#I NEED TO SEE THIS ONCE AGAIN IN MY LIFE!!

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

HELLOOO idk if ur requests are on rn so take ur time with this request and get to it at ur own time but i was wondering if u could make a short one shot fic abt reader who is in a relationship with katsuki and is at home while he's out in patrol and she sees his location with life 360 and sees that he's beside some sort of restaurant or supermarket so she texts him smth like

i see ur beside the ramen place i like can u buy dinner tonight 😊

AND THEN KATSUKI IS JUST 🤬🤬🤬 WTF HOW DO U KNOW WHERE I AM ARE U OUTSIDE RN

all lighthearted and funny :))

THANK UUU SO MUCHH 💞💞

LMFAOOOO thjs js so funny😭😭😭 tysm for this ask i hope i did it some justice :33 hope you’re still stickin around to read it anon ! Short lil drabble, much luv xx

“since you’re by that ramen place i like you can get some for dinner 💋💕”

“ ? what the fuck”

“?? where are you.”

“?”

before you can send another text message, your phone lights up with your boyfriend’s caller id, you giggle.

“hi, baby.”

“where the fuck are you at ?”

you snort, readjusting on your sofa “what are you talking about ?” you ask teasingly.

you catch the sound of people talking as you hear katsuki grumbling to himself “i don’t see you.”

you giggle, kicking your legs a little “and why would you need to see me ?”

katsuki groans, already exasperated and growing more and more impatient, you’re surprised he hasn’t started cursing your entire bloodline yet “quit it with that mysterious bullshit, how do you know where i’m at.”

and just to mess with him, you respond “i see you.”

it’s quiet on his end for a moment, aside from the chatter on the street “yn. i’ll fucking kill you.” you throw your head back and laugh “once i find you, you’re done for. your ass is grass.”

“i like it when you talk dirty to me.” you joke, he scoffs hard on the other end “freak.” you hear him mumble, you giggle some more.

“i’m at home, just saw your location and decided to ask you to get me some food.”

“get you some food.” he bites, scoffing in disbelief.

“us, get us some food. pretty please, suki ?” you use your sweetest voice, maybe he might even be able to imagine your puppy dog eyes through the phone.

he laughs sarcastically “right. what makes you think you deserve to get anything after that little stunt you pulled, huh ?”

you pout, whining so he knows you are “i was just kidding, was jus’ a little jokey-joke.” you can’t help but tease him a bit more.

“yeah, my ass.” you snort loudly, laughing and the huff he lets out clearly lets you know he’s not amused, you can see him rolling his eyes at your antics.

“we’ll see.” is the answer he graces you with. you squeal, cus you know that means you won. katsuki is quick to remind you he didn’t say yes, but you already know his mind’s been made.

“i’m surprised you didn’t ask me why i have your location on my phone.” you hum.

katsuki sounds utterly confused by your question when he responds “why would i give a shit about that ? s’not like i get somethin’ to hide. don’t care if you know where i’m at.” he responds simply.

“sides, i know how obsessed you are with me, so—”

“i’m hanging up now, katsuki. get me my ramen. toodles.” your bitter tone makes him laugh, and just to piss you off some more he adds in a honeyed sweet “see you later, babe. love ya.” before he hangs up. you huff shaking your head. a text pings and you swipe up to check it, it’s from katsuki again.

“i’m not getting you shit btw.”

he does indeed come back with ramen.

[beautifullilacsky]

It's been a while since I wrote about you. Not because I haven't missed you or didn't have good things to say; it's because it's been so, so incredibly good. There is too much for me to say. There have been too many moments that I'd like to write down for me to remember for a lifetime. We came back from our first vacation together, and gad, I have never been more sure about you.

By switching to the other side of the sidewalk so you were the one closer to the road, you made me feel safe. Wearing your 'emergency pants', in case you needed to move the van when the wind was too much for me (which, it was, and you moved the van without a wrinkle or hint of annoyance in your face), you made me feel cared for. Just like all the times you asked me if I was okay. You made me feel heard and made me feel like you truly wanted to understand and hear me, when you asked me how the vacay is going. What our further wishes are and if we want to change anything. You made me feel important and like a princess when you drove around half of the island, just to find a souvenir that I really wanted (even if you usually don't do souvenir hunts). Every single day, you made me feel so good. All of the full body cuddling at night, almost forming a blanket the way you folded yourself all around me. All of the caring during the day. All of the communicating and comfortable silences. The amount of planning you have done, making sure we arrive there and back home safely and that we can "haal het beste uit" our vacation. Knowing I am uncomfortable with manuals and especially a van, you drove all of the time; even if at times, it was stressful as shit. And, everything that came with living in a van; you emptied our water, refilled it, dusted the inside, checked the difficult-closing door, cooking, and did a lot of the dishes.

All the times I asked you to pose a certain way for a picture, you did exactly that. On hikes, you would ask me if the speed was okay, or, like you did most of the time, you'd let me in front. That way, I could go my own speed and you'd be sure that I felt comfi and good. The cute smiles when I said something to Beertje; how I adore and feel so so safe when you like seeing the child inside of me. Ha, the way you went back to souvenir stores with me as I regretting not buying something, while once again, not being annoyed at all. Also, how you paid for my toilet visit twice, knowing I don't carry around 50 cents. It's not expensive, but I know you'd never pay for a toilet like that. But if I really needed and wanted to, you gave me the moneys and always told me to take my time. The way you always let me play whatever music I would like to hear; is that something meaningful that I have overseen every single time (by thinking you just vibe with everything)?

My baby. I can't even describe it in words properly. You truly treated me like a princess. You asked me if u don't always do so. I had no choice but to take my blinding sunnies off during this vacation, seeing how well you treat me. In day to day life, it shines less bright. Now, I couldn't miss it, not even if I closed my eyes during the whole vacation.

One thing I will never ever forget. The 25th birthday you gifted me. You first gifted me a go-pro, which you had named "Renee s vlog camera". It's a typical niklas gift; useful. And damn, even if I was a bit overwhelmed with what it could do at the beginning, I friggin love it. We got to use it sooo many times during the vacay, and I am thrilled that we got to use it in those ways. I am sure there will be more times that I use it, which I am v excited for. And of course, the way you made sure that we got to do what I wanted to for my bday (a hike, an easy one to start with, which,,,, was harder than we had planned but you made sure that I was okay the whole time and we turned around when we both felt like it was a good time). And later, the whale 🐋 dolphin 🐬 watching in Funchal... (where we also looked at the doors I wanted to see, hiked up to a garden u thought I wanted to see, just to take a cable car to the actual palace where I wanted to go to (even if it sounded boring to u to go to a palace), and we ate at such a lovely restaurant, even twice!). Bro. Never will I ever forget the first time you said "I love you too". I was so deep into my feelings, I bit your arm. Yet, that wasn't enough to calm the roaring feeling inside of me. The one that was banging at the bottom of my throat, begging me to say the words. So. I did. "Don't say it back, but I love you so friggin much. Thank you so much for this.... I love you". I felt a weight falll of of my shoulders, as I put my head onto yours. Right there and then, even if I couldn't make it out a 100% over the sound of the waves, the motor from the boat, and the peace that had fallen over me, you said it. "I love you too". My head instantly bounced up: "what?!" I smile, as you also laugh and point out the sharks that you just spotted. Typical Niklas, talking about sharks when he wants to change to topic. Though, it doesn't change the fact that you said it back to me. And even if you are still debating what it means to love someone, maybe you felt the same way that I did right there, on the two front seats of this boat. There wasn't a way for me to explain why I felt the way I did. I just know. For me, it doesn't have to be based on facts. "Okay, so, I really appreciate what he did for me and I feel super safe, appreciated and good. So, in convlusion, that must mean that I love him". I am more of the feeling type. I felt overwhelmed by love for you right there and then. Maybe you felt the same, and told me that you love me too, even if you aren't factually sure that that means. Either way. I will remember you saying it. 24th of October, 3 days after my bday and 8 days before our one year anniversary. I know you only say things you mean, and if you didn't want to say it back, I gave you the options. "Don't say it back", I said the first time that I said I love you. After a short second, I said it again, and even if I didn't realize it, gave you the opportunity to say it back to me. Might not be that big of a deal to you, but as you might know, lol, it is a pretty big deal to me.

So. Baby. It seems impossible to word. But damn. You treated me like a princess. And Gash. I love you, so, so friggin much. No words. I am excited to spend so much more time with you in our future. Endless kisses to you, my love.

emilie.hofferber

[solxamber]

Desperate Confessions with: Riddle Rosehearts , Leona Kingscholar

Riddle Rosehearts

It’s almost dark when you finally step out of the library. The entire campus is steeped in the quiet warmth of the setting sun, casting long shadows and filling the air with a golden glow. You spot Riddle just a few paces away, standing by the ivy-laden wall, seemingly waiting for you. His usual composure is absent, replaced by an odd stillness in his posture, a tension that you can feel even from here.

"Riddle?" you ask, concern coloring your voice as you approach him. He turns, and for a moment, he doesn’t seem like himself. His face is flushed, his gaze intense, almost… desperate.

“You’re here,” he says quietly, almost in relief, though the softness of his words belies a turmoil simmering beneath. "I didn’t expect you to come out this late."

You tilt your head, trying to read the unspoken thoughts in his expression, but he doesn’t give you a chance. “I… need to tell you something.” His voice is tight, as though he’s struggling against himself to form the words. His hands are clenched at his sides, and he looks as if he’s trying to steady his breathing. “It’s—it’s been too much lately, and I don’t think I can keep pretending I’m…unaffected by you."

For a moment, he closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, they hold a vulnerability you’ve rarely seen. "You’ve haunted my thoughts, day and night. Every time I see you, I—I’m left wondering if I’ll be able to speak without… without feeling like my heart will burst. I feel like I’m losing control of myself whenever you’re near.”

His cheeks flush deeper, but he doesn’t look away. "I’m embarrassed by it. This—this lack of control.” His voice breaks, just a bit, and you can hear the self-criticism beneath his words. “I’ve spent my whole life restraining myself, and then you—” He takes a shaky breath. “You come into my life, and suddenly… I can’t.”

Your chest tightens at the rawness of his confession, at the deep-seated need he’s barely holding back. Before you can stop yourself, you close the gap between you, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him close.

Riddle’s breath catches, but he doesn’t pull away. His eyes are wide, a hint of disbelief mingling with hope as he gazes at you, unspoken words trembling on his lips. And in that moment, you realize that there’s no need for more words.

You surge forward, capturing his lips in a fierce, unrestrained kiss. It’s hard, almost desperate, and every ounce of feeling he’s kept bottled up seems to crash over both of you at once. Riddle’s arms wrap around you, and he clings to you as if he’s afraid you’ll vanish.

He kisses you back with the same intensity, almost a little shyly at first, but it quickly deepens into something far more passionate. His hand slips up to cup the side of your face, and you can feel his fingers tremble ever so slightly as he pulls you closer, kissing you like he’s wanted to for far too long.

When you finally part, both of you are breathless, your foreheads resting together as you catch your breath. Riddle’s eyes are shining, his lips swollen from the kiss, his face flushed.

He looks at you with a kind of wonder, like he’s still not entirely certain this is real, and then, almost shyly, he whispers, “I didn’t… I didn’t know it could feel like this.” His voice is soft, reverent, as if he’s savoring each word, the remnants of his vulnerability lingering.

Leona Kingscholar

It sneaks up on Leona, this feeling he doesn't know what to name. At first, he thinks it's just irritation—that persistent gnawing that comes with your endless presence. You’re always around, talking, laughing, pulling him into things he swears he doesn’t care about. He assumes it’s only a matter of time before he finally snaps. But then you’re not there one day, and the world feels off-kilter.

He spends that entire afternoon restless, eyes flickering toward every entrance as if expecting you to walk through it. But you don’t. The gardens are too quiet, his naps too still, and he’s left with a strange emptiness that he can’t shake off.

The next day, you’re there again, and the weight lifts. He scowls when he catches himself relaxing, brushing it off, but it keeps happening. Days pass, and it’s clear—he misses you. This realization grates on him, bothers him in a way nothing else has. How could he, Leona Kingscholar, find himself so wrapped up in someone else?

Then, today, he’s back in his usual spot in the garden, the shade cooling his skin as he lounges, pretending to nap. He can hear your footsteps before he sees you, and he opens one eye as you approach, carrying a basket of food, smiling that soft, familiar smile of yours.

"Thought you’d like something to eat," you say, setting the basket down with that easy grace of yours that makes his chest ache.

And that’s it. That ache in his chest spills over, and he can’t hold it back anymore. It all comes rushing out, like a dam breaking.

"Why?" he says, his voice rougher than he intended. "Why do you keep coming here, even when I’ve given you every reason not to?" He’s sitting up now, leaning toward you, the intensity in his eyes making you blink.

He huffs, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "I thought you were a nuisance at first. Always hanging around, always in my space." His voice drops lower, rougher, almost as if he’s frustrated with himself. "But the truth is… I’m the one who’s a mess without you. You leave, and everything just… feels wrong."

There’s a pause, and he looks down, jaw clenched, hands clenched in his lap. "I don’t know what you’ve done to me, but I don’t care anymore. All I know is… I want you here. Always." He raises his gaze to yours, the desperation flickering in his eyes a vulnerability that catches even him off guard.

Your heart swells, and as his words sink in, a smile breaks across your face. Tears well up in your eyes, unbidden, but you can’t help it. Before you know it, you’re leaning in, cupping his face, and pressing your lips to his in a kiss that’s as gentle as it is profound. The warmth of him, the rough texture of his skin against yours, grounds you, and you kiss him deeply, tasting the intensity of his feelings, the rawness he’s bared just for you.

As you pull back, his thumb brushes across your cheek, catching a stray tear. He leans forward, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips, his own lips brushing lightly against the salt of your tears. "Even that," he murmurs, his voice a soft rumble, "even the taste of you like this… I want it all."

And you hold him close, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath your palm, realizing that this is where you both belong.

Masterlist

[purinfelix]

you're here, that's the thing ˚⟡˖ ࣪ - franco colapinto

summary: your boyfriend tries his best to make your schedules, as a racer and student, work - even when miles apart w/c: 900

a/n: it's finals season for me and i needed to write something self-indulgent as a break from cramming forgive me 🙏

Being a full-time student was one thing, but being a full-time student in a relationship with an extremely clingy boyfriend, who also happened to be travelling the world to race in Formula One, was a whole other challenge.

You and Franco had had some time to adjust to a long-distance relationship since you started dating, having such different lives, and managed to make it work for the most part. But now, with him having to wholly commit to his racing and finals season rolling around for you, it put a strain on your relationship that neither of you was ready for.

It was a strange paradox - the less free time you had outside of classes and studying, the less you were able to spend talking to him, and the more you wanted just to drop everything and fly to where he was. Your morning texts and voice message updates stopped being enough, and before you knew it you struggled to go longer than an hour studying without sending your boyfriend a message to whine and complain.

You were fully aware of how immature and irresponsible this was, but this awareness did little to stop you. And it didn't exactly help that Franco seemed to share the same sentiment, telling you again and again how hard it was for him as well, how racing seemed almost impossible without you there to cheer him on. It hurt, but the two of you just had to do everything you could to get through it - for you to focus on your studies and for him to try his best at racing.

All this came to a head one Sunday though, the afternoon before one of your final exams and - because of the time difference - the night before Franco's next race. Sitting in your dorm alone, surrounded by piles of textbooks, notes and scattered pens you felt a sudden jolt of vulnerability and before you knew it you were reaching for your phone.

"Can you call?" you typed quickly to your boyfriend, your eyes lighting up upon seeing the three dots begin moving almost instantly.

"My gosh, I was just going to ask you the same thing," he replied, and before you knew it your phone was springing to life with a call from him. Clicking accept, you couldn't help but smile widely at the sight of his face.

"Hi," you say, almost shyly.

"Hi baby, how are you?"

"Good," you pause, "stressed."

He nods understandingly, "You're holding up okay, hm? Taking care of yourself?"

"Of course, Franco," you laugh at his almost motherly concern, "and you?"

"Nervous, of course."

"Well, that makes two of us." You pause after speaking, for some reason this call is turning out less enjoyable and more awkward than you hoped.

"I'm sorry, I'm just really tired," you hear your boyfriend say and when you look up you can definitely see it, his eyelids half closing over deep, dark circles under them.

"Do you want to sleep? I have to study anyways."

You watch as he chews his bottom lip, thinking of what to say though once he finally talks his voice is small, almost like a confession. "But I wanted to talk to you."

"We are talking Franco, and we can talk tomorrow once you rest."

This doesn't seem to quell his worries though, his brows still knitted in thought. "I just feel so useless knowing that you're struggling and stressed and I can't even keep you company like I normally do."

You nod sympathetically until an idea pops into your head. "We can keep the call on, carry me over to your bed - you'll sleep and I'll study."

Even through the fatigue pulling him down, Franco nods enthusiastically, doing as you say. You watch him sink into the plush white bedsheets of whatever hotel he's in, and whilst you feel a little jealous at his ability to rest right now, you turn back to your desk and start pulling out your notes.

"You'll be okay," you hear him mumble.

"What do you mean?"

"With your exams," he smiles sleepily, eyes flitting as he watches you pick up your highlighters and pens, "you're the smartest person I know."

"I don't know how much that's saying, you didn't even finish high school baby."

"Hey! I was trying to be nice," he says, feigning offence though there's a soft smile across his face.

"You're right, I'm sorry," you laugh, "you'll be okay as well, with your race tomorrow."

"I hope so."

"I know so."

"I wish you were here," he sighs, looking at you earnestly and all you can do is give him a nod in agreement.

"But for now," you wave your pen to hint at the fact that you need to get back to cramming and he seems to get the hint.

"Right, right, you won't even know I'm here," he assures you.

And despite that, the entire night passes without you once forgetting it. Not that he's distracting or anything, in fact he falls asleep mere minutes after telling you that - leaving you to work peacefully for the rest of the night. Instead, his presence, even as he sleeps, even through a screen and halfway across the world, is enough. You find yourself smiling as you study because maybe having a long-distance boyfriend, even one as clingy as Franco, has been a blessing in disguise all this time.

[michaela-o]

Hi hello everyone :D🧡

So a while back i made a post about Cybertronians witnessing humans being feral when in fight or flight response or how humans act when we are on adrenaline in general because i really like this idea. But hear me out- :D

Protective, scared and angry human = very scary human

We all have this natural need and drive inside us to protect. Wether it's the person we love, family or friends. I myself am very protective when it comes to anyone i love. I would throw myself in front of a bear if i had to. Or i would fight anything and anyone if i had to protect the people i love.

Now imagine if the human was the size as an average cybertronian: (slight warning for blood at the end)

The Lost Light got under attack by the infamous DJD and everything goes to shit so quickly no one has time to react as the deadly members tear through the ship and with Tarn having one goal in mind and that was to find Megatron. His optics burning with lust for killing him. Eventually he finds him and they both fight together. The human is watching this from the security office locked in with other members of the Lost Light. They all watch in horror and worry as they both fight. But Tarn doesn't play fair. As Megatron gets knocked by him the other bots notice as the human's breath quickens, their frame is shaking a bit and their teeth are tightly gritted together. Their protective drive has woken up.

Enough is enough..

You know what Megatron did..but no one has the right to take away someone else's life..especially someone like Tarn...Megatron was almost like the father the human claimed to never have..

As the human turns swiftly to unlock the door the other bots try to stop them but the human is determined and full of anger and adrenaline as they push past the bots who are taken aback. The bots are not fast enough as the human is already sprinting towards the scene where everything was happening. So many thoughts and emotions ran through them as they sprinted..anger, fear (you know because it's still fucking Tarn)

But no they aren't backing away now.

As they round a corner they barely make it in time because Tarn was already aiming his canon at Megatron.

The human suddenly jumps in front of Tarn and they srunch their nose and bare their teeth at him, their arms spread over Megatron. Tarn stares in disbelief and then he chuckles. You may be the size of a cybertronian but you're still a fragile dumb human.

"If you want him..you're gonna have to go through me first.."

As the human growled no one wanted and couldn't believe what they were seeing and hearing back at the security room on the cameras. Thats it the human has gotten crazy. NO ONE would do a thing like this. It's like you were asking to be killed. It's the DJD.. Even Megatron's expression almost changed to bewildered and wide eyed.

Of course the human got a good beating from Tarn but there was just something in them. This weird wild look in their eyes as blood dripped down their forehead into their eye and down their chin. Scratched and battered with at least 4 broken ribs they still stood with determination. Tarn was enjoying this but it was getting frustrating and on his nerves. Tarn is deadly and strong but the human was agile and quick. As Tarn was about to finish Megatron once again (because he thought the human was finished) they once again threw themeselves in front of him with this crazy look in their eyes and the next words rang out in everybody's ears.

"Over, my, dead body..."

The human was shaking, growling and huffing slowly loosing their strenght but reinforcements were quickly arriving and the DJD was in disadvantage so they had to fall back but of course Tarn would be back and would take the human with him the next time.

And this is how i think bots view this :3

From the cybertronian perspective:

The bots, often more concerned with survival and the war’s toll on their world i think would most likely react with shock. Tarn is a fanatic Decepticon who enforces ideology without mercy, would represent the last person they’d expect a human to stand against. They might interpret the human's bravery as foolhardy or even reckless, given Tarn’s terrifying reputation, but they may also see it as a powerful symbol that courage and conviction can transcend size and power.

From Tarn's Perspective:

I think Tarn, who worships Megatron’s original vision and detests any deviation from it, would be utterly incensed. The idea of a human—whom he views as nothing more than an insect—intervening to protect Megatron would enrage him. He’d view it as an ultimate insult to Megatron's legacy and to the Decepticon cause, likely intensifying his resolve to destroy them both to "cleanse" this offense.

Aaaa i hope you enjoyed reading as much as i did writing :3🧡 here i also drew a picture of the human so you could imagine the whole scenario better :3

[mickeys-malarkey]

[ID: a screenshot of a post by an anonymous user, titled "Shrimp saved my life," & dated "09/12/18 (Wed)." It reads:

">be depressed, suicidal xanax-addicted incel

>one day I go to my /aq/fag uncle's house for some shit

>he has pet shrimp, never seen anything like it before

>he offers to get me some

>throw them in a barely cycled tank with some shitty rock

>several shrimp die

>realize that I killed them with my apathy

>realize I need to take responsibility for once in my life

>do research, learn about water parameters and so on

>eventually I have a beautiful planted tank with no more deaths

>notice a female shrimp carrying eggs

>haven't felt this excited about anything in almost a decade

>the eggs disappear and I once again think I fucked up

>a few days later I see a tiny transparent baby shrimp

>suddenly know how the shepherds felt as they gazed upon the newbom Christ

>by this point I live and breathe shrimp

>all my spare time is spent on shrimp research and watching shrimp videos

>I spend most of the money I had saved from my last job on shrimp-products

>quit the Xanax to support shrimp spending

>start putting effort into college in hope of getting a good job for my shrimp

>grades improve, no longer facing the prospect of dropping out

>relationship with parents improves since I am finally passionate about something and applying myself

>I see genuine happiness in their eyes when I talk excitedly about my shrimp

>for my birthday my mom makes me a shrimp cake

>it even has fondant legs and little chocolate eggs

>cry like a little bitch when I see it

>mom hugs me and tells me she's always been proud of me

>college dorm neighbours demand to see my shrimp

>shit they're gonna think I'm autistic

>they actually think my shrimp are really cool they start inviting me to their social events

>start interacting with girls, get told by girls for the first time in my life that I'm fun and smart

>I think my shrimp would be proud of me if they knew

We're gonna make it bros. Even if you can't do it for yourself, do it for the animals that depend on you." /End ID]

jokes aside i think it’s amazing and heartwarming to see like 4chan incel bros perform the miracle of crawling out of that hole and becoming real human beings and chronicling their journey to realizing that they can be well adjusted happy normal dudes

[breedbun]

loid x male reader idk lol.. with homoerotic tensions between you and loid obviously because it's fun!

details: male reader, spy x family, m!reader x loid, yor does not have romantic feelings for loid, anya is silently watching all ts unfold. this will NOT be canon. EXTREMELY homoerotic friendship. youre loid's informant, u replace franky xd

warnings: homo obv, amab reader, he/him pronouns, femboy reader (haha i love dresses), yuri thinks you're a girl and tries to pursue you after thinking loid cares for you.

sfw !! ; your "first" encounter with Yor and.. her eccentric brother. not my best work ^_^ NSFW (no plot) coming soon guys calm down

"When the stars align, I'll see you again one day."

As tensions don't ease between Ostania and Westalis, Loid continues to do his part to ensure the large possibility of war breaking out between the East and the West does not shatter the fragile peace they have at the moment. While Loid may be the best of the best spies, you come in handy for him too, obviously. Living your life as (Y/N, L/N) is pretty simple. You live in the same apartment complex as Loid, you work at a cutesy bakery which you enjoy greatly, and you have a stable side job as an informant for Loid. So, even while you pursue your simplistic and carefree life, you're still doing your part to help keep Ostania and Westalis safe! How you get your information, was top secret, but you did have an ability for thieving and hacking.. and that came in handy.

Whilst Loid had initially asked you to pretend to be his wife for Anya's school interview, you were quite hesitant.. but still accepted! And really, you made.. a perfect wife. Seeing you all dressed up and talking like Loid's wife, and Anya's mother, it honestly woke something up in Loid. But alas, Loid had found a real mother for Anya, and to be honest, you joked about how this was definitely cheating. In an unrelated note, you were happy to provide Loid with information he needed.. as long as he had the dollars to pay for it, hehe.

When the day came for Loid to introduce you as a friend to his new pretend-wife, Yor, you agreed, even if you felt just a little bitter. Your only comfort was that it was just play pretend.

You stepped into your small walk-in wardrobe, examining the arrays of adorable dresses hung up within your shelves. You pick a relatively modest, ruffled one, with pink and red hues, unzipping the back of the dress. Undressing yourself, you step into your dress, and pull it up, zipping the back of your clothing up. Picking a pair of laced socks, and pretty shoes, you chose a pastry leftover in your fridge and packed it up into a paper bag. Once you got your irritatingly hard-to-wear shoes on, you finally left the house and locked your front door with a firm click.

Happily strolling down the hall of you and Loid's apartment complex, you reach the elevator and press the button to the floor above your home. As you arrive in front of Loid's door, you hear.. yelling. Of a man's voice, clearly not Loid's calm voice, because he'd never yell at his family this angrily, honestly. You debate whether or not you should even ring the doorbell at this point.. but your hand knocks on the door before you can come to a conclusion.

The yelling stops momentarily, and Loid opens the door. You offer him a quick smile, looking over his shoulder as you saw.. a strange black-haired man, Yor, and little Anya. Anya loved when you came over, too.

"Great timing, (Y/N). Come, come in," Loid ushers you in, an arm over your shoulders as he guides you to the dinner table.. where there was a strangely strong scent of wine. As you sit down, you glance over at Yor, offering her a warm smile. She smiled back, and it comforted you knowing that Yor was obviously a kindhearted woman. Loid picked a lovely girl to be his pretend-wife. Anyway, the strange black-haired man stares straight at you, squinting as his face seemed flush and his posture screamed of.. 'drunk.' For a moment, it was oddly silent. The only sound was Loid bringing away the plates, and cleaning the table, while Anya toyed with a cute plush llama. Yor held Anya in her arms, letting her sit on her lap, while Yuri.. kept staring.

"...Ah, um. You.. you alright, there?" You ask, taking a sip of the wine Loid had poured for you just a few minutes ago. Yuri stood up from the sofa, groggily approaching you, a hand on the table cloth as he breached your personal space carelessly. Loid placed a hand on Yuri's shoulder, raising an eyebrow as he noticed your discomfort, how you shrunk in your chair and how your nose scrunched ever so slightly. Simply, Loid guides Yuri to sit down in a chair beside you. "Yuri. Maybe you shouldn't go that close to my friend, yes?"

Yuri also raised an eyebrow. He crossed his arms, before struggling to stand up again, pushing his index finger against Loid's chest. "Loid Forger...! Are you... is this.. IS THIS YOUR SISTER?!" Yuri yelled, a snarky grin on his face as he glanced towards you, your face flushing ...out of second-hand embarrassment for this strange man named Yuri. He snickers, moving away from Loid as Yuri places two hands beside you, against the back of your chair, as he leaned in, trapping you against the backrest chair and him. "If you're going to steal m—MY sister, Forger, I will definitely.. steal YOURS!!"

Ah. He's on the floor now.

Loid had immediately pushed Yuri off, as Yor rushed to Yuri's side, seemingly embarrassed of her own brother, you'd assume.. from how similar they looked. Loid glared at Yuri for just a split second, which you caught onto immediately, still shocked as you leaned against the back of your chair. Loid's expression immediately shifts to one of faked apologetic empathy, kneeling down to help Yuri.. and being pushed away by him as well.

"You were invading (Y/N)'s space. I had no choice, but to pull you off. I just didn't expect you to lose your balance, Yuri."

You try your best to include yourself in this incident. You are the supposed 'victim' after all. So, you crouch down, helping Yuri up with Yor, giving him a small shy smile, praying that he doesn't take it in the wrong way. In doing so, he actually accepts your help.

"No, it's alright, Loid! It's fine. He's extremely intoxicated, it seems," you added, chuckling sympathetically (which is not real!) as Yuri stands up with you and Yor's help. You assume Yor is a strong woman, since.. clearly, Yuri doesn't feel as heavy as he looks.. he didn't feel as heavy as a grown man, at least. As such, Loid apologises to Yuri again, laughing as he tries to brush it off. Yuri starts to sound like an old man yelling at a cloud, but everyone tries to calm him down. It's not long before Yuri falls asleep on the couch. Yeah.. it'd be best to let him nap for now, probably?

With a tug of your arm, you look down to see precious Anya... seemingly starstruck by how you dressed.

"...Princess?"

And just before you can respond—

"Oh! Prince!"

Huh? How'd she know that? Not many children realize that you're.. well, a guy. Not with your pretty hair, soft face, and dresses.

[yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt]

All these posts I see with the nerve to say, "We'll be alright, we'll be okay, we'll continue to fight, we'll continue to hope," have made me more weary than the plain truth.

It's over. That's it, it's over. Our country has been taken from us.

The genocide will be invigorated, and any hope of U.S. pressure bringing it to an end is gone. I'm so sorry.

Everyone with a uterus will lose any semblance of human rights they once enjoyed. You can say goodbye to being considered a human being, you can say goodbye to any consensus whatsoever that your very life ever mattered.

Every queer and transgender person will face outright persecution and lose the right to so much as exist as themselves, alongside which even cishet people will lose all right to self-expression.

Immigrants will lose whatever fragile hold they had allowing them to pursue life and happiness in this country and will be forced away from their families, jobs, and loved ones if not worse.

Police abuse against people of color and any political dissenters will be invigorated and their immunity from justice will expand.

The prices will continue to rise and the wages will drop or remain stagnant at best.

Disabled Americans, including any American with any pre-existing condition, will lose all access to healthcare as medical costs will skyrocket and our meager insurance will be stripped of us. We will be left in the street to die.

So don't fucking tell me to "hold onto hope" and don't you dare fucking tell me "we will be okay." Who is we? It isn't me, or any of my friends or loved ones. There is not a single person I know that doesn't fall into at least one of the above-mentioned categories. Not one person in this country am I acquainted with who has neither a functioning uterus, nor ANY medical condition whatsoever, nor is an immigrant or from an immigrant family, nor is a person of color, nor is a member of the LGBTQ+ community. Think about it. Do you?

So, in God's name, who the fuck is "gonna be okay"? Anyone lucky enough to survive? Anyone who lucks out and manages to avoid a dangerous pregnancy (which will be soo easy once we lose access to birth control, I'm sure), or manages to stay under the ICE's radar, or manages not to be pulled over by a pig who needs to take out his rage over his wife surviving her last beating, or manages to not get sick or injured ever again? That's somehow not as comforting as people think it is.

And as for the genocide, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry that my country has once again failed the people of Palestine. I hope all the people who abstained from voting because Kamala wasn't pro-Palestinian enough feel really good about themselves when they watch countless more children being slaughtered as Israel is bolstered in its capacity to accelerate the genocide beyond any level we've seen thusfar. I'm so, so sorry to my brothers and sisters in Palestine. I'm so sorry that we failed you.

This isn't to say we should stop fighting. But the time for hope and handholding and singing kumbaya is over. Compassion and love have failed, today has proved that. Violence is our only option left.

[jaal-ama-daravv]

alright, I am dissecting the Emmrich graveyard scene below for how down bad they are for eachother

pls note I have attached screen caps

find my other post here

we begin -

"I would hate to lose you whilst I am still mortal"

this line is directly after Rook questioning all the flirting and what that means for them should he become a lich. which Emmrich responds witht he above. this is a tough one for me to break down as either way Emmrich retains his soul, emotions, and thoughts if he becomes a lich. I believe this line is tied to the fact of being afraid Rook will not want him anymore once he explains his desire to be a lich, as alluded to throughout the rest of the scene.

this one is kind of self explanatory. Emmrich states that nothing will change if he becomes a lich, apart form the no death thing, but would still consider Rook in the decision.

then we are met with a sigh - this is a sigh of desperation. 'how do i choose my words so carefully that Rook see's my desire and doesn't shun me for it' - hence Emmrich goes on to explain what being a lich would mean in hopes rook will still desire him. (this becomes a big factor throughout the rest of the lich romance - desire)

'considerations'

as above, and again now with considering rook. now the first conversation cuts out after this. it is my belief that these considerations are considering Rook and their perspective, whilst also including the fact that it is later revealed that Emmrich might die during the rite, therefore losing Rook whilst still mortal. I believe this line is both a statement of care for Rook, and his fear od death.

throughout the quest, Rook asks Emmrich a bunch of questions, more so just filler content so Rook can understand lichdom and the process.

then Emmrich shows you something that is probably the closest thing to his heart before Rook. his parents graves. keep in mind that Emmrich had these made, and he engraved 'they walk eternity hand in hand'. Then the next shot is Rook and Emmrich walking side by side to the shrine.

walking eternity hand in hand is also mentioned in the lich romance scene,"find you in another world" aka the fade. this man has believed in soulmates for decades.

subtle conversation tactic of, 'what would you want me to be, rook'. here you either say happy with someone who cares about him, or break up with him (i do nOT reccommend).

simple to the point, emmrich is looking for subtle validation here for rooks feelings

and the fact that there is only one correct option is wild too.

If you choose, "Whatever you want", you reply by saying Happy. which very close to the romance committment line of "Happy with someone who cares for you."

Emmrich is looking for that connection so so badly, hence why only one option

Emmrich's gaze towards Rook as he asks them what shes wants, and baring his soul to her.

after committing - Emmrich does not look away from rook once.

rook is fucked. rook is head over heels in love and smitten with this man. keep in mind that throughout the rest of the game, there are conversations with companions where Emmrich will straight up shut them down when pressed about them 'moving too fast' or 'do you know what you are doing'. Emmrich is very clearly defensive about these things, which is so hot.

in my playthrough, they are necromancers, well aware of how short life is, especially facing the apocolypse. ofc they are going all in.

this man is gonna go home and jump up and down on his bed

do i need to explain this? the shrine of passion and devotion, the ETERNAL SHRINE.

anyway im really, really down bad for this dynamic and them. im also in love with my rook so that doesnt help.

ill most likely do a break down of each scene

[inkoutsidethelines]

Ah, I see. You and I have different ideas of what counts as canon, so we're never really going to agree on this topic. I consider canon whatever George Lucas said was canon - which means that Legends, later additions by Disney, and the opinions of some psychologists are all irrelevant to me.

Since we have such differing views of what's canon, I'll (try to) keep my response short, and then I'm going to let this go. No need for us to talk in circles.

This is patently false. His admission into the order was debated by the full council in front of him. That is extremely irregular.

Okay, yeah, that's on me for not being clear enough. I almost added the caveat that his admission to the Order at all was exceptional, but decided not to. That's on me, because you're right, allowing him to join at nine was treating him differently.

That being said, I still don't think he was treated all that different once he was in the Order. What we are shown of padawan training in The Clone Wars lines up with what we are shown (which is admittedly a small amount) of Anakin's training with Obi-Wan.

Well they certainly could have handled it better than they did! Maybe it wasn't their fault but it was their responsibility to help him learn to properly cope.

I would argue that the Jedi did teach Anakin how to cope. He understands their lessons about attachment and letting go; we know he does, because he passes those lessons on to Ahsoka during Clone Wars. He knows what they teach, but he doesn't put it into practice.

because the Jedi teach that once you fall theirs no going back, which is provably false but Anakin didn't know that.

That is not a Jedi teaching. Not in the movies, or in the Clone Wars. Maybe there's some other source that says they taught that, but if so, we once again run into the problem of differing canons.

But he also wasn't in his right mind.

I'm not really going to dig into this one, because I simply disagree with the idea of Anakin having BPD being canon, so we aren't going to get anywhere on that.

His mental health was their responsibility and they didn't just drop the ball, they threw it.

And here we are also going to disagree. Yes, the Jedi are responsible for his mental health while he's a child. And they gave him the tools to get well. They were being undermined at every step by Palpatine, but the Jedi didn't know that, and they can't be held responsible for what they didn't know.

And at some point, Anakin becomes fully responsible for his own mental health, and his own choices. If he had every really asked for help, I think he would have gotten it. But he repeatedly doesn't ask for help.

He tells Obi-Wan he's dreaming of his mother, but not that he's dreaming about her being tortured to death. The advice Obi-Wan gives him makes sense with what Obi-Wan knows.

Anakin doesn't tell anyone - except Padme, who brushes it under the rug for him - that he massacred a tribe of Tuskan Raiders. Man, woman, and child.

He tells Yoda he's worried about the death of someone he cares about, won't tell Yoda who, and they're in the middle of a war. Given what Yoda knows, the advice he gives Anakin makes sense. And also Yoda wasn't wrong. I mean, maybe she would have died some other way if Anakin hadn't fallen, who knows. But Anakin choosing to go Dark Side directly lead to her dying exactly the way he saw in his vision (whether or not her cause of death was specifically Palpatine siphoning off her life force to save Anakin).

The Jedi do the best they can with what they know, but they simply don't know everything the audience does. That's not a flaw in the Jedi. And at the end of the day, I believe the only person responsible for Anakin's choices is Anakin himself.

"no attachments" in SW literally just means "don't be selfish and possessive". that's it. that's all there is. doesn't mean jedi can't have friends and loved ones. they can. just. don't be possessive and selfish about it. don't murder thousands of people in an effort to save one.

[bougiebutchbinch]

Love how we all treat your asks as a weird confessions box

Anyways today I'm thinking about how touch starved they both must have been before they found eachother, wade jokingly touches people and hugs them but none of it has substance, Logan only experiences it when hes fighting.

At first it's slow, just a pat on the thigh or lingering high five but once the dam is broken they NEVER go back, constantly holding hands and cuddling. (And fucking)

:shoves this in my face like it's tiramisu: my confessional booth is ALWAYS open

but yeahhhhhh I 100% see them as getting addicted to touch after meeting each other..... and SORRY TO MAKE IT ABOUT SEX AGAIN but like. I know we've joked about soaking but I BELIEVE WHOLEHEARTEDLY that Logan looooves sinking into Wade and laying fully on top of him with his full weight and. Staying there.

They both have insane refractory periods so I'm presuming they've gotten off a half dozen times each before this, but it's Logan's favourite way to end a session - to be buried in Wade's body while binding him in a tight hug. He loves to breathe Wade in until his scent fills his head; loves to feel his ever-shifting scars ripple against his own flesh, nothing but skin between them. Holding him so fucking close, feeling Wade pulse from the inside, their bodies sealed with sweat and come.

Wade, meanwhile, inevitably suffers through a solid half-hour where he whimpers and wiggles on Logan's dick and tries to get more stimulation. But Logan ain't having none of that. He just. Holds. Wade. Still.

And eventually... Wade lets himself go limp. Going floppy like his spinal cord's snipped, he exhales with the longest sigh Logan's ever heard. It sounds a little like defeat, and a lot like a much-needed release. He lets himself be enveloped in intimacy, wrapping Logan in his arms and legs, skin on skin. Squeezing on his cock, but not chasing more of the ol' thrust'n'grind - just soaking in that perfect fullness, and oneness. For once in his life, he's calm and still.

Logan smiles, whiskery cheeks tickling Wade's throat. As the moment stretches, he kisses him - slow and wet, like they have all the time in the universe. Which - yeah, thinking about it? They actually do.

[usermischief]

♚ Pairing: Sterek ♚ Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale ♚ Tags: canon divergence, getting together ♚ Words: 2883

ao3

---

Stiles narrows his eyes. “Satisfied? Or do you need my social security number too?”

Still, Derek stays silent as he looks at him. It’s not particularly comforting – that is, until his gaze drops to Stiles’ mouth then flicking back up again, a slow smile curling around his lips.

Stiles’ heart jolts in his chest, and he clears his throat. “Delighted my trauma amuses you,” he mutters, disregarding the fact that he continues to make jokes about it as well.

“Delighted I don’t have to kill you.”

---

Click.

Cursing softly under his breath, Stiles flicks the light switch up again. Down. Up. Down. Up. “Fucking hell.” Stiles massages the bridge of his nose. His stupid light. Everything else – even exorcising this damned place – worked out beautifully. Which is a miracle. Thanks to the residual demon, who infested this place after the previous owners fucked around – and found out – with a Ouija board in the late 50s, this house has been in a nightmarish state. Every inch of this place was a deathtrap. Rotten wood. Broken stairs. A ceiling, roof and second floor so unstable, a gust of wind could cause everything to collapse in a heartbeat.

Stiles spent more than one night in a tent in front of the house.

A bark cuts through the silence of the house, startling him out of his thoughts. Drawing his brows together, he looks past the stubborn ceiling light to the second-floor landing. The puppy he’s found under the house, white fur crusted with dirt and blood – aptly named Bobak, Bo for short – and who has refused to leave Stiles’ side ever since he fed him for the first time, is staring at him almost expectantly. Although some dog owners most likely won’t be happy about his lifestyle – flipping and clearing out haunted houses and constantly moving around – Stiles refuses to give Bobak away. Bo might not be the cuddliest or most social of dogs, he still makes Stiles’ life less, much less, lonely.

Bo barks again.

Stiles quirks a brow. “What? It’s not dinner time yet.”

Wagging his tail, Bo bounds down the stairs, nearly tumbling down the last two steps. He catches himself, jumps up the front door once before all but flying around Stiles’ legs then, finally, making a mad dash out of the backdoor and into the yard. There, he keeps zooming around, causing colored leaves to fly into the air, and barking his adorable little head off, too big ears fluttering in the wind. He’s going to miss Bo’s floppy ears once he’s grown into them.

Before Stiles can follow him, there’s a knock on the door. He glances up at the clock, narrowing his eyes once more as it passes the current bane of existence – maybe he should just get an electrician this once – and turns to the front door. It’s not late, per se, but darkness is setting in, and people are still keeping their distance to this place. So, he isn’t usually expecting anyone to swing by, even less since his closest neighbor lives around a mile away, but the person he never imagined to come over is Derek Hale.

Drawing his brows together, Stiles swings the door open.

“Hey.” Derek’s smile seems strained. To be honest, he looks like he’d rather be anywhere else – not unlike the first time they met at the only diner in town. Well, met might be stretching it. That day, Derek couldn’t finish his lunch fast enough, even Sally was surprised by his precipitate behavior. So much so, she commented on it while serving Stiles his food.

He had chalked it up to Derek sensing something about him the same way Stiles clocked him as a werewolf the second he laid eyes on him – aside from noticing that the guy is a walking and talking Calvin Klein advertisement. Instead of avoiding him, however, Derek kept showing up all over the place. It seemed accidental, but Stiles has dealt with enough supernatural creatures and grew up with a sheriff that he can recognize stalking behavior when he sees it.

Derek’s never been lurking around here, though.

Well, not until today, that is.

And Stiles’ heart is having a field day with it, which is rather unfortunate with Derek’s supernatural hearing and all.

Stiles manages to clear his throat about thirty seconds into the terribly awkward silence. “Hey.” He sounds like an idiot. He feels like one too. “Can I- do you-” Bo interrupts him with a slew of excited barks, zooming through the hallway and back out again, sending more leaves flying around; it gives Stiles a few seconds to gather himself. “You wanna come in?”

“I bought dinner,” Derek says at the same time.

They both stare at each other, and the silence makes Stiles’ neck grow uncomfortably warm.

Luckily, Derek cuts it short. “I’d love to.”

Stiles steps aside and gestures for Derek to come in. This is happening. He’s not entirely sure how or why, but it is, and Stiles is not about to complain. The last time a hot guy walked into his home was – when? Stiles doesn’t really remember. Which is sad, honestly. Sure, he’s been aware that both his social and love life have sailed off a cliff once he started dictating his life to ghost and demon hunting, but now, watching Derek stroll into his kitchen, he realized for the first time how bad it’s really gotten in the past four years.

“Looks good,” Derek remarks, almost curious in the way he’s taking everything in. “You did an excellent job keeping the old charm alive.”

Crossing his arms, Stiles leans against the large doorway leading to the kitchen. “You’ve been here before?”

Derek shrugs as he puts the bag with the takeout on the dinner table. “Teenagers and haunted houses.”

“Werewolves too?”

If Derek is surprised that Stiles knows, he doesn’t show it. Instead, an almost cheeky grin curls around his lips. “Werewolves especially.”

Stiles snorts and crosses the room. “I expected you to be smarter.” He glances at Derek, smirking briefly, and steps in front of the only cupboard he uses. The good thing about moving around so much is that he never collects any clutter. As a teen and college student, things looked very different. Two boxes, a couple of suitcases and his backpack fit into Roscoe anyway. Now that Bo is traveling with him, he’s got to figure out the new logistics.

“How’d you do it?” Derek asks as he takes the two plates from him.

Their fingers brush, either on purpose or entirely accidental. Stiles doesn’t know, but the touch sends a tingle through his whole body. A good tingle, great even, and Stiles hates to realize how touch starved he really is.

Stiles opens the fridge, scowling a little as he’s greeted with emptiness. He really needs to go grocery shopping. “Very carefully,” he replies and grabs two bottles of beer. “And lots of research." Once he's figured out where to look, finding pictures of old houses isn’t that much of a struggle. Often, he meets the previous owners, who either think he’s suicidal or are very happy to help.

Derek watches him, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. “The demon or the house flipping?”

“Ah.” Stiles sets the bottles on the table and leans against the edge. “That’s why you’re here.”

Derek merely watches him, eyebrows climbing higher as his expression turns more and more expectant. An alpha after all. He’s probably used to people jumping at his command.

It might be fun to let him stew for a little longer. “You know, you could’ve just asked.”

“I just did.”

Stiles snorts out a laugh, “I meant ask me about why those werewolf senses are tingling whenever you’re around me.” He cocks his head to the side and decides to put himself out there, for once, “unless, of course, there are other reasons for that.” He’s got Derek in his house already and considering that he leaves as soon as it is sold, there’s no harm done, no awkward darting around each other needed in case he’s rejected. Two months tops, and he’s out of this town, where everyone knows everybody, and nothing ever stays secret.

Derek’s lips twitch.

Good. So, Stiles didn’t exactly imagine the lingering looks whenever they, clearly not entirely accidentally, ran into each other absolutely everywhere. In a town with less than 100 people, it’s impossible to hide anyway.

“Tingling?” Derek echoes, more amused than in disbelief.

Stiles lets his head fall back, watching out of the corner of his eye as Derek’s gaze drops to his neck then back up again. “You’re a poor conversationalist.”

“And you’re dodging the question.”

Stiles clicks his tongue, rolling his head to the left to look at the werewolf again. “Geez, D, you can’t just ask people why they’re making you feel weird.”

A flicker of annoyance dances over his features, either at the nickname or his refusal to give him the desired reply. Still, Derek props his hands on the table and leans closer, one eyebrow raised. “I can if I consider them a danger to my pack and territory.”

Fair point.

However, “I literally exorcised this fucking demon.” Although nobody has died in this house in almost a decade, Stiles considers it future deaths prevented.

Derek taps a finger against the table, allows red to bleed into his eyes.

Rolling his eyes, Stiles pushes away from the table and faces the werewolf, arms crossed firmly in front of his chest. Although Derek didn’t outright threaten him, Stiles is fully aware that this evening could easily turn into his last if the big bad alpha considers him too dangerous, which would very much be the exact opposite of how he’d prefer this evening to go. He sighs. “I was possessed by a nogitsune when I was sixteen.” Stiles doesn't miss as Derek’s expression return to stoic, listening, waiting. He sees the way his shoulders tense, the way something in his eyes shift, ever so slightly. The moment of truth, always and forever. "It did some weird shit with my body, cracked my mind like an egg, hence the whole-” he waves his hand around. “Thought I could do something good if I can pierce the veil, you know?” It makes him feel less guilty about the shit the nogitsune did while using his body like a meatsuit.

But that’s something nobody else needs to know about.

Derek straightens.

Stiles narrows his eyes. “Satisfied? Or do you need my social security number too?”

Still, Derek stays silent as he looks at him. It’s not particularly comforting – that is, until his gaze drops to Stiles’ mouth then flicking back up again, a slow smile curling around his lips.

Stiles’ heart jolts in his chest, and he clears his throat. “Delighted my trauma amuses you,” he mutters, disregarding the fact that he continues to make jokes about it as well.

“Delighted I don’t have to kill you.”

“You think you can kill me?” Stiles chuckles, playing pretend. Dealing with demons is one thing. They’re very capable of murder, more so than ghosts, but depending on their strength and rank, they need time – time to get into your head, time to fuck with you. They have to chip away their target’s defenses. Knowing and being prepared for a demon makes dealing with them a lot easier. Plus, if he’s learned anything from his own possession, it’s how to keep things out of his mind. Werewolves are a different beast entirely. If they want someone dead, all they have to do is pin them down and rip their throat out.

Derek pushes away from the table and all but stalks closer to him, narrowing the small distance the table offers. “Of course, I could.” He runs his fingers along the edge of the table. It’s one of the few things Stiles could repair from the old furniture, so, luckily, Derek keeps his claws in check.

Stiles swallows drily and rips his gaze away from Derek’s hand, locking eyes with him again. “Awfully confident there, buddy.”

His words are met with a near predatory glint in the hazel eyes. Beautiful hazel eyes, at that. Easy to get lost in.

Focus.

“You don’t scare me.”

Derek stops directly in front of him. They’re nearly chest to chest, and although Derek isn’t necessarily taller than him, Stiles feels weirdly small. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but the way he is holding himself, the way he is looking at him – as if Stiles is a rabbit cornered by the big bad wolf. Red bleeding into his eyes accentuates the whole predator predicament.

Fucking werewolves, seriously.

“Cute,” Stiles comments anyway, uncrossing his arms and straightening his shoulders and spine. “Still not scared, though.” They’re probably both aware that’s not entirely true, but he’s never been someone to back down from a challenge. “You gotta do more than creeping around in the bushes and stare at me with your alpha eyes.” Especially since the latter is actually pretty damn hot, which isn’t exactly helping the situation.

“I’m not trying to scare you,” Derek informs him in a casual yet amused tone.

“Really? Could’ve fooled me, big guy.”

Derek chuckles, letting his head fall forward as he does so – and Stiles can’t help but watch his mouth move. It’s fascinating. Every time he’s seen Derek, the guy has been scowling. Stiles didn’t think he could chuckle, much less laugh.

Fuck, he’s pretty.

Beautiful even.

His heartbeat picks up when Derek locks eyes with him again. “You’re not very attentive.”

“Oh, really?” Now, that is just plain rude and so uncalled for. “How do you think I’m finding these demons? By paying very close attention to details. So, I am attentive. I’m actually the most at-”

Derek kisses him. No ifs. No buts. No hesitation. He just does, and his lips are so soft and warm, their touch makes Stiles’ stomach twist with anticipation. Derek moves his hands and cradles his cheeks, thumb tracing a slow, ever so gentle line along his skin. All of Derek’s hard edges are replaced by something tender and raw.

Stiles’ heart stutters in his too tight chest, and his mind blanks, every single thought swept away by the warm lips pressed to his own. He melts against Derek, pressing closer as he curls his fingers around Derek’s bicep and his eyes flutter shut. A soft, almost helpless sound escapes his throat as a warmth floods through him, followed by a kind of ache Stiles doesn’t quite have a name for. They both settle deep inside of him, spreading into every part of his body. His entire body lights up with a want he hasn’t felt in what feels like forever, a need for closeness more than just desire.

When Derek pulls back, Stiles moves with him, desperate to hold onto the kiss just a little bit longer.

Derek regards it with a soft chuckle, his warm breath ghosting over Stiles’ lips.  

The sound alone makes Stiles wants to kiss him again, but he doesn’t, clears his throat instead. No words come, which in itself is quite the curiosity, and Stiles is almost relieved at the sound of paws hitting the wood. Here to interrupt any possibility of an awkward silence. Stiles glances over his shoulder, watches as Bo enters the room and sniffs the air. It’s probably best to be upfront.

Once more, he clears his throat. “I’m not staying.” He crouches down and can’t help but smile when Bo bumps his head against his leg, demanding attention. “At least not forever. Until the house is sold, and I found the next… target, I guess.” He runs his fingers through Bo’s soft fur as he tries to ignore the way his heart aches at the thought of leaving.

For the first time in years.

Which is ridiculous. He doesn’t know Derek; not how he is as a person, that is. He only knows superficial stuff. What happened to his family, that he’s a werewolf and that he owns the only garage in town, and that he doesn’t need to crawl under cars or get car grime and oil all over himself because he’s loaded. So, he’s either doing it for fun or for the people living in this town… or both. Derek seems to be a good person, but so is Stiles, and Stiles won’t lie — he’s not only a handful, he’s also not particularly nice. Many people called him an asshole. They’re not entirely wrong.

“I’m not asking you to stay,” Derek says as he slides onto the chair at the head of the table, very clearly indicating that he’s not planning on leaving soon. “But maybe I can convince you to come back.” 

Stiles blinks up at him, scratching Bo behind his ears. “You don’t know me.”

“Yet,” Derek adds and looks down at him with a smile.

This fucking guy is going to give him a heart attack before Stiles has figured out his favorite color. Aside from that, it dawns on Stiles that he may have misjudged the guy. “So, you stalked me because you like me.”

The tips of Derek’s ears turn the slightest shade of pink. Adorable. “I never stalked you.”

Bo barks.

“He says you’re a liar.” Stiles raises to stand and pulls a chair out. “I think you followed me around, but didn’t know how to approach me.” Smirking, he sits down as Bo uses his chance to curl up under his chair.

Instead of replying, Derek opens the bag of takeout and pulls out only the best of Sally’s diner. His ears turn just a shade darker.

Stiles props his chin on his hand, not even bothering to hide the smile forming on his lips. He totally could get used to this.

[detective-wraith]

I blinked as I looked at him. He was crying. He should be laughing in my face, but he was crying. That’s new. I stood up and moved closer to him.

“This feels a bit weird to ask, since, well… I just shot you… but, are you doing ok?” As I said this, I attempted to sit next to him. I say “attempted” because the ground near him was currently 2.78x as soft as a mattress, and so what actually happened involves me falling flat on my face.

He sniffled, then looked up at me with a somewhat confused expression on his face. “You just shot me? Why?”

“Well, I was told you were going around breaking the Reality Warper treat… hold on one second. If you didn’t know I shot you, then why were you on the floor just now crying?” I was, hopefully understandably, a little annoyed. I had payed good money for that bullet.

He paused for a second, debating on whether or not to tell me. Finally, his shoulders slumped in resignation, and he muttered, “One of my friends died.”

I raised my eyebrows at that. “You’re a reality warper, right? It seems like your friend being dead is a… fixable problem.” Even though most reality warpers couldn’t bring back the dead, this guy must be quite powerful based on the… less than normal bodies of my coworkers nearby. He should easily have the power to return people from the dead.

He was shaking his head now. “You mortals don’t understand. She made me promise her that I wouldn’t bring her back if she died.”

Once again, I was confused. “Ok, so break your promise. Easy peasy.”

He shook his head again. “I can’t! That’s simply not possible. As a reality bender, my promises are absolute. If I promise something, and it’s within my power to deliver on that promise, than that promise is no longer just a promise. It’s an absolute truth of the universe.” After saying this, He gave me a confused look. “For a task force dedicated to keeping us under control, you know shockingly little about us.”

I muttered something unimportant about government funding, and then thought through the problem. “I can’t just leave you here. Your tantrum about your friend has gotten 3 of our best agents killed. So here’s the way I see it: we need to find a way for you to feel better.”

He looked at me with a somewhat confused look. “You just mentioned how I can bring people back to life, and now you’re forgetting I can bring your agents back to life. Are you sure you aren’t brain damaged?” He waved his hand, and the 3 bodies near us started to reassemble themselves. While this was happening, his face began to loosen up, like a weight was being lifted from his mind.

“You try walking up to a murderer and asking them to perform CPR on their victims,” I muttered a little angrily. I then took a deep breath, and stated resolutely “if you can promise me you won’t kill or maim any more of my agents, I’ll be comfortable leaving.”

He thought for a second, then said “I promise that as long as your agents do not attack me, I will listen to what they have to say for at least 1 hour before deciding to attack them. Furthermore, I promise that if I choose not to attack someone, I will not make any attempt to track them down in the future, at least for as long as they are agents under your agency. This promise will last for as long as your agency wishes for it to last, or until at least half of those affected by it vote against it, whichever one is longer.” After saying that, he looked at me. “Sound fair to you?”

I thought through what he had promised, and nodded.

You've been sent out to defeat a powerful, reality bending god. All have died horrifically trying. And here you are in front of the crying god as they complain about how you just shot them.

[purple-plum-petals]

Hi!! I saw you have requests open for Homicipher! Could I ask for a drabble with Mr. Gap? I feel like he's underrated but he's my favorite. Maybe a first kiss with him?

⊱ Connection ⊰ || Mr. Gap X Reader

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Character(s): Mr. Gap (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Spoilers for Homicipher (specifically Return End), Canon-typical Mentions of Violence (and horror-elements), Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms (Reader briefly uses physical pain to distract themselves from their emotional discomfort; they also sleep to avoid their emotions), Creature/Monster X Human Relationship (Mr. Gap doesn’t fully comprehend or understand the concept of love the way that humans do, but that’s a barrier for, like… the majority of the cast haha). Anything spoken in the other world’s language will be bolded. Genre: Drabble, Fluff (Hurt/Comfort), Slight Angst, Romantic or Platonic Relationship (It’s Complicated, honestly). Word Count: ~2,685 Request: “Hi!! I saw you have requests open for Homicipher! Could I ask for a drabble with Mr. Gap? I feel like he's underrated but he's my favorite. Maybe a first kiss with him?” Author’s Note: Yipee, my first Homicipher request! Thank you for sending one in! I find Mr. Gap’s character quite entertaining – I loved the running gag of him asking the MC for different parts of their body and being like “for real?” whenever you said no. I found his desire to brag to be quite endearing, too, strangely enough. A lot of the moments that had me chuckling involved Mr. Gap, so I’m somewhat fond of his character as a result. I haven’t written any horror-meets-romance stories since my Creepypasta days, so I apologize if this is a little rough or OOC. I’m still trying to finish the game and digest all the lore haha. 

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡

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Living within the other world had become your new normal at this point, even if you spent most of your days curled under the covers of whatever bed you could find. You slept whenever you had the chance. It wasn’t necessarily because you were tired, but rather a desire to keep your mind from wandering too much. You still found the occasional earthquakes and frequently shifting dimly-lit hallways confusing to traverse at best or frustrating to deal with at worst, but you hoped you would slowly grow to get used to them with more time. 

You run your hands down your face as you lay on the strangely pristine white bed, staring down at the blue bag that rested by your feet on the floor. For whatever reason, there was a strange feeling of loneliness that was deep-seated in your chest. It was a weight pulling you down, and it was one that had lingered for quite some time now. 

When you returned to the other world, you realized that you would most likely never be able to see Mr. Silvair or Mr. Crawling again. Despite telling yourself it was fine, that life was all about encounters and departures, that horrendous emptiness in your heart hadn’t diminished yet. 

You remember when Mr. Gap brought you back to the other world in exchange for a heart – your mind is conflicted when you think about the organ you had given him, a heart that wasn’t yours. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to think about it for longer than you need to. 

You try to remember his hand reaching out from the dark void of the bag after arriving in the strange world once more. You remember the way his cold palm felt against your scalp, lightly patting your hair in a way you thought was meant to be comforting… only for him to state he wanted your head with that jokester-esque grin of his. 

You chuckle quietly to yourself at the memory of the expression that crossed his face whenever you told him that, no, he’s not allowed to take your fingers or whatever else seems to pique his interest at the moment. Then, your mind remembers the look on his face when you asked if he was worried about you. Mr. Gap didn’t seem as though he was capable of experiencing emotions the way that most humans were, but, well… it was someone to talk to, at least, even if you run the risk of him asking for an organ or body part or hair. What did he even do with that stuff, anyway? 

Letting out a deep sigh, your eyes fall to the bag on the floor. He really only appeared whenever he wanted, but maybe you could see if he was in the mood to at least startle you as he so often enjoyed doing. With a deep breath, you reach down and grab the bag by its black straps, feeling the somewhat rough fabric against your palms. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, per se, but it was a reminder that at least you could still feel. 

You open the carrier, and the only thing that greets you is that inky blackness. You briefly wonder if it was an infinite darkness held within the unassuming gym bag, and what would happen if you just threw random things inside for the fun of it. However, as you stare into the void, a familiar face pops into view, effectively startling you out of your trance. 

Mr. Gap smiles even wider at your reaction, seemingly proud of himself for still managing to startle you. You’d think that you would be more immune to jumpscares after spending so much time in the other world, but apparently not. 

“Scared you.” Mr. Gap speaks proudly, the language you had slowly been absorbing over your journey becoming easier and easier to decipher and remember. That was good at least, you thought. It would be far too difficult to live in a place where you couldn’t even understand what everyone was saying. 

You roll your eyes at him, speaking under your breath but loud enough so he could hear your muttering, “You’re rude, you know that?”

He stares up at you with an unimpressed expression, waiting for you to speak again. Eventually, you tell him with a frown, speaking to him in a language he understood, “You mean.”

It was his turn to roll his eyes at you, yet he seemingly did not take any offense to your comment. Then, his gaze returns to your face, and you two simply stare at each other in a prolonged silence. Well, now what? How exactly do you explain to a creature that you were lonely when they probably couldn’t even empathize with what you were experiencing? Did you even know the word for lonely in their language, if there was one?

“I, umm…” You pause, taking a moment to try and figure out the words to say, averting your gaze to a crack in the concrete flooring of the room you had made into your makeshift home. Mr. Gap is surprisingly patient, staring up at you while your hands begin to fidget with the textured straps of the bag. You look back down at him and say, your voice is surprisingly soft, “I upset. Want talk.”

Then, almost as if on cue, he smiles and reaches a hand out of the bag, making a grabbing motion as he asks, “Give heart?”

Honestly, you weren’t sure what else you were expecting, and now you felt like an idiot for expecting literally anything else to come out of his mouth. You frown deeply and quickly zip up the bag, disregarding the shocked expression on his face at the action, before tossing it on the floor without a second thought. You let out a groan, clawing your hands down your face while trying to ignore the stinging sensation your nails left in their wake across your skin.

At least the pain raking across your flesh was a distraction from the ache in your chest. 

You decide, once more, to take a nap. Whenever your mind was racing or the thoughts became too much to bear, you slept. Honestly, there wasn’t much else you could do here. After all, you weren’t in the mood to go around swinging at anything and everything with your crowbar, especially since you had vowed to only use it in self-defense. This world was your home now, and you didn’t want to make enemies who would, in return, only make your existence more miserable. 

You close your eyes and attempt to drift off into the world of dreams, a place that wasn’t this world nor the one you came from, yet your attention is grabbed by the feeling of something shifting under the covers. Your eyes fly open faster than light as your fist grabs the thick comforter, lifting it quickly while your other hand went to grab the crowbar you kept by your bedside. 

However, Mr. Gap’s face comes into view, and your hand pauses as soon as your fingers graze across the rusted metal of your weapon. You frown deeply and tell him with a sternness in your tone, “I told you to stop doing that – I’m going to accidentally kill you one of these days.”

“Why upset?” He asks you suddenly, and it’s a question that has your mind stopped in its tracks. You hadn’t been expecting him to come back so soon, let alone ask you a question like that. For a moment, you wonder if he was worried about you, only for the memory of the last time you asked him that question to pop into your head. 

You lay there, staring at the darkness under the covers, debating on whether or not you should tell him your true feelings. After some moment of contemplation, you decide to try and speak with him about what you have been experiencing. After all, the worst thing that would probably happen is him asking for your heart again or something. 

“I…” You start, pausing for a moment to swallow, your tongue strangely heavy in your mouth, “No home. I lonely.”

Mr. Gap’s brows furrow and he states plainly, “This home.”

Just as you thought, he didn’t understand. If anything, your statement only seemed to confuse him further. His expression was also different, one you hadn’t quite seen on him before. You had seen him shocked, smug, and displeased, but the look on his face appeared almost… frustrated? 

You begin to try and snake your way out from under the covers, feeling like going on a walk now instead of trying to take a nap. However, the room suddenly goes dark as Mr. Gap pulls you back under the sheets, covering your entire body in the surprisingly soft duvet. For a moment, you feel panic swell in your veins and you wonder if something you had said upset him to the point of wanting to kill you. However, no pain ever came. You just heard his voice state once more, “This home.”

“No, I know it’s my home now, I just…” You speak, your mind going through word after word, attempting to translate what you want to tell him in his language. It was a little unnerving, being unable to see anything in the darkness that now enveloped your body. You pushed that anxiety aside, though, telling Mr. Gap, “I… miss touch. Miss connection. This world different – lonely.” 

There’s once again no reply, and soon the feeling of another under the sheets disappears. You let out a long sigh as you remove yourself from under the covers, Mr. Gap no longer under the blanket with you. You take a moment to compose yourself before standing up from the bed and grabbing your reliable crowbar – it was walking time.

You walked and walked in circles until your legs felt ready to collapse, returning to your makeshift base after what seemed like hours. You fell face-first onto the bed, your crowbar slipping from your hand to the concrete floor with a loud clatter; you probably would have cringed at the noise if not for the exhaustion in your bones. There’s a long stretch of silence, and you feel sleep start to creep into your mind, when a simple “Hello” snaps you out of your stupor. 

You turn your head from where it was nuzzled into a pillow to look down at the bag you had tossed to the floor earlier, seeing Mr. Gap peeking up at you from inside. You wonder if you should say anything back before eventually relenting, echoing to him the same greeting. 

There’s a shuffling noise, the sound of paper being crinkled before you watch as he pulls out what appears to be a magazine, holding it out for you to take. You sit up in the bed and look down at him with a blank expression, saying with your lips pulled into a flat line, “No head. No finger. No heart–”

“Not want anything.” He replies, effectively cutting you off as he holds out the magazine closer to you. It seems as though he can read the expression of pure disbelief on your face before he clarifies, “Take paper. You have.”

Despite some reservations, you eventually do reach out and take the small book from his grasp, whispering your thanks. It’s a relatively new magazine, surprisingly, and only the edges of the glossy paper seemed crinkled. You flip through the pages, wondering what information you were supposed to be deriving from the book. After all, it didn’t seem like anything special–...

Then, a picture of two people hugging appeared. Two humans, holding each other in a tight embrace with bright and happy smiles on their faces. One was kissing the other’s cheek, and the mere sight alone caused your breath to hitch. Oh, it seemed like ages since the last time you felt the level of comfort with another like the people in the picture, and there was a part of yourself that regretted coming back. It wasn’t like you belonged in your world anymore, either… you really were a monster with nowhere to call home, weren’t you?

“Why upset?” Mr. Gap asks, his voice surprisingly gentle. You look down at him and wonder how he knew you were hurting. Then, you heard the sound of something hitting the pages of the magazine in your hand. Your gaze returns to the book below you, noticing the water droplets that had fallen down your cheeks and onto the magazine, causing the ink on the paper to bleed slightly. You quickly wipe your face yet, before you can do anything else, two arms wrap around your waist and your body is once again shrouded in the darkness under the covers as Mr. Gap pulls you under.

His body is cold to the touch, you note, yet it’s not an unpleasant sensation. Before you have the chance to speak, you hear Mr. Gap tapping the page of the magazine in your hand, asking you quietly, “You want that? Touch?”

“Do I… want a hug?” You ask him, wishing you had the ability to see in the dark. You hum and lay your head back, enjoying the softness of the pillow underneath your skull, “I want good touch.”

You close your eyes and wait, expecting Mr. Gap to ask for something in return or simply disappear… but he doesn’t, and you find your eyes flying open when you feel his arms wrap around your torso. His touch was experimental, uncertain as his palms rested against your lower back. His head is resting on your stomach and although you cannot see him, you know he is staring at your face through the darkness. 

You suddenly find yourself becoming choked up, the tears forming in your eyes as your arms instinctively wrap around him as well, holding him close to your body like one would hold a stuffed toy. Mr. Gap makes a strangled noise, yet you don’t let up on your hold. You sit up on the bed, dragging him along with you, before nuzzling your face into what you assumed was his neck. 

He’s completely frozen, his hold on you never once faltering yet never once tightening, either. A part of you wonders if you broke him or something, especially considering he had never really been the physically affectionate type. You both sit like this under the covers for a long time, and you eventually feel his body and muscles relax under your touch. 

While the ache in your chest wasn’t gone, it had definitely diminished as you both held onto each other with a tinge of desperation in both of your actions. You let out a sigh, and you feel Mr. Gap shiver as your warm breath fans against his cold skin. The dried tear stains on your cheeks made your skin feel tight, but you smiled nevertheless as you whispered to him, “Thank you. I grateful – happy.”

Your hand reaches up, cupping his cheek in your palm as you slowly guide his face to yours. Oh, how you wish you could have seen his expression as you placed a kiss on his cheek, your slightly chapped lips pressing against his marred flesh. You feel him jolt, and you wonder if he’ll disappear right then and there. He doesn’t though, and instead, you feel his hands remove themselves from your hips to hold your face in his grasp. 

Instinctively, you close your eyes, and you feel the slight tremble in his fingers as he leans closer. You smile softly, finding his nervous demeanor to be quite cute considering how smug he tended to be. Then, you felt it, his lips against your cheek. 

Mr. Gap’s lips were in even worse shape than yours, but you found yourself not caring in the slightest as he placed shockingly gentle kisses against the apple of your cheek. You giggle at the sweet action, the noise of your laughter egging him on as his kisses become more confident and more frequent. You do the same, placing feather-light kisses against his skin, whispering to him as you pepper his face in smooches, “Happy, happy, happy...”

[evenmorefatallyobsessed]

Hey so to anyone whose ever wondered why I like Jaune I could probably give a good amount of reasons.

From his knight aesthetic, to him not being a Gary Stu, but a very flawed, believable character whose trying to improve himself. Hell I LOVE that he is a reference to Joan of Arc.

That he's not classically played masculine, but also isn't portrayed effeminate or flamboyant to oppose it either. I like that Jaune feels like someone who at a glance could be from a earth.

He feels like he was a Civilian, and you know what, I also have a weakness for blue eyed blondes... Maybe that's why I Love the idea of there being a whole family of them.

Heck conceptionally Jaune has a lot in common with the stereotypical Shonen protagonist... But then again so does Ruby and Yang. And Blake fit the more edgy manga Protags...

But if I had to name one thing I like about Jaune, even more then his determination/ Willpower (Stubbornness when it's misdirected like it was in Jaunedice)

I think what I like most is, well... That Jaune is arguably the bravest character in RWBY (Oscar could be argued to be that too though)

Let me explain, so... Everyone else in Beacon is different then Jaune mentally. And the reason is simple. a combination of their aura and training...

All the main cast besides Jaune were overpowered teenagers with strength like Captain America. And there in lies the reason.

They don't view things the same way Jaune does, in the Red Trailer, we literally see Ruby tear apart a horde of Beowulves in minutes on the way to visit her mother's grave. Which implies she does this regularly on said trek.

Now for those watching we gain the same mentality and understanding as the girls of RWBY. Beowulves aren't that strong, their mobs... Weak, easy to beat and need big numbers to be even a bit challenging.

But if you simply look at them, compare them to Ruby... Every Beowulve is a freaking WEREWOLF!!!

That is fucking terrifying, take away the aura and that is a brickshitting situation Ruby is in. But to her it's really not, because she has spent her whole life killing these things to the point where she can do so effortlessly.

Hell we see this again in Yang when she literally doesn't just enter a fight with a gang of known armed criminals but starts it! Literally grabbing the kingpin by the balls.

Which, why wouldn't she, she punches fucking armored Grizzly bears to death. And so everyone one of JNPR and RWBY outside of Jaune look at Grimm and Criminals in the sense of...

Oh neat, a bad guy, let's kill/ beat them up...

When their being fired at their not thinking they could get shot, NO! Their thinking it's okay to get shot a few times cuz they have aura that'll protect them.

And that's why Jaune is so brave, he went to Beacon as a civilian, unaware of aura. Now stop and think about how far behind Jaune was actually in his own mind.

Because remember, he didn't know about aura, the stuff that lets everyone else be so OP. Jaune fought a Ursa Major and killed it without prior training and wasn't using aura techniques, he had enough physical prowess and strength to cleave through it in a single shot...

A literal Marine couldn't do that... But Jaune did, if it were a world without aura, Jaune would've easily been one of the physically strongest people. But because aura existed, people who were trained their entire lives with it are worlds apart above him.

But my point is this, everyone else isn't so much brave as confident and in Yang and Weiss's cases moreso arrogant. Ruby looked at a Goliath while she was in Mt. Glenn and her first thought was to go and kill it... That thing was a fucking Kaiju. And she wasn't scared of it, oh no she was excited to kill it!

Initiation was literally fun for Yang, she had a blast during it, Nora too, Blake wasn't concerned and until she was forced to ride a Nevermore Weiss was so at ease that she was willing to strike out on her own instead of teaming up with someone else, not once but twice.

But Jaune is different, to him, a Beowulf is a monster that can kill him in a single strike...A Ursa is a beast that could kill the strongest men... A single attack could end you life...

And yet he was still willing to take initiation, there was no second chances, or magic barrier to protect him, hell he didn't even have a gun.

Dude was gonna fight bears and Werewolfs with a sword and shield. In his mind a single blow would kill him, this wasn't fun, this wasn't exciting or something to be taken lightly.

It was a life or death struggle, and just because Pyrrha gave him aura doesn't mean that mentality magically goes away. No to Jaune Grimm still are threat, it why he shows nervousness when fighting them unlike everyone else.

But he still does... everyone else fights Grimm like it's a game or chore. But to Jaune he is actually fighting for his life, these things scare him, fighting scares him, and mentally he is still very much leaning more towards civilian.

But it's because of that that when he fights he is being braver then all the others. Not to say their cowards though.

I think ultimately that's why I like Jaune most, because I never stop realizing that he is fighting in a darksouls game while everyone else feels like their in DMC.

But despite that he doesn't hesitate to fight beside them, to try and help and is willingly putting his life on the line when everyone else is just having a easy run of it.

And I'd argue this is why Ozpin made him leader.

[isak-dot-gov]

Spoilt Rotten

Pairing: KK Arnold x Reader

Word count: 1127

My Masterlist :)

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The sound of wrapping paper crinkling caught your attention as soon as you stepped into the living room. There it was again—a package. Big and bold, the box sat atop your coffee table, tied with a ribbon that probably cost more than your weekly grocery bill.

You sighed heavily, already knowing what this meant. KK had done it again.

It wasn’t like she meant to overwhelm you, but it seemed like every time you mentioned something, even in passing, KK found a way to get it for you. Whether it was a bag you admired while scrolling online, a pair of shoes you tried on once, or even a limited edition gadget that you could easily live without—KK made it her mission to track it down.

And here it was. Another luxury gift.

With a heavy heart, you stepped closer to the box, trying to fight off the small flicker of excitement. Of course, you wanted to see what was inside. KK always had impeccable taste, and deep down, it made you feel special that she cared enough to remember the things you liked. But it was still too much, too often.

You couldn’t shake the thought: How much did this cost her?

Sighing, you sat on the couch, running a hand through your hair as you stared at the package. You didn’t need this. You didn’t ask for this. But KK? She never listened when it came to gifts. 

Right on cue, the front door opened. KK strolled in with her usual confident energy, her presence filling the room as soon as she walked through the door. She was beautiful— an athletic build, with sharp features softened only by her easygoing smile. She carried herself like someone who could handle anything life threw at her, and when it came to you, she treated you like a queen.

"Hey, babe," she called, her voice lilting with amusement as she saw you sitting on the couch, your eyes on the package. "You seen it?"

"Of course I saw it," you said, shaking your head. "KK, seriously? I told you I don’t need all this stuff."

KK grinned, not at all fazed by your exasperation. She slipped off her jacket and walked over, sitting beside you. "But you want it, don’t you?"

You groaned softly, leaning back against the cushions. "That’s not the point. It’s expensive. I don’t want you spending all your money on things I don’t need."

KK leaned in closer, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear with the kind of gentleness that always made your heart flutter. "You deserve nice things. What’s the harm in that?"

You stared at her, feeling the familiar tug between guilt and affection. KK had always been this way—generous to a fault, especially when it came to you. It wasn’t about showing off or proving something; she just genuinely enjoyed spoiling you. It was her love language, but sometimes it made you feel like you couldn’t keep up. 

She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing playfully as she reached out to tug the ribbon loose on the box. "Aren’t you curious?"

“KK…”

“Just open it. I promise it’s something small this time.”

You raised an eyebrow, knowing she was probably lying. But the sparkle in her eyes made it hard to say no. So, with a reluctant sigh, you started peeling away the wrapping paper, half dreading and half excited about what you’d find inside.

Your fingers hesitated as the box revealed its contents. Inside, nestled in a bed of tissue paper, was the designer purse you had admired months ago—a limited-edition piece from a luxury brand you could never justify buying for yourself.

“Oh my gosh…” you breathed, your hands lightly grazing the buttery leather. It was even more beautiful up close, the detailing intricate, the quality undeniable. You looked up at KK, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and guilt. “You remembered this?”

KK’s grin softened into something more genuine, a flicker of pride in her eyes. “Of course I did. You couldn’t stop talking about it for days.”

You swallowed hard, guilt gnawing at you again. “But this must have cost a fortune, KK. You really didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to.” Her voice was firm but kind, her hand coming up to rest on your knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I don’t care about the price, babe. I just want you to have the things that make you happy. You work so hard, and you never let yourself have nice things. So I’ll do it for you.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, emotions swirling inside you. KK always made it sound so simple, but the truth was, it wasn’t easy for you to accept this kind of generosity. It felt unfair, like you weren’t pulling your weight in the relationship.

“I don’t want you to think you have to buy me things to make me happy, though,” you said softly, placing the purse back in the box. “I already have everything I need with you.”

KK’s eyes softened, and she leaned in closer, her arm wrapping around your shoulders as she pulled you into her side. “I know that, love. But it’s not about having to buy it. It’s just… my way of showing you how much I care. If something makes you smile, then it’s worth it to me. You don’t have to feel bad about it.”

You rested your head against her shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breathing. KK had this way of making you feel safe and loved, even when your thoughts were tangled up in guilt. She was so confident, so sure of herself—and, more importantly, of her love for you. 

After a long pause, you sighed, letting the tension drain out of you. “You’re too good to me, you know that?”

KK chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “You deserve it, baby.”

You couldn’t help but smile at her confidence, at the way she always made you feel like the centre of her universe. “Just… maybe next time, talk to me before you go spending crazy amounts of money?”

KK raised an eyebrow, clearly teasing. “We’ll see.”

You gave her a playful nudge, and she laughed, wrapping you tighter in her embrace. Even though you knew KK wasn’t going to change anytime soon, part of you was okay with that. She was stubborn, but her love for you was unshakable. And, in the end, that was worth more than any gift she could ever buy.

As you leaned back into her, the two of you relaxing in each other’s presence, you realised that maybe being spoilt wasn’t so bad after all—especially when it came from someone like KK.

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