#ill make a post explaining more maybe today or tomorrow but i just wanted to mention it 😭🙏 anyway have a nice day

[ask-funnybunnydoll]

For Jax. Cool bug fact's! 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗒, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌. 𐌀𐌍𐌃 ᏵꝊ𐌃, 𐌌𐌉Ᏽ𐋅𐌕 𐌍Ꝋ𐌕 𐌁𐌄 𐌔Ꝋ…𐌌𐌄𐌓𐌂𐌉𐌅𐌵𐌋.

J: I remind myself of him sometimes. Did he fail that bad? Or did I fail myself in promises of never being like him?

[shrimp-gender]

Hey i don't want to pry but I've been following you a long time and your last post was super concerning. Maybe you just needed to get it out there but as long as you're talking could you explain a bit more about your problems? Is it financial? Family? Internal? Are you medicated? sorry for being on anon i can come off it if you're not comfortable talking like this (or just tell me to leave if you're not ready to talk at all)

My problems are that I have been dealing with severe crippling mental illness since as long as I have been able to form memories and have been begging for death since I was at least 5. And I've been actively in therapy and trying different medications and stuff since I was 10.

Unfortunately, I was essentially kidnapped by a hospital that was extremely traumatizing and actually killed several children over the years through medical neglect and the week that I spent there fucked me up bad. And I've never really recovered

As a result, I have intense trauma related to the mental health care system and can't really get any help because who can help me.

I've been actively in crisis since November actively trying to get help and I've tried many things and none of them have worked and it's only gotten worse and pretty much everyone I talk to has absolutely no suggestions as to how to help me that we haven't already tried and it didn't work

Because of the amount of mental illness I have dealt with I am currently 27 and 1/2 and I have not yet graduated college. I was very close. I was supposed to get my bachelor's tomorrow/ later today cuz now it's 2:00 a.m. but have been so bad for the past few months that I had to withdraw from college and I will not be graduating but all my friends will

And additionally, I have disabilities that make it so I probably will never be able to work 40 hours a week but are not going to be enough to qualify for government assistance and so I will spend the rest of my life struggling

And no one has been able to convince me or show me a good reason why I shouldn't just be allowed to die

[dzpenumbra]

4/23/23

I had another sleep-like-crap night, then sleep-in-the-comfy-chair day. It was because of a dream this time. I don't really remember it fully. I woke up in a scene where I was at this really unique bakery, it was so intensely vivid. It was very home-like, with white walls and lots of dark high contrast decor and food. It was a unique, cool cafe kinda place, it reminded me of a place in... either Boston or Portland, ME, I don't remember... that was a cupcake bar or something, like all they had was cupcakes and you just go and eat, and the whole place was like... part of a renovated house. It was cool.

In this dream, I was with my mom. And it was uncomfortable. And I had to like... explain to her how my cat had died. Like she didn't know. It was really upsetting, enough to wake me up after 5 hours of sleep and have me not want to dream journal it, or go back to sleep.

I was on social media for a while, Instagram this time. But the ads completely counteracted the palate-cleanse it was intended for. That's the biggest problem with social media for me - I can curate follows and subreddits and all that the best I can... and still... every 5th thing on my feed is going to be some paid placement that is either political, predatory, or obnoxious. It is extremely rare for it to be anything other than those three categories. Today, it was an onslaught of ads targeting "get a fucking job", "employment in your state", "government jobs with no work experience required", "how to make money writing copy for tech companies", "buy this program to make money as an artist! Get billions of followers today!" And, to top it off, ads for at-home psychedelic therapy (I have no fucking clue how this is legal or remotely ethical...), and more targeted apps and supplements for ADHD. In short - give up on your career, get on drugs.

I go there to look at cool art, and watch skate clips. And I get bombarded by "get a job" and "you're mentally ill". And it wears me down so much that I... I stay on the fucking site to try to keep scrolling to even out the feeling. To get more positive input than upsetting shit. But some days its just a losing battle.

Since my whole day was off, I planned to only get groceries and work on animation today. And I got the grocery list together and everything, went to checkout, then the delivery time options were all for tomorrow. It was already like... 8-8:30... The whole fucking day disappeared. I just tunnel-visioned on shit and got lost in my head, and missed the window. That shit frustrates me.

Days that sound like today? Super common for me. A massive downside to not having anyone in your life to like... break you out of your focus.

So... I'm gonna do groceries tomorrow. I made really dank quesadillas. I did a lot of animation and... finished the animation. I think. I'm pretty happy with it. And finishing that means... all that's left is an outro with my info on it, if I want to do that.

I'm tempted to redo the hiking footage. The footage I took in the trails right in the middle of the city? They have graffiti all over the trees. I didn't even notice when I was out there. And that's a huge faux-pas in all subcultures of society. That's just gross. You don't tag nature, you don't tag living things. It's so weird, it looks post-apocalyptic. And I don't like it in my video. Because I'm on the VO saying like... "I love nature, I always have, being in nature has been a huge part of my life..." and on the screen is a first person shot walking down a trail and there's an oak tree with some indecipherable black spraypaint scrawling on it that looks right out of Dawn of the Dead or some shit. Ugh.

So... I need to plan a trip to go to the National Forest and see some real nature again. I'm so goddamn overdue. I should just pick a day and reserve the car for it, as though I were making plans with someone else. Or making an appointment or something. Maybe that would help me pull the trigger on it. I think I'll bring the GoPro to get better footage too, the footage my phone took was absolute dogshit for some reason.

So yeah, that was basically my whole day. Wish I was exaggerating, it was like... the entire day. Sleep. Distraction. Sleep. Yoga. Distraction. Groceries. Cook. Eat. Work. Play Risk of Rain 2. Journal.

I might as well write about this too. Since it's 4:30 AM already anyway, it's not like I'm resetting my sleep schedule tonight. (How many thousands of times have I said that sentence...) I have been reflecting on the shit with my therapist. And why I was like... chomping at the bit to get that email to him. I get like that a lot. I get frantic, I write pages, I devote my entire self to like... trying to put out that fire. Here's the mechanism the best I can observe right now.

So... I've said the past few days that it's like a rock thrown into a pond, and then all the emotional ripples hit me. In the form of invasive thoughts and feelings. Just waves of them, varying degrees of intensity. And I can try to distract, or try to suppress, or try to let go... all with varying degrees of success. But it will come back. It always does. Because it's important.

These invasive things, they are very rarely... little things. They are usually incredibly important. Like... my deepest fears, my biggest struggles, my pains and nightmares, my trauma. They are big and they are unresolved.

And I... I kinda came to a conclusion I've come to several times before today. In those moments, I'm afraid I might have trouble distinguishing between importance and urgency. Because I... don't have structure. Like... I think this is so goddamn foreign to other people because their lives are so different than mine that they just... they can't relate to me at all.

Like... on my list of priorities today - work, groceries, shower, try to make time for myself... Where does "resolve the nagging conflict that happened with your therapist that they probably don't even know is eating you alive" fall on that list? How many days do I sit with that tapping on my shoulder every 2 hours... "hey, this dude thinks you're nuts because you got scared about leg pains when you live a sedentary lifestyle and have gotten a blood clot before."

I mean... it's an inner conflict, right? He probably has no clue it's still bothering me 3 days later. And that it's been haunting my dreams. All because of a 10 minute panic moment... that I actually overcame... that I dealt with... kinda in a crude way, but effectively. Like... it didn't bother me that night, it didn't bother me the next day. I brought it up because of how acute the reaction was. How powerful it was. It was facing death, it was... fucking jarring. But it didn't leave a lasting emotional scar, it didn't leave ripples. But this fucking did.

Because the context I put it in? I said I wish I had someone to call when I was scared like that. I just don't want to be alone in it, that's a life-goal of mine. I wish I could just talk to someone and go "hey, I'm kinda freaking out a bit... because like... an ER tried to take my leg off for something that felt a lot like this... and I don't know if this is really a dangerous situation or not? So... could you help me make sense of what I'm seeing?" Like... a friend, or a girlfriend. To just... see what they would do. Which I picture as a super normal thing, something I've had in my life before, and something I plan on having again. And he responded by like... urging me away from that expectation, and pushing me towards... crisis lines... and mentioning outpatient programs and shit? And I'm just like... yo, dude... Are you legit telling me this isn't a common problem?

You're going to tell me, in the age of Covid, that people not being sure if they're having serious medical symptoms and wanting to get a second opinion from a friend on whether they think they should call a doctor, because they don't want to waste valuable medical resources on a false alarm... is uncommon. Is a symptom of delusion or something? Like... really?!

That set off a lot of shit. Because that whole... defaulting to me being crazy and delusional? That's my family. That's where the dreams came from. And that's the haunting ripples I keep feeling. And as fucked up as the supremely intense facing death feeling was? I'd do it again in a heartbeat to make the "you're crazy and no one will ever be there to help reassure you when you're scared, if you want comfort you talk to a psychiatric nurse" bullshit stop. In a heartbeat.

So I get in this chaotic whirlpool of urgency. Because I just want these nasty narratives to leave me alone. The invasive thoughts, the memories, the... ghosts of the past... the way people think of me... the way people thought of me... The life I'm allowed to have. And all the nightmare memories attached to it. I just want them to stop. I want them to leave me alone. Because have 1 hour of talk with this dude, then 168 hours left alone with my thoughts until the next opportunity to even attempt to make sense of it. And these thoughts leave me alone, when they are at peace. When they are resolved.

So, yesterday, I just wanted him to understand how big of a problem it was for me that he jumped right into crisis mode. And treated this like it was... someone having a mental break or something. It really fucked with me. And still is. It made me feel unstable, and it made me feel like he... felt I needed to be institutionalized or some shit. It really upset me. I hate feeling like that so much. And I starkly disagree, I have been doing so much better considering the struggles I'm facing. I really thought I was on a good path, and things were on the upswing. However... this guy was a crisis counselor for over 5 years straight... I need to remember that. His response might have been force of habit.

So yeah, back to importance vs urgency. I do struggle with that when it comes to conflict resolution... because my analytic brain obsesses over interpersonal and psychological problems (you're literally witnessing it go full-tilt right now at almost 5AM, this process right here is what I'm talking about...) and treats them like puzzles to solve... and is constantly working on them. So when the thought/emotion ripples, the reminders, come back for their hourly visit... my analytic mind is ready to drop everything and just figure out the solution to this. So that I don't have to carry it anymore. And that is important, but is it... urgent? That's where I am now. And it's a really tough call.

For people who are adept at self-distraction? Important is not urgent. For people who repress, or avoid, or run... important is not urgent. But my conscience will pop up more notifications in my head than fucking Doordash trying to get me to use their damn app again. Like every damn hour. "Hey! It's important! Remember?!" DING. And I'll hit snooze until I can afford the time and resources to resolve it to my survival instincts' satisfaction. This affects my ability to focus, this affects my ability to get shit around the house done. But most importantly - this affects sleep.

You know the phrase - "How can you sleep at night?" Usually has to do with... guilt, right? Conscience-based stuff? Guilt, regret, shame, remorse, shit like that? Wishing you had done different, or done more? And I get that shit while I'm awake, constantly. So... my remedy to not be perpetually haunted by that, or perpetually in conflict with my inner self (which makes me physically ill when I am...) I... put in the extra work to work with my conscience. And try to find a solution. Like... right here, right now.

But when that involves closure with another person? Who doesn't have time for that resolution or closure? That's when I think it needs to shift from urgent to important. With interpersonal conflict, especially with those who have very busy lives. I need to learn how to shift things from urgent to important, to deal with my conscience's deep frustration about that, to cope with its impatience and interruption. And that's a skill... I am very clumsy with. Because I lack experience. I lack social experience. Because in my life, if something is important? I'm doing that. Not scheduling it for next month. And that's something I need to work on socially. And I am, and I'm getting better at it. I just... don't get a lot of opportunity to practice.

So yeah... I'm learning with this that... the page and a half I wrote for my therapist? That's information he needs to gather himself. And I need to just self-soothe, not do the learning of what really sets off my trauma shit for him. That's his job.

I went on tons of tangents here, I have no idea if it made sense, I'm still trying to figure out this really... fickle concept of importance vs. urgency. When things can wait and when they're like... "get this shit out of the way now."

I'll tell you this much, if I have ADHD... that inner invasive thought voice? That's the impulse-control issue component. That's the impatient, won't sit in his seat, bundle of emotions, driven by a motor part of me. 100%.

Welp... here's hoping for good dreams tonight, so I can get a full-night's rest. Good vibes to end this on? The animation I made? I started from scratch today and just did simple handdrawn animations in blender, and it actually came out pretty cool. Very barebones, but it got the job done better than I was envisioning. The project is taking shape, which is really nice. And soon... I'll be able to allow myself to move on to other projects... Soon... XD Any day now...

[sleepyivoryrose]

Tomorrow is the day!

I’m so excited, I hope everything goes well and I am not too stupid to enter the right train. I reeeally hope I can spend a nice holiday with my friend in her surroundings. 

Please, god, let this go smoothly and work out well. Don’t let me forget stuff at home that I need or board the wrong train or something. Just...let me have this. Please. 

I also talked today to my mother. She confirmed that my parents don’t really talk to me anymore because “they want to give me emotional independence.” How weird that they just cared after we had a gigantic fight at Silvester. Oh well, it doesn’t matter. I’m better off semi-alone anyways. 

I wonder why it is so much fun to talk to myself though, and my mothers statement only made me think about it more. Maybe because I have always been a lonely person and going solo? When I came to the country I live in now, I almost didn’t know the language and the kids kept laughing at me for that. I learned almost all of the language I know now from books, television and videogames. That would also explain why I am more comfortable in the fictional world than the real world, i guess? 

Well, no use pondering over it now, and pitying myself never solved anything. I should be happy! Tomorrow I get to see my online friend! It’s gonna be great. I hope I don’t annoy her too much with my weirdness. I know I can be a bit annoying at times. 

Maybe I can surprise her and invite her to something to eat? After all, she will go through all the trouble to welcome me. 

On another note, It’s also the first time I booked a hotel. I’m...not good with new things or changes. It makes me sick to the stomach, as brutal as it may sound. Hope everything works out alright. 

Do I have something a bit more uplifting to think about...? Well, it is the big day tomorrow, so I assume it’s only natural that my thoughts spin like a carusel around that. 

Oh, right! I went drinking boba-tea today. It’s a new hobby of mine. I always get myself a creme brûlee tea and sit down to watch people, and today also the rain. It’s been pouring these last few days. Anyways, I never manage to eat all the boba though. I don’t know if my technique is wrong or if I’m just clumsy, but I always feel awful to throw half of the boba away, because I can’t drink it properly. How do people do that? 

Very yummy though. Totally worth it. 

I started with my friend a soulsilver soullocke...we already lost a few of our members to Bugsy. That Scyther sure can pack a punch. Or a slice, considering its arms. I am already scared of Whitney and her mighty Miltank...

Holy shit it is windy today. The traffic lights are swaying, just like the trees. I love wind, it’s like a friend, but when I see how it forces its way through the landscape it does get a bit scary. 

(...)

The woman who helps me clean my room (it sounds more boojie than it is, believe me, I’m just chronically ill and need a lot of help) just came by to wish me a good trip tomorrow. That was very nice of her. 

I want to do more things by myself, it’s always embarrassing, when other people have to help you with basic stuff that other people manage easily, but...I have problems with my motivation. Sometimes I wonder if I have a slight case of ADHD. Maybe I’m just a lazy bum, who knows. The will is there, just...my body won’t move. I have two wolves in my chest...

Talking about wolves, my friend always teases me that I’m a furry. But liking Kemonomimis isn’t furry, right?! It’s just ears and tails? I still like a human...though, when I think about how Mia x Elk was my first ship...well, I guess low key furry. Ever-so-slightly. Like, you have to use a microscope to see it. A tiny furry hair on my clothes. 

Maybe I’m writing too much. But it keeps me relaxed while I wait to the day to end. Damn, it’s still 15:00. I could do something else...

But my heart is jumping out of my chest, and I have shivers. Maybe just a little more...?

In another post, maybe, this one’s long enough. 

[queenshelby]

My Friend’s Father (Part Five)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Mild Sexual References

Words: 1,848

Notes:

I have decided to make this into a series.

Alright, no judgment. This was a dream of mine and I felt like I had to write it down. Everyone in this Fic is over the age of 18 and this Fic is in no way based on Cillian’s real family life. It’s pure filth.

 *************************

YOUR POV

Two weeks had passed since you visited your friend Denise in Dublin and it was time for the annual Galway Arts Festival.

Denise had been working on a photography project for the past year and had been nominated for a student award in Galway as part of which ten of her photographs were being displayed during the Arts Festival.

Whilst, as you had expected, Cillian didn’t contact you, you knew that he would be there to support his daughter. Being an artist himself, he was very proud of her and her work and he supported her projects not only mentally but also financially with the caveat that she would finish her degree at Trinity College.

Unlike him, he didn’t want her to drop out of university even though she hated it and you certainly understood his reasoning.

Contrary to Denise, you had no creative bone in your body. You enjoyed art and theatre, but weren’t an artist or performer yourself. Instead, you were an A Grade Law Student who had become rather bored in Galway and had recently applied for a scholarship to Oxford University.

Reading was your passion and you had always been known as a geek. In school, you were the girl that no one liked, nerdy, not interested in fashion or social media and wearing braces, which, luckily, had been removed three years ago.

You were shy and it was only for Denise that you came out of your shell. She was popular in school, mostly due to her name, but also because she was generally confident and, over the years, she helped you gain confidence especially after you had left high school.

But, today, you knew you would be questioning your gained confidence once again since, first of all, you would be seeing Cillian again and the truth was that you couldn’t stop thinking about him in an intimate way and, secondly, you were featured completely naked on some of Denise’s photographs.

Whilst the photographs were artistic and not sexual in any way and your most intimate part wasn’t visible on them, it bothered you knowing that people you disliked would see you so vulnerable and you couldn’t remember why you had agreed to being photographed like that.

The other woman who Denise chose to photograph was Amalie. She was 23 and had been Denise’s friend for a while as well but, unlike you, she began modelling professionally when she was just 16. You all went to the same private school together and, clearly, her lifestyle had been largely financed by her parents. She always wore expensive clothes and had no interest in pursuing a career other than modelling, which barely sustained her lifestyle considering the few small jobs she got.

***

Just as you served your last cup of coffee to an elderly lady sitting in the corner of the café you were working at, you saw Denise, Amalie and two other friends of Denise walk in.

‘Hey guys, take a seat. I will be right with you. I am just about to finish my shift’ you said as you hung up your apron.

‘Please tell me you will get changed before the Gallery opening tonight?’ Amalie asked somewhat weirdly and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you sat down at the table with her, Denise and the others before ordering some coffees for yourselves.

‘No, I thought I would go like this’ you said sarcastically, looking down at your coffee-stained clothes.

‘I bought a dress for tonight’ you then said, after Amalie didn’t seem to sense your sarcasm.

‘Right’ she then said as she flicked through Instagram and you simply looked at Denise who shrug her shoulders.

‘What are you looking for?’ you asked curiously as her eyes seemed to be glued to her phone.

‘She is looking to find more photos of my dad and Laura Jennings’ Denise said, rolling her eyes.

‘Laura Jennings, as in the actress?’ you asked, causing Amalie to nod.

‘Yes, apparently they have been dating’ Amalie then confirmed, causing you to swallow harshly. You knew that you shouldn’t care but you couldn’t help it. Knowing that Cillian was seeing someone made you feel ill.  

‘And you care about that why?’ you then asked Amalie after an uncomfortable shiver ran down your spine.

‘Apparently, just like you, Amalie thinks my dad is a DILF’ Denise huffed out before telling you how disgusting you all were.

‘Well, he is though…he is super hot’ Amalie then joked before carrying on. ‘And I don’t understand how you don’t know about Laura Jennings and whether this is true or not. You need to find out’ Amalie then said but Denise simply shook her head.

‘My father doesn’t share this sort of stuff with me and I certainly don’t want to know about his sex life, thank you very much. In so far as I am concerned, he doesn’t have sex, ever…yuck! Also, I would appreciate if you could not talk about my dad anymore, please. It grosses me out’ Denise said and you knew that, all of this had become a common occurrence ever since the day the first episode of Peaky Blinders aired on BBC, a show which Denise refuses to watch herself because of the heavy sexual content and a show which you, only a week ago, had begun to binge watch.

Cillian’s POV

When Cillian walked into the basement after you had left, he immediately saw the small folded up note you had left him but, reading it, made him somewhat uncomfortable.

He was torn about what to do with it and certainly knew that he should ignore it. He couldn’t see you again even if he wanted to.

The fact that you were 23 years younger than him and that you were his daughter’s best friend made it all wrong and highly inappropriate and he didn’t know what had gotten into him in the first place when he gave into you.

He had never felt attracted towards you in any sort of way until that last visit which was the first time had seen you since you and your family had moved away.

You changed in many ways and he wasn’t sure what it was that he liked about you. But what he knew was that it was more than just sexual attraction, which was usually something he knew how to supress.

With that in mind, he placed your note into his wallet and decided to ignore it for now. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to throw it out.

***

With his bags packed it was time for him to return to Manchester and resume filming of the final season of Peaky Blinders.

The first week of filming went well and Cillian decided to spend the weekend with his friend, fellow actress Laura Jennings. Cillian and her had developed a friend with benefits sort of relationship. No strings attached and no feelings involved. After his divorce from Denise’s mother, he wasn’t ready for anything else and Laura would certainly not have been the type of woman he would have wanted a relationship with in the first place.

Unlike him, she wasn’t press shy and, whilst they kept their arrangement a secret as best as they could, she was otherwise quite active on social media.

Cillian, on the other hand, only maintained a private Instagram account with the sole purpose of being able to check on his children. Whilst they were adults, he was still worried about them, especially Denise who had recently gotten herself in a lot of trouble after distancing herself from this Jeremy boy.

***

‘Another wine?’ Laura asked as Cillian was relaxing on top of the doonas, wearing nothing but his black Calvin Klein briefs, after they had spent the last hour doing exactly what friends with benefits would do after not having seen each other for over two weeks due to busy filming schedules.

‘Yes please…thanks’ he responded as he reached for his phone after a notification had popped up.

It was his daughter Denise who had posted on Instagram and, since she hadn’t posted for a while, he decided to check it out, hoping that she wasn’t with Jeremy again.

To his surprise, three new pictures of Denise and her friends showed up when he opened the APP and, one of them, there was you.

In the picture, you were wearing accompanied by a man in his late twenties, wearing a suit while you were wearing a dark blue dress and he couldn’t help but wonder who the man by your side was.

You looked simply stunning, with your hair long and open and your shoulders exposed. You were wearing only a little bit of make up and showed your beautiful smile.  

‘There you go Mr Murphy’ Laura then said as she returned to the bedroom with another glass of wine, pulling Cillian’s phone out of his hand and climbing on top of him.

‘Round Two?’ she then asked eagerly as she reached for another condom, but Cillian’s thoughts were elsewhere entirely.

‘Maybe tomorrow, I am tired. It has been a long week, sorry’ he explained, causing Laura to pout with disappointment.

But the second round never eventuated as Cillian left Laura’s house the following morning to drive back to Manchester to resume filming.

On his way back to Manchester, he called his daughter Denise to check on her and while he did, he enquired about your companion on the Instagram posts.

‘Why do you want to know?’ Denise asked somewhat confused but Cillian played it cool.

‘He looks familiar, that’s all. Didn’t he go to your school?’ he then asked, playing dumb.

‘Oh god no, he is 29. His name is Connor and he is an accountant. Y/N wouldn’t date anyone our age. You know she isn’t a normal 21-year-old’ Denise joked, referring to your nerdiness and intellect.

‘Apparently not’ Cillian chuckled before asking another question about the stranger on the picture. ‘So, they are dating?’ he asked.

‘I think they went on two or three dates or something. Why do you care?’ Denise asked.

‘No reason. I was just wondering’ Cillian confirmed before changing the topic.

   Tag List:

@lilymurphy03@deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall@elenavampire21 @hanster1998@mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-your-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang@0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney@missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @chocolatehalo @vhscillian @ysmmsy @littlewierdalien @crazymar15  @stickyknightflowerbailiff @im-constantly-fangirling @goldensunflowe-r  @tellingyouastory  @captivatedbycillianmurphy​  @namelesslosers​  @littlewhiterose​  @ttzamara​  @ttzamara @cilleveryone  ​

@peaky-cillian​

@severewobblerlightdragon​  @ysmmsy​  

[angry-geese]

To You Someday

Choso x Reader

Warnings: sfw. mention of periods, and blood, but overall its sfw. afab reader.

Summary: some very self indulgent fluff with choso comforting the reader when they're on their period. i needed a bit of fluff to balance out the fact that for the last like month ive posted nothing but smut

Word Count: 1.7k

Without fail, once a month you have this conversation. And once a month, without fail, he thinks you're dying.

He didn't quite understand the first time you explained it. You aren't dying, which is what caught him most off guard. He saw the slightest bit of blood on the sheets once—an accident really, you didn't know your period had started until a few hours after it happened—and quite literally thought you were dying. You spent a while explaining to a frantic, grieving Choso that you weren't about to die. Nobody can bleed for that long and not die. You have to tell him that you, in fact, can, and that this is something a lot of people deal with. He gets that it's normal, but seeing you in pain stresses him out.

It doesn't seem to matter how many times you tell him to not fuss over you, he always will. Worrying is in his nature. You're precious to him, he's not about to let you slip through his fingers. God forbid you try to lift something heavy, or try to do anything physically taxing. Choso insists on doing everything for you. However well meaning, his presence is a bit suffocating at times.

Having spent most of his life in a test tube, with only the faintest notion of what goes on around him, modern life was a bit of a shock. He had little notion of how the modern world works. Everything seems to happen so fast, the world is so loud and bright and busy. He’s overwhelmed. It feels like the second he gets the hang of one thing, something else comes up entirely. But even as he’s frustrated, or down on himself for not getting something, you’re always there to comfort him. You never judge him for needing help.

You like to think he’s adjusted well over the past year. With the help of you and Yuji, he’s settled into a normal(ish) life. It’s hard to consider life normal when you’re constantly dealing with curses, but there’s some sense of normalcy to it.

You were one of the first people to help him. It was a long process. Even today he’s still adjusting as the world changes around him. He owes you a debt he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to pay you back for. You tell him he doesn't owe you anything, but he still insists on paying you back. With what, he’s not certain yet.

He didn't understand his feelings for you at first. Choso cared about you deeply—he cared about Yuji—but his love for you was so much different than his love for his brother. Choso has always been affectionate. Not just to Yuji, but to you too. When you spend so much time together, it's hard to not love someone, even if just a little bit. He saw you as a friend; and then he didn't.

He found his every waking moment consumed by the thought of you. You weaved your way into every corner of his mind. From the moment he woke up, to the moment he shut his eyes, he was thinking of—or seeing things—that reminded him of you. Even in his dreams too. You made his heart race every time you talked to him, to the point he thought he was dying. Everything made his heart flutter. His brother had to explain to him that no- that's normal when you have a crush.

He loved you.

He’s never been so in-love.

He was head-over-heels, in fact. He still is. Even as you moved past the honeymoon phase of your relationship, he still was so hopelessly in love. Maybe it never ended, the two of you only grew used to being around each other. The others constantly make remarks about how they’ve never seen two people so in-love.

Yuji was the first to help him figure out his feelings. Choso had no clue what a crush was. He knew he wanted something more than friendship. He wasn't sure what. But he wanted it. Though you were less vocal with your feelings, everyone around you knew. From lingering gazes, to your eagerness to spend time with him, it was obvious. It seemed like everyone but the both of you knew.

Yuji wanted to help him plan some big reveal. He spent weeks scheming an elaborate plan. It had to be special. He wanted it to be a big day for the two of you. He wanted you to know, but he wanted his reveal to be special.

Choso’s confession was entirely accidental.

You had come back from a job injured. It wasn't anything fatal, but he had warned you not to go alone, and in turn spent the entire day worrying about you. So when he came back to find you bleeding out all over your bathroom counter, he panicked. A little blood never bothered him. Until it was your blood. He pulled you into an impulsive kiss.

And when he told you how he felt, you grinned wider than he’d ever seen. He wasn't surprised that you felt the same way, more that he was relieved. Surprise isn't the right word for it. Yuji let it slip that you felt the same way.

It’s become a nightly routine for the two of you. In the evening, while watching a movie or getting settled down for the night, he’ll have you play with his hair. He says it helps him sleep. You can believe it. He’s usually knocked out within minutes of you starting. Tonight is no different. He drags you out into the living room, sitting you down on the couch. He picked the movie- one recommended by Yuji. It was a bit longer than you usually watch, but you don't have anything planned tomorrow, so you don't mind staying up a bit late. Work can wait. You deserve a day off.

As you settle into your nightly routine, he’s by your side, insisting on helping you. His presence is a bit more overbearing than usual, but you don't think much of it. It doesn't take him long to get comfortable, settled between your legs, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Choso’s head leans back against your stomach, hands folded in his lap. He lets out a soft sigh as you comb his hair out of his face with your fingers, tucking it behind his ear. Your nails are getting long, and feel nice against his scalp. His hair is softer than it looks. It's getting long- it's past his shoulders now. Goosebumps raise along his shoulders as your fingers brush across his skin.

You’re the first person to touch him in such a way. You’re the first to hold him like he’s precious. Before you, his only physical contact was from fighting. Affection in such a way was completely foreign to him. He was touch starved, to say the least.

And then you came along and looked at him like he was the world.

He shifts so he’s nearly sitting in your lap, arms looped around your neck. His face buries in yours—his—shirt. Choso has lots of baggy, comfy clothes that you constantly steal. It smells like you, and laundry soap, and a bit of your shampoo. He likes letting you borrow them, you always return them smelling like you. As his head leans against your chest, he can hear your heartbeat. It's steady, but picks up in pace as he stretches to press a kiss to your lips. Blush dusts his cheeks, turning the tips of his ears and nose pink.

Choso runs cold naturally. Most of the time he refuses to cuddle unless you’re wrapped in blankets. You have to reassure him that you’re not as fragile as he seems to think you are. He knows. But that doesn't stop him from worrying.

Painkillers weren't exactly working. The pain is manageable, albeit coming and going in waves. Manageable is about the best things get. Choso seems to know something is up before you do. Call it a sixth sense or whatnot. Though you don't appear to be ill, you're not acting like your usual self. He doesn't remember you getting injured. You're acting like you're injured. That worries him greatly.

"You're hurt?" He asks.

“I’m just a bit tired.” You say. "It's nothing to worry about."

Slowly he untangles himself from your limbs. You try to pull him back into your lap, but let him go when he insists.

“Let me take care of you,” he says, gently pushing your shoulders back.

There’s no use arguing. He’s hellbent in his ways, especially when they come to you.

You wouldn't say you were paying attention to the movie, so much as you were present for it's duration. You flop back on the couch, your attention turned to the tv.

He tries to remember everything you normally do that helps. Heating pads, tea, fluffy blankets and extra pillows. Small creature comforts he’s never really lived with before. He didn't see a need for them until he had them, and then he found himself unable to live without them.

Choso disappears into the kitchen for a moment, returning with a cup of tea, and a heating pad. Heat helps sore muscles. As he settles back onto the couch, he pulls you into his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist, your back against his chest. The warmth helps with your cramps a bit. The heat feels nice against your sore muscles.

His fingers trace across your skin, memorizing every inch of your body like he’s reading a book of braille, soft and loving. Choso isn't shy in how he appreciates your body. He could spend hours running his hands over your body, tracing every dip and curve of your form. He wants to know your body better than he does his own; what you like, how you feel, what you taste like. In public he has to have an arm around you, or his fingers laced with yours. Everyone has to know you’re his.

One of your hands finds his, your fingers lacing together. He holds your hand to his cheek before planting a kiss on your knuckles. Soft locks of his hair pool around his head, tickling your neck.

He’s never been so hopelessly in love.

Though your eyelids begin to feel heavy, you still fight to stay awake. He pulls the blanket from the back of the couch, tucking it around you. The warmth, combined with the feeling of his arms around you, threatens to lull you to sleep.

Choso is there when you fall asleep. And he’ll be there long after you wake up.

[bluewinnerangel]

Hi there! I can to you from twopoppie’s blog! I sent her an ask about someone who’s willing to explain recent Larry theories! Is that someone you?!

Hi! Happy you found me, and of course I’d love to :)

So I'm going to be real honest here, I was working on this loads today. I made a big and I mean BIG draft, like a detailed long collection of shit they pulled and explaining each thing but the further I went the more uncomfortable I got. Like, gathering everything together in one single post. But I definitely want to discuss these things, perhaps I'll divide the things I wrote into seperate posts at some point, but for now I just wanna ask you instead to be more specific which theories to explain? I'd be very happy to go into detail about individual ones, and I might have a lot of shit ready in my drafts because of it now lol.

Anyway, I copied most of it to another draft but left some, have some very loud recent-ish larrying bits:

Feb 28 2020 (Harry’s Falling MV released but also:) Harry did an interview, where he said

“the fish is uh... he’s traveling at the moment, he’s on a gap year, and hopefully he will come back safe. We’re taking a little time apart”

while Louis’ Tour would start only 5 days later.

Same days:

They then geared the larrying in full speed as these dorks were in some kind of out-bluegreening eachother competition. It’s not that I want to be that person that starts screaming everytime they wear something remotely blue-and-green and call it “larry proof”, but, they seem to avoid it like their lives depend on it and then suddenly boom there is blue-and-green 3 days in a row???

Harry papped march 1st - doing interviews march 2nd - and louis’ video that released march 3rd (explained here):

July/September 2020 - during lockdown eleanor posts this one pic of louis to her instagram stories, and puts it in her highlights (it’s still there in the uh dogs folder), this is like one of the very few Louis-with-eleanor moments of the past... years? But then about 2 months later Harry "makes it his" in a way when he takes a picture with a fan wearing the same shirt... And it’s a vintage shirt, and Harry doesn’t wear Umbro (Louis often does). Sooo that’s the same damn shirt. Here a good tag about it.

Dec 12 2020 - this idiot wears a MASSIVE MASSIVE H during his liveshow. We barely see him and the one, the one show he does he shows up like this:

Really could have worn anything, chooses a plain black shirt with a ridiculous H on it. He really must love Hotels. The fact that Harry often goes by H, signs of his tweets with it and all just makes it 10x worse lol.

Jan 4/5 2021 (same day holivia happened) people who bought Harry's merch (that wasn't advertised to have bluegreen hearts on them) started receiving them, once opened it turned out they were literally the most vile bluegreening mess...

Jan 31 2021 - I went into deep detail about the spotify backgrounds but ill just link this here instead, basically Louis put Harry's tattoos on his spotify on during his Walls anniversary and Harry's birthday. He also tweeted a song "Maybe Tomorrow"

considering it was H's birthday the next day and it wasn’t even an answer to the question it looks like he really really just wanted to post that song that day and took whatever thing that came closest to a relevant question to answer this to. To make things worse, the song is about maybe tomorrow finding your way home and includes rainbows.

I don't really know if that answered anything, but I hope that helps. Anyway, my inbox is open :)

[b-blushes]

i am very actively practicing being neutral or positive about things (not in a toxic positivity way though, i love having learned to cry about things just for the catharsis, it's truly great to be able to feel feelings), but one thing that consistently is extremely hard to do that about is being ill 24/7. Like. gradually becoming less able to concentrate before becoming unwell to the point where it's hard to talk (type, because i'm not seeing anyone in person) to friends bc my head's swimming too much and becoming painful so fast (even this far into this post!!!!) and i can't keep a coherent trail of thought because Something Begins To Happen To My Brain. Even now i've forgotten what i'm saying but i hate keeping it to myself always so. Anyway it sucks being sick always and potentially feeling like you're getting worse and not understanding the mechanisms of your illnesses and not being able to access proper and multidisciplinary diagnosis or in-depth discussion with clinicians. I am always holding out hope that the next doctor i see will be the one who is thorough and patient and has heard of the symptoms and conditions i'm trying to talk to them about. maybe there's something that will help me some day or that even if i can't improve more than i have there's someone out there that can help me understand it and make it a bit less horrifying when i have days/weeks of worsening weakness or can't think/write/'talk' straight! big picture i'm fine and functioning and will regain the brain power to talk to my friends properly again! (I am willing into being) but there's *so many things* i want to do but just can't because i can't keep my brain on track for long enough. for months/years i've been wanting to get back into making videos but can't write/edit words/film/edit footage for relibably long enough to make a video that expresses the fleeting feelings i want to string together to actually *say something* about it other than 'i'm sick' or 'X helps me' i want to dig my teeth into things so badly but just cannot!!!!! because i'm sick and The Symptoms! Like. I'm fine it's just been hot today and i suspect i might have a condition that explains why that means i've been extra ill but yet again i can't yet find a doctor who will help with it and sometimes the only thing i can do is say 'yes it sucks to be Sick Always and to be stuck in the same place because there is no 'getting better'' Tomorrow or maybe even in a few minutes i'll be okay and excited for things again, just, this is 5 minutes of that post that's like 'actually i'm not being so brave about it aaaaaaah!', and my friends, i don't know how to speak to you about it directly because it's just so big and mostly i (like us all) are broadly fine and safe and coping and maybe it sucks to make it a public post but maybe you feel the same and it helps a little to know someone else is in it too, like it's less of a loss? big picture i am fine small picture i'm sick of being sick and while this is not a helpful for a community post in the sense of having much productive to do maybe you are also tired of being privately unwell and having it together as best you can all the time. i'm gonna go and make dinner for myself and practice caring for myself and remember all the good and improvements there have been! And i hope anyone else who's having a 'actually i'm not being so brave about it' time can also do a tiny thing to make some sort of small easing of Everything for yourself <3

[beepbeepdespair]

I want to talk (a lot) about Regular Factory Escape Room

i apologise in advance for this but ive just finished the game and i have SO many thoughts. some about my experiences, some about what i think this game is meant to be - a warning. but ill get to that later

first i think its hilarious that i had to crack out the walkthrough for literally the first puzzle. i was so close to solving it but still. i mean ive known im dumb for ages you dont have to prove it to me lmao. ah well happens to the best of us

secondly for anyone who didnt try to read the company logo in particular, PLEASE do. i still have not gotten over 'regular factory - what we manufacture is none of your business'. its like the stranger from tma is running it

talking of tma this game made the mistake of fuelling my transition into an extinction avatar wannabe because that one puzzle reminded me that chemical warning symbols exist. ive developed a bit of a hyperfixation on them aesthetically now which is difficult to explain lmao

another thing i wanna talk about. the RAISE puzzle. the hiding of the I and E under those table things with the shadows making them almost impossible to see. that was so rude lmao /lh

also. i thought i was being SO clever by putting sophia's (the android you do the dna and rna thing on) name into the database but nothing came up so either they just didnt do anything for that name or shes fucking dead. there was a female looking android in the waste room maybe that was her idk

talking of the waste room i HATED that. i have very bad automatonophobia and i really thought something in that room was gonna move. horrific. which makes it even more ironic that the mc ended up being dumped there in the room i hated so much jfnfjdjjd at least hes with sophia i guess??? what a way to go

the saddest part of it all i think was that it said olivaw had been activated in june 2032 and it said on the whiteboard that shift was early july 2032 so he was only a month old :( also the fact that the alpha area keycard was in that androids hand makes me think that they did what the mc did, got too curious and paid the price for it... god these games get deep lmao

okay this is the main thing i wanted to say though. why i think this game is a warning. and its to do with giselle. oddly enough thats one of the other names i go by- anyway yeah if her tenth anniversary was the day of olivaw's shift (which i think it was because the email said 'today' and the other screen had chocolate cake on it), that would mean that for her to have been there 10 years on the 7th july 2032 she'd be starting there TOMORROW (this post was made on the 6th july 2022). terrifying. those dates make me think that this is supposed to be a warning of what happens when science goes too far and how close we are to what i would call a dystopia. or at least thats how i interpret it lmao

last thing - can you imagine how horrific this would be though? turning up at your night shift to fix a production line and by the end of the night you find out you're an android? i hate it. anyway yeah ill shut up now sorry for putting yall through this lmao

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Can you do a list of Mic being pure w/ his favorite student, (y/n) (like, he’s not afraid to show it), but she’s living with her friend and their family since she’s alone in Japan, and trying to keep it a secret. But when he finds out he’s just “ASDFGHJKLWHAT”, and he’s trying to help her with so many things, which soon evolves to “custody of child—”.

https://dontbesoweirdkira.tumblr.com/post/189518600672/hey-its-me-again-i-hope-you-are-still-open-for

A/N: I first would like to say I ALSO HAVE EATEN A NUCLEAR REACTOR...it tasted like radiation and strawberries yummy!  Here’s your soft present mic X student. I hope you enjoy.  

(I kind of made it where you aren’t fully living with your friend. Just bouncing from the streets to her house every so often if that makes sense??)Requests open

-So at first Mic didn’t notice anything was up...well no he did but he kind of brushed it off since he didn’t want to cross any boundaries.

-Like when he asked for your parents signature but they were always somehow “out of town” or “working overtime” 

-Or when he was going to offer you a ride home since it was pretty late but you just insisted to walk by yourself. And how you didn’t bother to call them and let them know you were going to be home a bit later than usual. 

-He was always curious but like i said he didn’t want to cross a boundary and make you feel uncomfortable about something so personal. Besides how would he bring it up?

-”Hey Y/N, Why do you always conveniently “forget” to fill out your home address on forms?” 

-Yeah see his dilemma?^ And like what if it was nothing and it really was just a convenience.  It seemed better to leave it alone and not worry. You’d tell him if something was going on, right?

-Maybe one day you’re talking to your friend and He’s just around the corner so he overhears the conversation.

-”Hey Y/N, my family is going out of town for a few weeks. I- i would ask if you could come with so you’ll have some place to stay but we are going out of the county and you know how that is..”

-”Oh..um..Don’t worry, I'll figure something out.”

-”Are you sure? I- i can always leave the house key so you can have somewhere safe to go? But uhm, My cousin might come over every so often to watch a game or to check the house so be alert and make sure he doesn’t see you.” 

-”N-No it’s okay, seriously. I’ll find somewhere to go, thank you though. ”

-”Well, I'll leave the key under the doormat if you change your mind, we’re leaving in the afternoon tomorrow so after then the place will be yours for a bit.I’ll text you later, ‘kay?”

-He’s shocked?? Like he thought maybe your at home life wasn’t good or maybe you were embarrassed about living in a low income place, but you were homeless?? And you’ve been staying with your friends every so often?? Why didn’t you tell him? Did you not feel comfortable? He’s in this weird state of shock and acknowledgement.

-For the rest of the school day hE Is cOnTemPlaTiNg oN WhaT tO Do. He’s not sure how he should bring it up or even if he should bring it up. 

- *is casually being torn apart internally as he’s trying to teach english*

-*dEeP sPaCe STarE while he is standing at the board pointing to the sentence structures*

-”Sensei, are you oka-”

-”IMTHINKINGASHARDASICANTOFIGUREOUTASOLUTIONDONTPRESSUREMEoKaY.”

-lolol but once classes are over he taps you on the shoulder and asks if he could walk with you home for a bit. You visibly nervous, you reject and say “Umm It’s all right Mr.Hizashi, you’re busy and I don't want you to take up any of your time plus it’s late and I'm tired and i have to go and-”

-”Y/n...You don’t have to make up excuses, I know you don’t have anywhere to stay.”

-stopping in your tracks, your eyes went wide and you faced him 

-”I heard you talking to that friend this morning.”

-M-mr.Hizashi I can explain-”

-cutting you off once again he begins “Hey, you don’t have to do any of that. It’s your business. But I don’t want you to just roaming around or staying anywhere alone anymore, okay? If you would like, I have an extra bedroom at my house, you can stay there until we get everything sorted.”

-”No..Mr.Hizashi...It’s okay..I’ll be okay, I’ve always have. Plus you have been such a great teacher and already went out of your way more than what I could have asked...staying with you would be too much.”

-”Y/n, it’s okay to ask for help. I seriously don’t mind. At least stay for the night so you can eat and have a roof over your head, then in the morning we’ll figure something out.”

-You hesitantly accepted but you told him that you’d be out of his hair as soon as the next morning hit.

-That night going to his house was...nice to say the least. The guest bedroom that he had was bigger than your friend’s kitchen and nicer than any place that you’ve stayed at. It really was heaven. So warm and cosy. There was a nice sense of nostalgia and security, something you’ve haven’t felt in years. His home was somewhere anyone would want to live in their whole lives. 

-”Once you’ve settled down, you can come to the dining room. I ordered some take out, I figured you’d be hungry.”

-For a moment you sat on the fluffy bed and just took in everything. God was so good to you right now and honestly you thanked him. Although it frustrates you to think that this would only last for a second and you’d be back on the streets, roaming around. Yeah yeah, Hizashi wants to help you but you knew soon he’d get tired of your presence in his house…..they all did. 

-Taking a deep breath, you went to go meet hizashi in the dining room.

-He welcomed you then motioned you to sit down at any of the seats at the table. “Oh hey, there’s miss america. You may sit anywhere you’d like. And help yourself to the food here.”

-You sat down across from him, only not to look at him just to have your eyes on the empty plate in front of you. You didn’t really touch any of the food actually or even make a sound. You weren’t trying to be rude or anything, you just..there was a lot on your mind and facing hizashi seemed difficult.

-”Are you okay Y/N? I hope sushi is okay. I- i meant to um ask what you would like to eat first. I’m sorry.”

-”No I’m sorry for-,”  twiddling your thumbs for a moment you then looked towards the blonde fellow “Mr.Hizashi..My parents left when I was around three but they left me with my aunt. She was a very good person and took good care of me but she got very ill...and um you know. At first I was living in her apartment but i couldn’t pay for it when it was time for rent so..I stayed with my friend for a couple of months. But her parents kind of got tired of me staying there and it was this thing, so I lied and told them I found a family member to stay with. And um up until now I've been staying on the streets. Sometimes having a sleepover once every so often.”

-”Y/n…”

-”I didn’t tell you because I was so scared… I didn't know what to do and I really really don’t want to go in foster care or anything so I just thought I was better off keeping it from you. But I guess it backfired anyways because you still found out haha….I’m sorry Hizashi. I hope you don’t think of me any less. I- it was a tough situation and all and you know how that is...”

-He immeadately stood up, walked over to you and hugged you. It was with So mUcH compassion and genuine love. You really was his favorite student no scratch that HIS FAVORITE HUMAN i swear he would end the world for you. 

-He gave you a little cheek kiss and was like “I’m not letting anyone put you in foster care and I'm sure as hell am not kicking you out even if i have to take custody of you.”

-”w-wait what? wAiT wHaT???”

-”KID IM fucking keeping you here safe with me even if i’m in court all year. We are going to make this work somehow, you aren’t doing this alone anymore. Do you understand?”

-YeAh hEs cRyInG iM cRyinG yOuRe CryInG wE aLl CryinG 

-BRO YOU ARE UGLY CRYING NOT NO SOFT CUTE CRY LIKE HAHA YOU SOUND LIKE A WALRUS TRYING TO SAY ‘t-tH-Th-HaNKy-yyy-YoUUU-UOi  mR hIzZaShIiIi”

-He whipes the tears of your cheeks and ruffles your hair 

-”it’ll be okay Y/N, I promise.”

-I swear he’s like rushing to the computer and trying to figure out how to adopt you.

-”HoW tO aDoPt a ChILD wHen You aRe a hEro.”

-There's an actual wiki-how about it???????

-No but he’s really doing his research and is visiting lawyers trying to find the right one. He has them immediately looking into everything and making sure that his chances of getting you is as high as possible. 

-He’s up late at night on the phone, emailing,  and writing

-He has pounds and pounds of evidence that he is the most fit person to take care of you. He is not playing whatsoever

-He already let’s you decorate and he even gives you an office so you can do work or whatever. He most definitely brought you clothes and stuff for your room.

-When the courts and everything finally approves it after a long year of fighting, he picked you up and spun you around.

-”What did I tell you?!? I was not going to lose you and i made sure of that. And starting today and the rest of  forever you’ll never have to be alone.”

-BonUs

-100% takes you out somewhere super fun and nice. 

-”Wait we must take a selfie, The first day we are legally Father-daughter!”

-The most chaotic duo now, Everyone at school knows he adopted you and like he won't let anyone forget it.

-MISSSSSS AMERICAAAAAAA, is now, MISSSSSSS HIZAAAAASSSHHHHHIIIIIIII.

-”WHEEEEERRREEEE ISSS MYYYY LITTLE MUSHROOM???”

-”YYYYYY/NNNNN YOU LEFT YOUR BAG IN MY MINIVAN.”

-He has a minivan now. It also has a ‘Yeah I’m a soccer dad and i’m proud’ sticker on it.

-He joined the PTA 

-HE IS SOOO BIASED I SWEAR NO ONE IS ABOVE YOU IN HIS CLASS AND NO ONE BETTER SAY ANYTHING ABOUT IT

-Always hugging you and giving you little cheek kisses when he sees you in the halls

-Made a titled track called “Now a dad”

-he most definitely wears ‘Best Dad’ shirts now. He also is in a ‘Single dad’s in Japan’ group now

-”I think we look just alike, Don’t we Y/N?” you both smiled and posed at the same time

[quirklessidiot]

Title: tough luck Pairing: GN! Reader x Suna Rintarou [college au] Genre: domestic fluff and my bad comedy (teeny tiny angst if u squint)

Synopsis: “This is what some people call a bad day, Rin-chan.”               [this request of suna rintarou + fluff ]

Warnings: minor bad language but thats it Notes: 

omg i was finally able to write something fluffy yay! Hshdhdhd the mind- after all that angst. I hope yall enjoy this domestic college au suna hakhak where can i get one of these.

im posting three requests per week (its to help writers block and well, my english in general, they’ll be posted on random days) ill probably limit it to one when school starts though sike currently have four more requests to finish aye.

navigation

Thesis papers be damned.

You might as well burn your group mates to the depths of hell for leaving you to dry these past few weeks. They weren’t even replying to your messages tonight and you were having a mock presentation first thing in the morning.

You aggressively started to mix more cake batter after frosting the cupcakes.

“Baby?” a low voice echoes throughout the quietness of the kitchen, your steely gaze snaps to find your half-awake boyfriend standing there in his sleepwear, his raven hair completely a mess, if it were a normal day, you’d coo and snuggle next to your good-looking man and annoy the fuck out of him but no, you just had to be in a bad mood, “It’s four am, what’s with all the sugar overload?”

“I’m celebrating the death of my sleep schedule and my sanity. Want a cupcake, baby?” a sarcastic grin makes its way to your lips and honestly, despite his deadpan features, Suna was very worried. He had been bugging you these past weeks to stop living in coffee and instant noodles so he decided to crash your place tonight to scold you, cook yourself a hot meal, and smother you to sleep with his hugs but it seemed like it didn’t work at all and you just violently wormed your way out of his grasp.

He slowly made his way to you, eyes half-lidded, and grabbed the rubber spatula from your hands and snuggled his head on your shoulders like a kitten, “Sleep, Y/N. It’s not worth to stress over those shits.” his voice was blank as usual but you knew he meant well.

“Well those shits will be my downfall tomorrow if they can’t answer the panel’s questions.” You spat as you cracked the eggs harshly on the batter and snatched back the rubber spatula from his hand, letting out a loud huff as you continued to mix aggressively.

“Y/N…”

Silence.

“Y/N…” 

“Fine.” you grumbled, “Just let me-”

“I’ll clean up.” Suna sighs, grabbing the spatula once again from your hands, “Go to sleep, I’ll wake you up at seven am, just in time for your class, right?”

“But i can-”

“Y/N.” Suna narrows his eyes, determined to get the last say between you two.

“Ugh.” You grumbled, shoulders slouched, “six thirty-”

“No, seven am. Your class doesn’t start until nine. You need more rest. No take-backs.”

Giving your boyfriend one last stink-eye, you slowly trudged yourself to the bedroom and just flopped yourself towards the bed. Ah, how bad could this day even get?

You shouldn’t have jinxed it.

You were almost late since the professor had moved the presentation time to eight am, thank god your apartment was near your uni, your boyfriend literally watched you shove the most decent outfit you could find and throw yourself out the door in a hurry. In the midst of the presentation, your stomach started to grumble too since you weren’t able to grab a cracker or your usual bread to go before class.

Even worse, your stink of an eye group mates weren’t able to get their parts right.

You were downright ready to throttle them, thank god that this was just a mock defense.

Your mood doesn’t exactly brighten even after the defense, you sit there and look like those cartoons who had fumes coming out of their ears. After class ended, you decided to bring it up to your professor and he tells you it’s too late to take the names out.

Your mood dampens even more.

Exiting the classroom with a scrunched up feature, you stop to see a very familiar figure standing there holding a brown paper bag and a cup of steaming hot milk on his other.

“Mornin’” Suna quietly greets you as he gives you a light feathery kiss on your cheek.

You blink.

“Shouldn’t you be in class right now?”

“The professor was absent, he had some staff meeting so I decided to get you a bento box and some milk. Try to avoid coffee for the time being.” Suna explains as he transfers the cup of milk to his other hand so that he could hold your hand, “Let’s have breakfast, Y/N. You don’t have class until another hour, right?”

Before you could protest, your boyfriend drags you to the field and under the shade of a large tree to eat the bento he bought.

Suna quietly listens as you rant on about how annoying and how much you want to throttle your good-for-nothing groupmates, occasionally wiping the little crumbs on the side of your cheek, “...You should take it easy.” Suna simply replies after you finish your rant, “You’ll get a cold if you keep this up.”

“My okaasan will definitely let me live in the cold if I fail a class.” You shiver at the mental image of your mother giving you a sermon. Suna just sighs as he fixes up your trash, he could never argue with you.

“Come,” he stands up and holds out his hand for you again, “I’ll walk you to your next class.”

The sun shines brightly yet your day doesn’t get any better, you had a pop quiz on one of your weakest subjects and you couldn’t even finish the readings since you were too preoccupied with your thesis and your groupmates.

You inwardly let out a groan as you made your way to the library, your phone rings and your brows contort in confusion at the name of your boyfriend. “Hello?”

“How’s class?”

“You’re such a miracle worker.” You sighed, “You always know when to call.”

“That bad?”

“Everything just sucks, ah life feel so shitty these days-” You confessed, scratching your head in annoyance.

“Hey.” He cuts you off, voice dead serious, “It’s just a bad day, Y/N. Don’t worry, we all have these days. How many classes do you still have?”

“Just two.” you huffed out, completely frustrated by how bad your day was going.

“Take a deep breath and drink some water, alright? I’ll see you after class, let's walk home and order some takeout then sleep early alright? My class ends the same time as you today.”

“B-But…” You stop protesting, realizing that Suna would shut down the idea. Saying goodbye to your boyfriend, you take in a deep breath and do as he instructed. 

Thankfully nothing major happens on the next subject and as you were about to proceed to your last class, Suna texts you that he has some milk bread on your locker and your favorite banana milk. A small smile made its way to your lips, one more subject and this wretched day was over then you’ll get to snuggle next to your boyfriend.

Again, you shouldn’t have jinxed it.

Someone had accidentally spilled the banana milk you were drinking all over your white shirt along with his cup of mocha drink (which thank god was cold because if it wasn’t, you’d be suffering a burn)

You had to sit through the whole class with the sticky feeling on your chest and that ugly slosh, you really should’ve brought a jacket today.

“Hey baby- jesus christ, Y/N what happened?”

It’s quite hard to gouge a reaction from your boyfriend most of the times but you can’t believe that something as easy as the big ugly slosh of mocha and banana milk stain on your plain white shirt would actually shock him.

You pressed your lip into a tight line, pissed, as you open your arms, “This,” you exclaimed, “This is what some people call a bad day, Rin-chan.”

Suna shakes his head at your antic and just takes his sports jacket to place it on your figure, he’s awfully reminded of a Pomeranian when you’re angry but he’d never say that out loud. 

Instead he softly grabs your hand and tugs it lightly, your quiet on your way home. He notices that maybe the fatigue is slowly sinking in, so the minute you guys enter your apartment, he urges you to change into your pajamas while he orders take out.

After a quick bite, you lay on top of him and snuggle on his neck, humming an unfamiliar tune as you draw circles on his chest, “Thanks.”

“Hm?’

“For being there.” You hummed, “I wouldn’t know what I’d do if you weren’t my boyfriend. So yeah, thanks...”

Suna feels a small smile make its way to his lips, he doesn’t respond, instead he just kisses your head and lets you lay on his arms, “Hey Y/N…” He paused and when he notices that you’re soundly asleep on his arms, his smile turns wider. i love you, he thinks randomly as he watches you sleep, “Goodnight.” he whispers instead out loud, kissing your forehead again and hugging you into his arms.

[taeyohonic]

Just a Taste – Chapter One

Summary: Being asked to take a blood test just to work at a merchandise booth should have been the first read flag for you. But you just gave them a sample of your blood in exchange for a very much needed paycheck and a summer job during BTS’ world tour. After the youngest member of the popular kpop band finds himself in a difficult situation, you come to realize that this wasn’t the last time you shed blood for your idols. or: You becomes the new donor for seven bloodthirsty idols, who seem to be way too interested in their new food source.

Pairing: OT7xfem!Reader

Genre: Fantasy, Smut, (Fluff)

Warnings: blood, they aren’t very nice to you...

Words: 2.7k

Chapters: Prologue, Chap. I, Chap. II, Chap. III, Chap. IV, Chap. V, Chap. VI, Chap. VII

“What do you mean ‘all the bags are gone’?”

Your supervisor does not look amused. The girl with an abnormal amount of glitter on her face does not look amused. Hell, even you don’t look amused. The stadium hasn’t even begun to let the fans in and your merch booth ran out of the official “speak yourself”-bag ten minutes ago.

This job is in the top three most gruesome things you had to do for money. But money was tight, and you didn’t want to survive another summer on ramen and cheap wine. The job ad was harmless at first glance. Just another sales job. But they promised good pay and international traveling, which was enough to let your eyes linger. There was no company mentioned, just a post box.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise when BigHit responded to your application a week later. With Bangtan’s rising popularity and the massive size of their tour, extra staff had to be hired. Still, the ARMY in you couldn’t contain her excitement. This was a big deal for you. Touring with one of your favorite kpop bands, traveling to Japan and getting first dips on all the merchandise? This was a no brainer. Hell, you would have even paid them to tag along. So you dressed to impress when you attended the interview, keeping your giddiness locked behind a professional smile.

“You want what?”, you ask – disbelieve coloring your voice.

“A blood test”, the interviewer repeats nonchalantly without looking up from her questionnaire.

Was this normal procedure? You had only ever worked in your aunt’s bookstore during senior year of high school and at a fast food place all through undergrad. Neither asked for your freaking bloodline.

“What? Do you discriminate certain blood types?”, you say in mock humor. A laugh disguised as a cough rings through the room, as the cute guy in the back of the room tries to hide his amusement. His eyes are locked on your features.

“We just want to make sure all our employees are healthy. You’ll be travelling to a foreign country, working long hours.”, the woman in front of you replies, ignoring your bad attempt at a joke. She continues: “You don’t have to – of course.”

“But then I won’t be asked back for a second interview, am I right?”

The woman looks you in the eyes for the first time since entering the room. She doesn’t look as evil as she sounds. “No”

So, you guess you’ll leave with a bit less body fluid than you anticipated.

There wasn’t a second interview. The test results came with a pre-signed contract.

***

“What the fuck is up with this boy today?”, Joo-Won swears as his eyes are glued to the screen in front of you. Your shift is officially over. Most of the merchandise is packed up, all the sold-out item IDs are sent to the head quarter and you already got a notification that the next delivery will be arriving first thing tomorrow morning. Now you’re sitting together with some crew members, a half-finished soju bottle in your hand and an empty carton of take-out on your lap. The guy at your job interview turned out to be quite fun.

Joo-Won introduced himself during the briefing on your first day in Japan. He is responsible for the ARMY Bomb stands, which seems to be a very big deal around here. This is his third tour with Bangtan and he seems to know nearly every henchmen in this operation. So it came to no surprise when a stage assistant invited you both to watch the concert from one of the twelve monitors backstage. Of course, you didn’t look too out of place with your name badge and the Love Yourself-hoodie you may or may not have purchased with your employee discount.

The stage assistant, whose name you can’t remember, is fuzzing with screen number five as you take another sip of your afterwork drink. You stare not really focusing on anything. Just blank nothingness.

“You did see this as well, right _______?”, Joo-Won asks breathlessly.

You can only nod. The Fake Love performance just ended. And even though all seven idols were on fire, the youngest was just out of control.

“What did we just see?”, the boy continues.

“Rudeness”, you answer and empty the bottle with a hefty swing. You knew Jungkook would lift his shirt. You were prepared as you had seen their comeback stage more times than you’d be comfortable to admit. This was not news to you. But the aggression in his stare, how dark he growled his verses, the hard edges on his mouth, not even hinting a friendly smile, was making you uncomfortable.

Before your new friend can respond his headset beeped. Joo-Won answer, his eyes still on the screen.

“Yeah?” After a beat his eyes flash to you. You squirm uncomfortably in your seat.

“_________ is with me”, he says and you need a second to register your role in the conversation.

Joo-Won’s stare lingers on your face – a silent question in his eyes.

“Sure, sir. I’ll bring her to you right away.” Then he ends the call sifting, so your knees are brushing against one another.

“Care to explain, why Bangtan’s prime management wants to speak with you, _______?”, your friend asks, no judgement in his voice. What?

***

“So, I have to sign another NDA?”, you ask the manager in front of you, trying to swallow your nervousness. This is the Sejin, Bangtan’s right hand advisor. Every fan knows him from countless Bangtan Bombs and can easily recognize the fathering care in his work.

“This one… is more specific”, he explains and moves the stack of papers to you. You try to calm your excited fingers as you grab at the legal document, flipping through it.

“And it’s time sensitive”, Sejin adds and searches your eyes for attention. You give it to him.

“Time sensitive?” The papers abandoned on the table. “Is something wrong with the boys?”

There will come a time and place when you reflect on the choice of calling these men “the boys” as if they were your closest friends. But it’s not today. Today you just see a glint in his eyes.

“Yes, it’s Jungkookie”, Sejin starts and your memories flash to their concert an hour prior. How Joo-Won and you both discussed how beastly the youngest looked – how aggressive.

“Wh-what?”, you answer in question. The manager’s hands move on top of yours.

“He is ill and … you might be able to help him. We can’t transport him. And we are not sure he’ll survive an ambulance ride.”

Your brain blanks as you stand up in a swift move. This is simple: One of your most cherished idols is ill and his trustworthy manager tells you that you’ll be able to help. This is a no brainer.

“Take me to him”, you order, not even caring that Sejin’s words are not making any sense. How can a twenty-four-year-old college dropout help the golden maknae? What even is his illness?

Sejin’s smile should have been another red flag. “Slow down, _________”, he sooths and moves around the table so he is standing in front of you. “This is important. You have to sign the documents. You’ll have to transfuse blood to him.” He is handling you a pen. “There are health risks. This isn’t … the most optimal environment for a blood donation.”

Jungkook needs your blood – memories of your job interview come back.

You sign the contract, not even reading all the small-printed clauses on the pages. Before the ink is even dry, Sejin is moving you through a long corridor. His hand rests on your neck – squeezing reassuringly. A glimmer travels across your body and you try to ground yourself. Of course you are nervous. This is reasonable. You’ll donate blood to one of your favorite idols. Maybe you’ll see him, when he gets better. Hell, maybe he’ll even thank you in person! Meeting Bangtan is the closest form to aspiration you have at the moment.

“When is the nurse coming?”, you question the logistics as you move towards the farthest door labeled “BTS”.

“Which nurse?” You look at Sejin in surprise – if not a nurse, who’ll take your blood?

“Then a doctor?”, you ask and Sejin shakes his head, a humorless chuckle escaping him while you both come to a halt in front of the door.

“There is… no time I’m afraid”, he answers – with remorse in his voice. There is a sinking feeling in your stomach, some of the fog lifted. How the hell should you give Jungkook your blood if there is not even a transfusion station here?

Sejin knocks at the door, ignoring your thumbing heartbeat and opens the door, softly pushing you into the room. “I’ll explain everything; I promise.”

***

The starving vampire smells your sweet blood as soon as the door opens – Sejin a mere decoration in his vision. Jungkook’s whole body turns towards you while your eyes nervously shift across the room. Time slows down as the maknae swiftly moves straight to you. His muscles ache and he cannot even recognize his swallow breathing. His stare is fixed on the nap of your neck – deliciously soft, milky. Not even the slightest imperfection in this human before him.

You do not even sense Namjoon’s and Seokjin’s presence as your eyes take in the predator advancing towards you. The older ones seem frozen as their youngest stops just a breath away from you. You look mouthwatering – clad in one of their merchandise hoodies, hair pinned in a mess at the top of your head, some bold eye make-up, but otherwise barefaced. You look… just right.

Before Jungkook’s grin spreads across his face, Jin takes action – trying to move between the sarved vampire and this … girl. What the hell was Sejin thinking just throwing her in here? Did he want this human dead so badly?

But the oldest is too late – Jungkook growls aggressively as he snatches you against his firm chest. All the air leaves your lungs – your breasts pressed painfully against solid muscle.

“Ahh”, you groan. As soon as the noise leaves your mouth, his lips descend against the white of your neck. The maknae hisses in pleasure; and then he is biting – hard.

Your scream misses the volume and you feel tears on your cheeks as you gaze into Seokjin’s overwhelmed eyes – hands outstretched.

Blood flows freely into Jungkook’s mouth and you hear a sickening slurping sound. The pain is blazing against your skin, every fiber of your body vehemently trying to get away from the maknae. But your fingers don’t push him away. No, the curl around his biceps – acting against every rational though inside your brain. You cling to the man sucking your blood as if he’s merely leaving a love bite.

The pain in your body slowly ebbs and you feel a bright bliss surrounding you. You’re not even sure if you are still standing at the door. There is no room – just lips against your neck and whimpers in your throat… and Namjoon’s voice far, far away.

“Jungkook stop now.”

“This is an order.”

“Jin, help me.”

“Let’s lay her down.”

“Is there a pulse?”

***

“How do you take your coffee?”, Yoongi asks while starring at you with such indifference in his eyes you’re not sure your answer even matters.

“Uhm- I” His sigh interrupts you as he makes his way from the couch across form you to the kitchenette. The whole room is dimmed in a soft light, the furniture a clean white. You feel your head spin as you try to recall what happened. Weren’t you backstage? Didn’t Jun-

“Jungkook”, your voice more of an accusation than a whisper. Yoongi’s back stiffens, but he continues to brew hot water over a ceramic filter and soon a soothing smell of coffee drifts towards you on the white leather.

“Jungkook sucked m-y – he su”

“-cked your blood. Damn girl, how hard did you hit your head when you fainted?”, your favorite rapper asks – his body finally turned towards you.

Slow, leisure steps are taken and then he sits in front of you, taking you all in. You must look like a mess; grease and sweat from your shift in the booth, plus the incident with the youngest vocalist in the band. All the blood. Your stomach turns around uncomfortably.

Yoongi is looking into your eyes and for a split second you see something other than complete boredom behind his stare, but as soon as you try to pinpoint the emotion, it vanishes.

“That’s what vampire do”, he continues and you heart reacts before the triggering word even registers in your brain. Vampire. No way.

“Go-ood one, Yoongi-ssi. This… this isn’t – some romance novel for teenagers”, you scoff, disbelieve in your voice while your heart beats hard against your chest. Without missing a beat, the idol is in your face – literally just millimeters away. The air is stuck in your lungs as you try to calm yourself.

“You know what I hate, dumb human?”

His fingers draw lines across your face – just a feathering touch, barely more than an illusion. You can only shake your head; afraid your voice will give out if you try to answer verbally.

His face moves down to your neck as his hands frame your face – no longer brushing but locking your head into place. Then his mouth dives into your neck, just resting against your pulse. You can feel the sinister smile against your skin as you shiver.

“Talking to dumb people”, his lips vibrate and you feel goosebumps traveling across your body.

“You have all the proof, but your silly little brain still doesn’t – connect the pieces”, Yoongi trails small kisses across your collarbone; a stark contrast to his insulting words.

“Do you really think our little maknae just has a blood kink?”

He moves to the other side of your neck, while titling your head forcefully to the left. You can’t move your body – muscles frozen into place. You’re just passively… enduring what your favorite idol does to you. Now his teeth are grazing your right earlobe, as his voice drops another octave into a threatening growl.

“That we just hire a college dropout because of her work ethics?”

His words hurt, but you’re more concerned with the information behind them. They know about you, must have read your file. Shame colors your cheeks and Yoongi’s nose inhales deeply against the red of your skin.

“You smell fucking delicious”, he moans and places an open mouth kiss against your rosé cheek. You can feel his saliva on your skin and a whimper of your own escapes your throat.

“You like that, dumb human? Knowing I’d love… nothing more than to bite in your flesh? Drain you dry?”, he slurs. You both know that this is nothing more than a rhetorical question – your heart, your breathing and the wetness between your tights enough evidence.

But before he can act on his words, a searing pain flashes through your brain.

“Argh”, you groan pressing your head against his cold hands with virgo. The dead skin of his fingertips sooths the throbbing in your brain temporarily. But he knows that your time is nearing its end.

“Human, listen to me”, he whispers, his previously threatening tone making place for urgent whisper.

“When you wake up” What? His hands still a vise to keep you grounded, while the pain in your head expands to your whole body. “Damn human, focus!”

He searches your eyes for recognition, but your stare moves around the room – now noticing how alien the light looks, how… clean the colors are. Is this? Are you still sleeping? How?

“When you wake up”, Yoongi’s voice nothing more than a vibrating hum in your ears, “Say no to Namjoon.”

Now he is shaking you. “Say no”

***

“Good morning, sleepyhead”, Namjoon says after you open your eyes – the morning sun blinding you momentarily.

“I made you coffee”, he adds as he pushes a steaming mug in your hands. The familiar smell takes you back to your dream, to Yoongi, his words, his plea – and you gape at the leader in front of you.

“I thought we could talk?”

_______________________

A/N: What do you guys think? I am so thankful for the feedback you guys sent me. It means a lot! I hope you like this chapter as much as i do! I’d love to hear from you again! love, dana

taglist: @m0chilattae @gali-005 @fangirls94 @dinopowa @toddsgirl27 @littlemanismoon @dkck99 @slutkoo @subtlepjiminie @coffeebeanismylife @iloverubberduckiez-blog @geminidrawsstuff @olivialovemason88

[chalkrevelations]

Well. Episode 34 of Word of Honor, and, oh.

(Spoilers. Scroll on by and come back later if you want to watch it unspoiled.)

Oh. No. NO, show. Only A-Xiang is supposed to make me cry, so fuck you, Zhou Zishu, with your SAD LITTLE FACE, oh my god, why don’t you just pull my heart out of my chest, throw it down in the dirt and stomp on it? It would be kinder than having to watch you deal with the implications of whatever it is, precisely, you’ve done to yourself that means you’re expecting to drop dead any day and lose your chance at lifetime happiness with your soulmate but are hiding from everyone. (Well, I guess it’s your turn to be hiding something, because it looks like everyone in the jianghu except you was in on at least some part of Wen Kexing’s plan.)

So, the first thing that struck me in this ep is the way ZZS sits at the table at the post-Hero’s Conference meal drinking session, hunched over, like his bones are made of shattered glass, and here’s the thing: He’s absolutely just had a serious emotional blow. But also, this is a guy who’s terminally ill and in chronic pain, and we saw that repeatedly for about the first two-thirds of the show, and then the emphasis on it kind of slacked off. And I’m thinking now that maybe it wasn’t just slack writing or WKX playing his xiao in the rain through the nights at Four Seasons Manor like the worst emo kid ever that helped, that maybe some of the progression of the deadening of ZZS’s senses might have offered him some relief, but whatever it was, I’m wondering if whatever he’s done now – I presume pulled out those gd Nails - has exacerbated everything all over again. I cannot believe that at least Wu Xi can’t look at the way he’s moving and holding himself at the table and see that he’s not just stone-cold angry and emotionally hurt about being left out of the loop, he’s in physical pain. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s a little like being stabbed in the chest when he gets confirmation that Chengling and WKX were in on WKX’s “death” together while he was in the dark and believed this asshole actually died on him. But I also think we’re getting physical pain ramped up again from him; there’s a hesitation and delicacy of movement that speaks of someone who’s judging their movements and maintaining a high level of control, because if they do make a wrong move, everything could just explode into agony. I also noticed the way he clutches his cup when A-Xiang starts explaining how WKX made a deal with Xie Wang in order to rescue ZZS from Tian Chuang, and I can’t for the life of me figure out if it’s having to hear about WKX finding himself in that position in order to save him, or if it’s A-Xiang calling him “Sick Dude” at a moment when that’s going to press right on one of the tenderest, most vulnerable places. Because, god, everyone else at this table who even knows about his terminal illness still thinks that Wu Xi is going to be able to fix him. And here’s where ZZS apparently is a better person than me, because I don’t know that I wouldn’t have an absolute breakdown and end up throwing it in WKX’s face that if he had just told me what was going on, maybe I wouldn’t be about to drop dead tomorrow and leave him alone for the rest of his life, asshole. But no! His zhiji’s happiness is so important to ZZS, that he’s not going to say a word about it! It’s more important than his own life, that his shidi has been able to avenge his parents while keeping his own hands (relatively) clean of any more sins. He’s going to continue to be there, to be whatever WKX needs him to be, for however few days he has left. I won’t fail you. (Even when you fail me). Here’s the thing though – at some point, you’re going to drop dead, Zhou Zishu. And apparently you’re going to leave WKX completely unprepared for it, so I don’t know that you’re doing him any favors being the one who’s hiding something, this time around. And oh my god, I just realized something – you made him drink three pots of liquor as a punishment – was that to get him so blind drunk he wouldn’t notice the Nails were gone? You realize you have to tell him at some point, right?

ANYWAY, WKX gets sloppy drunk and stumbles into their(? has everyone just given up any pretense at this point?) bedroom, and first of all, can I take a minute to flail over the way ZZS pushes drunk WKX’s hair back off of his shoulder? Can I? Because I rewound and re-watched that 2 seconds of the show three times. But then, then, WKX starts drunken rambling about how happy he is, and how scared he’d been that he wasn’t worthy of ZZS, and tears start welling up in ZZS’s stupid eyes, and WKX starts talking about how finding ZZS made him a whole new person, and ZZS’s stupid precious face gets SO SAD, and I start fucking welling up too, and then WKX talks about his parents and their shifu, and ZZS presses WKX’s head to his chest and gives us his stupid sad little smile, and I’m literally clutching my shirt hem in inarticulate pain and distress by this point, and then ZZS starts to break down as he holds WKX’s hand as WKX finally falls asleep, and he gives that stupid shaky sobbing little gasp, and just UGH. I’m DYING here, show. Also, how did you manage to do this to me with just your face, Zhang Zhehan? I’m not sure I can take the next couple of episodes, when the whole Nails dilemma is sure to come out.

Second big takeaway of this ep is that I just … oh my god. I cannot with you, Xie’er, holy shit. And I say this in a completely loving yet utterly aghast way. Was it absolutely necessary to literally sit on Awful Yifu’s lap? I’m reduced to a state of horrified laughter over the envelope pushing. The absolute fuckery of the power dynamic fluctuations of the Zhao Jing/Xie Wang relationship at this point … it’s something. It’s finally reached a point where it’s so fucky and complex that I may have to go looking for some fic, despite my general desire to punt Awful Yifu into the sun. I do have to say that the whole (one-sided) conversation when Xie’er finally let everything out was super-cathartic. Go off with your unfilial self, Xie’er. Li Daikun has been amazing all through this, and he’s continuing to maintain a perfect balance as we move toward the finish line. I’ve heard he was offered Wen Kexing and supposedly didn’t want to take the role because he didn’t think he was ready for it? And while I absolutely appreciate Gong Jun and the chemistry between ZZS and WKX that he built with Zhang Zhehan, I’m flabbergasted that Li Daikun was able to pull off Xie’er like this, yet thought he couldn’t manage WKX ... and I have to admit, I kind of would like to see what WKX would have been in his hands. I’ve also heard a rumor that they’re talking about maybe filming an origin story for Xie Wang? I … am torn, because on the one hand, more Xie’er, but on the other, more Awful Yifu. Anyway, I think we’re continuing to see a whole tangle of resonances between Xie’er, Wen Kexing, and Zhou Zishu, and the awful men in their lives who helped make them who they are today; there’s something of a contrast between Zhou Zishu, who, maybe significantly, was older and had some grounding from his Four Seasons shifu when he got tangled up with Prince Jin and Tian Chuang and who was willing to gnaw off his own leg to get out of the trap (and only finally struck back because he was forcibly taken back) and the other two, one of whom killed and … dismembered? flayed? his abuser before taking his literal throne, and the other of whom turned his abuser into a muted … piece of furniture? sex toy? before taking his figurative throne. Xie’er is about five steps behind Wen Kexing on a parallel path, and maybe there’s still time for him to untangle some of the fuckery in his head about his awful yifu. But meanwhile, there it is: You failed me. Xie’er, you’re breaking my heart, but I feel like I have to point out, again, this is the guy who is literally responsible for the existence of the Department of the Unfaithful. I did have a brief moment when I was convinced Xie’er was poisoning himself and Awful Yifu in a murder-suicide move, but then we got lap-sitting instead? Which could have made me think we were getting some kind of reversion to wanting to feel safe, like a kid able to (finally) sit in his father’s lap and play at comfort, but then he went and made it – let’s be honest – a little weird.

Last really big takeaway for me from this ep is that A-Xiang and I continue to be simpatico, because lady, I also have a very very bad feeling about Fan Shishu’s absence in this wedding “party” from the Gentle Wind Sword Sect, and watching your dawning realization at the end of the episode when he doesn’t show up and doesn’t show up and doesn’t show up as the group enters only confirmed my suspicions that something is UP. Am I supposed to expect a fakeout to Mo Huaiyang’s haranguing speech to Cao Weining, with a wrap-up of “But since you clearly love her so much and want to be a good influence …” Because I won’t believe it. And I’m not going to be happy or comfortable until we see the back of this asshole, because speaking of somebody who says everything with his face, Mo Huaiyang was NOT happy when Ye Baiyi called off the rest of the Heroes Conference, after his horse in the race had already been completely repudiated and he lost whatever chance he had at gaining power and influence on Zhao Jing’s back. Even if he did come all this way – bearing gifts – just to tell Cao Weining he’s an ungrateful brat and to never darken the door of Gentle Wind Sword Sect, it would still be a jerkass thing to do. But I don’t trust him as far as I could spit, and my only question at this point is whether all of Cao Weining’s shidi who came with him to the wedding are in on whatever bs Mo Huaiyang’s planning to pull.

A couple other random things:

Oh, so A-Xiang’s two moms are going to stay together for the rest of their lives, are they? And Liu Qianqiao is even like, “Loser Boyfriend? I don’t know him.” Followed by a cut to Luo Fumeng and her vaguely smug reaction. I’m dying.

No one’s going to say anything about this random body that Wen Kexing used for his plan? Just, you know, went to the store or something and picked out a random body? I realize it’s very late in the game to be getting moralistic about the adorable merciless killers, but come on, man. I also think we have once again overused the infodump. I realize we only have 35 episodes, but some of this explanation of WKX’s very complex plan should have been shown, not told. Anyway, cue series of flashbacks to finally explain how the whole Rube Goldberg plan was put in place, and ah-hah! WKX, himself, talked to Chengling ahead of time. I notice that in that flashback scene and the one when he talks to Ye Baiyi, he’s prominently still wearing That Hairpin, so we’ll realize this all got set into motion before ZZS was rescued and brought home.

Finally, why has everyone seem to have forgotten (still) about that KEY that WKX was waving around? No one’s going to mention it? Really?

And now, I think I’m going to fortify myself with some bourbon for the next ep.

[oikawaplssteponme]

𝑨𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒀𝒐𝒖: part 5

“It’s always been you. Has it always been me?”

✨part 1

✨part 2

✨part 3

✨part 4

pairing: Tobio Kageyama x fem!reader

rating/warnings: [a few swear words but that should be it]

synopsis: You liked him. He liked you. Easy right? Well, maybe not as easy as you thought.

a/n: hiii 💓 sorry i didn’t post this part sooner, ive been busy with other such things :) this is chapters 9&10 and things will be getting interesting the next few parts after this 🤭 just a reminder that my requests/asks are open all the time and so is this taglist. just ask and ill add you :)) okay enjoy xx

•

Nine: all that matters

You felt as though someone had taken your heart, stepped on, and gave it back to you. You couldn’t think of any plausible reason why Koi would say that to you. This wasn’t the same Koi that always supported you. You knew that if you were in her place, you wouldn’t have said those things, even if you truly believed them.

“Don’t give me that face Y/N, it's just my opinion. See this is why I didn’t want to tell you. I knew you’d freak out,” Koi huffed.

“Well I’m obviously not gonna like hearing that you think that the guy I like doesn’t actually like me.”

“Hey now I never said that. All I said was that I think that I’m more his type than you. That's no reason to get pissy with me Y/N. The truth can hurt.” Koi crossed her arms and looked you dead in the eyes. You couldn’t tell whether you wanted to cry or scream.

“Hey ladies, get into first formation,” your coach interrupted. You took a deep breath and got into your spot.

Your practice felt like it lasted forever. You wanted nothing more than to just get as far away from Koi as possible. She acted as if nothing was wrong, continuing to joke with you all practice. You played along.

“See you tomorrow Y/N!” called Koi as she turned to walk home. You waved goodbye and began your trip home.

“Hey wait up!” you heard a voice say behind you. You turned to see a sweaty Kageyama running towards you. Your face instantly lit up. Once he got up to you, he gave you a tight hug.

“Oh my gosh you stink,” you joked. Kageyama released you from the hug.

“Oh sorry,” he blushed.

“It's okay,” you smiled at him, taking his hand as you walked home.

“How was practice?” you asked.

“It was good. We have a practice match tomorrow, you should come watch,” he said. You turned to him with the biggest smile.

“You want me to come watch you?”

“Yeah why wouldn’t I?” Kageyama squeezed your hand. You felt butterflies enter your stomach.

~

“Do you want to come inside to study?” you asked, pointing to your house.

“Yeah sure,” smiled Kageyama.

You walked up to your front door and went inside. Once again, your family wasn’t home yet. You led Kageyama up to your room and you set down your bags. He sat down on your bed and you made your way to your closet.

You were still in your sweaty practice clothes so you decided to change. You grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a clean t-shirt. Not thinking twice about Kageyama, you simply got changed. After you were dressed, you turned around to see a red faced Kageyama.

“What?” you asked. He caught his breath.

“Uh, nothing,” he said as he snapped back into reality. You chuckled and grabbed your school bag and went to sit next to him. He grabbed his bag as well. You pulled out your homework and began to complete it. Kageyama grumbled as he struggled through his english homework.

“Do you want help?” you asked. Kageyama looked at you and shook his head. He knew you had one of the best grades in class but he wanted to try to do it himself.

“Nope, I’m good,” he replied. You nodded and went back to your work.

~

You finished your homework in less than an hour. You repacked your school bag and set it on the floor. You moved to rest your head on Kageyama’s shoulder.

“Are you finished yet?” you pouted. He smiled.

“I can finish it later,” he said, putting away his things.

He wrapped his arm around you as you two laid back on your bed. Your head rested on his chest. You couldn’t help but feel so at peace whenever you were with him. Well, that peace was short lived when Koi’s words began to run through your mind again. You felt your gut clench.

“Kags?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you have a type?” Kageyama gave you a funny look.

“What do you mean?” he asked. You sighed and sat up to face him.

“I guess what I’m asking is, am I your type?” You worried that Koi might be right. Kageyama tilted his head.

“Why does it matter? I like you,” He said taking your hand. He could tell something was wrong. You still felt uneasy.

“I don’t know. Someone said some stuff to me and it got me thinking. Well, overthinking actually,” you frowned. Kageyama pulled you towards him.

“I promise that whatever they told you isn’t true. You’re all that matters,” he said. Kageyama placed his hand on your cheek, moving his thumb back and forth. You smiled pulling him into a tight hug.

“I promise Y/N,” he whispered in your ear. His soft words sent a chill down your spine. You released him from the hug but pulled him into a kiss. He kissed you back sweetly, holding you close. Your arms wrapped around his neck while he held onto your hips.

“Hey Kags,” you stopped kissing him for a moment.

“Yeah?”

“Please make sure your phone is on silent.”

~

“I should go,” yawned Kageyama. You pouted as you checked the time. 10:23pm. No part of you wanted him to leave.

“I think you shouldn’t,” you smiled, gripping onto his arm. He laughed.

“Trust me I don’t want to but I was supposed to be home 20 minutes ago,” he replied. You sighed, letting go of his arm and sitting up.

“Is your practice match right after school?” you asked.

“Yeah. It's in the normal gym,” he said. You nodded. Kageyama grabbed his school bag and his other things. You two walked downstairs before reaching your front door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” he smiled.

You knew you would but there was just something about seeing Kageyama leave that broke your heart. You didn’t think saying a simple goodbye would be so hard but it was. You became so attached to him and you weren’t even dating; technically at least.

“Okay,” you whispered. Your eyes felt glossy but you didn't know why. It just felt like each goodbye wouldn’t be followed with another hello.

“Hey I’m just a couple houses away, and I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow morning. Don’t be sad Y/N,” Kageyama set down his bag to pull you into a hug. You gripped onto his shirt.

“Okay,” you said faintly. You physically couldn’t say anymore because if you did you would just tell him to stay. Kageyama moved his hands to hold your face. He noticed the water forming in your eyes. You just smiled, shrugging your shoulders like it was no big deal. He kissed the top of your head before releasing his hands from your warm face. He picked up his things and opened the door.

“Goodnight Y/N.” He gave you one last kiss on the head.

“Goodnight Kags.”

•

Ten: girlfriend

You didn’t sleep that night. You couldn’t. You felt incomplete. You felt silly about how strong your feelings had gotten for Kageyama. How attached you had become to the short-tempered setter. Everytime you were with him, it just felt as if the world had stopped and it was only the two of you. You always worried about people leaving you. You knew that if Kageyama did, you would never recover. After what Koi had to say about him, you were doubtful over yourself. Thoughts like those are what kept you up at night.

When morning arose, you were more than excited to get your day started. You immediately got yourself cleaned up and changed in your uniform. Your coach had cancelled your practice today due to being sick so it was perfect that you could make it to Kageyama’s practice match. You even packed a bag of clothes to change into after school for the game. You grabbed your bags and went downstairs. You put on your coat and hat after grabbing something to eat. You put on your school bag and went outside.

He wasn’t there. You waited for about 5 minutes for Kageyama but he wasn’t there. You felt your heart sink. Was there a chance that he forgot? He wouldn’t forget, he promised. You knew that if you waited any longer you would be late, so you decided to start walking. You walked by yourself for some time, looking back every so often to hopefully see Kageyama. You had been walking for almost 5 minutes before hearing fast footsteps behind you.

“Y/N!” You turned to see a sprinting Kageyama. You let out a sigh of relief.

“I thought you forgot about me,” you said once he finally caught up to you. He tried to catch his breath.

“No, no I would never. I left my volleyball bag at my house so I had to go back and get it. Then I noticed that the lights in your house were all turned off so I assumed you had already left,” Kageyama explained, “I’m sorry if I scared you.” You turned to him and kissed his cheek.

“No worries Kags.” He took your hand and you walked the rest of the way to school.

~

The school day was long. You were so eager to watch Kageyama’s game that time seemed to never pass. You would check the clock constantly but of course nothing would change.

Finally when the bell rang signaling the end of the day, you sprung up from your seat rushing to your locker to grab your change of clothes.

“Y/N!” a familiar voice called. Your heart sang seeing it was none other than Kageyama.

“ Hi Kags,” you smiled.

“Put this on.” He handed you a black hoodie. Your eyes grew. You took the hoodie with joy. Before you could say anything, he was running to the gym.

“I’ll see you at the game!” his voice trailed off as he continued to run off. Your face was hot and tense from how hard you were smiling. You grabbed your bag and headed to the locker room.

You happily changed into a pair of leggings, a strappy tank top, and Kageyama’s hoodie. The hoodie was soft and it smelled like a mix of pine and vanilla, just how Kageyama often did. You were just about to leave the locker room when someone walked in.

“Oh hi Y/N, what are you doing?” asked Koi.

“I’m gonna go watch the boys volleyball practice game,” you said, without even thinking twice about it.

“Oh that sounds fun! Mind if I join?” Koi asked. You tensed up. You couldn’t say no without sounding mean but you also were still mad at Koi for those things she said the other day.

“Are you sure? It's just a practice match, it's probably gonna be really boring,” you said, trying to come up with anything that could convince her not to come.

“Yeah, we can cheer on Kags together,” smiled Koi. Your heart stopped. Did she just call him…

“Uh sure, then let's go,” you said.

~

The pit in your stomach only grew as you walked closer to the gym with Koi. Once you got inside, Kageyama spotted you right away. He ran towards you and wrapped his arm around you, not even acknowledging Koi.

“You look cute. Where is that hoodie from?” joked Kageyama. You smiled, giving him a nudge.

“Very funny. Uh Kags, you know Koi?” you gestured towards your friend who seemed to be annoyed by the lack of attention she was getting.

“Uh yeah I think so,” he said, looking at Koi. Koi gave him a big smile.

“Hi Kags. Good luck today,” smiled Koi. Did she just say it again?

“Oh uh thank you,” Kageyama turned to look at you, “I’ll see you after the game okay?”

“Oh, yeah. Good luck,” you replied. He gave you a hug before running back to his team.

You and Koi sat on the floor of the upper level of the gym. You dangled your feet over the edge and rested your arms on the railing that kept you from falling.

“So you and Kags huh?” said Koi suddenly. You turned to face her.

“Uh yeah, what about us?”

“Oh nothing,” she said, “just thinking out loud.”

“Right,” you sighed. You didn’t have the energy to ask her about it more. Whatever she had to say you knew it wouldn’t be good.

The practice game was against Nekoma High School. You had heard of them before due to their reputation around Karasuno. They seemed to be a very well rounded team.

The first set was tight but Nekoma took it. Kageyama seemed flustered with himself. He was off today and couldn’t understand why.

“Shake it off, get this next set,” you cheered. Kageyama didn’t look at you as he normally did when you cheered. You couldn’t blame him though, you knew how seriously he took volleyball, practice game or not.

“What’s with Tobio?” Koi asked. You shook your head.

“I’m not sure,” you replied.

“Maybe something is making him nervous,” she said. You turned to look at her, seeing the sly smile appear on her face as she looked down at Kageyama. You looked at Koi, then at Kageyama, and back at Koi. I know damn well she doesn’t actually think she is making Kageyama nervous. He never gets nervous.

“Maybe,” you sighed.

~

“Get this point Kageyama!” yelled Daichi. It was the second set and Nekoma was at set point. Kageyama was up to serve. You watched intently as he spun the ball in his hands.

“Let’s go Kags!” shouted Koi. You rolled your eyes without even thinking. Kageyama jumped and looked up to the two of you. He didn’t really make a face, he just looked at Koi, then at you, and back down to the ball.

The whistle blew and Kageyama tossed the ball up for his jump serve. The toss was off, causing him to hit the ball straight rather than with a downward spin.

“Oh god…” you mumbled to yourself as you watched the ball travel much farther than suitable.

“Out!” yelled the Nekoma libero. He let the ball drop. From where you were seated, you couldn’t really see whether or not the ball was in. The whistle blew and you looked to the ref, seeing him give the point to Nekoma.

“Well that was a shit game,” said Koi as she got up from the floor.

“They tried their best.”

~

The two of you went downstairs and waited outside the gym as the boys had their meeting. You sat on the ground and Koi sat on the bench. You watched as the boys slowly started to trail out of the gym one by one. Kageyama was the last one out. His head hung low but he made his way over to you.

“Hey,” he said softly. You got up to face him.

“Hey you played well, okay?” You gently moved some of his hair from his face to see his sweet eyes.

“You’ll get them next time Kags,” chimed in Koi. Kageyama brought his head up.

“It’s Kageyama, please.” He said plainly. Koi’s eyes widened and so did yours.

“Oh yeah sorry.” She said. You looked at Kageyama.

“Did you want to head over to my house? We can grab some boba on the way,” You asked. He nodded, taking your hand.

“Great let’s go, I’m starving.” said Koi, moving to stand next to Kageyama.

“Oh uh Koi I think-“ you began.

“Koi, I was hoping to spend some time with my girlfriend...alone. If that’s okay with you,” interrupted Kageyama. Your heart stopped. Girlfriend? Koi huffed.

“Yup totally fine. I’ll see you two later.” Koi rolled her eyes and left without saying another word. You looked at Kageyama with wide eyes.

“Girlfriend?” His face turned a bright red.

“Oh uh yeah I’ve been meaning to ask you. Sorry, I just said it without thinking.” He rubbed the back of his head nervously. You smiled.

“I was starting to think you were never gonna ask,” you said with a smile. Kageyama smiled back at you and you started to head to your house.

~

[taglist OPEN: @vangoghpoets @vangoghmusings @lilnuances @jennasquishy8 @ladybird-00 @moonlightsof @maii-thirsts @tamaguchi (the tags were acting funny so I hope I got the right usernames, if not and you wouldn’t like to be part of the taglist lmk!)]

[storysofmyown]

Obey me! Scarred, Chapt. 3

Plot: It’s time for the next step in Diavolo’s plan to unify the realms. But, in order to work, the demons would be subjected to confront their worst fears, and in some cases, who they are.

Trigger warning:  Manipulation

Word count: 2399

Note: This is the third part of my previous post, you can find their link to that part at the end of this post.

It had been a couple of days since the demons last encounter with God. None of them had run into Him, thankfully. But Lucifer always brought up what He had to do that day, that way they could avoid finding Him. Or at least that is what they hoped. Most of the time the demons spent it inside the house. It wasn’t a problem for Belphegor or Levi, they were used to spending all day inside their rooms napping or watching an anime anyway.

 That was another thing. Ever since they found out God would be around, the demons started to have nightly watch sessions. They would all gather around in a room, Mc’s usually, and just stay there until the morning hours. When they did manage to fall asleep, it was in the room they were all in. Mc didn’t mind the company, but they did mind what that meant. The demons were so scared of God that they couldn’t even sleep in their rooms. And really, who could blame them? The only one who’s schedule changed the least was Mc, though, now they were forced to go with the demons when they left the house whenever possible. But, so far they were managing it well, just a week and a couple more days and they would not have to see His face ever again.

 There was a knock on the door. Mc locked eyes with Beel, that at the time was with them in the kitchen.

 “I didn’t know Luke was going to come today to give you samples.” Beelzebulb stayed silent. “…I’ll take that as that not being Luke.” Beel left on the table his custard, and made his way to the front door, where he stood, silently staring at the door. None of the brothers were at the house at the moment, they were with Lucifer and Diavolo planning the ball that would take place at the end of the of the angels visit. Because even if they wanted to go out as little as possible, they still had responsibilities.

 “Do you think it’s Him?” Beels voice was low. Barely even audible to Mc, who was standing right next to Beel. There was another knock on the door. This time lauder, more insistent, longer. Or at least that’s how Beel felt it. He stood right in front of the door wondering who might be at the other side of that it. He felt small, the door looming over him with an amount of possibility that overwhelmed the demon and made his stomach turn.

 “Ill be right here.” Mc took Beels hands into theirs, giving it a small squeeze. Beel nodded slowly, before opening the door.

At the entrance of The House of Lamentation, there stood a man. No, not a man, a being. He was taller than Beelzelbub, possibly 8 feet tall or more. He had an entirely white suit, and if Mc didn’t know better, they would have sworn that man was the incarnate of evil. Big fangs and a devilish smile that screamed trouble. He looked old, far older than any other creature Mc had encountered yet. Given how slow demons and angels aged, the man standing in front of them must be who knows how many years old. His movements were weird, almost as if he wasn’t used to walk or something, well, this was God after all. Did He even need a mortal body in the Celestial Realm? Beelzebulb tensed, squeezing Mc´s hand with force.

 “Ah, Beelzebulb, so good to see you. Are your brothers and nephew here?” God smiled, and for some reason Mc found themselves fearing as well. He just gave off a dangerous, menacing vibe, they felt that at any moment the man standing there could wipe them out of existence. And for all they knew, He probably could.

 “No.” Was all Beel could say, hesitant, but still an answer.

 “Ah, what a shame. I was hoping we could get a chat. Well, let’s not go to waste my visit. Why don’t you show me around?” Beel was unsure what to say. Perhaps if he showed his father the house he would leave and not bother them anymore. Though, that was unlikely, he looked at the clock that was hanging from the wall, Lucifer and the others wouldn’t be home till a few more hours. He got distracted from his thoughts when God gasped. “My, how unwelcoming and rude of you to not have presented me.” God mustered, this time, His eyes focused on Mc. “I was aware there was another member of the student council at this house. I just wasn’t aware they were human.”

 God extended a hand at Mc, who reluctantly took it. Every instinct in Beels body told him to shield the human. But he was frozen in place.

 “Mhm, how peculiar. It has been so long since I last talked with a human. Or saw one for that matter.” God laughed. “You must be quite shocked my dear. I would know how much time you have spent in this wretched place. I have to say, I am surprised you have…taken it so well.” God mustered at Mc’s and Beels locked hands, this time Beels instinct took over, he immediately hid Mc behind him.

 “Leave them alone.” Snarled Beel, not realizing his demon form was about to take over. God straighten up, still with a smile plastered on His lips. “What do you want?”

 “Straight to business, I see. I am also hurt at the fact that you believe I would hurt any of my creations. They are all loved on my eyes.” ‘Was Lilith loved?’, was all Beel could think. “Very well then. I just want to have a look around. But if I am currently not welcome here that is fine. I will swing by tomorrow. Perhaps then the others will be here. I might even stay for dinner.”

 Beel thought about it. He knew his father would held up to his word and if the rest of his family was there when God pays a visit it would not end well. So, he stepped aside, giving his father enough space for Him to enter. “Make it quick.” God smiled at him, before entering the house. Beel waited until his father was out of ear shot and looked at Mc.

 “I…think it would be better if you left the house, until he leaves, that is. I don’t know what he wants but I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” Beel still held onto Mc’s hand. They were facing each other.

 “I’m not going to leave you alone with Him.” Mc hugged Beel thightly, and although Beel appreciated how they wanted to be there with him, the mere idea of what happen to Lilith happening to Mc tore his heart apart.

 “At least, stay in your room. I don’t you near him.” Mc nodded; this whole situation was stressful, so they figured making Beel worry for their safety would be too much.

 “Should I call Lucifer?”

 “No, maybe if I show him around, he will leave won’t do anything.” Beel pulled away from the hug. “I’ll tell Lucifer later, once he gets home.” And with that, Beel ran to where his father was.

 His father had ignored the room downstairs and made his way to the second floor. Where their rooms were. His father turned around and pointed at one of the rooms, it was the closest to the stairs, that was Lucifer’s room.

 “I’m guessing this is Lucifer’s room. Would you mind opening the door so I can have a look inside?”

 “Lucifer usually locks his door. I doubt he left it open.” Beel explained quickly, but before he realized, his father had open the door. Weird, he could swear Lucifer locked the door that morning.

 God had entered Lucifer’s room, and was standing in front of the bookshelves, starring at them.

 “You can’t be in here.”

 “Oh, please lighten up Beel, He won’t know I was in here. Besides, I just want to have a look. How about we visit Mammon’s room?” Before Beel could protest the man was in front of Mammon’s door, it was almost as if he knew where it was. Once the door had been opened, his father didn’t even enter the room. He just started laughing, like a maniac, he doubled over, resting his arm on the door while still wheezing. “Of course, what did I expect from him? Especially now.”

 Beel felt his stomach turn, again, he wanted to punch his father out of the house. But before he could even mutter something his father was already in another door. He shut off most of God’s comments, though, some still made it into his head.

 “Ah, his room is full of hyper fixations…of course it is. Why did I made him that way, I wonder?” God commented about Levi and his room. “My, someone is trying to overcompensate for their upbringing.” That was at Satan’s room. “HAHAHA, my, your brother is really a narcissistic. Too bad he keeps lying to himself.” That was at Asmodeous room, and Beel was starting to lose it. He was trying to stay calm, that he didn’t even realize when his father opened the door to his and Belphies room.

 “Oh, you and he are still as close as ever.” This time, his father did enter the room and walked over to Beels side. “I thought you and him might be less close now.”

 “Why would you think that?” Beel asked halfheartedly he didn’t want to hear whatever his father had to say.

 “You know exactly why.” God turned around, staring at Beel in the eyes, making him shake. “You know, you three were my favorites. The triplets, all done the same day by my hand. Always with one another, you guys shared everything…yet Belphegor and Lilith did not share humanity with you. They would leave you, go with the humans. That hurt you, I know it did. I saw you alone, I saw how you tried to talk with them when they came back. Yet, that was something they shared, and you were not part of it. Is that why you chose to save Belphegor instead of Lilith? You were jealous he and Lilith had something to share without you. My, how very demonic of you, son.”

 How could Beel describe in that moment how he felt? Having being faced by his father after so many years. He felt…helpless, scared, shocked, angry. He felt like his whole world could collapse right there if he blinked. He loved his family with every fiber of his being. The thought that he would let Lilith die because he was jealous was repulsive. It was like having someone repeatedly stab him in the chest while reminding him that the reason Lilith was gone was because he wasn’t strong or fast enough. The memory of the fear in her eyes and the way Belphie screamed in pain when they hit the Devildom. He wasn’t screaming because he was hurt, he was screaming because Lilith had died, and there was nothing any of them could do about it.

 There Beel stood. Being faced by the very person that threw the, away from The Celestial realm, the same person that brought him to live but also took his sister’s live. His father stood right in front of him, his hand placed on Beels shoulders, while the younger demon felt so, so little.

 “No! I would never- I loved Lilith and Belphie. I was never jealous of them. Why would I want that to happen?” Beel knew his father was doing this just to make him upset. But the mere thought of Lilith was enough to bring him to tears, now that he was being accused of letting his sister die…it destroyed him. “I wanted to save her..”

 “Yet you didn’t, son.” God cupped Beelzebubs face, cleaning the tears. “Why didn’t you save your sister? After all, you 6 fought me, for her sake. Yet, you couldn’t save her. Mhm, how ironic.” God kissed Beelzebubs forehead, before walking to the door. “Well, ill be taking my leave. No need to how me where the exit is.” God paused, looking back at Beel, who was standing still, barely breathing. Consumed by grief. “Oh please, there is no need to act that way. Your little secret is safe with me. Besides, I’m sure no one in your family blames you for Liliths dead. Why would they?”

 God smiled at Beel, but it wasn’t a nice smile. Why would it be? It was the smile of a man who had planted his seed of hate and would just need to wait and see the storm that it will bring. On His way down, God spotted the human that was living with the ex-angels.

 “Mc? Was it, dear?” Mc nodded, wondering where Beelzebulb was. “You are the first human I have seen in many years. I would like to have a chat with you, would you agree?” Before Mc could answer, God clasped his hands. “Wonderful, I will be contacting you. I cannot wait until I can talk with someone of your…level. Bless you my dear.” And with that he was gone. Mc ran up the stairs to find Beel in his room, sitting in his bed, lost in thought but crying like they had never seen him do.

 Mc sat down beside him and hold his hand, trying to think of what to say to help him. Maybe they should have called Lucifer. They could worry about that later, right now Beel needed them. Mc was about to say something, but they were cut off by the sound of Beels sobs, the man let himself fall onto Mc’s shoulder, and so they stayed like that. There wasn’t much Mc could say to him, they didn’t knew why Beel was crying. But whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

 A few hours later, Lucifer and the others had arrived. Beel acted like nothing had happen, but if you knew him, it was obvious he wasn’t feeling well. Mc wasn’t sure why, but Beel never mentioned the visit of God to Lucifer or anyone, and although Mc wasn’t sure why, they respected his decision. Perhaps it will be wisest to let it go for now and talk tomorrow when he was feeling better.

Hello loves! Welp, now we getting started with the good stuff.  I was super sleepy while editing this chapter so i apologize for any mistakes. But yeah, i hope y’all enjoyed it and i hope i wrote Beels character well and in a believable way. Next chapter will be up on Wednesday.

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven

Chapter eight

Chapter nine

Chapter ten

Chapter eleven

Chapter twelve

Chapter thirteen

[unsettledink]

Gotcha Chapter 6!

(Trying something new and posting the full text here as well as AO3? It feels too long, but I’ve posted longer things here before, Idk.)

Read on AO3

Peter: sorry im on my way!

Peter: iswear im just running late

Peter: i will be there supr fast!!

Peter: sorry!

Quentin stares down at his phone and somehow, manages not to sigh. It’s a full ten minutes past when they were supposed to meet, and he doesn’t even want to be here in the first place.

Quentin: Don’t worry, it’s fine.

Peter: im sosorry

Peter: my alarm got set for tomorroow instead of today

Peter: i dont even know how

Peter: adn i just woke up and i dont even sleep this late like ever

Peter: but i willl bet there soon i promise

Peter: sorry!

Quentin: Really, it’s fine! There’s no hurry.

Quentin: We’re not exactly on a schedule or anything.

Peter: its so rude tho

Peter: for once it wast me losingt rack of time!!

Peter: im still sorry!

Quentin had given himself a little extra time this morning, just to remind himself of all the many, many reasons he is doing this, in this particular way. Had spent that time summoning up every bit of patience he could find to get through this day, because he had a feeling he was going to need it.

It feels like he’s already used half of it.

And of course he won’t be able to comment on Peter’s lateness, not even as a joke.

Peter: im like hafway there already illl just have to chagne and then ill be there!

Peter: seriously i am so sorry

Normally he’d be all for hearing Peter apologize, but it keeps happening every other word, Quentin will lose his mind.

He’s already losing his mind.

Well, he’s not going to just stand here until Peter does show up. He glances around for somewhere to sit; there’s a coffee shop just across the street. Perfect. He’s going to need that.

Quentin: Hey, don’t rush!

Quentin: I’ll just grab a coffee okay?

Quentin: I’ll be over at Kaldi’s, it’s just across the street. Can’t miss it.

Quentin: You want anything?

Peter: you dont haveto!

There’s no stopping the sigh this time. God.

Quentin: Not what I asked, kiddo.

Peter: um

Peter: suure?

Peter: someting with carmel i dont care mych

Peter: ill be there realy soon tho!!

Quentin: Then we can just sit for a bit.

Quentin: You’ll probably need it if you just woke up.

It’s a little funny how… drastically downgraded Peter’s texting is when he’s apparently still half asleep. Or maybe it’s just that he’s in a hurry. Or—

Quentin nearly stops in the middle of the sidewalk. He— surely, Peter isn’t—

Quentin: Are you texting AND webswinging?

Peter: …maybe?

No wonder he goes through phones so fast.

Quentin: You’re going to drop your phone

Peter: hey! imst icky! i wont drop it!

Quentin: Then you’re going to fall from being distracted

Quentin: And I won’t feel sorry for you.

Peter: :(

Quentin: I’ll laugh

Peter: :( :( :(

Quentin: You brought this on yourself.

He spends the time until Peter gets there reviewing Lynn’s newest plans for the miniaturized drones; they actually aren’t too bad.

Of course, they’ve probably had them sitting, waiting, for months, what with how they’ve harped on and on about how this should be a priority.

It won’t do to let them get too full of themselves, so along with the praise he sends back plenty of potential revisions. Even brings up some entirely new bits for them to consider; should keep them busy for a bit.

“Hi!” Peter says, flinging himself down across from Quentin. He’s flushed and still out of breath, his hair sticking up. “I’m here! I’m so sorry!”

Quentin allows himself a slightly amused smile. “Hi,” he says. Pushes Peter’s drink—some sort of ridiculously sweet caramel flavored thing that’s barely coffee at all—across the table to him. “Sit. Drink. Relax a bit, okay?”

“Yeah,” Peter says, running a hand through his hair and only making things worse. “Yeah, okay. I’m sorry, though. I’m just… it’s really embarrassing to be that late when this was my idea in the first place and—”

“Peter,” Quentin says, cutting him off. “Breathe! It’s fine, I promise.”

For once, Peter listens, and takes a deep breath, holding it in for a moment. Lets it out and relaxes the smallest bit, and grabs his drink. “Oh,” he says. “This is good! Thanks; you were right about me needing it.”

Quentin watches while he unwinds; Peter’s latest idea regarding ‘things they could do together’ was to show Quentin around Queens, so today they’re wandering. Quentin’s thrilled.

It could be worse. Peter had been all set up to take him to the most popular, well known, touristy spots, and Quentin had barely been able to hide his dread at the thought. It’d taken a little work, but he’d manage to convince Peter that Quentin would much rather see Peter’s favorite places. Even if they were nothing fancy or exciting, or little hole in the wall type places, or silly.

Even if they bored Quentin to tears.

Not that he can let Peter see even a hint of that. There’s a special kind of… vulnerability in sharing the smallest things you like, something different than exposing the larger, more damaged pieces of yourself. Something oddly hopeful about showing someone the unexplainable, intimate things you like and waiting for them to enjoy those things as well. Or at the very least, not reject them, in a way that suggests they’re rejecting your tastes as well.

Not rejecting you.

He’s started to prove to Peter he can handle the bigger things, the superhero stuff and the feelings nearly suffocating Peter; time to show that he can be trusted with the little things too. That Peter can come to Quentin with anything at all. Anything. Everything.

“So,” Quentin says. “What’s first?”

He was right; it is pretty boring. Not… awful, surprisingly, but not Quentin’s sort of thing at all. Peter’s apparently decided to try and cover as many miles as he can in one day, dragging Quentin from one end of Queens to the other. And then back; Quentin’s going to take tomorrow off for sure. Peter just has so much energy.

Has so much enthusiasm, Quentin thinks, as they poke through a small used record store that isn’t nearly as hipster as he expected from Astoria. So, so much enthusiasm, for the smallest things. It just bursts out of him once he gets comfortable and isn’t second guessing every single word he says.

Once Quentin has seemed interested in the first few things Peter shows him. Peter’s nervous about it, trying to explain away any shortcomings before Quentin’s even gotten in the door. He’s just desperate for approval, for acceptance. For Quentin to like him.

It’s not that hard to, actually.

It’s never been that Quentin dislikes Peter. Sure, Peter’s causing him grief and can be incredibly annoying, and sure, about half of what he feels for Peter is pity, but those can exist alongside the fact that Quentin kind of likes Peter.

Has liked him, ever since he started compiling research on him, ever since he’d met Peter as Mysterio and shook his hand and watched him get so excited over the existence of multiverse. It’s harder not to like Peter, not even a bit. He’s ridiculously smart, and stupidly good-natured, and—

He throws himself into everything he does; goes full out, with his heart on his sleeve. It’s no wonder he gets anxious as hell, if his first impulse is to practically flaunt all his soft spots, open and eager and expecting the best. It’s going to go poorly more often than not.

Must have, judging by the way Peter pulls himself in and hides, overrides that instinctual reaction so quickly it’s just a flash, a glimpse Quentin keeps catching again and again. He’s been taught to second guess himself somewhere along the way, by someone—probably a lot of someones—who saw those tender spots and couldn’t help poking them, taking advantage of them.

Just like Quentin’s doing; Peter should be better about spotting that sort of thing by now.

It’s almost a shame to fix Peter just to tear him apart completely, to have to use him like this, but… well. In the end, Peter’s nothing but another obstacle scattered in Quentin’s path. There are far more important things to worry about than the fate of one kid.

Peter grins at him when Quentin admits that this dinky little secondhand bookstore in Jamaica was worth a stop, even if it’s just for the most comfortable couch Quentin has ever sat on. Smiles when he points out a mural he loves on the way to the next attraction and admits he’d actually webbed up someone who started to tag it.

Straight up laughs at Quentin’s face when Peter shows him the most supremely creepy things in some huge thrift store, full of weird antiques and vintage crap. God, it’s disturbing that the things Quentin had as a kid, even as a teen, are considered vintage now.

“Jesus, Peter,” Quentin says after he has to look at a one hundred percent haunted taxidermied squirrel. “Why would you make me see that? I’m going to have nightmares.”

“For that exact face,” Peter says. “Oh my god, you look like you think it’s going to bite you!”

“It might,” and it’s unfair that Peter just laughs harder. He glares at Peter, but it might be slightly put on.

He’s allowed to like Peter a little, Quentin decides, watching Peter nearly double over with giggles. It’ll make having to deal with him easier, if nothing else, and it’s not as though liking someone has ever stopped him from using them—even disposing of them—in the past. It sure won’t this time.

They wander some more, Peter chattering on and easily filling the silence as long as Quentin remembers to make the appropriate listening noises occasionally. Every now and then, Peter hesitates, a nervous stumble in his words, something throwing him off, and Quentin reengages fully. He can’t afford to let Peter get too caught up in his thoughts.

But a few questions—carefully designed to make Quentin seem far more interested than he is—are enough to get Peter going again, bouncing from place to place until Quentin suggests they could use something to eat.

“Oh my god, yes,” Peter says. “I’m starving and didn’t even realize it. Ooo, last time we were down here, Ned and I found this awesome truck that does crazy good Korean barbeque, you’d love it.”

“No,” Quentin says without thinking, the sweet tart burnt smell so strong he can nearly taste it, can feel it stinging when he draws in a breath.

He twitches, shrugging it off, and tries to walk back how sharp that had come out. “Uh, I’m not big on sweet sauces and meat?” he says. “Got another recommendation?”

Peter drags him to a place that has the weirdest chimichanga combinations—and normal ones too, thankfully—and once again, attempts to pay.

“You know,” Quentin says as he pokes Peter out of the way, immensely irritated that Peter is still pushing him on this. “I didn’t realize your memory was this bad.”

“Hey!” Peter says. “It’s not! What are you talking about?” like that doesn’t prove Quentin’s point exactly.

“I seem to remember a bet I won,” he says, “relating to this exact situation.”

Peter opens his mouth to protest, and then closes it. “Um,” he says.

“Yeah,” Quentin says,raising his eyebrows.

“Okay,” Peter says, “okay, you can’t blame me for trying!”

“Hmmm,” Quentin says, passing over one of the foam trays. “You’re forgiven. This time. Just don’t do it again.” It’s always a good idea to get Peter into the habit of following Quentin’s rules, of remembering not to challenge Quentin too much.

Of remembering that Quentin will forgive him anything, easily.

“Fine,” Peter says through a mouthful, so mature.

They eat on the way to the next stop on Peter’s little tour; Quentin had been hoping they were approaching the end, but when Peter looks at him and asks, so hesitantly, if Quentin is tired and wants to call it a day—

Well he can’t say no.

Quentin finds himself dragged on to little half hidden shops, with any signage and down stairs that Quentin has to ask how Peter could have found in the first place. To statues Peter likes, to places he feeds pigeons—why he’d want to, Quentin doesn’t know—places with great views of the Hudson.

And, over and over, once Quentin catches on and starts pushing it, places to eat. Because Peter’s metabolism is a thing of wonder.

It’s interesting watching Peter banter back and forth with an older man about his sandwich; Quentin had gotten the impression Peter was uneasy around strangers, all his awkwardness amping up. But the way Peter’s interacted with people today is much more relaxed, much easier. Peter has a sharp sense of humor that Quentin has only started to see, as Peter gets comfortable around him.

Why do all these strangers get it right off the bat?

He watches Peter dart over to help get a stroller over a curb and— they’re not strangers. Not really. It’s not just that everywhere they’ve gone is somewhere Peter has been again and again, to the point where he knows people.

This is Peter’s home ground. His comfort zone, and the people in it— they’re his people. And when he’s helping them, his nerves disappear. His awkwardness becomes a tool of its own, disarming, downplaying the threat Peter could so easily be.

This is what he wants to be when he’s Spider-Man; the guy on the street, helping in a hundred tiny ways.

That’s fine with Quentin. Perfectly fine; now how does he get Peter to stay there, with EDITH looming over his head?

He can practically hear that in William’s voice, ugh. He’s working on it.

They wind up in Kissena late in the afternoon, almost early evening, really. Peter steps off the path once they get into one of the more wooded areas, and there’s a grassy spot past a few bushes, with a truly massive tree near the center, smaller ones scattered around it. It’s well hidden.

“Alright,” Quentin says, as he has with every other place, “what's the story behind this? How’d you find it?”

“So, when I got bit, when everything changed?” Peter settles down at the base of the tree, cross legged. “One of the things that was like, a huge pain, was how all of my senses got crazy amplified. Everything was turned up to eleven, you know?”

Quentin sits across from Peter, stretching his legs out as he leans back. Ugh, grass; he’d better not end up with bug bites. “Okay,” he says. “Sounds like that was pretty overwhelming.”

Peter groans. “You have no idea! It was really hard for a while, because even once I started to get used to everything being too loud and too bright and too smelly and— things tasted weird and my clothes made me feel like my skin was crawling and it was—” He stops, tipping his head back against the tree and looking upward.

“It was a lot,” he says. “Eventually I sorta started being able to deal with all that sort of… feeling stuff? I mean, physical, sensory, not like feeling feelings.”

Coherent; Quentin does not roll eyes through sheer force of will.

“But I was still really struggling with the, um,” Peter frowns, tips his head back further until Quentin can’t really see his face. “The stuff in my head. Actually doing things, thinking about things or even focusing on one thing was all so hard. It was like…”

“It was like what?” Quentin asks, after a few moments have passed.

“Everything was a distraction,” Peter says, slowly. “That’s still not right, because normally, before, I’d get distracted thinking about something else I wanted to do, or I’d be daydreaming, or, um, just, good stuff? Stuff that I’d want to focus on, just not right that second.”

“This wasn’t like this.” Peter looks down and starts to fiddle with a bit of grass, pulling up blades one by one. “This was like so much noise inside my head, like every little detail about every single thing was right there, grabbing my attention. I’d be trying to do one thing and all that would be clamoring at me nonstop.”

He closes his eyes, scrunching his whole face up. “People talk about wanting super sense a lot,” he says, “but it sucked so much at first.”

“People generally don’t think through those kinds of wishes very much,” Quentin says. Honestly, for the most part people don’t think at all.

“I’m pretty much okay now,” Peter says. “I figured out how to filter things most of the time; when there’s a bunch of stuff at once I can get so caught up in trying to ignore it that I ignore everything, and then that’s it’s own problem.”

“I noticed,” Quentin says, dryly. “Makes you pretty jumpy.”

Peter huffs, almost a laugh. “Yeah,” he says, brushing the ripped up grass off his pants. “I’m still working on getting the kinds of focus right?”

Quentin leans further back on his hands, crossing his legs. “You said something about focusing on me that one time,” he says, and Peter goes faintly pink. “That the sort of thing you’re talking about?”

“Something like that,” Peter says. “If I have one thing I can focus on, almost completely, then I can make it into… uh, white noise, I guess? Or it makes everything else into white noise. If that makes any sense at all.”

Not one bit, but whatever. He can press that later. “Sure,” Quentin says, waving his hand. “I’m following.”

It’s actually something to consider— if Peter manages to function better in difficult situations by focusing on one specific thing, what happens when that thing is taken away? Is ripped away from him, in fact. Would there be a moment of disorientation they could take advantage of? Maybe they could set Peter up to focus on what they want; he’s already using Quentin as a focal point, apparently.

He’ll have to watch Peter, Quentin thinks. This fumbling little explanation leaves a lot to be desired, but he doesn’t have much faith Peter actually could explain it better even if he tried.

“That helps,” Peter’s saying, “but it’s still really exhausting after a while. Sometimes I want to just… stop. Just not feel it at all, not have to try not to feel it.”

He glances at Quentin, and Quentin nods. Peter looks oddly shy, so he’d better pay close attention to what he’s showing.

“I’ve found a couple of places like this, but this is probably my favorite,” Peter tells him. “I can come here and actually relax. If I stop trying to block things out, or stop focusing on one thing, it doesn’t matter.” He tips his head back again, looking up at the tree.

“It's quiet here, pretty much all the time,” Peter says; the light through the leaves is diffuse, dappled on his face. “Even the noises that I get are like, soft things. Leaves and wind and things walking on grass. People talking, yeah, but that’s more distant and almost like background noise. It’s still shadowy in here when it’s super bright out, and there aren’t any super gross strong smells either. Just dirt and water and uh, green stuff.”

He darts a glance down at Quentin without moving his head. “Don’t laugh at me!” he says, and it’s right on the edge of plaintive. “I don’t know what else to call it.”

“I’m not,” Quentin says. He understands; it’s not something a city kid would be around that often, would probably even notice without senses like Peter’s. “I wouldn’t. I know what you mean, Peter.”

“Okay,” Peter says. Looks back away from Quentin and then closes his eyes. “It’s nice. And when I have to go back to the real world, it’s not quite as hard to handle.”

Quentin watches him. Watches as he slowly, slowly unwinds. Peter doesn’t move, aside from his head tipping slightly to the side, and Quentin—

He’d thought, earlier, that it was interesting how much Peter loosened up around people he felt comfortable with, places he felt safe. He’d thought it was a large degree of relaxation—and it was—but it was nothing compared to this.

Nothing compared to the way the tension drains from him with each passing second, from every single bit of his body, until he looks calmer than Quentin has ever seen.

Happier.

If this is how he looks when truly relaxed, the level of stress Peter must carry with him every day, everywhere he goes—from the physical tension to the mental, the anxiety, the constant background level of effort that other people don’t have to think about—must be ridiculously high.

He doesn’t want to say anything, do anything, that would break the stillness that seems to have spread over the entire glade. Poor kid. He might be doing a great job at being a pain in Quentin’s ass, but he isn’t cut out for this superhero shit.

Everything Quentin sees just convinced him further that taking EDITH from Peter really is doing him a favor. He’d never intended for that to be true, but— it’s not a terrible byproduct.

Peter sighs eventually, a barely there breath of a thing, opening his eyes halfway. He looks dazed, almost half asleep.

At least, until he notices that Quentin is watching him, and then he flushes. Looks down, the moment dissipating. “Anyway,” Peter says. “It’s— it’s a nice place for me,” like he’s admitting something embarrassing.

“I can tell,” Quentin says, offering him a small smile. “You deal with a lot every day, don’t you.” He shifts against his tree, trying to get more comfortable without Peter noticing and getting all fussy about it.

“I guess,” Peter says.

He picks up a leaf, twirling it through his fingers absently. “It’s getting really frustrating,” he adds. “Because it’s been almost two years, right? So I should have a better handle on this! I shouldn’t still be getting tripped up by such little things. And—” he makes a face, shoulders starting to hunch again.

“So I have this… this sense? Uh, I call it a spidey sense— I know, it’s kind of stupid. It sort of warns me about things? Like someone poking me, or shouting that something bad is about to happen.”

“Mmm, you mentioned that once,” Quentin says. “Sort of like a limited precog?” Honestly, he’d dismissed it— not fully, it wouldn’t do to completely dismiss anything about Peter. But it hadn’t seemed like it did much for Peter in Europe.

And it hadn’t picked up anything about Quentin, so how good could it really be?

“Oh, huh,” Peter says. “I hadn’t really thought of it like that? Maybe, but it’s not very exact. Sometimes it’s super obvious, but others it takes me a while to figure out what’s wrong. And lately, especially, it’s been— it’s gone kinda nuts? I don’t feel like I can trust it anymore.”

“Like, like right now?” he adds. “Right now it’s just going off like something really big and bad is happening, but come on!” He throws his hands up, exaggerated. “We’re just sitting here talking! Nothing, literally nothing bad is happening. It’s freaking out for no reason.”

Fuck.

Maybe he really shouldn’t have dismissed it, Quentin thinks, trying to stay as relaxed as he was a moment ago. Maybe he really fucking shouldn’t have, because some part of Peter knows that Quentin’s not good news. Knows that Quentin is something dangerous, is a threat.

And apparently knows it very, very insistently. Oh, fuck, this is the last thing he needs. Why now? Why is Peter’s sense losing its shit now and not at any time in Europe? What has he done differently to set it off?

God, what if it had been going off then too? Could that be why Peter had backed off at the last second in the bar, EDITH almost in Quentin’s hand? Has Peter been feeling this the entire time?

It’s a good thing he doesn’t seem to be listening to it, but that could stop at any second. At any time, Peter could decide that maybe his stupid ‘spider sense’ isn’t wrong, and that would be— that would be bad. That would be so bad.

Quentin has got to figure out how to make sure Peter keeps dismissing what it’s telling him.

“It’s so annoying,” Peter’s saying. “I wish it would stop, would just shut up already. It’s like this constant thing lately, sort of fading in and out but almost always there, but not a single thing has happened!”

Oh, that’s really, really not great. Almost always? In and out? How long will it take before Peter starts to realize it’s linked to Quentin?

No. No, he can fix this. He can nip this in the bud, before Peter has even a hint of suspicion. Peter’s already trying to ignore it, already annoyed by it. Quentin can use that.

“Maybe it’s just confused?” Quentin brings one knee up and rests his elbow on it, letting his arm dangle oh so casually. “After all,” he adds, “I’m hardly a bad thing, am I?”

Peter smiles, all that irritation gone in a second. “No!” he says. “Of course not! You’re like, the least bad thing that’s happened in a while.”

Quentin grins back at him. Yeah, keep thinking that, kid. “Well that’s a relief!” he says. “How finely tuned is this thing anyway? Could something have… I don’t know, damaged it? Hmm, screwed up its baseline, maybe? How do you even recalibrate it?”

“I have no clue,” Peter says. “I mean, it’s not like I can’t really test it or fix it or whatever. It’s practically useless now.”

Perfect; he wants Peter distrusting this sense. Wants him not thinking about it at all, avoiding the topic entirely— ah.

If he can get Peter thinking his damaged sense has something to do with the fights he’s been in, these bigger battles, that would be ideal. Peter’s already trying hard not to think about those; tie this sense to them as well, and he’ll just have even more reason to avoid both

“Could something have overloaded it?” Quentin asks. “Just completely swamped it, and it hasn’t recovered yet? If it got used to there being danger nonstop, on all sides, maybe it can’t stand down.”

“…maybe?” Peter says. “But I don’t know what would have caused that, or even when. It doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

What.

Really, Quentin thinks, really? Peter can’t think of anything that would fit? Why wouldn’t he think of that? “Nothing?” he says, quietly.

Peter frowns. Takes a moment, and when he opens his mouth, Quentin is almost sure he’s made the connection; but Peter hesitates. Shrugs. “Not anything that’s like, major or a big deal or anything,” he says.

Does Peter— has he really managed to convince himself that all the fighting he’s done is nothing? Or at least, been trying to, because that hesitation says a lot.

He should have expected this, with the way Peter’s consistently downplayed himself so far. He really should have, but somehow it still annoys him. No wonder Peter isn’t willing to admit how scared and screwed up he is, if he thinks he’s completely overreacting to ‘no big deal’.

“Well,” Quentin says, and he’s watching Peter carefully. He doesn’t know quite how this will hit. “You were at war, on a battlefield. More than once, even. That can really mess you up in all kinds of ways.” Remember, Peter, he thinks. Remember that you were hurt, that there’s a good reason to be scared. To run.

“I— that—” Peter stares at him. “I wasn’t in a war,” he says. Dammit. Looks like downgrading it in his head is exactly what Peter’s been doing, and that is exactly the opposite of what Quentin wants.

“No? What would you call it?” Quentin asks, raising an eyebrow. He pushes himself more upright, uncrossing his legs. “It sounded a lot like war to me.”

Peter shakes his head, fingers crushing the leaf he’s been playing with. “It was just a fight,” he says, strained. “That’s all!”

A fight. Just a fight, like it was nothing more than a little spat, was nothing at all. Has someone been telling him this, reinforcing it? Fury, maybe, or even Tony before that?

He knows Fury wants Peter to think he can handle things, but has he also been trying to convince him that what he’s been through so far was small enough Peter should have been able to handle it? Should be able to handle the aftereffects? That he shouldn’t be upset about it, that he’s overreacting?

That’s not good; Quentin doesn’t need Peter doubting he can handle things. He needs Peter to be certain he can’t, and more, that it’s perfectly normal. Acceptable. Not something horribly selfish at all.

“Peter,” he says, “it wasn’t just a fight.”

“It was! It was just one— it wasn’t a war!”

“It wasn’t— Peter,” Quentin says, and sighs. “It was a lot more than that. You’ve been dragged from fight to fight to fight the past couple of years, without anyone helping you after; from what I hear, you really could have used some after that thing upstate.”

He huffs, too sharp to be a real laugh. “And that’s just what I know of,” he adds. “I’m not stupid enough to assume that’s everything.”

Peter sucks in a sharp breath, his hands fisted on his thighs. Blinks, and then looks at Quentin intently, his brow furrowed. “How do you even know about that? About— about other fights?”

“I spent some time talking with Fury,” Quentin says. “He wasn’t big on details, but I got enough that I can fill them in on my own. I’m willing to bet he doesn’t even know every fight you’ve been in, though I’m sure he’d like me to think so.”

He’d been talking with Janice, more like. God, she’d been such a find; seething about having had Tony himself be an ass to her, more than once, but willing to stay where she was to pass things on. She’d had access to so much confidential information, and every time SI and SHIELD decided to bury another thing, shift the blame and throw money at it until it all went away—for them, at least—she’d gotten a little more resentful.

It’s true that they might not have the finer details—it drives him nuts how sparse the info about whatever it was that crashed SI’s plane into the beach is—but he has enough to know that Peter’s been involved time and time again.

“Oh,” Peter says, looking down, losing some of his ire. “You probably didn’t hear much good, I bet. But— it doesn’t matter if it was more than one fight, cause they were all different. All like, spread out and about other stuff. It’s still not war.”

“What do you think war is, then?” Quentin asks, actually curious.

“I don’t, uh. War is… more?” Peter stumbles along, and he’s being incredibly stubborn about this. “More than that, than any of those. Worse. Way worse. You don’t— you weren’t there, you don’t know what it was really like. It wasn’t like that.”

“I think,” Quentin says dryly, “I have a pretty good idea of what war is.”

Peter looks absolutely horrified. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he says. “God, I didn’t mean— I’m sorry, I didn’t think— I just, just meant that you were in a war. In a real, horrible, endless one and this…” He shudders. “These were just fights. It’s not the same, it’s not anywhere near as bad.”

“I’m so sorry,” Peter says. Looks at Quentin and then drops his head into his hands, knees coming up as he curls in on himself. “Fuck, I’m so sorry Quentin, I didn’t mean…”

This is really not what he was going for. Shit, he shouldn’t have said it like that; Peter’s too sensitive for him to be even a little sharp.

Quentin sighs, very softly, though he’s sure Peter still catches it. Pushes himself up onto his feet and walks over to Peter, who doesn’t even look up. “I know you didn’t mean it like that,” Quentin says. “It’s okay, Peter.”

Peter just shakes his head a little; Quentin thinks of sighing again but—somehow—manages to restrain himself. He sits down next to Peter, his back against the tree.

“War doesn’t have to go for a long time to be real,” he says, not looking at Peter. “It doesn’t have to drag on and on for it to still be awful, for it to still affect you,” and Jesus, he’s had to hear shit along those lines so many times. Had to sit there and listen to people be told over and over that what happened to them is worth being fucked up over.

Even if it isn’t. There’s a lot of reasons he never opened his mouth at those meetings, and his disgust at everyone else was the biggest. What a waste of time.

Well. Maybe not. It did give him the material to work Peter over.

“It doesn’t have to be some huge, dramatic battle to qualify,” Quentin says. “It still counts. Pretending it doesn’t doesn’t get it out of your head.” Come on, he thinks, let it be bad, be a nightmare. Admit that there’s a good reason, a real reason, for you to be scared, and then you can back down without shame. Come on, Peter.

“It doesn’t feel like it should count,” Peter says, a bit muffled, head still in his hands. “It wasn’t— lots of people have dealt with so much worse. Something like this, it’s not— it’s not an excuse for, for…”

He doesn’t finish that thought, but Quentin doesn’t need him to. An excuse, hmm? He turns his head toward Peter, just a bit. “Why don’t you want to call it a war?”

Peter lifts his head, arms sliding down to cross across his chest. “Why does it matter to you what I call it?” he asks, and there’s a hint of sharpness in there. Maybe even anger. “Why do you even care if I admit— if I think it’s a war?”

Nice little slip there; isn’t that interesting. Peter does know it was more than a few little fights. He knows, he’s just trying as hard as he can to pretend otherwise. Trying to redirect, as usual, turning the question back on Quentin. Why does it matter, Peter wants to know, and there are so many answers Quentin could give.

It matters because you need to see yourself as badly damaged. Because you need to acknowledge that this is something huge and overwhelming and frightening. Because I need you to start accepting what I say as right, start accepting me as an authority. I need you to not question me.

So many reasons, and he can’t tell Peter any of them. Ugh.

He turns further toward Peter. “Because I think you’re doing yourself a disservice,” Quentin says, tightly, irritation rising up in him. “When you sit there and insist that it’s nothing more than a little fight, when you play it off like it’s nothing— you’re devaluing what you did, and that’s wrong.”

“Don’t act like what you went through, what you did, doesn’t count,” Quentin says, and Peter’s looking over at him, startled. “That it wasn’t brave as hell, and terrifying as hell too.”

Peter stares, his eyes very wide. “I— it’s not like I did more than anyone else there. Than, than anyone else would have.”

“It sounds like you did more than enough,” Quentin says. “And— it doesn’t matter, Peter. It still messes you up. War fucks everyone up. Maybe it didn’t go on long enough for it to really warp your thinking, your morals or empathy or capacity to even feel, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t damage you.”

Peter jerks, sitting up straighter. “I’m not damaged!”

For fuck’s sake.

Quentin has to dig deep for a bit more patience. “Sure you are. Hey, Peter— wait,” he says, watching as Peter shuts down all over again, hurt. “That’s not bad, kid. It’s not an insult. It’s just… you gotta admit that before you can get better.”

Or not, if Quentin gets his way; admitting it might lead to Peter actually getting over his fear and stepping up. But with Quentin around, guiding him along? Peter’s never going to take that admission as anything other than a personal failure.

As just another reason he can’t, and someone else should.

“I don’t know,” Peter mutters. “It doesn’t feel like it should count.”

Quentin watches him for a minute. Leans in, his shoulder bumping against Peter’s. “You’d agree that I’ve been in war, right?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“And that I’m able to judge what is and isn’t war. Right?”

Peter can be smart, sometimes. He sees where this is going. Sighs. “Yeah,” he says.

“Will you—” Quentin pauses, waits until Peter is looking at him. “Can you trust me here, and believe that I mean it when I say what you went through was war?”

Peter blinks, his eyes dropping. He’s silent, and Quentin can feel the muscles of his arm moving as Peter fiddles with something out of sight. “I’ll think about it,” Peter says, which is not quite the response Quentin was hoping for. Still, it’s not another denial. Baby steps.

“I’ll— maybe,” Peter says. “I guess you would know, even if you weren’t there.”

“You should listen to me,” Quentin agrees, leaning a little harder against Peter. “I do know!”

You should listen to me, and only me, he thinks. We’ll get you there, kid.

Peter huffs softly, pushing back against Quentin’s shoulder. “Maybe,” but he’s smiling faintly.

Quentin smiles back; he can accept a maybe, for now.

He’ll get a yes soon enough.