You work until your mother comes in, swinging the door violently as she drags herself inside. You go to help her and she swats you away. You retreat and she finds her way to the recliner. You shut the door and lock it.

“Wonderful man,” she groans as she lays her head back and tilts the chair, extending the footrest, “don’t make ‘em like that anymore. He’s the sort I shoulda picked.” She closes her eyes and gives a wry hum, “’specially over your dad.”

You don’t say a word. She only mentions your father to remind you of that half of you she hates. You gather up the clothes on the couch into a basket. The laundry will have you up late. Your own fault; you should’ve done this all a lot sooner.

“Should I start dinner?” You ask.

“I don’t know if I’m in the mood for burnt chicken,” she scoffs meanly.

“I could do mac and cheese,” you offer.

“I’m teasing ya. Jeez, you got no sense of humour,” she sighs dreamily, “not like Steve. Such a charming man.”

You pass through the kitchen and descend to the basement to fill the washer. You add soap and twist the knob. You leave the basket on the lid and head back up. You peruse the fridge as you ponder what to make. Mac and cheese would be easiest.

You get started and the TV blips on in the next room. The audio helps chase away the tension. You leave the water to boil and lean on the archway that looks into the front room.

“Um, mom, what should I make tomorrow? For uh, dinner? With... him?”

“Well, don’t sound so damn excited,” she sits up, “whatsa matter with you? The nice man wants to come see us, unlike the rest of these snobs. My own sister won’t come through that door.” She snorts and shakes her head, “you can go to the store tomorrow and grab something nice. I don’t want ya serving that man starchy potatoes. Down at the fancy store, they got those premade meals.”

“Those are expensive,” you remark.

“And? You get your stipend, you don’t gotta be leeching off of me,” she snips.

“Um, yes, I know, I wasn’t--”

“God, look at that,” her eyes flick up to the ceiling, goddamn dusty, it’s a wonder I can breathe.”

You look up and see what she means. There’s a layer of dusty on the ceiling fan as it turns lazily on its lowest setting.

“I’ll get it--”

“Better. You’re not gonna embarrass me tomorrow. I’d be better off if you stay in your room,” she tuts.

“If you want--”

“No, you come out and say hi. Don’t be rude. You know I did try to teach you manners. You just never spoke enough to use them.”

You frown and look down meekly. She’s not wrong. You turn and go to grab the duster. You don’t think tomorrow is going to be any different than any other.

🏠

The next morning, go out to the grocery store to grab the meal for that evening. As you return, you linger at the end of the street. You can see Steve on his lawn. You wait for him to go inside before you drive up and pull into the driveway.

You carry the bags inside with your sights set on the house and nothing else. Inside, you put down your haul on the counter and put each item away, one at a time. Your mother is in the bathroom, chirping out a song out of key.

“God dammit,” she snarls, “I can’t find my red lipstick,” she rattles through her bin of makeup. She doesn’t wear it very often. “Get in here.”

Before you can pass the open door, her demand pulls you back. You enter as she sits on a stool in front of the mirror. She shoves the bin away and grumbles.

“Here,” she holds out a pair of tweezers with a tremble, “damn brows are unruly.”

You nod and step closer. You press a hand gently to her forehead and pluck out the stray hairs, shaping them as best you can.

“Don’t forget my lip,” she huffs hot breath onto you. “Don’t think he’ll like the tickle.”

She chuckles to herself. You don’t get it. You finish and step back, holding up the hand mirror for her. She shrugs.

“Get me some of that moisturizer,” she points unsteadily to the shelf above the toilet. You do as she says. “Mm,” she grumbles as you face her again, “not wearing that, are ya?”

You look down. The loose tee shirt with butterflies on it and the faded jeans are a bit plain. You tug on the hem and raise your head.

“You got a dress somewhere in there,” she shakes her head as she flips the cap up on the bottle after three tries. “I bought you some nice ones and you never put them one.”

“Uh, okay, yeah, I’ll check,” you promise. “Need help?”

You reach for the bottle and she keeps it out of your reach. You back up and leave her. You can sense her agitation growing.

You cross the hall to your bedroom and go to the closet. You slide the door open and sift through the contents hung from the bar. There’s a dress. A pink polka dot dress she got you in high school. Nothing special; a bargain bin cotton a-line with thin straps.

You take it out and examine it. That was the only dance you went to. You got stood up by the boy who asked you. You realise now it was only ever a joke at your expense.

You undress by your bed and put the dress on. It’s tight. Maybe it’s shrunk or maybe you’ve gotten bigger. You didn’t think your chest had grown that much since high school but it’s bulging out and your thighs feel a bit too exposed. You go into the hall and back into the bathroom. You shift the door as you mother works as spreading the eye cream above her cheekbones.

You look at your reflection and cringe. You turn to your mom.

“It’s too small,” you say to her.

She peers over with a scowl. She looks you up and down and drops the tube of cream. She shakes her head.

“Put a sweater over it,” she sneers, “it’s fine.”

“Right, uh, okay,” you agree and swallow. Even with a sweater, you don’t know. The skirt won’t be any longer.

“Would ya stop crowding me?” She shoos you tersely.

You push the door back against the wall and slip out of the bathroom. You head back to your bedroom and pick out a grey cardigan. It has no buttons but it’s at least as long as the dress. It’s better than feeling so exposed.

You hardly think it will matter. You already feel like a third wheel. Steve didn’t exactly spend hours talking to you and your mother as much as said you are collateral. They’re both just putting up with you because you’re there.

You run your hands over your face and hair. Can't dress that up. You pout at your reflection. You wish you could iust hide on your room and draw.

You look over at your sketchbook and cross the room. You sit on your bed and slide the folding table close. You open the pages and pick up the pencil. You straighten the page you tore from the old home and garden magazine and copy the shape of the amaryllis petals.

You can forget a little longer until real life wakes you up.

[artdcnaldson]

Can you do arts reaction to reader just not inviting him to her next "dance" because she thought he wasnt interested so she didnt say anything please?

Maybe he saw a picture on myspace or something

Rating: T

Warnings: None really, just angst and Art being heartbroken over losing his best friend

Summary: Spring 2008. Art wishes that he had thought to unfriend you on MySpace.

A/N: ok I’m ngl I saw specific words and ran. The words in question: “Art’s reaction” and “MySpace.” Unedited

MySpace was in its death throes. You had to have been the last active user by that point, happily posting collections of photos like it was your own personal scrapbook.

He didn’t even use it himself, not really. He had when he was sixteen— filled it with pictures of him and Patrick and the shitty music he’d liked. Lately, he’d been logging in just to check on you.

Not often. He wasn’t a creep, or anything. He just wondered, sometimes. He knew you had a boyfriend, or something— you posted cryptically about seeing someone plenty enough. Art just wanted to know who the asshole was— if he knew him, if he deserved you.

Most people had switched to Facebook— including Art. He knew Patrick had an account, but he didn’t feel like adding him, and apparently the sentiment was shared.

That night, he pulled up your MySpace page, decorated in the same pink and green shades as your dorm room. It was a normal routine— look at the music you were listening to, read your blog posts, look at your photos. Casually, of course. This time, though, he froze.

Because he did know the asshole you were with— not hidden behind cryptic posts, no longer shrouded in mystery. Clear as day, in photos you’d taken on your digital camera.

Patrick Zweig.

For once, the brunet was in a nice suit, with a bow tie and everything. The first picture was of him, flipping off the camera with a smile in the middle of a formal dining room. The next few were of both of you sitting on an empty tennis court, drinking champagne straight from the bottle, and sharing cigarettes.

Look who needed a date to a “boring, formal rich people thing” after months of me going to his “boring tennis things” <3

That was all you’d said about the pictures. Art swallowed, opening up the photos to take a closer look. You were wearing pale yellow silk, like moonlight. You posted a close up of you in the dress, of pretty silver jewelry against your skin, then a few scenery shots— flowers, a fountain, the putting green at night.

That was the country club he played at when he was 15 and stayed with Patrick for the summer, the type of place that it was best to be seen and not heard. He knew that Patrick’s family were wealthy before, but that summer had put things in an entirely new perspective.

Patrick hated shit like that— the pomp and circumstance. The Patrick who had been his friend wouldn’t have been caught dead at a… he squinted to read the signage in the background of a photo— Benefit for Children of… whatever, he couldn’t make it out but he knew it was stupid.

It wasn’t Patrick. He knew it wasn’t Patrick even if they hadn’t spoken for a year.

Sometimes he asked himself why that was. Tashi dropped out, transferred to a school closer to her family. Being at Stanford had been too painful, which he understood, but he missed her. They kept in contact, which was good, because he had a suspicion he’d die if she wasn’t somewhere in his orbit.

It wasn’t lost on Art that he’d chosen Tashi over Patrick. He didn’t regret choosing Tashi, but he might regret it more had it not been for that night.

He couldn’t prove that it had been Patrick in your room, but he had a feeling.

It had gnawed at him as he sat on the floor outside of your door, nursing a beer long after you and whoever it was had finished and fallen asleep. He caught the tail end of it, even over the blaring music— the slamming headboard, the pretty noises you made when you got close.

He’d been sexiled enough by Patrick before to feel a twinge of familiarity in the muffled groans on the other side of the door. But it made no sense. Or it made perfect sense, and Patrick rarely did and that’s what made it so hard.

Art had chosen Tashi, Patrick chose what was Art’s. Tied everything in a nice little bow.

He’d been missing him. Of course he missed Patrick, in the same way he craved a cigarette after quitting. He knew it was bad for him, he wanted it anyway.

Or maybe Patrick wasn’t bad for him, and he was the one who cleaved him out of his life with a rough, messy slash. He loved Patrick, but he needed him as much as he needed a burst appendix that was poisoning him from the inside out.

If he thought about Patrick Zweig for too long, he’d get a sick feeling in his stomach, all hollow and achey. He itched to call him, to ask how he’d been, and how the tour had been, and if he was doing okay.

He let the phone ring once, twice before he hung up, feeling like an idiot. There was a thick, strangling feeling in his chest like he might cry, which was stupid.

It was all so stupid, how much he missed Patrick. Patrick, who had you, and a tennis career, and his rich parents who he suddenly wanted to be around. Maybe Patrick was better off, but it didn’t make him feel much better.

His phone buzzed on his bedside table, ripping him violently from his self pity. 

Patrick [1:26 AM]: was that an accident?

Art didn’t respond, even though he wanted to. It was probably for the best.

Sorry I made this mostly about Art missing Patrick instead of Art missing R but … alas it felt true. If I think too hard about the twelve years they spent apart I feel insane.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Reading that female beastmen are mostly stronger then males, this got me thinking that Ruggie sister when in desperate measures she go hunting with some of the hunting group to get food

I liked to think Ruggie mention when asked a question that how his sister went out and came back home with two water buffalo for the family to eat as she can't always used her unique magic during the dry season

And the camping event she did the same habit and brings in a giant elk to share and eat

Leona, Jack, Rook, Sebek,Vil, Azul

Seeing Ruggie sister brings in their hunt and apologize for letting their instincts get the better of them as she just wanted to provide the best she can

Fun fact: Hyenas have the strongest bite force that they can able to break bones, and they are very social animals and they are more related to cats then dog

Ruggie’s Sister Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

It's the modern era hunting animals with your hyena features isn’t exactly as accepted nowadays. Not to mention Ruggie’s comfortabiltiy; if you're the original little sister you’re not supposed to be too intimidating. That’s part of the reason you and Ruggie get along so well. You’re not threatening and you still rely and respect him. In a world of bold beastwomen you're his little ray of gentle light. He’s going to protect that no matter what! But it seems he not the only one:

Leona Kingscholar

“How do you expect to get anywhere in life, without me?”

He knows what makes Ruggie so protective of you

He respects that

But he’s going to have to swoop in and steal your heart

He’s sure Ruggie will appreciate it 

Or the massive wedding dowry in his bank account

But no worries you’re not like everyone else and neither is he

So you two just happen to be perfect together

Jack Howl  

“I know how special they are…that’s why I’m going to protect them too!”

He means it 

Even willing to help his senior if he needs an extra pair of hands

When burying your enemies

He knows he’s got a long way to go 

But he’s going to make it work

After all a mate as special as you deserves a worthy partner

Rook Hunt 

“Oui oui mon amour est là grain de sable spécial!“

That’s exactly why he so dutifully follows you and monsieur dandelion

Such a curious couple of hyenas are always wonderful to admire hunt

You’re no anomaly 

You’re the diamond in the rough

The one he will no doubt have

Sebek Zigvolt

“LOOK! THIS IS THE CALIBER OF A TRUE BEAST WOMAN! I SHALL FIX IT!”

You make him blush

You make him think about you

You fill his head with thoughts of you about how to keep you

Perhaps its because of your abnormal behavior 

He really loves it

He’s going to correct this behavior

Even if that means eliminating all distractions

Vil Schoenheit 

“But of course, the one I love is a high profile candidate. Too bad though they are mine.”

Such a gentle flower

He’s decided to pick you

Even if he has to poison the surrounding weeds

Maybe even a dandelion if he becomes too much of a problem

Azul Ashengrotto

“Their behavior isn’t at all like most beastwoman…I may open an investigation.”

Investigation…paying to have a thousand photos of you

Or convincing you to earn a few at the monstro lounge

Where he can watch you without restraint

He knows your special no doubt a high commodity for most

Well until he gets into a proper position to woo trap you 

He’s willing to string those interested in a harrowing contracts

[animesimp-writes]

YO, YO, YO! (Billy referred.) Hope your having a wonderful morning/afternoon/evening/night Mel! Could you write a Luffy x fem! Reader fic? Like They're making jokes on the deck of the thousand sunny while the rest of the crew is asleep, and Luffy calls Y/N pretty and stuff, and then confesses, saying that Robin and Nami told him he was in love with her after describing how he felt about Y/N?

If you don't want to write it, thats okay (bc I dont know if you write for other fandoms) but stay safe and stay hydrated! :)

-Anon <3

# Summary ; Late one night aboard the Thousand Sunny, Y/N and Luffy find themselves alone, sharing jokes and laughter under the stars. As the conversation takes a sincere turn, Luffy surprises Y/N by telling her she's pretty and confessing that Nami and Robin pointed out he might be in love with her. Realizing his feelings are true, Y/N admits she feels the same, if not more. Before she can fully express herself, Luffy kisses her, sealing their mutual affection with a sweet and tender moment.

# Notes ; Heyy!! I LOVE One Piece, its my favorite anime for years <3 It's my first time writing a fic instead of headcanons ON TUNBLR so I'll do my best :D Also, yes, I am writing for other fandoms, so please don't be shy to request. And sorry for being away for so long, I just needed some time for school and I honestly forgot about this account and had to study since I'm going to high school in a few months. Wish me luck!!

Late at night, the Thousand Sunny drifted peacefully under a blanket of stars. The gentle rocking of the ship kept the Straw Hat Pirates lulled in a deep sleep. Everyone, that is, except for Luffy and you.

You were sitting next to him on the deck, the night air cool against your skin. The only sounds around were the occasional creaks of the ship and the soft lapping of the ocean against the hull.

"Y/N, you know, I think I could eat a thousand meat skewers in one sitting!" Luffy said with a wide grin, his eyes sparkling in the moonlight.

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. "Luffy, I believe you could do it. But how would you even fit that much food in your stomach?"

He laughed, the sound warm and carefree, and you couldn't help but laugh along with him. The way he made everything seem so simple and joyful was one of the many things you loved about him. For what seemed like hours, the two of you exchanged jokes, stories, and silly banter. Luffy was on a roll, saying the most random things to keep you laughing. But as you waited for him to crack another joke, his expression softened. His gaze settled on you, and the intensity in his eyes caught you off guard.

"You're really pretty, Y/N," Luffy said suddenly, his voice quiet, but sincere.

You blinked, a little taken aback by the shift in tone. "W-What?" you stammered, feeling your cheeks warm as you processed his words. "Why would you say that all of a sudden?"Luffy rubbed the back of his neck, his usual confident demeanor now tinged with something more thoughtful. "Well, Nami and Robin were talking to me the other day. They said that when I described how I feel about you, it means I’m in love with you. And I think they’re right… 'cause I’m always thinking about you, and I like being around you more than anyone else."

Your heart skipped a beat. Hearing those words from Luffy, who was always so focused on his adventures and dreams, made your chest tighten with happiness. You glanced down at your hands, fidgeting nervously, trying to find the right words to tell him that you felt the same way. "Luffy, I… I feel the same," you began, your voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe even more than you could imagine..."

Before you could finish your sentence, you felt a gentle touch on your chin. Luffy had leaned in closer, lifting your head with his hand. Your eyes met his, and in that moment, the world around you seemed to fade away. Without another word, Luffy closed the distance between you, pressing his lips softly against yours. The kiss was simple, sweet, and filled with all the emotions you both had been holding back. Your eyes fluttered closed as you melted into the kiss, your heart racing in your chest.

When he finally pulled away, Luffy's smile was the brightest you'd ever seen. "I think I like kissing you too," he said with a chuckle.

You giggled, your cheeks flushed, feeling a mixture of joy and relief. "Me too, Luffy… me too."

GAHHH!! I loved it so much, hope you guys do to! If you want more like this, drop a request in my "Ask Me Anything" hope you guys have a wonderful rest of your day, bye! <3

[manicrouge]

Christmas Comfort

[ꜱɪᴍᴏɴ ʀɪʟᴇʏ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

[ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇᴅ]: 25/12/23 (REPOSTED: 09/02/24)

[ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ]: After Johnny's death and a failed mission, Simon returns home to his girlfriend.

[ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ]: 3.3k

[ᴛᴡ]: hurt/comfort, angst, a somewhat happy ending (it will never be fully happy without soap I am sorry) possible mw3 spoilers (if you have been living under a rock please avoid)

[ᴀ/ɴ]: THIS IS A REPOST !! I've had few issues with shadowbans and have moved accounts a few times (tumblr thought I was a bot). I want all of my stories to be on the same blog so I apologise for the repost.

ANYWAY !! ENJOY !!

Christmas this year is going to be tough.

You know it from when you open the door to him on Christmas Eve. 

Time has passed, he hasn’t been home for months and you were starting to convince yourself that it’s going to be years before you ever see him again.

When you were talking on the phone earlier, sometime during the middle of November, he had made a comment that he wasn’t going to come back home until he had made sure he had the pleasure of declaring that the enemy that had murdered his best friend was officially gone for good. While your chest tightened at his comment, you had nodded along and assured him that they would catch Makarov eventually; there were only so many places one man could hide before he’d revert back to familiar ground. 

You feared the same for Simon at that moment. In fact, even with him home safe, you still do.  

Of course, you would never say that to his face.

Despite his capability in combat, however, you often find yourself awake at night wondering just how capable he was when it came to processing and dealing with loss. Had he done what you assume he has done, he was most likely going to run from it instead of addressing it. Problems will build up and up until they came tumbling down. It’s a simple thought to construct during the late nights you have been spending alone since the news of what had happened to Johnny had found its way to you. Just as such a thought is easy to construct, you find that another one comes to you quicker than the former: where would Simon be when the building he’d constructed over the years fell to pieces? 

There were only so many places he man could hide before he’d refer back to familiar ground. Even if said ground was crumbling around him. Maybe in his misery, he would find solace in falling to his doom with the chunks of shattered earth surrounding him.

If that assessment is wrong, it doesn't matter; your brain has decided it before your heart even gets a say.

You have very little to go off of concerning with how he dealt with loss, the occasional comment about his mum was enough for you to know that he wasn’t the type to completely forget about a loved one. 

He's vague about his past. The less said about it the better. 

‘You keep pawing an’ clawing at my brain like a damn puppy,’ he said, trailing his hands through your hair. You were guilty, for sure you were. Curiosity was sure to be the death of you in that regard. He’d let small facts slip on occasion, although, you knew his accidental slip ups were most definitely intention. 

Of course, Simon Riley was no fool.

’Just tell me something,’ you begged, ‘like… I don’t know, what was your favourite food to eat at Christmas when you were younger? Ooo, I bet it was something like liquorice. You’d so make your nan pissed by robbing all the good shit out of the sweet tin.’ You laughed at the thought of a tiny Simon Riley climbing on top of a chair, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he attempted to snatch the sweet, sweet treat of liquorice. 

‘Are you fuckin’ kidding me?’ he scoffed, ‘actin’ like I’m an old man doll,’ he snorted, ‘stop tryin’ to pester me f’r memories you have no business viewing.’

‘Is it illegal to be curious now?’ you asked with a playful smile. It was silent for a moment, and you lifted your head in an attempt to find his eyes in the darkness.

‘Yes, it is,’ he said, ‘you don’t wanna know me from the past, love,’ he huffed, ‘doesn’t matter now.’

‘You won’t even tell me what your favourite food was during Christmas?’ 

‘No,’ he reverted back to the same Simon you had seen when Johnny had been talking his ear off during the rare nights out you had had with 141. ’Now go t’ sleep, gonna be tired in the morning if you keep rambling on. My ears are burning with ya, doll,’ he teased, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you firmly against his chest. 

Despite everything telling you to pull away from him, you maintained your closeness, the warmth of him far too appetising to refuse. Exhaling deeply, you rested your head against the pillow, staring straight at the wall in front of you. Your heart hurt at the very thought that he cared so little about his past that he fought to keep everything from his earlier life away from you. Even the smallest things. Of course, you would never had pried him, only the few passing comments in hopes for him to slip up as he had done a few times before. 

Another hard sigh escaped you as you close your eyes. He shifted behind you, resting his head against your shoulder. You thought nothing of his sudden movement; it wasn’t uncommon for him to do so while you were sharing a bed together. Only, he turned his head, his breath ghosting your ear. Inhaling, he swallowed hard. ‘Mum used to make us roast dinners,’ he whispered, ‘used to always slap my hand away whenever she was cooking cause I used to always rob the pigs-in-blankets while she was still getting dinner ready.’

A small laugh passed your lips as you turned in his hold, placing your hand against his cheek with a cheeky grin. He stares back, blue gaze gutting through the darkness, slicing your soul to pieces.  ‘Now, will y’ stop huffin’ and puffing and just go to sleep?’ He asked, placing his hand over yours. 

‘Soundly, Lt.’

Even behind the mask, you could sense the sadness, the loss. A flurry of emotions hits you when you first see him after what has happened. What can you say to him? Anything other than I’m sorry seems to be an insult to him and to the memory of the man that is sure to haunt him.

The mask hides his face, but it never hid his eyes, his tired and war-weary eyes. It's a brutal sight to see the man who had put the fear of God through you when you had first met reduced to this crushed soul. 

‘Simon,’ you say after a while of the pair of you just standing there, staring at each other. For a brief moment, it felt as though you had opened the door to a stranger instead of your boyfriend. Lifting his head, his Adams apple bobs beneath his balaclava as he steps forward. You take a step back, letting go of the edge of the door. Still, he doesn't speak, only standing there, observing you. ‘I thought you said you weren’t coming home until—‘

‘Don’t wanna talk about it,’ he answers, closing the door behind him.

His clothes are branded with the stench of war, and you take note of his bloodshot eyes. Has he been crying? You thought it impossible for such to be the case, he’d do no such thing. But, when he shakily inhales, grabbing the edge of his balaclava, your stomach dropped.

‘Place looks nice,’ he says, though his eyes don't leave you, ripping his mask from off of his face, shoving it into of his cargo pants. His words were shaky despite the stoic expression on his face. ‘You been alright?’

You look at him with wide eyes. ‘I- uh- yeah, yeah, just sorting out last minute things for Christmas,’ you answer, ‘how about you go and get a shower, get changed into some fresh clothes? I’ll make you something to eat—‘

‘Not hungry,’ he answers frankly, ‘appreciate the offer, doll, but I think I’m just gonna go straight to bed,’ he says. All the moisture in your mouth disappears and you’re forced to swallow a dry mouthful of air as you look up at him. 

‘Right,’ you nod, ‘I- I’ll be up right after you, just gonna turn everything off down here,’ you say.

He doesn’t answer you after that, dropping his duffle bag down on the ground by the front door as he traipses up the wooden steps of your home. The garland wrapped around the bannister winks at you as you watch Simon walk up the stairs, almost mocking you for ever think it was a good idea to decorate.

The entirety of your house is wrapped like a Christmas present, reds, greens, colourful lights- everything. Whether it was the right thing to decorate or not, you choose not to focus on it too much as you rush around the house, switching off the decorations and the lights, leaving the washing you had been doing on the counter in the kitchen. 

All of it can wait. But he can’t. 

So, with such a thought in mind, you busy yourself with your plan. What is included in that plan can be decided as you’re walking through the house, back to the staircase you have just seen your poor boyfriend walking up.

Jogging up each step, you decide that ultimately, everything that has happened in the past few months with be something he will not be willing to discuss with you; he made it clear when he walked through the door. Don’t push him on it.

When your foot hits the last step, you nod to yourself as you consider what you would do if he did want to talk to you about it. If he wants to talk to you about it, then you rejoice in his openness. But it isn’t necessary for him to have your undying support. No matter what he decides, ultimately, your heart is never going to fail on him. 

Before heading into your bedroom, you gulp when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. Pulling it out of your pocket, your eyes scan over the message, a shallow exhale escaping your lips. 

Mum &lt;3: Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. made sure to grab extra pigs-in-blankets incase Simon decides to appear sometime. Love you xx

Begrudgingly, you stare down at the message before looking at the bedroom door. From beyond it, you can hear the running water in the shower and all you can think about is him. So, with a deep breath, you look back down at your phone and begin to type. 

From ‘me’: Slight change of plans but I don’t think we’re going to be able to make it there tomorrow. Simon’s just got home and he’s not good. Don’t think socialising is what he needs right now. Sorry, I love you xx

Choosing has never been easy, yet, when you pushed open the bedroom door and saw his clothes sitting on the bed the pair of you share, you decide that that choice was the easiest one you have ever made in your life. It isn’t a sacrifice when it is necessary. At least, not when it comes to Simon at least. 

--

‘I’m not going home tomorrow,’ you tell him when he walks out of the bathroom. Part of you feels bad for bombarding him with something as soon as he walks out, but the affirming text from your mother causes your heart to swell, and when you see him again, it bursts. His hair is damp and he pulls his face out of the towel with a surprised look. His scarred cheeks are branded with a subtle red tinge from the heat exuding from the bathroom. The heat works well to melt his features just enough for him to mould them into a dissatisfied sneer. ‘I don’t wanna fight you on this, Si.’

‘You can’t cancel on your family,’ he says, approaching his dresser. ‘Not right. I don’t want you to do that for me,’ he continues, grabbing a t-shirt, pulling it over his head. ‘Go spend time with them, am fine here.’ 

‘I already told my mum,’ you say, ‘she’s fine with it,’ you quickly reassure, far too aware that he very well may be a ticking time bomb.

Oddly, you request of not fighting on it seemingly works as he looks over his shoulder at you. There is simply no fight left in Simon Riley anymore, you conclude it from the way he shrinks as he exhales, padding up to the bed. It was as though he had left the house as a grenade left the hands of a soldier. Upon his return, the body of what made him him: his danger, his determination, and his strength had all been lost and you find he has been reduced to the pin pulled from the grenade. 

Looking up at him, you find that it is up to you if you’re going to discard it or keep it as a keepsake.

Pulling the edge of the duvet, you pat the side of the mattress, ‘c’mon,’ you say gently. He doesn’t wait to climb into bed beside you, resting his weary head against the pillow. It’s as though someone is pressing down on his chest as he heaves a sound unlike anything you have ever heard. Exhaustion was clear, but grief was easier to identify in his eyes. Leaning over, you turn the lamp on your beside off, trying your attention to him, lying on his side. 

There’s nothing to say. Not to him, not for him, not for yourself. You just lay there and stare at him hoping something will come to you. Anything said will be a bittersweet lullaby, you’re convinced. Nothing is going to put him to sleep. ‘Your minds running; faster than mine, sweetheart,’ he says. His eyes are closed when you look at his face. ‘Don’t want you doin’ stupid things ‘cause of me.’

‘Nothing is stupid when it comes to you, Si’,’ you weakly state.

At this point, you heart is racing, your tongue tangled as you contemplate every single word on the edge of your tongue. ‘Mum said she’ll bring us dinner tomorrow,’ you say with a weak smile, debating on whether or not you should spoil the surprise. ‘We can eat it and watch something… if you want to.’

‘What’s she bringing,’ he asks.

‘A roast,’ you answer, ‘it is Christmas after all.’

He’s quiet for a while, almost as though he doesn’t even want to think about what day it is. December 24th. Christmas Eve. You’re unsure how exactly the holidays work in 141, only noting that he had been away a few times during Christmas. Oddly, this is one of the first ones he’s home with you. His second Christmas since knowing Johnny that he isn’t with him. Your heart weakens at the realisation, your brain cursing you with the knowledge of something so agonising.

They had spent Christmas together.

And now they won’t and never will and it isn’t just because of the distance between Manchester and Scotland.

Rather, it’s because of the distance between this life and the next.

Your eyes well with tears and you close them. Your heart hurts for the man lying in front of you, and when you hear him clear his throat, you find it difficult to contain your own sorrow. ‘Doesn’t feel like Christmas,’ he tells you, his voice trembling as he does. ‘Haven’t slept at all since ‘cause I can’t stop thinking about him just… lyin’ there,’ his throat tightens and his tone grows pitchy as he inhales deeply, swallowing hard. ‘I shoulda done something, I should’ve been there f’r him.’ 

He’s crying at that point, but not sobbing. In fact, you only know he's crying because, when you place your hand against his cheek and the pad of your thumb wiped away a tear that falls past his eye. ‘You were,’ you choke out, ‘even in death, you were loyal to him, Si’, don’t you dare go cursing your own name for something you were not responsible for,’ you demand. ‘You’ll get him.’

‘We’re fallin’ apart without him,’ Simon sniffles, ‘bet he’s sitting up there pissin’ himself seeing me like this,’ he utters. The pair of you share a laugh at the thought and you move close to him. ‘I just… I told myself after everything that happened to mum and Tommy, I wouldn’t feel anything ‘cause that fucked me up, but then I met Johnny a- and I met you.’

You hold your breath. 

‘Simon—‘

‘And what if I can’t keep you safe? I’ve failed at it so much and that fucking pricks got me doubting myself now—‘

‘Shut up,’ you firmly say, ‘I don’t wanna hear it, Si’,’ you utter, ‘and neither would Johnny.’

You press your thumb against his cheek, ‘doubt is a killer, and it’s not me who you’re not gonna be able to protect if you keep thinking the way you are, it’s yourself,’ you continue, licking your dry lips, ‘and… and if you die, then who’s gonna steal the pigs-and-blankets on Christmas Day?’ 

Whether it was time for humour or not, you’re unsure. But, as you thinking for a moment, you recall the tales told to you by Simon during his time away, particularly his time with the Shadows. 

Two goldfish are in a tank… 

‘You still remember that?’ he asks eventually. You feel the muscles contort in his face as he smiles at you. 

‘Always,’ you respond, ‘mums got them with the dinner tomorrow ‘cause I asked her too… said she got extra incase you planned on robbing any of them.’ You feel bad telling him such information knowing that you had chosen to cancel the holiday. If anything, you’re worried about the guilt you’re causing him by rambling on about the stupid fucking pigs-in-blankets. ‘My point is Si’,’ you take a deep breath, ‘I need you here with me so you can fulfil your duty.’

He shifts and pulls you closer, wrapping his arm around your waist, pressing his face into the nape of your neck. Your hand brushes through his hair, melting in his arms as his hot breath fans against your neck. ‘Wanna see your family tomorrow,’ he says, ‘I’ll go with you.’

‘Are you sure—‘

‘’Ave been stuck in my mind for nearly two months,’ he confesses, pulling away from your neck. ‘Fighting with myself over everything, I’ve hardly spoken to Price or Gaz,' he says. You press your lips together, the thought of him being alone nauseating. ‘Be a waste of money as well if I didn’t try pinching the food your mums made, wouldn’t it?’ 

You feel him smile as he presses his face back against your neck, his grip on you so tight its almost painful. But you relent, allowing him to have the comfort he so deserves. Resting your head above his, you close your. Whatever awaited you in the future can wait, you conclude.

‘I'm proud of you,’ you whisper, pressing a kiss onto his head. 'Never gonna let you doubt yourself ever again, not on my watch,' you continue, 'now sleep. We can talk more when you're ready.'

He smiles again.

'I know I can sleep soundly now,' he utters against your skin, 'got you beside me.'

With that, the pair of you fall into silence. You don't sleep, not until you feel his breathing steady against you skin, the subtle rise of his chest as he keeps his arms around you. You keep running you fingers through his hair before eventually, you find your eyes growing heavy and you drift off.

[batrachised]

SO.

Dean Priest.

Watching the book trundle its way towards this chapter has been interesting, because as Emily steps into her own voice (although really, she's always had it) - Dean appears. This is going to be a weird analogy, but Dean is kind of like a rotten onion. There are so, so many layers to unpeel there - LM Montgomery seemed to have him as a pet character, he's rife with symbolism and allusion, he's disgusting, he's ominous, he haunts the narrative - but in the end, after all that peeling, you just have a rotten onion. This is my clumsy way of saying my personal opinion (personal! opinion!) is that while looking at Dean, saying "pedophile," and moving on is more than valid, (He is a rotten onion!), there's also key elements to his character that I think are incredibly essential to the book as a whole - specifically, the book's commentary on women writers.

Dean is like the evil version of a kindred spirit. There's some old saying about if you don't listen to your kids, they'll find someone who will, and I think this heavily applies here. It's not lost on me that we get Dean's perspective at length; it feels very significant in a book that, excluding throwaway lines, has Emily's voice front and center - until Dean appears. He's presented as enticing and disturbing all at once - @gogandmagog and @no-where-new-hero had an absolutely brilliant post the other day comparing him to the Big Bad Wolf. Emily seems drawn to and repulsed by him at the same time. He seems to fancy himself as a Rochester, which we can take or leave (I leave lol), and from the beginning, from the very first interaction, he makes clear that he wants to own Emily.

So, if Dean is so awful, why is he presented as appealing at all? I mull over this a lot. The easy explanation is that LMM had no problem with age gaps and grooming, as shown in other stories where she outright endorsed it (unfortunately, it seemed to be a popular trope of the time). But Dean is presented as ominous, and age gaps are criticized, and one minute he's denoted as having "strength, tenderness, and humor," and the next he's flinging "cobweb fetters" over Emily.

I would say (and thank you to @limestreet for the brilliant analysis a few months back, best take on Dean I have ever seen imo), that Dean represents the threat of the patriarchy to women's artistic voices. Of course Dean is appealing - he's a more viable threat to Emily's voice specifically because he's not an Aunt Elizabeth or Uncle Wallace. It's easy enough for her to dismiss them. But Dean quite deliberately enmeshes himself in Emily's life and explicitly (in later books) threatens her writing. Dean is the "it's your writing or me," and he's chillingly effective at making sure to make that a hard choice, when Emily at no other point hesitates to pick her writing, whether when burning her account book, writing on letter bills, risking the wrath of relatives, or any other of the endless hurdles she has to overcome.

Knowing that Dean represents that threat (how women writers often were forced to pick between, one might argue, the 'seduction' of marriage/family and writing), puts a curious light on this passage:

“That’s good. Because you see your life belongs to me henceforth. Since I saved it it’s mine. Never forget that.” Emily felt an odd sensation of rebellion. She didn’t fancy the idea of her life belonging to anybody but herself—not even to anybody she liked as much as she liked Dean Priest. Dean, watching her, saw it and smiled his whimsical smile that always seemed to have so much more in it than mere smiling. “That doesn’t quite suit you? Ah, you see one pays a penalty when one reaches out for something beyond the ordinary. One pays for it in bondage of some kind or other. Take your wonderful aster home and keep it as long as you can. It has cost you your freedom.”

According to Dean, Emily reaching for something out of the ordinary (such as a writing career) must cost her in bondage. And this is where I think of LM Montgomery, miserable in her marriage to a jealous, resentful, unstable husband, LMM for whom Emily was heavily autobiographical, LMM who despite her writing success, had to marry to secure her future. I have never agreed with Dean being Ewen's stand in, but I do think Dean as a character feels pointed.

I'm going to be reblogging past discussions on Dean later so hold onto your hats!

[section-chief-prentiss]

girls

Summary: After an UnSub threatens to out you, you come out to Emily. 

Word Count: 2269

TWs: threats of being outed, coming out

Ao3

This whole case had you on edge.

It was a local case, and normally, that fact brought you comfort. Sleeping in your own bed after a long day was exactly what you needed. 

You got home late and beelined for your bed. If you were lucky, you could squeeze in a few hours before you needed to be back at the BAU in the morning. 

You started stripping as soon as your door was closed and locked behind you, shedding clothes on your way to your room. You threw on the first oversized t-shirt your hands touched and rolled into bed, your mattress welcoming you into its warm embrace. 

You plugged your phone into the charger on your nightstand and set your alarm, cringing at how soon you would need to be awake. But before you could lock your phone, a text rolled in from an Unknown Number. 

Stop investigating or I’ll tell your team you’re gay. 

Your blood froze in your veins. The UnSub your team was chasing was technologically savvy and had proven he wasn’t afraid to use it. Through various social media accounts and other media leaks, he’d flaunted the victims he’d kidnapped and killed, and so far, Penelope had been unable to track him. 

You debated the odds of this being a random spam text when another appeared.

If you arrest me I have a failsafe that will alert them right away. 

You knew better than to respond, but you knew you couldn’t block him until Penelope took a look at the message.

The thought stopped you in your tracks—if you showed Penelope these messages, the team would find out anyway. 

It wasn’t that you were ashamed of your sexuality; your family knew—you came out to them when you were 12. Your mom and your brother were your biggest cheerleaders, and while it took your dad a little longer to come around, he was firmly in your corner now as well. Your friends were no different. 

But work was another story. You loved your BAU family and trusted them with your life, but you’d only been with the team for a year. And you weren’t in a relationship at the moment, so your dating life just… hadn’t come up. You’d always known you’d tell them eventually, but you wanted it to be on your terms. 

Despite the threat, you had no intention of stopping investigating or encouraging your team to do the same. 

But the nagging voice at the back of your head that it could all come crashing down at any moment left you with a lingering feeling of dread that kept you awake, tossing and turning until your alarm went off just before sunrise.

You stumbled through your morning routine like a zombie, moving aimlessly from room to room. You made coffee on autopilot, dressed in a daze, and didn’t realize you had two different shoes on until you were one step out the door. You swapped one out for a matching set, grabbed your bag, and headed to the BAU.

You wished you could shake it off. Pretend it didn’t bother you. But as you took your seat at the round table, you knew the carefully crafted facade you’d put up was already chipping away, and it was only a matter of time before your team saw through it. 

“You look like hell,” Rossi said, taking the seat next to you. “Did you sleep at all?” 

“Not really,” you hedged, taking another swig of your coffee. 

Tara and Luke filed in next, and you absentmindedly exchanged morning pleasantries with them, glancing at your watch and wondering what was taking the rest of the team so long.

Emily, JJ, Reid, and Penelope buzzed into the room together, and the energy they brought with them made you sit up a little straighter.

“Our UnSub has made his next move,” Emily announced. She stood at the front of the room, pulling something up on the screen behind her, while the rest of the team took their seats. 

Screenshots of texts filled the TV, and a hush fell over the room as everyone took them in. 

Stop investigating or I’ll tell the press about your addiction, one read.

Stop investigating or I’ll tell the media about your pathetic sister, read another.

With a click of the remote, two more messages appeared, with familiar text that sent a shiver down your spine.

If you arrest me I have a failsafe that will alert them right away. 

You glanced at the timestamps of the messages, fighting to keep your expression neutral. You’d stared at the messages you received long enough to know they came at 2:41 AM. These messages had been sent just a few minutes before.

“JJ and Reid received these texts last night; we assume they’re from our UnSub,” Emily announced. “Before we start today, I need to ask if anyone else received a message last night. You don’t have to reveal what it said; JJ and Reid gave me permission to share theirs, but I need to know if he’s targeting anyone else.”

The team glanced around the table at each other, shaking their heads. When Emily’s eyes met yours, you found yourself shaking yours as well before you could think about it. 

“These threats say more about the UnSub than about us,” JJ said. “He thinks these are threats, but they just prove we’re human. It wouldn’t change how people perceive us, and even if it did, I wouldn’t care.” 

You’d turned to Reid, skeptical. “Is that how you feel?”

To your surprise, he only shrugged. “I’m proud of my sobriety. Last year alone, 17.82% of Americans had a substance use disorder. It’s more prevalent than anyone wants to believe.”

Your heart swelled at their bravery. But the text message you’d received still hung over your head.

“Penelope is working with JJ and Reid’s phones to see if she can trace the messages back. If anyone else receives anything, please let me know right away. In the meantime, Luke and Rossi are going to head down to Metro P.D. to interview more of the victims’ families,” Emily said. “Tara and Y/N, the M.E. is expecting you; she has the latest autopsy results. JJ and Reid are going to stay here with me, and we’re going to work on the profile.”

The team dispersed, but you felt glued to your chair. 

“Are you okay?” Tara whispered.

You nodded. “I just need a minute. I’ll meet you in the bullpen?” 

Tara put a hand on your shoulder before doing just that. 

When your legs stopped shaking, you stood and glanced through the windows at the rest of your team. Emily made eye contact with you through the glass, and you tilted your head toward her office. The raven-haired woman nodded, and you both wordlessly made your way over.

You beat her to it and started pacing across the carpeted floor. You kept your hands clasped so Emily wouldn’t see they were shaking. 

The Unit Chief closed her office door behind her. 

“Is everything okay?” she asked, sitting on the edge of her desk. 

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. You closed it again, mind reeling. 

Were you really about to do this? This hadn’t been your plan when you walked into work this morning, but you knew it was the right thing. 

Despite that, your heart raced in your chest. Stars danced across your vision, and your breathing became shallow. 

This wasn’t fair. You cracked your knuckles, a nervous habit, but your hands shook as you did so. 

Tears threatened to spill over, so you turned away from your friend, sitting on the small couch on the opposite side of the room. You pressed your palms against your eyes, willing the emotion to go away. 

“Not now,” you whispered. “Please not now.” 

The couch shifted as Emily took a seat next to you. She placed a gentle hand on your back.

“Take your time,” she murmured.

You pulled your hands away from your eyes and clasped them in your lap. 

“I got a text from the UnSub last night too,” you said, voice raspy. 

Emily moved her hand from your back to resting on your knee. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.” 

You nodded. You knew you could trust Emily—trust your whole team. None of them would judge you or think lesser of you, of that you were sure. But your heart still felt like it was going to burst out of your chest. 

“He threatened to out me to all of you. And said that if we apprehended him, he had a failsafe in place to make sure everyone found out.” 

Emily’s face crumpled. “Y/N…”

“It’s not that I’m ashamed of who I am,” you whispered. “I’m not. My family knows, my friends know… It’s just that it’s private. I wanted to tell you all on my terms, when I felt ready. And he took that choice away from me.” 

Emily took your trembling hands in hers, and tears welled in your eyes. 

“I love you, Y/N,” Emily said with a sincerity that stilled you. “We all do. You are our family, and I can say with full confidence that this doesn’t change how we feel about you.”

You took a deep breath. “I knew it wouldn’t. I just wanted to control how I told at least one person. How I told you.” 

“Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me,” Emily said. “I can’t tell you how honored I am.” 

“I know we have to tell Penelope,” you said. “So she can try to trace it.” 

Emily shook her head. “We can wait. See if she can get anything from JJ and Reid’s phones; we may not need yours.” 

You grimaced. You didn’t want to hinder the investigation or ask Emily to do the same by keeping this to yourselves. 

“That means a lot to me,” you said earnestly. “But I can’t ask you to do that.” 

“You’re not asking; I’m offering.” Emily’s dark eyes pierced yours. “Just tell me what you want to do.”

“Will you come with me to talk to Penelope? I’d feel better having you there.” 

“Whatever you need,” she assured you. “Is it okay if I give you a hug?” 

You nodded, and it wasn’t until Emily’s arms were around you that you realized how badly you needed some comfort. You sank into her embrace, resting your chin on her shoulder, letting your friend hold you.

She rubbed one hand in circles on your back, and you closed your eyes, the exhaustion of the case catching up with you. You could fall asleep right now. Now that you were safe. 

But there was still work to do, so you pulled away, your cheeks flushed. 

“Thank you,” you said.

You wiped your tears away, suddenly self-conscious when you remembered the rest of your team was just outside. 

As if anticipating your hesitation, Emily asked, “Would it be easier if I brought her in here?”

It was tempting, but you didn’t want to call more attention to yourself.

“No, that’s okay,” you said. “Let’s go to her office.”

Emily didn’t stand until you did, but once you did, she was ready to hold her office door open for you. 

As you walked through the bullpen, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at your teammates. You heard them murmuring—working on the profile, you told yourself—but you held your breath until you were out of sight and knocking on Pen’s door.

“Enter!” She chirped from the other side.

You scanned your badge and the door clicked open, revealing Penelope in front of her wall of monitors—the text messages up on one, another busy tracking the source. 

“Do you have a minute, Pen?” Emily asked.

Penelope whirled around in her chair. “Anything for you, Peaches.” Her eyes widened when she saw you standing beside Emily. “And Y/N! To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“I got a text from the UnSub,” you said, your phone in hand. 

“Have you gotten anything from JJ’s or Reid’s yet?” Emily asked.

Penelope frowned and shook her head. “Not yet; the UnSub is flexing his tech knowledge, but I am better, and I will find him.”

You smiled at your friend’s easy confidence. 

“Can I see?” she asked.

You nodded, wordlessly unlocking the device and handing it over.

You watched as Pen scanned the message. Watched as her mouth opened in shock. When her eyes reconnected with yours, there was fury behind them. 

“I will bury him,” she growled. “How dare he—”

Emily held up a hand. “Needless to say, discretion is important here.” 

Penelope’s eyes widened. “Oh, Y/N, I know I’m not known for secret-keeping, but I would never…” she shook her head. “I’ll never tell a soul.” 

Your heart swelled. “Thank you, Pen. I will tell the team, I’d just prefer to do it on my terms.” 

��Of course,” Penelope said.

“I can take your place with Tara,” Emily offered. “If you want to stay here and work on the profile with Reid and JJ.” 

You shook your head. “That’s not necessary. But thank you.” You looked between Emily and Pen. “Thank you both.” 

“Let’s go make this son of a bitch pay.”

Tag List:

@yena-reyna, @propertyofemilyprentiss, @chaekhan, @obsessedwjill, @mrs-prentiss, @i-lovefandom, @tireddeadgirl, @lez-talk1, @emilyprentiss-ily, @ssablackbird

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[snapscube]

hey penny!! i hope you're doing good :] not sure if you're looking for any feedback right now for midnight snap so if this message is unwarranted then no hard feelings at all <3 maybe it's just me and tbh it's hard for me to tell bc it's probably subjective, but as someone who's particularly sensitive to sound it sometimes feels like your voice gets lost in certain game music in your videos. i've listened both on mobile and on desktop and i think it's worse on desktop, more comfortable on mobile (for some reason). like, i find myself straining to hear you and pretty often i need to pause to take breaks because i get easily overstimulated. it's definitely not sfx that get me, just background music you know??? i especially noticed it in your freddi fish video around the start of the second game, but it's in other videos too like when you played animal crossing. it isn't too bad though tbh, still overall a super cozy series and i'm grateful you're still doing it!! if everything stays the same, i'll still watch it. i'd really love to know what you think and if you can confirm if anyone else has said something like this, i wonder if there's any merit to what i'm saying cause i just wanna help ^^;

i appreciate the feedback! i'll admit i'm still definitely trying to nail down the sound mixing of Midnight Snap. there's a LOT that goes into it between recording environment, VST setups for my live microphone effects, post-processing effects when it makes it to the actual edit timeline, etc. also admittedly this is a genre of content i'm still relatively new to making (never dabbled in asmr or anything) and though it's easy to put out a super long video normally and have people say its good for sleeping as a fun side effect, actually trying to make something FROM THE GROUND UP for relaxation comes with a lot of consideration i'm still not quite specialized in yet haha, especially with how long the breaks have been up to now. none of this is meant to handwave ur issues btw im taking everything into account here, just wanted to explain why its somewhat in flux right now!

my approach for the last few episodes of the show has been to heavily compress the dynamics of the audio, which might contribute to what ur dealing with here. although at the end of the day there's not much i can do to anticipate literally every individual user's listening conditions cause there's gonna be sooo much variance there. i can definitely try to put more focus on maybe separating the heaviest frequences of the voice track vs the game track though. as it stands i tend to cut back on the high frequencies a lot in both cases cause i personally just find higher frequencies a lot more distracting and harsh and to me what ends up sounding soothing is a very smooth and rumbly kind of profile. but of course audio mixing is all about balance so i'll see how i can maybe dial that in a little more distinctly! hopefully as i continue to standardize what editing software i use for the show as well as how it's recorded i can do more to brush out any remaining issues in the sound design :) thanks again!

[angelicglib]

‧₊✩ Christmas Comfort ✩₊‧

[ꜱɪᴍᴏɴ ʀɪʟᴇʏ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

[ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇᴅ]: 25/12/23 (REPOSTED: 28/12/23)

[ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ]: After Johnny's death and a failed mission, Simon returns home to his girlfriend.

[ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ]: 3,252

[ᴛᴡ]: hurt/comfort, angst, a somewhat happy ending (it will never be fully happy without soap I am sorry) possible mw3 spoilers (if you have been living under a rock please avoid)

[ᴀ/ɴ]: This is my first story here, please be kind I beg <3 also very sorry for this but I had the idea and thought it would be quite a bittersweet story for the holiday season !!

THIS IS A REPOST !! I've had few issues with shadowbans and have moved accounts a few times (tumblr thought I was a bot) so, if you would like more stories from me, my new blog is @manicrouge !!

─────────── ∘°❉°∘ ───────────

Christmas this year is going to be tough.

You know it from when you open the door to him on Christmas Eve. 

Time has passed, he hasn’t been home for months and you were starting to convince yourself that it’s going to be years before you ever see him again.

When you were talking on the phone earlier, sometime during the middle of November, he had made a comment that he wasn’t going to come back home until he had made sure he had the pleasure of declaring that the enemy that had murdered his best friend was officially gone for good. While your chest tightened at his comment, you had nodded along and assured him that they would catch Makarov eventually; there were only so many places one man could hide before he’d revert back to familiar ground. 

You feared the same for Simon at that moment. In fact, even with him home safe, you still do.  

Of course, you would never say that to his face.

Despite his capability in combat, however, you often find yourself awake at night wondering just how capable he was when it came to processing and dealing with loss. Had he done what you assume he has done, he was most likely going to run from it instead of addressing it. Problems will build up and up until they came tumbling down. It’s a simple thought to construct during the late nights you have been spending alone since the news of what had happened to Johnny had found its way to you. Just as such a thought is easy to construct, you find that another one comes to you quicker than the former: where would Simon be when the building he’d constructed over the years fell to pieces? 

There were only so many places he man could hide before he’d refer back to familiar ground. Even if said ground was crumbling around him. Maybe in his misery, he would find solace in falling to his doom with the chunks of shattered earth surrounding him.

If that assessment is wrong, it doesn't matter; your brain has decided it before your heart even gets a say.

You have very little to go off of concerning with how he dealt with loss, the occasional comment about his mum was enough for you to know that he wasn’t the type to completely forget about a loved one. 

He's vague about his past. The less said about it the better. 

‘You keep pawing an’ clawing at my brain like a damn puppy,’ he said, trailing his hands through your hair. You were guilty, for sure you were. Curiosity was sure to be the death of you in that regard. He’d let small facts slip on occasion, although, you knew his accidental slip ups were most definitely intention. 

Of course, Simon Riley was no fool.

’Just tell me something,’ you begged, ‘like… I don’t know, what was your favourite food to eat at Christmas when you were younger? Ooo, I bet it was something like liquorice. You’d so make your nan pissed by robbing all the good shit out of the sweet tin.’ You laughed at the thought of a tiny Simon Riley climbing on top of a chair, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he attempted to snatch the sweet, sweet treat of liquorice. 

‘Are you fuckin’ kidding me?’ he scoffed, ‘actin’ like I’m an old man doll,’ he snorted, ‘stop tryin’ to pester me f’r memories you have no business viewing.’

‘Is it illegal to be curious now?’ you asked with a playful smile. It was silent for a moment, and you lifted your head in an attempt to find his eyes in the darkness.

‘Yes, it is,’ he said, ‘you don’t wanna know me from the past, love,’ he huffed, ‘doesn’t matter now.’

‘You won’t even tell me what your favourite food was during Christmas?’ 

‘No,’ he reverted back to the same Simon you had seen when Johnny had been talking his ear off during the rare nights out you had had with 141. ’Now go t’ sleep, gonna be tired in the morning if you keep rambling on. My ears are burning with ya, doll,’ he teased, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you firmly against his chest. 

Despite everything telling you to pull away from him, you maintained your closeness, the warmth of him far too appetising to refuse. Exhaling deeply, you rested your head against the pillow, staring straight at the wall in front of you. Your heart hurt at the very thought that he cared so little about his past that he fought to keep everything from his earlier life away from you. Even the smallest things. Of course, you would never had pried him, only the few passing comments in hopes for him to slip up as he had done a few times before. 

Another hard sigh escaped you as you close your eyes. He shifted behind you, resting his head against your shoulder. You thought nothing of his sudden movement; it wasn’t uncommon for him to do so while you were sharing a bed together. Only, he turned his head, his breath ghosting your ear. Inhaling, he swallowed hard. ‘Mum used to make us roast dinners,’ he whispered, ‘used to always slap my hand away whenever she was cooking cause I used to always rob the pigs-in-blankets while she was still getting dinner ready.’

A small laugh passed your lips as you turned in his hold, placing your hand against his cheek with a cheeky grin. He stares back, blue gaze gutting through the darkness, slicing your soul to pieces.  ‘Now, will y’ stop huffin’ and puffing and just go to sleep?’ He asked, placing his hand over yours. 

‘Soundly, Lt.’

Even behind the mask, you could sense the sadness, the loss. A flurry of emotions hits you when you first see him after what has happened. What can you say to him? Anything other than I’m sorry seems to be an insult to him and to the memory of the man that is sure to haunt him.

The mask hides his face, but it never hid his eyes, his tired and war-weary eyes. It's a brutal sight to see the man who had put the fear of God through you when you had first met reduced to this crushed soul. 

‘Simon,’ you say after a while of the pair of you just standing there, staring at each other. For a brief moment, it felt as though you had opened the door to a stranger instead of your boyfriend. Lifting his head, his Adams apple bobs beneath his balaclava as he steps forward. You take a step back, letting go of the edge of the door. Still, he doesn't speak, only standing there, observing you. ‘I thought you said you weren’t coming home until—‘

‘Don’t wanna talk about it,’ he answers, closing the door behind him.

His clothes are branded with the stench of war, and you take note of his bloodshot eyes. Has he been crying? You thought it impossible for such to be the case, he’d do no such thing. But, when he shakily inhales, grabbing the edge of his balaclava, your stomach dropped.

‘Place looks nice,’ he says, though his eyes don't leave you, ripping his mask from off of his face, shoving it into of his cargo pants. His words were shaky despite the stoic expression on his face. ‘You been alright?’

You look at him with wide eyes. ‘I- uh- yeah, yeah, just sorting out last minute things for Christmas,’ you answer, ‘how about you go and get a shower, get changed into some fresh clothes? I’ll make you something to eat—‘

‘Not hungry,’ he answers frankly, ‘appreciate the offer, doll, but I think I’m just gonna go straight to bed,’ he says. All the moisture in your mouth disappears and you’re forced to swallow a dry mouthful of air as you look up at him. 

‘Right,’ you nod, ‘I- I’ll be up right after you, just gonna turn everything off down here,’ you say.

He doesn’t answer you after that, dropping his duffle bag down on the ground by the front door as he traipses up the wooden steps of your home. The garland wrapped around the bannister winks at you as you watch Simon walk up the stairs, almost mocking you for ever think it was a good idea to decorate.

The entirety of your house is wrapped like a Christmas present, reds, greens, colourful lights- everything. Whether it was the right thing to decorate or not, you choose not to focus on it too much as you rush around the house, switching off the decorations and the lights, leaving the washing you had been doing on the counter in the kitchen. 

All of it can wait. But he can’t. 

So, with such a thought in mind, you busy yourself with your plan. What is included in that plan can be decided as you’re walking through the house, back to the staircase you have just seen your poor boyfriend walking up.

Jogging up each step, you decide that ultimately, everything that has happened in the past few months with be something he will not be willing to discuss with you; he made it clear when he walked through the door. Don’t push him on it.

When your foot hits the last step, you nod to yourself as you consider what you would do if he did want to talk to you about it. If he wants to talk to you about it, then you rejoice in his openness. But it isn’t necessary for him to have your undying support. No matter what he decides, ultimately, your heart is never going to fail on him. 

Before heading into your bedroom, you gulp when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. Pulling it out of your pocket, your eyes scan over the message, a shallow exhale escaping your lips. 

Mum &lt;3: Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. made sure to grab extra pigs-in-blankets incase Simon decides to appear sometime. Love you xx

Begrudgingly, you stare down at the message before looking at the bedroom door. From beyond it, you can hear the running water in the shower and all you can think about is him. So, with a deep breath, you look back down at your phone and begin to type. 

From ‘me’: Slight change of plans but I don’t think we’re going to be able to make it there tomorrow. Simon’s just got home and he’s not good. Don’t think socialising is what he needs right now. Sorry, I love you xx

Choosing has never been easy, yet, when you pushed open the bedroom door and saw his clothes sitting on the bed the pair of you share, you decide that that choice was the easiest one you have ever made in your life. It isn’t a sacrifice when it is necessary. At least, not when it comes to Simon at least. 

--

‘I’m not going home tomorrow,’ you tell him when he walks out of the bathroom. Part of you feels bad for bombarding him with something as soon as he walks out, but the affirming text from your mother causes your heart to swell, and when you see him again, it bursts. His hair is damp and he pulls his face out of the towel with a surprised look. His scarred cheeks are branded with a subtle red tinge from the heat exuding from the bathroom. The heat works well to melt his features just enough for him to mould them into a dissatisfied sneer. ‘I don’t wanna fight you on this, Si.’

‘You can’t cancel on your family,’ he says, approaching his dresser. ‘Not right. I don’t want you to do that for me,’ he continues, grabbing a t-shirt, pulling it over his head. ‘Go spend time with them, am fine here.’ 

‘I already told my mum,’ you say, ‘she’s fine with it,’ you quickly reassure, far too aware that he very well may be a ticking time bomb.

Oddly, you request of not fighting on it seemingly works as he looks over his shoulder at you. There is simply no fight left in Simon Riley anymore, you conclude it from the way he shrinks as he exhales, padding up to the bed. It was as though he had left the house as a grenade left the hands of a soldier. Upon his return, the body of what made him him: his danger, his determination, and his strength had all been lost and you find he has been reduced to the pin pulled from the grenade. 

Looking up at him, you find that it is up to you if you’re going to discard it or keep it as a keepsake.

Pulling the edge of the duvet, you pat the side of the mattress, ‘c’mon,’ you say gently. He doesn’t wait to climb into bed beside you, resting his weary head against the pillow. It’s as though someone is pressing down on his chest as he heaves a sound unlike anything you have ever heard. Exhaustion was clear, but grief was easier to identify in his eyes. Leaning over, you turn the lamp on your beside off, trying your attention to him, lying on his side. 

There’s nothing to say. Not to him, not for him, not for yourself. You just lay there and stare at him hoping something will come to you. Anything said will be a bittersweet lullaby, you’re convinced. Nothing is going to put him to sleep. ‘Your minds running; faster than mine, sweetheart,’ he says. His eyes are closed when you look at his face. ‘Don’t want you doin’ stupid things ‘cause of me.’

‘Nothing is stupid when it comes to you, Si’,’ you weakly state.

At this point, you heart is racing, your tongue tangled as you contemplate every single word on the edge of your tongue. ‘Mum said she’ll bring us dinner tomorrow,’ you say with a weak smile, debating on whether or not you should spoil the surprise. ‘We can eat it and watch something… if you want to.’

‘What’s she bringing,’ he asks.

‘A roast,’ you answer, ‘it is Christmas after all.’

He’s quiet for a while, almost as though he doesn’t even want to think about what day it is. December 24th. Christmas Eve. You’re unsure how exactly the holidays work in 141, only noting that he had been away a few times during Christmas. Oddly, this is one of the first ones he’s home with you. His second Christmas since knowing Johnny that he isn’t with him. Your heart weakens at the realisation, your brain cursing you with the knowledge of something so agonising.

They had spent Christmas together.

And now they won’t and never will and it isn’t just because of the distance between Manchester and Scotland.

Rather, it’s because of the distance between this life and the next.

Your eyes well with tears and you close them. Your heart hurts for the man lying in front of you, and when you hear him clear his throat, you find it difficult to contain your own sorrow. ‘Doesn’t feel like Christmas,’ he tells you, his voice trembling as he does. ‘Haven’t slept at all since ‘cause I can’t stop thinking about him just… lyin’ there,’ his throat tightens and his tone grows pitchy as he inhales deeply, swallowing hard. ‘I shoulda done something, I should’ve been there f’r him.’ 

He’s crying at that point, but not sobbing. In fact, you only know he's crying because, when you place your hand against his cheek and the pad of your thumb wiped away a tear that falls past his eye. ‘You were,’ you choke out, ‘even in death, you were loyal to him, Si’, don’t you dare go cursing your own name for something you were not responsible for,’ you demand. ‘You’ll get him.’

‘We’re fallin’ apart without him,’ Simon sniffles, ‘bet he’s sitting up there pissin’ himself seeing me like this,’ he utters. The pair of you share a laugh at the thought and you move close to him. ‘I just… I told myself after everything that happened to mum and Tommy, I wouldn’t feel anything ‘cause that fucked me up, but then I met Johnny a- and I met you.’

You hold your breath. 

‘Simon—‘

‘And what if I can’t keep you safe? I’ve failed at it so much and that fucking pricks got me doubting myself now—‘

‘Shut up,’ you firmly say, ‘I don’t wanna hear it, Si’,’ you utter, ‘and neither would Johnny.’

You press your thumb against his cheek, ‘doubt is a killer, and it’s not me who you’re not gonna be able to protect if you keep thinking the way you are, it’s yourself,’ you continue, licking your dry lips, ‘and… and if you die, then who’s gonna steal the pigs-and-blankets on Christmas Day?’ 

Whether it was time for humour or not, you’re unsure. But, as you thinking for a moment, you recall the tales told to you by Simon during his time away, particularly his time with the Shadows. 

Two goldfish are in a tank… 

‘You still remember that?’ he asks eventually. You feel the muscles contort in his face as he smiles at you. 

‘Always,’ you respond, ‘mums got them with the dinner tomorrow ‘cause I asked her too… said she got extra incase you planned on robbing any of them.’ You feel bad telling him such information knowing that you had chosen to cancel the holiday. If anything, you’re worried about the guilt you’re causing him by rambling on about the stupid fucking pigs-in-blankets. ‘My point is Si’,’ you take a deep breath, ‘I need you here with me so you can fulfil your duty.’

He shifts and pulls you closer, wrapping his arm around your waist, pressing his face into the nape of your neck. Your hand brushes through his hair, melting in his arms as his hot breath fans against your neck. ‘Wanna see your family tomorrow,’ he says, ‘I’ll go with you.’

‘Are you sure—‘

‘’Ave been stuck in my mind for nearly two months,’ he confesses, pulling away from your neck. ‘Fighting with myself over everything, I’ve hardly spoken to Price or Gaz,' he says. You press your lips together, the thought of him being alone nauseating. ‘Be a waste of money as well if I didn’t try pinching the food your mums made, wouldn’t it?’ 

You feel him smile as he presses his face back against your neck, his grip on you so tight its almost painful. But you relent, allowing him to have the comfort he so deserves. Resting your head above his, you close your. Whatever awaited you in the future can wait, you conclude.

‘I proud of you,’ you whisper, pressing a kiss onto his head. 'Never gonna let you doubt yourself ever again, not on my watch,' you continue, 'now sleep. We can talk more when you're ready.'

He smiles again.

'I know I can sleep soundly now,' he utters against your skin, 'got you beside me.'

With that, the pair of you fall into silence. You don't sleep, not until you feel his breathing steady against you skin, the subtle rise of his chest as he keeps his arms around you. You keep running you fingers through his hair before eventually, you find your eyes growing heavy and you drift off.

─────────── ∘°❉°∘ ───────────

[bestworstcase]

Grimm behavior reassessment thought: y'know that sister training session called on account of Rather Tanky Ursa? Could Ruby & Yang have avoided that fight if they'd known to treat the big lug like careful hikers would an 'ordinary' bear encounter? There were a few 'pause & rear/roar' moments on its part which I guess *could* be read as 'hey stop that' or 'my turf, leave'.

yang’s character short has always interested me bc the ursa was there the whole time they were sparring.

like. yang throws a punch, ruby panic-flies into the bushes and then passes out:

on this screenshot i’ve marked ruby’s approximate path in red and circled the clump of bushes the ursa emerges from (using the logs laid around the perimeter as markers):

note the very dense foliage around the grimm; he’s completely hidden. yang gets concerned when ruby doesn’t respond, startles when she hears a twig snap in the area circled in yellow, this is what she sees:

and then he stands up:

which. ok. he’s a really big guy. there is no way he crept up on them and got that close before making a noticeable sound, and most grimm behave like pursuit predators besides—they wander around in the open and give chase when they come across prey. (although there are exceptions: the pack of apathy at brunswick drag the lamp around a corner and go dark to lie in wait, for example.)

the point is, he’s there, but yang can’t see him until his eyes illuminate because he’s lying down in the bushes. his markings are also ‘off’ and only begin to glow as he stands up.

we’ve seen grimm Do That a couple times:

and we’ve also seen in v8 that just because there don’t seem to be any grimm nearby doesn’t mean they aren’t there:

<- same thing happens in the mine. dozens of centinels pop out of the ground when the geist signals for them to screen his retreat deeper into the mine. which suggests that grimm may spend a lot of time… not hunting. unseen, hidden just under the surface or in the densest thickets, crevices, whatever. and no one knows because when grimm aren’t on the hunt they don’t attack unless provoked.

the big guy was just There! taking a nap! and he didn’t aggro until yang got spooked by ruby’s silence.

he also doesn’t seem to be all that interested in attacking after his initial charge and swipe; he knocks yang across the clearing and then turns away, until yang shoots him again:

i do think it’s really interesting that WOR: grimm implies that grimm are most strongly drawn by violence, not negativity per se: “what is perhaps even more unsettling is the basis of their attraction,” and the accompanying image is

a person killing another person with a rock.

i think—much more so than real animals—grimm are kind of emotional mirrors, in that they reflect the energy they’re shown. one thing that stands out to me about both salem and cinder is that while there is obviously an element of magic or kinship or both behind their influence over the grimm, from both of them we see these occasional moments of tenderness toward the grimm; cinder’s very gentle and soothing “shh, this is your home now” when she calms the wyvern, and the way salem softens when she caresses the goliath’s face in the v6 stinger:

and i wonder if there isn’t a meaningful correlation there. the two characters in the story who demonstrably have the ability to communicate and work with grimm are also the two characters who, in private moments when no one else is around to see, choose to be gentle with these creatures. is salem able to command grimm the way she does by magical compulsion or is she their leader, as raven put it, whom they follow because she’s kind to them and protects them.

[selfishdoll]

❛anything for you...❜ ━━ ft. nanami kento | resident evil inspired au.

⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 SUMMARY. ━━ you, the precious daughter of an important scientist are rescued by the gentlemanly government agent, nanami kento. you’re a mission, nothing more.. right? (word count: 5248)

⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 CONTENT WARNING. ━━ messy plot i’m so sorry | reader is 22 & nanami is like 24 | resident evil ish | mentions of dead bodies & blood | angst if you squint | ooc! nanami (he’s still gentleman like he’s just stern cause reader is hardheaded asf) | pet names | oral sex (f. receiving) | multiple orgasms | etc. if i forgot something let me know.

⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 NOTE. ━━ this got much longer then i wanted it to, so the smut is towards the end— i’m sorry !! also excuses typos & grammar mistakes please.

“Nanami…. Nanami, my legs hurt.” The words crawled from your mouth in a long, annoying drawl— dragging behind the man that still walked tall and strong ahead of you. The two of you had seemed to walk for hours, clothes stained in disgusting substances that came from the bloodthirsty freaks that rushed towards you the second you entered their milky sights. You were tired, hungry, and felt disgusting. Your favorite flare jeans and pink top were ruined and you were sure the short, bohemian braids you had were caked with grime.

“My legs hurt!” You called again after the man’s silence, watching his shoulders fall in a sigh.

“Just a few more miles, we need to find somewhere to rest.”

You pouted, bringing your arms close. You definitely weren’t suited for this, this whole; staying alive while running away from the undead thing. You were fully prepared to drink yourself to death back at your hotel room, but unfortunately; fate had different plans.

You had to admit, it was courageous the way Nanami Kento burst into your room, shutting and securing the door behind him. With one glance to you he was mumbling something into the receiver situated in his ear, walking over and kneeling before you. In your drunken state he was carefully touching you, searching for injuries and asking if you felt okay. If you could stand, he was doting for a government agent.

After that you were stuck with him, or was he stuck with you? Either way, your father — the scientist that refused to replicate a cure unless his dear daughter was rescued — gave you explicit instructions to stay at his side at all, times. Doesn’t matter if you had to piss, shit, or change— you were to stay in his sight no matter what.

Overall, you would give your Osaka trip a solid two out of ten.

You groaned a bit as your face came in contact with his strong back, hurriedly placing a hand over your aching nose. “What’s wr—“ You moved around to see infront of your path, only for your heart to drop. There were three undead walking aimlessly between the wrecked cars, bumping into them on account of their lost senses. The smell was disgusting, let alone the way blood trickled from their mouths and other body parts. The way a human body still stood despite several bullet wounds in its chest was.. disturbing to you.

Your fingers came to clutch Nanami’s shirt, the man reaching an arm back as if to cover you. Whilst the other was placed on his hip, right where his pistol remained. “They haven’t seen us.. yet.” The man murmured, wary of being heard. His eyes peered around, searching for a way or some path— you quickly doing the same, fingers still crumbling his stained dress shirt.

Finally his body turned, glancing at you. “We’ll have to go around that building..”

“What? Nanami you have a gun! Just aim right—“

“I rather not risk alerting more infected nearby.” He spoke, watching you carefully. You sucked your teeth, arms crossed but nodding. That did make sense, you have to admit. No wonder you were the mission and he was the agent.

Nanami straightened his body, reaching for your wrist gently. “Come on.” He spoke, leading you slowly. With each step his and your eyes were darting in front of you and back to the three infected still walking around aimlessly. You flinched a little as your foot pressed against something far too squishy, far too wet— your hand pressing against your mouth to cover your small disgusted squeal.

A squeeze to your wrist quickly diverted your attention, spotting Nanami turned to you with a serious expression. “Focus on me, (Y/N).. It’s alright.” You slowly nodded at his words, coming even closer to his form as you continued towards and soon around the building.

Luckily there wasn’t any infected nearby, Nanami releasing your wrist once the danger was gone. Despite this the man was still wary, looking around every so often to assure nothing was sneaking up on you. You kept your arms wrapped tight around yourself, copying Nanami’s movements.

Though, your head began to hurt a little from the constant back and forth.

You turned forward, lips pressed together before speeding up to walk beside him. “So.. did you ever imagine this would happen? You know.. some type of apocalypse?”

Nanami glanced at you for a moment before his gaze moved forward, a soft breath escaping him. “No.” He spoke simply, continuing his powerful strides that you struggled to keep up with. You nodded slowly, glancing down for a split moment whilst simply caressing your skin.

“Ever thought you’d have to save a scientist’s drunk daughter?”

Despite how little it was, a breath of amusement escaped the man, shaking his head. “No.” He answered again. You gave a weak smile, arms falling to your sides shortly after.

“Do you.. regret saving me?”

No more words were spoken for a few moments, the only sound being your shoes pressing into the Earth below. You took this badly, heart beating hard against your chest as your teeth tugged onto your bottom lip. You’ve always spoke too much for your own good, a trait you’ve hated since it developed. Fingers twitched nervously, eyes dancing about the ground as if suddenly interested in the blood stained pavement.

Your eyes peeled away, however— the moment you heard Nanami release a breath.

“No.. and it’s not because I was assigned to rescue you.”

His words caused confusion to bloom within you, head tilting to glance at his expressionless face. You didn’t know this man, his goals or what he did before he came to save you. For all you know he could be lying.. possibly falsifying your father’s voice or something crazy. Anything for some cash. Yet his words, you could tell the man was genuine; simply from his tone and posture, he meant it.

“Why?.. You have no obligation to me.” A cynical chuckle escaped you, glancing down at your feet once more. “I doubt anyone would give you any grief if you left me on the side of the road.”

You flinched as his footsteps came to a sharp halt, body turning to face you. His gaze settled onto your features, a hardened stare that caused you to look away once it became too much. Finally, Nanami spoke; “If you’re looking for me to call you useless or a mistake, I will not. You are neither of those and thinking of yourself as such is counterproductive.” Nanami stepped closer, causing your breath to hitch and eyes to widen. “We will continue down this path, together— until I bring your father his daughter back in one piece.” His eyes softened for a split second, head tilted to the side as he took you in. “Okay?”

You slowly nodded, gulping thickly the moment his eyebrows rose. “Okay.” You murmured, watching him nod back and turn forward once more. Your shoulders fell, hand pressed against your chest to feel your rapid heartbeat. For the first time in days, a little genuine smile lifted your lips.

You two continued to walk for what it seemed like hours, taking short breaks between buildings; you seated on some random trash can or barrel whilst he stood against the wall— glancing to assure nothing popped out.

As the sunset the two of you ended up in a neighborhood, your eyes focusing on the houses; a small grimace taking over your features. The crashed cars, the bloody bikes.. it was all too much. You could just imagine the way families rushed to get away, only to not make it farther then their doorstep.

You quickly shook your head, deciding such thoughts will only depress you further. And whilst attempting to pull those thoughts from your mind, a single raindrop fell onto your skull.

Your head turned to the sky, watching as the clouds darkened and more rain began to fall. You groaned softly, hand rising as if to cover the pouring water. Which of course, proved useless.

“Nanami,” You called, catching up to place a hand to his back. “We have to find somewhere to stay, this rain will make it harder to see.” You heard a soft grunt above the rain, watching his wet head turn back and forth in search of secure shelter. Your tongue clicked however, annoyed by how long the search was taking.

You looked around, soon lifting your hand towards a small white house that looked untouched. “There!” You huffed, legs moving before the man could reply. You made your way over, Nanami on your heels; sighing once you made it on the porch, covered by the rain. When you went for the doorknob, Nanami’s hand covered your own— causing your eyes to snap over to his face.

“Don’t run off like that again.” He spoke, glancing down at you seriously. You slowly nodded, hand loosening from the doorknob as the man came to stand in front of you. With a deep breath he turned it, pleasantly surprised it was unlocked.

And another reason Nanami wished to go first.

Lifting his flashlight, the man shined it inside the house; scanning the area for any sign of danger. Despite how untouched it looked from outside, it was certainly different in the actual house. Dried blood was caked on the hard wood floors, decorative carpet upturned and a mess whilst the couches were angled oddly. A struggle had clearly happened.

You clung to Nanami as you passed through the threshold, the man closing and locking the door behind you. He breathed a bit, turning to you whilst passing you the flashlight. “The living room looks secure, but I’ll check the back rooms.”

“What, alone!?” You hissed softly, reaching for him the moment he turned to leave. “We have to stick together.”

Nanami carefully grabbed the hand holding him, lifting it away as he looked at you gently. “It’ll be quick, I promise. Just sit on the couch and scream if you need me.” He coaxed you slowly towards said furniture, watching you sink into the surprisingly soft cushion. Noting your discouraged expression the man gave a gentle smile, hand rising to squeezes your shoulder. “It’ll be alright (Y/N).”

You nodded slowly, watching as he grasped a much smaller flashlight from his pocket, heading towards the back of the house. You turned forward, standing from the couch and walking towards the fireplace against the wall. The bright light shined on the framed pictures, pretty decor, and knick knacks lining the top of it. Your eyes focused on the little family portrait, sighing softly. You imagined they got out, all of them; and they were somewhere safe, together.

But, of course, that was wishful thinking. There was no way they survived.

Your hands curled around the frame, pushing it facedown. You moved on towards the dining room, gaze zoning in the candles settled in the middle of the red decorative cover. You picked one up, hurriedly looking around and smiling the moment you found a lighter. Placing the flashlight on the table, you picked the last three candles and lighter, heading back to the couch.

You placed the candles onto the coffee table while sitting down, lighting them one by one. They weren’t too bright but it was enough, definitely better then the flashlight.

Once you heard heavy footsteps heading in your direction you turned, smiling up at the man who approached the couch. Your eyes zoned in at the pile of sheets and blankets, the man placing it on the cushion beside you. Once done he hooked a finger behind him,

“The first bathroom’s water is working. You could probably wash up.”

A shower! The way your eyes sparkled you would have thought he said a helicopter was coming to grab the two of you. But no, this was much better. The thought of ridding yourself of three day grime and smell was enough to nearly bring tears to your eyes. You didn’t care if you had to pull dirty clothes the following morning, you just wanted to feel a little clean.

You hopped to your feet, following the man once he turned to the back of the house. Approaching the bathroom, you pushed the door opened, sighing heavily and glancing around. There wasn’t much, a simple half opened bottle of body wash and a towel. But, it was enough.

“I’ll make some food for when you come out. Don’t take too long.”

“Okay!”

Despite his words you spent a good thirty minutes under the water. You didn’t even care if it was cold, it just felt so good washing it all away. The dirt, the smell, and much more. You nearly shed a tear, given this was the only peace you’ve felt in days. After scrubbing your body and rinsing for about the fourth time, you shut the water off, exiting the tub and wrapping the towel right around your body. You grabbed your pile of clothes, heading out of the bathroom and towards the living room.

Nanami turned the moment he heard your footsteps, eyes quickly falling to the ground when he noticed your state. “Your food.. it’s, right here.” He spoke, hearing you walk around — dropping your dirty clothes in a corner along the way — sitting on the cushion beside him.

“Thank you.” It wasn’t much, a simple plate of rice, beans, and unidentifiable meat. But, you were grateful. You grabbed the plate, scooping some in your spoon and taking a bite. It wasn’t that good, the rice a little undercooked and meat having little flavor. But again, you were grateful.

Nanami watched as you ate, coaxing you to slow down so you didn’t choke; a little smile tugging his lips when you didn’t listen, resulting in a few coughs to escape you. He grabbed a water bottle near by, passing it to you so you could take a few sips. During this the man stood, wiping his pants.

“I’ll go take a shower now, you should try to get some sleep. Also— I think the couch pulls out.”

You gave a small okay, watching as he walked around the couch towards the bathroom. You placed your water bottle down, leaning against the couch and gliding your hand across your towel covered stomach. A small sigh escaped you, lips curled. For once, you could actually get some nice sleep.

No leaning against dirty walls, the rain drowned out whatever groaning infected were nearby, and you were sure the couch would be nice and plush.

Rising from your seat, you pushed the coffee table closer to the fire place, turning to grab the cushions and toss them away from you. Your eyes zoned in at the bar, pulling it— turning the couch into a pullout with some effort. “Finally.” You breathed, walking over to the pile put to the side, grabbing a sheet and flinging it over the bed.

Once satisfied you grabbed a blanket, — leaving a sheet for Nanami — placing it on the bed. You glanced down at your attire for a moment before a small screw it, went through your mind; pulling your towel off and letting it bundle on the floor. Crawling onto the bed, you pulled the blanket over your body.

Using your arms as a makeshift pillow, you sighed a bit, eyes closing and sinking into the mattress. Maybe you could convince Nanami to stay for another day. You could probably find a vehicle amongst the many houses. More supplies? These thoughts lulled you to sleep, exhaustion covering your body as darkness took over your vision.

You don’t know what time it was when you woke up, or why you woke up exactly. You planned to sleep the entire night but your body unfortunately had different plans. Tugging your blanket closer to your body, you turned; spotting the candles still lit, wax collecting on the coffee table. Your gaze carried, jumping a little when you spot Nanami rested in the loveseat, chest uncovered with a sheet tied loosely around his waist.

That wasn’t the problem, his dark eyes boring into your own was.

“Have you been awake this whole time?”

Nanami seemed to snap out of his trance, adjusting in the seat as he nodded slowly. You pursed your lips a bit, sitting up whilst pressing the blanket against your chest. “You could have joined me here. I doubt the seat is comfortable.”

“That would be.. inappropriate.”

“How so?”

Nanami shook his head, glancing away from you as he again— adjusted himself in that damned seat. You bit the inside of your cheek, landing back against the bed with a huff. “There’s no way you can effectively protect me without sleep, Nanami. You’ll be dragging like those walking corpses outside.”

Your words lingered in the air for a moment, a silence covering the room before you heard a deep sigh escape the man. He lifted his body from the chair, waltzing over to you. You smiled a bit, scooting away to give him some room, feeling the mattress sink in beside you as he laid down.

You turned to face him, fingers clutching your blanket as you took in his form. You didn’t want to admit was a delightful sight, the man sculpted nicely; clearly a disciplined individual. Your gaze lowered, shamelessly tracing his v-line peeking out from under the thin sheets. Luckily his eyes were closed, or else you would be embarrassed.

“I can’t sleep with you staring at me, (Y/N).”

You flinched, watching his eyes blink open and stare at you. “Sorry.” You murmured, gripping the blanket a little more. A silence passed between the two of you, simply laying there and glancing at each other.

You finally broke the silence, “You know.. this is kind of romantic.” You watched him lift a thin eyebrow, feeling your chest pound and cheeks warm. “The candles, the laying together..”

Nanami sucked in a breath, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Yes, and the undead walking outside adds a nice touch.”

“Exactly!” You spoke, a soft giggle escaping you shortly after. You leaned your cheek against the back of your hand, smiling sweetly at the man. The warmth in your face traveled to your stomach as he continued to stare at you, discreetly stealing gazes to your covered form. “I think.. if we met on different circumstances, I would have loved to go on an actual date with you.”

The man blinked in surprise, eyes widening just a bit. You wondered if you made him uncomfortable, given he stiffened and quickly glanced away from you. You opened your mouth to apologize, only for the man to cut you off;

“I would have loved to take you out on one.”

You felt the warmth within you grow hotter, teeth pressing down against your bottom lip. Your eyes fell to his arm, reaching over; gasping as the man rose to grasp your hand. The distant between you shortened as Nanami drew closer, your body sweltering at this point.

“Nanami..”

“Kento.. call me Kento.” He breathed, leaning to plant his lips against yours in an experimental kiss. The moment you didn’t pull away he was all in, hand releasing your wrist to instead glide up your exposed arm to the back of your neck, collecting it and tilting you how he liked. Your hand clung to his arm, breathing softly as the kiss deepened.

You found yourself turning onto your back, the man hovering above you, large frame covering you. The kiss continued, you gasping softly the moment his tongue entered your mouth; delicately playing and sucking at your own wet muscle. Your hips rose, feeling him through the thin sheet still wrapped loosely around his waist. The man groaned in response to this, hand sliding around to gently hold your throat.

Pulling away, Kento glanced down at you, forehead pressed against you. “I shouldn’t..” Turmoil warped the man, struggling. He wanted nothing more to kiss you again, to make you feel better then you have in the past few days. And yet, he knew this was wrong. You were his mission, someone he had to protect, nothing more. Growing attached.. wanting more, would prove disastrous.

But, even as the reasonable thoughts entered his mind, they faded the moment he looked at you. Your lips pressed together, eyes shining up at him, waiting ever so patiently for his next more. Your warm hands were placed on his arms, gripping them as if afraid to let go. Nanami struggled, he did— feeling himself ready to lift away from you.

Unfortunately, a soft, sweet “Kento” escaped your plump lips, rendering the logical side of his brain useless. Without thinking he was leaning down again, planting his lips against yours harsher then before. The action caused a soft moan to escape your throat, nails digging into his skin whilst bliss covered your body.

Lips moving, hands moving; his fingers curling on the edge of your blanket, slowly tugging it down your form to reveal your naked body to him. Kento pulled back, a glossy string connecting your lips together as his eyes cascaded down your form.

Your face flushed, reaching to grab his cheek. “Don’t stare so much..” You murmured, gasping as his hand ghosted down your body, fingers sinking into your hip.

“Why not? Every inch of you deserves to be appreciated.” The man breathed, leaning back on his hunches, hands faltering to your thighs and spreading them to wrap around his waist. “You’re beautiful.. I thought so the moment I saw you in that hotel room.”

You shook your head with a small smile, glancing up at him. “When I was drunk and obnoxious?”

Nanami smiled at you, hand squeezing the inside of your thigh. “Yes.” He confirmed softly, leaning down to press a kiss to your collarbone. The feathery affection trailed down your heated skin, arousing soft breaths and gasps to escape you. Kento’s lips found your right nipple, sucking gently, pushing closer when you jumped.

The pleasure trickled down between your thighs, his hand grasping your absent breast. His thumb pressed against your hardened nipple, tweaking it between his fingers all while continuing to suck and tongue the other. Your hips rose in search of friction, which Nanami rewarded, pressing a thigh between your legs for you to grind on.

Your eyes pinched close, melting into the bed as your hands gripped at his hair. As good as that felt you wanted, needed more. You ground against his thigh, fingers slipping through his previously washed hair. “Kento, please..”

He pulled away from your chest with a soft pop, all while his fingers continued to move on the other. “Use your words, princess. What do you want?”

“More please— fuck..” You hissed softly as his thigh pressed right up against your center, gripping him even closer. “Wanna feel you, Ken. I need you so bad.” You whimpered, glancing up at the man.

Kento swore softly, taking in your beautiful expression. You were so open, laid out for him perfectly and begging for him. Such an image got him hard, tip leaking with excitement. He released your chest, dragging his kisses lower and lower until he met your mound.

Despite how eager he was to give you what you craved, he refused to leave you unprepared. The thought of hurting you outweighed his lust greatly.

So, the man used two thick fingers to spread you open, tongue gliding across your little bud. The action caused a gasp to fall from your lips, thighs threatening to close as he continued the pleasurable treatment, rubbing and sucking your clit raw. Your hands gripped at his hair tightly, rising your hips to push your pussy into his face more, shamelessly moving your hips.

Nanami enjoyed it all, hands falling to your ass to grip, face flush against your heat. His tongue lapped up your arousal, dragging his tongue in places that made you see stars. The moment you felt two fingers prodding at your wet entrance however, you were lost; crying out as the thick digits sunk into you.

He curled them, pushing up against your velvety walls and hitting a sweet spot that made stars collect in your eyes. Desperately, your hips shook, moans rising in pitch as you felt your stomach clench from the pleasure. “Kento.. ah—“ You cried out, feeling his lips wrap around your hard clit and suck, harshly.

Little tears threatened to spill over, legs closing around his head as a string of moans escaped you. Moments passed before you came, clamping down on his fingers and painting his face with your mess. Nanami’s fingers continued to move through your high, wrist flexing with each push and pull inside your sweet cunt.

Your legs shook, back arching as a soft overstimulated cry escaped you. “Mm— I can’t..”

Nanami pulled away from your clit, thumb quickly replacing his lips. His fingers scissored inside you, stretching and prepping you carefully. “I know you can, almost there pretty..” The man mused, pace quickening, ignoring your smaller fingers clinging to his wrist. The soft squelches of your wet cunt would have embarrassed you if you didn’t feel so good, head pressed against the bed as melodic moans escaped you.

A few more thrusts of his fingers passed before you came again, tainting his digits in your mess. Only this time he removed them, hand rising to lick off his arousal as if your taste was a delicacy. To him, it was, having half a mind to dive back between your legs for more.

Instead, Nanami hovered above your body, forearm pressed above your head whilst his forehead rested against yours own. He warmed the moment your hands dragged to his shoulders, watching your eyebrows push together and a small whine escape you. He smiled at you, leaning down to kiss your lips, whilst his hand leaned down, tugging the thin sheet off his body.

Your legs rose to hang loosely on his hips, gasping as you felt his shaft glide through your folds. As you continued to kiss the man continued to rub himself against your pussy, coating himself in your arousal. You tried to wait patiently, knowing he wouldn’t listen to you even if you tried to rush him.

Once satisfied, Nanami leaning down to grab his cock, lining himself up with your entrance. Slowly, he sunk in; breathing as your sweet walls hugged his length. You whimpered from the stretch, scratching at his shoulders at the slight pain and pressure. Nanami was attentive, continuing to kiss you all while whispering soft words against your lips.

“So good for me.. taking me so well. Mm— relax.. fuck, relax— princess.” He stuttered a bit, eyebrows pinched close as his hips continued slowly. Soon enough he was all the way in, shuddering at the feeling. Nanami settled for a moment, allowing you to rest and catch your breath.

You huffed softly, eyes peering at where you two were connected and back to his face— him already staring at you. You gave a coy smile, warming the minute his hand brushed your cheek. Your hips rose to signal you were fine, Nanami breathing a bit but allowing his hand to fall to your hip.

Slowly, the man dragged his own back, allowing only the tip to reside inside of you. With a single thrust a sharp moan escaped you, bringing him even closer to your body. His slow, languid thrusts continued, allowing you to feel every inch of his length; dragging across your walls and splitting you open so nicely. Your eyes found the back of your skull, beautiful sounds escaped your raw throat, walls clenching with every single thrust.

Kento wasn’t any better, eyes closed as you consumed his body. You felt way too fucking good, to the point the man felt as if he would go crazy if he continued. The way you clung to him, your smell, and as he opened his— your expression, fuck.. the thought of you being nothing more than a mission left his mind quickly.

The man lowered, thrusting deeper as his gentle and slowness flew out the window, thrusts quickening. The new pace caused your eyes to fly open, harsh moans escaped you as your nails dug into his skin. “Kento, Kento—!” You whimpered out, feeling the man leaning down to press wet kisses against your neck. Your thighs locked around his waist, squelches of your messy cunt covering the room.

Your arousal trickled down his length, forming a sticky white ring around the base of his cock. Thrusting, ruining you, it didn’t take long for your stomach to clench, eyes glossy as you creamed all over dick. Your arms wrapped around his neck, breath fanning against his face as he fucked you through your orgasm.

Kento gritted his teeth, fingers digging into your plush skin. “So good.. fuck, you feel so damn good, (Y/N).“ He spoke on hushed breath, cock twitching as he felt his end approaching. Without thinking his hands were dragging under your thighs, pushing them up to press against your chest.

The new position pulled him deeper inside you, tip brushing your cervix with each thrust, the pain melting as the pleasure consumed you. You were rendered useless under him, trapped under his weight with no place to run. Like you wanted to anyway. Despite how sore you were, how absolutely fucked out you were, you didn’t care. Your eyes rolling back, incoherent babbles escaping you as he turned your brain to mush.

It was no surprise you were coming again, harsher then before; making a complete mess under you. Kento groaned at this, your pretty walls fluttering around him pushing him over the edge— driving himself deep and filling you up.

You whined softly, nails digging into him as he gave a few more pumps inside you, hips soon slowing down. Heavy pants entered the room, simply grabbing onto one another, as if scared to let go.

Soon, Kento regained his breath, gulping as the reality of the situation sunk into his mind. Not only did he have inappropriate relations with you, he finished inside. He should be upset with himself, pulling out and quickly cleaning up as if to elevate the consequences. Instead, as his eyes landed on your beautiful features; your sweet smile, how content you looked under him, his anxiety left. Any consequence he had to deal with, was worth it.

Kento, would deal with anything for you.

The man slowly pulled out, hissing softly as he watched his cum flow out of your pretty cunt. Hands smoothing across your thighs, Kento leaned down to kiss your cheek. “I’ll be right back.” He promised, lifting from the bed and walking to the back of the house.

You eased your legs onto the bed, shivering at the slightly sore feeling. Despite this, your smile grew, turning onto your side and giggling a little to yourself.

This wasn’t an ideal situation at all. You a mission, him a government agent— together surviving against the undead outside. But, you wouldn’t have it any either way.

reblogs & comments are appreciated <3

[circulars-reasoning]

Hi, I hope this ask isn’t too invasive…

You’ve mentioned before that you’re an English teacher, and I was wondering if you’d be willing to speak a bit on how you became one (education? certifications?) and what it’s like for you teaching while living with DID.

The reason I ask is, I’m a senior in high school and I’ll be going to college in the fall. I’m really worried because I have so many alters who all want different things for my life. But in general, I’m drawn to teaching and many of my alters are okay with the idea of pursuing this as a career - especially if I can teach English, which has always been my best subject (I’m in the US).

I’m really scared about entering the adult world, and want to be as prepared as possible for this shift. Hearing from a system who followed the career path I’m considering would be really amazing!

If this ask bothers you or if you’re not comfortable answering it, I totally understand. Thank you for your time and consideration!

- Freya

Hey!!! Sorry I missed this ask -- I hardly use this blog and actually plan on deleting it soon. Just need to get around to reblogging the important posts.

But this is an important one, and I really want to respond here, in the hopes that you'll see it.

I'm an English teacher for 6th grade in the US, and I can say that, without a doubt, college was harder than being a teacher is currently. Do not let your experiences in college stop you from your goal. The professors will not be kind to you, especially if you don't know what's happening to you.

I'm going to pop this under a cut because boy howdy I am rambling.

In terms of college and working to become a teacher with DID:

Firstly, and most importantly: Scheduling. You will need to be completely on top of scheduling out your few years of college. You don't need to be perfect, mind you, but please be aware of what classes are required and when you will take them. My college fucked me over on this. The reason it's so vital is because most education programs in the US are 5 year programs -- 4 years of college, and a 5th year of one semester of a "practicum" (an unpaid internship at a school). During your practicum, you're not supposed to take any extra classes. I was taking 3 classes on top of my practicum to stay under 5 years. Don't do this. Either bite the bullet and do that extra 5th year of schooling, or plan accordingly so you don't get stuck the same way I did.

Now that that's out of the way:

DID definitely impacted my ability to study for things. It really helped having someone else holding me accountable; my partner, my roommate for 3 of my 4 years of college, really helped me out and basically did the education degree alongside me in spirit. If you can, find someone else to help you study.

That someone else should not be a fellow education major. This is because almost all of them will drop out by the time you graduate. That's a sorry truth, unfortunately. In my Junior Literature class of 6 students in my junior year, only 3 moved on with their degree; in my senior year, I was the only one who moved on. This is because college is fucking grueling, and everyone dropped out, thinking teaching would be harder (I'll get to that).

Don't try to overcome your disorder in college. Don't try to heal or recover while going through classes. Try to survive. You do not need to focus on recovery immediately, and it is a BAD idea to pile that much on your shoulders while in college and while teaching. Try to maintain and survive as best as you can. Recovery is a process and it will work on its own as you go through.

You can absolutely bullshit your way through an English degree, easy. It's not hard. Especially if you start writing about fanfiction in Lit 101 -- or at least, in my experience, that got me far. If you know you'd good at English, I would highly recommend it, esp if you're good at School English.

For your other classes, you'll likely have to do gen ed credits. Be creative and have fun. To fulfill my math credits, I took programming and "mathematical excursions" (you do fun shit with math and learn to pay for a house -- it was incredible). To fulfill science credits, I took Astronomy as a night class and got to look through a telescope during a night class for an A. It was awesome. (Well, ok, that class sucked, but you get the point).

DON'T OVERSTACK YOUR CREDITS. I wouldn't go above 18 credits per semester. I usually did around 16, and the minimum we could do was 12. Don't go minimum, but do not overstack. Again, scheduling, don't overschedule yourself.

You'll take a form of practicum each year more than likely. This will be where you go to a school and teach for a bit, and then you'll go do homework about what you taught. In your first year or two, you won't be doing almost any of the teaching; you'll shadow a mentor teacher who will show you how to do the thing. This is honestly so beneficial, but...

TAKE NOTES. For fucks sake, the memory part of DID fucking destroyed me in college, and notes would improve everything. Take double notes, honestly -- physical notes while in the school, and digital notes once you get home.

GET ENOUGH SLEEP. DID leads to insomnia so frequently. Start trying to keep good sleeping habits now, because it WILL get worse as college goes on. Do NOT do what I did and try to survive on 3 hours of sleep a night. It is not sustainable and you will catch every single disease these kids transfer onto people, I swear to god.

The Dean of Students will actually help. A lot. Please go to them if you're struggling. If you can't go, then send someone you trust to advocate for you. In my senior year when everything was going to shit with my mentor teacher (she was a horrible woman) and the admin at school were shitty to me (again, a horrible woman in charge), my partner went to the Dean and advocated for me. That mentor teacher was forced to retire from the school the next year, and my admin had to extend my semester by 3 days to give me a better practicum with someone who could actually do their fucking job. Do not feel scared to advocate.

Please. Please, if you remember nothing, remember this: do not listen to your coworkers in your final practicum. Don't listen to what they say about you becoming a teacher. These people are jaded assholes who, in my experience, want nothing more than to bomb the school. I wish I was kidding, but genuinely, so many of them are horrifically jaded and don't want to be there, ESPECIALLY when your practicum starts (which almost always coincides with state testing schedules). Teaching is awesome, genuinely, so long as you enjoy it.

And lastly for the college aspect: It gets easier. It really does. College was absolute hell for me up through senior year. This was because not only was I doing full coursework (ouch), but I was also starting to really understand and process bits of my trauma (yikes) and I was still with my abusers (yikes). This makes it so, so much harder, in so many ways. And I still did it. And now, here I am to live and tell the tale, and now that I am a teacher?

This shit is so much more forgiving. I have slipped up so fucking much, but as long as you do your best and mean well, your bosses will fucking adore you. They desperately need warm bodies in the room to help make sure the kids don't set fire to each other, and you are certainly going to fit the job description if you give a single shit.

Be open about some of your issues, but not all. I'm very open at work that I suffer from a disorder that leads to amnesia, but I'm careful about how I do this. "I actually have an issue that leads to a lot of forgetfulness, so if it's possible that you could send me a reminder of that meeting, I'd appreciate it." That's all I needed, and now we have a group calendar and my coworker has forgiven me numerous times for missing something.

Your mistakes as a system are completely seen as just. Normal Ass Human Mistakes. Forgot a meeting? Happens to everyone. Broke down crying in front of the kids? Shit fam, the teacher across the hallway walked out last week, you're doing remarkably just because you stayed.

The kids can fuck you up. Genuinely. They WILL trigger you. You WILL get memories of your childhood and it WILL hurt. And you will get through them with patience, time, and understanding. It'll be okay. Please, work hard on reminding yourself that these kids are not actively malicious. They do not understand your perspective.

To that note, almost every single teacher I know has a therapist. It is not a shocker to be in therapy. Most teachers need it. If you don't have one, I highly recommend getting one, if just to bitch about your coworkers with someone who will nod and say, "You deserved better than that, you're right."

Most of teaching is paperwork and meetings. Like genuinely, it's kind of ridiculous. We have meetings every Monday and Thursday, with occasional meetings on Tuesday and Wednesday. It's a LOT of meetings, and everything needs documented.

Work life balance. Please have one. This is when you start working on not bringing work home.

MULTIPLE CHOICE QUIZZES ARE OKAY. GENUINELY. I was so firmly against them as a student in college -- "that doesn't test genuine knowledge!" Neither does school. Please save yourself the hours of grading and do a few multiple choice quizzes. In some counties the system you use will autograde them.

God I could talk about this for hours on end. I'm really genuinely happy to answer so many questions about this. If you want to know anything specific, feel free to ask. I'm also over on @circular-bircular and plan to use that as my main system blog, so you can ask me more questions there if you want.

You've got this. I am absolutely rooting for you.