#And to write with youuu

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; gn!reader

thinking about roomie!suguru, who steps out of the bathroom with just a towel hanging loosely around his waist. it's dangerously low and his happy trail is... leading your eyes to a forbidden place. water droplets cascade down his temple and his neck, his scarred chest and his toned muscles.

he finishes drying his hair with another, smaller towel before slinging it over his shoulder. he gives you a warm smile. there's still a bit of sleep in his tired eyes but he looks fresh, he looks good.

(he looks more than good.)

the morning light shines in through the small window of your shared kitchen and he hums at the smell of coffee. you're an angel leaning on the counter, hands busy with preparing your drink as he steps inside.

he chuckles. he asked you a question but you didn't hear it. he smells so fucking good; the smell of his shampoo and his fancy conditioner wash over your senses and it's easy to forget where you are. his eyes flick behind you before walking over to you with a smug little grin.

he bores his sharp purple eyes into yours – he loves how you react to him. he doesn't shy away from it, he's cockier than he looks. he loves the attention, he loves to be in your spotlight. he wouldn't care so much if you were a stranger, if you were a random person on the street ogling away, ut you're neither of those things, are you? no, you're something else.

he exudes warmth as he towers over you, his head tilted down to keep his eyes on you. he wants to play with you a little – he loves the way you're staring up at him right now. eyes big and wide, lip tucked under between your teeth. he's good with people, he can read them like a book and you're no different. he sees you swallow a dry lump, he sees you grace him with a flustered smile as you try to brush by the fact that he caught you admiring him red handed. he sees the way you're taking deeper breaths than normal, surely just to keep your composure. he can't wait to break you.

his arm reaches behind you to turn off the coffee machine with a small click.

"wouldn't wanna make a mess this early in the morning, now would we?"

melting. crumbling. falling down to your knees. you hate how much he teases (you love it), you hate how patronizing he sounds (it's hot). he's the only one that can get away with it – a charming smile that hides his deepest desires of sinking his teeth into little lambs like you, soft eyes that hide the need to watch them unfold before him.

his gentle hands long to hold, long to keep and covet. he thinks about you a lot; your shared mornings and afternoons, your exhausted naps and bitter rants about your days. shy gazes and lingering touches, stupid jokes and the cute little hidden sounds he keeps hearing from your room in the late hours. he's being patient, he's warming you up.

he's just as infatuated with you as you are with him. he's just more subtle with it.

or is he?

because you've heard him, too.

you don't know whether he's doing it unknowingly or he's actually trying to make you go insane – whichever it is, you are ready to bend at his will. soft groans accompanied by a steady slick pump; you didn't mean to listen in. you just wanted to make sure he's okay!

ear against the wooden door, you listened to him think about you. your name was on the tip of his tongue, but it was too early for that. he wants to smear you with his honey, he wants to drag you in but he needs to wait for it. this is perfect.

he did know you're were there.

he heard the floor creak, he heard the cutest gasp that left your pretty lips. fuck, you're perfect. his head was lolled back as he stroked himself to the thought of your wide, doe-eyes. how flustered you'd be, how flustered you were in that very moment. he imagined your trembling hands and your stuttered words and his dick twitched in his palm.

he thought about inviting you in and just making him watch as a form of punishment, for being a little pervert. he shuddered out a laugh and watched a glob of pre-cum cover his own fingers before mixing with the saliva and spit that's covering him already. he thought about making you sit between his legs so he could jerk off right in front of your beautiful face, he thought about your wobbly lips, your teary eyes. the way your thighs would press together.

your fingers would itch and twitch and he'd make you place them on your legs. he wouldn't want you to touch. yet. maybe he'd make you apologize and maybe he'd make you kiss the tip. he thought about how good you'd smell, how good you'd taste. another raspy groan crawled up his throat and you were about to cum untouched behind his door. like a creep.

he loves it. he's proud of you, he wants to push you even further. he wants to see what else he can make you do. this is exciting and he can't wait to devour you whole as a reward after he's done bullying himself into your body and your mind. utterly loved and corrupted—

— you're meant for him.

[evidenceof]

i have just said something ridiculous to you

Joe Toye has a nice face, George thinks. Strong nose, strong brows, and a scowl that George realized he liked to earn. Miles deep into 2nd Battalion's march to Atlanta, George Luz hears an Irish song from across their frozen campground.

happiest holidays, @blood-mocha-latte, my hbo war 2025 secret santa baby!! ♡ crossing my fingers and hoping i did their voices/headspaces justice. this present is brought to you by equal parts mary oliver's 'i have just said,' that you love, and toye's atlanta march predicament™. i very humbly give to you my very first luztoye fic.

I have just said something ridiculous to you and in response, your glorious laughter. - 'I Have Just Said' by Mary Oliver

-----------------------------------

December 1, 1942 | 2330 hours Campgrounds, 38 miles from Fort Benning

The butter tastes like nothing on his frozen tongue. George winces at the thin oily film it leaves behind in his mouth after he swallows. Too fucking cold, everything was too fucking cold. A ragged chuckle saws its way through his throat while he watches Perco fight a losing battle against his hard slice of bread. Eventually, he rips it in half, elbow colliding with the tent wall and almost costing them their flimsy shelter. A hundred and fifteen miles and they had to survive off of stale bread and pats of butter.

“The way we live you’d think we’re already at the front of the fucking lines.” Perco’s voice was muffled under a thick scarf. “I don’t know what’s worse. This or shit on a shingle.”

“Come on, we got it made.” George lights a cigarette, and flicks off his lighter in an attempt to sweep away any talk of war. “Sightseeing the backcountry, free food, free clothes. These fuckin’ boots? Babies are the best in General Patton's Third Army, so I’ve heard.” His boot lands back on the cold ground with a pathetic thump from where he lifted it. 

“Aw, shut up, Luz.” Perco shoves him backwards, hard, half a slice of bread still in his hand, but with a grin already plastered on his face.

Just barely missing the tent wall, George regains his balance. “All right, all right. Jeez,” he laughs. He presses his hand on Perco’s head to push himself up, earning him a scowl. “Gonna go find a fire before this thing collapses on us.”

The flap of the tent all but snaps in half when he throws it open. Ice crackles down the drab green canvas like peanut brittle. Outside, cold air smacks against George’s face as he takes in the columns of tents around him that stand frosted and gleaming in the moonlight. The temperature had dropped earlier in the afternoon, but tomorrow promised worse terrain because, as far as George was concerned, God had abandoned 2nd Battalion specifically. Why else would they be the only ones walking all the way to fucking Atlanta? There's thirty eight more miles and not nearly enough bad Sobel impressions in George’s back pocket to last them that far.

With a single drag, he polishes off the remainder of his cigarette. Squinting, he spots Lip and Guarnere in the middle of what looks like an attempt at walking without having to bend their knees. Their frosty puffs of breath mirror the smoke he exhales. He sees Lip’s hand raise to greet him at the same time a bad tune cuts across the field, louder than the muffled grousing from inside the pup tents. Only George whips his head towards the direction of the sound.

“Luz, what’re you up to?” Lip’s voice is firm. George doesn’t see, but he hears the smile in it.

“Better not be doin’ anything fuckin’ stupid. I’m goddamn tired of that pansy chicken-shit officer breathing down my neck all fuckin’ day,” spits Guarnere, digging his hands deeper into his pockets. “Sobel, I mean. Winters ain’t no chicken-shit at least.”

George doesn't expect the polite chuckle from Lip who's quick to follow it up with a stern, “Bill.” At that, Guarnere raises an eyebrow like a demanding child, a look that George knows he never let his ma see. “But he’s right, keep your head outta trouble, Luz. Got enough to deal with while Toye’s relegated to K.P,” continues Lip with a grimace.

George tips his head in the direction of the broken Irish song still flitting in the air. “That him?” The scowl on Guarnere’s face is confirmation enough. “What’d he do?”

“Go ask him if you’re so fuckin’ curious,” Guarnere sneers. “Hey, I’m serious Luz. Give Sobel an excuse to take away passes and I’ll shove a trench knife up your ass.”

George knuckles his forehead to mock-salute Guarnere and gives Lip a wink. “I’ll behave for you, Bill,” he sing-songs. It only takes him a second to quash his finished cigarette under his boot before his feet start moving towards the sound almost involuntarily. He finds Toye hunched over a fire, chin resting on his legs that are folded in front of him. Even tucked into himself, there was something intimidating about his angles. It’s those goddamn broad shoulders of his, wide like no one’s business. Certainly not George’s. He doesn’t recognize the words Joe is singing but the tune’s familiar enough. Once or twice, he found himself straining to hear it in the Toccoa showers. It almost feels like a shame to put an end to it. Almost.

“Thought someone was dying. Your bad singing why they’re making you do this?” chides George, nudging Toye with his boot before he takes a seat on the ground. 

Toye clenches his jaw in acknowledgment, any lingering mirth vanishing from his face. “Luz,” says Toye, already exasperated. George watches him jab the weak fire with a stick. The orange glow casts shadows on his irritated face. Nothing quite like pissing off Joe Toye. He has a nice face, George thinks. Strong nose, strong brows, a scowl that George realized he liked to earn. Even with the darkness under his eyes, Toye looks sturdy.

“Aw, c’mon Toye. Not happy to see me?” His teeth chatter and Toye’s lip twitches into the beginnings of a smile. “Lighten up will ya?”

A gust of wind makes them both adjust their scarves. From under his own, Toye shakes his head before glaring at the stick in his hand. George can see him weighing out the pros and cons of throwing it into the pit. “I did. Look where that got me,” says Toye, eventually.

“Hey, least you’re warm right?” George smiles at him while dislodging a clump of dirt from the sole of his boot to throw in Toye’s direction. When it hits the side of his leg, Toye barely flinches. So it was like that, huh? George digs his heel into the hardened ground, dragging himself closer to Joe. “So what’d you do? You can trust me. Who the fuck am I gonna tell?”

Toye continues staring at the flames like they’d done something to offend him. When he doesn’t answer, George inches forward, tracking cold moisture and mud on his trousers. For a moment he’s convinced Toye isn’t paying attention, but George sees how his eye twitches in time with the sound of his ODs scritching against the ground.

“Toye. Toye. Toye. Joe Toye. C’mon, buddy. Tell good ol’ George,” he says, slightly out of breath as he continues to drag himself closer. 

Bright dots of orange float up into the inky blue night when Toye jostles the firewood with his stick. “Not sure you wanna know, Luz,” he says gravely. “What, you need new source material or something? Running out of punchlines?”

“Me? Nah. Been practicing my Strayer,” says George, grinning. He’s not sure if he imagines the little nod from Toye. “When I get that pitch perfect, it'll last us ’til we ship out at least. You’ll fuckin’ see.” There’s caked mud on the ass of his ODs, he feels it. But now Toye was in perfect prodding distance and that made the journey worth it. With his fist, George nudges him once, twice, but he still looks like a goddamn statue staring at the fire, unmoving. “C’mon Toye. What’d you do?”

Nothing prepares him for how quickly Toye swivels his body towards his. He’s so close that George feels his breath on his cheek when Toye says, “You really wanna know? How about you ask me nice, Luz? Throw in a little favor?”

“Like what…?” says George, schooling his face into seriousness. Were Toye’s lashes always this long? George swears he feels the phantom brush of them against his goddamn forehead. He isn’t proud of the way it makes him miss a beat or causes that slight tremble in his voice. Nothing he couldn’t chalk up to the cold, he thinks. And he fucking would, if anyone asks.

“Like take over with these fires for me, you fuckin’ idiot,” growls Toye in his usual low gravelly voice. The white of his teeth catches the corner of George’s eye, then the pink of his lower lip. Damn. It feels almost too late when Toye thwacks the long stick against George’s chest and he nearly falls backwards. “My arm’s falling asleep.”

Clearing his throat to pull himself together is a decision George regrets immediately. It’s raw and cold like the rest of him. But he can deal with the shards of glass lodged into his windpipe better than the fucking knots that just erupted in his stomach. What was with that? He swipes the stick and turns to face the fire so that Joe is just a smudge in his periphery. From a few feet away, he hears Lieb and Alley laughing mercilessly. The thought of them witnessing all that makes his face burn, but he reminds himself everyone’s huddled in their own pup tents.

Toye's voice, resigned now, floats from beside George suddenly. It’s soft from fatigue. “Kid wanted to know what it felt like,” he says but doesn't continue. 

“What what felt like?” George pokes the fire. There’s a hiss and crackle of wood before Toye replies.

“What it’s like to pick up a skirt,” mumbles Toye, sounding embarrassed, forgiving maybe. “Says he gets nervous easy. He’s a buddy of mine from Dog Company, knew him from Pennsylvania, worked the coal mines together. He’s… you know? All stiff-like. Kinda like—”

“Like Winters?” George answers. “The fuck is wrong with you people from Pennsylvania. You born with a complimentary stick up your ass or what?” George wonders if that was too much, but he hears a huff from beside him—a sound that, from his limited knowledge, is the closest thing Toye gets to laughing. There’s a giddiness in his chest that tells him he’s been wanting to hear that for a while.

“Yeah. Yeah, like Lieutenant Winters,” replies Toye, less grave now. George turns to find him smiling down at the ground almost sleepily. It triggers a fresh set of knots right below George’s belly. It makes sense that the guy would ask Toye, George decides. With a face like that, eyes like that, he could bring home just about anyone he wanted. “Tells me he gets jittery, that friend of mine. Loses his fucking words. Needs practice. Needs advice,” says Toye. 

“Just need a face like yours.” It tumbles out of George’s mouth automatically. God, he wanted to shove one of the burning logs down his throat. But if Toye heard, he didn’t show it. Recovering, George continues, “What’d you tell him?”

Calm as anything, Toye lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “I didn’t. Gave him a little practical exercise and pushed the guy against a wall,” he says with an even voice. From where he’s turned, the fire illuminates only a portion of his face. Even from a partial view, George could tell he wasn’t joking. Unsurprising; Toye rarely did. “Evans saw.”

“So he served you K.P. duty for jostling a guy? Sounds about right.” George laughs, imagining Evans’ prissy frown. “Your broads usually slam you against walls?”

As an answer, Toye smiles, all teeth, and George stops laughing. 

“It was nothing serious. Wanted to see how well he could come up with one of those lines of his in that position. Said he’s been practicing,” insists Toye. A tiny smirk tugs at the corner of his lip at the sudden shift in George’s face. “I was gentle though, but I think that was the problem. I, uh… I think he liked it.”

There was something about the image George couldn’t quite put together in his mind. He frowns. I think he liked it. 

“You shoulda seen Evans’ face. Kinda looks like yours right now actually, but less red,” Toye grins and George fights the urge to hide his head under his scarf. “Ripped my friend away from me and doled out the punishment. But really, the fucking kicker was him telling me to go see the chaplain. Fucking self-righteous asshole.”

“The chaplain? Since when the fuck do you need to—” Suddenly, it clicks in his mind, and he imagines the scene Evans must have walked into that night. Toye resting a hand against the wall beside the private’s face, the incline of his broad shoulders pointing inward, caging him. Gentle . Those big eyes and lashes too fucking close: Toye looking like the very picture of ease. Only in his head, George erases the face of the nameless PFC from Dog Company and replaces it with his own. Toye’s angles leaning towards him, lips inches away from his face, the feeling of his gravelly voice trailing from the tip of George’s nose all the way down under his shirt. He chokes a bit when he says, disbelieving, “No. Fuck, Toye. Nah, that ain’t right. What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t,” says Toye tightly and looks up to glare at him. George can’t quite meet his eyes. “I was lightening up, remember?”

This close to the fire, George’s hands still feel like ice. “You’re insane, Joe. Fucking insane,” he says, trying to shake off the thought of Toye being close, peering up at a guy through his lashes like a dame. Suddenly, George’s trousers feel tight and his head was spinning in all possible directions.

“Didn’t hurt him. Was only trying to help. I was gentle, like I said,” Toye says lightly, voice already edged with sleep and without a trace of guilt. “Want a demonstration, Luz?”

“What, so you can get caught again? You plan on being K.P. until we’re shipped out?” George hears the higher register in his voice, and feels the way his heart rams against his sternum. He can’t look at Toye so he pokes the fire instead. A hot splinter flies onto his hand and he lets it sting, steering his full attention to the tiny patch of burning flesh.

Toye’s voice is thick with the lack of sleep, but more importantly is suddenly right behind George’s ear, brushing against the tiny hairs he didn’t know existed there. “I won’t tell if you don’t. I can keep a secret,” whispers Toye. George almost moans, but catches himself. It comes out a fumbling huff instead. The tightness of his trousers stop him from moving away.

“Well,” George tries to say. His zipper brushes against his skivvies and he almost jumps. If not for the jacket, the tented crotch area of his trousers would be on full display. Christ, he hopes Toye’s sleep-deprived enough to forget all this by the end of the march. “I can’t.” 

Toye laughs, fully now. George feels it on his nape, the hahas hitting his skin like long-burning coals. God, it felt good. 

“I’ll try it on you one day, Luz,” says Toye. George isn’t sure if he imagines Toye’s palm resting on his hip. It's too much and he feels like passing out. All the blood from his brain seems pool to right down into his crotch. It was getting harder to think, let alone respond. 

“You’re funny,” manages George eventually. Toye’s breath smells like Juicy Fruit, sweet.

“Yeah? I like surprising people like that,” says Toye, like a purr. When he moves away, Toye keeps the smile fixed on his face. The missing pressure of his hand leaves a cold mark on George’s side. So that was real. The affirmation only intensifies the heat below his stomach.

“You make a habit of shoving enlisted men against walls?” breathes George. It feels too good to keep this line of conversation going, everything in his body says so. But George couldn’t trust himself or his faculties. He was still thinking of Juicy Fruit in his mouth.

“Among other things.” Toye smirks lazily at him, and tilts his head up at the sky. George tells himself it’s the fatigue and the proximity to smoke that makes every word Toye says sound flirtatious. This fucking march had everyone acting strange, especially him.

“You are insane,” he says again, voice trembling. No way in hell was this guy a fairy. Didn’t fucking look like one anyway, all broad shouldered and angular. Nothing about him swished: not his fucking voice, or his fucking hips. Shit just don’t add up like that. But neither did the tightness in his OD trousers that didn't feel like it would disappear fast enough.

“A compliment coming from you, George.” Toye buries his face in his palms. “Fuck, I’m tired,” he says, the words drawn out of him like an exhale.

George watches his body sway slightly, tipping almost imperceptibly in and out of consciousness. “You sleep at all Joe?” Toye yawns as an answer; it shudders through him. He was just tired and spread thin, George thinks, they all were. And that got you acting different, that got you acting abnormal.

“No. But Evans still has it out for me. He’s lurking somewhere,” Toye says, not looking up from where George thinks he’s already fallen half asleep. The sharp angles of Toye’s shoulders droop, sagging under the weight of a second day without sleep. George lights another cigarette, finally, to keep his hands from doing something really fucking stupid like throwing a blanket over Toye and shoving his head onto his lap. Shit that guy from Dog Company can’t do, he thinks, feeling an odd barb of possessiveness while looking at Toye’s drooping head.

“Hey, I got this, all right?” argues George, gesturing at the growing fire.

“Shut up, Luz. I’m not looking for handouts.” But Toye’s voice dips in volume, belying the stubbornness in it.

“C’mon, Joe. You can’t be the only one handing out favors from the goodness of your heart,” George offers something like understanding. From his palms, Toye glances up at him, questioning. He’d look almost offended if he didn’t look so soft.

“Twenty minutes. Sleep. We got thirty-eight miles left in the morning and you look like shit,” continues George. Toye’s gaze doesn’t move away from him. So he stares back, feeling a little selfish, tracing Toye’s dark lashes and pink lips with his eyes. He wonders if they’ll ever get to sit this close again. “I’m saying if Evans comes around, I’ll charm him for ya.”

“Yeah?” says Toye, still looking at George, a small smile hooked on his lips. The sounds of the camp feel like they’ve all but disappeared. “Yeah. You’re good at that.”

His cigarette burns down to the filter but George continues to suck on it, unable to fish it out with his shaking hands that he’s hidden in his jacket pockets. They’re warm now, so it couldn’t have been the cold causing the trembling. He can still feel Toye’s laugh ricocheting on his neck.

Toye breaks their little staring contest and faces the fire. “Fine, twenty minutes.” 

“Sure buddy.” George watches Toye’s chin droop down onto his chest and his eyes flutter shut, lashes twitching. He’s asleep immediately. When he’s sure Toye was out cold, George fishes out a blanket from his pack and drapes the whole thing across Toye’s shoulders with a gentleness he didn’t know he had. “Take as long as you like.”

[illmasc]

Hi hello. Totally legit scientist here. I’m doing a private study to see if tdick can get another trans guy pregnant. You seem to be a good test subject.

I’ll try different positions, different toys, tools, engage different specific kinks, etc. I estimate it’ll take about a week and you’ll have to stay in my “lab” full time. You’ll be given an IV of nutrients so we won’t even have to stop to eat You’ll be restrained of course, I anticipate you might get a bit resistant once the real overstimulation sets in.

If you’re not pregnant after it’s over, we’ll just have to try again with new methods. I’m sure you’ll get knocked up eventually.

i’ll wake up blinking in the bright overhead lights, already restrained. I don’t remember how I got here, but one thing is for certain—i’m completely naked on this table, covered in that shitty paper they have at the doctor’s office. my legs are in stirrups.

something’s coming back to me—I came into this trans-friendly clinic that promised free birth control services. i’ve never been good at regularly taking the pill, so I jumped at the chance to try out the test trial, advertised as ‘no stress! have all the sex you want!’

Vulgar, sure, but as a broke, disorganized college student, it was too good to pass up.

I figured it would be a little questionable, so i shake off any feelings of doubt. I’ll ask when it starts, to which you’ll just smile and rub at my thigh with your cold, latex-gloved hand. You press into my hole without warning, rubbing my insides until they respond against my will. This isn’t what they usually do at the gynecologist, but I’ve never gotten an IUD before—maybe this is all standard. Still, I’m starting to get nervous. It feels good, but…

“Will it hurt?” I’ll ask you, “The IUD. I’ve heard it—“

“You’re not getting an IUD today,” you’ll explain as you continue to work your fingers on me. Opening me up. “Don’t you remember? You signed on to join our test trial.”

I didn’t read any of the papers I signed at the intake. I just figured it would be an IUD…or Nexplanon, but they don’t put those in your…

You’re still touching me. You’re basically fingering me. worse—I’m struggling not to cum. Already. I might be a touchstarved little slut, but even this is a record for me.

Passing out, waking up nude, with my body reacting this way…it all puts a sour taste in my mouth. My mind feels like it’s turning to sludge as you tease my cervix.

“What did you…did you…drug me? What is this?”

You ignore my questions, and keep prepping me with your fingers. I wince in pleasure as your thumb finds my perky, aching tdick. “We’re going to start out vanilla, but don’t worry. If it doesn’t take, I have plenty of…aid.”

I only notice that your pants are down around your knees when you bring your hips flush with my entrance. I feel your tdick brush against me, replacing the void your fingers left. You smile at me, and I know what’s about to happen.

“If…sorry, when it works, you won’t have to worry about birth control. At least, not for nine months.”

[celesteablack]

You know, I always cry about how I don’t have my childhood friends with me anymore. It’s a bittersweet ache, like missing a part of myself that I can never get back. But somehow, in the middle of mourning that loss, I often forget to truly appreciate the friends I found when my life was falling apart.

These aren’t the friends who’ve known me since I was a carefree kid. They’re the ones who showed up when I was at my lowest, when everything felt like it was slipping through my fingers, and I didn’t even know how to catch my breath. They’re the ones who stood by me when I was spiraling, lost in a whirlwind of everything and nothing all at once.

They didn’t just watch me break; they held me through it. They gave me a space to fall apart and, somehow, helped me piece myself back together without ever making me feel ashamed of my cracks. They stayed when staying wasn’t easy. They believed in me when I couldn’t believe in myself, and their presence gave me a reason to hold on, even when I wanted to let go.

These friends, these angels in disguise, deserve all my gratitude, and yet, I don’t think I say it enough. So, here’s to them. Here’s to the people who didn’t know me in my brightest moments but still chose to stick around in my darkest ones. And no matter where life takes us, I’ll forever carry your kindness in my heart.

Thank you for being kind to me when I couldn’t be kind to myself. For loving me when I struggled to love who I was. You gave me grace and patience, and that meant more than words can ever express.

[carniferous]

okay hello i’ve come to offer a vague concept ❤️🤲 the first thing that came into my mind is like being in a car. and something being wrong w the car. which sounds so stupid but is hopefully vague enough?? also idk if i’m meant to specify a ship but (and you probs already know what i’m gonna say) ur bartylus genuinely changed my life and it’s always on my mind and im obsessed w it forever and ever and would die if you ever wrote them again (but also like. no pressure. i don’t wanna try and tie you down to one specific pathway) ANYWAY i hope this is vague enough but also not too vague that you’re just staring at me blankly rn… icl babe u really didn’t set any parameters so i’m kinda trying to spear fish in the dark here but im gonna stop talking now…. eagerly (but patiently!!) awaiting ur response <33

LMAO NOOO thank you so much this is exactly the level of vagueness i wanted!!! i simply need to let things cook in my beautiful mind palace before i can write + vague concepts work best for that

anyway i tried to do it justice for u. it's more barty character study than bartylus sorry but. also it's compeltely unedited!! do with that what you will xoxo

“I knew it,” Regulus murmured, a hand coming up to cover his eyes. He was slumped down in his seat, the lines of his face stark in the pale moonlight. The motorway stretched out empty and endless before them. 

Barty clenched his jaw and turned the key in the ignition once more. The engine sputtered loudly, just enough to give him some small shred of hope, before it promptly died for the fifth time. 

“Dammit,” he hissed, thumping his hand against the steering wheel. He turned to Regulus, “What?”

Regulus lowered his hand and glared fiercely. “I knew I was going to die in this metal box the moment you persuaded me to get in.”

“And yet, you still let me persuade you.”

“Barty.”

“What?” Barty grinned. “You’re not going to die, Regulus. Cars are only dangerous when they’re moving.”

Regulus scoffed. He looked about five minutes away from having a conniption—which meant that Barty had about three minutes of continuing to fuck with him before he got properly angry. His hands were clenched in the fabric of his trousers, and when he turned his face towards the window, Barty could glimpse the deep shadows under his eyes as they appeared under the light. 

He felt his heart soften, just a tad. 

“I have a plan,” Barty said.

Regulus rolled his eyes so far back that they disappeared into his skull: “Oh, joy. Another plan.”

“They’ve gotten us this far, haven’t they?” 

“Yes, stranded on the side of the road with you,” muttered Regulus. “Exactly where I want all my plans to lead me.”

At that, Barty felt a strange, wild sort of affection swell up within him. He wanted to lean over and bite the nape of Regulus’s neck hard enough to draw blood, wanted to crowd him against the door until all that bluster and exasperation fell away. But there would be time for that.

“Don’t you want to hear my plan?”

“No,” Regulus said sullenly. “I want—”

He stopped. Barty’s grin abruptly fell away. He reached over and cradled the back of Regulus’s head, firmly enough that he had no choice but to face him. Regulus kept his eyes downcast, an unhappy twist to his mouth, a sickly tinge to his face that the low light couldn’t hide. 

“Hey,” Barty said, and he curled his hand into a fist in Regulus’s hair. “Look at me.”

Regulus’s gaze flickered up.

He was a living bruise, a walking heartache. Two weeks ago, Barty had looked at him as they packed their things for the end of term, and he’d known that Regulus wouldn’t survive another summer in that house—not as himself, anyway. He knew it the way Sirius must have, before he left, and he understood. Better than he’d like to admit. Sometimes it was easier to pack your bags than to watch someone like Regulus tread water and insist that they weren’t moments away from sinking. 

In that respect, though, Barty was different. He didn’t care what Regulus wanted. He wasn’t going to leave him to drown. 

Besides. Barty was fed up, himself.

When he spoke, his voice was low and steady, and Regulus listened with wide, unblinking eyes: “We’re not going home. Do you understand? There’s nothing back there. Nothing. Forget it, Regulus.”

A beat of silence. Barty’s grip loosened, he made to pull back, and then—

“What about your mother?” Regulus asked with a horrible little glint in his gaze. 

“What about her?” Barty replied without missing a beat.

Regulus blinked. Barty almost laughed at him. Could have, at the idea that Regulus thought he’d trapped him with that. His mother, who’d wanted Berty out of that house perhaps even more than he himself did. Regulus could never understand that.

What he could understand, though, was the terrifying, exhilarating sensation of freedom. Of the surprising vastness of your own mind when it was vacant of everyone but yourself. Of sitting in a car stranded on the side of the road and becoming aware of your own mortality. Death was suddenly an end to something real and full of potential. 

After what felt like an eternity, Regulus asked, “What’s your plan?”

“I turn seventeen in five hours,” Barty said. “Once midnight hits, the Trace will disappear. I’ll fix the car then.”

“You don’t know how to fix it.”

“At least I know it’s called a car and not a ‘metal box.’”

“You want us to spend five hours in this thing?” Regulus said, as though catching up with his own disbelief.

“Technically, seven hours,” said Barty. “We still have to make it to Bath. And then, once we pick up the twins…”

“What?”

“I don’t know,” Barty shrugged—a loose, slouching thing. He noticed Regulus’s eyes track the motion with nothing short of predatory glee. “Orgy in the metal box?”

“I hate you.”

“You love me,” Barry cajoled, grinning from ear to ear. “Why else would you run away with me?”

There was a long moment of silence, in which Regulus gazed, baleful and petulant, out at the road in front of them and Barty gazed at him. Already, he was more animated, more tetchy, more acerbic than he’d been just days ago. The cobwebs slowly clearing from his eyes.

Sometimes, Barty recognized Regulus like the slant of himself in a shard of glass. But other times, Regulus was just very beautiful. Barty wondered if there an element of vanity in wanting him, to the prideful joy he got out of fucking him out of his own head. The idea that he could press Regulus down hard enough to mold him back into himself. 

On very rare occasions, he wondered if he was like his father. If the only love he knew was what he learned from the voice in his head as it puppeted his limbs about. If that presence was more himself than he was. A normal person would look at it with revulsion, would see complete and total control as a firsthand abomination.

But it was because Barty knew the abomination firsthand that he knew also the complete, total, clean satisfaction of such control.

“You were hardly the first to ask,” Regulus said mildly.

Even in the darkness, Barty could see the flush travel down his neck. He grinned and, without another word, reached over and unhooked Regulus’s seatbelt.

“I didn’t ask,” he replied, just as mild.

[coldercreation]

latty being subby has me thinking of dom!isac in general and i wonder if he's ever dommed kit 🤔 ik their dynamic is more isac being bratty usually but i feel like kit being taken care of and also made to work for it could be hm. very interesting if you do have any thoughts on that skdhsk

(love your work btw i am hyped for the wip!)

I have TOO MANY thoughts actually ghghhh! This is something I've legit puzzled over before, it's a bit of a complex one so I haven't been sure how to include or test that sort of dynamic from them in any of the works.

Like, Isac the person could absolutely dom Kit the person, especially when Kit's in his mushy soft boy moods. However... I don't know if it'd work for them like that because of the instinctual side? I can't really see Kit's A letting go in that way, being the head of the pack and so in control and all that.

The most control Izzy has over Kit's A is probably during Kit's ruts (and maybe during Nathan's heats... hmmm...), but even then it's like... Kit's instincts knowing that if he pushes too much and fucks it up, then he risks Isac getting fed up and kicking him out? (Yes the instincts can kinda be manipulative lil dicks to get what they want lol)

On a regular day, all I can imagine is that Kit's instincts would just see it as a game; probably would let Izzy 'try' being the one in control (making Kit wait, not touch, tie him up, whatever Iz wants) but it'd just be more indulgent from Kit's A than anything? Isac could try his best to get a rise out of Kit's instincts, but I just see it turning around on Isac and make him the one who's frustrated instead. I feel like Kit's A would just wait Isac out, let him tire himself, and then just finish Izzy off once Iz's worked up O folds :')

Maybe if Kit's A is having an extra chill and lazy-tired day, they'd get pretty close to a place where Isac can feel like he had the upper hand through and through (even though they'd both still know that Kit's A just let him play).

But! Even if they didn't have that kind of instinct deep dom/sub dynamic, Kit absolutely still is Isac's baby and he gets babied and taken care of just as much as the others. Like, Isac will complain about forced cuddles from the As and Lit being too mushy, but he does love all the attention and gives it back in his own ways. (He'd probably get mad if they suddenly stopped pawing at him or trying to force him into daytime cuddles. He'd 100% demand to have all that back, just to then say no again when offered.) Also, Isac knows how soft and sensitive Kit the person can be, so even though he loves bullying and aggravating Kit and his A, he also knows when the softer touch is needed. Lad's a demon but he's a very emotionally intelligent demon. He also loves Kit to bits so, there's that too.

Like I said, it's a complex one. There's many possibilities with their dynamic, but it's not as clear-cut as with the others so I haven't gotten around writing anything for this yet.

The instincts stuff is always very clear in my head in the way it works for them, but I don't know how well I've managed to translate it into text, here or in the series, so I hope this all made sense?? :')

Do you guys have thoughts on this? Likeee d'you get what I mean with it not feeling as simple with Kizzy? I'd love to hear if you think there's a different way of looking at their dynamic that could work for this though! xx

[ghostwise]

“kisses where one person is sitting in the other’s lap” for whoever you’re thinking of :)

Lirio has dreams of flying.

Free as a bird, weightless and floating. Lirio has dreams of diving through briny water, and somehow never needing to take a breath. In his dreams, he seeks out red coral, which is lucky, and oysters, which are expensive. He shucks them and finds pearls inside.

"How do you feel when you wake up from those dreams?" Harding asks him.

He thinks about it for a moment, then sighs as he rests his arms on his knees. "Like I've lost something."

"That… sounds so sad." Harding blinks at him. "Even your nice dreams leave you feeling wistful. I'm starting to suspect there isn't a truly pleasant dream at all."

Lirio laughs and shakes his head.

They are in her quarters. True to his word, Lirio has taken to sleeping a chaste distance from her bedroll, ready to wake her with a gentle word when her dreams get restless. Though currently, she's splayed out upon pillows under her tent. He's sitting by the pond, feet in the water, watching little fade frogs swim beneath the surface.

"I do feel sad, for a moment, waking up from a good dream," he says. "Sometimes I wish I could hang onto the feeling from the dream… but my point is, there's good dreams and bad. We just need to figure out how balance yours out. Minimize your nightmares so you can have nice dreams, too."

"I'd settle for neutral," Harding sighs. "Neve says she rarely remembers her dreams. But I can't seem to shake mine. They stick to me the entire day."

"Well, it's all new to you," Lirio says. "And you've had your share of worries even while awake. Have patience, Lace Harding. It will get better. I'll be here until they do."

"Only until then?" she asks, sitting up with a smile, and he laughs.

"You will still need me close by then," he says, "to make sure the nightmares don't return."

She smiles and blushes at that. And he's right.

That night Lace dreams that she's back at Skyhold, in the temporary quarters she would lodge in when not traveling for the Inquisition.

The air is cold, even with a fire in the hearth. That part is the same. What isn't the same is that somehow Lirio is there, too.

In the dream they are both as they currently are, and they know each other as they currently do, except she slides over the armrest of his chair to settle in his lap as naturally as if they were saying hello to each other.

His arms encircle her. Without hesitation, his hands slide over her back and come to rest at her hips, and they kiss, in this dream of impossible timelines.

With shocking detail, the dream paints for her the heat of his breath, the rough texture of the scars which frame his lips, the rasp of his voice saying her name against her mouth. All things she's never experienced, so how could the dream know to replicate them?

And there is something hazy about the dream, like a gesture drawing depicting only loose shapes and motions--possibilities of what they could do to each other. A touch at her waist, fingers ghosting up her spine. Buckles unclasping under sure and steady fingers. Desire, and not a hint of restraint.

She wakes with a start.

The Fade has no semblance of time, but her quarters are dark and bathed in cool and silvery light, as if moonlight were shining through the high alcove windows. A few feet away, sleeping on the chair beside the pool, Lirio snores quietly.

"Holy shit," Harding whispers, her mind reeling. Better than a nightmare, to be sure. However, this is something she will most definitely need to address in the morning.

The following day, Lirio finds her in the library.

"Doing some light reading?" he asks.

"Research," Lace says, finding it hard to look him in the eye today. "Reading about different types of dreams." She clears her throat and buries her face in the pages.

"Smart idea," Lirio observes. "And perfect timing, given the topic. I brought you something."

Lace looks up at him. He's stepped closer to her, holding something out in his hand. It is a necklace, with a small red charm dangling at the end. She takes it, cautiously, already blushing.

"It's called a cornicello," he says. "It's carved from red coral. It protects against bad luck."

"It's really pretty, Lirio," Lace manages, heart racing for no discernible reason. "For my bad dreams?"

"Figured anything was worth a try. Plus," he says with a grin, "it's the same color red as your hair. Made me think of you."

"You're sweet!" Lace covers her smile with her hand. "Thank you!"

He beams at her, and something tells her she will have more dreams to contend with.

[nerdylizj]

“Some choices aren’t ours to make,” Katara whispers so quietly that he isn’t sure if she’s speaking to herself or to him. “Sometimes fate chooses for you.” Or, Katara and Zuko dream of what could have been.

Prologue: green-

[sharkaroni]

Chapter 10 of The Plum Calendar is up!

In this chapter, Reigen and Serizawa finally have a talk. In the end, they’re wet, cold, covered in mud, one of them’s bleeding and they’re both halfway deaf. But to find out how that happened, you’re just gonna have to read the very final chapter of The Plum Calendar.

” Like I said, aside from the constant overhanging threat of being eaten, it was one of my better vacations to date.” The fact being, it was one of exactly two vacations Reigen had taken in his entire adult life, and the other one had been pretty severely dampened by a very predictable bout of salmonella. ”Besides, you, uh, definitely did your part,” he said, looking the other way. ”You’re a pretty smooth talker, when you wanna be. And you’re not a bad kisser, either.” Reigen didn’t have time to reflect on what a stupid, idiotic thing that had been to say, because he, along with all the woodsy debris on the ground, was being launched a good few meters up into the air by some unseen psychic force.

The Plum Calendar has been a fic about pretending to be engaged to the secret love of your life so a 200-year old ghost won’t marry him and keep him in the ghost dimension forever. But it has also been about not being good enough, about the concept of deserving, about what it means to be a liar, and whether or not that sort of thing is innate.

For those of you who have been reading along, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you. I can write 30 000 words of someone else’s sappy feelings, but I can never express how much I’ve loved having you read my story. And for the rest of you,  maybe check it out? I don’t know, you might like it.

[hello-eeveev]

📓! (If youre still doing em :3)

Put "📓" or some other version of a book emoji into my inbox and I'll explain the plot of a fanfiction that I haven't written but daydream about.

I’ve had an idea for a post T-Dock Aeor fic that I think I’m actually going to incorporate into another fic, but the gist of it is “almost-kisses in Aeor”. I only have two (so far? idk if I need more than two), one from Caleb’s POV and one from Essek’s.

The Caleb one is your standard Aeor whump hurt/comfort fare: they get attacked by monsters, in the process Essek gets terribly injured, things look dicey there for a moment, and when Essek pulls through, Caleb is so relieved that he’s just like “I gotta kiss him” before his brain kicks in and reminds him that that’s not a thing they have done and to kiss Essek now would be a bad idea. It’s not really treading any new ground, but I’m curious to see what my brain will do with it :)

The Essek one is as they are leaving Aeor. As they have been approaching the end of their trip, Essek has been thinking about how goodbye kisses are a thing and how if there were ever a time for him and Caleb to kiss, the end of this trip that has brought them so much closer would be it, right? But when the time comes, the prospect of kissing Caleb—while something he would like to do—is completely overwhelming to him and not in a fun, excited way, so he kinda shuts down internally and fully chickens out. Makes no moves. Caleb senses this awkwardness and discomfort, so he doesn’t make any moves either (was he planning to? idk). so they just. say goodbye and leave.

I think these are both fun concepts that would be fine on their own, but yeah, I think I’m more interested in using them to inform Caleb and Essek’s headspace during the first kiss fic, so look forward to that ✌️

[ecstarry]

Plssss what is the view between villages plsssss tell me more *begging with my hands clasped together*

here's a snippet from this time travel AU were James ends up in the future is in need of Regulus and Sirius' help to get back to his time:

“Come in!” James answered after the first knock. 

“Hey, how was your day with Sirius? I heard you got a new phone.” Regulus was standing by the frame, he had never been in James’ room. He was always careful of not overstepping any boundries with him.

“I did! Do you want to register your number? Register... Is that how you say it?” 

Regulus melted as the man in front of him adjusted his glasses and looked at his phone. James examined his device carefully and touched every part of the screen until he finally clicked ‘add contact’ and handed the phone to Regulus. 

“Sure, I will register my number.” Regulus’ eyes soften as he watched James light up by his answer. He quickly typed his contact information and returned the phone. 

“What’s wrong?” Regulus asked when he saw James’ confused look. 

“Sirius added a picture next to the name, how do you do that?”

“Picture?” James hands him his phone again with Sirius’ contact showing. It had the dog emoji next to the name ‘Padfoot’. Regulus smiled and tried his hardest to conceal his chuckle. Adorable.

He sat next to James on the edge of the bed and extended his hand to ask for the phone back. James quickly obliged. 

“Here." Regulus opened the keyboard, switched to the emojis and allowed James to decide which one he wanted.

“There! I like this one.” James passed the phone back and Regulus’ felt butterflies when he looked at the screen. Next to his name was a star. Bright and pretty.

“Do you like it?”

“I do actually.” 

Suddenly he was very aware, that he was in James’ room, sitting on his bed and a sudden blush started creeping to his cheeks. 

“I better go,” he whispered. Trying to convince himself that leaving was better, that he shouldn’t allow himself moments like this with James. 

“Uh- yeah, it’s getting late.” James’ replied quietly, like a little kid who wasn’t ready to go to sleep but that knew better than to through a tantrum.

Regulus stood up hesitantly, he hated that he wanted James to ask him to stay longer. He walked towards the door and James called on him. 

“Wait! You haven’t registered my number. What if you need to call me?” 

Regulus smiled to himself and turned around to hand his phone. James slowly typed his number and handed it back. 

“You chose the picture.” Regulus simply nodded in response. 

Once in his room, he unlocked his phone and looked at James’ contact.

“This will do,” he whispered to himself as he added a sun next to James’ name.

[blushblushbear]

Fck it- let’s get some ANGST rolling

All the boys reacting to their S/O dying right in front of them, and they are partially responsible for it.

Doesn’t matter how; freak accident, prank/date gone wrong, ppl who have a personal vendetta against them and want revenge- I want to know how they react and how they move on from that moment onwards (if they do at all)

DO.YOUR.WORST!!!

(I’m new to this fandom btw. Hi!! 👋🏼 I rly like your writing :)

AHHHH THANK YOU! I try weirdly hard to do a decent job

but yeah okay *cracks knuckles* let's get into it B)

SHIT'S UNDER THE CUT CAUSE IT'S A LOT AND IT'S DEPRESSING

tw: character death, death in general, violence, gun violence, depression, grief, guilt, heartbreak

Nimh

So I think Nimh's is a freak accident

I think you two are just walking along the side walk together and it's nice and normal and peaceful

and then a car swerves off the road and right towards you two

let's sad for added against you pushed him out of the way on instinct

I think his vision is actually blurred at first when he looks up from his spot in a bush

he does have a heart condition so that amount of shock is gonna make him legitimately dizzy

he almost dies right there when he looks over and sees you unconscious on the ground surrounded by blood

he is full on having a panic attack and can't breath and honestly everything is a dizzy blur for the next few hours

he falls over again just running over to you and is lost to the world as the rest of the scene unfolds around him

he's full on not seeing or hearing anything as he holds you bleeding in his arms

he doesn't even notice how badly he's hyperventilating

you actually don't die right there on the spot

you're put in an ambulance and rushed to the er and then to the icu and Nimh is in the hospital with you

They're also taking care of him as well since he is actually pretty banged up and is clearly having a serve panic attack and might legit pass out if not tended to

when you finally get to the hospital and start to wheel you away to the icu as other er staff are looking over him as a patient he pretty much starts loosing his shit

he wants to go with you but they need to make sure he's okay too

he's sobbing as they take his vitals

you last a few days and he never leaves your side

his parents come by to bring him food and clean clothes and a blanket but he's not leaving you once he's found you again in the icu

it's terrifying to him how still and hurt you look

he talks to you while you're out

honestly for all 3 of those days, he still had hope

no matter what the doctors said

but when he woke up on the morning of the 4th day to the sound of your flat line he watched all his hopes and dreams crumble in front of him

his happy future he saw for himself died with you

he's honestly a depressive mess and his body has not taken to the stress well at all (heart condition and panic attacks)

it's made even worse by the fact that he keeps having dreams about you

that always turn into nightmares where he relives holding you lifeless and bleeding in his arms

I'm going to be honest

I think due to the mix of the stress this puts on his already frail body

and the fact that he's sort of lost his will to live

he actually only lasts a few months after the accident

he was already lucky enough to make it this fair into his life, lucky enough to find the strength to always keep trying and make his body better, lucky enough to find you

but I guess his luck ran out

for what it's worth, I do think he goes peacefully in his sleep

dreaming about you

but a good dream this time

it's just tragic all around

poor Nimh

Volks

Volks' is another nice day turned tragic

You guys had gone out hiking, and he had helped you climb a tree because he really wanted to show you the view

it was taller than you had ever climbed but he promised that he wouldn't let anything happen to you

and as you too are looking at the view--- well, YOU are looking at the view, Volks is looking at you pretty much the whole time (like he always does)

but for a brief moment he took his eyes off you to also look at the view with you

and in that moment a strong wind shook the branch and made you loose your balance

your security tie failed and you went tumbling

that split second moment went by like an hour to Volks

the sudden realization that you weren't there

then looking down and seeing you falling

it took all of his will power to not instinctively jump after you

but when he saw you hit the ground he never scrambled down a tree so quickly

every part of him was shaking and his heart was pounding in his ears

he came up to you and you were still alive, but badly hurt

he gently cradled you in his arms and noticed you had blood coming out of your head

he pulled you onto his back panicking

calling 911 with his shaking hand

he met them on the side of the road and rode with you in the back of the ambulance

the whole time he was just staring wide eyed and pale at you

you were alive and moving but you were so out of it

the ems said you had definitely hit your head on something on the fall (probably a rock) and that you had several broken bones

you got none of that

Volks heard every word of it loud and clear like the worst was being confirmed for him

and he was responding to none of it

just staring at you

when you got to the hospital, his mom was already rushing out to meet the paramedics

you had met her a few times, she really liked you a lot, and especially liked how happy you made her son

she was taking charge since you were already like family to her

when they wheeled you back she told Volks to follow

your vitals were starting to tank and you've lost too much blood

the er room was a panicked frenzy that you were too out of it to comprehend

and the whole time Volks just kept staring at you

in your state, you were trying to make anything out

then you looked over at Volks

and when you looked at him there was this look of recognition and almost like relief

he stared back at your eyes, dull and distant but fully seeing him, the blood running down your forehead ruining the tenderness this look would've otherwise brought him

he didn't realize it yet, but he was tearing up

you reached out your hand to him weakly

he practically jumped forward, walking to you and taking your hand

your grip was weak and there was dirt and blood on your palms

you squeezed his hand as best you could manage

and you smiled at him

gazing lovingly into his eyes

and as he gazed back into yours

he watched as your bright eyes went dark

and then unfocused

he heard the single note of you leaving

and felt a panic he'd never known before as your hand slipped from his

his vision blurred as he just stood there shaking in disbelief

he couldn't find any words or form any thoughts as tears streamed down his cheeks

in a distance he heard his mom's voice

he heard his name

she was saying something

she felt her hand numb on his back

but he couldn't take any of it in

he just stared at you

for maybe the last time

you were just here and now you were gone

he

his contact finally broke when his mom pulled him away into a hug

she was crying on his shoulder, and holding her baby boy so tight

Volks blinked and it all hit him at once

and he broke down in his mothers arms as they crumpled to the floor together and sobbed

months went by

and he barely left the house

he went back and forth between staring at the wall and looking back over pictures you took together and texts you had sent

then crying

then back to the wall

his mom checked in on him a lot

but he's barely there anymore

on one visit she brings him food and notices a rose in a vase with fresh water

it's one he brought home from your funeral

it's long dead but he keeps watering it

for the millionth time Volks' mom preaches the helpfulness of grief counseling and invites him to join her this week at the group meeting

he refuses and she goes back to unloading the food she brought him into his fridge

he's not eating much though

on her way out she kisses his forehead and tells him she loves him

she stops at the door

and looks back at the rose

then her son

'you know.... they would've wanted you to be happy... that's all they ever wanted...'

Volks is silent for a while

his mom sighs and gets ready to leave again

'hey mom....'

she turns

'...what time is the therapy group?'

Kelby

Ya know, weirdly enough, I think Kelby actually handles all this the healthiest of all the boys??

also before I give an actual death lemme just say it's really hard for me to think of something for Kelby that's not Final Destination levels of insane lol

but no, okay okay

ahem

I think with Kelby it's just a regular ol' run of the mill daily tragedy

You're driving together, he's at the wheel, you guys are probably headed to a nice day at the beach

or back from a nice day at the beach

it's late but he's careful

but the sad truth is careful doesn't matter when other people drink and drive

your car is hit head on by someone going twice the speed limit, and your side of the car takes the main impact

I think unlike the previous two guys, you don't get a hospital goodbye

you are most likely dead on impact

and Kelby's not looking too hot either

I think he passes out in an ambulance and wakes up a few hours later to a few new injuries and the shocking news that you didn't make it

pretty sure everyone can hear his wails from down the hall

He's actually basically crying off an on for the next few years

he spends time with family

time with friends

looks at pictures

reads old texts

cries and cries and cries

he goes to therapy and goes through the moitons

but no matter what he can't fight this new hole he feels

the one where all his love for you went

I think he actually becomes an advocate for safe driving

and joins a lot of support groups

He actually helps a lot of people work through their pain

and that helps him work through his

the sad truth about this kind of thing is that it really is a mundane tragedy

that feels like an oxymoron but this sudden heartbreak happens everyday

but through the proper channels, Kelby has found ways to cope

though every now and then the loneliness does get him

how can it not

but if he can't spend the rest of his life with you

then he'll dedicate the rest of it in your memory

and help others do the same

also he keeps your picture by his bedside and talks to it frequently

telling you good morning and good night and such

He never stops missing you

Eli

I feel like with Eli, it really is something outlandish

Like he convinced you to go romantically dancing in the rain and you got struck by lightening

and to other people he laughs it off

'ain't life a bitch, at least they went out in a blaze of glory, they always were electrifying,' etc etc etc

but the truth of the matter is he's deeply and unbelievably upset about this

at his core, he's inconsolable

and he probably jokes about that too

'haha I'm dead inside actually! :)'

he has started seeing a therapist

he's got a lot to unpack

also I know there's not super explicit alcohol mentions in the game

but we know Eli is a party boy

and he's def developed a drinking problem over this

he doesn't know how to handle his feelings so he stays out all night partying like he would do with you

tearing shit up and drinking his feelings away

all so he can stumble home alone and pass out immediately so he doesn't have to contemplate how utterly empty and pointless his big fancy apartment feels

or how empty and pointless he feels

he's also dabbled in some drugs but he's trying to be real careful about that since he doesn't wanna wake up in an alley way (at least not cause of drugs-- he might a few times over booze though)

I think there was a time Eli had a lot of self hatred growing up followed by full self acceptance and self celebration

but he doesn't feel like celebration himself right now

he's pretty sure you'd be disguised with what he's become in your absence

hence the going to therapy

he hasn't found the right therapist just yet but he's going to keep trying

he liked the good things about himself, he liked the good things about you, and all the good things you saw in him, even the stuff he didn't always see as good himself

he wants to like himself again

the way he did when he had you loving him

he truly felt the happiest with you around

but now

he lives in the club

and drinks till dawn

he wakes up in a haze

feeling sick as shit

slowly gets himself together-ish

and ends up wondering what his life has become without you

has a coffee

and a headache

reads some poetry or listens to a song that reminds him of you

ulgy cries for a bit until his headache is worse

calms down enough to eat (well, less calm and more too burnt out)

rinse, repeat.

He doesn't plan to do this forever

he doesn't want to do this forever

someday he's gonna find a way to be happy again without you

though nothing will ever compare to the great love of his life that surprised him out of nowhere

Anon

okay here me out this might be a little too real BUT

bitch I think he got swatted

he messed around with the wrong dude and he got swatted

it got messy

you were there when it happened

he is pressing SO MANY CHARGES

he is a wreck

there's a movement online to try and help and support him through this trying time but honestly

he sees very little of it

he's sort of logged off for a while

actually a long while

he moved houses cause he was just too scared and traumatized

he couldn't stay in the house he watched you get shot in

he's going to so much therapy but it's not helping much

well, it is actually

just not in ways he's seeing or feeling

normally he'd get his revenge asap but like

that sort of thing is what got him into this mess

he is still taking all the legal action he can though

got the best lawyers on his side

SOMEONE is going to jail hell or high water

but it doesn't help fill the hole

he spends a lot of time lying in silence

or going outside

or staring at a blank screen that isn't turned on

he's actually not sure he'll ever get out of this whole

he looks at his phone from time to time but only to look at pictures of you

it's not connected to the internet or anything

eventually he finally feels up to trying to be online for an afternoon

maybe check his socials a bit and play a game

that's when he finally sees the out pour of condolences people have left for him

it actually makes him feel better

you know that bit in that lil nas song 'strangers make you feel so loved, ya know?'

that's him right now

he will never get over this

not even a little bit

and I think he's done using his powers to fuck around

I think eventually he will get to something resembling his old self but

you're still his desktop background

and he's never not going to feel that void you left

or the crushing guilt that flows

Garret

oh man

what to do with Garret

GEEZ uhhhh

I think with Garret, he just wakes up one morning with you in his arms and you're pale and unmoving

I think for him we're gonna say brain aneurysm

you just had one in your sleep overnight and there was nothing anyone could do

he was a panicking sobbing mess the whole time he waited for emergency services with you in his arms

and he wasn't much better while riding in the ambulance with you (he refused to leave your side)

you were barely breathing the whole ride and stopped breathing before you even made it to the hospital

despite the fact that literally none of this was his fault and absolutely there was nothing anyone could do he still blames himself

you died in his arms

he should've been able to do something

I think after a few years of group therapy he finally manages to get back to something like his old self

but he still breaks down in a sobbing wreck every now and then over this all

and he misses you every day

I think he constantly goes back and forth on whether to get rid of the bed you two shared on the night you died

on the one hand you died in that bed (sort of)

but on the other that's the last place you were together

either way he still hasn't gotten rid of it

and he has a locket with your picture in it that he never takes off

Dmitri

I'm running out of way for you to die guys

I think let's go with you were visiting him at the coffee shop and one of the espresso machines exploded, injuring 3 and killing 1 (that's you) (.....shut up I'm trying)

a coffee bean was launched right into your heart

so tragic

he like all the others go into a depressive state but he does very melo-drama about it

lots of tears and wilted roses and sobbing while draped across a sofa holding a framed photo of you

love poems, robe, tissues, ice cream, empty bottles of wine

his sister comes to visit him every day but it doesn't help

I honestly think he never lets this go

he wears this sorrow on his sleeve like a memorium to you

he vows he will never love again and he keeps it

there's a lot of talking to his main framed picture of you (he has a lot) and telling you about his day or his family or how much he misses you

that last bit usually comes up

he's definitely drinking more wine than before

he's not full Eli binging but he definitely gets it down

If he had a ring he was going to propose with (and he probably did let's be real), he wears it now around his neck

a reminder of the happy ending with you he will never get to see

Ichiban

I think this one actually is a prank gone wrong

or at least a video gone wrong

he actually quits his channel for a while out of guilt

he just can't stand running it

he eventually comes back for the fans but it takes like a full year before they hear from him

he spends a lot of time being depressed in the dark

playing games and sometimes talking to himself like he's talking to you

he has a really great therapist that helps him a lot with the guilt and grief

when he does eventually come back, he has a much greater boundary between his online life and his personal life

he also doesn't do stunts/pranks EVER

he actually only updates here and there cause he's putting his focus into more artist projects

the first one is an exploration of grief and how it can change a person

he's got a lot of guests from all over the internet who are here to share their stories of loss that were going on behind the camera

it's very soul bearing all around and it actually is seen as an over all good

it made a lot of people feel seen and less alone

including him

nothing will ever replace you

but he's using his fame now to let people know they aren't alone, so hopefully that's something

William

I think with William you were at the clinic visiting him and something venomous bit you

most likely a snake

you were rushed to the hospital and given anti-venom, but it was too late, the damage was already done

I think he is actually the most functional of all the dudes after the fact

like he's very much Not Okay, but he's trying his best to get through his day

the moment he gets home though he enters into the most mournful slump

he puts a record on and drinks a glass of wine and stares at your picture and just

mourns

he finds himself missing you throughout his day but the second he gets home it's a little all consuming

he's honestly kind of resigned to spending the rest of his life alone mourning you

maybe in a few years from now, he'll try for love again

but he already knows it's not going to be the same

he's always going to feel the weight of your loss on his heart

Myx

I think with Myx it's probably a very sudden yet terminal diease

he puts everything on pause to be with you for as long as he can

he gets about a few months (it's still not enough)

after another few months away from everything spent mourning he finally returns to the stage

he has basically a whole new albums worth of songs

each one of them was him working through his loss and pain

you know those albums you listen to from an artist, and you're just like 'who hurt you???'

yeah, this one is his

except the answer is life

or more specifically death

the amount of times he cries on stage performing some of these songs is unsurprising

a lot of fans send him letters of encouragement and condolences

and flowers

so many flowers

your funeral was actually a sea of flowers

some from friends and family

some from Myx's fans

but honestly mostly from Myx

his next album isn't quite so consumed with grief but honestly-- the subject always comes back up

there's also a few songs for you in there that are really sweet

it's not all tears and heartache

a few happy memories immortalized in song

though a lot of fans and critics consider the ones he wrote during that first year without you some of his most compelling and heartfelt bits of work

and it only cost him everything...

Stirling

Let us pretend my previous post about the reader gaining immortality does not exist

Stirling loses you to time

like so many things before you

and many things after

your loss stings the most though

he stayed with you until the end of your life

loving you every moment he could find

and even making some himself

but he's learned the hard way that all good things must come to an end

and frankly you were the best thing, so your end left the biggest shadow

he misses you every moment of his eternity

so many paintings and portraits of you throughout your years hang in his walls

but none of them ever did do you justice

he's found ways, like this, to surround himself with some version of your presence

though it never fully chases away the loneliness

he embraces the end gracefully

though every so often, when the night is clear and the stars are bright

he can't help but look into the heavens

think of you

and weep

Scale

Scale lost you to an enemy assassin

He doesn't know if they were going for him and just missed

or if they meant to target you just to get at him

but either way he watched in horror as a dart flew into your neck, and you fell to the ground motionless

He never stops blaming himself

He knew he was no good for you and he stuck around anyways

and look where that got you

he spends months hunting down and killing the assassin that did you in

but even bringing justice to your end doesn't make him feel any better

okay, maybe it helps a little, but it's still not enough

he sort of slinks into solitude for several years following your death

he also takes a vow of silence (for some reason--- he won't say why)

he frequently visits your grave and mourns you

he also reads over your old text convos

and he cries

a lot

he kind of lost his heart on that day

and it's truly doubtful he'll ever get it back

not with you gone

Sven

I think this one is another car

I know it's very sudden at the least

he doesn't really know how to process it at all

he's actually in quite the downward spiral for the next few months

going back and forth between trying to remain positive and being a sobbing wreck

bruh, I think your loss kinda broke him

he's seeing like 3 different therapists

they're helping a little

he still sobs uncontrollably at least once a day

honestly, I don't think he ever truly gets back to his old self

he just can't anymore

Cole

heheheheh *CRACKS KNUCKLES*

He's not sure how it happened

all he knows is that he came to on the floor next to you

He was holding you

and there was a lot of blood

you were already cold, your warmth long gone

and his head was spinning

everything was a fog

what had he...

he remembers feeling jealous

and helpless

and angry

he sort of blacked out in a spiral

there's vague flashes

you pinned behind him as

no.

no no no no no no no.

he couldn't have.

he wouldn't have.

h-he didn't mean to.

you can't be.

he staring down at your still body, limp and lifeless in his arms.

all the pieces are coming back together.

it's all coming back to him.

he let's out a nervous laugh as he shakes you gently and says your name.

It all had to be a bad dream.

That was all a dream.

He could never have...

please wake up...

he's so sorry...

please wake up...

...just be a bad dream...

Poe

I think for Mr. Poet we're gonna have to go Byronic on his ass

that's right, it's Consumption baby! Aka tuberculosis!

basically meaning you get real sick

and he's with you every step of the way

staying by your side as your body gives out

documenting ever turn with a new bit of writing or poem

he's never been so prolific

nor so heartbroken

he doesn't share any of the poems about you

He actually might pull a Dickinson and never share them

only to have them found and published after his death

he doesn't know how many pages he filled sitting by your bed side as you slept

he keeps a book of pressed flowers from throughout your decline

flowers he brought you, or ones given by the hospital or friends, a few flowers from your funeral

He probably spends the rest of his life even more listless than before

definitely more heart broken

he moves on in his writing (at least for the stuff he shares publicly)

but he never moves on in his heart

Cashew

I'm unsure how this one happens, but the follow up is the same

I think after a month or so, he tries to go back to his usual life

tries to get up, go to classes, go about his life

but he can't really care anymore

he's just going through the motions

he reads a lot of books where there's a character death to cope

also a lot of romance

and a lot of crying

he's kind of a shut in off and on for about a year

he slowly but surely bounces back

learns to be happy again

be he always knows he would be happier with you

there's a lot of pictures of you and him still floating around

he likes to try and remember you always

even if it hurts, seeing your face still makes him feel a little better

he's also def a member of the talks to your picture a lot squad

one of your pictures is his good luck charm

he got it laminated and uses it as a book mark so you can still kinda 'read with him'

Seth

OH BOY

he thought he wasn't going to care much since he deals with souls all the time

but he truly forgot what this was and now he's pissed

cocky fucker legit forgot that he lives in hell

and that's not where you end up

he doesn't really mourn like the rest of them cause you're not really gone

but he does still miss you

and is trying to tug at every string he can to try and either get himself up there or you down here

it's his new main goal, but it's gonna be a tough one

he keeps trying to trade your soul for others but the folks upstairs ain't buying it

this honestly feels like more of a set up for a rom com manga than anything else lol what is this even doing here IT'S NOT SAD ENOUGH

Logan

oh okay his can get very sad

I think his is going to be learning the hard way that you can't save everyone

and that no matter how hard to plan for something, things can still go wrong

(maybe he should be spider-man...)

but yeah, he was definitely one of the emergency services that responds to yours

he heard your address and got there so fast

but it wasn't fast enough

this loss legit takes him the majority of his life to get over

he was honestly planning to spend the rest of his life with you and that future went up in smoke

he goes to a lot of therapy, both group and one on one

and it helps

but not by much

he's definitely a different person after this all

a little less cheerful, a lot more serious

and hard to believe it but a little better at his job

he went from eye wide newbie with a hero complex to grizzled vet who knows how bad it can really get

and hey look another member of the pictures of you everywhere and he also talks to them squad

keeps a picture of you in the pocket of his fire jacket, near his chest

I mean, he already did that but now it hits different

also wears the ring he had gotten for you around his neck

(though not while working, fire fighters tend to not wear jewelry on the job cause metal hot)

lots of tears

lots of cuddle puddles with the rescue animals

occasionally names one after you

you were the love of his life

still are

Reece

Reece's is definitely a wacky space adventure gone wrong

he's shaken by the loss of you

I don't know how it happened but I know it was very sudden

spends a while in his ship just staring into the middle distance

he can't believe your gone

he spends a lot of time traveling around licking his wounds

also marshaling his forces to go face down whatever entity took you from this universe

tried to go back and save you but it always ends the same

after his last attempt he actually goes back in time to before you two even met and watches you from a distance

you look so happy, you have no idea what's about to happen to your life

he doesn't regret meeting you but he wonders often if things would've been better for YOU if he hadn't

flies solo for a few centuries

every now and then stops by and visits you in a time where you two still hadn't met

admittedly he's stalking you a bit but just in small bursts

it hurts a lot, but it also makes him feel better

try as he might, there's just some things he can never change

and the closer to home it hits, the more it hurts

Aki

WHOO BOY another immortal/semi-immortal character!

I think for all the fox boys we're going to just have you go of natural causes, no immortality for you

it's both hard for him to be sad about this and equally as impossible to not be devastated

on the one hand, you two had a beautiful life together

and having you in each others lives made them so full

but Aki's learning for the first time that part of being a kistune is seeing all good things end while you have to keep going

honestly I think all Kistune to some degree are like Aki, then Haru, then Fuyu as time goes on

like they all start to some degree young and wild and mischievous, then eventually calm a bit more and chill as they mature, and then being a live for so long matures them to such a level they're almost un-reacting cause they've seen it all

everyone's a little different but it's always roughly the same path

and this is Aki's first

you're Aki's first

his first everything

his first great love

his first great life mate

his first great loss

like all kistune before him, this is an aging mark

he's going to be a different person on the other side of this

he's still going to be Aki, just a different version of Aki

one that knows what it means to hurt on this level

he takes about a century to get over it--- well as over it as he's ever gonna get

he may one day have another mate or take another lover

but it will never be like how it was with you

I'm actually not sure if he ever pairs off with someone else for good (I'm honestly not sure any of them do)

and no matter how much time and experience changes him

or how many years pass

he still thinks back on his time with you often and gets all warm again

Haru

SO!

Natural causes, no immortality for you, you just get old and die

so they way I was talking with Aki and how all kistune probably have a similar life path as they age visa vee experiences and firsts

Haru actually is the way he is cause he was trying to AVOID that at all costs

he ran through life trying his damnest to not let anyone get too close cause he doesn't wanna deal

ESPECIALLY humans

sad, pathetic, emotional, short lived little humans

but then you actually managed to break through

and he kind of like--- got it then

like he gets it now

he understands how a connection can be worth the risk of pain

though I will say he does start the relationship fully in denial about the inevitable

he doesn't want to talk about loss, he doesn't want to think of you dying, he doesn't want to have to figure out what a world without you would be like

I think the biggest slap to the face Haru has ever gotten is when he gave you one of his 'I'm gonna spend the rest of my life pleasing you' and you kinda gently threw out 'well.... the rest of MY life anyway...'

I think hearing it from you made him actually like--- hear it ya know???

he generally doesn't loose his cool much but he def looses it then

or anytime someone brings up that you're mortal

I think all of the kitsune do at some point try and find a way to make you immortal but with Haru it's low key a thing he never gave up on

he's not always actively searching, but he's searching on the down low

weirdly I think the person that helps him cope the most with your death is you

YOU knew what you were getting into

and you're not afraid to talk about it with him

especially cause he has a hard time staying mad at you so you can kinda say whatever

he takes a lot of solace in the fact that he made your life very happy

and he enjoys the fuck out of every moment you two have together

he tries so hard not to dwell on it

but once it actually comes and is in front of him

he has a hard time processing

he's not good at processing big feelings okay

I think he might become a drunk for a while

just a grumpy depressed drunk

he actually goes back and forth between a picture of you being the last thing he wants to see and the only thing he wants to see

he's another person whose going to come out different on the other side of the loss

I think he tried at one point to take another lover but he ended up getting upset, and kicked them out before anything could happen cause he just wanted you

and now he's alone and drunk and crying, look what you've done to him

ngl I think he becomes that like--- emotionally wounded, grizzled, often drunk samurai type (like Yasuo back at the star of his story)

he went from fuck boy to lover boy to grumpy older dude whose a little stand off-ish but honestly he's actually very sweet he just has a lot of pain to work through

also even though your face is sometimes the last thing he wants to see (partly cause he's ashamed at what a wreck he's become without you), he still keeps a picture of you near his heart

Fuyu

I'm so tempted to have your end be violent with Fuyu cause he's mr. war crimes but honestly

I think growing to trust again and learning the lesson that violence was never the answer is not only Fuyu's character arch, but low key all of the kistune boys character archs????

but yeah, so no, despite my temptations

natural causes, old age, no immortality for you

so Fuyu is no stranger to death or loss

and he has seen people he cared about die (fandom headcanons, one of them WAS Natsu and I am behind the idea that he didn't wanna do it)

but you just hit differently

he truly never met anyone like you

nor has he loved anyone as deeply

nor will he again for that matter

he tries his best to mourn your death with grace

but behind closed doors he's a sobbing wreck

I think the full time line of Fuyu at least for the parts that we see him are as follows

Angy, deep down Very Sad and Lonely, Uptight, RAWR -> Learns to chill and love and repent and be more open and is just generally still kinda stuffy and stiff but a lot more warm and happy -> still not the monster he once allowed himself to become, still a bit stuffy but also still chill, very solemn, very sad

so he didn't loose his gentleness that his time with you taught him

but he did get back his sad and lonely

He thinks about you everyday

and talks to your spirit in his moments alone

( not actually your--- you're not a ghost, making that clear--- more your memory)

you honestly made him a much better dude

and your company lead to him being able to open himself to more people

but none of them are you

and they never can be

he still writes you poetry

[sos-smp-headcanons]

This is more of a prompt than a hc but i still wanted to share.

fWhip was so tired, the fates have been to cruel to him. He's been trying to give advice on how the human body work on how to tale care of it. They ignored him

Now he was weak on someones arms and half awake. It felt nice, he feels a hand in his hair and hear voices alot of them. But that doesn't matter now. He wanted to sleep, just sleep.

Sausage wants to have a talk with the fates. Scott will kill the first one he sees. (To be clear Scott is the one holding fWhip and Sausage was the one petting his hair)

- Ghostie anon

All he could see was the ceiling now. There was a dull ache in the back of his skull that rang of the familiar pain that accompanied concussions. fWhip couldn’t tell how long it had been since there were people around him. They weren’t there as far as he could tell right now, but he could feel bandages around his knees and chest, and a damp towel rested on his forehead that plastered hair to his skin.

However, Sausage’s voice entered his vicinity not long after. His entrance was accompanied by a string of very colorful Spanish as he slammed a door closed.

“Sausage, easy. They’re gods, it’s not like we would’ve been able to fight them anyway.” Scott seemed much closer to where he was, a tinge of panic audible in his accent.

“That doesn’t mean they should just be able to do that to him with no problem!” Were they talking about him? Did they try to talk to the Fates?

“I know, I know. But that won’t do anything. The best we can do is help him right now.” There was a faint grumble in return before he heard footsteps approaching and he craned his neck as best as he could to look at the door.

Scott paused upon noticing him, “Oh good, you’re awaken finally..” He took a stance by the side of the bed, elevating his head with his thighs. “Any pain anywhere?” Sausage was hovering nearby, unsure if he should touch him or not before ultimately deciding on sitting next to the bed.

“I’m fine but, what were you two talking about? You didn’t antagonize The Fates, right..”

Both of them avoided his gaze.

Sausage was the first one to speak again. “They hurt you.”

“That doesn’t matter-“

“Yes it does!” Scott immediately interrupted. “They have the nerve to hurt you after you taught them how to properly take care of your body, and if someone doesn’t tell them off, they won’t stop. You’re too important to me.”

Sausage gave him a look and he added on, “To both of us. Everyone.”

fWhip’s eyes squeezed shut, blood rapidly rising to his face as he drew in a breath. “You..” He groaned, shifting himself onto his side and looking down at Sausage. “I appreciate it. Don’t do it again.”

The brunette just gave a slightly smug smile, “Got it!”

“Scott?”

“Sure.”

“Good..now both of you please just lay down I can’t hug you.”

(Read tags)

[gay-jewish-bucky]

am i having a stroke or did encyclopedia brittanica shift how it talks about ancient eretz yisrael and early judaism? it feels like major historical revisionism. not only is it revisionist to call a name it wouldn't go by for centuries, but it's more egregiously revisionist to further use the modern name instead of judea and samaria, the united kingdoms of ancient israel.

it know, it's probably an anti-intellectual cop-out to make it "more accessible to the uninformed", but it feels like it's another example of the wider trend we are seeing (in the wake of the conflict flaring up) to rewrite the history of the levant because people falsely believe reality would somehow negate the indigeneity of levantine arab groups who faced forced assimilation and conversion at the hands of multiple empires.

[littencloud9]

"my knees have gone a bit weak. Do you mind carrying me?" + Kunichuu

and/or

"fine I'll do it for you. Just for you" + kunizai

the people yearnnn for kunichuu and carrying. it's me. i'm people

Kunikida's had too much to drink. Chuuya knows because he's clinging onto him, arms hooked around each other and head leaning on his shoulder. Kunikida isn't shy about physical affection, but he doesn't do much of it in public out of common decency and respect for Chuuya's space. So the fact that he's blatantly trying to merge their bodies into one is a huge sign. Chuuya didn't drink because he's driving them back tonight. He's not sure how or when Kunikida reached this level, but he's certainly not complaining. He's quite enjoying the attention, actually. "We should go home," Kunikida slurs into his neck and Chuuya shivers. "You up for it, pretty?" "Mhm. I wanna—" Kunikida tucks a finger under Chuuya's choker, pulling slightly— "take this off you." Oh shit. He's really drunk. Chuuya's next laugh comes out shaky as he stands up, coaxing Kunikida out of the bar. They make it out and Chuuya takes a deep breath of fresh air when Kunikida suddenly trips. Chuuya hurriedly stabilises him but it's too late. They both go tumbling onto the floor. "Sorry," Kunikida giggles. Fucking hell. "My knees have gone a bit weak. Do you mind carrying me?" With the way Kunikida is looking at him, Chuuya thinks he'll do anything. He nods wordlessly and picks his boyfriend up, walking them the rest of the way to the car.

kunizai... leaps into the sun and dies

"Fine," Dazai grumbles. They remain sprawled out on their futon and Kunikida leans over them with his arms crossed. "I'll do it for you. Just for you." Kunikida breathes a sigh of relief. "Thank you." It isn't that serious. Kunikida just needed someone to go with on this mission. It's only odd that he specifically reached out for Dazai and refused to go with anybody else. Kenji, Yosano, and Jun'ichirou are all available. Dazai isn't sure why Kunikida had to barge into their dorm and request for their company. Still, Kunikida had pulled the damn 'we're partners' card, and so Dazai has to drag their feet to the bathroom to change into their work clothes so they can go on this mission together. It's whatever. They don't want to think too much about it. "I'll wait in my car downstairs," Kunikida says. His lips quirk up and Dazai's eyes follow the movement. "You get fifteen minutes before I leave your lazy ass for the better." "You wouldn't," Dazai gasps. They both know their words ring true.

[tossball-stick]

personal kieran headcanons 😋

tagging: @aintan0driscollnomore

hiii im here to ramble about my kieran hcs. these r all my personal ones. i hope u enjoy :3

i am not gonna he/him this guy for the whole post so first things first to get it out of the way: i think shes trans!! yeah i think shes a trans woman who just hasnt realized yet. a long life of hardship has left her in a perpetual state of "im probably actually a woman but im going through life ruining trauma so i cant deal with that rn"

therefore....... i think her spending more time with the women is to be one of the girls. its the closest shes gotten, im sure, im sure its probably the first time shes even properly been around women, socially, in years, even.

i like to think her and bill eventually start warming up to each other. a shared history in the army makes her sympathetic towards him, to a degree. i can imagine her listening to him pour his heart and soul out about dutch and feel a little bad for him. especially the closer she gets to the ladies, the more of a safe space she has away from bill, should she desire. it works out.

before the vdl gang very rudely starved her, she was actually a little thick around the middle. in aus where shes allowed to eat reguluarly for a good while, i think she needs to fill back out

i think shes flat out lying about how significant her role with the o'driscolls was. i think she was actually pretty notable in the gang, maybe even being close to colm. other posts have explained this much better than i could dream to.

i also think she doesnt exactly hate outlaw life!! people often forget thst her time in the army "didnt end well," and that after the army she joined another gang that later abandoned her. she seems to lean towards gang life, as well as horse management. interesting!

while she actively pursues mary-beth for the most part, i think she has crushes on most of the other ladies. i think she'd even admit grimshaw is mighty pretty for her age, and that she'd be fooled to find out grimshaw was as old as she was.

very inexperienced with dating. just has never really been around women much, as i ssid before.

i think she has a bitter crush on arthur. gets all huffy about finding him handsome. maybe has asked him for a dance while drunk once. i like to think he obliged her but realistically i doubt it

i think "fishing" is moreso just an excuse to look out at nature and enjoy it, as well as an excuse to ride around on branwen, though dont get me wrong, i still think its one of the few connections she has left with her father.

i think in an ideal world sean would be her outlet to have the childhood she never quite got. based on their campfire interactions, despite the violence, they seem to think not poorly of each other. irish immigrants 🤝

i think shes a bit more cruel and tricksy than people give her credit for, but i dont think shes a horrible person or anything. shes done bad bad things. she doesnt feel good about much of it i imagine. i think her phrasing of "the o'driscolls gave me a choice: ride with them or die" as more along the lines of how the vdl gang members view dutch as having saved their life yknow. kiersn only went to the o'driscolls for food and safety to survive, otherwise she might not have had any.

i think she would tbh respect pearson!! she isnt sick of his navy stories like the rest of the vdl gang is, and the navy is highly respected amongst the rest of the military. i think she would humor him a little. plus, he feeds her. a+ in kierans book.