#i have to go to a craft store the only thing i could make w the yarn i currently have is tsurumi foze. and he is cobbled together w 3

[fslurusami]

barely halfway done w this tsurumi plush im making but now i can finally live my dream of sticking my fingers in his HOLE yayyyyy

[hayakawalove]

I'd Wait For You

Summary: Everything is perfect between you and Suguru. It could not get any better. The universe has a funny way of doing things though. How do you cope once Suguru gets taken away from you? Will Suguru be able to move onto the afterlife, or will he stay by your side? A/N: I wanted to try my hand at writing angst. Haven't done it too much. Please ignore the inaccuracies of the medicine, it won't be perfect. Comments always appreciated!

CW: SFW, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Death (not reader), Grief/Mourning, Afterlife, Depression, Medical, Car Accidents, Sad, Fucked up but honestly not too bad

W/C: 6,584

Suguru hadn’t known love until he first met you. 

Everything that led up to you was somehow minuscule compared to the emotions that coursed through his veins whenever he saw you. He wasn’t aware of how fast a heart could beat, how his lungs could falter from merely being in the presence of another person. He wasn’t even quite sure what he’d done to achieve someone like you. We were made for each other, you always told him. In his opinion, he believed he was made for you. Crafted and designed to love you. Not because you needed to have someone like him, but because he needed someone like you. Someone to care for and love.

It was your birthday, and just like he had done every year before this, Suguru was planning on making your dinner. He liked doing it, it made him feel like he was doing something right. It was the least he could do for you, after everything you’ve done for him. He thinks you don’t even know the half of it. 

“Shit.” Suguru murmurs under his breath as he searches the freezer. He could have sworn he bought the meat for tonight, but it was nowhere to be found. 

“Did you find it yet?” He hears your voice call from the couch. 

He doesn’t really have the heart to tell you that no, he hadn’t found it. His lip twitches as he pushes aside all the useless ingredients, looking in places he had already checked three times over. 

Suguru is so focused on the fridge in front of him that he doesn’t even hear your feet padding into the kitchen. 

Tender hands wrap around him from behind, yanking him from his despair. When he looks over his shoulder he sees you behind him, peeking over with curious eyes. 

“I'm sorry baby.” He speaks quietly, turning around to the fridge again. 

He shuts the freezer and faces you, taking you into his arms. It’s nice like this, having you pushed up against him. It makes him feel like he’s protecting you. 

“What’re you sorry for?” You ask. 

You reach your hands up and place a palm on either side of his face. Your mouth drops open as you hold him. 

“Suguru, you’re freezing.” You scold. “How long were you looking in there?” 

He hadn’t realized how cold he was until your warm fingers pressed into his cheek. He nuzzles against you and allows his lids to flutter closed, indulging in the warmth you provide. 

“Only a little bit.” He says. He would rather die than tell you he’s been here for ten minutes. 

“No luck though, huh?” You don’t seem sad when you ask this, and Suguru can’t figure out why. 

He feels like he ruined your birthday. 

“Unfortunately no, but I’m gonna go head down to the store to pick it up. I shouldn’t be gone long.” 

“I don’t want you to go, though!” 

You have an exaggerated frown playing on your lips as you tug his arm. 

“Baby, you need food. I promise it’ll be-“ 

“Why don’t we go out to eat?” You propose. 

He’s looking at you with raised brows, watching partly in amusement. It wasn’t an awful idea, but he much rather preferred to cook for you himself. It was like a gift that way, although he bought you plenty of those too. He nearly felt giddy at the idea of how you would react to each present, all hiding in various places around the house. You always told him he didn't have to get you anything, so he had to get creative in his hiding spots.

“What, you hate my cooking?” He jokes, pulling back to straighten your clothes. 

At first you would snap at him when he mindlessly groomed you like this, but you had gotten used to it. It was just another avenue for him to show his love, fixing your attire like a mother would.

“Ugh, it’s the worst!” You joke back. 

Both of you were well aware of how much you loved his cooking. 

“A shame.” He murmurs. 

“We never go out, it’s been ages since we’ve gone somewhere nice. Don’t you think it would be fun? That way, you wouldn’t have to slave over the stove for me.” 

“But what if I want to slave over the stove for you?” 

“There will always be another time.” You squeeze his arm. 

You’re right. He can always do it for you for your next birthday. 

“If you say so.” Suguru presses his lips against yours. 

~~~

It’s a chilly night, the black sky above you providing no heat as you head out of the restaurant. You’re cradling your stomach as if you were 8 months pregnant, while one of your arms is wrapped around his. You’re chattering his ears off, but Suguru doesn’t mind. The night felt perfect, he wasn’t sure how it could get any better. 

The two of you are making your way to your parked car, not in a rush. You have all the time in the world. You’re strumming his hand as you talk, only letting go when he pulls your door open for you.

Suguru crosses the car and slides into the driver's seat, not backing out until your seat belt is on. The drive is calming, your windows rolled down to let in the night air as you quietly sing along to the radio.

“Was it a good birthday?” Suguru asks, tossing a look your way before focusing on the road. 

“It was perfect.” You promise, your eyes twinkling.

Suguru starts to think about which gift he wants you to open first.

“Hey Suguru?” You ask.

“Yeah?” Suguru looks up from the wheel to see your face. 

Your brows are furrowed together as you look forward. Something wasn’t right.

“What is that guy doing?” You speak quietly.

Suguru turns his head forward, his foot on the brake as the car sits at a red light. There’s another car in front of you, driving towards you. He isn’t slowing down for the light, and Suguru can feel his pulse pick up. 

“I don’t-“ Suguru starts. 

The driver presses on the gas even harder, his car jerking, now hurdling in your direction. Suguru only has half a second to throw his arm across your front, shoulder covering part of your body.

…

Love makes you do crazy things. 

Love can make you feel unstoppable. 

Love can make you cover your partner in a car accident without a second thought. 

The movies never get it right, Suguru thinks. People always talk about the pain, how much it hurts. But Suguru doesn’t feel pain. He doesn’t feel anything. He wishes it was more accurate, that way he could have been prepared. 

It was loud, so loud. 

Metal on metal, tires screeching. It also smelled. Gas, fire, and burning something. Was it plastic? He had never smelled something so atrocious. Suguru turns his head to locate you and sees you motionless, your beautiful lids fluttered shut. Is that blood? Something’s reflecting on your forehead and he hopes to god it’s not blood. 

He attempts to say your name, but nothing comes out. It’s as if his voice box has been completely removed, leaving a gaping hole in his throat. His fingers twitch as he tries to move to help you. 

Move, move. 

He’s begging his useless body to do something, anything. It’s never cooperated with him, lest of all when he needs it most. 

Suguru thinks he hears yelling. Was that a woman? It’s a voice he’s never heard before, and she’s saying something he can’t quite decipher. His head is spinning as he tries to focus on the voice, but it isn't easy. It's all becoming overwhelming, each of his senses being amplified. The sight and sound alone was enough to leave him breathless.

Red lights. 

Cops. 

No, not cops. 

An ambulance. 

He hopes it’s an ambulance. You really needed one.

Suguru tries to focus as he strains his ears to listen for your breathing. He could feel his eyelids get heavier and heavier, his sheer willpower being the only thing keeping him awake. There’s more tires screeching and the ambulance has arrived, heavy footfalls running to your car. 

Good.

Good.

Help is here.

It would all be alright. 

Everything would be fine.

~~~

When his eyes open, he sees white. He must have been in a hospital, the clinical setting surrounding him. No one was in his room. Not even you. You were in worse shape from what he remembers, so he understands. 

He isn’t in as much pain as he would’ve expected from being in a car accident, but he’s glad. Suguru looks down and wiggles his fingers, then his toes. Good. He isn’t missing anything. He knows you would’ve taken care of him if he was missing something, but he would rather soon die than make you do something like that. 

Suguru sits up and notices he isn’t attached to any monitors, which is odd. He figures he probably didn’t need them though, so he quickly pushes the thought aside. He might as well look for you since he was able. You could have been really hurt, and he wouldn’t have been able to rest until he learned where you were. 

The hospitals halls are a scary place, even for Suguru. He knows many great things happen in hospitals, but there’s also a lot of tragedy too. He tries not to think about all the death as he walks down the halls. There are nurses and doctors pushing past him, paying him no mind. They were busy. He could see it in their droopy eyes as they locate room numbers and run to codings. 

He finds the nurses station and speaks up, finding two women sitting at the desks. 

“Excuse me?” He says. 

Nothing. 

Weird. 

“Uh, I’m looking for someone.” 

Suguru says your name, but neither of them turn to him. 

Okay, maybe they were too engrossed in their conversation. 

His eyes flick down where he sees a chart, and at the very top of the list was your name. Room A93. That wasn’t too far from here. 

He spares them one last glance before turning around to locate your room. His heart flutters (not in the good way) when he gets closer to the door. Could he handle seeing you hooked up to a million monitors? Could he handle seeing other people take care of you? Suguru pushes through it. He needs to see you. He comes to a stop outside your room and hears voices coming from inside, talking to you. 

“And where is Suguru?” He picks up on your voice, the sound instantly warming his heart. 

“He’s… not in good shape.” 

He wasn’t? 

He felt great. 

Suguru pokes his head around the door and finds a tall woman with tanned skin and long dark hair. She must be the doctor. 

“What do you mean?” You ask.

The doctor straightens, tired eyes looking up at you. 

“He was intubated, he lost a lot of blood and sustained a head injury. My team had to put him in a medically induced coma. I actually was coming here to talk to you about whether or not he wanted to be on life support.” 

What? 

“I'm sorry, what are you talking about?” Your body is turned towards her, anticipation leaking from your pores.

“You’re married, aren’t you? I trust that the two of you have gone over it?” 

You haven't looked his way, not even once. 

“Let me see him.” You’re sitting up, wobbling as your frail body attempts to hold you up. 

You don’t see him right now? 

“I'm not sure that’s a good idea.” The doctor comments, her voice heavy as if she knows something you don’t. 

“Please.” 

The doctor softly sighs and dips her head once, acknowledging your desperation. She relents, aiding you in getting up. You can’t do it on the first try, your face wincing in pain as you ease yourself off the bed. The doctor is patient as she helps you, because of course she is.

Suguru follows you to his room, throat dry as he stares at the IV stand in your hands. What was happening? 

“Suguru?” His heart shatters at the way your voice cracks. 

He turns the door and comes to a halt behind you, looking over your shoulder. He was looking at himself. His motionless body was laying in the hospital bed, looking more helpless than he had ever felt in his whole life. 

“What happened?” You ask, your eyes never leaving his bed.

“There was an accident. I was told that he took the brunt of the crash to cover you. He’s not…” The doctor looks anxiously between you and him. “I don’t think he’s going to make it.” 

The room is quiet, eerily so as you process the news the doctor gave you. There’s a steady beeping sound coming from behind his body, the only sign of life. By all accounts, he looked dead. Suguru flicks his eyes up and notices a brain monitor attached to him, but the line was flat. How was that possible? Was he in some space between life and death right now? 

You rip the IV from your arm and run up to the bed, collapsing beside his body. Suguru can see blood begin to pool from your forearm, dark red trickling down your wrist as you force yourself against his bed.

“Suguru! Wake up!” You’re shaking his body, voice trembling and loud as tears begin to fall from your eyes. 

He doesn’t wake up. His useless body doesn’t even flinch.

“You asshole! Wake up!” You’re in hysterics as you shake him, and Suguru feels himself choke on a tear. 

“We need to discuss-“ The doctor starts.

“Don’t do this to me! You gotta wake up!” 

Suguru is beside you now, standing above your crumbled form. You’ve never looked so small before. Your tears are staining the sheets beside his body as you hold his hand, your other arm clawing at his chest. Suguru can’t tell which hurts more, watching himself or looking at you. 

He needs to comfort you. 

He needs to make you smile. 

But he can’t. He can’t do anything. Suguru is forced to stand by your side as you cry until you lose your voice, until all of your words blur together and no one can understand what you’re saying. 

The doctor stays with you the entire time, remaining quiet as you sob. She wanted to comfort you, but she also needed an answer. And the truth of the matter was, Suguru never wanted to be on life support. It was a discussion you had early on in your marriage. He didn't want to be a burden. You respected his decision at the time, never in a million years thinking you would have to uphold his choice.

~~~

It’s raining the day they pull the plug on Suguru. He always did like the rain. It made for perfect nights in with a warm drink and his favorite book. Obviously with you by his side. That’s not what he’s thinking about when he sees the sky the day he dies. All he can think about is how your tears match the droplets, how god must be crying for you. He hated it. You said it was fitting. It was one of the only things you said on that day.

Suguru watches as his body gets whisked away, he told himself he couldn’t watch the embalming process, but when it happens he can’t look away. It felt unreal. His body was cold to the touch, pale as it lay on the metal table. He didn't look real. He watches with curious eyes as they pump him full of fluids in an attempt to immortalize his youth and beauty. He overhears the morticians talking. Not even thirty years old, they mumble. All Suguru can think about is how you weren’t even thirty. The word ‘widow’ was meant for older people whose partners died in natural circumstances, not for someone like yourself. Plump cheeks and a full life ahead of you.

It’s sunny when his funeral is held. He’s glad for that, he dreaded the idea of you waiting out in the cold. You sit in the front with Satoru. Suguru expected you to be a wreck, you were at the hospital after all. But you aren’t. You sit quietly as each person speaks, your chin tucked into your chest. Your eyes are glassy as you listen. You were checked out. He wanted to take a peek into your brain to see what memory you were reliving. Was it the time you both vacationed in the Bahamas? Or was it when you talked for hours about your favorite book? Those were his favorite memories, but he didn't know yours. He never thought to ask before. Now he wouldn’t have the chance to.

You refuse to let anyone help you make it home, I’m fine you said. You weren’t fine. Anyone with a pair of eyes could see that. All the people surrounding you tried to offer words of comfort, promises to help falling from their lips. You wave them off as you set off down the sidewalk towards your apartment. You hadn’t been in a car since the incident.

The second you close your front door you collapse onto your floor, your knees hitting the ground with a hard thud. You let out the most ear piercing wail. Suguru didn’t know people were capable of making noises like that. He didn’t have a body anymore, but he swore he felt chills creep over his skin. 

You keep screaming, and screaming, and screaming. Suguru hears a loud pounding and turns his head to the door. Someone was here. The pounding resumes and he hears his best friend call out, trying to get your attention. You aren’t listening. You don’t care about anything outside these four walls. 

Satoru twists the knob hoping by some miracle it would unlock. Unfortunately, you had the foresight to lock the door before falling to pieces. Satoru relents in using the knob and tries bumping the door with his shoulder. It takes him a couple of tries before it splinters open. He's out of breath as he looks down at your figure. Your crumpled figure. 

Leave it to Satoru to follow you to ensure you got home safely. Suguru tells himself to repay Satoru, buy him that soda he likes, but then he remembers. He will never be able to repay him for anything again. 

He hopes a token of his gratitude is enough. 

You don’t register that Satoru is even there until he’s kneeling beside you, holding your body close to his. You thrash a bit, shoving him back but he doesn’t budge. Satoru takes it all, even though it hurts. 

“Hey, hey, I’m here.” He murmurs quietly to you. 

“He's gone! He's gone!” You’re heaving into the air, letting him rock you back and forth. 

“I know. I know.” 

“He's never coming back, Satoru!” 

You breathe in deeply, your chest sore from the meltdown. 

“Bring him back! Please, please Satoru!” 

Satoru grits his jaw as he holds you tight. It must be hard. Suguru mourns the loss of himself through you. He can feel the pain you’re in, it feels like a forest fire as it claws into him. 

You’re scratching at Satoru, as if you could dig your way back to Suguru.

Suguru has never felt so helpless before. How do you help someone when they’re mourning the loss of the love of their life? How do you console them when they will never see them again? How could he make you feel better? 

He can’t do anything. He's an outsider in his own home, watching the people who were closest to him.

Satoru grips you as you sob, occasionally rocking your frame back and forth. He doesn’t say anything. There really isn't anything to say. The living room quiets down as your screaming becomes sniffling. Suguru doesn’t know how much time has passed. Satoru refuses to let go until he feels your breathing slow down, your body going limp in his hold. 

Satoru never leaves. He just sets you on your bed before making his way to the couch. He looks just as fucked up as you do. Suguru doesn’t think he’s ever seen his friend in such a bad state before. Eyes that had previously been so bright were now dull, his lips tugged down into a deep frown. Satoru slides onto the couch, his eyes shutting the second he makes contact. 

Suguru takes turns watching the two of you sleep. It breaks his heart. Never again will he feel the warmth of your sleeping figure beside him. Never again will he wake up before you to start your breakfast. 

Things are awkward between you and Satoru in the morning. Neither of you know how to approach the subject. 

Satoru is the first to talk. He always was the talker. 

“Good morning.” 

Your eyes flick to him, almost as if you were expecting him to stay the night. Satoru looks uncomfortable, which is a first. 

“I uh, I'm gonna pick up breakfast. Do you want anything?” He goes on.

A moment passes before you speak. When your voice comes out it's brittle, harsh in a way Suguru has never heard before. 

“I'm fine.” 

The hours of screaming must have caught up to you. 

“Yeah, alright.”

Satoru is scratching the back of his neck, a tell that Suguru learned years ago. He has something to say, but doesn’t know how to say it. 

“I really think you should eat something.”

“Satoru.” 

Satoru steps back as if the tone of your voice wounded him. 

“Okay. I’ll back off. I’ll bring back something for you to drink at least.” 

Satoru doesn’t ask so you don’t have the chance to deny him. You watch as he exits your apartment, your gaze fixed on your broken door.

Satoru calls repairmen to handle the door while he’s out. It doesn’t take them long at all to fix the damage he dulled out the prior night. 

When Satoru comes back he has two drinks and two bags in his hands. He bought something for you to eat in the end. Satoru rings the doorbell and waits for you. 

You never come. 

He knows you’re home, because where else would you be? 

He stands there for thirty minutes before he takes the hint that you don’t want to be seen. 

Suguru wishes he could curl up in on himself at the sight of his best friend looking so dejected as he leaves. Satoru was making an effort. Suguru doesn’t blame you though. He never could. If he was in your position, Suguru wouldn’t stop until the whole world around him was burned to the ground, he wouldn’t stop until there was nothing left.

Satoru comes back hours later to drop off dinner and notices that the bag of breakfast he left for you is still in the same place. You hadn’t touched it. He leaves dinner for you as well, hoping by some chance that you’ll actually eat something.

~~~

Satoru stands at your door, a bag in his hands as he tries to keep up a smile. Suguru can tell it’s a hard task, he’s always been able to look right through his best friend. 

It had been two weeks since the funeral, and Satoru has stopped by every single day.

Satoru says your name again, rocking back on his heels. He’s been here for two hours. Suguru knows because he’s seen him check his phone five times. One of your neighbors comes out and greets Satoru, smiling once he gives her attention. The two had been acquainted because he had visited so often. Satoru didn’t mean to seduce the older woman, but it just came with the territory of being a beautiful man. 

“Hey Ms. Nakamoto!”

“Hello sweetie.” 

“I brought you something.” Satoru searches the bag he’s holding and produces a wrapped piece of chocolate. 

Suguru knows Satoru didn’t bring it for her, but that he couldn't bear the thought of not giving her something.

“You’re so kind, Satoru.” Ms. Nakamoto squeezes Satoru’s shoulder before walking off, popping the chocolate in her mouth. 

Satoru watches her leave with a smile plastered on his face. It feels genuine in the same way a waitress's smile is genuine when she’s working.

“Are you gonna let me in?” Satoru calls, resting his shoulder against the door.

You’re standing on the other side of the door, staring into the wood as if you’d be able to see Satoru if you look hard enough. 

Suguru doesn’t understand why would don’t want to see Satoru. 

He wonders if it’s because Satoru reminds you of him. Suguru would understand, the two have always been inseparable. It was never that way for you, though. You never saw Satoru and thought of Suguru in the past. It was one of the many things he liked about you. He felt like he could be his own person around you. He wonders if the lines are blurred now that he was gone.

“I know you’re there.” Satoru says, leaning against his forearm. 

“Why won’t you let me in?” He waits for a moment until you respond. 

“I don’t want to.” 

“I brought snacks.” 

“I don’t care.” 

Suguru’s heart breaks. You look like a mess, your hair was piled on top of your head and you were wearing the same clothes you had been wearing yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that. It was one of Suguru’s shirts, the clothing wrapped around your body as if it was a cocoon. You had been wearing it for so long that the smell of his cologne was starting to fade away. You cried for four hours the night you realized.

Neither of you talk or move for that matter, intent on waiting it out to see who would break first. You have something on your mind, Suguru can tell you’re holding back. 

“Why did he do it?” You ask, your voice muffled through the door. 

You know Suguru as much as Satoru does, but Suguru supposes there’s a sense of relief from the company. 

“You know why he did it. He loved you.” Satoru responds, his voice more level than Suguru had ever heard it. 

“He wouldn’t have been able to stand himself if he didn’t save you.” Satoru finishes. 

You and Satoru both turn around and slide your backs against the door till your butts hit the floor. 

You’re separated by a piece of wood, yet it feels like you’re miles away. Even though you felt so far apart, the two of you were the only ones on the planet who understood each other. 

“He’s selfish.” You say, and Suguru thinks you mean to have a bite to it, but it comes off much more heartbroken. 

“What makes him selfish?” 

“He wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if he let me die, so he’s making me live without him instead. Why didn’t he care that it would hurt me?” You question.

Satoru’s silent as he listens. He’s good at that, although he talks a lot. Suguru is glad you have someone to talk to who listens when you need it.

“I think he did care.” Satoru says, looking at his legs. “He just loved you too much to stop himself.”

“It was my fault, you know.” You start. 

“I was the one who suggested going out.”

Satoru is silent as he listens and Suguru feels like he’s been shot. You were blaming yourself? If Suguru could talk to you, he would reassure you that you had nothing to do with what happened. 

“It wasn’t your fault.” Satoru says, unsure of how else to comfort you. 

Nothing he could say would take the pain away, he was aware of that much. 

Suguru is on your side of the door, watching as your lip starts to tremble. You must be sick of being alone. You slowly stand up and reach for the door, opening it much to Satoru’s surprise. He nearly falls back before hopping to his feet, facing you.

“Do you want to come in?” You ask, knowing the answer.

~~~

Ever since the night you let Satoru in, you welcome him in. Suguru thinks it's nice, watching the two of you talk. He’s glad you’re opening up to someone. It’s not good to keep it all in, and Suguru couldn’t stand the idea of you shutting down completely. 

In the beginning, Satoru would sit on the furthest end of the couch, but over time he slowly inched closer until the two of you were sitting next to each other. It didn't matter what you talked about. It was always different. Usually it was about Suguru. 

“He waited until the sun set and it was dark out. I didn't really understand why. Anyway, he got on one knee and when I turned around he had the ring out.”

“It was because of the people I’m sure. Suguru was a private guy.” 

You’re picking at a loose thread on the couch, quietly listening to Satoru. 

“I helped him pick out the ring, you know. He was so indecisive. There were two options we narrowed it down to, he ended up asking all your friends what they thought you would like more.” 

Suguru sees your shoulders shake and he thinks for a second you’re crying, but when you lift your head up he sees a tiny grin on your face. 

“He’s ridiculous. Would’ve loved anything he got.” 

“I know. He only wanted the best, though.”

Suguru loves to listen to the two of you talk, but he loves the silence you share just as much. Satoru always used to dread silence. Suguru thinks you’re bringing him down to earth. It’s nice. Suguru didn't think it was possible. 

“It’s hard. I can't sleep.” You confess to Satoru late at night.

“Why is that?” Satoru asks, but you know he knows the answer. 

“It’s impossible without him.” 

You aren’t aware, but Suguru is there each time you lay down. Sometimes he’ll lay beside you, but he rarely does. You always get a chill when he tries, so instead he sits across the room, listening to your breathing. He’s always loved the sound, but he finds he appreciates it more so now. 

“If you ever need company, I could spend the night on the couch again.” 

“Really?” 

You’re trying not to sound eager, Suguru can tell. He grins to himself as he watches your face light up. 

“I'd just have to bring over spare clothes, but I can.” 

People on the outside may think that something was blossoming between you and Satoru, but Suguru knew better. Satoru would never cross that line. At times, Suguru almost wished he would. He wanted you to find happiness again. And truly, who better to give it than Satoru? The two were so alike that Suguru knew you would be happy. But you wouldn’t do that to Satoru. You wouldn’t want him to feel like a placeholder. Suguru doesn’t know how Satoru feels, but he knows how you feel enough to be positive that nothing was starting between you. 

Satoru sleeps on your couch that night. Suguru notices it’s the first time you’ve slept through the entire night in weeks. You don’t wake up even once, not even when Suguru slides into bed beside you. 

Suguru keeps his eyes on you the whole night, mesmerized by the features on your face. You were so beautiful. He should’ve told you more often. 

~~~

It was going okay. Suguru thought you were healing. One night you have a terrible nightmare. He watches you in horror as you thrash and scream, wishing he could reach out to touch you. 

“Help! Help!”

Satoru is in your room moments later, holding your body against his. You twitch in his hold, body shaking in fear. Your eyes flutter open and you have to hold onto Satoru for several moments before you understand where you are. 

“It was just a dream.” Satoru speaks quietly to you.

Tears are streaming down your cheeks once you understand what’s happening. You have a tight grip on Satoru’s arms, as if they could keep you from floating away. 

“I was- Suguru, he, we needed,” 

“It was just a dream.” Satoru says once more.

It wasn’t a dream, not really. It was the accident. The scenes were flashing in your brain, plaguing you with memories. Suguru wishes it was a dream. The worst was already over, only now you were left trying to pick up the pieces.

Satoru sleeps on your floor each night afterward. Always beside the bed, ready in case you have another nightmare. No matter what, he never leaves. 

Each time you had a nightmare, Satoru would reach his hand up and squeeze yours, reminding you that the worst part was over. He pretends not to see the scars your fingernails leave in his skin.

~~~

Suguru watches as you experience life. Finding your first gray hair, he was even there when you bought your first new car. They were all things he should have been experiencing with you, if only he was alive. 

If you asked Suguru the day he died if he regretted his decision to cover you in the accident, he would say no in an instant. It was the same now, all these years later. 

You never move on from him, not really at least. There were men that passed through your life, but you never marry again. 

Suguru wanted you to find love again, but you were always more stubborn than he knew what to do with.

And when the time came for you to pass, he was there too. The hospital room didn't feel the same as his did, yours was much more warm and happy. That was what it was supposed to be like when you lived a full life. All of your loved ones gathered around you, crying as they held you. You don’t cry. You’re ready. You’ve been preparing for it for a while now. You have weathered skin and a full heart. You have smile lines now, and Suguru thinks you’ve never looked more perfect. 

Suguru stands by the door, watching as everyone says their goodbyes. He feels tears begin to drip from his eyes. He knows it only means he gets to see you sooner, but he’s mourning your death just as much as he would if he was alive. He wanted you to continue living. You still had so much to experience, Suguru wanted you to have it all. 

The last member of your family leaves the room, but you have one visitor left. The doctor smiles at the visitor before pulling the door closed behind the two of you, giving you privacy. 

“Thank you, darling.” Satoru says, smiling at her. 

The door shuts and Satoru is hobbling over to you, lowering himself down next to your bed. He's in relatively good condition for someone of his age. 

“Hello.” He squeezes your hand, if Suguru looks close enough he can still see the crescent shaped marks caused by your nails on his hands. 

Scars proving your love of Suguru on another man’s body. 

“You’re here.” You speak.

“Of course I’m here.” 

The room is silent as Satoru takes in your presence. The air is heavy, partly from sadness, but also from the memories and love everyone had left you with. You had lived a long life. 

“Are you excited to see him?” Satoru asks. 

You look down and fiddle with your ring, the same ring Suguru had picked out all those years ago. 

“I am.” 

“When you see him tell him I said hi.” Satoru could say much more than that, maybe even a joke from his childhood, but more than anything he just missed his friend.

“I will, I swear.” 

“I can’t believe the two of you are going before me.” Satoru’s messing with you now, Suguru walks closer so he can catch the glint in Satoru’s eyes. 

“Don’t you worry, your time is coming.” You chuckle to yourself. 

“Is that a threat?” Satoru leans in close to you, the act intimate in a way that only appears between friends that have endured years of life together.

“Maybe. I think I’m going to haunt you for the rest of your life.” You tease.

“I hope you do.” Satoru’s tone is heavier as he speaks, a nugget of honesty leaking through. 

“Thank you for being so good to me Satoru, I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you as much as you were there for me.” Regret is dripping from your words.

“I know you’re dying, but have you gone senile? You helped me as much as I helped you.” Satoru looks at you in disbelief. 

It was true. You had helped Satoru. It wasn’t in the same way he helped you, but instead you provided him multiple chances to relive his childhood. That was worth more than anything in the world to Satoru.

Satoru rubs his thumb along your hand. He sits with you through the silence. He's there with you as the doctor comes back in, voice soft as she asks you if you’re ready. You are, you have been for a long time. Satoru holds your hand, he doesn’t leave as the doctor turns off all the technology that’s assisting you in staying alive. 

Suguru would stay, but he has a date he can’t miss.

When you die, everything is empty around you. Your old body is inching by, walking aimlessly. 

“Sweetheart.” A voice like velvet fills your ears.

You whip around, jaw and eyes wide open as you come face to face with the love of your life. 

“Suguru!” You cry. 

Suguru’s smile is relaxed on his face as he walks up to you, embracing you once more. He could finally touch you. He had been dreaming of this moment for years. 

The second his skin hits yours, it's like a ripple effect. Your skin slowly rejuvenates, your body regressing until it resembles what it looked like the night he died. You were young again. 

Suguru holds you for what feels like eternity before you pull away. He tries not to frown, reminding himself that he can touch you again whenever he feels like it now. 

“I missed you!” Your lash line is holding on a thin thread, tears welling up, nearly pouring out. 

Suguru doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t think he can put into words how much he missed you. 

“Oh, and Satoru said-“

“Hi, I know. I heard him.” Suguru reaches a hand up and skims your cheek with his thumb.

He no longer feels cold.

“You heard him? You were there?”

“Of course I was. I always was.” 

Suguru chuckles to himself at the expression on your face. It's a shock, for sure. You had no reason to believe he stayed with you. Suguru could have moved on at any point in time, but he wouldn’t. Not without you by his side.

“I love you.” He says it the same way he used to say it, and you finally break down. 

Tears stream down your face as you pull him in for a kiss. 

“Come on, let’s make up for all the lost time.” Suguru murmurs in your ear, wrapping his arm around yours.

Tag List: @tojislittleprincesss, @dinolvrrr, @kimi01985, @mikisspeak, @sakui1, @reiluvr, @gothicwhore666, @bunviixo

If you would like to be added to my taglist please let me know. Please specify what you want to be tagged in.

[missusqorld]

Yandere girlfriend x fem!reader

Warnings: yandere content/dark content, unhealthy relationships dynamics, power imbalances, reader is implied to be naive and sheltered, manipulation, gaslighting kinda, toxic-ish. DNI if you are a minor. Although this post doesn’t have nsfw themes, this is mature content.

Lucille first fell in love with you the second she laid her eyes one you. It was truly a magically moment for her. Going through the grocery store was always a bore for her. She never really appreciated the mundane things in life. Having been lost in her thoughts, her hand reached out to grab some apples. However, at the same time, your hand had been aimlessly grabbing items while marking stuff off your grocery list. With the two hands bumping into each other, Lucille felt an electric shock. A sharp zap that turned her grey and gloomy life into one with colour. Immediately you begin to apologise to her. However, all Lucille can do is stare at you in awe. Your wide, doe eyes. Your soft complexion and the pink tinge on your cheeks. You looked so beautiful. Her heart was beating faster than it had ever beaten before.

Has she come across an angel?

“Please, take them!!” You offered her the item in your hand. Oh your sweet and melodious voice. She took the apple from you hand, making sure your hands brushed one another again. Oh there her heart goes again. Her face flushed, not knowing what to do.

“Thank you… Have we met before?” She finally was able to get out of her lovesick trance.

-

From that day on, your lives have been intertwined. Whether it be by fate or by someone pulling the strings. An unhealthy infatuation began. Lucille did everything she could to make you both cross paths again. She befriended you. She acted as someone you could trust, someone you could tell your deepest secrets to. It was almost too good to be true. And too good to be true it was. Lucille had finally found something - no, someone to live for. Someone to take care of. Everything in your world all started to get brighter with her around yet also fall apart. Your friends no longer call you or hang out with you. Lucille made sure of that. She manipulated you into thinking they weren’t good enough and were bad influences.

Given that you were rather sheltered and naive. You clung to Lucille crying about how your friends don’t talk to you or how badly they have treated you. Lucille would merely coo at you whilst rubbing your back, giving you small but sweet palm kisses.

Whenever you both did make your relationship official, you could see a shift in her behaviour. She became more protective or should I say: possessive. Every little thing that threatened your relationship was carefully eliminated. That guy in the cafe that was eyeing you up? Gone. The bartender who was not so subtly flirting with you? What bartender? That one annoying friend that thinks your relationship is toxic? Moved away.

Lucille had perfectly found ways to isolate you from people and to get you to rely on her. She carefully crafted a meek, vulnerable darling. Of course you weren’t aware of this having your full trust on her. It was so adorable really.

One day, you came home rather distressed. You cried and cried for what seemed like hours until Lucille arrived. Seeing your red, puffy eyes, Lucille saw red. Who on earth hurt you? How dare they?

“Darling… What’s wrong?” She rushed over to your side. Quickly placing gently pecks on your head to soothe you. She rubbed circles on your back as you cried on her shoulder. Trying your best to calm down, only your sniffles being heard, you spoke: “These men were har-harassing me at w-work and they said these r-really awful things about what they wanted to do with m-me.” You hiccuped out the sentence. Lucille’s face hardened. How dare they make her sweet angel cry?

“Darling, tell me what are their names,” she demanded.

Needless to say she got you to quite your job and also got them fired. Turns out those men harassing you turned up missing on the news. Apparently they all left for a bar late at night and hadn’t return back home. You didn’t need to know what Lucille had done to them. You were too innocent and cute. The cries of the men that hurt you were like music to her ears. As they begged for mercy, Lucille cackled and struck the last blow. She made you completely rely on her. You didn’t need a job anyways. She will provide for you.

All you gotta do is be hers forever.

- umm there will be a continuation maybe

Kinda how I imagine her. Btw got this off picrew <3 much love to the creator hunbloom. 10/10 would recommended

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Everything the Same

When Skies Are Gray, Chapter 2

Series Masterlist           Next Chapter

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary: Frank’s life has reached a crossroads: he can either continue to seclude himself and pursue a dark, lonely future, or he can open himself up to connecting with someone again and maybe achieve happiness. Being the grump that he is, Frank has already committed to the lonely path, but his curious new neighbor might just turn that around. 

warnings: Swearing, mild violence, descriptions of Frank's nightmares, non-graphic depictions of eating disorder (reader doesn't eat much and it's noticed, that's literally it)

a/n: Writing this chapter gave me butterflies. It's very fluffy. Please enjoy. As always, I love comments and feedback!

w/c: 4.4k

As the weeks passed, and as Frank continued to learn more about you, his infatuation only grew. He learned that you had introduced yourself to nearly the whole building at this point. He found out that you would bake cookies for Gladys in 2B every few weeks when her grandchildren visited and that you were a fan-favorite of the young couple on the fifth floor who claimed you were the only person besides themselves who could get their unruly toddler down for a nap. 

Even Reggie, who was quite possibly the only person more crotchety than Frank himself, had a soft spot for you after you’d helped him find his lost cat. 

He wasn’t quite sure how he, a mass murderer, had befriended the manifestation of sunlight, but he couldn’t complain. You kept his pantry stocked with unique and, honestly, sensational pastries and kept his spirits high with your gorgeous laugh and constant smile. The truth was, you were the best thing to happen to him in years and Frank wasn’t prepared to let that go—despite his more rational side desperately asking him to leave you the fuck alone, for both of your sakes. 

He shoved the warning bells aside, once again convincing himself that a simple friendship wouldn’t be too dangerous for either of you. Besides, you seemed to enjoy his company as much as he did yours, which made no sense to him but who was he to question the choices of an angel such as yourself. 

An angel who was endearingly demanding (I’m not demanding, Frank, I’m insisting) that he sit down to have lunch with her and her coworkers after they closed up shop. 

The cafe was quickly becoming a safe haven for Frank, even on days when his mood was especially bitter. Anyone with common sense would be able to determine that you worked here. Everywhere he turned, there were touches that you had clearly added to the cafe. A sensory sensitive area complete with weighted throws and fidget toys, beautiful arrangements of local wildflowers in the windows, soft upbeat music playing from the speakers. 

Once, when he’d gotten there right as the store opened, he’d been lucky enough to catch you singing along. The sight of you dancing through the kitchen, using a wooden spoon as a faux microphone as you belted out the lyrics to the song playing overhead, had carried him through the rest of the week. With the hope that he could bear witness to the event again someday, he’d basked quietly in your glory, making his presence known after you’d finished your performance. 

While your shop served a damn fine cup of coffee, it was your presence and the knowledge that you had purposefully crafted this space for those you cared about that kept him coming back. 

Which is how he found himself being interrogated by your coworkers as you finished up behind the scenes. Frank hadn’t intended to strike up a conversation with the bakery’s other employees, but they seemed overjoyed to share embarrassing stories and tidbits about you, and Frank greedily indulged. Apparently, you baked homemade dog biscuits for the local shelter once a month, which seemed on brand. You had a complicated relationship with your family, but you were close with your siblings. You were loyal and fiercely protective of the people you loved. Every word out of your friends’ mouths made Frank’s heart grow fonder of you. 

“So, Frank,” The flashy one, Leo, smirked at him from across the booth they were currently seated in. 

“Pete.” You corrected from behind the counter as you grabbed food for everyone. Frank had made up some cock and bull story about a rabid ex-girlfriend who was looking for him and asked you to call him Pete in public. A blush crept over his cheeks just thinking about how stupid that sounded after the fact. 

“Sorry, Pete,” Leo corrected. “How did you become friends with our loveable chef here?” 

“My dog broke into her place a while ago. Fell in love with her. Clearly, I had no say in the matter.” He grumbled, smirking a tiny bit as you spun around, hands pinned to your hips, an incredulous look on your face. 

“‘Had no say in the matter’, who was knocking on my door at 11 pm yesterday because he was hungry and I said I was cooking. Sure as shit wasn’t Max.” You huffed, Frank’s sly grin growing. It didn’t take much to work you up but, fuck, if this wasn’t one of the cutest displays of frustration he’d ever seen. 

“He’s a man of good taste, you’re the best cook there is, Princess.” Leo snorted, giving Frank a knowing look. 

Frank’s brow furrowed. “Princess?” 

“It’s the nickname we gave her.” Your grumpy coworker, Stacy, said with little emotion as she plopped down beside Leo. “Because she acts like a damn Disney character.” 

Frank laughed as you started sputtering, trying to dispute the allegations. “You do act like a Disney Princess, sunshine. Is that such a bad thing?” 

You huffed with an exaggerated frown, plopping yourself in the booth beside Frank, who pressed his shoulder to yours in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.

“Oh god, has she even told you about her baby animal acquisition talents?” Leo chuckled at your growing embarrassment. 

Frank barked another laugh, “The fuck does that even mean?”

“It means, that if there is a hurt, scared, or young animal within a 5 mile radius, it will find her.” Stacy had a small smile on her face as she snatched one of the sandwiches you’d set on the table. “I swear, she’s got like a magnetism.” 

“It’s cosmic, really.” Leo agreed, already halfway done with their sandwich. “This one time, she found a hummingbird outside the cafe. Poor thing was wrapped in cobwebs, couldn’t fly. She sits there and meticulously unwraps it, and, after it could fly again, the bird chooses to sit in her lap for like an hour like they were old friends.” 

“People literally approached her on the street once to ask if she could help them rescue baby bunnies. There was a whole mess of people, they chose her.” Stacy pointed out, smirking as you buried your face in your hands. 

Frank nudged you with his hip. “Hey now, don’t be embarrassed. It’s cute.” 

You peeked at him through your fingers. “You really think so?” 

“Yah, sunshine. I do.” 

“Not to mention, your wardrobe is like 100% dresses.” Stacy sniggered, polishing off the food on her plate. 

“And, you are so graceful yet so clumsy.” Leo continued. 

“And—“ You waved a hand, cutting Stacy off. 

“Ok, I think we are done embarrassing me for the day.” Clapping your hands together, you started stacking plates. Frank frowned, seeing the small sandwich you took for yourself remained mostly untouched. 

“Who are we supposed to embarrass then? Pete?” Stacy rolled her eyes. 

“I’d really rather you didn’t. He’s very sweet and I’d hate for you two to scare him off.” You wound your arm around Frank’s much larger one, rubbing it gently. 

“‘M not sweet.” Frank grumped, graciously allowing you to retain a hold on his arm. 

“Aww see!! Look at that grumpy face.” You poked his cheek and he growled softly, still not taking his arm back. Giggling, you squished in closer to him. “Sorry, Pete. I’m just teasin’”

Untangling yourself from him, you got up to take the stack of plates to the kitchen. The loss of contact exposed him to the blasting AC, and the chill made his scowl deepen. 

“Pete,” Your voice rang out from the kitchen. Waltzing back into the front room, you grinned at him, tilting your head with a question. “Walk me home?” 

Basking in your bright glow, Frank forgot how to speak for a second. “Uh, yah. Yah, I can do that, Sunshine.” 

Dutifully turning off the lights and hanging up your apron, you gave a twirl around the counter—giggling at the way your dress spun. 

“Disney. Princess.” Stacy whispered emphatically to Frank, smirking at his wide eyes and forgotten scowl. 

Frank pushed himself up from the booth and opened the door for you. “Thanks, sweetheart.” You squeezed his shoulder before walking through the door. 

The two of you maintained a good pace, as you walked the few blocks back to your apartment building. You were giddily chittering away about new recipes you wanted to try your hand at and, as much as it pained him to admit it, Frank wasn’t listening. At the very start of your trek home, you’d grabbed his hand so that the two of you didn’t get separated in the midday crowds. The heat of your palm against his pushed everything else away. Your skin was unbelievably soft, and your fingers threaded through his as if they were created with his hands in mind.

“Frank?” Your voice broke him out of a daze. He took in his surroundings, blushing when he realized you’d reached your shared building already. He was so gone for you already. You could’ve pulled him across state lines and he would’ve happily let you. 

“Frank? Are you ok?” 

“Uh, yah. Yah I’m ok. Just tired.” 

Your pristine brow furrowed and his heart sank, hands longing to cradle your face and smooth the crease that had settled on it. “You’re tired? Did my friends and I wear you out? I’m so sorry!” You’d taken both of his hands now and he had to focus a significant amount on the words he was forming. 

“Nah, I just don’t sleep well. It ain’t your fault.” He shrugged, noticing how small your hands looked around his. You squeezed his hands gently, prompting him to meet your concerned gaze once more. 

“You sure you’re ok? I know that I can drain people’s energy—“ 

Frank drew one hand out of your grasp, nestling it against your jaw. “I’m ok. You—you make me happier than anyone has in…a long time. If people make you feel like you’re exhausting, find new people, yah?” 

You chuckled, averting your eyes but leaning into his tender hold. “Yah. Ok, Frankie.” 

“C’mon. Let’s get you home, darlin’.” 

Hours later, a shrill ringtone pierced Frank’s tranquility. Tossing his book aside in a huff, he picked up the call. 

“What do ya want, Curt?” Frank's voice had more of an edge than it should have, but the thought of Curtis and David gossiping about his shitty moods was enough to push him into one. 

“Damn, nice to hear from you too. Didn’t see you lurking at group today, wanted to check in and make sure you hadn’t gone and gotten yourself killed.” The man on the other line sounded equally annoyed. 

“Unfortunately, I am still breathing. That all ya needed?” 

“Christ, Frank. You’re making it really hard to want to be your friend, you know that?” 

Frank sighed. “‘M sorry, Curt. I’m ok. Promise. Not holin’ myself up in my apartment or anythin’. I know it ain’t easy stickin’ with me.”

“It’s all good. Come to group next week, will ya? I know it’ll be…tougher than usual. I’m here for you, don’t forget that.” 

“I appreciate it, man. I—yah, I’ll be there.”

“Good. Seeing your ugly mug will make me feel better before my date.” 

“She didn’t dump your ass yet? You're treadin’ water, man.” Frank chuckled. 

“Yah, yah. I don’t know, Frank. She makes me happy. That’s what it’s all about, you know?”

Frank smiled to himself, hearing your giggles somewhere in the back of his mind. “Yah. That’s great, Curt. ‘M happy for ya.” 

“Thanks, Frank. See you next week then?” 

“Yah. I’ll be there. Bye, Curt.” 

She makes me happy. His friend’s words echoed in his ears. Before he could set his phone aside, an idea formed. He swallowed his nerves and dialed the number. 

Curled up under a blanket on your overly squishy couch, you could feel your eyelids growing heavy as you tried to focus your attention on the screen in front of you. 

Reruns of some 90s sitcom flashed past your glazed eyes. You were tired, but it was barely 7 pm! Letting your head fall against the arm of the couch with a dull thunk, you chided yourself. You knew exactly why you were exhausted at this early hour. The stress of the move a few weeks ago combined with your recent family visits had pushed you backwards into old, less healthy habits. God, you needed to eat something, but your stomach remained silent. 

You rubbed a hand over your eyes, pulling out your phone to stimulate your brain further. Your heart did a somersault as you noticed the text waiting unanswered on your screen. 

Frank: Hey, I ordered too much pizza. You hungry? 

Well, wasn’t that a wonderful offering from the universe. Grinning, you swiped open your phone and typed out a response. 

You: I could eat. If the offer still stands, of course. 

It didn’t take long for another message to pop up. 

Frank: The offer always stands for you, sunshine. 

With a giggle, you lifted yourself from the couch, running out the door and down the hall to rap your knuckles gently on Frank’s door. 

Though you and Frank hung out pretty much daily now, this would be the first time you’d hung out at his apartment. Not that you hadn’t seen it before, he often invited you along on walks with him and Max, but you were eager to really take the place in. A person’s living space can tell you so much about them—and you were dying to learn more about the beautiful, grumpy person living next door to you. 

As if your train of thought had summoned the very man, you heard heavy footfalls quickly pacing before the door opened. Frank’s face was ruggedly handsome. Deep brown eyes that always seemed to be observing above a crooked nose and a magnificent jawline beneath a thick beard. His wavy dark hair was growing longer by the day and you longed to run your fingers through it, to see if it was as soft as you imagined. 

Currently, the sea of black strands was hanging loosely around his face after a day of living whatever life it was that Frank lived. When his gorgeous ochre eyes settled on yours, his expression softened which made your heart sing. Your excitement quickly drifted south as his gaze roamed over your body. Before you could dwell on that fact too much, a scoff-like laugh startled you from the daydream. 

“All dressed up for me, are ya Princess?” Frank’s lips were barely upturned but his expression was impressively smug. 

Looking down at your outfit with a frown, you pulled at the hem of your oversized crew neck which nearly covered the soft cotton shorts you wore. 

“Hey! When you invite me over after business hours, you get what you get. I wanted to be comfortable!” Your frown became a dramatic pout. 

Frank laughed harder. It was impossible to take you seriously when you were so goddamn cute. 

“You know what, I’ve changed my mind. I’ll order my own pizza.” You huffed, sticking your nose into the air. 

As you turned to go, a calloused hand shot out to grasp your wrist. 

“I’m just kiddin’, sunshine. You look beautiful, as always.” Staring into his eyes, you felt heat creeping up your neck as you realized the compliment was genuine. Pushing away the embarrassment that always overtook you when someone commented on your looks, you rolled your eyes. 

“Sure, sure. Bet you say that to all the girls, Castle.” 

The amusement fell from the large man’s expression. Frank tugged your wrist gently, drawing your body into his with ease. His free hand came up to cup your cheek, his eyes boring into yours with an intensity you hadn’t seen from him before. “I mean it. You’re beautiful, honey. Amazes me every damn day, hand to God.” 

Taking in a sharp breath, you swallowed the lump of emotion in your throat. “Thank you, Frank. That, uh, you don’t know how much that means to me.” 

Frank’s porcelain skin darkened with a blush. “‘S the truth.” Clearing his throat, he stepped backwards into the apartment, gesturing for you to come in. 

You curtsied clumsily, grinning at him. “Why thank you, my liege.” 

Smile returning to his eyes, he shook his head as you nearly tripped with the action. “Christ, sit down before you break somethin’, ya goof.” 

You giggled, happily taking his hand as he helped you sit down on the couch without incident. Breathing deeply, your smile widened at the sight of a scented candle on Frank’s mantle. Stifling another giggle, you let your gaze drift over the space in front of you, absorbing every detail you could about your new friend. 

The room was simple: very few decorations, only necessary furniture. That much was not a surprise, the emptiness of Frank’s apartment was apparent to anyone who caught half a glance past the doorway. Once inside, though, you noticed the details that made this apartment so vividly Frank that you couldn’t help but explore a little. 

There were very few pictures in the apartment, but two frames stood next to the burning candle above the fireplace. One was the smiling faces of two children, a boy and a girl, laughing openly at something behind the camera lens. The next was the same kids seated in front of a beautiful woman on a picnic in a park. The woman was smiling at the camera while the kids looked off to the side. 

Gingerly brushing a finger over the frame, you found your thoughts wandering. Frank didn’t talk much about his family, but two weeks ago you’d noticed the ring hung around his neck. It didn’t take much time for you to piece together who he was, the name “Frank Castle” was nearly impossible to find on the internet these days (someone very dedicated had taken up the task of clearing this man from the digital world), but you’d lived just outside of the Kitchen when his trial was the only thing everyone wanted to talk about. Though your curiosity grew by the day, you tried to respect his privacy by not digging into his history. 

His hesitation to talk about it was enough to signal to you that his memories were not all positive, so you hadn’t pushed—hoping that he’d feel comfortable enough to share his experiences with you on his own terms. The world had taken so much from Frank Castle, the least you could give him was his autonomy. 

Moving on from the photos, you shook your head to clear the images of Frank facing all of these horrors alone. You’d do your best to keep him company going forward. 

Hidden in an alcove near his bedroom was a beautifully crafted mahogany bookshelf, practically bursting with novels. Walking over to the magnificent piece, you began running your fingers over the worn spines of books by Steinbeck, Fitzgerald, Hemingway, and the like. But, what stood out to you was the substantial collection of feminist novels and volumes of collected poetry. 

You heard a deep rumble behind you. “Ya gonna eat anythin’ or are ya too busy snoopin’?” Frank’s exaggerated grouse made you chuckle. His large hands balanced a pizza box and two beers. 

“I absolutely had you pegged as a ‘classic lit’ fan, but bell hooks?” You looked at him inquisitively, prying the beers from his hand and plopping yourself back on his worn couch. 

Frank simply shrugged, setting the pizza in front of the two of you. “She’s gotta different perspective than me. Sometimes it’s necessary to think about someone else’s view of the world, I guess.” 

“I absolutely agree. Talking Back is one of my favorites.” You smiled at him, heart spinning as you noticed a blush creeping up past his beard. 

Frank forced his mouth back into a scowl, refusing to dwell on the way his chest lightened after you expressed your approval for some of his more “controversial” literature. Throwing open the top of the pizza box, he snatched a piece and shoved it in his mouth to avoid looking at you. 

“You know, Frank, I’m starting to think you might have ordered this pizza for me, specifically. I seem to recall raving about the #3 from Capizzi when we passed the building last week.” You raised an eyebrow at him before grabbing a slice, closing your eyes as you practically inhaled it. 

Opening a beer, Frank didn’t turn to face you. “Dunno what you’re talking about.” 

“Aww, you like me, don’t ya, sweetheart.” You poked Frank’s shoulder, making him growl. Giggling once again at his persistent grouchiness, you snatched another slice of pizza. “Don’t be embarrassed, I like you too.” 

Frank refrained from smiling, eyes glancing towards you as you ate happily beside him. He was goddamn relieved that you’d accepted his offer. Not just because it meant he got to bask in your presence yet again, but also because there was no way the few bites of sandwich he’d seen you eat earlier was enough to satisfy your gorgeous self. He wasn’t quite sure why you ate so little, but he’d be damned if you starved on his watch. 

Startling slightly as your thigh pressed against his, he heard your melodic voice prompt him yet again. “Which classic author have you enjoyed the most?” 

“Dunno. Depends on the day. Recently, I’ve liked Hemingway. But he’s—dark.” Frank’s brow furrowed, worried that his honesty would reveal his demons and scare you away. 

“Makes sense that you’d like him then, you grumpy Gus.” You snorted, beaming at him as he rolled his eyes. “Just teasing. He’s a great author, despite the blatant sexism. Hills Like White Elephants is an incredible piece. It was on my mind for weeks the first time I read it.” 

“Not familiar with that one.” 

“It’s one of his short stories, just a little thing about a woman being ‘persuaded’ into an abortion. Definitely not the best pro-choice stance, but the symbolism is unique and it comments on an interesting dynamic of some relationships. It’s one of the only stories I actually remember from school, besides The Yellow Wallpaper. That one I can never forget.” You shuddered, turning your attention back to your pizza. 

“Don’t think I’ve read that one, either.”

“Oh Frankie, you have to read it. It’s dark as fuck…you’ll love it.” You grinned at him slyly, making him smirk. 

“You really are somethin’, ya know that?” Crossing his arms, Frank raised a brow as you cackled gleefully. 

“So I’ve been told. Someone’s gotta be a pain in your prickly ass, though.” You let your head fall against his shoulder, looking deep into his eyes. 

Stomach flipping at your affection, he gave into impulse and rested his forehead against the crown of your pretty head. “Better you than anyone else, sunshine.” 

He could feel your brow pinch as your nose scrunched with a smile. Your soft lips pressed a kiss to his shoulder before you pulled away. “Seriously though, you have to read that one. It’s such a mind fuck. I swear I still have nightmares about it.” 

Frank let out a breath, body melding into his mattress. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, you were easing the day to day pain he had grown accustomed to. You’d stumbled into his life on a whim and he was holding onto you for dear life. 

Though very few people had ever seen it, Frank’s loyalty meant he fell for people hard. The pain of losing his family made it easier to push people away, to shelter that part of himself, but you’d scaled those walls without breaking a sweat. You were pure sunshine, golden and heavenly, bringing life and love to those around you. He just hoped that he wasn’t the Hades to your Persephone. 

Falling asleep that night should not have been as easy as it was, but your presence had soothed his nerves. Breathing deeply, he replayed the sound of your laughter in his head until he drifted off to the image of your smile painted on his eyelids. 

Unfortunately, the peace you'd shrouded his apartment in was shattered by his subconscious. 

The nightmare started the same as always. A hazy view of his bedroom, lit by the sun shining through large windows. As he opens his eyes, there’s a figure in the doorway. She’s slender with dark hair and as she steps closer, her face sparks recognition. Maria. 

His late wife climbs into bed, pressing kisses to his limbs. He feels his body startle awake as his eyes settle on her smiling face. 

But it’s no longer Maria. 

Sitting in his lap, grinning back at him beautifully is you, his adorably kind neighbor. 

“Hey, sleepyhead.” It’s your voice, not Maria’s, that makes him shudder with the familiar phrase. Before the dream can continue, the setting morphs. 

You’re in front of him, chained up like one of his Cerberus targets, blindfolded and gagged—struggling ferociously against your restraints. 

He hears his voice echoing across the cavernous space. Trying desperately to calm you while fighting his own shackles. 

“It’s ok, darlin’, it’ll be ok. I’m right here. Right here, babygirl.”

A malicious laugh washes over him and you go eerily still, tears streaming silently down your cheeks. A figure rounds your taut limbs, hand wandering over your figure. Frank growls, pulling with all of his strength. 

“Leave her alone, you son of a bitch, or so help me I’ll—“

“You’ll what?” Billy Russo’s torn up face stares back at him, eyes glinting with power and rage. “Hmm she sure is a gorgeous little pet, isn’t she? How the hell did she end up with a monster like you?” Billy’s marred hand rubs your jaw making you whimper. He tugs off the fabric covering your eyes and they immediately fall on Frank, more tears cascading over your pretty face. Next to come off is the gag and you choke out a sob. 

“Go on, sweetheart. Ask him to save you.” Billy smirks, looking between the two of you. 

“Frank,” Your voice is hoarse and it kills him to hear such pain in it. “Frank, please! Please help me!” 

A cold steel barrel presses to your temple. Billy’s fingers flex over the trigger as he tilts his head toward you in false sympathy. “Sorry, little pet, but he can’t help you. It’s his fault you’re dead.” A gunshot rings out and Frank screams, eyes ripping open as his body rapidly separates from sleep. 

The nightmare replayed in his mind over and over the first night, your desperate pleas for help, the feeling of your warm blood spattering across Frank’s face. His mind’s manifestation of his former brother was right, he was going to get you killed. But the thought of pushing you away was just as hurtful. 

He was so fucked. 

Tag list: @cheshirecat484 @xxdrixx @smhnxdiii @mattmurdocksstarlight

[bookswithsyd]

The Perfect Mix of Degen and Adorable | My Dress Up Darling

So have you ever wanted to watch something that was so wholesome you wish you could experience it, and then in the same breath, it turns into something that would make you slam your laptop shut if someone walked in the room? Well today, we might be looking at the perfect anime for you!

My Dress Up Darling is one of my most recently finished anime and it acted as a cleanse between watching Game of Thrones: House of the Dragons and Oshi no Ko. I needed a sweet slice-of-life between two intense shows, and I had this anime on my planning for months, so it was the obvious choice.

What you need to know

Before diving into the show, I knew that cosplay was the main focus and that the relationship between the main boy and girl had great development.

A short synopsis of season 1 is that two high school students find out about each other’s hidden passion. One being crafting hina dolls, and the other being cosplaying her favorite degenerate characters.

After joining forces to create a handcrafted cosplay, Gojo and Marin become friends while struggling through the cosplay-making process. The journey to the first outfit is filled with fumbling and a lot of blushing.

Instead of going the route of the girl putting herself in compromising positions and the guy taking advantage of her, we see Gojo struggling to get out of these risque situations that Marin has put him in. The whole thing is very sweet, the innocent relationship between them feels refreshing to watch.

When described so bare bones, someone who hasn’t watched the show might wonder where my title is coming from. Well, from episode one, the show is filled with scene upon scene of Gojo being put into an awkward position because of Marin’s obliviousness. The second-hand embarrassment can be felt through the screen watching these episodes because Marin will just start stripping her clothes to change into a cosplay she wants to show off, or strip off her clothes only to display a bathing suit because her measurements need to be taken, or ask to help be stripped because it’s so hot her boobs are gonna pop out of her boob bag! All of these things are never done with sexual intent behind them, but boy does that not matter to poor Gojo, who is a blushing mess each time this happens and tries to adjust to the situation.

Scenes might be awkward to watch because of Marin’s airheaded moments, but they are always funny, there is never a moment where the viewer will get uncomfortable because the scene is taking a weird turn. The dynamic between the two always stays very light-hearted throughout most of the show.

My Thoughts on the Anime

This anime was one that I wanted to get into since I saw the covers of the manga. The art style and colors on the cover really grabbed me and I thought Marin’s design was so beautiful, it took a lot longer to finally watch the anime than intended, but I am really happy that I got to that point without any spoilers.

I love cosplay, so this show really focusing on crafting the cosplay outfits and showcasing Marin’s passion for wanting to become her favorite characters made this show a joy to watch. The whole first season was so well crafted that I really want to see what’s in store for season 2.

Between Gojo’s passion for creating clothing and Marin’s passion for cosplaying, these two are the perfect match. The pacing is perfect, instead of either character wanting to jump into anything more than friendship, we get to see them become close as friends and get to know each other. Their feelings seem to develop naturally and it is actually believable.

Who would I recommend this anime to?

I would recommend it to anyone who wants to watch a show that you can make fun of. Each episode has moments that will have you laughing because of the blatant sexual framing of the characters and Gojo's struggle to not have a breakdown. There are really sweet moments throughout the show, Gojo helps not only Marin, but others who want to upgrade their cosplay outfits. By the end, the main group shows that no matter what social circle you are in, if you have a common interest, it can bring people together.

It's just the perfect blend of wholesome friendships sprinkled in with glimpses of degeneracy.

[recipes-of-the-ancients]

Welcome to our humble store of recipes!

Each recipe scroll costs 3 gold unless otherwise specified. We got weapons, food, and much mo—

Just cut to the chase!

[Yeah! This post already got deleted once and because we wrote too much. BOOM! All progress gone!]

…Wha?

[I said that out-loud, didn’t I? Yeah.. I’m just gonna… go… PEACE!]

*Ooc’s corporeal form disappears*

Well that was weird… anyways, alright fine. Let’s introduce ourselves!

I’m Craft! I’m they/them, and Bi! I quite like making stuff and uncovering secrets! That’s the entire reason I started this shop! To spread the joy of crafting and the ancients’ brilliance!

Wow! BOOORING!

Says the person who kills for fun! You’re obviously going to find crafting boring!

I’m Blue! I’m AroAce, and am she/him! I don’t really care about anything at all… but if you hurt anyone of us, you won’t awake in the morning (unless you only hurt red)… oh and I love cupcakes!

What did you just say about me?

Yea I said it! You suck! What you gonna do ’bout it? … I though so!

I’m Pink! ^w^ -I’n she/her, trans, and lezbian! I wuv efwewun! I wuv u AW! <3 -… Egcept u Rewd. U big ol MEANIE! 3:<

I hate you all! You IDIOTS!

And we aw hat U too!

Ahem! Anyways, I’m RED. I’m STRAIGHT and a NORMAL MAN! UNLIKE YOU ALL WEIRDOS! When I take over, THINGS WILL BE A-LOT DIFFERENT! F YOU ALL!

F you too, Red.

Anyways, now that we introduced ourselves, let’s tell them the tags!

Tags:

#consumable-items The recipe yields an edible item! Want food? Drink? Get the necessary items, recipe, and make it! DOES IT INCLUDE CUPCAKES??? Yes, Blue, yes… if the ancie— YAAAAA—

#combat-items This recipe makes something that aids in combat! Doesn’t have to be a weapon, as long it does something to help with combat! Oh hoh ho! This’ll certainly aid in my takeo— NO RED! BAD! IF I CATCH YOU ANYWHERE NEAR THESE RECIP—

#building-material These recipes make something that: A. Helps you build your base; or B. Something that goes into another recipe. Personally, my favorite, just because I love making stuff!

#misc-item any recipe that creates an item that does not fall into any other categories! Pewsonawwy my fafowit wun! I wuv diffewen stuff! :3 -You love everything though. No! Just efwewun! Not efweting! VwV

#error-404 Recipes that create any strange results. Could be incomplete! I don’t know for sure though. And we can all agree that it unsettles us, including Red! Right? Ashamedly yes, yes it does.

#user-submission A user (like you) dug up/asked for a recipe and brought it to our humble shop! I will award you with 6 gold if you submit one of these! Or a user just talks to us/asks for a recipe.

Ooc// The following tags they do not know about and thus I will be talking about them:

#not-a-recipe pretty self explanatory, it’s not a recipe!

Character speaks

#red-speaks The character named Red speaks.

#craft-speaks The character named Craft speaks.

#blue-speaks The character named Blue speaks.

#pink-speaks The character named Pink speaks.

#everyone-speaks Everyone (not including others unless accompanied by the next two tags), speaks.

#ooc-speaks I speak! Most of the time the characters are not aware of my presence, but sometimes they are!

#???-speaks An unknown character at the time of the post speaks.

Miscellaneous tags

#character-ramblings A character talks to themself and it’s just them in the post.

#interactions They (or I) interact with another blog!

#non-cannon Pretty self explanatory. The post isn’t canon!

#joke-post The post is a joke and nothing more. Will have the #non-cannon tag along with it.

#lore-post a post that is all about lore

By the way, if you see a color without bold, they are mentioning a character with a specific color assigned. If it’s a color WITH bold, the character denoted by that color is speaking (unless it’s Craft’s, unless they are saying something with another colored character, they will be regular text)

Also, my main blog is @duoversal, just FYI.

[kibbits]

The kid dressed up as the boys makes me so soft because!!! It’s just another example of their effect on others. In the beginning of their return to the stage, Sun and Moon’s diy props, one of the only things they could truly call their own, would lead many a parent to scoff, but the kids. They watch in wonder, amazement, and terror as plain items they too have created with, transform into swords and shields, flames and broken buildings, monsters with thousands of teeth and staff bots as thankful villagers. Compared to the sea of kids most likely in prepackaged costumes of the glam rocks, these few kids in crude paper masks, dollar store glow-in-the-dark stars, headbands of cardboard spikes don’t seem special. But the drive to create, to bring life to ordinary objects, to see the magic in the smallest things, that, that is what makes them special. The boys are worthy of that effort. To see the brightened faces of kids scurrying towards them in painted faces, lives they’ve touched and have and will remember them in fondness. Y/N may have been the first, but these kids will make sure that the boys will never be forgotten in the dark ever again.

- ✨Starry✨

WAUGH! Hi I'm crying ; w ; That's it, that's really it!!! It's make-believe, right there on stage! In a way, it makes the shows MORE accessible/relatable to kids!

AA and you put it so beautifully! (I'll admit, the paper plate mask was just cause i remembered my first costumes being like this fdlkdj I home-made a Marsupilami costume with a 7ft long tail and people kept asking if i was a jaguar and tiny me was so so mad pff)

But yes oh my god, I hadn't even thought about it this way but! The kids!! The glamrocks' stuff is popular and mass-produced, and it's sweet to see all the mini glamrocks running around - or even day-to-day seeing the kids insist on wearing their fave's colors, of course...

And then in comparison, tiny kids in home-made costumes that are sometimes barely recognizable (omg who remembers making cardboard halloween costumes. So much glitter and construction paper and pipe cleaners. Face makeup smeared on the sleeves cause it got itchy) but also obviously made with a lot of love and effort and they wear them so proudly WOUGH.

The props might look cheap to the adults, at least from up close, but to kids, you don't even need a sword as long as you move like you have one. (Aah, fondly remembering all the stick fights, and playground rules like if you say you have magic you have it, and that time a tree got knocked down and it was a 'dragon corpse' and a 'cliff' for a month before it got picked up)

And they DO get pretty good at crafting things! And YN has made their own LARP (real-life role playing. You make your costumes and props and go spend a weekend/camp in-character!) costumes, or cosplays, and the boys are fast learners

Wah them seeing the first few fans wearing homemade stuff, then more - sometimes fans that are a little older and get crafty, or repeat audience comes in with like those closet cosplays or props. So cute!!

Thank you for the ask!! It's gonna live rent free in my head for a while now ; w ;

[troglobite]

lkjaslkdfj

my plan was to do all my game planning and then take a shower before dinner

i ate dinner at 11 pm and i worked for 6-7 hours before that doing fucking game planning

which involved

writing around the base knowledge of 2 professors at the fictional university that i had directed a player towards for conversations about complex questions about interplanar issues and a patient at the clinic her character works at--all so that she could ask them any questions on the topic and i would have a good idea of their answers, viewpoints, and responses

rereading my own notes from: a 3 page nat 20 investigation check into a public records office for a player from like 3 months ago, conversation notes and prep for like 3 different NPCs a player spoke with from previous sessions, worldbuilding information including the global-since-the-beginning-of-time timeline to fact check myself about some details, the world knowledge doc i gave to one player to make sure the information i was crafting for tomorrow aligned--and i'm sure more.

attempting to research the hierarchical (or non-hierarchical) structures of various irl world religions, finding it utterly futile, and ultimately resorting to attempting to craft religious formations out of thin air and some word association for some of the 24 extant deities in my world, all in case any players want or need to speak w someone from those faiths

trying to find more information about fair pricing for items in the game and making a mental note about which prices i'm going to change/scale because common, uncommon, rare, etc. are just not good signifiers of price

oh right i also had to reread my notes from a previous session where i built an entire holiday festival for them with a shitload of booths and shops they never even went to--including a series of like 12 trivia questions about the world for a trivia game they could've played but didn't, which i had spent hours writing on the off-chance it came up and to help them get more engaged w the world at large. i reread it for the bits of trivia i had to fact check myself, and ALSO bc there were shops in there they never visited. and i had to have at least one shop for them to visit.

they asked for "armor upgrades" and the only specific i was given by one player was the most overpowered underpriced set of armor from the most obscure fucking source book that i immediately had to say no to, and then i got no other specifics, so i just have to be prepared to figure out an enchantment and various issues w it at the fucking table

i created 2 NPCs who are students at the school w them who are entirely different people but are known for doing discounted work enchanting and making armor and weapons, which, given their current funds of like 1.5k gold, is really their only option. (i still included the official store i made for the festival, because the player who didn't tell me anything she wanted until THIS FUCKING AFTERNOON just said "armor" and nothing else i'm going to scream, have fun finding out how fucking expensive everything is)

creating a timeline for the aftermath at the major library and the 7 campus's archives (mainly just the central one) to figure out its status right now, since it had innumerable volumes and manuscripts stolen in the attack on the festival that happened in-game during a session. this basically resulted in me making things chaotic and having to figure out what sections are missing a lot of texts and which aren't.

creating a timeline and current status of the aftermath of the attacks on government officials and civil servants that also happened at that attack on the festival--which involved figuring shit out for like 6 different fucking cities and summarizing newspaper blurbs on the off-chance anyone asks about that shit in-game.

coming up w multiple sections of this GIANT library that would exist in this fictional world, then figuring out which texts from those sections were stolen, and then figuring out which ones were left that fit the "false god sightings" research "question" i was given by my player literally this fucking afternoon even though she knew she wanted to do this FOR OVER A FUCKING MONTH AND COULD'VE TOLD ME ANY OF THE 7 TIMES I ASKED HER ABOUT IT.

writing summaries and overviews of multiple texts in these sections, and making sure i have my bases covered in case she asks particular specific questions. praying and begging and pleading that she doesn't ask anything too far out of left field where i can't just say "sorry you don't find anything bc the librarians and archivists are all busy right now and that section is basically empty"

making notes for a possible conversation for that player w her aasimar celestial partner/guide.

all of that alone for that one player amounted to over 1800 words written. just for her.

scrambling to come up w some quick things for the fifth player in case she shows up completely fucking unannounced

finishing planning the ENTIRE CITY that they're going to go to

developing and fleshing out (as much as i could) the NPC who's going to be their point person on this mission

developing and fleshing out the very beginning of their mission so that they can be given some information but not all of it, because i'm going to end the session at a particular moment to give myself at least 2 more weeks before i have to have the entire in-game class trip fully planned out

making an entire playlist for this new city

things i did not manage to do

shower

make a list of the important things we need to discuss in my Checkpoint/Check-in Conversation that i'm going to make everyone have tomorrow before the game begins

also this does not included mentally preparing to instead start at 12 and not 1 because one player hates two of the other players so much that she refuses to roleplay in front of them until she gets back in the swing of things.

she was going to just not roleplay things that i have had planned for like three fucking months and that are NARRATIVELY IMPORTANT BECAUSE THEY ALL ASKED FOR A FUCKING OVERARCHING CAMPAIGN PLOT AND A NOT A MONSTER OF THE WEEK STYLE CAMPAIGN

but when i PRESSED and was like this actually HAS to happen in roleplay, so just come early, please

that's happening instead

so now i've shifted up my timeline

except that my health has been in shambles. i'm not going to bother getting into the stupid fucking details of it all.

so today i woke up, ate some food, Nearly Fucking Perished, and then had to nap it off. by the time i was able to get up and start working, it was like 4. i was working until 11. at which point i finally ate dinner and we watched the last two episodes of season one of big door prize (which btw is REALLY good, highly recommend, it's v interesting).

and now it's 2:30

i'm too tired to shower right now

which means i have to get up even earlier than i normally would, bc showering for me is like an hour long process bc again my body is FUCKING STUPID.

and this isn't even counting the like 3 hours??? or more? i did of gameplanning yesterday

and i couldn't do anything earlier this week

bc only two players had confirmed they could make it to the game on sunday/tomorrow EVEN THOUGH EVERYBODY HAD AGREED TO THAT DATE AND TIME PREVIOUSLY

and on top of that i spent monday cleaning for eight hours straight to the detriment of my physical fucking health so i need two full days to recover

and then, i had done like an hour of brainstorming a week ago or something to have an outline of the class session

bc that was all i could

bc even though i asked everyone three fucking times to tell me what they wanted to accomplish in the game (bc the format is odd! they're in miss frizzle's class which meets once a week! they're at a school! this is not a traditional campaign format w a party system that travels together all the time! there is downtime! they can DO THINGS!!! APART FROM EACH OTHER!!!) and to tell me what they wanted to buy

nobody told me anything until like wednesday this week

1 player and i had already talked about it at the beginning of may bc we were SUPPOSED to have a session on the 20th that she couldn't be at. she is, so far, the only responsible player--and yet, still waffles around her boundaries and comfort in a way that makes me Insane--and is the one i'm like 'yes i would co-dm with you, that sounds awesome' and i genuinely think it would be.

so i had 2-3 days to prepare this entire game session

and it's still not really done

and things are STILL up in the air

and i'm just like. shaking with anxiety tremors right now.

i love the city i built for this upcoming class trip of theirs.

i love the idea i've made for their trip and the encounters and everything, even though basically nothing is fully fleshed out (except for the city's structure and like, the Context for the trip)

i love making a rich world that, hopefully, feels tangible and fun and interesting

i'm excited abt the overarching plot they specifically asked me to make

but i am so fucking tired of doing work I AM NOT BEING PAID FOR to the detriment of my own health for people who will not fucking communicate with me

the player who didn't tell me anything she wanted to do until THIS AFTERNOON when i EXPLICITLY asked for information NO LATER THAN FRIDAY NIGHT? and then her information was "armor" and "i want to research false god sightings" which necessitated the library shit the book shit and the city government officials shit.

she APPARENTLY--despite saying 2 weeks ago that she would be "free all day" to play--was going to HAVE TO FUCKING WORK tomorrow and DIDN'T TELL ME THIS. AT ANY POINT. IN THE LAST TWO WEEKS.

AND TOLD ME YESTERDAY THAT SHE ENDED UP NOT HAVING TO WORK

WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU NOT TELL ME THAT?!?!?!

and now i have to fucking write a list of everything that i need to cover and ask them and to clarify about the fucking game and all this shit

bc the sheer amount of disrespect--or rather, the COMPLETE LACK of consideration for me and my time and my work on this--

is fucking killing me.

i volunteered to do this bc we all agreed it would be fun

we had a session zero to cover all of this kind of shit

and it's just. like. wow. okay. so that didn't mean fucking anything.

and we have to talk about player boundaries as well.

bc even though LITERALLY ALL OF THEM ENTHUSIASTICALLY AGREED TO PC AND NPC ROMANCE POTENTIAL

one player has entered a possible romance (that began w what the PC was a one night stand) and one particular player (the one who apparently was possibly gonna have to work/couldn't make it to the game and didn't tell me anything she wanted until less than 24 hours before the fucking game) made a whole fucking fuss about how "gross" it was to hear us "be so explicit" about the sex

she's a lesbian who gleefully makes pussy jokes all the fucking time

but two queer men in the game (the player is not a man, but her character is) have sex and we make vague jokes about it and that apparently is too gross for her.

i tried addressing it in the moment when it happened

i literally sent them a 4 question form for the session zero (which btw they didn't fucking fill out until the last fucking minute)

one of those questions was about things they absolutely 100% did not want described in detail or included in the game

you know what wasn't on there?

sex jokes and vague descriptions about characters and their sex lives

what the FUCK is the point of a session zero if you don't say what might actually bother you?

also what the FUCK is wrong with you that you would LOUDLY INTERRUPT SOMEONE ELSE'S RP FUN to proclaim that you find it gross?

also i'm not even touching on some other stuff that has been driving me nuts w other players.

these are my friends and v few of them are fucking acting like it.

time to go make a list of the shit that i need to cover tomorrow.

really wish i wasn't feeling the energy of the angry public school teacher who's past their fucking limit.

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

I was tagged by @onmywaytonarnia so here's some stuff about me

Nickname: Florida Man or just Florida (god help me, I hate it down here...)

Sign: PEDESTRIAN X-ING, REST AREA - 3 MILES, or perhaps SPEEDING FINES DOUBLED WHEN WORKERS PRESENT (I do not believe in astrology)

Height: 6'1" or 6'2"

Last thing I googled: Perseverance rover

Song stuck in my head: for some reason I have a mashup of Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls and Breakaway by Kelly Clarkson stuck in my head. I don't know if I actually heard a mashup somewhere, or if they were both part of that 4-chords song by Axis of Awesome, but I can't stop thinking of the two choruses layered on top of each other (🎶and I don't want the world to see me cause I don't think that they'd understand/🎶I'll spread my wings and I'll learn how to fly🎶)

Follower count: officially 3222, but I noticed when I was just starting out that tumblr inflated the actual count by like 20, 30, 40%. When it said I had 100 followers, I counted, and I actually had 85. When it said I had 1000, I only had like 700. I stopped counting after that, so I have no clue how many I actually have right now. Probably more than 1000, but probably not more than 2000. I have maybe 100 followers who regularly interact with my stuff, about 30 of whom are mutuals (maybe 10 or 15 close friends).

Amount of aleep: AHAHAHAHAHAHA (5, maybe 6 hours on a good night? Sometimes none, just endless tossing and turning because my brain won't shut off)

Lucky number: 13, and I'm not being ironic about that. I'm serious. 13 is my favorite number of a variety if personal reasons

Dream job: I want to be part of a creative team, I want to work with a bunch of people to make something for people to see! I want to make art, and I want to collaborate so I'm not alone. Writing scripts or making props or dressing sets, some manner of production design. I want to craft!

Wearing: Goodfellow t-shirt and cargo shorts

Movie/book that summarizes me: Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir feels like it was written for me personally. That is how my thought process works, that is how I deal with problems, that is who I want to be. I have a higher than average understanding of math and science but I always try to explain it in as simple terms as possible for people who find it all too daunting. This is the kind of book I want to write, sci-fi that explains the sci.

Favorite songs: Ramblin Man, the Gambler, Country Roads, the Devil Went Down to Georgia (I'm noticing a country pattern...), anything by Weird Al Yankovic (Hardware Store and Albuquerque are probably my top 2 of his),the Little Shop of Horrors movie soundtrack, White Squall and Northwest Passage by Stan Rogers (I went through a sea shanty phase when Wellerman was big), anything by Jonathan Coulton (Skullcrusher Mountain, Code Monkey, Blue Sunny Day, Big Wide World One, Shop Vac, Mandelbrot Set, to name a few), Climb Out Your Window, Addicted, and Here We Go by Walk off the Earth, and the Celtic Woman cover of Danny Boy (this is my go-to cry song; if I need a nice long cry, I put this on and it all comes flowing out of me)

Favorite instrument: I love brass, trumpet specifically, I could listen to Louis Armstrong all day

Aesthetic: analog technology, typewriters, instant photography, clockwork watches without quartz, sacrificing convenience for the sake of privacy, nostalgia for the early 2000s (but through the eyes of a child, so no George W. Bullshit)

Favorite author: per capita, Andy Weir. He's only written 3 books, but I love them all and want to emulate him. Max Brooks for World War Z. Cormac McCarthy for The Road (very depressing, but hopeful near the end; one of the only books to really tug at my heartstrings). John Steinbeck for Of Mice and Men (another heartstring tugger). Audrey Niffenegger for The Time Traveler's Wife.

Currently reading: Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman

Favorite colors: cyan, lime green, heliotrope purple

Favorite animal sounds: the scuttling of crabs on pavement, the sneef-snorfing of a curious dog, the bleat of a baby goat, the EHHH of a baby sloth, the MEHH of a baby deer, the chirping of bats, ethereal whale songs

Last song: either I'm Going to go Back There Someday from the Muppet Movie, or Hey I Don't Work Here by Tom Cardy

Last Series: Owl House (Lulu + Hootcifer 4ever!!! Oh yeah and lumity's pretty good too I guess)

Random: I once learned all the lyrics to Bobby Darin's Mack the Knife without ever actually listening to the lyrics of Mack the Knife. Like, I listened to the song all the time, but I never paid attention to what was being said. It was just gibberish to me, but I learned the gibberish, and I sang along to it in the car one day and my mom asked why I was so enthusiastic about murder. Turns out Mack the Knife is about an old londontown ripper named Macheath. Still a banger though.

@goldenmoldies @olivia-online @nsomniacsdream @schifty-al @richardjager @n-brio @orange-birdie

[brick-a-doodle-do]

BRICK! YOUR TURN!!!!!!!!!! HAVE MANY QUESTIONS!

You do not have to answer them all

I definitely didn't steal some of your questions because you ask really good questions and my brain struggled to think of any new ones...

favourite dsmp era?

what song do you think will be #1 on your spotify wrapped?

the reason you got into g/t?

favourite season?

chocolate or vanilla?

top 3 dsmp members (yes I'll make you pick 3 >:D)

a trope you wish came up more in gt/non g/t

favourite trope outside of gt

if you had a choice of a date, would you go to a restaurant or a movie?

favourite Broadway show (this is an essential question Brick)

do you believe in star signs and if they're accurate?

favourite head cannon you've come up with (gimme, gimmie, gimmie)

favourite c! ship? (any fandom and what one)

drawing or writing?

digital or traditional drawing?

acyrlic paint or water colour?

are you left handed or right handed? ambidextrous?

what's your or fav eye colour

first dsmp cc you watched?

Do you have YouTube Premium, or do you value money?

t!george & g!dream or g!george & t!dream?

favourite au in this fandom? If I don't get a link, Imma be sad.

If you could meet only one dsmp member irl, who would you meet?

thoughts on the people trying to speak to you about your cars extended warranty?

all time fav movie?

what's something you wished you received more of on your blog?

are you mad at me for poaching your questions?

and finally, have you ever had a secret account? (for any platform)

M A N Y W O R D S . . .

LOVE YOU GORGEOUS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

OMG HI THANK YOU ILYSM !!!!!!

i will answer them all because you answered them all, it's only fair :D

pff that's totally fine, i was hoping you would cause some of these i have the answer for locked and loaded dsjfhgdnf

POGTOPIA!!! (AS OF RIGHT NOW) and I mean the pogtopia where techno and tommy are bonding, dream is teaming up with them to fight wars, tommy and sapnap and sam are making drugs, c!quackity hasn't gone all serious yet (i still love when he is don't get me wrong, you can't ever get a bad c!quackity), niki's helping commit arson and destroy a tower, like that shit is good and something i really enjoy. but pogtopia is on thin ice rn because of fucking pogtopia!wilbur, like i'm so pissed at him right now, leave tommy alone so he can bond with his friends :( ANSHDNF SORRY FOR THAT RAMBLE

oh gosh there's so many songs that i've listened to on repeat, i have a tendency to do that for certain events, no clue why,,,, but i think it'll probably be out of my league or the masochism tango. or some broadway song---i hope it's not the story of the phantom istg

dsmp, ngl. i've always liked that whole mini thing and didn't really know it was g/t (like you) but once i did, the first thing that popped up while scrolling this app on the g/t tag was dsmp g/t, and i think that's pretty funny because at the time i knew what the dsmp was but wasn't particularly interested in it, and i joined the fandom as soon as i saw those g/t posts. both fandoms helped each other lmaoo

fall primarily, but summer vibes can be nice

quackity, wilbur and george, they're my beloveds and i'll hold them close C: (in no specific order..)

i require more spider-man!tommy aus, i love them dearly. but as for tropes i kind of wish that there were more immortality fics without a happy ending. (spoilers for passerine and his curse of binding), pass!techno got to finish his life and hcob tommy got to live past 16, like that's a good ending (and let's be honest i sobbed at "there, nestled among the pink strands, delicate as a bird’s wing, was a single gray hair" but STILL for g/t, i want a fic where there's a colony in a craft store, because imagine the possibilities!!!! there's mini furniture in there, tons of things to make more furniture, and no matter how much they take, the store still gets to restock, because who would think a rat would take crafting supplies?

i'd probably go to a restaurant, but not a fancy one, because i really don't think that going to a movie theatre is all that romantic,,,

HAMILTON!! heathers is close behind, then probably rent and six :D

i kind of do, i can't say that i don't because yk there's no proof that they don't and there's a lot of things that make me think they do,,

ohhhh i don't think of headcannons ever,,, so i'm going to resort to using my own aus and my own worldbuilding session to give you this: curiosity!wilbur, after the two of them get out (:0), wilbur is extremely paranoid of doors, like he leaves the door to everyone's room cracked open, and hates leaving the house or going into it. the first time he went to tommy's house, it took techno dragging him in by the collar to get him inside, to which he was not happy,,

if it has to be a canon ship, then probably schlatt & quackity (at least i think it was canon) but again that's really based on lore so maybe karlnapity,,, anyway um for fanon, tnt duo is always >>> (can you tell i like quackity? lmao) and i in no way want them to get together, i just want that awkward romance, the whole thing with wilbur being for it and quackity being entirely unamused, i love that

writing, can't draw for the life of me lmao

traditional if i don't have a stylus

probably acrylic

i'm left handed!! :D

my eyes are brown and i like maroon-y eyes (looking at you wilbur, quackity, and george)

i actually have no fucking clue, i've been trying to remember for a good half a year now. i'm going to go see if i can find it and update you,,,,, okay nope i can't find it. but it's gotta be ranboo, there's no way it's not---i watched him so early, he's the first cc i followed on twitch AND the first cc i subbed to on youtube so it's gotta be him. i can very briefly recall watching something that looked a lot like lore (or at least they were on the server) and it was when i was searching up dsmp content, and i've narrowed that video down to one of three people: tommy, george, or one of those dsmp channels that follows lore. not sure which it was, don't think i ever will :'D

i value money, i'm not sure why someone would ever want youtube premium

ooooh that's a hard one, i think i'm going to say t!george and g!dream, the classic. but that's not to say that i don't love a t!dream

ooohohohoh okay hmm a classic answer would be tiny streamer au by @.corysmiles because who doesn't like a good ol' classic au? :D hmm close to that is supervillain and super...tiny? also by cory cause the interaction between tommy & wilbur in chapter two is just JSHGDNF /pos AND OH I FORGOT SUPERMARKET AU!! THAT FUCKING THING IS SUCH /VPOS IT'S JUST THE BEST THING TO EVER EXIST!! and lastly giant foster au. all basic answers because my g/t interest stays confined to tumblr and only this circle of creators lmaoo

honestly i really wouldn't want to meet any of them cuz idk social things but probably quackity, he seems genuinely so sweet, then maybe tommy? i think he'd be really easy to talk to :D

...............

ooh that's so difficult!!! :( but i think it's going to be the fear street trilogy, and if you want a specific movie, then fear street: 1978 (the second one) cause C'MON ITS SO GOOD!! and IT is always top tier for me despite the movie being shit,,,,

honestly i don't rlly know, because i get asks both when i'm asking and i'm not asking, and i think i get a pretty good amount of attention on my fics, there's not really a thing i would change :D because my goal was 100 followers and now i've achieved that, so i'm just kinda vibing here now,,

no i'd never be mad at you, these questions are lovely :D

*looks at this account* okay but seriously speaking, no one irl knows of this account,, and as for secret to this community, i did have a sideblog for a bit to interact with another one of my interests but i decided to get rid of it C:

BECKY THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THESE!!!! I LOVE ANSWERING QUESTIONS >:DDD

[fumikomiyasaki]

I dunno if you're still taking these, but would it be ok to ask for 🌆 with any of our ships?

How about just one date?

So given the last thing I wrote with momo and Mellow was like a date, I will only write the rest.

After Gabrielle was done with her usual dorm leader duties... she send Sylvester a message to meet her... on that day she led him to the courtyard... with a big bucket of different weapons.

“The first years have made these.... its time to put them to the test on these dolls. Are you up for it?”

He took one of the daggers in the bucket and put his finger up the blade..

“This one is way too dull, couldn’t hurt a fly. Seems like a child made this.”

She chuckled. “Your eye for this is do like about you...Well then...”

She took another dagger and pinned him lightly to the wall, and held it close to him.

“What about this one?”

“Do you want me to kiss you or why are you doing it like that? Well this one is definetly more deadly and well crafted...”

“Thanks for the compliment, this one is the one I made as example.”

She put the dagger away but didn’t let up from him... seemingly still close looking at him... both of their lips meeting before looking back at the weapons.

“Lets save more fun for later, how about we really test these babies?”

She smirked. “Then lets make it a little throwing contest... whoever wins can lead the first attack later.”

“I like your thinking, Gabi... fine challenge accepted.”

He didn’t know what to do after he managed to even ask Marinus on a date... however in the end he settled for a candy store and after that a trip to the beach... making sure that Marinus is fed enough and ready to go with him to watch the sea...

They both stucked up on tons of candy in their bags as Tiam sighed, pushing a big umbrella in the sand to make sure he doesn’t get any chance to get sunburned.

“Why did you bring me here when you hate the sun?”

“I-I thought you might enjoy the w-water cause... y-you know...”

“How about you let me help you rub you with sunoil and join me then? “

“There is a-another reason I d-don’t go in the water.”

He pointed to his hair and sighed... Marinus sat down.

“Then its no use... lets just pack the stuff in and spend some time in your room.”

“B-but...”

“I have more fun when you are happy too and feel good... come on.”

He nodded and helped him pack everything, including the umbrella... Going back and Marinus just resting close with him, eating some snacks while watching some shows... Tiam having somewhat of a less crazy smile on his mouth, tempting Marinus to tease him a little about it.

Mythras choice to take Amos on a date was more guided... In one of her more alluring dress she arrived at his room and take him on her motorcycle into the city nightlife... first getting some good food and drinks at a bar just to go into her favourite club to dance with him... She kept him very close, knowing full well that if she doesn’t some others might try to court her again as she often had the trouble...

Eventually they settled to walk the park in the night on their way back.

“Are you fine Mythra, you seem wobbly?”

“Just my heels... guess all the dancing made them too uncomfortable...My feet hurt but I am glad about it.”

He looked back at her and then picked her up. She wasn’t even phased and led her arms around his neck.

“You are just such a darling, Amos.”

“Don’t overdo it, my dear... alright.”

She gave him a peck on the cheek and smiled.

“I will give it my all when it matters, till then I just want to have my fun and dance the night away. I blame these shoes, not myself.”

He laughed a little. “Blame the drinks as well... let me get you back then.”

“Aww but, don’t you wanna stay over? I could give you some affection... and maybe more.”

He quickly got flustered.

“Then I will take this offer.”

She was pretty nervous at first... sure they have been hanging out in school a lot but a date... that would be her first for now... but still she mustered the courage to arrange something.... and in the end settled for a Sushi restaurant in hope they have his favourite on the menu as well as taking some advice from Lyla over Mythra in how she dresses... in the end she waited for him in a simple green loose dress, face red with a smile.

“Ah perfect on time, lets go in...” His face was also a little red looking at her as both walked into the building... it was in general pretty inside... a big cherry blossom tree and much atmosphere. However as they got the menu she was relieved... not only had they his fried eel but also for her some good sushi types.

“So... you are really fine to be seen with me like this?”

“What are you saying? I am happy that you are here with me... usually Lyla and Leroy accompany to try out new restaurants but... somewhat this feels more special... if its just you and me. I enjoy your company.”

She showed him a light smile as he looked away and nodded... although they didn’t talk that much, somewhat she felt happy just enjoying some food and at least getting a little more to be close with him... after all was done and she paid they both walked outside... the moonlight shining down on the buildings...

“Would you mind walking me back to the dorm?... At night I always feel a little unsafe...”

He took her hand and nodded. “Of course I will...”

Even just the little warmth from his hand was enough to make her heart beat and feel warm inside... she saw full well how flustered he was as they finally arrived at the ramshackle dorm... however as he was about to leave she swiftly pulled him down by his collar for a soft kiss on the lips.

“Take it as thank you for tonight... I would love to do this again with you...Maybe next time... you could even stay over a little...”

And as she left inside the dorm she still felt just swept away and happy by how this night was... still keeping a good mood into her sleep.

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Fic Titles W/ Their Names Masterlist

5 Seconds of Naughty (ao3) - sir_red luke/ashton, michael/calum E, 5k

Summary: Shameless smut about 5SOS.

5 Times Luke Though He Got Away With Keeping A Secret From The Boys and the 1 Time He Realized They Knew The Whole Time (ao3) - ProducedbyMGC N/R

Summary: 5 times Luke thought he got away with keeping a pretty big secret from the boys and the 1 time he realized maybe he's shit at keeping secrets.

Ash is on the floor (ao3) - tinyglitterrose ot4 M, 4k

Summary: “Are you hard?”, Luke asked bluntly and immediately he had the attention of three australians.

Play it cool, just play if off, Ashton thought to himself, as if he was not panicking right now.

“No? What the fuck, Luke?”, he tried to sound arrogant and even rolled his eyes at the blonde, but the other man wasn’t having it.

“No, no, you’re hard, I saw that”, then he giggled, “You have a boner, Ashy, I saw it”

Ashton shook his head violently, but Calum interrupted him before he could object again: “Do you really?”

— basically an Ashton centered foursome with plot.

Ashton Enchanted (ao3) - boomercal calum/ashton N/R, 46k

Summary: Ashton was given a special ‘gift’ when he was only a few days old, the 'gift’ of obedience. He has never been in love, never had friends and is content to keep it that way until a friendly girl in his class decides she wants to be his friend. Then Ashton has to come to terms with trusting those around him, maintaining his first friendships and managing his first real crush.

calum's song. (ao3) - badomensbaby luke/calum T, 6k

Summary: or, the five times luke thinks about telling calum he's in love with him, plus the one time he finally does.

Five Things Luke Hemmings Thinks About (ao3) - zaynshoran (oneswhonever) Luke/Calum, past Luke/Ashton M, 833

Summary: What Luke thinks about after Ashton’s death

How to make an idiot out of yourself, by Ashton Irwin. (ao3) - cuddlingluke luke/ashton T, 2k

Summary: the one where ashton mistakes his boss' son for a staff guy and makes him help him but luke doesn't mind

Life-Size Luke (ao3) - plushyluke luke/ashton E, 15k

Summary: ashton is a sex store employee when the new adult, collector dolls hit the shelves. he's had enough of these "lukey dolls," when one night everything changes, and his life becomes lukalicious.

lu and mike (tt) (ao3) - coolbabyblue michael/luke, calum/ofc T, 426k

Summary: The story in which Luke is an overly aggressive teen who just can’t seem to catch a break in life and Michael just wants to show him that he deserves the world and more.

Luke Hugged Him Back Just As Tightly And Heard Michael Whisper ‘Friends’. (ao3) - destiel_lemmings E, 28k

Summary: Luke knew that this was going to be weird. He new roommate/ex-kitten were now even more indulged in Luke’s mind. The only problem was that his roommate was not only attractive but he knew Luke like the back of his hand, and Luke had just met the boy.

Or this is a continuation of ‘With A Meow And A Belly Rub Luke Knew He Was In Love With The Ball Of Fur.’ And Michael knows all of Luke’s quirks but Luke is just getting to know the cute boy that was once his kitten. This is the journey through their friendship and maybe even relationship?

Lukey Boy - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) T, 4k

Summary: Ashton brings Luke to Craft Club.

Magic Mike (ao3) - im_just_a_sucker_for_bromance michael/everyone E, 3k

Summary: Ashton Irwin is turning 21 and wanted a grand party. To his surprise, his idea of ‘Grand Party’ does not coincide with what his friends think a 'Grand Party’ means. His night may turn out to be better than he had imagine.

Michael’s Dirty Diary (ao3) - im_just_a_sucker_for_bromance michael/luke E, 32k

Summary: Why did Luke find somebody’s diary? Why did he even want to read it when he knew he should not? The things he was reading were shocking but he could not help but read more, specially since he was involved. Who was that Michael anyway? Luke had to find out.

michael wants another slice - @sup3rbloom (haveufoundwhaturlookingfor) michael/luke T, 3k

Summary: Luke is Ashton's nerdy next door neighbor, and he also just happened to get a job as a pizza delivery boy. Michael crushes on him as soon as he meets him. Cue the endless teasing from Ashton and Calum. And Luke helps Michael get a job.

Mikey’s kink (ao3) - Directioner_Jcats_5sosfam michael/luke E, 4k

Summary: Basically, Michaels want’s to try a few kinks, and Luke want to help.

The 5 Times Calum Ran Into a Nameless Guy at a Bar, and The One Time He Wasn’t So Nameless (ao3) - awfuldaycupcake calum/ashton N/R, 7k

Summary: The one where Calum keeps seeing Ashton in bars, but doesn’t even know his name

[sparklyaxolotlstudent]

So, one of my latest obsessions is Heartstopper, and I wanted my dolls to also be obsessed with them, and made them mini books!

But since I don't have a printer and the place I go to charges different for B&W and color prints, I decided to fill the sheet to the brim with books covers, some that I have read, some don't, but all of them interesting... And one thing lead to another, and I ended up with all of these

The four at the bottom and ALL of the ones in the second picture are from premade book cover sites, because I was too lazy to find full covers of real books.

I also found out that some cheap domino I bought was the perfect size to make these fake books, so they were much easier to do than the Heartstopper and other real ones, as I used actual paper on those

I was storing them in this cute box I found at the flea market, but once I finished I realized there were more books than what the box could contain, and lucky for me, found this Melissa and Doug box at the flea market

It only had two of the puzzles, and they were incomplete, so I decided to transform it into a bookcase, and use the puzzle pieces for other crafts

I wanted to paint the back with Heartstopper pastel colors, but the yellow just didn't want to cooperate, so I decided to put pieces of paper, and I like how it looks.

[decayedhearts]

CW: incest // N S F W !!

@faentasie​ sent:  “ i  love  teasing  you. “ // august and ace uwu  [NS//FW Meme]

Ace’s breath comes out in a carefully crafted sigh, the effort of holding in a moan visible on his face. He tries to move his hip to regain a bit of friction, but with August having him trapped in place like this, there isn’t much he can do. --And damn him for it! He was getting so close before he decided to just stop..

     “Don’t I know it..” Ace grumbles as he reaches down to tug at his brother’s pants to get him to move again. Maybe he should tug his hair instead or shake him, or do something else drastic enough to remind August that they don’t have all day and that Ace is going to smother him with his pillow if he leaves him blue-balled like this. Or maybe he should turn them around and show August how much fun it is to be on the receiving end of this endless teasing..

“Come on,” Ace whines, shifting his hip to grind against August’s thigh once more. It feels good - but not good enough. He needs what he had a moment ago: their bodies moving against each other, the fabric of August’s jeans rough against his hard length covered only by his boxers, heat building between them and every second bringing him closer to that sweet sweet bliss.

His brother’s lack of urgency makes Ace grit his teeth. Either one of his roommates could come back to their dorm at any moment, so there’s really no time for playing around like this - unless of course you’re not the one who’s rock-hard and dripping inside his shorts, dying to get release. No matter how this will end, Ace has already stored this as future payback material next time their roles are reversed. Time to haul out the big guns.

He puts on the most pitiful pout he can muster and moves his arms up to wrap them around August’s neck and pull him closer against his chest. “Please..” he whispers, rolling his thighs to underline his words. “Stop being a jerk and make me come.” Yep, totally aced that seduction thing.

[c-is-for-circinate]

For a long, large part of my life, being queer in a media landscape--finding queerness in a media landscape--has meant theft.

I'm a Fandom Old, somehow, these days, older than most and younger than some, in that way that's grown associated with grumpy crotchetyness and shotguns on porches and back in my day, we had to wade through our Yahoo Groups mailing lists uphill both ways, boring and irrelevant anecdotes from Back In Those Days when homophobia clearly worked differently than it does now, probably because we weren't trying hard enough. I've seen a lot of stories through the years. I've read a lot of fanfic. (More days than not, for the past twenty years. I've read a lot of fanfic.)

When people my age start groaning and sighing at conversations about representation and queerbaiting, when we roll our eyes and drag all the old war stories out again in the face of AO3 is terrible and Not Good Enough, so often what we say is: you Young Folks Today have no idea how hard, how scary, how limiting it was to be queer anywhere Back In Those Days. Including online, maybe especially online, including in a media landscape that hated us so much more than any one you've ever known. And that is true. Always and everywhere, again and again, it's true, we remember, it's true.

We don't talk so much about the joy of it.

Online fan spaces were my very first queer communities, ever. I was thirteen, I was fourteen, I was fifteen--I was a lonely, over-precocious "gifted kid" two years too young for my grade level in an all-girls' Catholic school in the suburbs--I lived in a world where gay people were a rumor and an insult and a news story about murder. I was straight, of course, obviously, because real people were straight and anyway I was weird enough already--I couldn't be two things strange, couldn't be gay too, but--well, I could read the stories. I could feel things about that. I would have those stories to help me, a few years later, when I knew I couldn't call myself straight any more.

And those stories were theft. There was never any doubt about that. We wrote disclaimers at the top of every fic, with the specter of Anne Rice's lawyers around every corner. We hid in back-corners of the internet, places you could only find through a link from a link from a link on somebody else's recs page, being grateful for the tiny single-fandom archives when you found them, grateful for the webrings where they existed. It was theft, all of it, the stories about characters we did not own, the videotaped episodes on your best friend's VHS player, one single episode pulled off of Limewire over the course of three days.

It was theft, we knew, to even try and find ourselves in these stories to begin with. How many fics did I read in those days about two men who'd always been straight, except for each other, in this one case, when love was stronger than sexual orientation? We stole our characters away from the heterosexual lives they were destined to have. We stole them away from writers and producers and TV networks who work overtime to shower them in Babes of the Week, to pretend that queerness was never even an option. This wasn't given to us. This wasn't meant for us. This wasn't ours to have, ever, ever in the first place. But we took it anyway.

And oh, my friends, it was glorious.

We took it. We stole. And again and again, for years and years and years, we turned that theft into an art. We looked for every opening, every crack in every sidewalk where a little sprout of queerness might grow, and we claimed it for our own and we grew whole gardens. We grew so sly and so skilled with it, learning to spot the hints of oh, this could be slashy in every new show and movie to come our way. Do you see how they left these character dynamics here, unattended on the table? How ripe they are for the pocketing. Here, I'll help you carry them. We'll make off with these so-called straight boys, and we only have to look back if somebody sets out another scene we want for our own.

We were thieves, all of us, and that was fine and that was fair, because to exist as queer in the world was theft to begin with. Stolen time, stolen moments--grand larceny of the institution of marriage, breaking and entering to rob my mother's hopes for grandchildren. Every shoplifted glance at the wrong person in the locker room (and it didn't matter if we never peeked, never dared, they called us out on it anyway). Every character in every fic whose queerness became a crime against this ex-wife, that new love interest. Every time we dared steal ourselves away from the good straight partners we didn't want to date.

And: we built ourselves a den, we thieves, wallpapered in stolen images and filled to the brim with all the words we'd written ourselves. We built ourselves a home, and we filled it with joy. Every vid and art and fic, every ship, every squee. Over and over, every straight boy protagonist who abandoned all womankind for just this one exception with his straight boy protagonist partner found gay orgasms and true love at the end.

Over and over, we said: this isn't ours, this isn't meant to be ours, you did not give this to us--but we are taking it anyway. We will burglarize you for building blocks and build ourselves a palace. These stories and this place in the world is not for us, but we exist, and you can't stop us. It's ours now, full of color and noise, a thousand peoples' ideas mosaic'ed together in celebration. We made this, and it will never be just yours again. You won't ever truly get it back, no matter how many lawyers you send, not completely. We keep what we steal.

.

Things shifted over time, of course. That's good. That's to be celebrated. Nobody should have to steal to survive. It should not be a crime, should not feel like a crime, to find yourself and your space in the world.

There were always content creators who could slip a little wink in when they laid out their wares, oh what's this over here, silly me leaving this unattended where anybody could grab it, of course there might be more over by the side door if you come around the alleyway (but if anybody asks, you didn't get this from ME). We all watched Xena marry Gabrielle, in body language and between the lines. We sat around and traded theories and rumors about whether the people writing Due South knew what they were doing when they sent their buddy cops off into the frozen north alone together at the end of the show, if they'd done it on purpose, if they knew. But over the years, slowly, thankfully, the winks became less sly.

A teenage boy put his hand on another teenage boy's hand and said, you move me, and they kissed on network TV, in a prime-time show, on FOX, and the world didn't burn down. Here and there, where they wanted to, where they could without getting caught by their bosses and managers, content creators stopped subtly nudging people around the back door and started saying, "Here. This is on offer here too, on purpose. You get to have this, too."

And of course, of course that came with a whole host of problems too. Slide around to the back door but you didn't get this from me turned into it's an item on our special menu, totally legit, you've just got to ask because the boss throws a fit if we put it out front. Shopkeepers and content creators started advertising on the sly, come buy your fix here!, hiding the fine print that says you still have to take what you've purchased home and rebuild it with your semi-legal IKEA hacks. Maybe they'll consider listing that Destiel or Sterek as a full-service menu item next year. Is that Crowley/Aziraphale the real thing or is it lite?

And those problems are real and the conversations are worth having, and it's absolutely fair to be frustrated that you can't find the ship you want on sale in anything like your color and size in a vast media landscape packed full of discount hetships and fast-fashion m/f. It's fair to be angry. It's fair to be frustrated. Queerbait is a word that exists for a reason.

There's a part of me that hurts, though, every time the topic comes up. It's a confusing, bad-mannered part of me, but it's still very real. And it's not because I'm fawning for crumbs, trying to be the Good, Non-Threatening Gay. It's not that I'm scared and traumatized by the thought of what might happen if we dare raise our voices and ask for attention. (Well. Not mostly. I'll always remember being quiet and scared and fifteen, but it's been a long two decades since then. I know how to ask for a hell of a lot more now.)

It's because I remember that cozy, plush-wallpapered den of joyful thieves. I remember you keep what you steal.

Every single time--every time--when a story I love sets a couple of characters out on a low, unguarded table, perfectly placed to be pilfered on the sly and taken home and smushed together like a couple of dolls, my very first thought is always, always joy. Always, that instinct says, yay! Says, this is ours now. As soon as I go home and crawl into that pillow-fort den, my instincts say, I will surely find people already at work combing through spoils and finding new ways to combine them, new ways to make them our own. I know there's fic for that. I've already seen fic for that, and I wasn't really interested last time, but the new store display's got my brain churning, and I can't wait to see what the crew back at the hideout does with this.

Every time, that's where my brain goes. And oh, when I realize the display's put out on purpose, that somebody snuck in a legitimate special menu item, when the proprietor gives me the nod and wink and says, you don't have to come around the side, I know it's not much but here--there is so much joy and relief and hope in me from that! Oh, what we can make with these beautiful building blocks. Oh what a story we can craft from the pieces. Oh, the things we can cobble together. Look at that, this one's a little skimpy on parts but we can supplement it, this one's got a whole outline we can fill in however we want. This one technically comes semi-preassembled, and that's boring as shit and a pain to take back apart, but that's fine, we'll manage. We're artists and thieves. I bet someone's pulling out the AU saw to cut it to pieces already.

And then I get back to our den, which has moved addresses a dozen times over the years and mostly hangs out on Tumblr now (and the roof leaks and the landlord's sketchy as fuck but at least they don't charge rent, and we've made worse places our own). And I show up, ready for joy--ready for a dozen other people who saw that low-hanging fruit on that unguarded table, who got the nod and wink about the special menu item, who're ready to get so excited about this newest haul. Did you see what we picked up? The theft was so easy, practically begging to be stolen. The last owner was an idiot with no idea what to do with it. The last owner knew exactly what it could become, bless their heart, under a craftsman with more time on their hands, so they looked away on purpose at just the right time to let me take it home. I show up every time ready for our space, the place that fed me on joy and self-confidence when I was fifteen and starving. The place that taught me, yes, we are thieves, because it is RIGHT to take what we need, and the beautiful things we create are their own justification. We are thieves, and that's wonderful, because nothing is handed to us and that means we get to build our own palaces. We get to keep everything we steal.

I go home, and even knowing the world is different, my instincts and heart are waiting for that. And I walk in the door, and I look at my dash, and I glance over at twitter, and--

And people are angry, again. Angry at the slim pickings from the hidden special menu. So, so tired and angry, at once again having to steal.

And they're right to be! Sometimes (often, maybe) I think they're angry at the wrong people--more angry with the shopkeeper who offers the bite-sized sampler platter of side characters or sneaks their queer content in on the special menu than the ones who don't include it at all. But it's not wrong to be mad that Disney's once again advertising their First Gay Character only to find out it's a tiny sprinkle of a one-line extra on an otherwise straight sundae. It's not wrong to be furious at the world because you've spent your whole life needing to be a thief to survive. It's far from wrong. I'm angry about it too.

But this was my den of thieves, my chop shop, my makerspace. Growing up in fandom, I learned to pick the locks on stories and crack the safes of subtext at the very same time I learned to create. They were the same thing, the same art. We are thieves, my heart says, we are thieves, and that's what makes us better than the people we steal from. We deconstruct every time we create. We build better things out of the pieces.

And people are angry that the pre-fab materials are too hard to find, the pickings too slim, the items on sale too limited? Yes, of course they are, of course they should be--but my heart. Oh, my heart. Every single time, just a little bit, it breaks.

Of course the stories are terrible (they have always been terrible). Of course they are, but we are thieves. We steal the best parts and cobble them back together and what we make is better than it was before. The craftsman's eye that cases a story for weak points, for blank spaces, for anywhere we can fit a crowbar and pry apart this casing--that's skill and art and joy. Of course we shouldn't have to, of course we shouldn't have to, but I still love it. I still want it, crave it. I still thrill every time I see it, a story with hairline cracks that we can work open with clever hands to let the queer in.

That used to be cause for celebration, around here. I ask him to go back to the ruins of Aeor with me, two men together alone on an expedition in the frozen north, it feels like a gift. And I understand why some people take it as an insult. I understand not good enough. I understand how something can feel like a few drops of water to someone dying of thirst, like a slap in the face. If it was so easy to sneak it hidden onto the special menu, to place it on the unguarded side table for someone else to run off to, why not let it sit out front and center in the first place? I know it's frustrating. It should be. We should fight. We should always fight. I know why.

But my heart, oh, my heart. My heart only knows what it's been taught. My heart sees, this thing right here, the proprietor left it there for you with a nod and a wink because they Get It. It's not put together yet, but it's better that way anyway. It's so full of pieces to pull apart and reassemble. I bet they've got a whole mosaic wall going up at home already. We can bring it home and make it OURS, more than it was ever theirs, forget half of what it came from and grow a new garden in what remains.

And I go home to find anger, and my heart breaks instead.

[estrel]

for #spnprideweek day 1: coming out + flags

↳ summary: cas tells sam a secret that he hasn’t (really) told anybody else. surprisingly, sam has one too.  PRIDE series | gen, sam & cas | word count: 1.7k

[READ ON AO3]

Sam’s grimacing a little at the grease from the fries on Cas’ plate. Cas would usually make a comment, here, about Sam keeping his eyes on his own paper, or that it isn’t nearly as bad as the veggie burger sitting on his plate at Sam’s behest. This is the recompense, Cas wants to say, but his mouth is dry and no words are coming out even if he wants them to.

Accompanying the inability to speak is the twisting feeling in his gut that won’t even allow him to pick up the burger. The smell is too much, too, and Cas hates to admit it but it’s probably the grease, so he sits back a little against the peeling seat of the booth to calm his nerves.

It’s just Sam. He can do this. It’s only that this is the first time he’s telling anyone, and that definitely ups the stakes a little.

Well, that’s somewhat of a lie. Cas had told the nice woman at the grocery store check out last week when he’d seen her little pin on her work uniform and asked where he could get one. 

He hadn’t actually bought one, of course, but Cas eyed the small bin full of brightly colored pins on the way out, convincing himself it was stupid to get back in line again for something so small and inexpensive. Still, he’d thought about it on the drive back to the Bunker, and that night in his bed, and the full week following, up until now. 

Now, Sam was looking at him with concern, and wiping his mouth in that way that means he’s about to get serious.

“Is everything alright?” he asks, pointedly looking down at Cas’ loaded plate. He’d barely taken a bite, except for a few nibbles of his admittedly greasy fries. And it was weird because since becoming human, Cas' appetite had grown considerably, much to Dean's delight.

And—Dean. That's what this was all about, wasn't it? Sure, it was more than just Dean, it was all the humans that had made Cas' body ache like it hadn't before, had made him think of what it means to be in this vessel—his body—and be attracted to other...humans.

It was odd. In hindsight, things in Heaven had been so much easier in this regard. Cas had spent most of his life clueless to the capabilities of human attraction, and then he met Dean and it all came crashing down around him. Only then, Cas was ignoring it. He was facing the other way, because though he felt human, he wasn't. Not really.

But everything is different now.

Cas clears his throat.

"Well," he starts, "no. I am feeling what I believe you’d call...anxiety. My stomach hurts, I find I'm unable to eat, a-and my hands are—"

"Cas," Sam interrupts. Shaking. Cas' hands are shaking.

Sam's fully set his fork and knife down now, hands clasped together on the edge of the table. "Talk to me."

Cas licks his dry lips.

"It’s not...it isn’t a big deal, really,” and yet Cas can feel his heart hammering in his chest. He sucks in a breath. “But I’m, uh. I wanted to tell you that...I like men.”

Sam’s expression doesn’t change, but he blinks at Cas once from across the table.

“Okay.”

Cas raises an eyebrow, pulse slowing down a little with his next exhale. “Okay?”

Maybe it was that simple, and Cas was worrying over nothing. It’s just...this feels like it should be bigger. Earth-shattering. Like Sam should either hug him or tell him he never wants to speak to Cas again.

Instead, he just shrugs, picks up his fork and pushes bits of his salad around his plate.

But then Cas’ gaze moves to Sam’s face and...Sam’s frowning. Cas feels his heart thumping hard again, waiting for the ball to drop. It feels a little like when Dean sat him down to “talk,” right after he lost his powers, and, well. Cas knew how that had ended. He braces himself for the worst, schools his features to something more neutral.

“I’m,” Sam clears his throat, “I’m sorry you got nervous over all of that. I-I get that coming out is...” he laughs, “usually a bigger deal, but. You don’t have to worry with me, you know? I get it.”

That makes Cas pause. “You...do?”

Now Sam’s looking at him, eyes a little wide, but he works his jaw and gets the words out. “Yeah. Uh... well I guess now’s a good a time as any to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

The fork is set back down again. The bell over the diner door jingles. 

“In college...you know about Jess,” Sam says, jogging Cas’ memory. He knows, so he nods and Sam continues, “Well we uh. We actually met in a Gender Studies class. I thought, ‘pff, easy A,’ but it was actually way more complex than I originally thought, so she kind of...tutored me.” Cas raises an eyebrow, and Sam rolls his eyes.

“Actually tutored me. Whatever. Point is, I learned a lot—‘cause she was a great teacher—and...not just about the class, but about myself, too.” 

Cas nods slowly, beginning to catch Sam’s drift. “Okay...”

Despite his tone, Sam’s posture stiffens a little, like he’s uncomfortable, or not really used to this type of conversation. Cas does his best to relax into his seat to ease him, unfolding his arms.

“What I’m saying is,” Sam shrugs, “I’m...not...cis. Like, I don’t....I’m not um, a guy, I guess. Well, sort of. I’m non-binary.”

Cas is silent for a second, mulling it over in his head. Eventually it becomes long enough for Sam to say, “Uh...you know what? You can forget it, man—”

“No!” Cas says, almost knocking over his plate in the process. The silverware clatters as it falls onto the table, and Sam flinches a little. “I was just thinking...I want to apologize if anything I’ve said about your gender has ever made you uncomfortable, or if you—”

Sam’s out-facing palm makes Cas stutter to a stop. There’s a weird guilt settling in the pit of his stomach, and the anxiety that he’d thought was gone is back full force again. Cas tears off a piece of his napkin.

“Cas, dude. Calm down,” Sam laughs. He takes a deep breath, and Cas follows his lead. They breathe in and out together for a beat, and when Cas feels fairly calmer, Sam pushes both of their plates aside.

“There’s no need to apologize for something you couldn’t have known about,” he starts, shaking his head a little, “and you haven’t done anything wrong, either. I still use he and him pronouns, and sometimes they and them. And besides, it’s not like I go around telling people. Especially with, uh, the way I was raised...I’ve been hesitant, you know? It was great in college, people were really supportive when I told them. But then when I started hunting again...I don’t know. 

“My dad...uh. I tried telling him, once. Didn’t go too well, so I didn’t try it again. I think that’s why Dean...” he shakes his head, frowning down at the table again. “It wasn’t easy, growing up the way we did. You could probably understand that.”

Cas nods. Under the table, his napkin is shredded into bits. 

“I do. I think, in a way, I also understand being trans.” Sam jerks their head up, intrigued. 

“Angels...we don’t experience gender the same way humans do. In fact, the concept is entirely nonexistent in Heaven. So, when we take vessels...”

“You’re essentially defining yourself,” Sam says in awe. It makes Cas smile to see them back in their element, leaning forward a little to listen better. “I never thought about it that way, not really.”

Cas shrugs. “I’m not sure all of my siblings did, either. Many chose according to which vessel would best suit them and their form. That was definitely a factor in me choosing Jimmy, but I also found the thought of looking like a human man...greatly appealing.”

Sam’s nodding now, gaze darting to different parts of the table. Cas knows that means they’re mentally crafting an essay right about now, or thinking of what books in the Bunker might further help in their research about it.

“Wow,” he says, “that’s—I mean. Wow, Cas. Thanks for telling me that. And uh, the other thing.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

There’s a comfortable silence between them now, and Cas takes it as an opportunity to sip from his slightly-melted iced tea. 

“So,” Sam starts again slowly, “have you told Dean?”

Cas sucks in another deep breath, and Sam nods. “Yeah,” he says, “me neither.”

It surprises Cas a little that Sam hasn’t told him, and he expresses that with an inquiring eyebrow. 

Sam purses his lips and dodges the unspoken question. “Dean’s not a bad guy. You probably know that better than anyone except me. You know he’d still love you if you told him.”

Cas’ heart pounds at the mention of the word. When Sam notices, he feels his ears begin to heat with a blush. 

“Oh,” Sam smiles, “that. I figured. For a while now, but I didn’t wanna say anything.”

Cas tries to will away the heat on his face. He doesn’t say anything, so Sam leaves it be.

The waitress gives them a worried look when she brings the check, eyeing their barely touched plates. They both smile apologetically, insisting that their food was “great” when she whisks it away.

On their way back home, Cas asks if Sam can stop at the store. They don’t ask anything more than, “we need groceries that bad?” and Cas dips inside. He knows this is just like any other grocery run—going in and out as quick as possible with the things they need—yet his heart hammers all the same when he stops in front of the bin near the door. The same employee from last week is working on lane six, and he’s sure to check out at that one with his goods. She gives him a knowing smile.

Cas flops into the passenger seat, a little out of breath.

“That was fast,” Sam starts to say, before noticing Cas’ lack of grocery bags. “Dude. What d’you buy, air?”

Instead, Cas brandishes two brightly colored pins. Sam tentatively takes the yellow, white, purple, and black one, eyes wide.

“For me?” they ask.

Cas smiles, running his thumb over the rainbow one in his hand. 

“For both of us,” he says.

[@spnprideweek]