#i apologize if you feel something

[tripleyeeet]

001

SUMMARY: While hanging out with Satoru, Hitomi "runs into" an old friend. PAIRING: Nanami Kento/Sato Hitomi (OC) WARNINGS: Nothing really. Unless you count Satoru being a little shit disturber. A/N: It's been approx. eight years since I've posted anything. So, please go easy on me. I'm a little rusty. :') Also Kiko credits go to @gunslingerorchid because she's bound to properly pop up in this fic again.

MASTERLIST / SOUNDTRACK

“So, I got an interesting phone call last night.”

Before Hitomi even looks up, she can feel the smirk spreading across Satoru’s lips. His never-ending need to inherit a sense of mischief wherever he goes flickering through the air —forcing her to look up, completely unimpressed and already well aware this conversation is headed nowhere. 

“What do you mean interesting?” she asks anyway, watching him merely shrug his shoulders. Prompting her to roll her eyes and reach into the bag of candy resting on the bench between them. “You can’t just say that and not elaborate, man.” 

Popping the candy into her mouth, she feels it click against her teeth, making her cringe just as Satoru snorts and reaches for one of his own. “Sure I can.”

“I mean you could.” 

He raises a brow. “Or?” 

“Or you could —oh, I don’t know— not be a jerk and just tell me.” 

Smiling back, she tentatively bites down on the sweet, feeling part of it crack against her molars before it’s inevitably ground into nothing but sugary dust. Its flavour doing little to rid the sour taste of Satoru’s continued antics. 

“What’d be the fun in that though?”

All she does is scoff and avert her gaze, choosing instead to survey the park that they’re in, to distract herself. Knowing all too well if she gives in to his demands she’s bound to be stuck there for hours repeatedly guessing the answer until he relents. 

It’s what always happens when he’s got information. Especially the kind that’s either valuable or embarrassing. And considering Hitomi doesn’t care much for the former, she unfortunately assumes it’s the latter. 

“Shoko told me about that curse you took on yesterday.” 

Her eyes don’t meet his when she speaks. Instead, they scan the length of the pathway in front of them to survey the bodies that pass. Pinpointing certain ones with feigned interest to pass the time until Satoru releases a sigh. 

“Hardest one I’ve had in a long time.” 

He sounds overly satisfied. The tone of his voice nonchalant despite the topic, which makes Hitomi frown and relent, giving his face a once over —watching the way it curls to reveal the most gratified expression she’s certain she’s ever seen. 

“You brag about it to Kiko?” 

He’s shoving her before she can even think to smirk. His palm heavy against her shoulder as he jostles her to the left. “No, I bragged about it to everyone.” 

“But you bragged to her first, yeah?”

He doesn’t respond, which Hitomi knows means she’s won. A feeling of satisfaction spreading across her own lips as she pops another candy into her mouth. Allowing herself to savour it a bit more than the last as she triumphantly crosses her arms over her chest.

At which point, there’s nothing but silence. Aside from the busy background noise of the park, neither she nor Satoru speak on account of the fact that they’re apparently fighting now. The petty war amongst them blooming to life as he pulls out his phone and furiously begins to text. His fingers gliding across the screen until he suddenly stops and looks over.

“You hungry?”

Almost immediately she’s skeptical of the switch-up, specifically due to the calmness in his features and how the obvious irritation at her comment has somehow disappeared at the drop of a hat. There’s a part of her that knows whatever he’s planning is retaliatory. But regardless, she ends up agreeing to it. Choosing to ride the waves rather than fight them as he pockets the bag of candy before standing to stretch. 

“There’s this cafe a couple blocks back,” he suggests. Then, he proceeds to talk the entire way there, rattling off an endless sea of details about his aforementioned exorcism. Explaining all the various tips and tricks he uses to distract and strike —things she already knows how to do but listens to anyway, hoping that her good behaviour will aid her through whatever torment he’s more than likely plotting in his head. 

Because sometimes Satoru can be merciful. If you have the pride to give him exactly what he wants, there have been occasions where he’s been known to double back. Or at least, to lessen the blow, which Hitomi hopes is the case for her as they enter the cafe, settling at the back of the line. Both of them curiously glancing around the building in search of a table. 

Because, like always, the place is jam-packed. Every table appearing completely occupied by all the various groups huddling amongst one another with coffee and snacks. All of them lost in their own little words just like her and Satoru as he asks what she wants.

“A latte, I think,” she muses then, lazily glancing up at the board to see all the usual menu items —wondering maybe if she should switch things up before deciding against it.

“Want a croissant or something?” 

As he starts to pull out his wallet they take a couple of steps forward, following the flow of the line as searches for his debit card, inevitably signalling that it’s on him when he finds it.

“Maybe just a cookie,” she decides, watching him nod out of the corner of her eye.

She can feel him plotting. Regardless of how relaxed he seems, she can feel that familiar voice of reason at the back of her mind telling her that something’s up. And that, whatever it is, it’s coming, so be prepared.

“What kind?” 

“Oatmeal chocolate.”

He scrunches up his face in disgust before they get to the till and he orders, reciting hers first before getting himself something she doesn’t quite hear because she’s too busy scanning the cafe again. Narrowing her eyes to search through the sea of bodies, wondering what exactly it is that he’s planning. 

Because truthfully, Satoru’s a creative guy. The kind of person who can enact a good solid dose of revenge with little prep time. Which is why she’s being so cautious as she follows him towards the handoff plane; her fingers nervously playing with the strap of her crossbody bag. Her mind racing through plot after wicked plot until he’s handing her her cup of coffee and leading them toward the patio outside.

“Surprised they’ve got room for us.”

He says it like a snide remark —like he’s already amping up the mockery as they both sit down across from each other, staring with cautious eyes. Both of them refusing to look the other way as they simultaneously take a sip of their drinks.

“Seems awfully convenient, huh?”

“I know, it’s crazy.” He lets out a chuckle and readjusts his position in the chair, allowing his body to appear more relaxed. “Guess we got lucky.” 

She knows luck’s got nothing to do with it, but she nods anyway. Then, she mirrors his position by slouching in her chair. Allowing her spine to settle even though she can feel her muscles growing stiffer by the second. The anticipation of whatever he’s planning weighing down her mind as she tries to think of what it could be. 

Right out of the gate, she assumes it’s related to the phone call. Considering he wouldn’t have mentioned it if it wasn’t important, she begins to mentally list off potential callers. Names she wouldn’t initially think to jump to until the sound of a heavy sigh behind her makes her jump. 

“Nanami!”

Suddenly, a rush of discomfort hits her stomach. As Satoru jumps to his feet, practically tripping over the chair to her right, she can’t help but feel a bit sick. Almost dizzy as she follows her friend’s movement —watching the way his body practically ploughs into the chest of a much different-looking Kento to the one she was once familiar with. 

“Should’ve known it wouldn’t be just us.”

His voice is just as low and unemotional as she remembers it, causing her to turn away and reach for her cup to take a much-needed sip. All while trying her best not to let his comment get to her as Satoru laughs and starts to throw together some bullshit story about how he’d run into Hitomi here. 

Which stupidly, she doesn’t comment on. Or rather, can’t, thanks to the paralyzing sensation of Kento’s presence and how even just the thought of making eye contact makes her want to rip off her own skin.

“Figured you two might want to catch up so I invited her to join.”

Despite the tension, Kento still manages to hum. Low and slow before he gives into Satoru’s wordless demands by sitting down next to her, offering her a questionable look that she continues to ignore. Unable to move thanks to the realization that he’s here, sitting right next to her after losing contact. Staring at her behind foreign shades that cover his menacingly familiar eyes.  

“So, have you talked to Yaga yet?”

As soon as Satoru speaks, Hitomi glances between them. Her head rapidly moving, wondering what exactly Yaga has to do with this.

“I had a meeting with him this morning.”

“And?” Satoru smiles at Kento, but his eyes flicker over to Hitomi, taking in the confused expression that continues to develop across her face. Relishing in the way her eyes angrily narrow and her lips begin to part, wanting desperately to speak. 

“I start training tomorrow.” 

“Training?” 

Before she can stop herself, she’s glaring at Kento. Every feature of her face twisting to resemble something bordering on annoyance and betrayal. The unfortunate mixture of feelings prompting Kento to let out a huff and nod —refusing to speak. 

“Yeah, didn’t I tell you? Nanami’s back in the game.”

She wants to strangle her friend as she watches him clap Kento on the back. Even more so when he proceeds to explain the aforementioned phone call from last night. 

“Salaryman over here got a taste of the action again and decided to come back,” he says, watching as Kento then proceeds to roll his eyes and cross his arms over his chest. A response that Hitomi knows is his way of silently telling to him to shut the fuck up. 

Considering it’s pretty similar to what she usually does too, she can tell then that there’s more to it than Satoru’s letting on. The details of his rather hefty life decision continuing to remain in the dark as they sit together, stirring in silence as they glance at one another.

Which quickly becomes borderline unbearable. Especially when Hitomi realizes just how curious her eyes can be. Their desire to glance at Kento and his new look becoming more of an issue the longer they sit.

At which point she realizes that it’s been nearly four years since she’s seen him. Meaning, it shouldn’t be a surprise that he looks like an entirely new person. With his well-groomed hair and fancy, new suit, it’s obvious that he’s changed —developed in a way she’s bound to be unfamiliar with. And yet, she can’t help but gawk regardless, watching him straighten his back beneath the tan and blue fabric. Focusing on the shift in his position as he turns his head to look at Satoru, exposing the sharpened line of his jaw. 

“So, was there an actual reason you called me down here?”

“Actual reason?” Placing a hand on his chest, Satoru offers a fake look of offence. Forcing back a smile as he furrows his brow. “Nanami, you wound me. I thought we were friends.” 

“We haven’t spoke in four years,” he deadpans, prompting Satoru to scoff. 

“Can’t a man just shoot an old pal a hangout text?” 

“Not if there’s an obvious ulterior motive involved,” Hitomi comments, earning a slight glance of recognition from Kento that has her chest tightening. 

“Ulterior motive? I—“ Satoru huffs and stands from his seat, slamming his palms dramatically against the table, causing some patrons nearby to look over with interest. “God, you two haven’t changed one bit. Still always ganging up on me.” Shaking his head, he then grabs his croissant and takes a bite, scolding them with his mouth half full. “It’s not fair.” 

“No, what isn’t fair is you springing this unprompted reunion,” Kento comments. Then, he fully looks at Hitomi with tired eyes before clearing his throat. “Apologies, by the way. I didn’t—“

“It’s fine. I know you wouldn’t—”

“If I had known—“

“Nanami, it’s—“

Quickly, their voices meld together to create an inaudible mess. Neither one of them able to detect each other’s nervous ticks until Satoru’s loudly chuckling above them. The sound of his amusement cutting through their argument like a knife. 

“Well, on that note I should probably head out,” he tells them, peering over his shades to flash a not-so-subtle wink before he vanishes without a trace, leaving them both to stare at the now empty space with pissed-off looks. 

“I see he hasn’t changed.” 

Despite the fog of fear that’s begun to envelop her senses, Hitomi snorts in response. Then, she raises her hands to her face to suppress an uncomfortable laugh, allowing herself to ruminate on her current situation. Realizing then just how surreal it feels to see him sitting so close —to hear his voice, despite the obvious annoyance at her unplanned presence and to see just how much the world has changed him during their time apart. 

As stupid as it sounds, it makes her sort of happy. Even though it’s obvious he isn’t particularly fond of their impromptu reunion, she can’t deny how it makes her stomach flip. Or how, when she eventually drops her hands, noticing how he stares at her with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes, all she can do is offer a tight-lipped grin. The kind you offer in discomforting solidarity when neither of you knows exactly how to feel or what to say. 

Which she imagines is about where he's at too. Alongside her, he’s probably trying to wrack his brain for something sane to say. A sentence that’ll be polite and normal and not at all awkward, even though they’re already well past that point.

“Shoko’s the same too. If you’re wondering.”

As soon as she says it, Hitomi knows it’s an odd topic to bring up. Considering he probably doesn’t care all that much, it's more of a shot in the dark than anything. A reach for a common ground that they can both navigate. 

“Gojo said she quit smoking.”

“About a year ago, yeah.”

After that, his pinched expression softens. The aggravated lines of his face becoming less defined as she watches him slump in his chair and discard the shades from his face to rub his eyes. Another wave of silence washing over them as she watches him proceed to process her words. 

“Kiko hasn’t changed much either.”

Beneath the shade of his hands, she hears him hum, as if recognizing her words. 

“And Yaga’s also still—“

“I should probably go.”

She feels her fingers twitch from under the table. The pain of his words rattling her system in ways she refuses to admit as she swallows hard —nodding in acknowledgement before forcing herself to accept that she may have come on too quickly. Considering Kento’s always been the reserved type —forever keeping his thoughts close to his chest, Hitomi’s well aware of the progression you have to take to earn his trust. Having done so in the past, she knows it's a slow climb. One that takes the kind of effort most wouldn't even consider exerting. 

So, when he cuts her off without warning, she isn’t surprised. Nor does she make an effort to fight him as he begins to stand and readjust his coat. Or when he wordlessly stares down at her, taking in her face —how it’s probably aged during their time apart. 

“It was nice to see you.”

“Regardless of the circumstances?” 

Despite the continued tension, she can’t help but tease him, watching the way his lip quirks ever so slightly before evening out again. 

“Yes.”

“Well then, it was nice to see you too,” she replies, tucking her arms across her chest. Feeling her heart rate quicken once he offers a nod and leaves, rushing through the sea of patio furniture until he’s down the street and out of sight. 

[inkskinned]

so one of the things that's so horrifying about birth control is that you have to, like, navigate this incredibly personal choice about your body and yet also face the epitome of misogyny. like, someone in the comments will say it wasn't that bad for me, and you'll be utterly silenced. like, everyone treats birth control like something that's super dirty. like, you have no fucking information or control over this thing because certain powerful people find it icky.

first it was the oral contraceptives. you went on those young, mostly for reasons unrelated to birth control - even your dermatologist suggested them to control your acne. the list of side effects was longer than your arm, and you just stared at it, horrified.

it made you so mentally ill, but you just heard that this was adulthood. that, yes, there are of course side effects, what did you expect. one day you looked up yasmin makes me depressed because surely this was far too intense, and you discovered that over 12,000 lawsuits had been successfully filed against the brand. it remains commonly prescribed on the open market. you switched brands a few times before oral contraceptives stopped being in any way effective. your doctor just, like, shrugged and said you could try a different brand again.

and the thing is that you're a feminist. you know from your own experience that birth control can be lifesaving, and that even when used for birth control - it is necessary healthcare. you have seen it save so many people from such bad situations, yourself included. it is critical that any person has access to birth control, and you would never suggest that we just get rid of all of it.

you were a little skeeved out by the implant (heard too many bad stories about it) and figured - okay, iud. it was some of the worst pain you've ever fucking experienced, and you did it with a small number of tylenol in your system (3), like you were getting your bikini line waxed instead of something practically sewn into your body.

and what's wild is that because sometimes it isn't a painful insertion process, it is vanishingly rare to find a doctor that will actually numb the area. while your doctor was talking to you about which brand to choose, you were thinking about the other ways you've been injured in your life. you thought about how you had a suspicious mole frozen off - something so small and easy - and how they'd numbed a huge area. you thought about when you broke your wrist and didn't actually notice, because you'd thought it was a sprain.

your understanding of pain is that how the human body responds to injury doesn't always relate to the actual pain tolerance of the person - it's more about how lucky that person is physically. maybe they broke it in a perfect way. maybe they happened to get hurt in a place without a lot of nerve endings. some people can handle a broken femur but crumble under a sore tooth. there's no true way to predict how "much" something actually hurts.

in no other situation would it be appropriate for doctors to ignore pain. just because someone can break their wrist and not feel it doesn't mean no one should receive pain meds for a broken wrist. it just means that particular person was lucky about it. it should not define treatment.

in the comments of videos about IUDs, literally thousands of people report agony. blinding, nauseating, soul-crushing agony. they say things like i had 2 kids and this was the worst thing i ever experienced or i literally have a tattoo on my ribs and it felt like a tickle. this thing almost killed me or would rather run into traffic than ever feel that again.

so it's either true that every single person who reports severe pain is exaggerating. or it's true that it's far more likely you will experience pain, rather than "just a pinch." and yet - there's nothing fucking been done about it. it kind of feels like a shrug is layered on top of everything - since technically it's elective, isn't it kind of your fault for agreeing to select it? stop being fearmongering. stop being defensive.

you fucking needed yours. you are almost weirdly protective of it. yours was so important for your physical and mental health. it helped you off hormonal birth control and even started helping some of your symptoms. it still fucking hurt for no fucking reason.

once while recovering from surgery, they offered you like 15 days of vicodin. you only took 2 of them. you've been offered oxy for tonsillitis. you turned down opioids while recovering from your wisdom tooth extraction. everything else has the option. you fucking drove yourself home after it, shocked and quietly weeping, feeling like something very bad had just happened. the nurse that held your hand during the experience looked down at you, tears in her eyes, and said - i know. this is cruelty in action.

and it's fucked up because the conversation is never just "hey, so the way we are doing this is fucking barbaric and doctors should be required to offer serious pain meds" - it's usually something around the lines of "well, it didn't kill you, did it?"

you just found out that removing that little bitch will hurt just as bad. a little pinch like how oral contraceptives have "some" serious symptoms. like your life and pain are expendable or not really important. like maybe we are all hysterical about it?

hysteria comes from the latin word for uterus, which is great!

you stand here at a crossroads. like - this thing is so important. did they really have to make it so fucking dangerous. and why is it that if you make a complaint, you're told - i didn't even want you to have this in the first place. we're told be careful what you wish for. we're told that it's our fault for wanting something so illict; we could simply choose not to need medication. that maybe if we don't like the scraps, we should get ready to starve.

we have been saying for so long - "i'm not asking you to remove the option, i'm asking you to reconsider the risk." this entire time we hear: well, this is what you wanted, isn't it?

[bixels]

tarpit site.

[tubbytarchia]

For the ranchers a bit more shleep i just really like charakters comfy and nice:Dc /nf

Eepies. Jimmy woke up to really sore wings but its okay because Tango

[r0semultiverse]

Small indie artists in need of support for moving out by September!

💜 These lovely folks [@QuinsCurse (they/them) & @sswitchblade03 (xe/xem and he/him)] are part of a small queer-owned Youtube community I'm in. 💖

💖 If you could lend a helping hand by reblogging & queueing this post up until the start of September, I'd greatly appreciate it & I'm sure these fine folks would too! 💜

⚠️ Do not tag as d*nations or anything like that! ⚠️

"Hi everyone! Requests are officially closed as I am opening emergency commissions! Please consider supporting me as we are getting kicked out and have managed to find a place that’s affordable but need to save up 5k by the end of the month! Anything helps! I also have a dontations page if you are willing to help do that! All the money received from commissions will be going to the deposit! https://ko-fi.com/quinscurse/commissions https://ko-fi.com/quinscurse/goal?g=32"

⚠️ Do not tag as d*nations or anything like that! ⚠️

"https://ko-fi.com/sswitchblade03/commissions https://ko-fi.com/sswitchblade03/goal?g=0 EMERGENCY COMMISSIONS!! My roommate ‪@QuinsCurse‬and I are needing about $5000CAD for a down payment on a new place as we need to be out of our current place by September! Every bit counts! My goal is to be set to $3000CAD. I will draw anything (coloured and rendered) for $5 CAD each! If you are willing to give more it will be appreciated. Examples of my work below!"

⚠️ Do not tag as d*nations or anything like that! ⚠️

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I gotta know: do you know if the Certified Creature is in The Untamed, or did it get edited out for More Serious Fantasy?

If you are referring to LWJ's Bunny hairpiece, that's just the whimsy of PD-MDZS.

[pedrasacorn]

Imagine him gently rolling his hips up, hitting that perfect spot as he rocks into you from above, your fingers dig into his bicep as a whimper escapes you. “I know baby, I know it feels so good I’m sorry.”

He kisses your cheek over and over, caressing your hair, and cooing, “I know I’m sorry…M’sorry for hitting that spot, baby I know it’s so much to handle huh? Feels too good…” He swallows your moan in a kiss. “You can take it…m’here to help you take it.”

[hoshiina]

pairing: hoshina soushirou x gn!reader (no prns)

summary: he struggled to fall in love while you struggled to value your life the way you valued others, entire fic is inspired by one line from nandemonaiyo by macaroni empitsu

warnings: not suicidal acts but it is very selfless behaviour from the reader, reader does not exactly fear death, hoshina calls you "darling"

wc: 1500

Hoshina Soushirou struggled to fall in love, to accept that he was in love without feeling so terribly vulnerable, and you knew this. On the other hand, you struggled to value your own life the way you valued others, and he knew this. And surprisingly, or perhaps unfortunately, this combination pieced together your relationship far better than one would expect.

You were a platoon leader in the 3rd division, and you’ve been for quite a while now. You were good at what you did, bringing people together and livening up the mood when times got dark. Still, you were strong enough to not only get the job done, but also to cover for your officers when things got tough. While you enjoyed what you did, and took pride in the position you were given, you weren’t exactly fond of it anymore.

You were sick and tired of seeing your officers die, and the thought of them gone kept you up at night. Not to mention there was nothing could get rid of the guilt you felt when you had to inform their loved ones of their passing. Well, perhaps you didn’t have to inform them personally, but to you, it was the least you could do. But it hurt you so much, no matter the number of times you’ve gone through it through all these years. Even if it was inevitable considering your job, and even if it wasn’t something you had much control over, you just couldn’t get used to it— nor did you really want to. So a few years back, you had sworn that you’d protect your officers, even if it meant you’d lose your life. If risking your life was going to save theirs, there wasn’t even a need to hesitate, you’d do it every single time.

And Hoshina knew this. He knew you would and he also knew there was no stopping you at this point, because he agreed. He was the vice-captain of the 3rd division, he knew exactly how you felt and couldn’t agree more. He also knew that you took these passings to your heart. He knew the thoughts kept you up at night, and he knew just how much they broke your heart. So subconsciously, he tried not to get attached. He had locked up his feelings after a while and so he loved you a little— just a little. He was good at this too, because he naturally struggled to fall in love in the first place. He struggled to accept he was in love.

And as horrible as this sounded, you knew this and you wanted him to, because when it comes down to it, if you were to leave him behind, what you were doing would be no different. And that was the last thing you wanted to do— leave someone who loved you behind.

While this sounded like nothing more than a broken relationship, at the end of the day you were undeniably in love with him and he was as well— there was no doubting that. Although he didn't believe in being with someone while constantly on the brink of death, he still loved you and he still wished to be by your side, the same way you were absolutely in love with him. So this was just the way it was.

It was obvious whenever one of your officers passed, it was always all over your face. As soon as you walked into your shared unit, even if you put on a smile and laughed, he’d see it in your eyes right away. He’d sense it in the way you walked and the way you talked. The way you’d be a little zoned out, and sounded terribly exhausted.

Every time this happened, he made you a warm cup of tea and squeezed your cheeks as he gave you a warm kiss, and you’d realize that he caught on again. Today was one of those days again.

“It’s not your fault, darling,” he said. “You did everything you could, I know this. You know this.”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to mope around and ruin your day,” you said, and he shook his head. “I’m just a little tired of myself, for watching my coworkers who followed my lead and trusted my orders to just… die. Also, horribly ashamed to face their family— I could never apologize enough.”

“Yeah, that’s probably the hardest part,” he said.

“I know they don’t blame me, nor do they show how lost they are when they’re in front of me,” you said. “But when they’re alone, at night, they’ll start to think. It’s always harder for those left behind.”

“I won’t ever leave you behind,” he said as he kissed your forehead.

“Oh, don’t say that now,” you said. “When I’m gone you better not mope around. You're going to go find someone who won’t go dying on you any moment. You better not miss me.”

“Oh, don’t you say that. We’re not trying to jinx anything over here,” he said, flicking you on the forehead, which you quickly put your hand over. “Besides I’ll be fine. You know this.”

You did, and it made you smile. While even you thought it’d break your heart to hear the man you loved say he’d be fine without you, it was still a bit of a relief to you. This was okay.

“But really, you’d better not leave me behind,” you said.

“I would never,” he said.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

He’d be lying if he said this didn’t break his heart a little, but he did find strange comfort in it. Or he used to at the very least. He had always been this way, it had always scared him to fall in love, to find someone important to him, and become someone important to someone. So being in a relationship came with a large sense of guilt for him, because he was never able to let go of himself and love, and he feared how unfair this was. But now, he could just love you a little, and detach himself from the rest. It was easier for him to do so.

It was supposedly, exactly what he wanted.

Yet, every time there was a mission he thought about you. He thought about whether you’d do something reckless today, or whether you’d come home injured. He prayed that none of your officers would be in danger, because he knew you’d be fine alone. He wished that you’d come home that night and scold him again for staying up too late or drinking coffee at 3 in the morning. He hoped that you’d laugh if he were to crack the stupid joke he came up with just now, and you’d make him laugh in the morning over some silly mistake you'd complain about.

He hoped that you wouldn’t leave him behind.

“Oh,” he said.

“What is it, Hoshina?” Okonogi asked.

“Sorry, nothing,” he said. “I’ll stop spacing out.”

“Rather unlike you, to be,” she said.

“Yeah,” he said. “I fear it is.”

It truly was rather unlike him to be hopelessly in love, and to know that he was. He was hopelessly in love with you.

This just wasn’t the right time to realize, because he had a horrifying number of kaiju to deal with in front of him. Each one of them separately would not have been a problem for him, but there were just so many— not to mention they were working together. He’d be fine though, because he promised he wouldn’t leave you behind, and who was he to be breaking a promise with you?

Soon after, Okonogi had made the decision to call people over to support him, and immediately you rushed over. You knew you had your platoon to be watching over and you weren’t the closest to him, but none of that mattered. If he was gone, you’d truly be nothing, even if that wasn’t the same for him with you.

Yet, by the time you had made it he had already neutralized every last kaiju.

“Soushirou!” you yelled, rushing over to him. He was so beaten up as he lay on the ground, absolutely still, it took everything in you to not think about the worst. Until he raised his arm to give you a weak thumbs up. “You absolute asshole. You promised you wouldn’t leave me behind.”

He smiled as you reached his side.

“You’ll be okay,” you said, sounding more like you were trying to convince yourself. “The ambulance is coming.”

“You know, I was thinking,” he said, and immediately you shot him a glare as if to warn him that this better be good if he’s wasting his breath on it.

But it was.

“Darling, I’d die if you left me behind.”

[pettyprocrastination]

Two Phantoms

Pairing: Simon Riley x Female Reader

Summary: Simon sees a familiar face that doesn’t recognize him back. Kid!fic warning for those who do not enjoy them. 

Warning: nothing explicit but vague descriptions of violence, sex, and PTSD.

Word count: 1.2k

Authors note: This is purely a word vomit i did last night at 2am while thinking about Simon not being recognized by certain members of the 141 since they dont know what he actually looks like (ignoring the MW2 canon where he shows his face to them all) but i hope you enjoy nonetheless!

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     There’s a struggle in the shift. Going from being Lieutenant of the 141 to being a civilian. From hunting down arms dealers through rain forests and balmy deserts while ignoring the pain in his body and ringing in his ears at the gunfire around him to stepping off of a plane at the Manchester airport and hailing a taxi. To go from a masked monster to a man who hails a taxi in the pouring rain and ignores the driver’s attempt at conversation, shoulders curling in so he can fit his bulk into the backseat with his bag on his lap.

     Going from Ghost to what remains of Simon Riley. 

     There’s no reason to wear a mask in public anymore. Nobody knows him. The spot he’s picked an apartment in is empty of those who remember little Simon and his brother Tommy, nor the tragedy that befell the family. They only know the man who doesn’t speak and only stays in his own apartment every few months but offers his neighbors a terse nod each time he catches their gaze in the hall. 

     If anything a mask would draw more attention to him in public. Nobody bats an eye at the tall man with dark eyes in the fruit aisle of the supermarket.

     Which is why when you see your Lieutenant in public you walk right by him without a second glance in his direction while he remains frozen in place. He isn’t sure why it's shocking to him. You get leave just the same as him. You have a home to return to, a life outside of the blood and shit of the missions where you take his orders with ease, where you leave your fatigues to wear a comfortable pair of jeans and a hoodie with a bleach stain on the back.

       Simon hasn’t seen it before. He knows it exists. That you exist outside of the 141, outside of him. A place where you don’t follow his command in the heat of gunfire and slip into his cot the night after when neither of you can sleep to find solace in each others arms and the marks he leaves on you. 

     But now he’s witnessed it with his own two eyes. In the form of two boxes of pancake mix in your shopping trolley and the sleeping baby in your arms as you try to decide between orange juice brands.

     “Quality is going to shit everywhere, isn’t it bubs?” 

     Simon is staring. He knows it but can’t look away. 

     It’s a duality he knows everybody has. He’s aware that Johnny goes home to Glasgow to visit his brother and gaggle of nieces and nephews that no doubt shriek with joy and hang of his arms every time he visits, asking a myriad of questions that the man answers with patience and kindness one only reserves for children. He knows that Gaz goes home to a small apartment and a girl two semesters away from getting her masters in psychology that Simon doesn’t know the name of but can tell from the way he tries to hide his smile that she’s important to him. Price goes back to an office where he goes over reports and budget plans in a chair that makes his back ache and knees pop every time he stands from it before driving to a house that was once filled with the raucous that can only be made by 15 year old boys that have since graduated college and only call him when its Christmas or his birthday. 

     It’s different to see. To set his eyes on the little curls on your child's head (is it your child? Maybe you're babysitting, a godchild perhaps? Nephew? He knows you aren’t married. There’s an absence of a wedding band nor the tan line that would come from the removal of one in all the years he’s known you.) and to witness the same hand he’s seen sink KA-Bar into the chest of an enemy move up and down, up and down on the little ones back while their fingers curled and uncurled into the fabric of your hoodie like a cat kneading a pillow. 

     Logic knocks in the back of his head when he realizes time has passed since he first saw you. And that if you didn’t recognize him then you definitely won’t recognize him when you turn around and realize he’s been staring at you and your baby without moving for a solid seven minutes in the middle of the juice aisle. 

     Just as his foot shifts to turn and pull him away from this peek into your life that he didn't know existed,  the little one in your arm stirs. A soft whine curls in the back of their throat as their chubby face scrunches up and eyes crack open to latch onto the man watching them back. 

     You still haven’t noticed him. You're far too busy swaying from side to side to keep the baby in your arms calm and checking a carton of eggs for cracks to see the man behind you that is now locked into what feels like a staring contest with an infant. 

     “It’s alright Sam.” Your voice, even when talking to a baby, has a dry clip to it that he knows so well. The same curl in ‘sir’ when he’s pissed you off and the rasp of your laugh at a dingey bar under Soap’s arm. “I’m almost done, okay? Then we can go back home and take a nice long nap.” 

     Sam babbles behind his pacifier and wiggles in your arms. 

     “Yeah, you and me both, little man.” 

     Brown eyes stare into his own from over your shoulder without shame or abandon. 

     He looks like you. 

     But even without your fatigues and your weapon, you’re still a soldier. They all are. 

     You feel it, his eyes on you like a soft tug in the back of your head. Your sister calls it paranoia, her husband says PTSD. 

     You aren’t sure which is better. But when you turn around you see a man standing behind you, an empty basket in his hand and sad eyes sinking into your form. 

     Sam whines. 

     You can feel the thread of recognition between your fingertips as you look at him if only for a moment, a split second of staring into his eyes and grasping for some memory from high school or perhaps a date years passed that never turned into a second because you were overseas, just barely able to feel the fraying strings in your hand before its gone. 

     “Sorry-” 

     Your sister says you get stuck in your own head too much anyways. 

     “-Didn’t mean to block the aisle.” 

     He should say something. Some small reassurance that it’s no problem or he didn’t mind waiting, but he just nods his head once and watches as the woman he’s been through hell with walks away from him without a flicker of realization of who you're talking to. 

     Sam watches him over your shoulder and raises one little hand out toward him, before wiggling it back and forth in goodbye. 

     Simon waves back as you turn into the cleaning aisle and vanish from his line of sight. 

[starryluminary]

I have no explanation for this except Luigi and Peasley are super cute and also I love Noco so damn much. Aren't they cute???

Reference (Edited for convenience)

[corvidaearts]

you see officer, I don’t think I have a solid explanation for this one was originally doodling out a whole series of scar bc theres a lot of versions of him. and then...I got a little carried away making this soo...... anyway this was supposed to be his last life version, cloak less version under the cut

[payasita]

can I see your verison of, Bishop Lamb?

beloved beheaded :>

[paimonial-rage]

lol yeah ok - how about 12 and 13 instead? - last anon

[Character Analysis Ask Meme]

What is Neuvillette’s love language?

As that he does not have a way with human relationships, Neuvillette shows his feelings best through acts of service and gift-giving. After all, words are difficult and easy to construe. Quality time often leaves him at a loss for the very words he has a difficult time with. And physical touch? That’s simply too intimate for him. So what better way to show how he feels through something concrete? Surely if he gives of his time and resources for the people he cares about, they will understand how high of a regard he holds them. At least, he hopes. 

What is Neuvillette like in a relationship?

As unfamiliar with human emotions as he is, you notice Neuvillette’s feelings for you long before he does. How can you not? You see it clearly—the softness in his eyes whenever they fall upon you, the fondness in his smile, the requests for you to stay if not just a moment longer. You are taken by surprise the day he notices. He approaches you with a troubled, albeit bashful expression. He says that it was brought to his attention that he has feelings for you. Adorable as he is, what else can you do but accept them?

Much to your expectation, there is a hesitance in his step after he begins to court you. He has never been in a relationship before. He doesn’t want to mess it up. So how close is he allowed to walk next to you? Is it proper to offer you his arm? Will you refuse him if he asks you to accompany him to a show? But your presence at his side leaves him light-headed. How many times this has lead to social gaffes and things of the sort? But when you laugh, how can he not chuckle to himself in turn?

With Neuvillette, you will find no bombastic displays of affection. There will not be poetic words of love and adoration. After all, Neuvillette is a simple man and will show his love through simple, yet earnest ways. He will want to spend time with you. He will want to do his best to communicate and be honest with you. He will want to make you happy in any way you see fit. He will do his best for you.

Zhongli's below the cut!

What is Zhongli’s love language?

Anyone close to the Geo Archon knows his penchant for gift-giving. Really, it often catches many by surprise the sheer thoughtfulness and rarity of the gifts he gives. Not only are they often pricey, but also chosen with the receiver specifically in mind. It’s not rare to see people moved to tears upon receiving them, touched by the amount of care he puts into each one. As with gifts, Zhongli is also liberal with the words of affirmation he gives others. He does not hesitate to state a person’s strengths, nor how high of a regard he holds them. With him, there is no room for doubt. 

What is Zhongli like in a relationship?

You don’t exactly know when you both became an item. As wordy as Zhongli is, he never bothered to tell you his feelings plainly. He even rejected you at first, stating he didn’t see you in that way. But then he said he’d try, didn’t he? And from that point, things began to change. How he’d invite you to Miss Yun’s performances, or offered his arm for you to take while he’d walk you home. How he’d tell you the most outrageous stories with a straight face, then laugh with an amused glint in his eye when you took him seriously. Somewhere along the way, the wall he kept began to fall.

Still, it is hard to tell his feelings as he never becomes the most physical with his affections. He does not hug you, nor does he hold your hand when you walk at his side. Sparing the moments when you’re the most endearing, he does not often kiss you of his own accord. Still, there is a level of familiarity and intimacy that he displays with no one else. You’re the only person he’ll let by his side on the days he wants most to be left alone. You’re the one whose opinions matter the most. You’re the only one he’ll tease as mercilessly as he does. You’re special.

With Zhongli, you realize that your relationship with him is not primarily one of romance, but of companionship. He does not simply view you as a friend. No, you’re much more than that. Out of all the things that come and go in his life, you are and will always be the only constant. You are everything to him. Even if you may part ways for a time, the place by his side will always remain yours. A relationship with you is a contract, one that he will always uphold. 

[seagull-scribbles]

Taxidermy fingerprints, taxonomies our differences

[Part 2 here]

[tommygettingwrittenoff]

i just think if roles were reversed and buck was the one saying those gay ass lines to eddie, eddie wouldve proposed like four seasons ago

[canonkiller]

or, stop apologizing for feeling emotions about something having a character you think about is not a mortal sin (mobile version rough draft)