#I don’t really care to speculate about their sexuality but I gotta say I have 100% success rate in clocking people irl

[thealogie]

not an rpfer or a truther i don't think in real life MS and DT would ever fuck because they have wives and kids and so on and they're heterosexual. but i think there's a parallel universe where they do fuck, but they don't act together in this one. either one or the other

I really do not think they’re fucking but I’ve known theatre people who are just a little in love with their cast mates and not 100% straight and if I had to guess I’d guess that’s what’s happening here. There are many such cases

[dinarosie]

I read your post about Regulus but I gotta say, I’m not totally on board. Just ‘cause he was the ‘good son’ doesn’t really mean he was loved, you know? A lot of the time, being the perfect heir—joining the Death Eaters keeping up the family’s image is more about duty than being genuinely cared for. It doesn’t mean he was happy even if his parents were proud of him for it.

I believe the reason fans create headcanons for characters like Draco and Regulus, imagining that they joined the Death Eaters due to torture or coercion, is because they don’t have a clear understanding of Voldemort's position within the pure-blood society. They assume that from the beginning, Voldemort was seen as a snake-like, crazed terrorist and murderer by the wizarding world.

But as I’ve explained in this post, Voldemort, especially during the First Wizarding War, was a charismatic and influential leader, almost like a celebrity. He rose to power with promises of restoring greatness to the wizarding world, and as mentioned in the books, much of the wizarding society supported him. For many, especially the youth, joining the Death Eaters wasn’t seen as shameful or horrifying. On the contrary, it was exciting and prestigious, like getting accepted into an elite university.

Regarding your argument, I think fans are free to create their own theories and headcanons about their favorite characters. However, it's important to remember that these are just fan interpretations, not canon. It doesn’t make sense to compare fan-made headcanons with the canon traits of another character like snape. We could create similar headcanons for any character. For instance, we could speculate that Harry Potter suffered sexual abuse from his uncle, or that Percy Weasley was the result of an unwanted pregnancy, which is why Molly never seemed to favor him. But in the end, what truly matters in analyzing canon characters is the author's intent and the clues provided in the actual story. This is especially important when discussing side characters like Regulus Black, where we have fewer details. We need to focus on the purpose the author had in creating the character and the information given in the story.

J.K. Rowling didn’t intend for Regulus Black to be a victim of abuse or neglect. She didn’t suggest that he joined the Death Eaters because his mother tortured him with the Cruciatus Curse. If that had been the case, Rowling would have left clear hints throughout the seven books. But that’s not the story she wanted to tell. Instead, she portrayed Regulus as the favored son of a fanatical pure-blood family, loved and admired by his parents, to the point that it made his older brother jealous. She wanted to show how deeply Voldemort’s ideology had permeated wizarding society, to the extent that young people idolized him like a celebrity. The fact that Voldemort choose his house-elf for a dangerous mission tells us a lot. It shows how much Voldemort trusted him and how far Regulus was willing to go to prove his loyalty. But as Rowling mentioned in interviews, Regulus wasn’t ready for the harsh reality of the Death Eaters’ world. He quickly realized that the real Voldemort was far from the idealized image he had in his mind. At that moment, Regulus transformed from a misguided teenager into a brave man, trying to make amends for his mistake by sacrificing his life.

Reducing his story to that of an abused teenager takes away the depth of his character and diminishes the impact of his redemption arc.

[bengiyo]

Be My Favorite Ep 6 Stray Thoughts

Last week, this show put me on my back foot when it asked me to be kind. So much of last week was about people choosing to be kinder to one another and that choice paying forward for the recipient. Kawi is building a genuine friendship with Pear. Pisaeng went to a gay club for the first time and saw Max. Max read the baby gay for being self-centered, but then softened it with good advice. Kwan encouraged Not to give Kawi just a little bit of encouragement after asking him to sign the book she had already panned. They subverted the rooftop confession by having Kawi gently turn Pisaeng down. Kawi actually sang and now is part of a band. I’m actually invested in this show now. Was not expecting that.

Hey, Kawi’s smiles are starting to look genuine.

It’s sad that this is probably the first time Kawi ever expressed his worries about his dad.

I know we better save Kawi’s dad’s life. Kob Songsit is one of the most reliable BL dads.

I like that Max is a prickly queer. You gotta establish boundaries with baby gays because they can glomp on way too hard.

Oh. I see. Pisaeng’s family isn’t just rich, they’re “comfortable.” Curious how Max will feel about Pisaeng having a complicated relationship with his mom, or the reveal that anyone with that level of wealth is involved in crimes.

Pear’s house was used in Dark Blue Kiss and Bakery Boys I’m pretty sure.

I am having a lot of feelings about this scene with Pear asking her dad to help Kawi’s. I’m sick, and one of my friends reached out to his doctor parents to get me into care. I don’t think I’d be alive without their help.

Oh, Kawi. Now is the time to be strong and tank the embarrassment. It isn’t bad that Pear knew what you wanted to ask. It’s actually good that Pisaeng told her. She was there as an advocate with you. The mission is your dad’s health, not your ego.

Okay, I do like this show finally acknowledging that all these arguments people have are so loud that other people definitely know what they’re saying. I love Max.

Max is speaking my thoughts. I will let him write the rest of this post.

“I will not apologize for doing what I thought was best to help you with a serious problem. However you feel about it, I will accept it,” is really something I think we could use more of in the West. I feel like we as Americans are obsessed with ‘winning the conversation’ as a concept, and I think it makes us inherently combative.

This Kawi reveal about the source of his anger is giving, “I’m angry at myself.”

Not sure where I sit on Pear and Not as a pairing.

I get how repressed Kawi is and everything, but don’t kiss a man who has confessed to you while you’re drunk. There’s no turning back now. And then he falls asleep! This messy spaghetti ass boy!

Pisaeng going from an emotionally-complicated queer encounter directly into a closeted conversation with his mom as he has to figure out in the morning how to explain Kawi’s presence is giving me intense emotional flashbacks.

Okay, this show broke me. Pisaeng is not stupid. Pisaeng has always known who he is. His mother manipulated him deep into the closet when he was 15, and he knows it. His mom is using his own community against him. Some of you may be shocked that his mom has gay people turning on each other, but there is a long history of the police infiltrating gay spaces and threatening people convictions to turn them into informants. This is the sickest thing I think we’ve seen in a long time from GMMTV. I am deeply appalled. I will have to blog about this because this is so evil. The weaponization of our own community into surveilling and reporting on each other makes me so angry. That she is also publicly progressive enough that a person like Max admires her also infuriates me.

Nevermind. Fuck Not. Why is he speculating about Kawi’s sexuality to Pear? This is not how you flirt.

Ah, we’re back to the time travel portion of the plot. I’m curious what Pisaeng does with this knowledge.

I like Pisaeng. Despite everything going on, he’s still focused on the important thing: Kawi’s dad.

I do think it was important for Kawi to speak directly to Pear’s dad about getting help for his father, and not letting it just be a favor Pear begged for.

I’m so glad Kawi went to Pear as well to apologize for running out on her. She’s incredibly understanding and I hope she finds happiness and fulfillment.

I often talk a lot about the relationship with gay boys and their moms, but I also have strong feeling about boys and their fathers. Kawi admitting that he feels no need to improve himself if his dad won’t get to see it hits me to my core. I love my dad. He and I get along great. I need to call him later today once I watch Strange New Worlds. I get this.

I don’t mind Pisaeng letting Kawi know he’s willing to wait for him to sort his feelings.

I am going to have to write a separate post at some point this weekend. I am not in the read headspace now to talk about the rage flowing through my veins right now at a businesswoman with political ambitions gaslighting her own son into staying in the closet, and then using her own queer employees to surveil him. For those of you new to marginalized spaces, enforcement organizations have infiltrated our spaces forever and turned our own people against us. This was especially easy queer spaces because white men were threatened with losing access to whiteness. I cannot overstate how evil this is and how unexpected it is for me to have a GMMTV show NOT from Golf going directly into this.

[cosmicoceanfic]

“Good for you,” Dean says approvingly.

“Which one?” Eileen asks. Dean shrugs, making an either/or gesture.

“Okay,” Sam says, trying to remember what equilibrium felt like. “But this is. This is weird, yeah? Like, this is weird.”

“It’s 2024, Sam,” Dean says, a little more aggressively than he has to. “People can be gay. Or queer. Or uh. Whatever the fuck it is you two are. Respectfully.”

“I don’t believe you’ve ever been respectful in your life,” Rowena says, with zero rancor. Dean, evidently deciding the better part of valor is not fucking talking, gives her a thumbs up.

“I don’t.” Sam squeezes his eyes shut for a second. “I don’t care that they’re- I care that it’s- that it’s them!”

“Eileen,” Rowena says, looking delighted in a way that’s spawning significant dread in Sam’s stomach. “Are you paramours with Samuel?”

“Aw, paramours,” Eileen says. She smiles with that little dimple that normally distracts Sam to no end but he’s already pretty distracted. “I’ve just been saying we’re, y’know-“ she makes a sign Sam doesn’t know yet but presumes is lewd. “Shacking up together.”

“Ah,” Rowena says, smiling fondly. “How American of you.”

“Can we just,” Sam says, trying to gain control. “Can we just. Please. Can we just.”

“Why are you having a hard time with this?” Eileen asks.

“I believe he’s having a hard time due to his latent sexual feelings towards Rowena,” Cas interrupts.

Eileen bursts into laughter while Sam wonders if he could knock Dean out long enough to kill Cas and get a head start. Probably, right? He’s just gotta hit him hard enough and Sam’s always ready to throw down with Dean on principle. “Wait, really? You wanted to have sex with Rowena?”

“I didn’t.” Sam’s life has never once been fair. “I didn’t not want that.”

Rowena is now eyeing both Eileen and Sam entirely too speculatively. “You still could, you know.”

“Yeah, Sammy,” Dean says, who looks like he is enjoying himself entirely too much, and is strengthening his desire to hit him over the head with something heavy. “Get in on the free love. Spirit of the Sixties.”

Sam gives Dean his most withering look. He feels like its power is decreased by the frazzlement he’s dealing with. “Can you just be fucking normal about this?”

“Only one not being normal about this is you, dude.”

“I,” Sam seethes. “Am so normal.”

They fall into silence. Rowena is still giving Sam and Eileen that look. Sam wonders if she’d stop if he asked nicely. She’d probably just look at them even harder.

“If we’re dropping queercentric bombshells,” Dean says abruptly. “Cas and I are gay for each other.”

“We all know you and Cas are gay for each other,” Sam, Eileen, and Rowena say at the same time.

Dean gives them a pfft. “Whatever.” He picks his jacket off the back of his chair. “Cas and I are gonna go interview the locals. Rowena, try and figure out that spell before we get back. And, uh. Put a sock on the door or something, if…” He gestures vaguely. “Yeah.”

Cas gives them a regal nod before following Dean out the door. Rowena, Eileen, and Sam all stare at each other.

“Well,” Rowena says, finally. “It must be said, Samuel, that you have excellent taste.”

Never once.

thinking abt how rowena and eileen never met (from what i remember?) and i think it would just be sooo funny if when they finally meet they're like "ohhh heyyyy ;)" and sam is like. "what. you two know each other?" and they're like "yea we had a thing." and sam is like What. and they're like "yea ages ago. it was casual." and sam's like "why didn't you two ever Say you knew each other????" and they're like *shrugs* how was i supposed to know the eileen / rowena you were talking abt was THAT eileen / rowena. there are many irish eileens samuel. rowena is such a witchy name, sam. could've been anyone.

[managedmischiefs]

north//chapter ten

genre: angst

pairing: season ten spencer reid x female oc

warnings: panic attack, talk of maeve and that whole situation, death, mention of drugs and relapse

word count: 9.8k

summary: spencer gets to see another part of amelia’s ugly side and amelia gets more than she bargained for when she steps onto her balcony

also i just wanted to say that the panic attack described in this chapter is based off of my experience with panic attacks. nobody has the same experience, but this is based off mine. also part two, i don’t know how medication for panic attacks really work, what i wrote is literally based off my experience with migraine medication. so if it’s not accurate, then i apologize. i also apologize for taking so long to write this. school was a lot and my mental health sucks. but it’s here now!! enjoy

AMELIA

"Yaz, if you don't stop moving, I'm going to purposely poke your fucking eye out!"

"It's not my fault! Quinn keeps nudging me!"

"No, I'm not!"

I roll my eyes at the two girls in front of me, flicking my wrist to put the final touches on Yaz’s makeup. "You two need to shut up." I then grab Quinn’s shoulders and force her to move against the wall, right next to Yaz. They continue to quietly bicker with each other.

"So," Frankie speaks up from across my studio, lounged back in a bean bag chair, fiddling away with a camera of his own, "Lia, you're coming up on one year with your genius doctor FBI boyfriend, right?"

"Mhm," I hum, too focused on painting my friends' bodies to give a full and coherent answer.

"Do you guys have plans yet? Dinner? Movie? I don't even know what you guys do as dates. In fact, I don't really know much about this guy at all. Are we even sure he exists?" Michael teases, waving around his bottle of beer. Quinn squirms away from my grasp to take a sip of his beer and only comes back when I tug on her hand. 

"No plans yet," I mumble, biting my tongue for a moment as I focus on getting the swirls of blue and yellow just right. If the painting isn’t absolutely perfect then I’ll never be happy with the way the pictures come out. And if I’m not happy with the pictures that come from today then that just means I wasted my time today. "We don't make plans in advance, really. His job doesn't allow for that."

"His job doesn't allow for that?" Dani scoffs. "Stupid excuse. Horrible excuse. Men are trash. How can you be sure that all the time he’s spending ‘at work’ and not with another girl? Or maybe another guy? I don’t know, I don’t judge. Maybe he’s-"

"Dani," I hiss, twisting my head to send her a pointed look, "he's an FBI agent. He hunts down serial killers for a living. He travels for work on a whim and it’s not a big deal. He’s not gay and it’s rude to speculate about someone’s sexuality, especially if you’ve never met them."

"But don't you want him around him more?" Frankie jumps up from his seat and throws his arm around my shoulder, effectively pulling away from my work. He thinks that grabbing me will diffuse the situation, bring some humor, keep me from getting too upset. But it actually does all the opposite and I can feel a ball of heat growing and swelling in my stomach.

I’ve been friends with this bunch since college. We all went to Carnegie Mellon together and even lived in a house together in junior and senior year, but they aren’t always the best of friends. Clearly. They can be quite judgemental and exclusive when it comes to people outside of our friend group. Jenna and I commonly find ourselves sharing looks across rooms when one of our friends says something rude or stupid. They’re not the best, but we’ve been through so much together and they are all I have.

I push Frankie away from me as best as I can. "Do you guys just not like him because he's a federal agent?" The room goes silent and that's enough of an answer for me. I scoff, moving across the room to grab some more paint and squirt it into my palette. I wind up putting too much on my palette and groan, screwing off the top of the paint tube and trying to scoop the extra paint back in. The longer I try, the less gets back inside the tube and the more my frustration starts to grow, the more tears well up in my eyes. "You're complaining about my boyfriend who you've never met just because he works for the FBI. Ridiculous. Unfair."

"We get arrested all the time and all we do is spray paint empty brick walls," Dani protests, and, again, judging by the silence of the others in the room, I know that they have no problems with what Dani is saying. "It's bullshit! We should be able to express ourselves creatively without having to do art in the middle of the night and worry about being thrown in a holding cell."

"First of all; express yourself creatively on a canvas, not on someone’s property. Second; I can promise that you’re not getting arrested by federal agents. You’re getting arrested by cops and my boyfriend is not a cop," I growl at my supposed friends. I don't get angry easily. In fact, I'm a very patient person and I've been told that by many people on many occasions. My first instinct is to never get mad. Anger doesn’t get anyone anywhere. I prefer to have conversations instead of screaming matches and to hear out the other side's argument. But this is different. This is Spencer we’re talking about. I love Spencer more than anything and since meeting him, I know I'd do anything to protect him, even if that means arguing with my friends on his behalf. It’s not fair for them to be making these judgments about him. "You get arrested by Virginia Police so if you wanna hate anyone then hate them. Don't you dare all go hating my boyfriend for no reason. Don't hate him when you've never met him."

I throw my palette onto a table, not caring about paint splatter, and grab my phone, leaving my studio and heading into the fresh air. My heart is pounding against my tightening chest as I lean against the brick wall and slide down to an incredibly uncomfortable crouching position, tucking my head between my knees. The stance almost instantly makes my back ache and my neck sting but I ignore it. Maybe I deserve the pain. My breathing quickly gets more and more shallow and my head goes light. I try to lift my head to bring sunlight into my eyes, but my head seems far too heavy to move. I reach for my phone and it slips right out of my fingers when they tremble too much for me to get a grip on the thin metal. This feeling is helpless, painful, too familiar. I can’t seem to get a grasp on myself and I’m spiraling out of control more and more by the second. Every gasp for breath turns into a sob and every attempt to move my head turns into overwhelming shame when I notice people passing by are staring at me and whispering.

It's almost perfect that my phone starts to buzz on the ground and I manage to open my eyes enough to see that Spencer is calling me. I attempt another deep breath to calm myself down but it doesn't work and it only makes my grip on reality dwindle. It's getting harder to breathe and my eyes are stinging with tears. With every pounding beat of my heart, my chest gets tighter and tighter and tighter until it feels like someone has successfully squeezed my lungs flat. 

The buzzing of my phone should bring me back to reality but it just makes it worse. It’s an annoying, persistent sound that just won’t stop. It won’t stop. It just won’t stop. I want to answer, I need to answer, but I just wish the sound would stop. The way to get it to stop is to answer. Just answer. It’ll stop if you answer. You’ll feel better if you answer. I slam my hand down on the ground and grope the floor until I manage to grab my phone and bring it up to my ear.

"Hi, love," Spencer's chipper voice comes through the receiver, none the wiser to my current situation. He's been away on a case since early yesterday morning, having woken me up while getting dressed, kissing me goodbye, and leaving my apartment to get to the BAU. I would kill to have him here right now. Maybe he could talk me down and reteach me how to breathe. Maybe he could reinflate my lungs and kiss my hands until they stop trembling. 

I try to answer, but nothing coherent comes out. I let out a strangled sob, my fingernails digging into my knee so hard that I worry I might draw blood. My inability to communicate is frustrating and that ball of heat in my stomach rises up to my chest. The trembling overpowers me and I almost drop my phone again. 

"Amelia? What's wrong? Are you okay? Talk to me," Spencer says quickly, and it's only followed by more choked wheezes from me. "You've gotta breathe, okay? Take really deep breaths for me. In through your nose and out from your mouth.”

His instructions seem simple enough to do. Just breathe. That’s all I have to do. It’s simple. Just breathe. I open my mouth to try to speak to him, to tell him what’s happening, even though I’m pretty sure he can tell, but all that comes out is fragments of words and whimpers.

"It’s okay, you’re okay. You don’t need to speak. In through your nose, out from your mouth, remember? Can you try that for me?" I’m not sure how long I’m sitting there for, on the phone, trying to focus on my boyfriends’ voice as he tries to calm me down. It feels like I’m sitting for a few hours, but my tiny grasp on reality lets me know that it’s been ten minutes at the most. I just do what I can to focus on Spencer and what he is telling me to do and how I can calm down. I clench my fists and finally succeed in doing what he tells me to after a while, breathing heavily in through my nose, my chest burning as the heaving comes to a gradual stop. I breathe out and then repeat the process a few times. “There you go. You’re doing so well. I’m right here for you, okay? Take all the time you need.”

He continues to tell me sweet nothings and encourages me to breathe until my breathing has regulated and my head lays slack against my knees. Spencer lets just a few moments of silence go by to let me collect myself before he speaks again. “Are you feeling a little better now?” I gather enough energy, the last of it, to hum a confirmation. "Where are you right now?" Spencer asks next. Even just his voice calms me down. Maybe it's his experience with his job but he sounds so calm right now. Nobody in my life has ever been able to remain so calm during one of my panic attacks, leaving me to cry and heave and occasionally faint in private. But Spencer's voice sounds so soothing and calm and low that just him speaking helps me more than anything. More than any useless, overwhelming, smothering hug ever has. 

"Studio.”

"Okay. You should get home and get some rest. " 

"Mhm.”

"You shouldn't drive. I don't know if you did, but either way, please don't drive. Take the train or call someone to drive you home," Spencer pleads. "I was calling to tell you that we're on our way home. We closed the case and we're leaving in a few minutes for the airport, but don't wait for me. You need to go home and get rest. Panic attacks are really taxing and you need to re-energize. I'll come over when I get back but you need to get home."

"Amelia?" I hear Jenna's voice approaching me but I don't even bother to look up. "Are you okay?" 

I've exhausted my energy on speaking just those few words to Spencer so when Jenna gets close enough to me, I just lift the phone up for her. She crouches down beside me and grabs my phone, wedging it between her shoulder and her ear as she pushes my hair out of my face. I try to lean away from her touch but I can’t get very far. "Who is this? Oh, hi, Spencer. This is Jenna. She's right next to me. I can definitely bring her home. Don't worry, I'll get her home and I'll stay with her until you come around, it's no problem. I'll take her phone and let you know when I get her home. Okay, bye."

I finally lift my head and look at Jenna, watching her tuck my phone into her pocket, giving me this stupid, pitiful smile that I’ve seen far too many times in my life. A half smile that says, it sucks that you’re going through something but I only kind of care. "Mr. Genius says I gotta bring you home and keep you safe until he comes over and I don't feel like ending up in prison, so let's go, babe." I don’t have it in me to correct her to day Doctor Genius instead of Mister Genius. Jenna holds her hands out to help me up.

I bring my shaking hands up to hers and let her pull me to my feet and lead me over to her car, feeling weak and useless as she pulls the seatbelt over my chest. I pout as she dotes over me, humming casually to herself just so she can make this situation not so tense, but it just makes it seem like she doesn’t care. "Okay," Jenna says, hand poised on the passenger side door, "I'm gonna go kick everyone out of your studio and then we'll get going. Sit tight."

///

"Hi, Spencer, I'm Jenna,"

"Hi, Jenna. Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's sleeping on the couch. She didn't even wanna go upstairs to bed so she asked me to put on a record and she just passed out on the couch."

Everything sounds foggy as I wake up what I assume is hours later in an uncomfortable position, curled up on my couch. My head is pounding and my eyes feel puffy and I'm now regretting not forcing myself to get into bed. I would have much rathered waking up with my duvet wrapped around me and my head on Spencer’s pillow. Waking up on this stiff couch with my toes virtually frozen and my head twisted uncomfortably on the armrest isn’t how I wanted to wake up post-panic attack. 

I open my eyes just in time to see Spencer setting his go-bag down beside the coffee table, sending me that same stupid, pitiful smile. "Hi," he whispers, coming to sit on the floor in front of me. He raises his hand to drag his fingertips along my cheekbone and the soft touch makes my eyes flutter closed. I’ve gotten used to being without him when he’s away on cases, and having Spencer with me makes all the separated days easier. I know that the moments like this make up for the times I lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling, because I can’t sleep if his arms around me and if I can’t hear his heartbeat. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Mm," I hum, but it's not much of an answer, not a satisfying one, at the least. 

"It's good that you got some sleep but you gotta have something to eat too. Do you want me to order something?" I nod slowly at his suggestion that I couldn’t care less about. I just want his hands on me. "Okay, I will. Sit tight, I'll be right back."

A whine falls from my lips as I reach my hand out for his, hoping to keep him from leaving. I just need his touch and his love and his affection to feel better. I don’t need sleep or food or anything he could possibly suggest that helps a person relax after a panic attack, based on this study I read. I love his facts but I just want him to hold me and tell me that everything is going to be okay, even if it doesn’t feel like it will. The boiling hot baths I usually take after a panic attack never do the trick. Nothing does the trick like physical affection does.

"Don't go," the words could barely be considered words, especially not after I mumble them through almost closed lips.

"I’m not leaving," Spencer crouches down again and presses a kiss to my forehead, and I’m sure he realizes that a kiss was the wrong move because I just keep trying to pull him closer. “I just wanna order you something to eat, okay? Let me bring you upstairs and get you in bed and then I’ll call for something. Is that okay?”

Spencer is sitting up on his knees before I even try to answer because even though he's posed a question, he doesn't need an answer. He knows how to help me from the studies he reads and he knows what needs to be done and he's relatively stubborn. So despite how my body feels heavy and how I wish I could just melt into the couch cushions with my arms wrapped around my boyfriend, I force myself to sit up. Spencer scoops me up and carries me up the stairs, setting me down in bed and tugging the duvet all the way up to my chin.

Spencer goes a bit overboard with tucking me in, but I don’t mind, as long as his hands are on me. And he is happy with his work, he finally takes off his peacoat and sets it on the edge of the bed. "I'm just gonna go run downstairs and order something and make some tea, okay? Did you take your medication?" He turns away from me and goes towards the stairs, digging his phone out of his pocket.

"Huh?"

Spencer halts himself from walking down the stairs, turning his chin over his shoulder. "Your medication," he turns his body towards me. "You know, for your panic attack?"

I shake my head, eyebrows furrowed so much that it makes my headache worse. "No, no, I don't have any."

My fuzzy brain can't exactly decipher the look on Spencer's face, but he turns his back to me yet again and rushes down the stairs. I let out a hum at his confusing reaction, but it turns into a disappointed whine as he gets further and further away from me. So, still in my post-panic attack state, I reach for Spencer's coat for some sort of comfort.

As I tug on it, something falls out of the pocket. I blindly reach for it and have every intention of tucking it back into the pocket it came from, but the cool metal of the object heightens my senses, as if the object brings me back down to earth. I hold Spencer's jacket to my chest as I lay back down against my pillows, looking down at the metal circle in my hand. There's a triangle on the front- or maybe the back?- with a Roman numeral one on it, with the words unity, service, and recovery around the three sides. I turn it over in my hand and find a compass rose with only north labeled.

"Amelia?" My head pops up when I tune into Spencer's footsteps on the last stair, his phone in his hand and his untied converse in the other. He drops his shoes on the floor and then leans against the wall, his eyes traveling down to the floor instead of on me. I can feel his shame from all the way across the room and how his embarrassment starts to consume him. He instantly shuts himself off from me and it’s so disheartening to see how easy it is for him to do so. 

"It fell out," I hold it out to him, despite our distance. "What did you order?"

Spencer doesn't move as I hold the medallion out to him, but all he does is tuck his hands in his pocket and study the patterns on his socks. "You don't wanna know what it is?"

I drop my hand against the bed and sigh, having used too much energy to keep my arm up for longer than two seconds, nuzzling my cheek against Spencer's jacket and trying to get a whiff of his cologne. If he won’t come to me then I’ll have to get a piece of him in my bed, even if it’s just the scent on his jacket. I need his comfort. "I know what it is, dove."

He takes a long breath and then walks over, taking the medallion out of my hand and shoving it in his pocket. "Pizza. I'm gonna go change and I'll be right back."

I hadn't even realized he had brought his go-bag upstairs at some point, but I only see it when he carries it into the bathroom. He doesn't shut the door all the way and I find myself wondering why. Maybe he doesn't want to completely shut himself away from me because he can tell I need him close. Or maybe because he didn’t want to rebuild his emotional walls around me, and closing the bathroom door would separate us. But I don’t have the time to come to a clear and coherent hypothesis before he has returned.

He's in a tee shirt and plaid pajama pants when he returns, dropping his bag onto the floor and letting out a heavy sigh. I watch him as he walks around the bed to grab his shoes and begins the process of shoving them into his bag, even though he doesn't need to. He knows he doesn’t need to clean his stuff up immediately. But I notice his medallion in his hand, squeezed between his pointer and middle fingers, and it makes me call out to him. His head whips over to me and I realize I have nothing to say. I need him beside me but he clearly has so much going on in his head and in all the time we've been together, I've never seen his medallion. That makes me nervous. Is this why he's acting like this? Is he thinking about getting his hands on a drug that will ruin his life?

I have nothing to say. But Spencer is staring at me, waiting for me to ask whatever question he thinks I’m needing to ask, as I clutch his jacket like my life depends on it, eyes half-closed as I start to struggle to breathe again. I open my mouth but nothing comes out and a tear drips down my cheek.

Spencer moves to kneel on the bed, pulling his jacket out of my hands and replacing the fabric with his body. "Hey, I'm right here, Lia, just breathe. Sit up for me, sweetheart," He places his hands on my waist and helps me sit up, coaxing my head between my knees. He somehow knows exactly what to do, despite not being able to see me during my previous attack. He knows just how softly I need to be touched and what volume to speak at without overwhelming me. "It's okay, it's okay, I'm right here, don't worry. I don’t want you to get worked up again." I manage to nod, and he kisses my forehead as a reward. Spencer just keeps holding me and whispering praises, tucking my head under his chin and rubbing my back with a feather light touch.  “There you go. There’s my girl.”

“I’m okay,” I whisper, but it’s more for myself than for him. 

“Yeah, you are,” he affirms. "Will you talk to me about these attacks and how I can help you?" His sweet voice is so buttery and smooth that I get lost in it, eyes fluttering and almost completely missing his question. I just want him to keep talking, to read me poetry or tell me random facts that I’ll probably never need to know. I just want him to talk, and talk, and talk, and break me away from the prison in my mind. I just want him to distract me.

“Um,” I lean into his touch when he brings his hand into my hair, scratching me behind my ears like a cat. But when I manage to open my eyes and look at him, he’s giving me such a serious look, one that says he means business, and I know that there’s no room for jokes or wit. “I don’t know. I’ve mostly dealt with panic attacks alone. I just let them happen and wait for them to be done.”

Spencer’s eyes widen in surprise but he quickly tries to hide his reaction, clearing his throat as a distraction, but it’s nowhere close to this distraction I had hoped for. “So you don’t know any coping mechanisms or take any medication for panic attacks?” I shake my head no. “Have you ever gone to a doctor or a therapist about this?”

Definitely not the distraction I was hoping for. I reach for the duvet and pull it over my head, deciding to ignore him. I manage to crawl out of Spencer’s lap and curl up on my pillow with my back to him, earning a defeated sigh from my boyfriend beside me. He takes a breath to speak but then the doorbell rings and I can only assume that means that dinner is here. Without a word spoken, Spencer climbs off the bed and goes to answer the door. I hear his chatting quietly with the delivery person before his sock-covered footsteps echo back up the stairs, and he returns with a pizza box.

Spencer just casually suggesting I go to a doctor or a therapist is so obnoxious and annoying and I truly can’t remember a time in our relationship when I was this mad at him. He talks as though a doctor's visit will solve all my problems and if taking a pill will turn me into the healthy, stress-free, mental illness-free girl that I want to be, but never have been, and never will be. I spent my childhood taking care of myself and my brother and I can keep doing that as an adult. I’ve gotten this far in my life, farther than I thought I would, so I’m not going to fix something that isn’t broken. 

Spencer sits at the foot of the bed and sets the pizza box in the middle of the bed, not saying a word as he opens it up and separates the slices. I sit up slowly, rubbing my eyes as I tuck my legs underneath me. I reach for a piece of pizza and lean over the cardboard so I don't get the bed messy. If the bed gets messy and crumby then Spencer won’t be able to sleep tonight, knowing that there’s particles of food all over the duvet. He seems to be on the same train of thought because he refuses to move the piece of pizza in his hand away from the box. If I wasn’t so upset, I’d be telling him how cute he is and finding his cleanliness endearing and suggesting that we eat at the table downstairs instead of my bed. But the tension is so thick that I could cut it with a knife, and I don’t have the energy to ease it. But apparently, Spencer does.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Spencer asks casually, keeping his eyes down as he takes another bite of his pizza. "The way you talk,” he pauses and considers his words very carefully, “you've clearly had panic attacks before."

"It's not a big deal."

"Amelia," the stony, serious tone of his voice makes my head pop up. He looks annoyed, as if he doesn't believe what I'm saying. I haven’t yet learned that lying to a profiler is useless. "You had a panic attack on a public sidewalk and it was so bad that you went nonverbal. Panic attacks happen to a lot of people but they're serious and debilitating and you should get treatment for them."

"Don’t tell me what I should do. I don't need treatment," I answer far too quickly. "I know you have your degree in psychology or whatever but I don’t need to hear it. I’ve taken care of myself for this long and I actually happen to think I’ve done a pretty good job at it, so I don’t need medication or therapy to interfere.”

Realization flashes on Spencer's face and he puts his piece of pizza down, leaning his elbows against his knees. "Seeking out help doesn’t make you weak."

I scoff and roll my eyes into the back of my head, but maybe that's just to avoid eye contact or to repress the tears that burn at my ducts. "That's not what this is about."

"I didn’t mention anything about my degree, Amelia,” Spencer snaps. “And all I’m trying to do is help you. You can go to a therapist and discuss coping mechanisms and figure out why you even have them or go to a doctor and get medication that will regulate attacks and maybe you'll get something to take after you get attacks, it'll be so much-"

"No!" I shout, cutting him off, my hands balled into fists as I struggle to rein in all the nasty things I want so badly to say, but that I know he doesn’t deserve. "I won't! I'm not! I'm fine without it! I've gone my whole fucking life like this and I don't need to be fixed!"

I decide it's the appropriate time to throw a temper tantrum and scramble off the bed, not even bothering to grab a jacket or a blanket or shoes or anything as I stomp down the stairs and throw open the door to the balcony. It's colder than I remember it being and the air instantly seizes up my bones, but I ignore the feeling as I close the door behind me. I lean against the railing and let a few tears silently slip down my cheeks, not bothering to wipe them and instead letting them trail down my neck and dampen the neckline of my crewneck. Fresh air used to always calm me down, but now, being alone on a balcony after fighting with Spencer, the air only feels suffocating.

A few minutes pass before I head the door slide open and Spencer steps out. I expect him to speak right away, to use his profiling skills to defuse the situation, but he doesn't. He drapes a blanket over my shoulders and as frustrated as I am at him and at the world and at myself, the tiny gesture makes me feel better. I'm craving his touch yet again and I wish he would just wrap his arms around me, but yet again, he doesn't. I tug the blanket as tight as I can around my shoulders and imagine it's his arms. His arms that are so close to me but feel like they are miles away.

"I've been a hypocrite." Spencer's voice is quiet, but not in the same way as it was during my attacks. No, before he was quiet for my sake. But now he seems quiet because he can't bear to speak any louder. Like if he hears his own words, he will combust and break down. "I kept something from you too."

I turn around and find that he's sitting down in one of the armchairs, another blanket wrapped around his shoulders. I, yet again, notice that his medallion is in his hand. But he's not trying to hide it, he's staring right down at it.

"Does it have anything to do with your medallion and why it was in your pocket?"

"Partly," he answers, and then looks up at me, pretty brown eyes already glistening with tears. If I wasn’t so upset, if Spencer wasn’t so upset, if the tension hadn’t carried outside, I would have poked his perfect nose and told him how cute he is when the tip of his nose gets red from the cold. My eyes are just focused on the medallion though, being passed between his fingers with expertise and never slipping out. "I'm clean, I promise. I wouldn't risk breaking my sobriety. I have too much to lose now. I've got you, and my job, and my team- my friends, Henry. But, um, yeah, there's something that I didn't tell you and I know that I should."

Partially born from my own selfish need for affection, coupled with Spencer's broken down state, I go and sit on his lap. He happily lets me do so, draping one hand over my thigh, holding the medallion there. I rest my head on his chest and wait for him to feel comfortable enough to start his story. I can feel his heart pounding against his chest and I stare down his hand, tap-tap-tapping on the arm of the chair. His nervousness is just as palpable as the tension.

"So, um, do you remember when we first met? You always like to point out how you're not the profiler here but did you happen to notice how nervous I was?"

"Mm," I hum, racking my brain for the memories of our first few coffee dates. I remember his strained smiles and his stuttered out words. I think back to us spending Christmas together and how, later on, he just blurted out an invitation to be his girlfriend that lacked finesse and confidence. He has always been nervous around me, but I always just thought that he was nervous with new relationships. It never crossed my mind that there was a reason other than anxiety. "Of course. The first day we met, I don't even think you took your bag off, right? I just thought dates made you nervous."

"Well, yeah, that's kinda true," Spencer sighs and when he tilts his head down, his lips brush against my temple. His warm lips bring a shiver down my spine and he holds me tighter against his cold body. "The truth is, about two years before I met you, I had a girlfriend, her name was Maeve. Our relationship wasn't really conventional. We, um,” he pauses and shifts his weight, “she was a geneticist and I saw her when I was having migraines, but then we started dating. We never met each other though."

His constant past tense is alarming. Was.

"We talked on the phone. She had a stalker from before I met her and she wanted to make sure that I didn’t get wrapped up in it. And we had to be safe so we only talked on pay phones. Only on Sunday's and never from the same phone twice. I thought I, um, I thought I loved her and then-" Spencer lets out a breath that sounds defeated, tired, helpless. He drops the medallion into my lap and his hands fly up to cover his face, another shaky breath falling from his lips. “I shouldn’t be telling you this when you're in such a fragile mental state. This is a lot of information and-”

"If you want to tell me then you can. I’m not a fragile little girl, I can take it. But if you don’t think you can then that’s okay too. I don’t need you to show me all the skeletons in your closet because you think you’ve been hypocritical.”

Spencer drops his hands, revealing his quivering lips and wet waterline. I return the medallion to the palm of his hand and close his fingers around it. "I mean,” he lets out the tiniest, saddest chuckle, “I was being hypocritical, being mad at you for keeping information a secret when I was doing the same.”

“Okay, maybe a little,” my slight teasing gets a more genuine laugh out of him, and he drops his forehead to my shoulder to hide it. “But it’s okay. I understand that there’s some things you don’t wanna share immediately.” 

Spencer keeps his head down, his hand in a tight fist around his medallion and the other on my waist, keeping me close. I can practically feel his fear and anxiety and his overwhelming pain through the tips of his fingers digging into my skin, and I want so badly to take it from him. I would gladly shoulder his pain so he doesn’t have to drag it around behind him like a suitcase with a broken wheel. But as badly as I want to, I can’t help him the way I want to and so I just need to comfort him to the best of my ability. 

"She got kidnapped and shot in front of me," he blurts out quickly, the memory obviously too painful to say gracefully. "I realized she was gone so the team investigated and we found Maeve and the unsub brought me inside where she was being held and had me see her for the first time ever and then killed herself and Maeve right in front of me and there was nothing I could do about it."

Sometimes I don't know what to say to Spencer. He sees the worst that society has to offer, and the worst took away the first woman that he loved. I don't always know how to comfort him. Sometimes he just wants to be held and would rather not verbalize his feelings. And although I don’t love it when he decides to not talk things out, cuddling and giving out kisses is easier than arguing with him and trying to get him to talk about things he doesn’t want to. So physical affection is easier. But right now he doesn't seem to want to be held and I don't know how to help him. He didn't want to tell me this but clearly, today hasn't gone how either of us has wanted it to go. I've been spontaneously panicking and he's now confessing that his girlfriend was killed. None of this is right.

It takes him a few minutes to start speaking again, but when he does, his voice is quiet. "I almost relapsed after that," his head finds home on my shoulder again, and his other arm wraps around my waist. He holds me tight against his chest, adjusting the blanket around me to make sure I’m always covered and warm. "When I first got clean, I brought my medallion with me everywhere I went. I couldn't leave the house without it. I brought it with me on cases, to the store, everywhere. Then time passed and I could leave without it, and I was really proud of that. But then Maeve died and suddenly it was like I was right back at square one. I couldn't go anywhere without it. I needed the reminder of all my hard work and dedication or else I would've easily relapsed."

"Is," my voice is shakier than I wanted it to be, "is there something that's making you wanna relapse now?"

"Stalking cases," he answers, and that's not at all the answer I was expecting. I’m not really sure exactly what kind of answer I was expecting, but it wasn’t stalking cases. "They're common and they're not always violent so we don't always investigate but when we do, I hate it. It’s like torture on those cases, just having to relive what happened with her. Hotch doesn't even let me take part in takedowns of stalking cases because we both know I wouldn't be stable if a hostage situation happened. So,” he tucks his head into my neck this time, and I can feel his lips on my skin, leaving light kisses to make up for the heavy topic, “yeah, that’s what I was keeping from you. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize, dove. I understand.”

I turn my head away from him and stare out at the city. The sun is setting and the sky is painted a pretty pink and purple, mixed together in a way I wish I could achieve in my work. But the people below pay no mind to it. They speed-walk to whatever their next destination is and keep their noses tucked in their phones, or to wave their hand for a cab and bark out orders and throw money at the person who spends their lives being chauffeurs to rude politicians and businessmen. Nobody cares to look up and admire the beauty around them, beauty that they won’t see some day. They don’t look up at the unnatural colors in the sky or check to see if the clouds have taken the form of a shoe or a candy wrapper. They just walk, and walk, and walk. They don’t care. Nobody ever cares. 

"I'm sorry," I choke out, tears suddenly pouring down my cheeks. I reach for Spencer’s hands, intertwining our fingers but keeping his arms around my waist. I don’t want to be without his comfort and his arms and his warmth. He seems to feel the same because he pulls me even closer somehow, my body completely flush against his. "I love you, Spencer, and you-” I hiccup, “fuck, you didn't deserve any of that."

"You're all I need in this life, Amelia. I didn't think I'd ever fall in love again but now I have you and," I can feel his hands shaking in mine, and although it’s hard to tell if it’s from the cold or from anxiety. "I just love you so much. Please don’t leave me."

"I’m never gonna leave you, Spencer Reid. Ever. I'm not going anywhere," I whisper, but I can't tell who it's a reassurance for. "I love you."

///

SPENCER

///

THE NEXT MORNING

///

No amount of nights turned into mornings at Amelia’s apartment could get me used to being woken up to sun beams in my eyes.

I scrunch up my face as the sunlight flows through the windows and almost blinds me. I roll over and reach towards Amelia's side of the bed, grabbing a fistful of sheets instead of a fistful of her. I let out a disappointed sigh and force my eyes open, popping one lid open to confirm my sad realization that I'm waking up alone. Now I'm understanding how Amelia feels when I have to leave for cases.

I can feel the heat blasting and it makes it bearable for me to exist in only my pair of pajama pants, so I don't bother to put a shirt on. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and check my phone, just to make sure there isn't a spontaneous case on a Saturday, and there thankfully isn't anything yet. So I run a hand through my hair that is probably wild and climb out of bed, making the trek down the occasionally terrifying floating stairs.

I pause on the last step when I peer into the kitchen, the dumbest smile appearing on my face when I locate my girlfriend. She's sitting on the counter in the kitchen with her legs up and crossed at the ankles, dressed in only an oversized white tee shirt and pale blue wool socks. Matching, unfortunately. She's wearing her normal butterfly necklace, I can see from here, but she's missing all of her piercings- nose ring and earrings. Her natural curls are out in full force and are only contained by one of her patterned scarves, wrapped around her head like a headband. She's holding an apple in one hand and she has a book resting in her lap but I can't quite see the spine to read the title. But this is one of the moments I'm thankful for my fancy memory, as Amelia calls it, because she looks so effortlessly stunning and perfect and beautiful that I'm glad I'll remember this moment forever.

I watch her for a moment. She wiggles her toes every few seconds and then takes a loud bite from the apple, flipping the page and darting her eyes across the lines. Effortless. Remarkable. I'm often blown away by her simple beauty. I wonder how she does it without trying. How she renders me speechless. How she makes me feel like a teenager in love. How she makes me feel like a lovesick puppy, galloping around at her feet with stars in my eyes. How she makes me feel like she's completely out of my league. How she makes me feel like I'm the luckiest man in the whole world.

When I decide that I have to get my hands on her, I step off the stairs. She still doesn't notice my presence, I credit that to my bare feet on the hardwood, and she only looks up when a floorboard creaks. She lifts her chin and reveals her stunning dimples, ocean eyes wide for me. "Morning!" she quips, tucking a bookmark into the page and setting her book aside. "Wasn't sure you were ever gonna wake up."

"I don't like waking up alone," I brush my fingertips along her leg as I walk closer, eliciting a shy giggle from Amelia. No matter how many times I touch her, she still gets shy about it. I peer over her legs and my eyebrows raise. "You're reading Rossi's book? What's that about?"

Amelia giggles, picking up the book and inspecting the cover. "It's more of a courtesy, actually. I bought all three books of his the other day and I'm planning on ripping out all the pages to use for a piece of art for my next exhibit. But I figured I'd read them first before I destroy them, you know? He saved my life as a kid so the least I can do is read his books before I destroy them."

"Hmm," it's not really at all the answer I was expecting. I watch her face as she plasters on a shy smile, kicking her feet like an excited child and clutching the book to her chest. I don’t have the heart to ask her any more questions about her decision to rip up Rossi’s books because I don’t want to wipe that smile off her face. "Interesting. Breakfast?"

"Not before you give me a kiss," Amelia's delicate voice balances out the horrors Rossi illustrates in his book as she brings her lips to mine. "If you're cooking, I don't care what you make."

"Sounds like a plan,” and just as I didn’t have the heart to question her art, I don’t have it in me to go further than an inch away from her lips before she decides it’s okay. So that leads to kissing for far too long, the book tumbling out of Amelia’s hands and onto her lap, my hands holding her jaw. Her lips are different in the morning, slightly chapped and not yet bleeding from being chewed relentlessly. But, for some reason, I prefer them like this. And I definitely prefer chapped lips to glossy lips that get all over my face and takes a makeup remover wipe to get rid of. I quickly flip through the last few images of Amelia in my head and notice she hasn’t worn lip gloss in a while. Maybe that’s for the better though. She won’t have to hear me complain and watch me rub at my lips and grimace when my hand gets sticky too.

“Okay, okay,” Amelia giggles, grabbing my hands and pushing them away, “let’s not get carried away. I am hungry.”

“Then why didn’t you make breakfast yourself?” I sass, turning on my heel to start collecting breakfast ingredients and feed my hungry lady. 

“Haha,” she snickers sarcastically, rolling her eyes at me. And a comfortable silence falls over us as I start cooking, occasionally glancing over to watch her thumb through the book. It etches a hopefully permanent smile onto my face.

"I do have a question, though," Amelia fiddles with the corner of a page, curling it between her finger and keeping her eyes down. I hum lazily in response, mixing pancakes batter, far too focused on making sure I get measurements correct to be able to make eye contact with her. "I don't wanna make you uncomfortable but your medallion- well, it," she sighs, obviously not able to find the words for what she wants to say.

It’s not my favorite topic of conversation so early in the morning, but I guess the sooner Amelia asks her questions and gets them out of her system, the sooner we can stop having conversations about my demons. "You can ask whatever you want to.”

"It's not a bad question, I don't think," she responds, and turns so her legs are swinging over the edge of the counter, facing me. "I'm just curious what the compass on the back means. It seems odd to me. I mean, the front says recovery and all but the back has a compass? I've never heard of these medallions having a compass on them."

"The designs differ," despite the relatively tame question, I busy myself by trying to create perfect circles with the batter on the hot skillet. She could've asked me about my experience with drugs and how it feels and she could have unknowingly triggered me, but no. She just wants to know about the compass. I guess that’s better than making me relive relapse or make me remember what a high feels like. "I've obviously been clean for more than a year, so the other medallions I have for other years have different designs on the back. But I always liked the one year medallion the best."

"Will you tell me why?" She presses gently, pulling her knees back up to her chest. I've seen her do this plenty of times, shut herself off from conversations, I mean, and I hate it when she does. On normal days, when she shuts herself off from conversations, I do what I can to put her at ease and get her to open back up. But if anyone should be shutting off from this conversation, it’s me. "You don't have to, if it makes you uncomfortable."

"Getting to one year is really hard," I admit quickly, keeping my eyes off her as I move the pancakes from the skillet to a plate. "So when I finally got to one year and I got the medallion, it was a huge accomplishment for me. And the compass? It’s just a thing that my program preached. North is always regarded as the right way to go, even though that’s not really true in theory, but I never pointed that out. But my program had us pick someone or something to represent north for each person. So that way, if anyone was ever going through withdrawals or cravings, we could think of that thing we chose and it would give us the motivation to get through a hard time. The thing would give us a reason to go north, the right way. Basically, the way to recovery. The way to go back home.”

“And what did you choose?”

“My job,” it’s such an unenthusiastic answer, no light or happiness in my voice. “My job was all I had at the time, but my job being my north never felt right. It was never really motivating. Maybe that’s why it was so hard to get past a year. I had nothing to look forward to.” 

"One more question," Amelia speaks, softer this time. "Can you come here?"

I look up and find that Amelia is resting her chin on her knees, giving me that same cute smile from before. I nod, scooping the last pancake off the skillet and putting it on the pile before walking over, dragging my feet. Amelia drops her legs and holds out her arms, wrapping them around my shoulders the moment I get close enough. I instantly melt into her embrace and tuck my face into her neck, feeling her fingers on the back of my neck, tracing small shapes and letters.

"I know that I didn't know you back then," Amelia whispers, warm breath tickling my skin, "but I'm proud of you. I'm proud that you're strong enough to keep your head up and stay clean. And thank you for trusting me with all this information. I love you so much."

My body is filled with that familiar warmth that I only feel when Amelia is around, and I can't stop the smile that comes to my face. The tears in my eyes dry up quickly at the praise. "Thank you for loving me."

"I always will," she pulls away and slides her hands up to my face, pointer fingertips tracing my jaw and up to my cheekbones. She swipes her finger across my bottom lip and then brings it up to my nose, poking it gently and giggling under her breath. She’s deep in thought, I can tell from the look on her face. "You know,” she smooths down my eyebrows and then her fingers follow my hairline all the way down to my jaw, “I’ll be your north," she suggests. "I know you always tell me that talking to me when you're on cases helps, but I wanna help you with everything, with every aspect of your life. I wanna help you with the ugliest parts of your life, and not just the ugly parts of your job. I'll be your north. I'll be your reason to come home and I'll be- I'll be like your guiding light. I'll be your lighthouse. I'll just," her hands halt on my cheeks and her legs twist around my waist, bringing our bodies flush, "I'll be your north."

My heart is pounding as I smile at her, the tears that had just dried up coming back tenfold. She's smiling her stupidly gorgeous smile but not even making eye contact, just staring down at my lips as she lets her brain settle from all the words she just vomited and as she holds herself back from her obvious impulse to actually kiss me. So I lean forward and peck her lips, untangling our limbs. "I'll be right back," I ignore the sting in my chest at the disappointment clear on her face as I pull completely away from her hold. But I kiss her cheek for reassurance before I disappear back upstairs, grabbing my go-bag.

I return to the kitchen with last year’s Christmas present in my hands and open up to the page I'm searching for, walking up to my girl. Her back is to me, pouring more batter onto the skillet to finish up breakfast. But the moment she puts the bowl of batter back on the counter, I swing my arms over her head and bring the sketchbook in front of her to show her a journal entry.

"I didn't always use it for sketches," I explain as she grabs the book from me, "but I use it. A lot. Read that entry," Amelia goes radio silent as she reads, and I rest my chin on my shoulder to read with her.

Amelia is my north. I always thought that I'd be alone for the rest of my life and I'd never fall in love again. I thought I had been scorned too hard and I'd never recover. But Amelia gives me a reason to want to go home. She gives me a reason to not make that reckless decision that comes to my mind in the field and she gives me a reason to not go out in the middle of the night and go searching for a new dealer. She gives me a reason to live and maybe it's wrong of me to rely so heavily on another person who could leave me just as easily as everyone else in my life has, but I don't care. She gives me a purpose and she's the reason I come home every day.

It's the little things she does that make me love her. I love seeing her face pop up on Garcia's video chats and I love seeing the snacks she leaves in my desk and the notes she leaves for me and how she always makes a point to clean my apartment when she's over. I've never met someone quite like her.

I didn't think I'd ever find a person to personify "north." I always thought that "north" would remain this mysterious entity that I would blindly chase after my entire life and remain following towards a life of recovery, or a life of constant relapse and pain. Or that I would just continue lying to myself and saying that my “north” was my job. But now I know that Amelia is that "north" that will always be by my side. As long as I have her, then I'll never have to chase after a nameless, faceless goal. I'll always have my north right beside me.

Amelia sniffles as she shuts the sketchbook, setting it gently on the counter. "Okay, fuck you for making me cry."

I toss my head back laugh, grabbing her waist to turn her around, taking the job of wiping her tears. "I’m sorry, love, that wasn't my intention."

"That was really sweet, dove," Amelia disregards her tears, throwing her arms around me and pressing her face into my neck. “I’m never gonna leave you, Spence. I want you to believe that. I love you so much. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know,” I clutch her waist in my hands as if that would keep her from leaving, “sometimes, I just feel helpless and unlovable and when I feel like that, I come to you.”

“Good. You’re not unlovable. I am so insanely in love with you and you’re never, ever getting rid of me.”

“Good,” I echo, pressing my lips to her shoulder and trailing kisses up her neck. “You’re-” Amelia’s stomach growling silences me, her cheeks turning pink as she ducks her head away. “Okay, alright, the mushy love fest is over. Eat some breakfast.”

“I’m sorry,” she giggles, turning in my arms to dish out pancakes for us, “I’m just really hungry and I wasn’t gonna make anything until you woke up. But the bottom line is that I love you and I’m always gonna be in your apartment, cleaning shit you don’t want me to and annoying the hell out of you.”

“Yeah, you definitely annoy me when you leave the curtains open and I get blinded in the morning.”

Amelia turns to me with the cutest smile, holding a plate of pancakes out for me. “At least you get to wake up next to me in the morning.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” I lean over the plate to give her what seems like the millionth kiss to the morning, “waking up next to you is pretty amazing.”

 TAGLIST

@bxnnywriting​ @babybloodstonebones​ @blameitonthenight21​ @feralreid​ @anepiphany​ @goldenalvez​ @reidscardigan​ @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto​ @stxrryspencer​ @m0rcia​ @whollytaciturn​ @thegingerfairchild​ @yasminwashere​ @shrimpyblog​ @blakes-dictionxry​ @anamelessfacelessnerd​ @wonderlandhatter​ @whxt-to-write​ @inkandexchange​ @just-call-me-non​

[sailorspazz]

[Fanfic] Internal Rhythms

Yup, my 10 Dance obsession has reached the point where I need to create fan works, since there’s so little out there (I don’t understand, this manga started 9 years ago, where are all the fics and fanarts?! There’s not even much in Japanese!)

Title: Internal Rhythms

Series: 10 Dance

Rating: M (for sexual content)

Words: 5,200

Summary: Suzuki and Sugiki are having issues syncing with each other's rhythms while practicing the quickstep. Sugiki's suggestion for how to get back in tune ends up pushing their relationship to a place it has never gone before.

Where to read: Posted on fanfiction.net and ao3. Or just stay here and click below!

Ah shit, here we go again…Somehow, I’ve wound up falling into a tiny fandom that has barely any fan works, so I guess I have to help fix that :P Since 10 Dance is an ongoing series, I actually have tons of speculative ideas/headcanons developing for what could happen, but for now I’m content to wait and see what direction the story heads in. Instead, I’ve chosen to write a smutty one-off based on chapter 32; though there are some details referenced from that chapter, if you’ve at least read through the end of volume 5, you should have enough context for where their relationship currently stands (as in, they definitely wouldn’t be messing around with each other at this point…and yet, I still couldn’t stop my dirty mind from imagining scenarios where they push things further >:D). Hope you enjoy this take on what could’ve gone down during a late-night training session!

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

The wall clock inside the Sugiki Dance School struck 1:20am as both Shinyas took a few final sips of water and prepared to start their usual overnight practice session. Though at first it had felt awkward to spend so many hours together even after they had chosen to no longer pursue their romance, they had been able to effectively push their feelings aside and maintain a professional training partnership—even as both were keenly aware that those desires still remained simmering just under the surface.

“Alright, let’s give the quickstep another shot,” Suzuki stated as he walked over to where Sugiki stood loosening the top buttons of his shirt. “We lost out on practice time yesterday since our rhythms were off or whatever, so we gotta make up for it today.” He was eager to finish learning the basics of all five standard dances so he could spend the remaining months before the 10 Dance perfecting his movements and refining his style.

“Indeed. Let’s waste no time getting started, then.” They joined hands, and Sugiki instinctively closed his eyes as Suzuki’s arm wrapped around him and pulled him snug against his body. He began to hum a tune, as he knew his late-night partner benefitted from having music to dance to, and they started to move. Though they started out smoothly, it was not long before their feet were clearly moving at different paces, causing them to nearly trip and fall before catching themselves in each other’s arms.

“Dammit. Not again,” Suzuki sighed in frustration as he broke out of hold. “Why’s this happening now? We’ve never had this issue before. Not even right after…” He trailed off, not wanting to bring up the breakup that still felt too raw and heartbreaking to talk about a couple of months after it had occurred.

“I believe it is simply the nature of this dance. Since it relies so heavily on the two dancers being in sync with one another and dancing as one, any variance in their internal rhythms can throw it entirely off balance.”

“I get that, but do you got any bright ideas for how to fix this, Mr. ‘standard expert’? Has it happened before with other partners?”

“It has, and the solution was…well…” He paused a moment, looking slightly amused by the memories he was recalling. “When it occurred with partners I was romantically involved with, we would express our intimacy to get back in tune with each other.”

“What, you mean fuck?” Suzuki said bluntly.

“Eloquent as always, aren’t you?” he replied with a chuckle. “It needn’t go that far in most cases. Usually just a simple kiss would suffice.”

Suzuki found himself dwelling on Sugiki’s implication that he had dated more than one of his previous partners. “Just how many partners did you…ya know what, never mind.” Though he already suspected it was true, getting confirmation that Sugiki had a tendency to fall for his partners would make what they had shared feel less special.

“I have never shared that sort of relationship with Ms. Yagami, I can assure you.”

His response was not assuring in the slightest. “Yeah, thanks, but I wasn’t worried about you getting busy with your married partner. It just seems like you…” Suzuki stopped himself from finishing his thought, as he was still concerned that the answer to his earlier unfinished question was one he did not want to know. “Whatever, I said forget it already.”

“You’re one to talk,” Sugiki retorted, not allowing the subject to be dropped just yet. “I’m quite certain that percentage-wise, you have been involved with more of your partners than I have.”

Suzuki looked flabbergasted at this accusation. While it was true that he had had romances with one hundred percent of his partners, when that number only amounted to two people when he included the man in front of him, it was hardly a fair comparison. “Are you shitting me? Don’t go twisting this around to make me look bad! You know damn well I’ve…” Before he got too far into his tirade, he noticed the satisfied smirk Sugiki was wearing. Clearly he was riling him up on purpose for his own amusement, and Suzuki had unwittingly fallen into his trap—though there was a part of him that did not mind being baited by him, and it was something he had actually missed when their relationship had been in a more fragile place following their separation. “This ain’t helping solve our problem, smartass. You got any solutions that’re actually useful?”

“We could try it,” Sugiki murmured under his breath, just barely loud enough for Suzuki to hear.

“Huh?” Suzuki wondered if he was really implying what he assumed he was, but was almost afraid to ask. “What exactly do you wanna try out?”

Sugiki met his eyes with an expression that to most would come across as stoic, but because they had spent so much time together, he could see a twinge of heartache behind it. “We shared a romantic bond before. Perhaps we could realign if we connected in that manner once more, however briefly.”

The acknowledgment that he was suggesting exactly what he had suspected caused Suzuki’s heart to leap. Despite continuing to share incredibly close contact every night as they practiced, neither one had broken down and expressed the desire to rekindle the affectionate side of their bond, even though it was something they could mutually sense from each other through their touch. Now Sugiki had finally gone and voiced it aloud, and Suzuki did not know how to feel, his elation being tamped down by the memories of how badly things had ended before. But he found he could not just shoot down this suggestion outright. “So…you’re saying we should make out?” he asked incredulously.

“It can be much chaster than that. Perhaps just a light kiss would do the trick, like the ones you gave me to help loosen me up during our early Latin sessions.”

His face now looked inscrutable, to the point where Suzuki could not tell if he actually thought this would be helpful, or if he was just looking for an excuse to kiss him. However, there was a growing part of him that did not even care if it were the latter. We really shouldn’t do this, he thought to himself. But his inner doubts did not match the words that came out of his mouth. “Well…if you think it’s worth a shot, then…”

Suzuki sauntered closer to Sugiki. As they stood facing each other, both looked unsure if they should actually go through with this. It was an unfamiliar awkward tension that neither wished to endure any longer, so the two began leaning their faces toward one another. However, Suzuki noticed something and grabbed Sugiki’s face, squishing his cheeks with his hands. “Hold up, what’s this I see?” he asked suspiciously, peering into his partner’s mouth. “Looks like the tip of your tongue is poking out awful far for someone who was just gonna kiss me lightly.”

“And what about you, Suzuki-sensei?” Sugiki brought his thumb up to the other man’s mouth and ran it gently across his bottom lip. “I was peeking as well, and those lips of yours were parted quite wide.”

Neither could truly be upset at the other since both were guilty of the same offense. Which made it even clearer that it would be incredibly difficult to restrain themselves and keep to just the gentle kiss they had agreed upon. Suzuki knew this meant they needed to stop, but as he stared into his partner’s yearning eyes, he found it impossible to turn away. He wanted him, he had missed sharing this with him, and he could not allow this opportunity to slip away, even if he knew he might regret it later. “Ah, fuck it,” he mumbled as he slipped his hand around and clutched the back of Sugiki’s head, smashing their lips together forcefully. They quickly locked together in a tight embrace, their tongues thrusting vigorously into each other’s mouths. As ballroom professionals, they had previously compared their make out sessions to different styles of dance: sometimes their tongues slid smoothly together in a gentle foxtrot, at other times they undulated in a sensual rumba. This time, as months of pent-up passion poured out of each of them, it was more like an unconventional paso doble between two matadors battling for dominance.

Why’s it so easy to fall right back into this? And why does it feel so good with him? Suzuki wondered as they continued their maddening yet thrilling dance, relishing the feeling of Sugiki’s fingers twisting through his hair and tugging at his curls. Though in the past he had been more accustomed to romantic partners who would yield to him, there was something about the aggressive push and pull between the two of them that was undeniably appealing—in fact, he even preferred it now.

Sugiki began sucking on the tip of Suzuki’s tongue, causing a moan to slip out. Shit, this is getting out of hand. The urges he had harbored before about ravishing his late-night partner were coming back in full force; he needed to end this before he tried something regrettable again. Against the will of his body that was screaming for more, he managed to dislodge his tongue from Sugiki’s mouth and pull his face back. They breathed heavily as they gazed at each other, and Sugiki made a move toward him again, but Suzuki turned his face so the other man’s lips landed on his cheek instead. Sugiki seemed to accept this alternative, and placed a sequence of tender kisses along his jawline. “I knew this was a bad idea,” Suzuki lamented with a deep sigh.

“Why do you say that?” Sugiki whispered, pressing his lips to Suzuki’s ear.

“’Cause it’s gonna be really hard to stop now.”

“Indeed, I can see how…hard it is,” Sugiki noted with a sly glance downward. “That’s quite a bomer you’re sporting.”

Suzuki’s face turned red, though he also snorted out a laugh. “I seriously can’t tell if you’re fucking with me at this point, or you really don’t know that word. It’s boner.”

“Ah, right.” The sexual tension between them had cooled a bit during this brief exchange, but Sugiki found himself still craving more of his Latino partner. The fact that July was fast approaching and Norman would soon be arriving to take over Suzuki’s coaching made him truly want to make the most of the remaining time they had together. He was on the verge of suggesting something they had never done before, but struggled as he weighed his desires against logic telling him they should not take this any further. “It would be difficult for you to attempt to dance in that state. Perhaps…” His uncertainty caused him to trail off without finishing his proposal.

“Ah, y-yeah,” Suzuki laughed awkwardly. “I guess I could take a break and…”

Before he could walk away, Sugiki grabbed his arms and held him in place. “Perhaps,” he started again, sounding more confident this time as he met his partner’s eyes. “I could…take care of it for you.”

Suzuki’s eyes widened in disbelief. For one, he had never seen someone offer to get him off while wearing such a gravely serious expression. But more importantly, the fact that he was making this offer now when they had never gone beyond kissing was completely unexpected. And he knew allowing this to happen could jeopardize the comfortable working relationship they had developed with each other. Despite that, something awakened in him at the sound of the other Shinya’s words, and there was no way in hell he was going to turn him down. His mental state quickly switched over to the seductive mode that he typically got into when he went out to pick up women—though ever since their trip to Blackpool early in the year when he had started to recognize his feelings for Sugiki, he had actually not slept with anyone at all, and was currently in the longest dry spell of his adult life. Even if they were never officially dating, and even after their romance ended, it would have almost felt like cheating since he had sincerely fallen in love with him. A sensual grin spread across his face, his eyes half-lidded as he softly stroked Sugiki’s cheek. “Oh yeah? How do you plan to do it?” he purred flirtatiously.

Sugiki shivered as he was taken in by the sudden shift in Suzuki’s mannerisms. He did not give him an answer, but instead kept his eyes locked with his partner’s as he dropped down to his knees and reached for the waistband of Suzuki’s pants.

Suzuki raised an eyebrow. “I thought you weren’t willing to do that.”

“Certainly not under the circumstances you presented me with before. That would have been highly undignified,” Sugiki explained in an agitated tone. “Under the right conditions, though, I don’t have a problem with it.” He pulled Suzuki’s pants down to his lower thighs, then slipped his hand through the opening in his underwear, pulling out his erection.

Suzuki chuckled as he noticed that, though Sugiki seemed to be willing himself to keep his expression as calm as possible, his eyes told the story of a man suddenly feeling apprehensive as he held another man’s dick in his hand for the first time in his life. “You say you’re fine with this, but it’s not like you’ve done it before.”

“Yes, well…” He did not finish his reply aloud, but thought to himself, For you—and only you—I’m willing to try just about anything. His hunger for this man had compelled him to push things further than he had intended, but at this point he could not back down. He gave Suzuki’s member some soft strokes with his hand, feeling it grow bigger and firmer. He brought his lips forward and placed them gently on the tip, then poked his tongue out and swirled it in circles around the head. He was stalling a bit due to his hesitation, and he knew Suzuki could sense that as he stared down at him in anticipation, so it was time to take the plunge. He moved forward and slipped the head of Suzuki’s erection into his mouth. He sucked lightly as he pressed him just a bit deeper inside, moving back and forth slowly as he got used to the sensation of having a foreign appendage inside his mouth. Once he got a bit more comfortable, he removed his hand and pushed further yet again, reaching a place where he had most of Suzuki’s length in his mouth. He began to relax a bit, and his head movements went from halting and erratic to smooth and consistent.

Holy shit, this is really happening. Suzuki closed his eyes and exhaled a lustful sigh. I can’t believe I’m getting a blowjob from a guy. He smirked as he thought on it further. No, not just any guy. The Shinya Sugiki. The Emperor. A man who sits near the top of the world, down on his knees for me. Fuck, that’s hot. The ego boost he got from this realization aroused him even further, making him want to feel the sensation of being completely enveloped by his partner. He gripped Sugiki’s hair and tried to hold him in place while shifting his hips forward, but Sugiki’s hand flew up and gripped the base of his shaft, preventing him from going any deeper. He shot a warning glare up at Suzuki, but did not stop what he was doing, now using his hand in conjunction with his mouth to stroke and suck him simultaneously. It seemed the balance of power was an issue between them, as it always had been; even though Sugiki had put himself in a vulnerable position, he still wanted to remain in control. Suzuki could respect that need, and though he still kept his hand resting on his partner’s head, he merely ran his fingers through his hair rather than made further attempts to steer his actions through force.

Suzuki recalled that the reason this had all started was because of their mistimed internal rhythms. There was certainly no more intimate demonstration of one’s rhythm than what Sugiki was doing to him currently, so he decided to concentrate on the pace of his partner’s actions. As soon as he put his focus on it, he was struck by how even and steady it was. Like a piece of music…oh my god, what if he’s playing a waltz in his head? A chuckle nearly escaped him, but he bit down hard on his lip to hold it back. Nah, he doesn’t even need music. He’s probably doing it to the count. One two three, four five six, one two three…it’s like I’m getting blown by a metronome. That mental image made him snicker aloud, causing Sugiki to stop and peer up at him quizzically. “Sorry, sorry. I just…thought of something weird.” He could tell from the look in his eyes that Sugiki was miffed that he was letting his mind wander when he was going extremely far out of his comfort zone to do this for him, so Suzuki felt the need to encourage him a bit. “Please don’t stop. It really does feel amazing.” Though he still looked slightly wary, Sugiki quickly got back into the same rhythm he had been using before. Clearly, thinking about anything was only going to get Suzuki in trouble, so he chose to just relax and enjoy Sugiki’s efforts.

Though the pace he was keeping felt good, it was not quite reaching the speed Suzuki would need to finish. The situation already felt delicate, and he did not want to seem like he was making demands of his partner, so instead of saying anything, he used the fingers resting on Sugiki’s head to gently tap out a faster rhythm. He immediately picked up on what Suzuki was subtly requesting of him, and altered his pace accordingly. Sugiki’s other hand reached around to squeeze one of his partner’s well-muscled ass cheeks. His fingers slipped ever closer toward the center, an avenue Suzuki was not ready to explore. “H-hey,” he protested firmly, causing Sugiki to return to merely caressing his backside. “Ah, Sugi…hngh…mmph.” He could not help but vocalize his pleasure as he drew closer and closer to his climax. He figured it was also probably fair to warn the other man so he could be prepared. “I’m gonna…gah!” He did not even finish the words before tossing his head back with a moan as a wave of ecstasy coursed throughout his body. Though Sugiki had been aware that this would be happening soon and had tried to brace himself, it was still a shock to feel another man’s essence spilling into his mouth. He swallowed a little bit, but the thick, unfamiliar texture sliding down his throat triggered his gag reflex and made him cough, causing most of Suzuki’s cum to dribble down onto his shirt.

Suzuki offered a hand to help Sugiki stand up. Even after pulling him up, he continued to grip his hand, flashing him a contented smile. “Well, I sure didn’t expect a training session like this.”

Sugiki could not help but grin back at him. His heartbeat quickened as they stared into each other’s eyes. He wished they could stay this way forever, but he knew that the longer they continued basking in the afterglow, the harder it would be to tear themselves away from each other. “Well then, shall we get back to training?”

“Whoa, hold on a minute,” Suzuki squeezed his hand tighter, keeping him from breaking away. “We might’ve solved my issue, but now it looks like you’re having one of your own.” His eyes darted downward to the obvious bulge in Sugiki’s pants, then looked back up at him with a lecherous grin.

“Ah, well, I…”

Suzuki swiftly eliminated the gap between their bodies, wrapping one arm around him while his other hand rubbed against the front of Sugiki’s pants. “Sucking me off got you pretty worked up, huh?” Suzuki murmured coquettishly. Sugiki could feel his neck and ears growing warm as he was once again being taken in by his partner’s highly effective seductive mode; it was hard to believe that a man who was so enticing in his everyday existence could amp up his sex appeal even more, but somehow Suzuki managed to pull it off. “You got such a low opinion of me that you didn’t think I’d return the favor?” he teased impishly.

Truth be told, this had all been quite an impulsive whim on Sugiki’s part, and he had not really thought ahead to what Suzuki might do for him in return. But now that the offer was on the table, there was no way he was going to pass it up. Sugiki draped his arms over Suzuki’s shoulders and gazed amorously into his eyes. “If you insist,” he answered softly before leaning forward to press his lips to his partner’s. The pace of this kiss was much more languid than the one they had shared earlier, yet still steeped with the passion of a tango as their tongues slipped past and against each other.

Suzuki began to shuffle his feet, leading them toward the side of the room as they remained attached at the mouth. They reached the benches and sat next to each other, then Suzuki pushed his weight toward Sugiki until he had him lying down. He brought his lips down upon Sugiki’s neck, kissing and sucking at his bare skin. Sugiki noted that he was definitely going to wind up with hickies from this, and would need to remember to keep his shirts completely buttoned up in the presence of others for the next few days, including at home with his mother.

Suzuki’s mouth drifted toward his throat, and he started moving on a pathway downward, placing kisses on each section of newly exposed skin as he undid his shirt buttons one by one. His other hand reached up to play with his nipples, and Sugiki could feel a part of him that wanted to resist; a man like him who was used to being in control was not entirely comfortable being put into such a submissive position. Still, he was willing to go against his own nature in this instance, as he craved the release his Latino partner was offering him.

After making his way down to Sugiki’s bellybutton, Suzuki went to work undoing the other man’s belt and unzipping his pants. He reached down into his underwear, frowning slightly as a realization hit him. “Um, wow. I could tell you were packing when our dicks said hello to each other in that first practice session, but god damn…” He sat up again and unveiled Sugiki’s erection, gawking at its impressive length. “Makin’ me feel inadequate here,” he muttered under his breath. Though he had desired Sugiki sexually for several months already, somehow he had never mentally prepared himself for the blow to his ego of being with a man who was better endowed than himself.

“You’re perfectly adequately sized, I can assure you.”

Suzuki looked dumbfounded for a second, then growled, “Your assurances are really shitty, ya know. How the hell’s being called ‘adequate’ supposed to make me feel better?!” In his mind, he added, Maybe someday I’ll fuck you, and we’ll see if you think my dick’s just ‘adequate’ then, but thought better of expressing that prospect aloud.

Sugiki was struggling to maintain a neutral expression, feeling a grin threatening to break out across his face. Getting Suzuki flustered was one of his favorite—and often easiest—forms of entertainment, and it was when he found him the most adorable. Though on second thought, perhaps this was not the smartest time to aggravate him, as it could cause his hot-headed partner to go back on his offer.

Suzuki narrowed his eyes at him, now noticing the smug glee Sugiki was trying to conceal. “You son of a bitch…” He had gotten him again, and though he was a bit peeved, he nevertheless loved seeing the spark of joy in the other Shinya’s eyes, which had become a rarer sight following their breakup. “You’re lucky I’m such a nice guy,” Suzuki said with a bit of a sneer as he began moving his hand in long strokes up and down Sugiki’s shaft. His partner sighed softly, closing his eyes and turning his head to the side, but Suzuki reached up and grabbed his chin, forcing him to face him again. “Hey. We ain’t dancing the waltz here. Don’t look away from me.” His lips curled up in a lascivious smile. “I wanna see your face when you come.” His grin widened even more as he watched Sugiki’s entire face turn beet red. “Wow. I’ve never seen you blush that hard before.” After repeatedly falling victim to his partner’s efforts to mess with him, Suzuki was pleased to achieve a small victory of his own.

As Suzuki continued to caress him, Sugiki tried to maintain the eye contact that the other man wanted, but it felt too intimate, to the point where it was uncomfortable for him. He continued facing upward, but instead of concentrating on what was in his field of vision, he fixated his attention on the rhythm Suzuki was using to pleasure him. Like when he danced, it was a bit inconsistent and unconventional, yet imbued with passion and enthusiasm. In any case, after spending months secretly wondering what it would be like if they pushed beyond just kissing, being touched by Suzuki like this was quite the thrill.

Suzuki saw a blissful smile appear on his partner’s face, which in these circumstances actually annoyed him. Ugh, why’s he always so elegant? I don’t wanna see that gentlemanly front when I’m jerking you off. He started pumping his hand faster, hoping to coax more of a lustful reaction out of Sugiki. His response of breathing slightly faster and biting down lightly on his lip was not nearly enough to sate Suzuki’s desire to see him let go, so he quickened his pace even more. Soon after, a slight hitch in Sugiki’s breath and his body tensing under him were the only signs Suzuki got to indicate that his partner was climaxing, which was immediately followed by the sensation of ejaculate spilling over his hand.

After taking a few moments to recover, Sugiki arose from the bench. “Let me get something so you can clean up,” he offered as he started walking across the room. He returned shortly with a towel and handed it to Suzuki.

“So…did you like that?” Suzuki asked curiously as he wiped his hands.

“Hmm? Of course. Why would you think otherwise?” Sugiki answered, looking confused.

“I mean, you weren’t really reacting very much, so…”

“Does the end result not make it obvious that I found it pleasurable?” He glanced at the towel Suzuki held, seeming to view it as proof of his point.

“Okay, yeah, obviously you got off, but I’m just more used to…”

“Oh, is it that you usually have women screaming your name in bed?” he chortled.

“That’s…not what I was trying to say…though it is true,” Suzuki acknowledged. “I just thought maybe I’d…I dunno, get to see you let loose a bit, get sloppy or something.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t tend to do that.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Despite his best efforts, he had not succeeded in making Sugiki drop the impervious guard he kept around himself. Maybe I can’t get you to show me that side of you yet, but someday…

Sugiki could tell it was frustrating for the other Shinya that he had not given him the sort of responses he was accustomed to, but the fact was that it was difficult to open himself entirely up knowing that they could not be in a relationship at this point. Still, he could not let go of the hope that they might one day be together. If anyone’s capable of pulling that side out of me, you’ll be the one to do it.

Once they finished cleaning up, Sugiki disposed of the towel and changed into a new shirt before returning to his partner once more. “All right, shall we resume practice, then?”

“Yeah, but could we work on some dances I already know first? My brain’s a bit…foggy right now, so it’d be hard to try something so new.” He always fell into a fairly relaxed state following sex, so he wanted to save Sugiki the headache of trying to teach him quickstep when it was likely he would absorb very little.

“Certainly, but do you not think we should at least try to see if the compatibility of our rhythms has improved at all first?” He looked at Suzuki with a sly smirk. “That is why we did this, yes?”

“O-of course,” Suzuki stammered. “Yeah, let’s test it out a bit.” They positioned themselves in hold once more, beginning to move to the tune of Sugiki’s humming. Their feet flew across the floor in the basic quickstep patterns Suzuki had learned so far, each of them keeping in mind the feeling of the internal rhythms they had sensed from each other. This time around, they were able to continue moving at high speeds without stumbling, dancing around the room for a while before coming to a stop. Both were panting heavily from the effort, and as they stayed in hold a bit longer, Suzuki blushed slightly as Sugiki beamed at him with a dreamy smile on his face.

“Perfect.”

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Oh ho ho…my Shinyas are very naughty boys! Much more so than they’ve been in the story so far (I suppose a similar level to the Taboo side story, but that’s not exactly canon). I’m excited to get this done and add another fic to the very small pile that currently exists. I really hope more fans will join me in celebrating this beautiful manga and its central pair of dance crazy dumbasses who can’t yet—but will hopefully, eventually—figure out how to make it work between them *cough*just be switch goddammit*cough*. In the meantime, I’ll keep wallowing in headcanons that might possibly become fics if the mood strikes me again. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it! ^_^

[golbrocklovely]

give your heart a break // colby brock - chapter five: the jealousy

A/N: so i’m about to go out with a friend so if this isn’t all fixed and there are some spelling mistakes, i’ll be fixing it later. i just wanted to post it for yall since you guys have been asking for this chapter. it’s a good one, trust me. alrighty, hope you enjoy. let me know what you think! byeeee! :)

story description

taglist: @azurebrock , @daddydobrock , @colbyf-ingbrock , @cuddlingwithcolby , @absolute-randomness-forever , @lovelycolby , @codename-nyx , @sweetxplr , @absolutelynobodyposts

trigger warning: SMUT, angst, cursing, partying, drinking, mentions of hooking up

word count: 2608

~~~~~~~~~~~

seven months, three weeks, five days

“So speaking of boyfriends... how are you and Colby doing?” Kat smirked, turning her head to me.

“Yes, how is our emo, lover-boy doing?” Tara asked, giving me the same look.

I rolled my eyes. “First off, not my boyfriend. Secondly, we’re good.”

“You’re doing a lot better than good if you guys are fucking.” Tara stated bluntly.

“Wait you’re having sex?! You didn’t tell me that.” Kat exclaimed quietly, smacking my arm dramatically.

I snickered. “I thought I told you! Anyways, yes; me and Colby are having sex. But it’s... different.”

“What do you mean by different?” Tara questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Well for starters, we’ve separated romantic stuff from sexual stuff,” I explained. “We can kiss during sex but not when we cuddle and whatnot. And also there’s no romantic stuff after sex. We just kinda get up and go.”

“Why are you guys doing it like that?” Kat laughed.

“Because he and I have made it clear that neither one of us want to catch feelings for the other, so we think this is the best way.” I shrugged, “Plus, we’ve both agreed that if we want to see other people, we can.”

“We... or him?” Tara retorted.

“What do you mean?” I queried.

“Look. I love Colby, but I love you more. You have to be honest with yourself. Are you sure that what he wants is what you want?” Tara argued.

“Yeah. I mean I guess so.” I answered.

Tara sighed. “All I’m saying is if he’s the one making all the rules, this isn’t really a 50/50 relationship. And I know y’all are just friends with benefits, but those benefits need to go both ways.”

“You sound like you’ve done this before.” I remarked.

“Let’s just say before Jake, I was a bit crazy.” Tara joked.

Kat smiled. “You still are.”

“Shut up!” Tara giggled, pushing Kat.

~~~

I decided that after hanging out with Tara and Kat, I wanted to see Colby. It had honestly become part of my routine to come over mid-day and hang with him if he wasn’t doing anything. He even gave me a spare key so I could just come in whenever.

I walked down the hall to his place, pulling his key out of my pocket. I unlocked the door and opened it.

“Hey Colby, I was thinking of-” I started.

A brunette girl swung herself off of Colby, who jumped up when he heard my voice.

Oh my god... he was actually hooking up with someone else.

“Hey Zo. Uh uh what’s up?” Colby stammered.

I huffed. “Nothing much, Colbs. Seems like you’re busy. I could leave if you want.”

“Um that’s okay. Stacy was just leaving anyway.” He chuckled uncomfortably.

Stacy cleared her throat and stood up slowly, fixing her clothes. “Yeah, I gotta go. Thanks for your help.”

I stayed silent as she grabbed her stuff and walked up to Colby, giving him a quick peck on the cheek and whispering goodbye.

I stared at Colby as Stacy left, my eyes never leaving his. When I finally heard the door close, he exhaled. “Um so how-”

“Are you serious, Colby?” I hissed.

Colby furrowed his brows. “What?”

“Stacy? Stacy fucking Jackson? You know she’s only using you, right? She’s been bouncing from influencer to influencer since she got to LA last year. We literally used to joke about how much of a user she was.” I groaned. “At least she’s uped her ranks since she’s now hooking up with you.”

Colby scoffed. “Don’t be like that. She came over because she had a question about editing and-”

“Her tongue accidentally landed in your mouth. A tale as old as time.” I sassed.

“What’s with the attitude? It’s not like I’m breaking our rules.” He reminded.

“Attitude? You think this is me giving you attitude? No. You see, this is me being fucking angry at the fact that you are hooking up with Stacy.” I jeered.

“You sound jealous.” He speculated, a devilish look in his eye.

“I’m not jealous!” I hollered. I stopped, took a deep breath, and continued. “The whole reason we started this friends-with-benefits thing is because you felt like you couldn’t have a relationship with any other girl out here because they were all using you. Now you’re hooking up with the biggest user in L.A.?”

“I’m not hooking up with her. We made out. That’s it.” Colby informed, going into his kitchen.

“Only because I came in.” I followed him.

Colby opened his fridge, grabbing a water bottle. “You arguing with me really isn’t helping the jealousy thing.”

“Fuck you, I’m not jealous.” I deadpanned.

He paused. “Look, I thought allowing us to see other people while still doing this was something we both agreed with. If you didn’t want me to go hook up with other girls, you should have said something.”

“Have you hooked up with other girls?” I crossed my arms uncomfortably.

He shrugged. “Maybe. Have you hooked up with any guys?”

“No. I thought…” I trailed off.

“You thought what?” Colby took a drink from his bottle.

“…Why would you wanna hook up with other people?” I inquired.

“Because what we have isn’t serious.” He replied.

I felt my stomach drop and my heart skip a beat.

Why did his words hurt so bad?

“Right. So, if I hooked up with some random guy, you wouldn’t care.” I doubted.

“No. Hell, I encourage it.” He formed a tight-lipped smile.

I raised an eyebrow. “Really? Any guy?”

“Yeah. Whoever. It doesn’t matter to me.” Colby leaned against his counter.

“Okay.” I nodded my head, slowly turning towards his door to leave.

As I opened it, I stopped and spun back to him, smirking. “Hey… isn’t there a party tonight?”

~~~

I glanced around at the party taking place, sighing deeply and taking a long drink from my cup. I had been at this party for over three hours and regretted it.

I came here with the intention of hooking up with someone, literally anyone, just to prove Colby wrong.

But why did I want to prove him wrong?

Maybe because I was actually… jealous, of him and Stacy.

“Damn… I need more alcohol.” I sang to myself drunkenly.

As I poured more into my cup, I felt a light tap on my shoulder. I turned around and found Mike smiling down at me.

“Hey Zoe. What’s up?” Mike asked kindly.

“Nothing. Just drinking my feelings away.” I mentioned, smiling lazily.

He slid his cup in front of me. “Cheers to that.”

I laughed, pouring some vodka into his cup.

“What’s with all the emotions? What’s gotten you upset?” Mike queried.

“Colby.” I grumbled.

Mike chuckled. “Ahh. Our favorite emo king. What he do?”

“He hooked up with Stacy Jackson.” I informed.

He scrunched his face up. “That bitch?”

“Yeah. And I caught him doing it.” I took a swig from my drink.

“Aren’t you two-” Mike began.

“No, we are not together!” I exclaimed, groaning. “We’ve hooked up a bunch and now he made up these rules that we can hook up with other people but I don’t think I want us to.”

He gasped dramatically. “Oh no. Are you catching-”

I interjected again. “Feelings? No. But like, why do we need to hook up with other people when we have each other? It’s just dumb.”

“Sure.” Mike agreed.

“Plus, unless we get tested monthly, we could give each other STDs.” I reasoned.

He nodded his head. “Right.”

“And plus it’s just stupid.” I whined.

He bit back a smile. “You kinda already said that.”

I stared down at my cup. “…I have been drinking a lot.”

“Well, if you’re that upset with him hooking up with Stacy, why don’t you hook up with someone?” Mike suggested.

“I wanted to, but no one at this party is interesting enough for me. Plus, I don’t really want to do a one-night stand.” I confessed. “Making out is fine though.”

Mike took a sip from his drink and I followed suit, a light silence falling over us.

“You wanna make out?”

I choked suddenly, coughing into my arm. “What?!”

“You heard me.” Mike smirked.

I felt a weird blush come to my face. “Mike…”

“It’s definitely one way to get back at him.” He joked.

“I don’t know.” I mumbled.

“Look, all I’m saying is, if you decide to say yes, it won’t go any further than kissing. And for this one time offer, I will gladly forget it happened after tonight. Never bringing it up again. Never telling any of our friends.” Mike offered.

“I-I…” I stuttered.

“Just a thought. Come find me if you wanna.” He winked, walking away and heading towards the living room of the party.

I shouldn’t do this. This is sort of wrong, right?

But there was a voice inside my head that thought about what Tara said. Colby and I's relationship was not an even split. He was making all the rules and just expecting me to follow them.

And just because I don’t like him hooking up with other girls doesn’t mean I’m jealous! I’m just... upset.

I grabbed the bottle of alcohol I had from before, pouring out two shots and drinking them down hastily. I placed the bottle back on the counter and followed the way Mike had gone.

I found him not long after: sitting on the couch next to Colby.

Well... this was gonna be fun.

"Hey Mike?" I called to him.

He and Colby gazed up at me. “Yeah?” He responded.

"I think I’m gonna take you up on your offer." I stated breathlessly marching up to him.

Mike smirked as I straddled his lap, leaning into him and kissing him passionately. His lips tasted like fruity alcohol. His tongue found its way into my mouth as he pulled me closer to him.

I suddenly felt a hand grab my arm and yank me away from Mike’s lips. I looked up and saw Colby glaring down at me.

He pulled me off of Mike and dragged me to a door that led into a bathroom. He slammed the door shut, locking it quickly.

The room felt heavy as he paused before he spoke.

"Are you fucking serious?" Colby barked

I leaned against the counter cockily. "What’s the matter?"

"Mike... you’re hooking up with Mike?!" He fumed.

I shrugged. "You said any guy."

"Yeah well I thought friends would kinda be off limits. Besides you don’t even like Mike like that." He argued.

"Who says I have to like him to fuck him?" I deadpanned.

“Don’t be dramatic.” He hissed.

I scoffed. “Excuse me? Dramatic? You think this is me being dramatic? I’m sorry, but who’s the one that pulled the other into a bathroom, Cole?”

“Oooh, first name. I must be in trouble.” Colby sneered.

I paused for a second, clicking my tongue. “You sound jealous.”

“What?” He replied.

“You heard me. You sound-”

“Jealous? Right.”

I placed my hands on my hips. “Why else would you pull me off of Mike… unless you didn’t want me to hook up with him?”

Colby stayed silent; his arms crossed tight as he gazed down at the floor.

“You know what, Colby? Fuck you.” I pointed, shoving my finger onto his chest.

His icy, dark blue eyes glared into mine.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, alright? You’ve made it very apparent we’re just friends, so you have no say in whether or not I fuck someone else or not. So I’m gonna go out there and me and Mike are gonna have a good fucking time.” I ranted.

I strutted past Colby, reaching the door in a second. As I unlocked the door and began to open it, it was slammed shut from behind by Colby’s hand. He spun me around, smashing his body and pinning me up against the door. His lips were immediately on mine, his tongue invading my mouth.

I gasped into the kiss. Colby’s hands gripped my hips, his grinding into mine. Our tongues glided against each other’s. His hands danced down my thighs, pulling them around his waist and lifting me up against the door. He pulled his lips away forcefully, giving me only moments to catch my breath.

“You’re not going out there and fucking Mike,” He stated lustfully. “I’m the only one that can fuck you.”

He yanked my dress up, finding my underwear and pushing it to the side. His fingers began to rub my clit, eliciting moans from me.

“I’m the only one that can make you feel this good. You’re already getting so wet for me.” He chuckled darkly.

Colby began to finger me, causing a whine to escape my mouth suddenly. I dug my nails into his shoulders, trying to hold back any more noises.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He asked, fingering me harder.

I nodded hastily. “Yes.”

“Then say it. Say you want me to fuck you.” He demanded.

I exhaled. “Colby please.”

“Please what?” He bit his lip.

“Fuck me Colby, please.” I whimpered breathlessly.

He smirked. “Gladly.”

Colby rushed me over to the counter, placing me down and pulling out a condom. He unzipped and tugged his jeans and underwear down, his cock springing free. He jerked himself for a few seconds as stared at me. He ripped the wrapper open, sliding the condom down his shaft.

“Turn around.” He ordered.

I spun around, my body facing the bathroom mirror. I watched Colby pull down my panties and spread my legs.

“I want you to watch me fuck you from behind.” He growled into my ear.

Colby bent me over, his cock playing with my entrance. I bit my lip as he teasingly entered me, groans falling from both our lips.

Instantly, he began to thrust into me, his pace already fast. His grasp on my hips was tight, his fingerprints already starting to leave marks.

“You’re mine, you know that? You’re mine.” Colby grunted, gazing at me through the mirror.

He fucked into me deeper, my eyes rolling back at the feeling.

I finally stared at him. “If I’m yours, then you’re mine.”

Colby raised an eyebrow at me, his rhythm not faltering.

“I’ll gladly be yours if you’ll be mine.�� I muttered, my eyes fluttering from the pleasure.

He slowed himself for a moment, bringing my body up against his. He kissed along my neck sweetly, lips landing on my ear.

“No one else. Just us?” He whispered.

“Exactly…” I agreed.

His lips stayed under my ear sucking on my sensitive spot, causing tingles to run down my spine. He pulled out suddenly, turning me around to face him. We looked into each other’s eyes as Colby leaned in and kissed me tenderly.

He tore his lips away from mine, lining himself back up. He slid in slowly, my body shaking from how sensitive I was.

He thrusted into me gentle at first, but it began to build up back to where it was. Noises fell from our lips as he pounded harder and harder. I could feel myself building up, unable to hold back.

I whined. “Colby, fuck. I’m gonna-”

“Keep your eyes on me, baby.” He uttered.

I looked into his eyes, not able to pull myself away as my orgasm hit me hard. I moaned loudly, gripping the counter and his waist.

Colby thrusted three more times and then grunted loudly, coming undone himself.

We finally relaxed against each other, my head falling onto his shoulder.

He kissed my cheek sweetly, his breath fanning against my neck. “No one else.”

<< CHAPTER 4 || CHAPTER 6 >>

[aceresources]

Crash Evil Dead MC Book 2- Memes Part Seven

Feel free to change the gender to whatever suits your muse. WARNING Language, Violence, Drug mention,  and NSFW themes including sexual innuendo.

“Stop here.” “He wanted you dead. He didn’t change his mind. I made that call.” “I’m DEA. Undercover.” “You heard me. Been working this case for months.” “He’s fine, but if I had to guess, I figure he’s lost this shit.” “I took care of you in there.” “I wasn’t about to let them take you out.” “But now, you gotta do something for me.” “I appreciate what you did, but I don’t gotta do shit for you.” “Don’t make me regret this, sweetheart.” “You leave my sister alone.” “Oh baby. What did they do to you?” “Are you hurt?” “Did he touch you at all?” “They drugged me. That’s all.” “Baby, how’d you get here?” “Don’t much like being told how to handle this.” “I don’t understand why he just let you go.” “I don’t know.  I guess he got what he wanted.” “Was that part of your plan?” “Motherfucker, where’s ___?” “Didn’t you tell me that ___ had some sleeping pills with her?” “I think she drugged him.” “Everything okay here?” “He should have called by now. He was supposed to call.” “Get your fucking hands off her!” “Baby, put the knife down. It’s all gonna be okay.” “I’ve got you, ___. I’ve got you.” “It’s over. It’s all over, baby.” “You came for me.” “Of course, I did. Did you have any doubt?” “No one and nothing is going to get in our way or pull us apart.” “Seems we’ve got a problem.” “Let’s just say they’re sleepin’ it off.” “He was an asshole.” “He on the other hand deserved exactly what he got.” “You should get her out of here and take the murder weapon with you.” “My only regret is I didn't get to kill him myself.” “Thanks for your help tonight. I owe you one.” “You know your voice calms me.” “Baby, you scared the shit outta me when I came home and found you gone.” “Why did you leave?” “I had to. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to ___.” “I couldn’t just sit here knowing I was the cause of everything.” “___ is beating himself up for having let you get away.” “I’m still gonna beat his ass.” “I feel safe with you.” “I feel like I kinda fell down on the job of keeping you safe.” “I didn’t want anyone else to touch me after you, but he did.” “He can’t ever touch you again, sweetheart.”   “I was so proud of you honey.” “No one is ever going to hurt you again, ___.” “You said these things to him?” “___, calm the fuck down.” “You didn’t say those things to him?” “This is a crock of shit.” “Yeah. I said them and I meant every word.” “Baby don’t do this. Don’t let him rip us apart.” “I said a lot of shit. I was angry. I was trying to get him to tell me where ___ had ___.” “Are you going to stand there and tell me my father was a part of that now too?” “Just get out.” “Go! We’re done!” “I don’t want you here.” “Get out!” “What are you doing here?” “I came to check on you. Are you okay, ___?” “I don’t know how you got in here but please leave.” “I don’t know how you got in but go back the way you came.” “I don’t need your picture showing up in the paper and them speculating about you and why you’d be here.” “___, if you’d just give me a chance to explain-” “There’s nothing to explain. We’re done. Just go.” “We are not done, ___. We are so far from done-” “What don’t you understand?” “I want you gone!” “Thanks for everything you did for me, ___. I mean that.” “I didn’t say anything to him that wasn’t true, ___.” “I love you. More than he ever did.” “If you ever need me for anything sweetheart you know where I am.” “All you’re doin’ is pourin’ whiskey on the hurt.” “It’s my hurt. If I want to drown it I will.” “She’s got you messed up.” “I ain’t never felt like this, ___.” “I let a lot of women walk out my door.” “Never realized what that dose to a person.” “But now I know how it feels when someone lets you walk out that door and doesn't even try to stop you.” “It hurts, ___. It tears your fucking heart out.” “What are we going to do about him?” “He’s working through it in his own way.” “What he’s working through is ___’s whole lineup.” “Keep him busy.” “Last thing he needs is to sit around and stew about some Goddamned piece of tail.” “Think she was more than a piece of tail to him, ___.” “Did I hear my name mentioned?” “Are you sad?” “Momma said it’s because ___ went away.” “I’ll be your girl.” “Quit moping around like somebody took your puppy.” “Shut the fuck up and shoot.” “Really man, you want this girl so bad go fucking get her.” “Hey get your hands off my woman.”

[vgckwb]

P5R: Rebel Girl (A FeMC Story/P5R Rework) Chapter 21: A Beacon of Hope

(Slight warning: There’s a bit near the end where Ren describes her initial experience with Kamoshida. If it’s too much for you, the section you should skip begins with the words “She looked down” and ends after the three paragraphs.)

May 2nd. The day Shiho was going to burn down the school, and with it, all of her fears and insecurities. Yet the three human Phantom Thieves stood in front of the school (with Morgana residing in Ren’s bag). “Yep. It’s still there” Ryuji said.

Ann was a little nervous. Ren took notice. “Are you OK?”

Ann still hesitated. She sighed. “I just thought Kamoshida would have confessed by now. We did all of that, and yet…”

“It’ll happen Lady Ann,” Morgana said from the bag. “I guarantee it.”

Ann smiled slightly. “Thanks Morgana.”

Ryuji looked around and saw something that surprised how. “Is that?”

The two girls looked where Ryuji looked. “Shiho?!” Ann said with surprise.

Shiho timidly walked up to them. “Hey everyone,” she said, quietly. After a period of silence, she just let out an “I’m sorry.”

“Shiho!” Ann said again, tears bursting out of her. She rushed to Shiho and hugged her. “I’m SO glad you’re OK.”

Shiho was surprised. She then smiled and hugged Ann back. “Thank you Ann.” The two of them stopped hugging. Shiho was still nervous, though understandably so. “Well, I guess we should go in.”

“Yeah” Ren nodded, smiling. The four of them headed in.

When they got to class, Morgana made his way into Ren’s desk. “You seem a little more cheerful than you were this morning,” he remarked.

Ren grinned at him. “You’ve noticed. Well, this is just a guess, but if Shiho is well enough to come to school, and her and Kamoshida were linked in the metaverse, I’m thinking we might get our confession today.”

Serendipitously, the announcements came on. “Attention. This is Suguru Kamoshida. I am advising everyone to come to the auditorium for a special announcement. Please. I beg of you.”

As the class murmured on what this could be, Morgana looked at Ren and said “You were saying?”

Ren giggled. “Let’s go.”

Kawakami sighed. “Alright. Settle down. Kamoshida told us about this this morning, so we made time for it. Now please, everyone in a single file line.” The class was restless, but did as Kawakami said, since they figured it was the easiest way to figure out why Kamoshida was calling this meeting.

Soon, the whole school was lined up in the auditorium. Kamoshida was standing at the front of the room. Everyone waited with bated breath, wondering what this proverbial king would say. He approached the mic and began speaking. “I...have been reborn.”

The crowd was more curious. Kamoshida continued. “During my tenure, I was not an adequate instructor. I gave in to my own self-interest, and pushed my distorted desires on the children I was supposed to teach. I’ve overworked my students. Physically abused my students. And” he let out a long, deep sigh, “sexually harassed several female students.”

The students were all in a frenzy. The teachers were unsure of what to do. And Principal Kobayakawa sweated enough bullets to load a chaingun. And yet, Kamoshida went on. “I have done various things to manipulate my students to get what I want. I have pressured them. I have spread rumors. I've even made outright threats. I can no longer live with the sins bearing on my soul.”

Kamoshida got down on his hands and knees. “I am a terrible teacher. A terrible coach. And a terrible person. Please. Someone. Kill me and put me out of my misery.” Soon there was an uproar in the auditorium. Kamoshida not only admitted his crimes, but also begged to be killed. Right there. In front of everyone.

Ren, Ryuji, and Ann were confused and a little outraged. They had ventured into the metaverse to prevent this, and yet he’s just going to give up and die? However, before any of them had a chance to speak, Shiho found her courage. “Don’t run you bastard!” she shouted, gaining the attention of everyone. They all saw the fire in her eyes. “You sent ALL of your students to Hell and back! And yet, we’re all still standing! Because we never gave up! No matter how much you made our lives agony! You have no right to run from this!”

The auditorium remained quiet until Kamoshida chuckled. “You’re right,” he said. “You’re absolutely right. Someone. Call the cops. I’m going to turn myself in and pay for my crimes.”

The crowd was chattering with themselves while the teachers tried to maintain order. There was some noticeable speculation on whether or not this was the doing of the Phantom Thieves who brazenly sent Kamoshida a calling card not too long ago. Some people thought that stealing hearts would be impossible, but others pointed out that no other explanation makes sense for Kamoshida’s sudden change in behavior.

The principal ran up to the target and took the microphone. He was clearly nervous about what just transpired here. “Well, um, in light of what just happened, I’m, um, cancelling classes for the rest of the day while we sort this all out.” There was a noticeable amount of contempt for Kobayakawa from the crowd after he said that. Still, the teachers were organizing efforts to leave, but a few decided to stick around anyways.

Notably, Ren, Ann, and Ryuji. “Man, that was something else” Ryuji commented.

“I’ll say,” Ren said. “I mean, I knew he was going to confess, but I wasn’t expecting it to be a spectacle like that.”

“Yeah,” Ann said. “But what really surprised me was Shiho.”

“Yeah” Ryuji agreed. “I mean, I was getting ready to say something like that, but I think it felt more powerful coming from her.”

“Speaking of,” Ren said. She turned in the direction of Shiho. “Let’s go.” The three of them walked over. “Hey,” Ren said, gaining Shiho’s attention. “That was really brave of you.”

“You...think so?” Shiho asked.

“Totally!” Ann answered. “You were AMAZING!”

Shiho smiled and blushed slightly. “Thanks.”

“Takamaki!” some girls called out.

The group turned to the girls. “Oh” Ann said. “What’s up?”

One of the girls began. “We’re so sorry!”

“Yeah, we believed and spread those horrible rumors about you and Kamoshida.”

“We had no idea he was pressuring you to do his bidding.”

“We’re so sorry.”

Ann smiled. “It’s OK. I was also caught up in Kamoshida’s bullshit. I know how hard it can be to see through it all. It’s not your fault.”

“But we treated you so terribly,” one of the girls said.

“How are you so willing to look past that?” the other asked.

“Well…” Ann began. “I realized something. Everything that happened was all Kamoshida’s fault. If I let how he made people think of me get to me, then he’s won. So instead, I’ve decided to not care what people think. I’m going to be myself. And if people don’t like it, then why should I care?”

“Wow” said one of the girls.

“Well, thanks anyway” the other one said. The two walked off.

“That was inspiring,” Ren said.

Ann chuckled. “I learned that from you” she said, giving Ren a light shove.

“Me?” she asked.

Ann nodded. “Yeah. You’re one of the strongest people I know.” Shiho looked at the floor. Everyone else took notice. Ann grabbed Shiho’s hand. “Shiho” Shiho looked up. “You’re also one of the strongest people I know.”

Shiho was shocked. “But...I was…”

“We know,” Ann said. “But it would be hard not to think to do that in your shoes.”

“Yeah” Ryuji said. “I almost went along with it, but something inside me said I shouldn’t.”

“You’re amazing Shiho,” Ann said. “The way you stood up to Kamoshida today. That was amazing.”

“She’s right,” Ren said. “Everyone of us was thinking that, but you summoned the courage to speak out.”

Shiho was stunned. “I guess I did,” she said.

“Shiho. You’re amazing” Ann said. “As your best friend, I’m not going to let you think otherwise.”

Shiho smiled. “Thanks Ann.” She stood silently for a second. “Alright. That’s it.” The three thieves were surprised. “I’m determined to stand on my own two feet. I’m going to bring this school’s volleyball team to nationals.”

“Woah wait, hold on” Ryuji said. “Don’t you think with Kamoshida gone, there might be some problems with that?”

“I don’t care,” Shiho said. “I’m not going to let that stop me. Kamoshida may have dragged the team down, but I will raise it up. I love volleyball, and I am determined to not let Kamoshida take that away from me anymore”

Ren smiled. “Way to go!”

“You can do it Shiho!” Ann cheered.

“Alright! I feel ya” Ryuji added.

There were some sirens blaring. Ann looked around. “We should probably head out.

“Yeah” Ryuji said. He and Ann left.

Ren started to leave, but felt Shiho grabbing her harm. “Wait,” she said. Ren turned to her as Shiho let go. “I know Ann and Ryuji well, but you’re new here. And I feel like I didn’t make a good first impression. And I’ve seen and heard how great of a friend you are to those two. So I want a second chance to make a good first impression.” She reached out her hand. “Friends?”

Ren smiled, shook Shiho’s hand, and said “Friends.”

I am thou... Thou art I… Thou hast acquired a new vow...

It shall become the wings of rebellion that breaketh thy chains of captivity.

With the birth of the Hope Persona I have obtained the winds of blessing that shall lead to freedom and new power

Hope-Shiho Suzui: Rank 1

“Oh. There you are” Ann said. Ren turned to see Ryuji and Ann walk back up to her.

“Uh, right,” Ryuj said. “There’s something else we need to discuss,” Ryuji said. “The usual place?”

Ren looked at Shiho. “It’s OK. I’ll be fine on my own. Ren smiled, knowing that she actually meant it, and headed off with her gang of thieves.

They all met on the roof. “Well, today sure was something,” Ryuji said.

“You can say that again,” Ann remarked.

Morgana hopped out on the table. “Yeah, but this is all good news. We got Kamoshida to confess, Shiho didn’t burn down the school, and I don’t know if you've heard, but people are already talking about the Phantom Thieves.”

“Yeah,” Ren said. “Overall, I’ve gotta say today was pretty good.”

“I guess you’re right,” Ryuji said. “So, does that mean we get to hawk the medal?” He began looking up stuff on his phone.

“I guess we should,” Ann said, “but wouldn’t the buyer get a little suspicious?”

“Don’t worry,” Ren said. “I think we have a prospective buyer who won’t ask too many questions.”

“Woah!” Ryuji said. “This thing can get up to 30,000 yen?!”

The thieves were shocked. “Remember that time I loaned you some money and you didn’t pay me back?” Ann asked.

“What?!” Ryuji screeched. “It wasn’t 30,000!”

“Yeah, but with interest…” Ann said.

“That’s bullshit!” Ryuji said.

“...Why don’t we do something with the money as a unit?” Morgana said, trying to cool tensions.

“Oh, I like that!” Ann said. “There’s this buffet I’ve been meaning to try. We can go and celebrate!”

“Alright, now you’re speaking my language!” Ryuji said. “A celebration of the Phantom Thieves by stuffing our faces! I love it!”

Ren grinned. “Well, I guess that’s settled.”

“So, when should we do it?” Ann asked.

“Oh, let’s go on the 5th, Children’s day!” Ryuji said. “It’s the last day of Golden Week, so it’ll be celebratory, non-conspicuous, and it’ll give us a chance to sell the medal.”

“Wow, that’s actually pretty smart of you” Ren remarked.

“Heh heh, I try,” Ryuji said. “So, that’s the plan then.”

“I think so,” Ann said.

“We’re all in agreement there,” Morgana said.

Ren nodded. “You just leave selling the medal to me.” The four left the rooftop and started heading down. Ren went to one of her jobs early, since she wanted to keep out of Sojiro’s hair. When she got back in the evening, she got a group message.

Ann: I can’t WAIT to try out this place.

Ryuji: You keep talking it up.

Ann: Sorry.

Ann: I’ve been meaning to go with Shiho, but…

Ryuji: Um, do you think she would want to come?

Ann: I already asked. She says she might be ready to go to school, but she needs time to do more things.

Ryuji: Gotcha.

Ryuji: Still, whether we can go depends on whether or not the medal is sold.

Ren: Do you not trust me?

Ryuji: It’s not that.

Ryuji: I’m just not sure I can trust someone willing to buy it off a high schooler.

Ryuji: I mean, 30,000 yen is a lot.

Ann: Especially if you rack up interest.

Ryuji: This again?

Ryuji: Look, I’m sorry I haven’t paid you back yet.

Ren: Why did you borrow money in the first place?

Ann: He REALLY wanted that dolphin.

Ren: Dolphin?

Ryuji: We were on a school field trip to an aquarium.

Ann: He bought a souvenir and didn’t have enough money for the bus back.

Ryuji: I bought it because my mom really wanted it.

Ann: ...Well, if you bought it for your mom, then I guess I can give you a pass this time.

Ann: The next time I lend you money, I expect to be paid back in full.

Ryuji: ...Thanks.

Ren: That’s a lovely story.

Ren: Well, goodnight.

Ryuji: G’night.

Ann: Goodnight.

Ren put her phone away and went to bed.

The next day she was about to leave to sell the medal when Sojiro stopped her. “Hey. Since you’re off, would you mind helping out around the cafe?”

Ren paused. Morgana whispered to her. “It should be alright. You do owe him a little, and we can always sell this tomorrow.” Ren smiled, nodded at Sojiro, and prepared herself to help out. She let Morgana roam around the neighborhood.

As the evening was drawing near, a report about the Kamoshida incident appeared on TV. “Tonight: A former Olympian medalist turned teacher was arrested after admitting to serious abuse and sexual harassment.” The TV cut to interviews with students who said various things on the subject. “While the teacher is now behind bars, there are still some questions that linger. Most notable of which was a calling card sent to Mr. Kamoshida days before he confessed to everything.”

Sojiro looked at the TV. “Hey, isn’t that your school?”

“Huh? Yeah” Ren said.

“Hm” Sojiro said. “Well, it’s a good thing he got arrested before anything happened to you, huh.”

“Yeah,” Ren said.

Sojiro paused for a moment. “Oh. Son of a BITCH!”

“What?” Ren said.

“He DID try to harass you!” Sojiro 

Ren was surprised. “What makes you say that?”

Sojiro glared. “I could tell by your voice.” He sighed. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

Ren steeled herself. “What makes you think I would?”

“I’m your guardian” he answered. “I’m supposed to protect you.”

“Psh. Only for my probation” Ren snarked. “What makes you think I should be able to trust you with this kind of thing? You don’t trust me with your house. You don’t trust me with a key to this place. Hell, you don’t even trust that I’m not a criminal.”

Sojiro glared at her. “Alright. We’re doing this.” Sojiro whipped up some coffee for the two of them. “Sit down.”

Ren was unsure of where this commanding aura was going to lead, but for now she at least trusted Sojiro enough to believe he didn’t mean her harm. She sat down across from him. “What is this then?” she asked.

Sojiro looked at her intently. “I’ve only heard the police report. What’s your side of the story?”

Ren was surprised. Would he believe me? Well, this is my chance. He’s at least willing to listen, so why not? “Some guy was trying to force a woman into his car. I stepped in between them to split them up. He was pretty drunk so he fell over. He then said he was going to sue me for assault.

Some police officers came by, and appeared to recognize him. He coerced the woman he was with to say that I had attacked him. He also asked the officer to leave his name out of it. And that’s how I got arrested.” Ren put her head in her hand. “So the question is do you believe that?”

Sojiro stared at her silently for a few seconds. He sighed. “I’ve known many people like the man you just described. I also have less faith in the system than it might appear. Your story is believable, and I don’t think you would lie to me at this point.”

Sojiro took a sip of his coffee. “So, I believe you when you say you aren’t a criminal. Now, I need you to trust me on a few things. You don’t HAVE to, I’m just asking here.” Ren nodded, sipping her coffee. Sojiro sighed. “I need you to believe me when I tell you that things at my house are complicated. I can’t fully explain why unless it becomes an absolute necessity.

BUT I also need you to believe that I have your best interest in mind. Of course I don’t want you to cause trouble, but I don’t want you to get in trouble either. If you ever get backed into a corner, I want you to know that I’ll be there. What do you say?”

Ren looked at Sojiro. His tone seemed stern, but his expression seemed pained. To Ren, it seemed like he was an authority on what would happen if you had no one to rely on. He was willing to listen to her, and he was willing to help her out in different circumstances since she got here. Just as he believed her, she needed to believe him.

She looked down. “On my first day going to school, Ann and I had met at the same intersection. That man, Mr. Kamoshida, pulled up and invited the two of us in his car. Ann told me it was alright, but I sensed hesitation in her voice. I came along just to make sure everything would be OK.

Afterwards, Ann and I got acquainted, and then I met her friend Shiho. After school, Mr. Kamoshida called me to his office.” Ren began to shake. “He wanted the two of us to get intimate, and he threatened to reveal the fact that I got arrested if I didn’t comply. But before anything could happen, Ann and Shiho found us and helped me escape.”

Ren took off her glasses and cleaned them a little bit. “The whole thing was surprising to say the least. I couldn’t imagine how brazen he could be. And, in all honesty, I felt trapped between a rock and a hard place. I honestly have no clue what I would have done if Ann and Shiho hadn’t rescued me.”

Sojiro looked at her. “If I knew anyone I trusted in prison, I’d pay them to just beat the living shit out of this person.”

Ren was curious. “So, you know people in prison?”

“That’s...not the point right now,” Sojiro said. “The point is, I’m glad you were able to open up with me like that. It couldn’t have been easy, but…”

Ren smiled. “I getchu,” she said.

Sojiro chuckled. “You’re pretty strong. After going through everything you did, you seem to be still standing well on your own.”

“Well, here’s the thing,” Ren said. “I’m not on my own. I have my friends, and I have you.”

Sojiro was surprised. “Eheh. Well, thank you.” Sojiro smiled. “I know that when the time is right, I’ll have you as well. Here” he said, sliding a key towards her. “I had this made yesterday. I was going to give it to you regardless, but I think after our talk, now’s the time to give it to you.”

Ren picked up the key and smiled. “Thanks.”

Hierophant-Sojiro Sakura: Rank 3

Ren finished her coffee, and went upstairs to her bed.

[onisiondrama]

PART 7 - video #13

(Click here for mirrors)

what’s up

(Sorry for the offensive language in this one. He’s pretty pissed.) - He wants to discuss the legal case. He filed an anti harassment protection order against two individuals. One of them has been harassing him for the last 8-10 years. This person deleted earlier videos, but Greg’s life is this guys’s obsession. It’s crazy how obsessed he is. Greg is no doubt on this guy’s mind 24/7. It’s creepy and weird. Lately he’s been documenting ever aspect of every interaction he has in Greg’s world. The dude just make $20,000 on attorney’s fees on a case Greg had dismissed. You guys payed some dude to show up to court and hear the case was dismissed. Numbskulls. If you’re a Youtuber and someone tells you to stop talking about them, why would you hire an attorney to go into court and speak for you? Dude couldn’t even speak for himself. He was just sat there smirking like a jackass while he’s losing his hair and gets fatter. Total idiot, punk ass bitch. Greg was overwhelmed be how much of a bitch he was. - Greg was standing there with his bulletproof vest and people wonder why he was wearing that. “Christina Grimmie anyone?” He knows she wasn’t shot in the bulletproof vest area, but life is a danger when you show up to a court room where a bunch of people thinks you prey on children. Where are the children by the way? Who even made this up? Because he was blackmailed into sleeping with an 18 year old, now he’s into kids? He doesn’t understand the leap in logic. - The other person the case was against was someone who used to specialize in going after people who go after children. He’s trying to make it look like Greg would want to go after a child like that. It’s pathetic and one of the dumbest thing he’s ever seen. When he dated Shiloh when she was 17 1/2. They spoke to the police and they cleared him of any inappropriate images on his computer and everything. He was 100% cleared with Shiloh. Another relationship where he’s still married to the person, so that worked out. Another relationship where someone was 19. Another who was 18 1/2. Someone we don’t know about was 26. Someone we don’t talk about was 24. The wife before was 24 when they separated. People obsess over these relationships and try to relate it to children. They don’t want to go after people who go after 12 year old, they go after people who date adults. - Says this is the funniest thing: “Well they’re still mentally a child,” There are 50 year olds who are mentally a child and there are 18 year olds that are mentally 90. That’s a fact. When he was 17 he had the maturity of a 40 year old male. He was a little dark and goth, but very capable.  - At the court case Greg is sitting across from this pasty, greasier than him, looks like he never saw the sun in his life, beta male, pathetic, he’s definitely getting a double chin soon.[Greg is laughing] He’s smirking at the judge and Greg thought he was an idiot because he’s smirking in court like an ass hat. Judges likes to see people taking it seriously. - Greg went to court and asked for it to get dismissed because anti harassment protection orders are more open and close when the person isn’t a public figure. The problem is you have an ex who hates your guts and now he wants to stalk you, that’s illegal. Now he started a tumblr about you so now in court he just has to say he’s protected by the Constitution, freedom of the press and freedom of speech. Your lawyer can argue that they’re a stalker, but that’s stressful. Now you have to argue the constitution. He avoided going in there and arguing the constitution against people who are Youtubers, not journalists. Journalism used to mean you work for someone, now it means you have a blog. - [This section is sarcasm btw.] Chris is still a journalist even though he was released from his contract after someone killed themselves. He’s a journalist because he livestreams, which is what a 13 year old could do. Congratulations. - Being a youtuber isn’t a prideful thing. If you think you’re a big deal because you have a few million subscribers, you’re a joke, Youtube is a joke. Youtubers who take themselves seriously and think they have an impact on the world are jokes. They’re all pathetic because there are real hardworking people out there like soldiers, construction workers, and scholars. Youtubers are morons. - Real journalists go to Iraq or go in a storm and talk about the weather. A journalist isn’t a dude who works with a dude who is perused in court for sexual assault while dating a much younger women while going after people online who date younger women and act like they’re predators. That’s “retard paradox.” - A journalist from Newsweek approached him in the courthouse and it was one of the most bleh experiences he had in his life. “Pathetic” is too much of a dignified word for this person. He walked up to Greg and said, “yo Onision. I really want to hear your side of the story. I’m not anti-o. I really just care about the truth, you know?” Greg ignored him and kept looking at his phone. The guy said, “Ok I get it, I get it. You don’t trust me but you gotta know you can trust me.” Greg wanted him to fuck off. He doesn’t trust a single reporter on this earth because they are looking for headlines, just like Youtubers. Especially Newsweek. The articles they write about him are totally baseless. They don’t care. He sees no credentials. He sees someone who flunked out of high school or didn’t go to any journalism school working for Newsweek. This guy followed Greg into the bathroom even though he knew Greg didn’t want to talk to him. “Just say one word Greg.” His name is JAMES. [He lists his old names.] They’re too stupid to get his name right. “I’m Greg James bitch!” [I have no idea what he’s quoting but he’s been saying that for a while now.] - He gets in the court room and there are emo girls with dyed hair everywhere. Fucking morons. “When did this court room become a clown show?” He mimics them giggling and saying “that’s onision.” He says he should have just brought mace. [He pretends to spray mace onto the people in the court room and laughs.] These chicks are taking pictures and saying look at his snow boots. He says he doesn’t have dress shoes so he wore snow boots. Those are his ass kicking boots. One stomp and you’re done. He came prepared for war. - Hansen’s lawyer comes up and says he was never served so they want it dismissed even though he’s well aware he’s supposed to be here cuz he sent me. Legally, Greg guesses, you have to get served in order to show up, but Chris publicly acknowledged he was supposed to be there. He could fly across the country to have the cops called on him but he can’t fly across the country to show up in court. Pussy, moron, douche bag. Where is the money going? What is he spending it on? His debts? You guys don't realize you're getting played because you paid someone $20,000 for $2,500 in fees, which he says probably wasn’t even that much because the case was open and close. The attorney wasn’t even there for an hour. You have pussy boy who has an attorney speaking for him and Greg speaks for himself. He tells the judge he got legal advise and is taking a different legal avenue. He is literally doing it right now. - Some dumb ass hoes, dumb ass bitches follow him into the elevator. This girl was sitting next to her sugar daddy who had a beard and was a blimp. She’s holding up her camera and she was a midget and she asks him if he’s having a good day. He’s standing there thinking, “all these stupid ass whooohhmmms”. [seems like he was going to say whores but stopped himself] He’s silent because if he says anything it would wind up being te-he-he bullshit. He had sunglasses on so he didn’t have to look at the dumb bitch in the eyes. - 2nd floor happens, elevator opens. No one got out. Bitches are going to follow him all the way to the first floor. They’re there because they want to see the circus, they’re the clowns in the circus. He was surrounded by fucking idiots. They show up because they want him to do what? Like when Hansen showed up at his house he was surprised Greg’s obviously fake videos weren’t real because he’s a boomer. He asks if people could start saying “ok boomer” because this is an actual boomer. He does math and says not exactly, but pretty much. - Court was stupid. He didn’t have a good time. He treated himself to taco bell and treated people to dinner because he saved money by not hiring an attorney. He knows the other guys spent a shit load of money. It’s amazing they could have done it for free. They hired an attorney so they could continue to harass someone. How low life is that? If someone took him to court for harassment he would just stop talking about them. He could move on. - When you file an anti-harassment protection order you can’t talk about that person either so it’s like a mutual contract to F off. He says that last thing was just speculation. He doesn’t know what the actual rules are.  - He thinks it’s creepy and says a lot about a person when they fight an anti-harassment protection order. Why is it so hard to leave people alone? They’re harassers, it fits the definition. Not everyone is sane or reasonable. Just gotta keep going at it. People will keep cashing in on Greg. Greg owns all the channels. They get the revenue, but Greg gets the face time because they always think about him. Their whole job is him. “Fuck you.” He doesn’t know how you could waste the most precious thing you were given, life, on someone you hate. - He tells the emo girls that showed up to court to get a fucking haircut and to dye their hair a normal color.

[toonstarterz]

BECAUSE I’M NOT POPULAR, I’LL READ WATAMOTE: CHAPTER #167

Hey, I’m not dead!

Yeah, sorry that took a while. Had a lot of real-life shit to work through, honestly. In any case, I finally sat my butt down to really crack down on yet another fun-tastical chapter. Tomoko’s actually doing what a lot of quasi-incel degenerates are afraid to do in high school and is taking an actual stab at self-improvement. Will karma rear its ugly head, or is the series now beyond that point?

Chapter 167: Because I’m Not Popular, I’ll Spend My Time Wisely unlike me

This is a really pretty shot and...that’s about it. Real pretty. 

Oh dear! The friendship disease has disrupted Tomoko’s gremlin-like body clock and has her waking up early like a healthy human being!

Reminds of that one Gintama episode. You know, that one with Kagura and the sick kid and you don’t care, do you?

I know Japan prides itself on its cheap, quality goods, but Tomoko is a real penny-pincher, eh? Well, she’s a Gen Zer, so I can’t complain.

Not sure if this makes me sound like a perv or whatever, but hot damn, the detail on this model is stupidly good. I mean, just look at the patterning on that bra. You can really tell when Ikko’s really getting into the art.

They’re really milking the armpit fetish, aren’t they?

Tomoko...sweetie...my girl...

You don’t even have a dick. I mean, sure, you could find it fascinating from a purely educational, not-applicable-to-you perspective. And yeah, I suppose it could be useful if you were to start a sexual relationship with a noncanonical male. But to be honest, I can’t help but take it as more signs of your gender dysphoria here. 

I mean, hey, whatever floats your boat.  

Well, they say kids learn more about practical knowledge out in the real world than in school, don’t they? 

Then again, coughgoogleitcough.

I always thought Tomoko was just having some kind of psychosomatic experience when she talks about being de-energized from a lack of sexual stimulation. 

Now I’m inches from calling that shit an actual, physiological withdrawal.

Ah, the good ol’ days. Back when future prospects felt like a lifetime away and you could spend days on end dicking around, lamenting the need to get serious, and disregarding your resolve right after because you secretly didn’t really care.

...I gotta stop projecting.

Despite Tomoko proving time and again that she can be a crass-hole with a negative outlook on life, it’s when she does childish things like laying your head on your arm when studying and cuddling her plushies that her innocent side pops up and you realize that Tomoko’s a legitimate cutie. 

Fake-smoking? Tomoko, stop! If you keep this up, you’ll turn from a deconstruction of a cute, moe girl to becoming an actual cute, moe girl.

I only just noticed that Tomoko’s wearing a “happy” shirt. Remember when she was sporting the “alone” shirt back in year one? Even her clothes get character development.

Oh, shit. Your girl Yuu-chan talking this whole cram school thing seriously even though she’s at a disadvantage. You see, this is why Yuu is literally the best. Despite being at the “top” of the school clique food chain, she has not once ever felt like “bottomfeeders” like Tomoko and Komi were below her in any way. Sure, she knows they’re weirdos, but she makes those acknowledgments without judgement, and all while putting herself on the same leveling field. She doesn’t love them ironically–she loves them sincerely, and that’s why Yuu is awesome. 

Sorry if this turned into a ramble, but Yuu only gets like, one panel of dialogue nowadays and I wanted to make the most of it. 

Tomoko be raising that “phone-call” flag like a motherfucking chad. 

...

...

...

Oh, sorry. I saw Yuri with her hair down and lost track of time.

...

...

...

Damn, Yuri’s pretty.

Black leggings at home? That’s exactly the kind of conservative attire Yuri would wear and only Yuri could look amazing in. Seriously, If Ikko hadn’t become a manga artist, she would have made a damn fine fashion designer.

And Tomoko be crushing that “home-visit” flag like a motherfucking chode.

I could make a pretty tasteless joke about how “haha, Yuri will never look at you like you’re trash like she does at Tomoko,” but, 

a. it’s just the angle of the smartphone like Yuri said, and

b. you’d probably prefer to get denied like that, wouldn’t you?

I can’t help but wonder if Tomoko realizes just how homoerotic she sounds. Like, does she have any inclination that her borderline-sexual harassment jokes could easily be misconstrued as flirting? Sure, she might be using the old excuse that “we’re both girls, so it’s fine right?”, but given that Tomoko at least knows about LGBTQ+, you’d think it would have at least crossed her mind.

Or maybe, on a sadder note, Tomoko doesn’t see it as flirting because she really does have zero faith in her own attractiveness...  

There is no heterosexual reason for this exchange whatsoever.

Alright, so I’m a dude, so...hell do I know. But do girls typically not wear bras when just lounging around the house? I know Tomoko is the kind to just wear tank tops if she can help it, but I always thought that was a characterization unique to her, and that other girls wear bras for the comfort and support like any other undergarment. I mean, sure, Yuri’s kind of reserved, but I wouldn’t think wearing a bra at home would be considered an oddity, yeah? I ask this out of genuine curiosity, but I’ll stop before it gets too creepy.

Side note, you can officially tell when Yuri gets pissed by her nose crinkles.

I could give a long, analytical spiel about why Yuri didn’t give Tomoko a straight answer and speculate on what she was doing, but I eventually realized the answer was actually really simple:

It didn’t fucking matter to the story.

The last time Tomoko had one of these “I know!” moments, she ended up trimming her pubes on a class trip. But surely Tomoko’s character growth wouldn’t allow something like that to happen again, would it not?  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Adorbs.

Can’t fight awkward with awkward, can you?

Tomoko, what are you playing at? You just said that video chatting was erotic and tried to get Yuri to lewd herself for you. And now you were planning to appear on-screen totally naked and you somehow don’t see any sexual implications for this at all? Finding it funny would be an elementary schooler’s mentality. If you seriously have no confidence in your sexuality, then sweetheart, you need some help. 

You ever notice that Tomoko can lie through her teeth when trying to screw with people, but when lying to be nice, it sounds so phony? I think that says a lot about the kind of person she is.

Ya’ll knew I was gonna add this panel, didn’t you?

I was never one to go crazy about blushing anime girls ‘cause to me, it always felt like it stemmed from some sadistic desire to see girls look uncomfortable. So while I can’t get behind it for reasons like that, I can admit that Yuri’s blush is fucking precious and I think that’s because I love seeing her so emotionally transparent for once. It feels rare, raw and well-earned after all this time, so yeah. A++ 

Oh, Tomoko, if only you knew that skill often has nothing to do with it. Yuri’s not embarrassed because she sucks at humming, but because you saw a side of her that she only lets out in private. Trying to reassure her is a good move, but putting the girl on blast like that is not going to end well.  

I felt like the vibration alone would’ve left a huge-ass crack on Yuri’s phone screen. This whole moment is like eleven tiers of funny because even though Tomoko is probably miles away, the impact of Yuri’s punch still jostles her. It also helps that we can visibly see Yuri’s fist come down mere millimeters from Tomoko’s mug. 

There is no escaping her wrath, Tomoko.

I feel you, girl. For me, nothing beats a good ol’ burger and fries after a hard day of studying.

Careful there, Tomoko. If there’s one thing that studying has taught me (other than I hate it), it’s that you could get serious burn out if you go all-out on the first day, especially if you’re typically not a regular studier. Always make sure to get dem breaks in. 

That sounds like the kind of line you’d see in a mainstream shounen action manga like [ ]. I don’t even have a direct reference here, so feel free to fill in the blank.

Hey, with Tomoko’s luck, I was expecting karma to hit her harder than Truck-kun in an isekai anime, so I consider this a small loss. 

Man, remember when we were young and had ambitions as high as the sky, and we all wanted to change the world by being firefighters, astronauts, idols, and presidents?

Kind of sucks that “financial stability” has become our goal in life as we enter adulthood. Perhaps that’s just the mindset creative-types like Tomoko have towards the STEM industry when it’s hard to see what makes that world so personally fulfilling. 

Oops, my opinions are starting to seep in, so let's move on.

Nooo, don’t do it, Nico Tanigawa Tomoko! Don’t sell out your passions for financial security even though it’s a totally viable career decision! How else are we going to validate the pursuit of our artistic dreams?  

How in the hell is Tomoko balancing that drink? I’m willing to let it pass for rule of cute, but I don’t care how secure that cup is. One wrong move and those practice sheets are done for. 

Jesus Christ, Nemo is on some otherworldly dimension of cute right here.

I don’t even think Tomoko is trying to one-up her or anything. This is already the most effort she’s given to study in a single instance, so I think she genuinely just wants to share this personal accomplishment.

You know, while it’s already been established that Tomoko and Nemo have different tastes in anime, that doesn’t necessarily mean they wouldn’t watch the same show, right? Just for different reasons. While Nemo would watch her cute slice-of-life series earnestly, Tomoko would probably watch them ironically MST3K-style. In any case, it’s a good way for them to find some common ground.

Bruh, Nemo must be over the fucking moon for this opportunity. Think about it: when was the last time she’s had someone to watch anime with her? After concealing her power level for so long, this could be the first time Nemo has had a fellow anime fan to geek out over a series with. And not just discussing it afterward, but actually reacting to a live episode together.  

Nemo may give Tomoko all kinds of shit, but this is actually what she wanted all along, wasn’t it?

Boy, Tomoko sure gets pretty demanding when she’s sleep-deprived, huh? I’d hate to see how loose her inhibitions get when she’s stark-raving drunk.  

Is this referencing the Quintessential Quintuplets anime? I don’t know anything about it other than that’s a kickass title.

Hey now, Tomoko, beggars can’t be choosers. Let Nemo give you the play-by-play at her own pace. She’s even acknowledging that you hate the source magazine without a hint of judgment. She’s gonna go places.

At first, I thought all this recent armpit content was just an incidental joke. Then I thought it was the mangaka slyly inserting their fetish into the series. Then I realized the series turned the joke on its head and made it a meta-reference about their very thing their readers were accusing them of. 

Well played.  

You ain’t slick with that leg service, Nino Tanigawa. Just sayin’.

Seriously though, I love the dynamic going on in this conversation. Tomoko and Nemo are approaching the discussion from different outlooks, the former looking at it from a degenerate’s perspective and the latter looking at it more optimistically. But even so, they’re not trying to “get the upper hand” like they might've done before. They’re simply having a totally organic talk about what they do and don’t like about the series, while still recognizing each other’s personal preferences. For once, it’s completely devoid of passive aggressiveness and it really shows how earnest their friendship has become.

At some point, I think Tomoko’s consumed so much near-pornographic content that pretty much all anime, manga, VNs, etc. looks like the same hentai to her.  

Every fiber of my being says that this is a reference to Komi-san Can’t Communicate, but it could just as well be the mangaka shooting themselves in the foot for a good joke. In any case, I do like how they point out shy, socially awkward girls is a rising trend that borders on romanticizing communication problems. 

Does that make Watamote a hipster manga since it did the whole “social anxiety girl” shtick before it was cool? 

I wanted to make a pretentious joke about how basic that anime sounds and how I’m so above a show that panders to the masses, but even I like junk food, so I’ll spare you the hypocritical humor.

If Ucchi caught a glimpse of this, she’d probably explode right on the spot.

I spent a good five minutes trying to decipher how Tomoko’s sleeping expression could be seen as “happy”, and I realized that it’s not that she looks happy. It’s that she doesn’t look unhappy. I’d imagine that those plagued by anxiety and stress have it evident on their face when they sleep, so the fact that Tomoko fell asleep in relative bliss must mean she’s had a pretty satisfying day. To top it all off, this is one of the few times someone–and Nemo of all people–has seen Tomoko in all her vulnerability. 

And you know what? Nothing bad happened. No punchline undermining the moment, no sarcastic quip, no embarrassment. Just genuine sweetness and it really speaks to the series’ faith in its heartwarming moments.

As a final note, I just wanted to thank everyone again for their patience. I’ve been trying to put a fresh spin on this, making it a little more comedic since its honestly getting harder to “analyze” without constantly repeating myself. It’s a lot of fun, and I hope you guys enjoy it for what it is.

[this-is-krikkit]

What made you think Michelle was the one who was gay irl? I think the majority of people thought it was Emma before actually checking 😄

dude, i don’t know. i think it comes down to blind “luck” in the end? but if i try to rationalize it, i’d say:

the “we come in all shapes and sizes” moment when V pretended to be a lesbian to get rid of that dude back in 2017. i found out about one of the actresses being gay only a few days before watching that ep, and that’s probably why that moment made me tick as much as it did. like i didn’t go “that’s it that’s the gay one she’s gotta be gay irl!!” but it made me really “suspicious” that it was her, because i wouldn’t expect a straight woman to get so defensive over lesbophobia, or to use that pronoun as easily as she did 

Vanessa freaking out and having a hard time accepting her sexuality, while Charity gave not one shit about it. because, hear me out: what show gets a straight actress and an openly gay actress to play a lesbian couple, and decides that the straight one is going to be given that self-acceptance storyline, while the gay one plays the woman who couldn’t care less about her sexuality? now i’m not saying all queer people have a hard time accepting themselves or even freak out when they realize they’re lgbt, it’s not my own experience, but it is unfortunately insanely common

Charity outing her to everyone (which i’m still mad over, because what the fuck, but that’s not the topic here); same train of thoughts: who asks a known gay actress to play someone who outs someone else?? i mean yeah it’s possible, and some queer actors may have no problem with it, but that would still be kind of a dick move on the writing/producing team’s part, wouldn’t it? especially if the character had no "good reason” (is there a good reason to out someone, ever?) to do that. 

final and super valid argument, i find Emma so, so much more attractive, i am so in love with the character she plays (and it does have a little to do with her looks), that i think i had this weird wlw reflex of immediately going “she’s the one you’re most into, therefore she gotta be straight”, you know?

obviously none of this is solid and logical, i mostly had a feeling that i can’t explain, and the only reason i did is because i knew that one of them wasn’t straight (otherwise i wouldn’t even have thought of the possiblity, because speculating over ppl’s sexual orientation makes me uncomfortable).

[thatkinkytrashcan]

Broken Blades pt. 6

Summary: After a moment of desperate passion between brothers, Vergil falls into the hands of their father's greatest enemy.  With his very mind and soul stolen by Mundus, Vergil knows nothing but the want to fulfill his Master's every desire.  And to protect their precious son, Nero.

Pairings: Dante/Vergil, Vergil/Mundus, Vergil & Nero, Dante & Nero

Warnings/Tags: Sibling incest, DT sex, knotting, cum inflation, m-preg, Vergil is Nero’s mom, rape/dub-con, mental and emotional manipulation, brainwashing, amnesia and identity issues, forced c-section without anesthesia, child abuse, threat of future sexual violence made to a child, Mundus is a really bad parent, rampant speculation on demon/half-demon biology

VI.         Tempering

Nero skidded around the corner, heart going a mile-a-minute.  He hadn't expected to be chased by demons before he even made it to the stairs.  If Father were here, they wouldn't have dared to even approach him, but on his own he was a sitting duck.

"Just leave me alone!" Nero shouted as he barreled forward--

Right into a solid, living mass.  Hands grabbed his shoulders, and Nero lashed out with his fists, pummeling whatever beast thought to touch him.  

"Whoa there!  You're the one that ran into me!"

The voice lacked the demonic distortion he was used to, and Nero glanced up and into a face that made him gawk.  "M-Mom?"

Silver eyebrows rose as the man in red stared back with a strange expression.  "Uh, not your mom, but…  Who are you?"

It was weird how much this man looked like Mom, from the color of his eyes to the line of his nose and the shape of his jaw.  Was this guy the 'other one' Father was talking about?  Hope jumped into his throat.  "I'm Nero.  Who're you?  Are you here to help us?"

"Name's Dante," the man said, still staring.  "And who's 'us'?"

"Me and Mom," Nero said urgently.  If Father was worried about this guy, then he might be just the right person.  "You've gotta help us get out of here!  My Father is really bad, and he hurts Mom and--"

"Slow down there, kid.  Not that I don't want to help, but who exactly is your dad?"

Nero hesitated, fingers gripping at the straps on Dante’s vest.  "Mundus, the Emperor of Hell…"

Dante's eyes widened in surprise but quickly narrowed.  “Someone told you he’s your father, huh?  Okay.  Why don't you take me to your mom, and I'll see what I can do."

"This way!"  Nero grabbed his gloved hand and tried to tug him along, but Dante scooped him up off his feet and under one arm instead.

Ignoring Nero's indignant shout, the man in red smirked at him.  "I’ve got it covered, kid.  And I'll be pretty mad if you try to roast this kid, Trish."

"I wouldn't dream of it."  Nero frowned at the human-looking artificial demon who flipped her hair over her shoulder.  He’d seen her briefly before, running some errands and kneeling to Father while he gloated.  Her smile was cold but she took a few steps backward when Dante aimed his sword at her.

"Because he's your boss's kid?" Dante asked.  "Or because he's Verg--?"

"All I was supposed to do is make sure he wasn't hurt," she said, hands up.  "I'll take him back where he'll be safe if you'll let me."

Dante cocked his head, watching her for a second before he looked down at Nero again.  Then he grinned.  "Hold on tight."

With a burst of speed and a crackle of demonic energy, Dante was past Trish and down the hall before she could react.  Nero dug his fingers into whatever he could, though the arm around him was secure enough that he probably wouldn't go flying off.  Probably.

"You're like Mom!" Nero cried in delight.  A half-demon!  Maybe that was why they looked so much alike?

"Guess we'll find out," Dante said, voice echoing with power.  "Which way?"

"Left!" Nero said.  "Right!  Right again!"

They zoomed down the corridors, blowing by the sentries and leaving them in shambles.  Dante was amazing, and Nero started to really hope he could save them.  Father was strong, but he wasn't fast.  Maybe Dante could outrun him!

"That big door over there!"  Nero pointed to the partially open doorway, and Dante lowered his shoulder to shove it the rest of the way open.  It banged loudly against the wall while Dante stumbled to a halt and set Nero back on his feet.

"Not sure how much time we'll have before someone comes, so where's your mother--"  The red man's jaw snapped shut, and his devil shape blinked back into human.

Mom had frozen where he'd been hurrying across the room toward them and stared wide-eyed at Dante.  Thankfully, he’d put on some clothes since it would’ve been embarrassing to explain that to a stranger.

"Don't worry, Mom," Nero said, running over to grab his hand.  "He's here to help us!"

"Vergil?" Dante whispered, and he physically shook himself, expression hardening.  "I knew it!  The second I saw that kid, I knew he had to be your-- Wait.  Did you call him Mom?"

Nelo Angelo swept Nero behind him, putting himself between them and taking a defensive stance.  "I don't know… who you are… but…"

"Mom?"  Nero grabbed for his hand again.  "Mom, are you okay?  Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine.  I just… I need…"  He clutched at his head, breathing hard, and a bolt of fear hit Nero hard.  Had Father come back?  Had he done something to Mom?  This was bad.

"What do you mean you don't know who I am?" Dante asked.  "What the hell is going on here, Vergil?"

Nelo Angelo clenched his jaw tight, and a bead of sweat dripped off his face.  "Stop calling me that.  I don't… know you.  We don't need you… to save us!"

"Mom, please.  He can help us," Nero said, squeezing his mother's shaking fingers.  "I don't want Father to hurt you ever again, so please!"

Dante was curiously still, gaze darting from Nero to Nelo Angelo and back like he was figuring something out.  "Your mom…"  Slowly he reached up and pulled something from underneath his shirt, and Nero gasped.  A silver amulet.  Exactly like the one Mom wore all the time, just a different metal.  "You don't know me, huh?" Dante said.

"That… That's…!"  Nelo Angelo trembled and fell to his knees.  He squeezed his eyes shut and turned away.

"That bastard did something to you, didn't he?" Dante pressed, coming a few steps closer but stopping when Mom dragged Nero into his protective arms.  "And him being Mundus' kid?  Bullshit.  What's the truth, Vergil?  Who's his real father?"

Nero's jaw hung loose in shock.  Could this guy be right?  Was he really not Mundus' son?  Never in his life had he questioned what he'd been told, but if there was even a sliver of possibility, he was going to cling to it.

"I don't know you," Nelo Angelo protested, but even Nero thought it sounded weak.  "I don't… I…"

Dante dangled the amulet from his fist and took another step towards them.  "You've gotta remember, Vergil.  Whatever he did to you, fight it.  You're stronger than him, I know it!"

"You're wrong.  I'm not strong.  I can't fight him.  I could never--"  Nelo Angelo pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, struggling for breath.  "I can't."

The sound of scuttling demons coming down the corridor made Nero tense up.  He turned to Dante but knew he didn't have to say anything from the look on Dante's face.  It was taught and serious when he glanced over his shoulder at the door.  "I'm going to end this, Vergil.  Whatever it takes, I'll set you free."

"Wait!"  Nero grabbed the necklace around his mother's neck, pulling in just the right way so the clasp came loose like he’d done by accident a few times when he was younger.  He threw it to the stranger who was promising everything he wanted.  "You need this!"

"Nero!  What are you doing?!" Nelo Angelo exclaimed.  He started to get up, but even just looking at Dante seemed to be causing him a lot of pain, and he sank back down.

"If you have that, the guards won't attack you," Nero said quickly.  "Father… Mundus said that will open some of the inner doors too."

Dante looked down at the gold amulet in his hand and then smiled at Nero.  It was soft, gentle in a way that no one but Mom had ever looked at him, and he felt unexpectedly warm.  "Thanks, Nero.  You just look after your mom.  I'll come back for you both, I promise.  You don't have to be afraid anymore."

The man in red spun around and raced out the door.

"What have you done?  You've sent him to his death, and when Master finds out that you helped him..." Nelo Angelo whispered.

Nero lifted his chin, refusing to let the hope give in to the fear.  "I did it to save you, Mom.  Because I love you.  Dante's going to win, and then we'll be safe."

Nelo Angelo -- or was it really Vergil?  Nero wasn't sure what to think yet -- leaned back on his heels and pulled Nero into his arms again.  "I… hope you're right."

They stayed like that for a long, long time, hanging on to each other for support, until the whole castle started to shake.  Nero got up and tugged his mother with him out into the hall.

"I… I can't possibly leave!" Mom said, hesitating just outside the door.  "Without Master here, I can't--"

"I'm not leaving you," Nero insisted.  "And I'm not staying here.  You're coming with me, Mom.  Please."

He saw the flicker in his mother's blue eyes and knew he wouldn't refuse.  Mom could never refuse when Nero pulled out the magic word.  "L-let's go, then.  Just be careful," Nelo Angelo said.

Maybe it wasn't smart to go running when Dante had said he'd come back, but Nero had a feeling.  He yanked everytime his mother wavered, not stopping as they hurried down through the halls and to the stairs.  The lack of demonic guards was a relief, and Nero even felt a moment of spiteful satisfaction thinking of what Dante must have done to them.

They spiraled down the stairs, passing several floors, and Nero started to realize he'd never gone this far from their rooms.  They reached the bottom before he'd come up with a plan.

"Um, I think… This way?"  Nero glanced at his mother who seemed even less sure than he was.  "Yeah, this way.  Let's go!"

He grabbed Mom's hand again and headed in the direction he felt a welcoming tug from.  The presence seemed like it was getting nearer.

"Vergil!  Nero!"  Dante appeared around the corner, looking a little beat up but grinning like a maniac.  "Great timing.  We gotta go."

"I told you, Mom," Nero looked up at his mother whose face was pinched with pain, and he towed him along.  "It's gonna be okay now.  Dante's going to help us.  Everything will be just--"

The moment they made it into the main entrance hall, the ground rumbled.  He saw Trish's eyes go wide just as the floor collapsed out from under them.  Nero tried to hold on to Mom as best he could, getting the wind knocked out of him when Nelo Angelo landed partly on top of him, but they both were in good enough shape to scramble to their feet.

"Nero!" Nelo Angelo gasped and pulled him close.  "Nero, are you hurt?  Please tell me you're alright!"

"I'm okay, don't worry," Nero said quickly.  He looked around the underground chamber, finding himself in thigh deep water.  It was cold, but not unbearable.  He spotted Dante and the demoness just a little further in.

Then the world ripped apart.

It was like someone shredded a hole in the wall right through to the Underworld.  The horrible, snarling, too-many-eyed blob that lurched partway through the gap wasn't like any demon Nero had ever seen, but he knew what it was anyway.  Father was now just as ugly on the outside as he was on the inside.

Nelo Angelo hauled Nero as far away as they could get, curling over his son protectively.  "N-no… No, no, no!" he babbled.  "Master, forgive me!  We didn't mean to leave!"

"Wicked little whore!" Mundus snarled, massive hand pawing through the water.  "I should have known your foul bloodline would betray me again.  I'm going to kill you and that half-breed spawn of yours like I should have when I found you!"

Nero felt his mother suck in a breath against his spine only for it to stutter back out.

"No one talks to my brother like that," Dante said menacingly.  He held up two weapons Nero had never seen the likes of and aimed them at Mundus.  "You lied to them all this time, didn't you?  Nero was never your kid at all.  He's mine, and there's no way in hell I'm letting you lay a hand on either of them!"

Mouth dropping open, Nero could only stare in shock as the blonde demon lent her power to Dante and the pair blasted Mundus back through the rift.  He flinched when Father -- No, not Father, he thought -- tried to hang on and pull himself back through.

"Dante, I will return!  And I will rule this world!" Mundus shrieked, clawing vainly at the edges of the portal until his grip gave way.

"Goodbye!" Dante taunted with a salute.  "And when you do come back, give my regards to Nero when he puts a sword through your ugly face, will ya?"

The gate snapped shut with a rush of air, cutting off Mundus' desperate scream, and Nelo Angelo scrambled forward, sloshing through the water toward the empty space.  “No, Master, don’t leave me!  Master, I need you!  Please come back!”

Grabbing onto his Mother’s waist, Nero dug in his heels and practically picked the man up off his feet.  “Mom, stop!  He’s gone, okay?  We don’t need him anymore!”

“How can you say that?!”  Nelo Angelo spun to face his son, eyes wild and lost.  “I need to go to him, don’t you understand?  I need to--”

“So you’ll just leave me?  Are you going to abandon me for him?”  Nero set his teeth, but he knew the words had struck hard by the horror that washed over Mom’s face.  With shaking hands, Nelo Angelo reached out and cupped his jaw, mouth opening without any sound.

Dante’s hand on Mom’s shoulder seemed to break the moment’s spell.  His eyes were full of the love that had always been absent from Mundus.  “I don’t know everything he did to you, Vergil, but swear I’ll help you get back to yourself.  Just as soon as we get off this stupid island…”

"We're too late!" Trish cried over the sound of stones falling and splashing into the water.  

"No, Trish.  It's never too late."  Dante yanked them all out of the way as a big… thing came falling down.  Nero had never seen anything like it before, but the huge smirk on Dante's face told him it was something good.  "Com'on, gang.  This is our ride!"

Dante pulled Mom up first, saying something quiet to him but not pausing even when Nelo Angelo -- Vergil barely responded.  He looked like he was in some kind of daze.  Trish was next, cramming into the seat with Mom, and then Dante easily lifted Nero up and into the contraption to sit on Mom’s lap.  "You ready to blow this joint?" Dante asked, and Nero grinned back.

The rest happened fast.  The plane, as Dante called it, turned out to be able to fly.  It was noisy and shook almost as badly as the castle, but it lifted them into the air and away.  The island exploded just as they got clear, shock waves making the plane rock for a terrifying moment.  Dante just laughed and pretty soon Nero did too.

He’d never felt so weightless in his life.  The constant fear, worrying that Mundus would go too far and seriously hurt Mom, that Mundus would decide that Nero wasn’t good enough and just get rid of him.  He hadn’t realized how heavy it was until now.

Trish stared out at the sky, trying to take it all in at once.  Nero couldn't blame her.  He'd seen pictures in books, but this was something else. "The sky!" she exclaimed. "So clear! So blue!"

"Sure is.  What do you think, Nero?  You like it out here?"  Dante glanced over his shoulder.

"It's amazing!" Nero cried.  He wanted to say more, to ask a million questions, but Mom's silence was starting to worry him.  He could feel how tense Vergil was against him.  "Mom, it's gonna be okay now," Nero said, hugging him again.

His mother blinked as if he'd just woken up from a terrible dream.  Looking down, Vergil lifted a hand and gently ran his fingers through Nero's hair.  "Y-yes…  It hurts, but… You're here.  You're safe, and that's what matters."

"We're both safe," Nero stressed, laying his head against Mom's shoulder.  "Dante told us the truth.  He saved us."

"And you don't have to worry anymore," Dante piped up as the plane banked off toward land.  "I'll look after you two as long as you'll let me.  You’re stuck with me now!"

"That…" Vergil started only to cut off for a moment.  Nero glanced up and saw a new clarity in his mother's eyes that made his heart warm.  "That doesn't sound so bad at all."

Previous: https://thatkinkytrashcan.tumblr.com/post/631365355814748160/broken-blades-pt-5 Next: https://thatkinkytrashcan.tumblr.com/post/631365536305053696/broken-blades-pt-7

[oliivverwood]

retweet

marcus/oliver + social media for @rlversongs

LONG POST- idk how to put the keep reading from my phone sorry

--

marcus flint for NBA @marcflintofficial 

Are you ready for thrilling Raptors vs Bucks Eastern Conference Final game 5? Tune in on YouTube 2nite aftergame for play by play analysis + predictions. Watch for live tweets. #NBA #Basketball  

12:00 PM      2,340 likes   1,226 retweets

montyyyyy @grahamcracker

yo @casswarr five dollas on raps making history. wood has been straight sniping this year. bucks have no chance with that offense. #rapsin5

12:48 PM        5 likes 3 retweets

cassius ;) @casswarr

@grahamcracker ur fuckin insane if u think its gonna be easy for the raps. diggory's been an absolute wall this szn. he'll block potter's nasty dunks easy

1:05 PM          4 likes 1 retweets

oliver wood #0 @oliverw00dofficial

Game 5. Tonight. Air Canada Arena. #WeTheNorth

4:00 PM         1,904 likes 837 retweets

marcus flint for NBA @marcflintofficial

5 into 1st quarter, Wood from the Raps with the filthy cross on Malfoy, ballhandling like a dream. #NBA #NBAGame5 #Basketball

8:43 PM         734 likes 437 retweets

pants park (marky flints cuzzy) @panzyparkkk

@marcflintofficial im sure handling his balls is your dream ;))

8:50 PM        523 likes 277 retweets

marcus flint for NBA (@marcflintofficial) blocked pants park (marky flints cuzzy) (@panzyparkkk)

marcus flint for NBA @marcflintofficial

Potter steals from Diggory, lobs it to Weasley, throws it up to Wood for a dunk on Bole. The Raptors chemistry is off the charts this game. #NBA #NBAGame5 #Basketball

9:22 PM       256 likes 153 retweets

mclaggen the frat god @nolaggingmclaggen

yo why the fuck is flint being so nice about the raps rn. i don't want wood favouritism, i miss asshole flint. talk shit about bole's shitty defense, please. 

10:00 PM   333 likes 457 retweets

oliver wood #0 (@oliverw00dofficial) liked a tweet by mclaggen the frat god (@nolaggingmclaggen)

oliver wood #0 @oliverw00dofficial

Eastern Conference dubs, absolutely ecstatic. See you against the Warriors for NBA finals. #WeTheNorth

11:54 PM   937 likes 765 retweets

HARRY POTTER #3 @harrypottter

to the finalsssssssssssssss!!!!!!!!!!!!! #WeTheNorth

11:56 PM      832 likes 655 retweets

-

YouTube

NBA by Marcus Flint 

1,267,457 subscribers

Recent Videos

RAPTORS VERSUS BUCKS EASTERN CONFERENCE FINALS (HIGHLIGHTS, PLAY BY PLAY, ANALYSIS) 

Play

"A tremendous game for the Raptors, starting right off the bat. Bulgarian transfer Viktor Krum started it right from the tipoff, an offense immediately set into play by captain Oliver Wood. The Bucks weren't ready for them to come at them so hard so quickly, which was [redacted] stupid of them, it's the [redacted] Eastern Conference Finals. Diggory did steal from rookie Finnegan, who was lucky to have Wood track back as fast as he did for the defense. Further into the first quarter, Wood executed one of the dirtiest [redacted] crossovers I've ever seen in my two years of working in the NBA. Poor Urquhart didn't stand a chance. He's probably wallowing in the memes being made of him now, bless his heart--no, he deserves it. Urquhart, get it together, set your [redacted] feet."

"The second quarter had the Bucks catch up, with Roger Davies shooting 3 for 4 from the three point line, two assists from Bucks rookie Zach Smith, one from Draco Malfoy. The fourth one bounced off the rim into Wood's hands- his offensive rebounding stats have been crazy--

"The third quarter had Weasley on the boards, dribbling out to the corner and lobbing it to Potter on the fast break, and what a [redacted] fast break it was! If you blinked you would have missed it, which apparently Bole did, blink that is. Potter tosses it up to Wood for a nasty dunk on Bole. Humiliating. I'd never show my face to the world again, if that happened to me."

Pause.

--

Rita Skeeter for TMZ @ritaskeets

Renowned basketball analyser and former NBA player Marcus Flint's cousin, Pansy Parkinson with a shocking tweet during yesterday's game 5. #marcusflint

6:00 AM     4,003 likes   2,692 retweets

Rita Skeeter for TMZ @ritaskeets

This certainly is a strange development. Through injuries, scandals and incidents, Marcus Flint has had quite a life. Learn more in my article on tmz.com/articles/ritaskeeter #marcusflint

6:08 AM      2,455 likes   1,234 retweets

--

Excerpt of Marcus Flint Through the Years, by Rita Skeeter for TMZ

Marcus Caradoc Flint, Chicago born and raised and was eventually the first draft pick, going to nowhere else but the Chicago Red Bull's, and evidently changing the team dynamic forever, and for the better. Flint played rough, fouling out of a game dozens of times and racking up the most fines in the league, but it was worth it. He was still skillful, dazzling audiences with his awe striking shots and dunks. He won rookie of the year, finals MVP, and had 2 championship rings, one from his time on the Bulls, the other from his time with the Cleveland Cavaliers. 

Flint was known to be a little violent on the court, some of the more notable players he got in fights with being Roger Davies, Remus Lupin and Oliver Wood, who we'll be discussing later this article. 

Suddenly, injury struck, and Flint could never play basketball again, a freak accident on the court where he was pushed midair, lost his balance and tore his ACL. He was immediately offered a spot on the NBA reporting crew, where he popularised the channel with his calculated analyses and his filthy mouth. The channel ratings shot up, and the rest was history. 

Flint was never out of the spotlight for long. Two years ago, he was seen walking out of the Peninsula New York with Charlie Weasley, New York Knicks, one morning, the two of them awfully close and sharing an embrace before parting ways. This led to speculation about their relationship status and Flint's sexuality. Not long after that, he was photographed leaving The Monster, a gay bar in New York, again, with an unidentified male. 

Recently, Marcus Flint's cousin, Pansy Parkinson,  a well known tattoo artist in Los Angeles replied to Flint's tweets.

Attached: Screenshot of Pansy Parkinson's reply to Marcus Flint,"im sure handling his balls are your dream ;)))*

Is this an indicator of something between Flint and Wood? Our reporters have reached out to all three parties involved for comment.

--

mclaggen the frat god @nolaggingmclaggen

broooo that's why flint was sucking woods dick so hard during live tweet. i don't care if the man likes it up the ass i want some CORRECT analysis #marcusflint

12:00 AM   600 likes 236 retweets

cassius ;) @casswarr

wood and the raps have a presser today maybe he'll say smth about the sitch #marcusflint

12:52 PM   132 likes 121 retweets

#WeTheNorthh @torontoraptorsnumber1fan

*Attached: Clip from the Raptors Press Conference. A journalist from Sports Illustrated asks as question directed towards Oliver Wood, captain. "What are your thoughts on the online blowup regarding your status with Marcus Flint?" Oliver has a faint smile. Harry Potter is sniggering behind his hand on the other end of the table. Oliver goes to the mike. "I didn't realise there was a blowup. We gotta prepare for our next game now. See you all then." The entire team gets out and exits. The journalists clamour for their attention, with more questions.*

1:07 PM     4,082 likes   5,239 retweets

gin n tonic @ginnywheezy

y'all saw that cheeky smirk no?? @harrypottter laughing in the corner no??? my big bro @ronwheezy turning bright red NO???? 

1:20 PM        345 likes   233 retweets

marcus flint for NBA (@marcflintofficial), oliver wood #0 (@oliverw00dofficial), HARRY POTTER #3 (@harrypottter), Draco Malfoy (@dracoma1foy), angie johnson (@angelinaj), forge weasley (@georgewheezy), gred weasley (@fredwheezy) liked gin n tonic (@ginnywheezy)'s tweet

--

Instagram

@marcusflintbae

fan account, im in love with marcus flint

Recent Posts:

*Blurry picture of two male figures, seemingly joined by the hand. One of them is brunette, the other black haired. Both tall. One is dressed in a grey tracksuit and clunky basketball shoes, the other in a pressed white shirt and black pants, tie looseness. They are smiling - the photo is too blurry to specify exactly who it is.

marcusflintbae this is obviously marcus flint and oliver wood, that's the tea. im so jealous of wood ugh. 

Posted 1 hour ago

Liked by ginnywheeze, percyweasley, panspark, terhiggs, adrianpuc3y, k8iebell, hazzapotter, fredwheeze and 2943 others

-

Private Chat between Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint

oliver wood: marcus ur an idiot

marcus flint: how is this my fault

oliver wood: u were too nice to me on highlight analysis

oliver wood: and u forgot to tell parkinson that we're not public yet 

marcus flint: well u should be happy u wanted to go public like six months ago

oliver wood: nOT LIKE THIS

oliver wood: let's announce it on twitter we've let them suffer long enough 

marcus flint: don't use the photo that im wearing the purple tie in

marcus flint: it's ugly 

oliver wood: you are in no position to be making demands

oliver wood: im not going to use a photo, i love you, I'll call you later

marcus flint: love u too babe

--

marcus flint for NBA @marcflintofficial

I'm dating Oliver Wood. I'm not biased to the raptors at all, don't tell him but I actually bet on the Warriors. #NBAFinals

9:03 PM   608,767 likes 438,898 retweets

oliver wood #0 @oliverw00dofficial

Marcus Flint and I have BEEN dating. Keep up. He fr didn't bet on us. If you stop watching him I'll request a trade. Joking. Not really. #NBAFinals

9:06 PM     453,738 likes 234,725 retweets

[swiss-cheeze]

Cheater Cheater Pumpkin Eater || Tommy Lee x reader

Warnings: uhh, cheating, sexual things I guess, normal Mötley shit

Part 2: https://snitchthewitch.tumblr.com/post/185406896095/cheater-cheater-pumpkin-eater-part-2-tommy

———

Being on the road with Mötley Crüe was always a new experience, but in Tommy’s case; having a girl suck of your dick while your girlfriend is on the other line of the phone is not new. Sadly, that girl on the other side of the line was you, innocent and unknowing.

“Babe? You sound out of breath” you asked concerned.

“I-I just got done with a seat baby cakes it’s all good” Tommy replied as he bit his lip to conceal a moan as the girl went down on his lower half.

“Ah! Was it fun?” you asked with a grin, shifting in your seat to get more comfortable.

“Y-yeah it was great baby” Tommy covered the mouth piece of the phone as he got closer to his end, “look princess I have to go, I’ll make sure to call you later though okay?”

“Yeah! Can tell me all about it then” you said with a smile, “I love you Tommy. Be safe”

“Love ya too babe” Tommy said before hanging up, letting out a low moan and reaching his peak in the girls mouth (of which he doesn’t even know her name).

---

“Tommy, you do remember you have a girlfriend at home right?” Vince said to Tommy as they were setting up for a set. Tommy had told Nikki how great it was to have Heather around and that he was truly in love with her when the pair sat at the edge of the stage alongside Mick and Vince had picked up the conversation after saying goodbye to Skyler.

“Huh? Oh yeah! I was meant to call her last night…” Tommy replied, his mind wandering back to you. It had been a whole week since your last phone call, and a few months since he got his dick sucked with you on the other line. Things may have been starting to get out of hand with all this girlfriend stuff, “but…I mean, if she doesn’t know she’s fine right?” Tommy asked looking to the others. Nikki looked away while slurping his drink, Mick gave Tommy a ‘you know the fucking answer douchebag’ look while Vince just raised his eyebrow.

“Look drummer, its either you tell both of them or we’ll do it ourselves” Mick replied as circled a hand in motion to Nikki, himself and Vince.

“Nah count me out man, I don’t like it when girls are angry, and that’s some scary shit man” Nikki said quickly.

“Fine, me and Vince will tell both Heather and (Y/n)” Mick said. Tommy looked between Mick and Vince who both nodded in confirmation and sighed.

“Fine! I’ll…I’ll figure out something” the drummer responded as Vince got onto the stage and started talking with Doc.

---

Walking home from the nearby shops a news article caught your eye.

‘Mötley Crüe drummer recently found linked with infamous Heather Locklear; see more, page 18 & 19’

Being the ever intrigued you picked up the paper and swiftly glided to page 18 and 19, finding exactly what you didn’t want. Blurry and pixelated photos of Tommy and Heather at a bar, him kissing her, their arms and hands linked while they try to cover their faces with their hands so as to not get caught. Tears brimmed your eyes as you continued reading.

‘Both Lee and Locklear refuse to tell if they are together but by the photos above people speculate they are. How Lee’s current girlfriend (Y/n) (L/n) will react, one can only guess.’

“Ma’am would you like to buy that paper?” the news agency clerk asked, your head shot up to look at the clerk and you coughed to clear your throat as you put the paper back where it originally was from.

“Um, no, no thank you I’m alright” you said with a strained smile. The clerk nodded.

“Shame that” they said pointing to the paper, “he seemed to have a nice relationship with that (L/n) girl, I think they were together for a few years”

“Um, I believe it was four years actually” you said, “funny, I think today was their anniversary” you mumbled. The clerk nodded.

“Yeah…shame” they said, then walked off to the chip isle. You started your trek home.

---

A few days have passed since the newspaper incident and Tommy hadn’t bothered to call. The tour had finally finished and the boys had been let go to do what they will until the next album, it was now that Tommy finally called.

“Hey baby!” Tommy yelled happily into the phone.

“Hey Tom” (Y/n) said weakly into the phone.

“You okay babe you sound sick?” Tommy asked concerned.

“Yeah. Just tired” (Y/n) mumbled, “What’s up Tom”

“Oh yeah. Nikki wanted to visit the Sunset Strip on the way home so I’m gonna be late getting to yours” Tommy said, he snickered behind the receiver hoping his lie was good enough, in truth Tommy was going to surprise his girl by coming home the next day instead of the next week.

“Alright Tom, have fun. Don’t get into too much shit okay?” (Y/n) asked numbly, she licked her dry lips as she took a drag of the cigarette in her other hand.

“Yeah I promise babe its okay” Tommy answered. Heather came in from the back room and started dragging Tommy away, whispering dirty things into his ear and palming him through his leather pants, “s-shit. I gotta go (Y/n) I’ll call you when I’m coming to yours!” Tommy hung up the receiver and pushed Heather against the wall.

“See-“ (Y/n) got cut off by the long monotone sound of the line going dead. The girl sighed as she placed the phone back in its rightful place and went to cleaning the house. Since the newspaper moment more and more photos have ended up on the front page of Tommy and Heather as well as the rest of the boys.

---

Tommy opened the door to his and (Y/n)’s shared apartment, “BABE?” the drummer yelled through the house, “GUESS WHOS BAAACCCKKK”

“I can hear you Tommy” (Y/n) called from the kitchen. Tommy walked in and smiled.

“Something smells good” the drummer said, the boy clapped his hands together as he walked over to (Y/n) and wrapped his arms around the girl, kissing her cheek softly.

“It’s just spaghetti” (Y/n) said calmly, those hands have touched her and he touches me without the bat of an eye, the girl thought to herself, his lips have trailed her body the same moment they have mine and he still comes home to kiss me.

“Anything you cook smells good” Tommy said with a smile. (Y/n) let a tear slip through, “whoa babe what’s wrong?” the drummer asked concerned, the girl only sniffed before wiping her eyes.

“I’m tied up between saying ‘nothing’, and saying, ‘you’ right now Tommy” (Y/n) said through gritted teeth.

“What? Why me what did I do?” Tommy asked going straight to a defence.

“Everything Tommy!” (Y/n) finally turned to look at the drummer, “I just can’t seem to wrap my head around the fact that you held my hand with yours while holding hers on the other. I can’t believe you could whisper the same lullabies you sang to me to her ears while I lay in my bed sleepless. I can’t believe that while my heart was breaking, you were fixing hers” (Y/n) said through her tears, Tommy looked like a gaping fish.

“’Her’? Baby who’s ‘her’?” Tommy asked faking innocence.

“Oh don’t you play dumb with me you twat!” (Y/n) said, the girl held a wooden spoon and pointed it to Tommy.

“You found out didn’t you…?” Tommy asked defeated, he knew this wouldn’t end well, it was easier to give up and let go now than later.

“YES I BLOODY WELL FOUND OUT AS WELL AS THE REST OF THE GODDAMN WORLD” (Y/n) yelled, “tabloids with your name and photo on it! Newspapers with your print! The telly! EVERYONE FOUND OUT” (Y/n) let her tears fall, “and not one person actually came here or came up to me when I was out to give some sort of condolences! I was a ghost Tommy, A GHOST”

“B-babe please-“ Tommy started before (Y/n) cut him off.

“DON’T USE THAT NICKNAME FOR ME WHEN IT HAS ALREADY COME OUT FOR HER” (Y/n) yelled, the girl sniffed and her lip trembled, “just save all your excuses for someone that actually cares and answer my one last question: did you ever consider the fact that while you were with her, I was at home worrying that I had not loved you enough?” (Y/n) asked softly, the girl looked to Tommy with the most broken heart and shell and Tommy had never hated himself more. The drummer didn’t answer as he knew both himself and (Y/n) knew what the answer was, “that’s what I thought” (Y/n) put the spoon back in the pot of spaghetti sauce and turned off the heat as she headed for the front door.

“(Y/n) please I’m sorry!” Tommy tried to call out and follow the girl, he gripped her wrist and tried to turn her around; the only thing he got out of that was a harsh blow to his cheek and a cold, harsh hug from the ground.

“Don’t lie to me! You aren’t sorry, and if you were, you wouldn’t have done it” (Y/n) yelled, the girl gripped the door, picked up a ready-made bag from the table and walked out. Tommy hissed from the sting of the slap but laid down on his back staring at the ceiling, I just lost the one thing I loved more than anything, Tommy thought.

---

The phone rung three times before Vince finally picked up the receiver.

“Hello this is Vince” the singer answered.

“H-he came home, tried to deny it a-and I left” (Y/n) answered. (Y/n) lent against the pay phone she standing at, tears streamed down her as she tried to cover her sobs with her hand.

“Oh darl” Vince sighed softly, “come over and you can stay here” he said softly, “alright? I’ll send someone over in fact, I don’t want you walking in the dark like this. Where are you?” Vince asked, the singer really care for (Y/n), the pair had been childhood friends and anything that happened to one; the other was sure to be there in a tick. Choose-both-or-get-none type of friendship. (Y/n) told Vince her location and the singer quickly sent out a car to fetch the girl.

---

In no time at all, (Y/n) was already held in Vince’s arms as the girl sobbed into his shirt as M*A*S*H* played in the background.

“H-he didn’t e-even care!” (Y/n) sobbed.

“I know princess I know” Vince cooed softly, “we tried to stop him but he kept denying us” the singer mumbled.

“Y-you guys knew…?” (Y/n) asked, she sat up properly and looked at Vince with a confused gaze.

“We…shit” the singer mumbled, “yeah, we all knew. We told him that if he didn’t do it soon that we would, he kept telling us he would do it but we were so knocked up and stupid that we believed him. I wanted to tell you sweetheart I truly did” Vince finished, the singer himself had tears in his eyes too. (Y/n) looked to Vince and sniffled before wrapped her arms around him and burying her head into his chest again; Vince chuckled softly as he laid down on the couch and held the girl tightly, he played with her hair and rubbed her back before kissing her head, “just rest babe, you’ll be better in the morning” the girl snuggled closer making Vince smile, “you don’t have to do today again. It’s okay”

“Thank you Vinnie” (Y/n) mumbled softly, Vince smiled at the nickname before the pair dozed off together.

[antiadvil]

We’re Getting Married!

PG13, 2.8k

video title: We’re Getting Married! uploaded: December 8, 2019 by AmazingPhil Description: We talk about our relationship with each other, our audience, and appropriate creator/audience boundaries. Sorry we couldn’t find a wedding venue that would fit three million people!

read more or read on ao3

A/N: *** indicates a jump cut. this is filmed in Phil’s bedroom bc in an imagined universe with joint content I can fulfill all my nostalgic fantasies oh also warning for discussion of the vday video if you're not into that

“Hey guys! Today I’m here with a very special surprise guest-”

Dan’s voice interrupted Phil from off camera. "Are you not going to put me in the thumbnail?"

Phil laughed. "I mean, probably."

"So I'm not much of a surprise."

"I guess not. Anyway, we have a special announcement-"

"Phil. They read the title. Why do your video intros always assume no one reads your titles?"

"Hey! I haven't decided what I’m going to title it yet."

Dan came into frame and flopped onto the bed with him. "Sure you haven't. You know exactly what will get this video the maximum number of clicks, you goddamn-"

Phil threw his hand over Dan’s mouth. “Stop.”

He yanked it back almost immediately. “Did you just lick me?”

Dan smiled. “Maybe.”

“You’re disgusting. I’m going to go wash my hands with bleach,” Phil said, climbing off of his bed.

“Can you bring me a glass of water?” Dan called after him. “I’m thirsty.”

Phil called something back. It was entirely bleeped out.

***

“Count of three,” Phil said. “One, two, three-”

“We’re getting married!” Dan’s normally large hand gestures were carefully constrained by the glass of water in his right hand.

“Some of you are probably confused-” Phil said.

“Some of you are probably hyperventilating,” Dan interrupted, “And I’d like to say that while you’re valid, get a life that is not vicariously lived through our relationship. Please.”

“So let’s do a bit of background first,” Phil finished. “So I think most of you who follow us know that Dan and I met on the internet in 2009 and then we met up later the same year, which is when we filmed the first Phil is not on fire.”

“What you probably know if you watched my coming out video is that the whole time, we were super gay for each other,” Dan added. “What I didn’t really get into is that we’re still super gay for each other.”

“Wait, we are?”

Dan shrugged, setting his water on Phil’s nightstand. “I mean, I’m still super gay for you.”

Phil frowned. “I don’t know if I’d describe it that way.”

“Well, this is awkward,” Dan muttered.

“Anyway, we’ve been dating ever since then, and we thought we’d give a quick little recap of our relationship for those of you who just got here. So, I already mentioned that we met in 2009-”

“Obligatory disclaimer, we don’t endorse travelling a hundred and fifty miles to meet a guy who’s four years older than you that you met on the internet, even if you were the one who stalked him first.”

“Hey!” Phil laughed.

“But anyway,” Dan continued, “Phil and I met in a public place before going to his house and it turned out he wasn’t an axe murderer, so everything was fine.”

“What would you have done if I was?” Phil asked.

“You know, that’s a really great question. I maybe should have thought a little bit more about that.”

“So, we’re not even five minutes into the video and the biggest takeaway is that you should never have come to meet me?”

Dan nodded. “Our entire relationship was a mistake. I’m sorry, everyone, time to go home.”

“So poor life choices aside, we met in 2009, filmed Phil is not on fire, and just generally hung out a lot.”

“Hung out is one word for what we spent most of our time doing, but since this is Phil’s channel, let’s leave it at that.” Dan winked.

“Hey!”

Dan rolled his eyes. “Look me in the eye and tell me that is not what we spent most of our time together doing.”

“That is not what we spent most of our time doing.”

“Okay then, if you say so-”

“I do-” Phil insisted.

“Then we’ll leave it at that. We visited a lot, but, full disclosure, long distance sucks, which was a big factor in my decision to attend uni in Manchester. You probably already know how that went down.” Dan rolled his eyes.

“Apart from the uni part, though, it was really nice being so close by, so we moved in together in 2011.”

“And then there was what you will probably know as the Valentine’s day video,” Dan said with a grimace.

“Dan and I don’t really feel comfortable discussing the details of that whole thing because that video was very personal to us.”

Dan smiled in Phil’s direction. “I still have a copy.”

“But seriously, if you’re not me or Dan, I’d really appreciate it if you’d remove any copies you’ve posted on the internet and delete any copies you may have saved, out of respect for our privacy.”

“Believe me, I know nothing I can say will make that video disappear. My entire life is just proof that anything you put on the internet is permanent. And there’s nothing anyone can do about it now, but I want people to understand that all the speculation about my sexuality that came up when that video resurfaced really hurt me. Don’t do that. Seriously. If you think a celebrity or a YouTuber or whoever is hiding their sexuality, just let them. You don’t know what’s happening in their lives, and honestly, you’re not entitled to, either.”

Phil nodded. “Also, that was a really hard time for us as a couple as well as personally. I don’t think a lot of people realize the pressure being constantly under a microscope has on a relationship, which is one of the reasons we chose not to share our relationship and why we still don’t feel comfortable sharing everything about it.”

“Which is fine! Neither of us are ashamed of our relationship. We’re not hiding anything. We just aren’t really looking forward to reading newspaper headlines about our relationship, which really doesn’t seem like it should be news. Like, it’s our relationship, not the entire world’s relationship,” Dan explained.

“Really, it seems so weird to us that people even care about it. Like, it’s flattering and all, don’t get me wrong, but it was also a bit scary at first when we weren’t out.”

“It’s like, remember in my coming out video how I mentioned that when that guy said I gave off a bi vibe it really scared me? Having strangers on the internet tell me that my relationship with Phil was obvious was scary when even my parents didn’t know. The shipping was fine. It was mostly the speculation that was scary.”

“But we made it.” Phil put his hand on Dan’s leg and smiled.

Dan smiled back, almost forgetting the camera in the room. “God, there were some days I thought we wouldn’t. But we did. And I love you.”

Phil smiled even wider and swiped at his eyes.

Dan’s smile grew to a smirk. “Are you crying? Oh my god, you are such a dork.”

“Your mum’s a dork,” Phil muttered.

Dan reached for his phone. “I’m telling her you said that.”

“No!” Phil threw his shoulder into Dan’s chest, sending him sprawling against Phil’s bed.

Dan laughed. “Ow. Hey, Siri, call Mu-”

Phil put his hand over Dan’s mouth. “Stop.”

Dan’s phone chirped from the other side of the bed. “Okay. Calling Mum.”

Dan scrambled to reach it. “Oh shit, oh fuck, should I hang up?”

“Dan! You can’t call your mum and then hang up on her.”

“Shut up, rat, this is your fau- Oh, hey, Mum!”

“Hi!” Phil said.

“Oh, hello, Dan! And Phil. Is everything alright?”

“You need to call your mum more often, Dan, if every time she picks up she asks if something’s wrong,” Phil said.

Dan’s mum laughed. 

“Shut up, Phil. No, Mum, nothing’s wrong, just wanted to catch up.”

***

“So, I’m never jokingly asking Siri to call anyone ever again,” Dan said.

“Why? Was calling your mum that horrible?” Phil laughed.

“Shut up, Phil. That was your fault.” 

“Does your mum watch your videos?” Phil asked.

“Not really.”

“I’m sending her a link to this one.”

“I hate you,” Dan said quietly.

“You too.”

***

"Now, Phil, we've been dating for a pretty long time." 

Phil shrugged. "Only like ten years.”

"So, Phil, why did we wait so long for this?"

Phil nodded. "Well, first of all, it wasn't legal for a pretty long time."

"Right. Civil partnerships were a thing in 2004, but I'm lame and traditional, and same sex marriage was only legalized in 2014. That's half of our relationship, for some perspective."

"And, fun fact," Phil added, "Same sex marriage is still illegal in Northern Ireland."

Dan frowned. "That was not a fun fact. That was a very sad fact."

"But it's a true fact," Phil protested.

"Moving on, again!" Dan said. "I also wanted my family to be there, and, well, I'm a mess who didn't even come out to them until like six months ago."

Phil patted Dan's shoulder comfortingly. "You're not a mess."

Dan stared at the camera. "I'm a mess."

"Okay, fine. You're a little bit of a mess."

Dan turned to Phil in mock outrage. “You think I’m a mess?”

“No! I-”

Dan turned back to the camera. “You heard it here, folks. Phil is judging me because I took my time coming out. Phil hates closeted people.”

Phil glared at him. “I’m never agreeing with you ever again.”

“This relationship is off to a great start!”

***

“So back to the original question! Why now, Dan?”

“Well, Phil, now that I’m out to my family we can have a proper wedding, and now that we’re out to our viewers we don’t have to worry about one of our own personal stalkers finding our marriage records.” 

“Also, marriage does come with a lot of cool perks,” Phil added.

“Gotta get those sweet, sweet tax benefits.”

“And that sweet, sweet, societal recognition of our relationship.”

“Also, it makes buying a house and general joint property ownership way simpler, which will make it a lot easier to take all of Phil’s subscribers in the inevitable divorce.”

Phil laughed. “What?”

Dan blinked. “Sorry, I didn’t say anything. Did you hear something?”

“Well, I thought I heard you say you were going to divorce me and take my subscribers.”

Dan shook his head, his expression deeply offended. “Why would I say that? Who would do such a thing?”

Phil stared solemnly at the camera. “Gaslighting is a form of abuse.”

“Thank you for the PSA, Phil.”

“Just documenting the abuse I’m currently suffering under so that I can take all your subscribers in the divorce,” Phil said.

Dan frowned. “Okay, I wasn’t going to say anything, but you sounded really serious just then so I now feel the need to clarify that I am not abusing Phil and also, domestic violence is not funny.”

Phil laughed. “No actual abuse.”

Dan sighed. “We’re terrible people, aren’t we?”

“I mean, we’re not terrible people.”

Dan laughed. “We’re just bad people, with terrible senses of humor. That’s so much better.”

“We can edit it out if-” Phil started.

“I mean, it’s your channel-” Dan said.

They stared at each other for a moment before shrugging in unison. “Whatever,” they said, still in unison.

***

“So, Phil, what’s changing for our viewers?” Dan asked.

“Literally nothing. We’ll be taking a short break from uploading-”

“Which I do all the time! So I doubt you’ll even notice.”

“But we’re not going to change the types of videos we upload. This isn’t a relationship channel.”

Dan winked. “As much as you might want it to be.” 

“Seriously, though. We’re not even changing our names. Nothing’s changing,” Phil assured the camera.

“But in case it wasn’t clear, here are some FAQs.”

Phil pulled out a stack of notecards and put on his best announcer voice. “Are we invited?”

Dan smiled. “No.”

Phil flipped to the next card. “Kiss!”

“That’s not a question, but somehow, the answer is still no.”

Phil laughed. “I think a photo of us kissing would actually break the internet.”

Dan shrugged. “Really, we’re just being kind to your internet providers.”

“Lester-Howell or Howell-Lester?”

“We already answered that, Phil. You really need to screen these questions better, especially since you wrote them.”

“Answer it anyway,” Phil pleaded.

Dan sighed heavily. “Neither. I would never saddle my child with two last names.”

“Child?” Phil turned to the camera with an exaggerated gasp.

Dan smiled. “That’s all you’re getting. Let the fanfiction writing begin.”

Phil paused. “Wait, so whose last name-”

“Honestly, I was just joking because neither of us are changing our names, but if you want to have a Dan versus Phil to see who gets to name our child-”

“I’m good.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Phil turned to the next card. “Wedding photos?”

“Is that a question or a demand? Please don’t hack my hard drive.”

“Top or bottom?”

“There is no way anyone actually thinks we’ll answer that.”

“Probably not.” Phil flipped again. “And last, but definitely not least, why are we telling our viewers?”

“Well, I think it’s safe to say that we’re telling a lot more people than our viewers. But I never had any healthy models for queer relationships when I was a kid, and if I can provide that, I don’t see why not.” Dan’s voice was surprisingly serious.

“Think of us like your parents,” Phil added. “We’re here to show you how healthy relationships work, but we’re not here to show you everything. Partly because we need some privacy and partly because that would be gross.”

Dan was wincing as soon as he heard the word “parents.” “Phil, Phil, please stop. Do not encourage our audience to think of us as their parents. Did you learn nothing from our tumblr tag? Please never say those words again.”

“Fine, I’ll edit them out.”

Dan shook his head. “You said it, Phil. You can’t escape it.”

“Okay, well, at least give another response so I can decide if I want to keep it in,” Phil persuaded, in the soft, natural, voice he normally saved for off camera.

Dan gave an exaggerated sigh. “Honestly, hiding a relationship is just so much work. Especially a marriage. And you guys are total stalkers. Like seriously. Get a life. Please.”

“That’s better! And much more fitting with who our audience is.”

“Phil, I’m the one who gets to insult our fans. You’re the one who says we love them and appreciate them.”

“We do!” Phil insisted.

“Do we?” Dan asked skeptically.

“Yes.” Phil laughed, staring at Dan in disbelief.

“Kidding,” Dan muttered, flashing a smile at the camera. “Please buy my merch.”

Phil sighed. “Danielhowellshop.com?”

Dan smiled. “Also, while you’re at it, check out my good friend Phil’s merch at amazingphilshop.com!”

Phil stared straight at the camera. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

“You know what, we’re such close friends that we also have a joint merch shop, danandphilshop.com. You could begin there, Phil.”

“Is it too early for a divorce?” Phil asked.

“Yes. You’re stuck with me.”

“Am I really?”

“Just think about the tax benefits. Take a deep breath, close your eyes, and remember how much money you’re going to save by marrying me.”

Phil shook his head. “It’s not worth it.”

Dan pouted.

***

“For more videos like this-”

“Phil. We’re never making another video like this again.”

“For more videos not like this, click on my face to subscribe to my channel, click on Dan’s face to subscribe to his channel-”

“I have plans to actually upload a video this year-”

“And for our joint channel, click here.” Phil raised their joined hands.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to edit this video, upload it, and disconnect my internet for at least a month.”

Dan turned to Phil. “That’s not a bad idea, actually. I’m not sure I want to open tumblr for the next six years.”

Phil cringed. “Me neither. Guys, please try not to go too crazy. I lost friends over the protip incident of 2016.”

Dan shuddered. “So many people refuse to talk to us now. I’m not even joking.”

“We appreciate the support!” Phil insisted.

“Just like, maybe on our videos instead of completely random ones,” Dan suggested.

Phil nodded. “Anyway, if you liked this video, please give it a thumbs up, or leave a comment. Like I said, Dan and I will be taking a short break from YouTube and social media for the wedding and honeymoon, but we’ll be back soon with plenty of content.”

“I don’t want to see any of your conspiracy theories about how we’re leaving YouTube out there, I promise it’ll only be like a month.”

“And that’s the normal amount of time between two Dan videos,” Phil interjected, “So-”

“Hey! I said I would upload this year.”

Phil smiled. “Never said you wouldn’t.”

***

“Count of three again?” Dan asked.

Phil nodded. “Three, two, one-”

“Goodbye!”