#I have unreasonable anxiety over dumb things

[teapotsaregreathats]

Quick painting I made a lil while ago.

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[starqueensthings]

If It’s Not You, It’s Not Anyone.

Ficlets inspired by song lyrics: part two.

Pairing: ARC Echo x GN!Reader

POV/WC: 2nd, but from Echo's perspective, 2082 words

Rating/Warnings: Teen. Overall fluffy but with significant mentions of anxiety. Seggsy time is implied a few times also.

A/N: while this isn’t my favourite song in the world, I’ve never been able to listen to it without this kind of imagery floating through my mind. I love the lyrics, especially when I fit them into an ARC Echo sized box. Not proof or beta read (and I’m notorious for making up my own words when I can’t think of the one I want… fair warning.) ENJOY. 

“Forever’s not enough time to love you the way that I want, because every morning I find you, I fear the day that I don’t. You say that I won’t lose you but you can’t predict the future ‘cause certain things are out of our control. If you ever move on without me, I need to make sure you know: you are the only one I’ll ever love… if it’s not you it’s not anyone.”

[Anyone - Justin Bieber]

He wasn’t a betting man anymore, the days he’d found himself brazen enough to wager his belongings were long since outgrown, and now merely a memory of the past brought up too frequently atop relentless jeers from his brother, Fives. The purgatorial hours after curfew but preceding sleep, saw Domino Squad sprawled across a table, discarded face cards tossed aside as the boys bickered with each other over who lay claim to the prize pot anchoring their fun. Echo was only too miserable to watch his prized possessions float from his clutches, lost to the treachery of one bad poker hand after another, the certainty of his impending win often betrayed by Hevy’s nearly inscrutable bluffing skills. “Just lucky, I guess,” the broad shouldered soldier would coo across the table with a wink, smirking as his fingers draped themselves eagerly around the mountain of contraband that he’d won.

Time and experience had seen a shift in priorities. Life… war… had quickly reinforced the notion that the distribution of Lady Luck’s attention was entirely unpredictable, and trying to elucidate her choices could send a man spiraling into an anguished insanity. It was far simpler to just swallow the bitter pill of unreasoning: sometimes you simply had her favour, and sometimes you did not (and Hevy, somehow, seemed to always have it).

Departing the protective bubble of Kamino’s isolation had proved less of a challenge than Echo anticipated thanks to the unexpected comfortability of their first posting. Surveilling the Rishi system from the stillness of a desolate moon was barely a challenge for the squad’s capable hands, especially after years of conditioning had endowed their expectations with images of carnage and violence, but despite the perceived insignificance of their objective, their overseeing officers were no less regimented or dogmatic than those whom had raised them. Tactics and strategy continued to be encouraged at every possible opportunity; obedience enforced, and discipline expected. “Segregation from the front lines is no excuse for complacency,” their sergeant would iterate repeatedly. “Any brother would be lucky to have landed this posting. Take it seriously.”

Between inappropriately fluffy songs, Clone Nation Radio recounted the events of battles fought across the galaxy, perfectly mirroring the sergeants continued pleas. Seemingly the only squad member willing to heed the advice, the quiet hours on the distant moon saw Echo pouring over schematics, the memorization of regulation manuals presenting him with the perfect shield against the potential chill of Lady Luck’s cold shoulder. His brothers’ snide remarks about indulging in this new ‘strange’ habit, simply rolled off his armoured shoulders. “We’ll see who gets the last laugh when these ‘dumb manuals’ help me out-survive all of you,” he would always chirr back with a roll of his eyes.

Yet his incessant need to retain information had unknowingly only sharpened a double-edged sword. In his earnest to ensure a complete competency, his shield of preparedness had rendered him protected on one hand, but preoccupied on the other, with the unknown shift in his awareness exposing a notion shared by many troopers: that the monster of mortality is all-too happy to lay-in-wait long enough for him to be forgotten about, pushed to the back burner a overly confident soldier's mind.  

The Rishi posting was quiet… until it wasn’t. Kamino seemed a fortress impenetrable to external threat… until it wasn’t. Both events had struck Echo with a hard blow of realization that tactics can only ensure a portion of one's safety, schematics will not prevent an invasion, one must learn to expect only that which is unexpected, and there are variables far outside any one man’s control. Lady Luck will ultimately always get to play her game…

And sadly, he’d seen too many brothers had crumple at his side, their torches snuffed in a fraction of a blink, many of them with packs and pouches full of treats that they’d won in a game the previous night. Why is it that Luck had caressed them then, only to fatally betray them hours later? 

No, his betting days were behind him… and then there was you.   

Now? He’d have bet everything he ever owned that your hair was the softest the universe had ever seen. Even after hours of fervent frolicking between the sheets, your bodies entwining with the desperate desire to reacquaint after so many rotations apart, and each strand having been tugged, bunched, knotted and tossed in the name of a passionate routine so mesmerizing that time itself seemed to pause, it still felt like silk draped between his fingers. 

He’d have wagered every credit in the galaxy that history had never seen a hand fit more perfectly into another like yours fit into his. It was as if the Maker had initially sculpted your bodies as one, only to have it fall from Mortis and fracture, the pieces seamlessly fitting together to reestablish his physical rendering of love. 

And he’d have bet that, in all the systems he’d traversed, none of them orbited a sun even remotely as radiant as the twinkle in your eye. A luminescence shining from deep inside of you unrivaled by any charted celestial body; a lighthouse that he was all-too willing to let endlessly guide him into your embrace… back home. 

Definity now seemed attainable. He had never been surer of anything or anyone in his entire life, and such a certainty had been achieved without the memorization of manuals, and without the aid of instructions, tactics, or strategy. Embedded with the impenetrable protection of your belief in him, his shield now seemed the perfect match for redirecting every potential blow of Lady Luck’s unpredictable tantrums; his irrefutable love for you unwavering despite the external chaos. 

But always a double edged sword, the 'distraction' of your love ensured that the undoubtability of your union walked hand-in-hand with unpredictability… with fear and anxiety. The monster of mortality, while frequently concealed behind dense clouds of bliss and enamoring twinkles of light, was never again truly absent from Echo’s awareness, and the harrowing chirp of a deployment transmission ringing from his wristcom acted as a stark reminder that the monster was always waiting patiently for an opportunity to rob the universe of such beauty.     

“What’s on your mind, love?” you would ask in those moments, when the surging heat of your frenzied entanglement subsided and the stillness of the night exposed his resurging anxiety. But your query needn’t ever be spoken; the cause of the deepening crease between his brows and the frown tugging at his lips was a mystery to no one, and part of him wondered if you only uttered the question aloud knowing that the sound of your voice would soothe him in a way that nothing else could.

“You are, Cyare,” he would always answer, too aware that the unnatural smile hitched to his lips would provoke nothing but a skeptical cock of your eyebrow, yet too willing to deny his fear its chance in the light.   

This routine transpired only a handful of times before you’d successfully pulled the truth from him, his desire to remain a pillar of strength simply no match for the knowing twinkle in your eye, its majesty quickly summoning the anxiety from the depths of his gut and out past his lips.

The truth finally spoken: that he was scared to lose each other, to lose you, intensely fearful that every sorrowful departure preceding a deployment would be the last. His tactical mind was painfully aware that the probabilities of him safely returning home varied largely from one mission to the next, the chances laced with a risk that was incalculable… unpreparable despite his every effort.  

But even fatality seemed a welcome alternative to his greatest fear of all: that he would return home from a long deployment to find the twinkle banished from your eyes, that he would find a person no longer blind to the fact that a life built on the shoulders of a soldier was one laden with an unavoidable and potent neglect, and that you’d become a person no longer willing to suffer the solitude that accompanied his absence.  

“I’m not going anywhere, Echo,” you would always reassure him. “It’s you and me, my love. Until the end of the universe.”

The mantra never lost its purity despite how often you chorused it to him with your fingers intertwined tightly between his, or your forehead pressed to his in a motion of complete connection, but tonight felt… different. Despite your recited promise and the intimate swaddle of your body around his, Echo could not shake the feeling of dread simmering in his gut. 

“What is it?” you probed in barely more than a whisper, your hands stalling their thoughtless swirls atop his skin, fingers instead nestling themselves between the swells of his heaving chest. 

“Nothing, Mesh’la.” He couldn’t quite quantify the intensity of his anxieties tonight, for even unspoken they seemed baseless and irrational. How could he express that the gnawing of his upcoming deployment felt more formidable this time, when he knew his words would serve no purpose other than plaguing you with worry? He had no desire to let his malignant fears rob you of the listful peace that he so badly longed for in these moments. 

You hummed quietly, toes shifting to gently glide along the top of his foot, the sensation grounding him enough to tighten his grasp around your shoulders. “I’m not going to call you a liar,” you snorted as you nuzzled into his side, “but it kinda smells like your pants might be on fire.” 

He should have expected such a response; you’d always been quick to wit, quick to humour, quick to ensure that, even in the enshadowed bedroom where the only light came from the patchwork quilt of a million other windows scattered from here to the horizon, he felt utterly seen. 

A small sigh stalled his explanation, his plagued mind still attempting to grapple for some semblance of justification. “I don’t know,” he posed, pausing to press his lips to your forehead, the familiar fragrance of your hair wafting into his nose easing only a fraction of his worry. “Something feels… weird. I can’t shake the feeling that something is going to go amiss during this next one.” 

“Sounds like a bad case of the ‘send-off scaries’,” you chuckled, shifting your head on his shoulder to watch your fingers resume their mindless doodles across his skin.

“No, Mesh’la,” he protested, the ghost of misunderstood frustration dancing across his tense features as he retracted his arm from around you and pushed himself into a seated position. “It’s more than that, but… I can’t explain it.” 

You shifted your posture to mirror his, scooping his hands into yours and squeezing his palms tightly to prevent him from shielding his face. “Perhaps it’s because this one is a little riskier than some of the others?” you proposed, trying to catch the eyes that he’d deliberately averted from you. “You were saying the Citadel is pretty heavily fortified, right? Maybe it’s the fact that the archive maps are dated and incomplete that has you a little more anxious than usual.” 

“Yeah… maybe,” he sighed solemnly, only barely resisting the urge to shake his head and argue.  

“You and Fives are an unshakable team,” you persisted. “Especially with Rex and the General beside you. You all have an innate call to protect each other. Just have faith… trust your instincts. They’ve never led you astray, my love. In fact–” a gentle guiding finger under his chin pulled his anguished gaze back to you, “–they led you right to me.” 

There it was, dancing in your eyes as if fueled by starlight, the twinkle that reminded him time-and-time-again that nothing could rob him of his home… of his home in you.

“You’re right, Cyare,” he conceded, leaning in to graze his smiling lips against yours. “I love you. It’s you and me to the end of the universe.” 

No, he wasn’t anymore… but if he was a betting man, that lingering moment of quiet assurances with breath dancing atop each other's cheeks and lips moving to convey an unspoken message, he’d have wagered that the very stars aligned the night he met you. He’d have bet there wasn’t a force anywhere in this galaxy stronger than his connection to you… and you can bet that if only an ounce of his courage remains intact when he returns home from that wretched fortress, the first place you’ll find him is in your doorway, perched on one knee with a ring in his hand and a plea in his eyes. You can bet that, if Lady Luck’s cold shoulder ever robbed you of each other, his love for you, and only you, would be a promise more steadfast and unwavering than time itself.

taglist: @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations

[weirdestbooks]

Secret States Chapter 28

Worry (Wattpad | Ao3)

Table of Contents | Prev | Next

District of Columbia was not acting like Nebraska expected her to. She was usually the one who worried and worried and worried over everything until she had thought of all the ‘what ifs.’

But she wasn’t doing that. She was strangely calm about everything. Nebraska thought at first that maybe she was dissociating again, but she wasn’t. It was strange, and it wasn’t helping his anxiety. 

Nebraska felt like every country was trying to target them now. It was an unreasonable fear, sure, but Nebraska has had issues with anxiety and paranoia for a long time. It was an issue that made it very hard for him to deal with things like this without panicking. Normally, Nebraska took comfort in District of Columbia going over every scenario so Nebraska could be reassured that he could be prepared for any situation, but she wasn’t doing that, and he hated it, and it wasn’t normal.

Was District of Columbia okay? Stealing his nerves, Nebraska approached my sister, hoping that he wouldn’t irritate her by attempting to figure out what was wrong.

“Hello, Nebraska.” District of Columbia said, a strand of her hair falling into her face as her fingers tapped rapidly over her keyboard.

“Hey, Dee. Are you okay?” Nebraska asked. She paused in her typing and gave him a confused look.

“Yes? Why are you asking?” District of Columbia asked, confusion plain in her tone.

“Because you are acting weird and not freaking out over the what-ifs of everything like you normally do. It’s…unnerving.” Nebraska said, internally wincing at his last sentence. He definitely could have worded that better.

“I don’t always do that.” District of Columbia insisted.

“Yes, you do. Especially if something bad is about to happen, like now.” Nebraska pointed out. District of Columbia frowned.

“Nothing bad is going to happen.” District of Columbia said. Nebraska scoffed at that.

“Dee, come on, I know you. You have to realize that something bad is going to happen. We’re not popular, and it's only a matter of time before someone tries something. What if they find out what happened to you and try to use it against you? You might not be the government, but you are the capital district, and that’s a good enough reason to make someone target you.” Nebraska said. District of Columbia flinched, and Nebraska saw her close her eyes.

“Please don’t mention that.” District of Columbia said quietly. Nebraska felt guilt grow in his stomach. He knew bringing that up was a bit of a low blow, but he needed to know what his big sister felt about all this. She didn’t seem bothered, and that scared him. She was always nervous or bothered about something.

“Sorry Dee…I’m just worried.” Nebraska said. District of Columbia sighed.

“I can’t think of any of us who aren’t. But…things will work out. Hurting one of us would provoke anger and possibly a war. Few are dumb enough to attempt that. And it's not like we were the best-kept secret. I…if I overthink things, I’m just going to make my paranoia worse. So I'm trying not to do that. You should try it, too.” District of Columbia said. Nebraska began tapping his fingers against his leg, a nervous habit he had developed.

“This is me trying, Dee. I just…there’s a lot we want to keep private. Certain events, yes, but also certain people who are still alive when they shouldn’t be. It’s only a matter of time before something goes wrong with that. I know you’ve never trusted that he’s changed. Dad may think so, but he also saved Dad’s life.” Nebraska said, keeping his voice quiet, afraid of the reaction of certain states if they heard this.

“And you don’t think that’s trustworthy?” District of Columbia asked, looking Nebaksa over with inquisitive eyes.

“I don’t think he did it with good intentions. Dad’s let him know more than I think she should. If someone finds out about him, or he goes to someone, he has a lot of secrets he can tell.” 

“I never pegged you as one to think that way.” District of Columbia said. Nebraska scowled; not sure if that was an insult or a compliment.

“His people hurt my twin. I’ve never liked him, and I’ve kept an eye on him because of it. I don’t have proof something is wrong…but I feel like there is. At the very least, I want someone—not the South, they’re biased, but someone to keep an eye on him.” Nebraska said, crossing his arms.

“He’s already left Braska. He told Bama he wanted to ‘lie low.’ I don’t know where he is now.” District of Columbia said. Nebraska groaned and pressed his hands into his face before exhaling a slow breath. His anxiety grew, and he didn’t know if he wanted to cry or scream.

“Can I hug you, Dee?” Nebraska asked. District of Columbia nodded slowly. Nebraska slowly pulled her into a hug, moving slowly so as not to trigger any of her PTSD. Maryland did that once. It was terrifying to see.

“Sorry about being pushy.”

“You aren’t pushy. Just worried. I think everyone is, no matter how much we try to hide it. However, as much wrong could happen from this, there are positives. Old grudges and incidents can be put to rest. Ana is already planning to work through the issues she and her aunt have. Vermont gets to figure out where he stands with Canada, and New England will probably commit murder.” 

“While dressed like a bunch of boys going to church on Sunday,” Nebraska commented, causing District of Columbia to laugh as she pulled away.

“The day they aren’t dressed like that is a day of extreme concern for me.” District of Columbia said.

“What are you typing, anyways?” Nebraska asked, looking at her computer to see a half-written email.

“Informing the states who are back in their states what’s going on. And Kalahui, although she never seems to read my emails. Ever.” District of Columbia said. Nebraska laughed.

“That's Kalahui for you. Not a fan of any of us. I’m glad she’s started to warm up to us, though. She’s a very ambitious and nice girl when she isn’t yelling about how you ruined her life before she was born.” Nebraska commented. District of Columbia slapped him lightly on the arm.

“Be nice, ya Cornhusker. Kalahui is well within her right to not like us.” Nebraska raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Alright, alright, I know. You are very good at thinking of others. You know that?”

“I know. I’ve never been allowed to have time for myself. Why don't you see if you can get in contact with Confederacy if you are so worried? I have things I need to do after this letter.” District of Columbia said. Frowning slightly at the dismissible, Nebraska turned to leave, shooting one last worried glance at his sister.

Nebraska really did hope she was alright.

[chronically-evie]

rant warning

my new therapist is so insistent on me doing exposure therapy that i can't talk about anything but my anxiety with him and i am diagnosed borderline so if i don't talk about this shit it's gonna turn into a giant split and ive been working so hard on not splitting on my boyfriend but i need a vent for it like i can't fucking bottle up all the dumb shit he's doing

it's not his fault that he has memory issues i KNOW it's not his fault but he doesn't ever fucking tell me what's going on

APPARENTLY his shitty ass best friend (treats him like garbage and is the most racist transphobic dick ive ever had the displeasure of meeting) has a birthday this weekend and he neglected to tell me until today. literally the day before. and i haven't seen him in two weeks either and we had plans. so i asked him why he didn't tell me and he said he didn't know it was happening. he has been friends with him since fucking KINDERGARTEN and he doesn't know his birthday? i genuinely think that's fucking bullshit.

his memory issues are not bad enough to that level, if anything they're more short term, and we've been dating a little less than a year and he knows my birthday.

and he's calling me unreasonable because im fucking pissed obviously i would be upset over this we've talked it over before and one of my main issues with him is communication like i NEED to know what is going on so i don't freak out and he never. fucking. tells. me.

like genuinely when he is out with friends he does not text me once and he says he'll be done within like 3 hours which is good and fine and then he's gone for 6. and doesn't text me once. not even like a single thought crosses his mind to maybe text me the simplest sentence?? "hey i'm gonna be gone an extra 3 hours i love you" would be fine. but he doesnt. and then i freak out bc i have panic hallucinations and i genuinely think he is dead and i spam call him and he texts me when he gets home acting as if im unreasonable and crazy and dramatic

and im not ALLOWED to be mad at him anymore because he dumped me a month ago and like said he didn't love me and shit bc i split on him and the only reason i got him to get back with me was saying i'll change bc he was mad about me getting upset over things that he does wrong so now every time i get upset over something i have to shut the fuck up because i don't want him to leave me

sorry for the rant im fucking pissed

[cricketwrangler]

Can't tell if I'm getting anxiety because I've been running out of medications or because one dumb thing triggered the "oh fuck" switch in my brain over a lot of things that it maybe shoukd have already been? But also it doesn't feel good and being overwhelmed doesn't help me do shit. But also maybe the shove is the only way to actually get some shit done and quit just riding everything out until shit hits the fan.

It's just that I HAVE been finally getting stuff done there's just always so much. And half the time doing something creates 2 more somethings and doesn't actually solve what it was supposed to. So before I was like "it's OK, just gotta do this to solve this problem" and now that I've made myself actually do it, it all keeps smacking me back in the face with "haha yeah come on now you know shit never actually works out like that".

And the funny thing is, if I expected that beforehand, that would probably be considered unreasonable anxiety.

[siriannatan]

How to Calm a fWhip - one-shot

A little before bed, evening one-shot (might have to do with a thing I'm writing on the sly when out of other ideas because S1 lives rent-free in my brain)

I seem to have set myself a dynamic with these three Scott seeing fWhip - a good nap pillow Jimmy seeing fWhip - must mess with the pretty guy

I TOTALLY FORGOT THE AO3 Link

There was a small problem in Grimlands. It was a completely normal day for average residents. Sunny with a light wind making you need a lighter jacket. Very nice weather for Grimlands if not counting dark smoke from all the smithies and workshops but that was perfectly normal for the place. Nothing out of ordinary, so you might ask where the problem is. 

At the count's manor. fWhip, the count of Grimlands, the half-dragon ruling the land and the head of the Wither Alliance, woke up restless. 

He himself had no idea why but before the breakfast was over, he snapped at his helpers more than five times and nearly fired all his house staff. Nothing was to his liking. He slept badly. His bed was suddenly both too soft and too hard. Food was all too spicy, sweet, salty etc. Everyone was too noisy.

Somehow the manor made it through the breakfast time but then another problem formed. fWhip didn't have anything to do. He had no meeting. No local ruler business. Nothing to do to do with other empires. Or his alliance. He wasn't in the mood to tinker - probably for the first time in his whole life. No desire to visit anyone or just go anywhere, even for a dumb walk. So he practically bounced off the walls until Gem showed up. 

It's important to say here that fWhip loved his sister. He grew his hair out to try and be a bit more like her. She was a great leader and often helped him. Much better than Sausage just dragging problems in. Like when he introduced a certain handsome - do not tell anyone he called him that - ruler of the cod empire to him and the fact that the refugees of the Salmon Empire lived in Grimlands. And numerous other problems. He loved both his siblings a lot but they could be a bit much at times. 

Today he really couldn't listen to Gem to nagging him about how to be a better ruler. The constant conflict with Jimmy. How little he did last time Sausage provoked the merling. It was so much he excused himself with having to talk to Scott, ruler of Rivendell's elves. He would openly admit he found Scott pretty and that it hurt him an unreasonable amount that Scott was fond of Jimmy. But he still flew to Rivendell. Hoping that maybe by the time he got there, he would calm down a bit.

He didn't but seeing Scott and all the gold jewellery he wore distracted fWhip's dragon brain a bit. 

"Can I help you? I hope I didn't forget we had anything scheduled," Scott said, letting fWhip into his castle. fWhip was always shocked at how clean it was with the few servants Scott kept around. Had to be magic.

"No, we didn't, I... I just couldn't sit at home and listen to Gem nag me... I can go somewhere else if I'm in the way..." fWhip had no reason to hide his actual reasons from Scott. It might have not been the first time he went to the elf since the whole Xornoth thing and the Salmon King incident did not help in the slightest.

"Is it back?" Scott asked, referring to the anxiety attacks fWhip went through after and for whatever reason came to him with instead of his siblings.

"No," fWhip shook his head,  looking over all the golden decor. Elves really loved their gold... "Just feeling a bit restless the whole day and thought a change of scenery might be good. I can go and bother Jimmy if you're busy," he added, just then noticing Scott was dressed a bit more casually. He still looked a lot more company-worthy than fWhip did at his best.

"It's fine, my advisors forced a day off on me," Scott smiled and fWhip pelt a little bit better.

They ended up in Scott's personal library. With fWhip's head rested on Scott's lap as he slowly calmed down and relaxed. With cold fingers messing with his meticulous braided hair. Not that fWhip cared much. He almost instantly fell asleep, helped by a heavy woollen blanket Scott tossed over him. Explaining that with fWhip around he himself didn't need one. fWhip had no energy to argue so he just let himself relax... Scott's lap made for a great pillow.

/Bonus Jimmy Bit/

Usually, Jimmy had no trouble finding Scott whenever he decided to visit Rivendell. The elven king would more often than not come out and greet him before the merling could even start to wonder where to start looking for him. Not today. Today he had to go through all the more official sites all over the city before one of Scott's councilmen told him the king was having a day off for overworking himself to the point of fainting and was not supposed to leave his castle.

Jimmy rarely had a chance to see more of the castle than the direct path to Scott's bed so that was the first place he checked. For now, he decided to avoid the servants. At this point, he wanted to surprise Scott. 

There was no Scott in the bedroom but the bed was not made. And there were no books anywhere. "Decided to clean up for one?" Jimmy hummed glancing out to the gardens through the big, stained glass windows. No winged elven kings there. With another hum, Jimmy went to look for a library. With how many books Scott always had around his bed there had to be one in the castle.

There was a library housing Scott's over two hundred years' worth of hoarding books. And most of them were in elven. Or several now-dead languages Scott learned before they went out of use. Jimmy was sometimes shocked at how much Scott knew despite being mostly raised to be married off for an alliance. He should not have been shocked Scott overtook the palace library.

Which must be quite the sight, if Jimmy could find the place among the damned labyrinths elven interiors seemed to always be... But his people liked labyrinths as well so it wasn't that much of a problem and he eventually found it. And was met with quite the sight. 

Scott, leisurely lounging on a couch with a fWhip's head in his lap. One hand messing with a mostly undone braid Jimmy loved to pull - both literally and metaphorically. Other lazily switching a page in a book floating at just the right level for Scott to read it, before reaching for a cup of tea. A fancy cup of Glimmer Grove make. A gift from Katherine's great grand mother as Jimmy heard from Scott. Technically for Xornoth but Scott was the king and Xornoth was with Joey in a jungle...

"Shush, he just fell asleep," Scott said spotting Jimmy as he walked closer. It was hard to hide if one was an eight-foot tall merling demi-god like he was.

"I might need a nap myself after how much running around I did while looking for you," Jimmy hummed, quietly to not wake the sleeping dragon. And taking in the thick blanket that was clearly Scott's, it was all of his favourite shades of blue and cyan with white frill all around it. And fWhip was purring slightly which was news to Jimmy, it was damn cute though. "I heard you overworked yourself again," he turned to glare at Scott while taking an entire loveseat to himself. 

"I did, I regretted it, and it'll be a while before I do it again," Scott seemed to shrug as he pulled another blanket out of somewhere and tossed it at Jimmy. "In case you get cold, I'm not moving. He needs a nap," he explained, gently patting fWhip's head.

"Wake me up when he wakes up, we just might get him to cuddle you properly," Jimmy grinned.

Scott merely shrugged. He loved the idea of cuddling with fWhip. He had a chance to do it a few times but was not too fond of the circumstances so something more relaxed sounded great. and he certainly didn't mind having Jimmy there too. Or being stared at as he read through one of his favourite books. Top hundred for sure.

[sweettodo]

we're your best friends.

jean kirstein x freader x eren jaeger.

includes : smut, threesome, swearing, innocent / naive y/n, taking virginity.

word count : 3,4k

a / n , thank you for 400 ( 450 as of 3 / 8 / 21 ) , i love you all <3 you're all so special to me and i’m grateful for you. i hope we can grow together as a big ole’ happy family !

"Do you guys ever stop?!" you bellow, your bedroom filled with the shouting amongst the two men in front of you, their rough voices which completely washed away any interjections you gave.

Sighing, you grab one of your notebooks from your desk, winding up your shoulder, and throwing it at Eren. The book slaps him in the face and he shouts, his hand rubbing his face.

"The fuck y/n!" He screeches, Jean, shutting up right after Eren, hair messy from tugging at it out of frustration. You wondered why a simple conversation about who would be the better gentleman; the better man. We had commenced in the formal meeting area- your room- hours ago, to study; hence the notebook used to bonk Eren's pitiful face, "you don't get it." He huffs.

"You two better stop acting childish before I kick you out." Walking between them and plopping down on your bed, pleased to see that the battle had now dwindled from your -very- empty threat. You couldn't kick them out even if you wanted to.

Everyone at school was very well acquainted with the fact that Jean and Eren both had a persistent problem of rivalry, they fought about everything; from who had the better penmanship, better wardrobes, better walk, to who was prettier.... yes, prettier.

Eren stubbornly sits on one corner of the bed, traversing his legs with his back pressed against the wall, Kerstein made himself relaxed in your desk chair, "as I was saying, before I was so impolitely interrupted-" you snort, glancing at the two men, "you both are gentleman, but it's more than just how you talk to a girl."

"Yeah don't be ridiculous, I'm good at more than you think y/n." Jean boasts, smirking and tauntingly glaring at Eren who returns the glare, hair seeping down his shoulders as he rolls his eyes at the cocky Kerstein.

"I'm a sex god, I can sex anyone up, anytime- anywhere." Jean lunging to his feet and stupidly rocking his hips side to side like the fuck-boy he knows he is, virtually wearing it like a badge. Eren and you snickered at him.

Jean grunts, finger in the air tauntingly, "alright! It's not that funny anymore! Quit laughing!" tears brimming your eyes, chest aching from laughing, the blonde now taking into account that you two were more laughing at him, rather than with him.

Defensively, he shouts, "Keep laughing, virgin." Jean grins, squatting back down in the chair dramatically.

"I can name plenty of girls who want to get with me." Eren retorts. Laying your back against the headboard, listening as Eren spews stories about the 'countless sexcapades' he has with girls every week and the 'countless' girls who plead to fuck him on the daily.

"So childish, especially for a couple of university students."

You're dismissed again, "Y/n, who do you think would be better in bed, be honest!" you evaluate the question as much as you could, not to mention how hard it was to even imagine.

Simply putting it, you were a prude.

They wait hastily for your reply, curious to what you had to say, the silence provoking them to shuffle in their seats.

"I think... hm, Jean." Eren groans out in defeat, Jean cackling and throwing his head back, Eren pouts and crosses his arms, huffing out.

"You know what, how the fuck would you know anyway, huh?" rolling your eyes, Jean who is taking his sweatshirt off and hanging it off your chair, heeding to Eren, who is still weeping, "Jean, that doesn't count, she's never gotten with either of us, to begin with, her judgment doesn't count." Declaring matter-of-factly, Jean rubs his chin with his thumb and index, looking into the distance like he was contemplating to speak.

You watched as Eren stands in annoyance, his arms still crossed, "I mean, we could show her, but-"

"-We should, then it'll be fair."

Left in utter shock, were they insinuating you do something so delusional and sinful with your two closest friends? wouldn't that ruin years of friendship? Have they no morals? And to think Eren would have a little more decency.

"No, no way, don't be ridiculous."

Jean sucks his teeth, leaning in his chair so his elbows sat on his knees, the energy in the room had drastically changed, they were now watching you, making your hands anxiously tremble, their eyes scanning yours, while you tried to look at anything but them, heart out of your chest and now in your throat, they sat so relaxed, so casual like the proposition of sex didn't even phase them.

"C'mon, I want you to tell us who's better, you're our best friend, you're the best one to determine who's best." Jean pouts, this was a very clear-detectable manipulation, and you were not inept.

"Are you trying to manipulate me, Kirstein?" he shakes his head, leisurely stretching back into the chair, "because if you are it won't work on me." Jean peeks over to Eren, looking to be affirmed.

Eren plays with the hem of his shirt, a smug look on his lips, looking down to attempt to hide it.

Both men have talked about getting you to become their little toy, countless times at dinner with all the other cadets to embarrass you- or during the summer when you wore shorts to practice with your gear, sparring with a tank top, they both imagined unholy things, things you would believe to be appalling. "How about- better kisser?" tilting your head, that wasn't so much worse.

"Yeah, we've nearly kissed before too," Jean interjects, he saw your eyebrows scrunch, looking mindless, eyes so naive, his head full of vile thoughts, ways he and Eren could corrupt you, tear you open, and leave you begging for more. But they clearly couldn't let you know what they talked about.

So innocent.

"Sharing drinks," nodding slowly, the boys internally prayed you would loosen up only just a little, just a foot in the door so they could kick the fucking door down and break you in- they both figured it was about time anyways; you were a college student and hadn't done anything?

But you had not even a clue, that dumb little head of yours, how could you not comprehend their tactics. This was their way to get your legs open? This was laughable to them; too easy.

Dragging your ass across the bed, not leaning on the wall anymore; you sat criss-cross in the middle of the mattress, center of their attention, "I guess you're right." Mind racing, Jean would never talk to you again if you had said no to at least kissing, and Eren would probably get upset with you, not eager in being your friend, most likely following in his friend's lead.

Jean rolls closer to the side of the bed in your chair, not even a foot away from you.

"I can go first, Eren?" Eren nods, he was beyond delighted, this was fucking crazy. Truth was, Eren, who was seldom nervous over this type of thing; yet he was envious that Jean could be so... persistent; wishing he could be the same. With Jean grabbing your chin, such a pretty face you had, especially when you were anxious.

Easy to mold, easy to manipulate you; to do whatever he wanted with a bat of his eyelashes and a polite smile.

And here he was- in the back of his head - telling himself that he needed to teach you not to be so susceptible from now on.

He squanders no time, capturing your lips with his own, moving in a swift and low action, you kiss him back. He was incredible, it was at the perfect pace, the residing taste of mint gum that filled your mouth.

No wonder the girls loved Jean so much.

His thumb caressing your cheek which sent little cringes of anxiety throughout your body- realizing you had to kiss Eren after this, this was going to make you so dirty, but how could you kiss Jean and leave your other friend out? How unreasonable that would be.

Eren's abrupt words make you jump, "alright horse face, stop hogging and share." Jean pulls back, lips light rosy pink, even a little swollen, he rolls backward in the chair, the other young man sits up in front of you while still comfortable on the bed.

Instead of Jean's approach, Eren tilts your head, kissing your jawline first, tensing up from the ticklish feeling, soft lips establishing morale towards your choice in agreeing to do what they asserted; it wasn't that terrible after all.

He kisses up to the corner of your mouth and then slowly kisses you on the lips, eyes fluttering closed, drunk off his smell, stomach doing backflips.

Gradually pulling back, he's smiling like a fool before scooching backward back to his spot.

"Who do you think was better?" Jean rushes, blushing and looking to your lap, thumbs playing with each other, subconsciously hoping they would do a little more.  You didn't know who was better, they both were so good, too good.

"I don't know, you both are really good,"

Jean was going mad, you tasted so fucking good, and he didn't know how much longer he could contain himself, trying to remain relaxed.

Eren's dick twitching in his pants when he heard you finally say his name instead of Kerstein's, he was ecstatic...

Jean stands and scoffs, "alright I'll give him that, but I'm good at everything else. Eren s' a fucking virgin boy." biting your tongue, you felt guilty, Jean was really good, telling yourself 'maybe I should stop being so uptight, they would never actually hurt me.' Eren sees you ponder, looking into space while you stewed on your sentiments, Jean with no awareness as he rambles on and on about how experienced he is.

Gnawing on your bottom lip, anxious, you needed to make the first move- you needed to make this right.

Slowly, making sure they're both watching, you begin to unbutton your blouse, bottom-up.

"What are you doing?"

"You two wanted to show me who was better?"

Jean's eyes bug out of his head, smile growing across his face, Eren stands, embarrassed from your suggestion, they were nearly jumping for joy, "but I don't know ho-"

Jean jerked your shoulders, "relax," He whispers, out comes a shaky breath when his hands waste no time to finish unbuttoning your top. "You trust us, you wanna' feel good, right?"

The room was silent besides the pounding of your heart; could it have been any louder?

Blouse wide open for both of them to see your chest. Eren, who sat inches from you tugged at the fabric on your right shoulder, "so pretty- look at these Eren," Jean's large hands cupping your tits, sitting pretty in your bra, your throat grows increasingly dry, the feeling in between your legs tingling, though, you had no idea how to interpret it.

Eren stands back up, standing shoulder to shoulder with his friend, his hand caressing down your back and gripping at the flesh of your skin.

Looking at them as they stare at your chest, their hands all over you. "Do you know how to do anything at all?" Eren asks, shaking his head, he looks at Jean and pulls his hand back, "Jean and I are gonna ake care of you."

"Yeah, okay." Jean pushing you on your back, legs barely open, unbuttoned your pants, tugging them off hungrily. Both looking at you with lust-filled eyes, they had never seen you like this; so bare. Your legs are propped up so Jean and Eren can both stand before them. Their hands trailing up your jittery thighs.

"I'll get you ready, yeah? I don't want to hurt you." Responding with a simple nod, Jean is crouching down so his head is leveled to your clothed cunt, Eren sits back on the bed and slides his hand under your back; with one hand, he's unclasping your bra and peeling it off your body, his soft hands massaging your tits, nipples sensitive when his thumbs spend extra time on them.

Nerves doubling over when Jean's hands now pulling down your matching panties, head snapping up, legs shutting to deter them, Eren pushing you back down. "Calm down, you'll be fine." He reassures.

Eren feeling the soft skin, under his hands, rolling your nipple in between his fingers, Jean dragging his large hands in between your thighs, "have you ever fingered yourself y/n? Made yourself cum?" beyond embarrassed, the way they were taking their time on you, slowly feeling you up, you were almost becoming frustrated. Shaking your head, Jean clicks his tongue, "this might feel weird, but you trust us, right?" An audible gasp is shot out of your mouth when his middle finger is raking up between your folds.

Hissing out as he adds another finger, both of them running up and down your slick pussy, pressing down on a bundle of nerves, "feels- weird!" the more he played around with your sensitive clit, the more your leg twitched, the ticking feeling filling up your stomach, core flexing as he repeated his offense, the same sensitive rubs as his two fingers curled and fucked into you.

"Jean-” He was going so slow, making sure he didn't stretch you out too much, he needed to save that for later.

"Here, come taste."

Eren's grabbing Jean's hand, your tongue lolling out, his coated fingers dragging down your tongue, lips wrapping around his digits, tasting the juices from your cunt.

"Tastes good, right?" fingers still deep in your mouth, you're nodding like a fool, Jean smiling at the sight of the reaction bestowed on your face, the taste of your cum tainting your tastebuds; "of course she likes it, look at her, she wants more."

Eren nods in return, he leans down over you, soft hair falling on your chest as he leaves wet little kisses down your chest, peppering you with his lips down to your belly button.

Watching Jean, who is getting on the bed beside you, his knees next to your head, Eren jumping into action to take his best friends place, his sweats falling low just blow his v- line, he pushes them down, craning your neck to look up at Jean who his also pulling down his pants.

Your throat squeezes shut, lifting your head, "I don't you think that I-" Jean's hand grabbing your hair to silence you, jerking your neck up.

"Don't worry, I told you we'll help you."

"Jean, chill out a little." Eren mumbles, your head getting dropped back onto the bed, eyes fixated on Eren's wide torso, the tent in his boxers which made your mouth water, "I'll go slow, okay?" Palming his cock through his boxers, he holds your legs from under your knees, his boxers just under his cock, sliding his hand down and removes the little bit of coverage he had left. Your eyes widening, he spits in his hand, stroking his throbbing tip a few times with his thumb before adjusting forward and rubbing his raw cock up against your slicked pussy.

The feeling of Eren's thick tip squeezing inside of you makes you cry out in pain, the stinging pain of Eren taking his time to slide into you, fitting into you as much as he can.

Jean pinning your arms up above your head, tears spilling from your eyes, "h-hurts!" you whine, Jean beside you pumping his cock in his fist.

"So fuckin' tight, no wonder it hurts so bad." His hands pinning your legs open and up, he pulls out.

Without warning, he picks up speed, your body curling up from the pressure.

“I forgot what virgin pussy feels like, so tight-” he mumbled, his eyes rolling to the back of his head from the way he could feel his heartbeat in his cock, he needed this so bad.

The pressure soon becomes desirable, wanting to feel it everything he thrusts into you, your complaints soon turn to moans, looking at jean through your eyelashes while he's fixated on the way your boobs bounce while Eren dives deeper into you.

"Don't forget to help Jean out, remember?"

You're situating yourself up on your elbows, turning your body so your head is between Jean's thighs, he's pushing your hair back and holding it in a loose but sufficient grip, "let me guide you."

His thumb swipes down your bottom lip, opening your jaw, tongue sliding past your lips to wrap around his cock like it's instinct.

"Good, just like that," he groans, his hand on the back of your head guiding you further down the base of his cock, Eren fucking you slowly, savoring the feeling of your walls clench around him, sucking him in, he could stay like this forever.

Your neck uncomfortably stretched to pleasure Jean made it all the more painful when he started pushing down the back of your throat; harder to catch your breath, harder to swallow the saliva that was seeping up the back of your throat, trying not to cough around his length.

"Been waitin’ too long for this,” Eren grunts, the lewd noises of his hits snapping against yours on one end while your nose is barely brushing against Jean’s hair around his stomach.

Jean slowly pulls out of your throat, drool following, giving you the chance to speak, “Eren, h-hot!” you cried, your stomach twisting, pussy squelching around his wide cock, head dizzy as you begin to feel like your floating.

Jean sees your body shake from beside him, while he pumps his cock in his free hand, his other hand is kneading your tit in his hand. “Oi, I think she's gonna cum- c’mon it's gonna feel so good, you're so close, pretty girl.” Eren drilling into you with your legs pinned open, moaning and gasping for air as you feel your hole spasm, body tingling as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“C- I'm cumming!” your hand on Eren’s pec, pushing against him to ease the pressure of his cock buried fully inside of you, “f-fuck! Fuck, Eren!” his body sticky on top of yours, thighs uncomfortably stuck to his waist.

“God, can stay like this all day.” You panted like a dog, blinking the blurred vision out of your eyes from the blinding orgasm.

Jean’s getting off the bed, slapping your thigh to sign for Eren to get off of you, “I hope you can take it, pretty girl.” The brunette pulling up his boxers and sitting on the bed where Jean was just seated.

A panting mess, Jeans tearing you from your spot and pushing you on your hands and knees, Jean presses against the small of your back, pushing you into a deeper arch, abused pussy mere inches away from another cock.

Eren picks your head up by your hair, an evil smile growing on his face as he sees your face twist with pleasure, Jean pushing into your cunt, a mixture of his best friends’ cum already leaking out of your cunt, “gonna fill you some more, just stay still for me, okay?”

He holds your hips in place, the further his cock sunk into you, the more it hurt, the more he stretched you out, the more you were split open by the intimidating of him.

“If you keep squeezin’ me like that, ” he spits, unable to finish his sentence.

He thrusts into you from behind, held grounded in place as Jean ruts into your pussy mercilessly, Eren watching you cry and beg for stupid little nothings.

Cream covering his cock, feeling your walls tighten around him, he snakes his hand over your thigh, and to your clit, rubbing lose and light circles around the bud, your legs quivering, back jolting up from the overstimulation, “hm, what did I say about stating still?” ripping away from your clit, you whine and your back is pushed back down.

Jean mere inches away from climax, hips sputtering against your backside as you feel your juices drip down your thigh, sticking to his stomach.

Your head drops into the mattress.

“Pretty girl, we're far from done with you,” Eren’s purring into your ear, “dont give up now, we haven't gotten to the best part.”

The pad of Jean’s thumb is pressing against the rim of your tight, pretty virgin ass, “you can trust us, we haven't hurt you yet, have we?”

Nodding, this was only the beginning of a very- very long night. One of many, actually.

[ysljoon]

Personal Business|CEO!Jeon Jungkook x Assistant Reader

This fanfic is mature so please avoid if you are not 18+ this is also a yandere fic so there are sensitive topics. 

Warnings: Yandere themes, noncon sex, public sex, crying, fingering (f receiving), dirty talk (jungkook has a filthy mouth christ), creampie, assault?

Being the personal assistant to Jeon Jungkook definitely has been a rollercoaster of experiences, but after working with him for about 2 years now you’ve gotten used to his erratic behavior such as mood swings and unreasonable demands. Everyone in the workplace has admired how long you’ve stuck around, but the paycheck you receive every two weeks is too pretty to pass up. You saw the listing for the job on a job search website and the pay per hour almost had you pass out, but once you came into the office you realized you were getting paid so generously almost as a test to see if the money could keep you around and it sure has.

Today Jungkook was in an extra gruff mood for the day because he had plenty of meetings to go through and not enough time for proper breaks and that’s the least ideal day for him. He loves breaks as much as any other person, but just tenfold. Everyone in the office is allowed a 45 minute lunch break, but since Jungkook is the CEO he will disappear on 2 hour breaks and not a single person knows where he goes. Not even you and people don’t understand how since you’re practically his right hand. You pay no mind to his whereabouts since it doesn’t affect and busy yourself with whatever tasks Jungkook left for you to do. Today he left no tasks for you since he’s been cooped up in his office occupied with other business officials. You haven’t been able to meet with him to get a briefing for the day so now you’re talking with Taehyung at his cubicle while you share a small pizza he ordered for lunch.

“Taehyung, I’m telling you right now there is no way that Joon and the receptionist don’t have something going on! They’re always eyeing each other up and Namjoon is always requesting for her to come to his office. It’s highly suspect.” You explained your reasoning to Taehyung exasperated and took another bite of your crust.

“Listen Y/N, all I’m saying is that it’s way too obvious for it to actually have any worth. Anyways you know how Mr. Jeon feels about workplace romance; he absolutely abhors the thought and would probably fire people on the spot if he ever found out.”

You continued to have your disagreement with Taehyung for a little while more, but what you didn’t realize was that Jungkook was done with his meeting a while ago and was watching you on his laptop through the camera system and was frowning deeply watching you fraternize with your coworker. He was tired of watching you practically throw yourself at Taehyung when you were his and only his. Jungkook got up from his desk and strode to Taehyung’s cubicle to stop this foolishness immediately.

“Mr. Kim, is there a reason why you are holding up my assistant from her work and why the expense report I asked you to do isn’t done?” Jungkook had a look on his face that he wanted to wring Taehyung’s neck and he was very close to, but he didn’t want to scare you off. He had to have you in his possession before he got rid of anybody that even tried to look in your direction so for right now this was his version of playing it cool.

“I-I’m very sorry sir it won’t happen again and I’ll get right to it!” Taehyung quickly turned to his computer and fervently typed in his password to get to work immediately. Jungkook then turned to you and grabbed you by the arm to drag you to his office. You were shocked and stunned by this action because sure he had talked to you roughly, but had never put his hands on you. He swiftly pulled you into his office and slammed the door. He even fully shut his blinds. This started to have you scared. He had this look in his eyes that made your body start to tremble. “S-sir I’m sorry for not working! I just wasn’t able to get the daily briefing for today so I tried my best to get work done. I had a lot of free time so I thought to spend it with Taehyung. I’m sorry if that was wasting company time you can deduct it from my pay!” You were heavily breathing by the time you were done with your panicked spiel. Jungkook chuckled at your anxiety and strode towards you till you were backed up into the wall and at this point you thought he could feel how fast your heart was beating in your chest.

“Darling, if you really want to make it up to me you can kiss me.” He purred in your ear and it sent sickening shivers up your spine. Your head started to spin when you felt him plant his lips on the column of your neck and work his way up to your jaw. You tried to shove him off, but naturally he was able to overpower you and he used his leg and chest to trap you between him and the wall.

“My dear Y/N, I hope you cooperate with me if you know what’s good for you.” He slyly grinned against your skin and started to passionately kiss you. To really show he was in charge he bit down on your bottom lip with force you have never felt before. It had you cry out in pain, but you were quickly silenced when you felt your boss reach under your skirt and start to trace circles against your cunt. He placed a hand against your mouth and gave you a threatening look you have never seen. It was so sinister it had you squirming away from his touch. You thought you could have gotten away but by the time you were able to slide past his body he was grabbing your wrist and slamming you down against his desk which sent things tumbling down to the floor.

“Jungkook, please stop, I'm so sorry!” You didn’t even realize you were bawling at this point, but he ignored your pleas and sobs and continued with his sinister acts. He grasped your wrists in one hand and with his other he slid your panties off and inserted a single long finger into your cunt. “Fuck baby, you’re so tight and wet for me.” He kept pumping his finger into you until he felt like he could insert another one into you. Once the second finger was deep in your hole Jungkook started to pick up the pace and you couldn’t even cry out to what he was doing to you. You felt numb and helpless and wanted him to stop, but your efforts were useless.

“Kitten, I want to hear you. I want to hear how good I make you fucking feel. I want to see you get dumb on my fucking fingers and cock that you don’t even know what to do with yourself. I want you to beg to have your dirty cunt stretched out.” Hearing your boss talk to you like this makes you speechless, but you listen to him because you don’t know what other worse things he can do to you. You let your body succumb to what he’s doing and you let out small moans and whimpers and this makes him let out his own grunts and groans in response. Before you can assess what’s happening when you feel his fingers slip out of your soaked pussy, Jungkook is shoving his cock balls deep into you and you gasp for air feeling the heavy pressure between your legs. He doesn’t give you any time to adjust and starts to pound into you. You cry out in both pain and pleasure from hearing skin slap against skin. You feel close to an orgasm and tears are rolling down your cheeks from desperation. “Sir please let me cum! I need to cum so bad! Please let me cum all over your cock.” You can’t even process the words you’re saying, you just want to have your release so badly. Jungkook slaps your ass and groans a ‘fuck yes baby’ and just seconds after that action you’re creaming on his thick cock. You feel your walls pulse around your boss and this brings him close to the edge and he’s losing control over himself. He starts to wild slam into your cunt and after a few more pumps he’s spilling his cum into you and you feel delirious from everything that had just happened. You hear him adjusting himself behind you, but you can’t bring yourself to even move at the moment. You hear his steps come close to you and you just lie there motionless while you wait for him to speak. “I can’t wait to bring you home with me princess.” After that sentence all you can recall is a blunt object coming in contact with your skull and nothing else.

Notes: thank you so much for reading I’ve been on a pretty solid hiatus and will crosspost what I have written on AO3 on to here too because I have some fics there that I haven’t posted on to Tumblr! If you enjoyed please like and reblog it really helps and you can also give me a Kofi.

[thesolferino]

⤷ note: apologies for losing your request, anon, but thank you for requesting! this is my first time writing a full fic in second person, so bear with me, and i hope this is what you were looking for <3

The Great American Bake Off

pairing: corpse husband x gn!reader

word count: 3.6k

genre: fluff

summary: you’ve been jealous of rae and her closeness with your boyfriend since the dawn of time, but things change and friendships are made once she comes over for one hell of a cooking video.

Corpse, among many other things, was a man many wished to have.

It’s the truth; even if he didn’t have a YouTube channel through which millions kept up with everything from horror stories to Among Us gameplays, people would still turn heads and whisper whenever he spoke - that attention more than multiplied when he started blowing up and his social media presence grew.

With growth come numbers, and there are always people behind said numbers. Through them, Corpse makes wonderful friends - through them, you had met him, too. All the way back, during his horror narration days, you had grown to like him - really, who wouldn’t?

A DM you once sent after a few drinks, when you claimed to your friends you’d get the “deep-voiced man of your dreams” you often talked about and they, in turn, challenged you to message him, was nothing short of a joke and the idea of him responding was merely a pipe dream. What you hadn’t expected, however, was a response, which wrecked your brain at noon the next day, where your head throbbed with embarrassment, guilt, pride, happiness, a melt of hatred and gratefulness for your friends, panic and the remains of alcohol that tugged at every part of your skull.

It had turned out to be more than a great idea, though, because for the next few weeks you were constantly talking. You learned so much more than he let on in videos, and during late night calls you found out everything from his favorite clothing brand to his favorite color to his thoughts about his own mortality and then back to his favorite cereal. Audio calls and short voice messages turned into hours long FaceTimes that led you from friends to something more. And after a year or so of dating, you packed your bags and made it to sunny San Diego, ready to lay in his arms and sweat bullets.

Safe to say Corpse’s social media presence had its good sides. However, with all good things come bad things too, and you weren’t sure if the bad things were bad at all or you were simply too jealous.

Corpse made wonderful friends thanks to his YouTube channel. He met people he could confide in, meet, people he could talk to about his worst problems, people who would listen - he met people he could have fun with, with who he could forget all about the real world and his own issues, and simply laugh his heart away, play games until the late hours of the night.

If he had to name his closest ones, they would have to be Dave, Loey, maybe Mykie, possibly Jack, and Rae. And that is exactly where the root of the problem stood.

Rae is beautiful, and everyone who denies it must be either dumb or blind. She’s drop dead gorgeous, and funny, and kind, and smart, in a way that made you want to rip your hair out. You wanted to hate her so bad, because the jealousy ate away at you like a damn disease, but you couldn’t, because she was perfect Rae, and as much as you hated the fact she seemed to be perfect inside out, you just couldn’t hate her as her. It was impossible, you concluded.

You convinced yourself you weren’t jealous every time you heard him yelling or laughing at her from his office room - or at least you attempted to do so. Your lunch would turn sour and end up forgotten because you’d be way too focused on listening in on what he was doing and trying to make out what she was saying to even eat at the same pace you previously were. Jealousy ate away at you, no matter if you admitted it to yourself or not.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Corpse, of course. On one late night when you couldn’t sleep and neither could he, as per usual, you turned on a random comedy that you half-heartedly paid attention to, his fingers combing through the knots in your hair peacefully and the slow pace of the movie lulling you to sleep slowly. That is, before his phone rang and lit the mostly dark room. You managed to sneak a glance at the notification before he had, and the familiar bitterness seeped between your ribs as always upon seeing the name displayed at the top of the message, more than awake now.

You visibly stiffened when he laughed at the message and typed something back, shifting your head in his lap as some subconscious attempt at getting him to pay attention to you instead. He put his phone down and you huffed, eyes locked on the TV screen as you pretended to be extremely absorbed in the movie even though you weren’t quite sure of the difference between the protagonist and antagonist anymore. His hands didn’t return to your hair, and that somehow made you even more annoyed.

“What’s up?” Corpse quietly spoke up, barely over the volume over the already quiet movie.

“Nothing.” You said, quicker than you wanted to, and you bit your tongue in cringe when you realised it was an awful lie. Corpse seemed to think the same.

“That’s bullshit. Seriously, what’s wrong?” He asked, and was met with pure silence. In reality, you were hoping he’d simply never realise you were somewhat jealous, because you knew you were being stupid and unreasonable, but you couldn’t help wanting him all to yourself. Admitting it out loud made it so much more real, and so much more embarrassing that you would rather bury yourself alive than admit to being jealous of Rae, of all people.

After a few seconds of silence, save the laughter of characters on screen, he spoke again.

“Are you jealous?” The hint of a teasing tone in his voice made you want to rip your hair out of your skull. Was it really that damn hard to believe that yes, you were jealous of an extremely close friend of his? Was it a crime?

The clenching of your jaw seemed to give Corpse enough of a response, and his hands returned to running themselves through your hair as he giggled to himself. 

“What’s so damn funny?” You borderline spat, causing his movements to halt for a second before continuing with even louder laughter.

“I don’t know, just the idea of you being jealous of Rae is so funny. I’ve noticed the way you roll your eyes whenever I text her in front of you. You’re not exactly sneaky, you know?” His words made blood rush straight to your face, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. How long has he known this for?

“Sorry. I don’t…” you exhaled and attempted to smile. “I don’t know what’s up with me. I’m so jealous nowadays. I don’t even know why.”

“There’s enough of me to share with everyone, no worries baby.” he replied, teasing tone still yet to dissipate as you slap his knee in mock offense and he starts wheezing.

“Absolutely not! Fucking excuse you, I’m not sharing with anyone!” you gaped at him as he kept laughing.

That was the end of it - or at least Corpse thought so. Needless to say, he was wrong.

Your mood would instantly turn sour whenever he’d laugh at one of her messages, and you attempted to push down every eye roll whenever he’d sit on his phone, between your legs, back turned to you so you could see everything, and open Rae’s DMs again. Sometimes you managed, sometimes you couldn’t help it, but you did your best to do it whenever he wasn’t looking. Because you truly knew you were being unreasonable, especially whenever you have to relay situations like how he had to postpone a date one time because Rae asked him to play Rust for a bit longer and you almost ripped all your hair out of your skull in frustration back to your best friend who just turned Rae and Corpse into the villains in the situation because that’s what best friends are supposed to do.

Not like he was going out of his way to talk to her a concerning amount, they mostly talked in groupchats and on streams and that was only a few times weekly, but it did absolutely nothing to calm the green monster growing stronger in you every day, fed by every laugh she got out of him.

The green monster fucking loved it when Corpse excitedly announced to you that he’s finally meeting his friends for the first time, and by friends meaning Rae, Sykkuno and Karl. You, however… were far from impressed.

He paced around the room in excitement, a mix of obvious anxiety and joy evident on his face, and he fiddled with the strings of his hoodie with shaky hands as he very proudly announced that he would be the second tallest person in the room through a blinding, pearly grin, and seeing him so electrified couldn’t help but make you shut your jealous thoughts up, even if just for a little bit, and mirror his grin back to him.

What did, however, make you as anxious as him was when he announced they’d a) be coming to your shared apartment and b) making a cooking video - it sent you into a panicked mom mode as you dusted every corner of every room and vacuumed everything from the kitchen to the balcony and Corpse did nothing but record you as you anxiously rambled and laugh at you from his place on your bed.

When the dreaded Saturday finally came, and the first person to arrive, Sykkuno, rang your doorbell, you squeezed Corpse’s hand to stop him from nervously toying with his rings and opened the door, and you greeted the man like he was your own brother and not a person you’d seen probably a total of three times through the computer screen and someone who’s seen you maybe two times, from the pictures Corpse sent him, in your best attempt to make both of them more comfortable. It actually kind of worked - turns out Sykkuno is a pretty affectionate guy, too, and a conversation started as soon as he stepped in. Corpse gave you a look when you pulled away from Sykkuno’s half-hug, and you almost laughed out loud at the irony when his phone lit up with a notification from Rae announcing she was almost there at that exact moment.

She had kept true to her word; ten minutes or so later, another ring was heard and you gestured to Corpse to open it this time as you gave Sykkuno his cup of water and resisted any and every urge to roll your eyes or do something otherwise bitchy and stupid. Corpse did as told, and you watched them hug and listened to Rae squeal in excitement through the open door of the living room and decided to plaster a smile on your face for as long as you could muster before you remove yourself from the situation when they start filming.

Unfortunately for you, the first person she locked eyes with was exactly you, and they lit up an even prettier brown (if that was even possible) as she beelined to you and you barely got a greeting out before she engulfed you in a large hug, arms wrapping around your neck as she swayed both of you side to side.

“Oh my God, you must be Y/N! I’ve heard so much about you, it’s so nice to finally meet you!” Rae cheered into your ear before she finally pulled back, before shooting an infectious grin at you that you couldn’t help but return back.

“All good things, I hope.” you chuckled as she moved to greeting Sykkuno, and nodded her head with an enthusiastic giggle of her own. You eyed Corpse for a second who simply leaned against the door frame, watching the whole thing unfold with somewhat of a proud smile on his face, before Rae turned back to you and your attention was on her again.

“Of course! Corpse is very much a simp for you, you know that?” She said and both you and Corpse laughed, especially him, who nodded his head in agreement as she sat back down, still beaming at you.

“Well, I’m happy to hear that.” you respond before turning back to Corpse. “Where’s Karl at?”

“He’ll be here in half an hour or so, he only landed recently.” he said. You nodded and moved to sit on a nearby chair to leave space for the guests on the couch.

Karl ended up arriving in twenty minutes and apprised everyone of the information that “his taxi driver is a psycho that, apparently, doesn’t fear stop signs or the police” before setting up the camera in your kitchen and tried his best to attach lapel mics on everybody (admittedly, it took way longer than it should’ve, but he eventually managed and that counted as a win in his book). You reluctantly agreed to be the judge of the finished product when they’re done cooking, and Karl was there for the purposes of being a cameraman and making jokes off screen so he agreed too, albeit way more enthusiastically than you.

The two of you sat behind the camera as the three of them lined up, Corpse wearing a mask and his signature eyepatch (that he didn’t really need, but those two did their job in preserving his privacy) and introduced what they were doing. Corpse was obviously very anxious, hands fidgeting constantly and shivering like a dog after a bath despite the hoodie he was wearing in 100 degree weather because of the shower of sweat that was now drying on his body, and that was partly why you were there, supportive smiles, encouraging cheers and all.

They were making Mexican ground beef tacos, and despite knowing Corpse can barely make a sandwich without setting at least two dishes on fire, you still cheered him on proudly and repeated he was part Mexican himself roughly 5 times a minute, claiming he was going to kill it.

“Kill it? More like kill one of us- CORPSE watch what you’re doing with that fucking knife! You’re proving my point!” Rae yelled at him as he giggled in delight, watching the woman gape at him in pure horror and Sykkuno watch his movements completely entranced as he played with the knife in his hands.

“You’re just mad that he’s going to make tacos fifty times better than you.” you said to Rae, chewing down on some M&Ms that Karl and you shared (both of you decided on a genius plan - you’re going to eat the whole bag before they’re done with cooking so you can claim you’re full and therefore can’t eat the atrocity that will most likely be the tacos).

“Don’t gas me up like that, Y/N, you are well aware I’m shit at cooking. Expect absolutely nothing from me.” he replied over the sizzling of the meat on the pan, throwing a whole spoonful of chili powder into it, earning loud yelling and scolding from your side and loud laughter from Rae.

“HALF A TEASPOON! Half a teaspoon, how have you not remembered this already?! We’ve made tacos a million times now, oh my God, you’re actually stupid.” you yelled at him, arms flailing in the direction of the seasoning to emphasise your ‘half a teaspoon’ point as Rae doubled over in laughter and Sykkuno looked into the pan with a concerned and somewhat afraid look. Just as he peeked in, the overwhelming smell of chili powder started biting away at his eyes, and he jumped away with a yelp.

“Jesus, Corpse!” he exclaimed, rubbing his eyes with his forearm as the whole room burst into laughter and Corpse suspiciously inspected his beef.

“What were you saying about your ‘Mexican king’, Y/N?” Rae asked, pulling out a few tortillas and putting them on the table. You huffed, grabbing another handful of M&Ms.

“Giving him up to God. He’s the only one who can help, at this point.” you said. She giggled in response and Corpse let out some sort of protesting sound and waved his knife around in complaint. “I don’t know who this man is. He broke into my kitchen and now I’m here.”

“Hey, I pay half of your rent!” he said, and you were about to reply but Rae dropped her meat into a pan full of overheated oil, and a loud hiss and some sort of a scream overtook the room as a cloud of steam shot into the air and she frantically looked around for the wooden spoon so the meat wouldn’t stick to the pan. You simply sat and laughed, eating the candy like it was popcorn and you were watching a shitty cooking show - it wasn’t that far from reality, really.

“Um, I just realised I don’t make many tacos, actually.” she said as she helplessly stirred the meat, turning to you with pleading eyes. “What seasoning even goes into this? Y/N, will you help me? Let’s team up against Corpse!”

You tilted your head in thought, but before you could even speak, Corpse spoke up.

“That’s not fucking fair, that’s-that’s against the rules.” he turned to you. “You won’t betray me, right?”

You laughed at him, adjusting in your seat. “I gave up on you ever since you added, like, 3 kilos of seasoning into the meat for no reason.” then you turned to Rae. “Sure, let’s do it, babe.”

Their loud yelling immediately started mixing, Rae’s cheers contrasting Corpse’s protesting. She stuck her tongue out at him meanwhile Corpse shot her the middle finger, and she turned back to you with a grin.

“Alright, what do I put in?”

Roughly twenty unnecessary and extremely long minutes later, the tacos were done, two each for each of them. Rae’s looked the best - probably because you guided her through the whole thing - next to Sykkuno’s, whose you were genuinely intrigued to try. While Corpse was arguing with Rae, he burned roughly half of his already ruined beef, and Karl made the very nice observation that it looked like a bird shat in a tortilla, which you proclaimed as the highlight of the video.

Since you and Karl claimed you were full, the three of them simply swapped tacos between each other as to be unbiased, and the two of you watched in amused suspense. You were actually quite interested to see what the end results were - you were first anxious and quite annoyed you even had to participate in the first place, because it meant losing your mind from jealousy, watching Corpse and Rae giggle and act all domestic while cooking, but jealousy simply dissipated somewhere half through the video as you watched the three argue if cheddar cheese belonged on tacos or not and Rae laugh at every stupid joke you cracked. Now, you sat, fully immersed as you stared at Sykkuno’s face; the poor guy ended up with the misfortune of having to try Corpse’s taco first.

“Zoom in, zoom in!” you whispered into Karl’s ear who complied and zoomed into Sykkuno’s face. He bit into the taco, chewing for a second before his face twisted in disgust and you began wheezing when he grabbed a tissue and spit it out, immediately grabbing his glass of water. Rae laughed at him as well, mouth full of his one, which she claimed she actually liked but it wasn’t as good as the “Y/NRae-co” as she proudly called it. Corpse silently ate Rae’s taco and refused to give a review on it because he was upset he got defeated, but the fact that he scarfed down the whole thing in a minute or so was enough of a review.

“Oh, come on, it can’t be that bad.” Corpse exclaimed when he saw Sykkuno’s bite in the tissue, grabbing the second taco he made and biting down on it. The whole room burst into laughter when he roughly swallowed, tears obvious in the one eye that showed, because of the overly spicy beef.

“What are you motherfuckers laughing at? It’s not that bad, I stand by tacorpse.”

“Tacorpse is actually genius. The one good thing you came up with during the entirety of this video.” Rae said and Corpse mumbled a fuck you in response.

“Well, I think we can all agree that me and Y/N’s taco was clearly the best.” she said, clasping her hands together.

“I actually think mine was better.” Sykkuno said, to which she pushed his plate out of the frame.

“Nobody asked you anything.”

“Don’t bully Sykkuno, I’ll fucking kick you out.”

“Oh yeah? I’m pretty sure Y/N would kick you out before they’d let you kick me!” Rae said, accusingly pointing her taco in Corpse’s direction.

“Alright, let’s wrap up the video.” Karl laughed behind the camera, and the three of them all turned to properly face it and end the video.

“Thank you all so much for watching, this has been an… interesting video, to say the least. Uh, thank you to Karl for filming this whole disaster, thank you to Corpse,” Rae gestured in his direction, “for lending us his kitchen, thank you to Sykkuno for probably getting us more views on this video, and also a big thank you to Y/N, Corpse’s better half for making this video way more interesting and helping me make probably, like, the best taco I’ve ever made.” she grinned and you shoved a peace sign in front of the camera.

“If you liked this video, check out Sykkuno and Corpse’s channels, they will be linked down below, and please click like and subscribe to support the channel! Again, thank you all for watching, see you later, bye!” she finished, and with that, Karl turned the camera off.

Silence engulfed the room. You sighed.

“Alright, who’s gonna clean this shit up?”

[agent-cupcake]

IDK why but yandere prompt 10 screams sylvain to me! it's okay if you dont wanna do this one, though. thank you for opening requests! ive really enjoyed all your writings

10. “I don’t know what I would do if I couldn’t have you.”

Sylvain didn’t greet you when you took a seat beside him, ready for the meeting to be called. Agriculture wasn’t a particular interest of yours, but it was a part of your duty as the wife of an important, land-owning lord to be invested in the affairs of Gautier territory. For his part, your husband didn’t seem terribly enthused. Just as you were about to ask if he was okay, he spoke.

“Who was he?” Sylvain asked in a would-be casual voice, low enough to be lost in the mindless chatter of the slowly filling council room.

The question usually went something like that, innocuous but pointed enough for you to know where it was headed. And you knew who and what he was referring to, knew it so intently that you felt a completely unreasonable stab of guilt because you knew how Sylvain was, how he might have interpreted your interaction with one of the male mages working on the current project. As familiar as the question was, you couldn’t immediately guess the tone. Sylvain was tricky, always masking his intentions behind playful masks and a glip front.  

“Who?” you asked, playing dumb. That sometimes worked. If it seemed like you were innocent, he might drop it and move on. It would be incriminating if you admitted that you knew what he meant right away. And if he was just teasing, playing around to fill the part of the protective husband, you didn’t mind the role of the oblivious wife. Really, you wished you were that type of woman. Blind to the world, and especially the men, around you. Everything would be so much easier.

"That guy you were talking to,” Sylvain explained, dangerously nonchalant. “The two of you seemed pretty close.”

“Really? We only met… Mmm, last week?” you replied, refusing to meet his eye or become flustered. That would just make you seem guilty. Which you weren’t. “He’s from Fhirdiad, one of the mages who are working on solutions to fertilizing the soil in the fields near the Fraldarius border.” You hesitated, searching for something to add, something to change the subject and ease the tension. “Um, the tests so far have been really encouraging. They’re thinking that next spring they can have at least half of that land ready for production.”

"Yeah, I heard about that,” Sylvain said, nodding off your attempt to distract him. “I was just asking ‘cause you were laughing pretty hard.”

There it was. Sylvain’s tone, as you had come to know quite intimately, was cool, a little stiffer than his usual way of speaking. Lacking inflection. It was always like that with him. He never told you outright when he thought or felt or explained his stark shift in demeanor, always skirting around the subject with those needling little questions, maintaining his façade of indifference even as a storm brewed behind his dark eyes. Once, what felt like a lifetime ago, he told you that he’d never experienced jealousy before you. He told you that it hurt. Was this pain? Was that what made everything so uneasy and uncomfortable, leaving you scrambling to find the words to ease his mind?

You forced a faint smile, clinging to your innocence. “Was I?”

“Yeah,” Sylvain said, clearly not buying it. If anything, his eyes just narrowed. “You were.”

“We were just discussing his work. If I was laughing, I don’t…” You shook your head, forcing a shrug. “Please don’t get the wrong idea.”

“The wrong idea?” he asked. “I was just wondering who he is.”

“For no reason,” you said, some of your frustration leaking through.

“Yeah, sure, for no reason,” Sylvain agreed in an amicably flat tone. “Although now I’m curious about why you’re so defensive.” He paused, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “I guess he was kinda handsome. Are you worried I’m jealous?”

“That’s not-”

“‘Cause I’m not…” he insisted. “Unless there’s a reason I should be.”

There wasn’t. There never was. You never thought like that. But he did. Sylvain always did, those too keen eyes of his following you around, waiting for you to slip up in some way, to do something for him to misinterpret in the most uncharitable ways he could. Even if it was ignored, unspoken, willed out of existence through the sheer force of his adoration, yours was not a relationship born out of the stuff of romantic novels or even the clumsy affections of young lovers. For as obsessively insistent he once was in proving your own feelings to you, sometimes it was like Sylvain didn’t believe it when you told him you loved him and only him. Because there was a time―such a long time ago, hardly worth remembering―when you didn’t mean it. Even though you did now, that memory was his constant anxiety, an endless tension lingering right below the surface.

“I don’t want to fight,” you finally said, spreading your hands out in an attempt to de-escalate the situation, to convince him of your innocence. “I swear that it meant nothing. But… but if it makes you uncomfortable, I won’t talk to him again. I really, honestly don’t care.”

“Sheesh, you make me sound like I’m some sort of control freak,” Sylvain said with an air of coolly playful offense, leaning back in his chair. “Why would you even assume I’m trying to fight?”

“I don’t-”

“I’m not,” he said before you could really respond. Not loudly, never loud enough to draw any unnecessary attention to the two of you. Sylvain always knew exactly how to skirt the line of propriety in public. “It’s not like it’s even my business who you talk to. I’m only your husband. No big deal, really.”

“It is!” you insisted, heat burning at the back of your eyes. Realizing you’d spoken a bit too loud, you softened your voice, glancing around the room to ensure nobody heard the slip-up. “You are. Of c-course you are.” Maybe it was the trembling of your bottom lip as you stared hard at the table to fight off the tears burning your eyes that made regret flash over Sylvain’s face. Sometimes, when he was in a very particular type of mood, your crying only spurred him on, but not now.

“H-hey,” Sylvain told you, leaning close and draping his arm across your shoulders. “Don’t cry. I was just playing around. Guess I let it go too far.” Now he seemed apologetic, looking at you with a sheepish smile.

You met his eyes, confusion and distress giving away to understanding. Of course Sylvain had only been pretending. And you had been overreacting, always too sensitive to this kind of thing. Embarrassment followed the momentary emotional lapse, frustration that you wouldn’t just go along with his antics and had to go and make it all weird. Relief, too. It was just pretend, after all. He wasn’t upset with you.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?” Sylvain asked sweetly, pulling you towards him with the arm around your shoulders, his soft voice tickling your ear.

“You’re too mean,” you told him. But the words weren’t serious. They made him smile fondly, such a dramatic shift from the Sylvain of only minutes before.

“I’ve gotta keep you on your toes,” he said. “You never know what’s going on in the heads of pretty girls like you. I mean, imagine if I lost you to a guy who studies dirt. I’d never live it down.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you told him, leaning into the half embrace.

“Isn’t it? But, you know, I can’t help it.” Sylvain leaned in even closer, speaking in such a low, intimate way that it definitely pushed the lines of propriety, even for him. “I don’t know what I would do if I couldn’t have you.”      

[stormyoceans]

[VICE VERSA episode 2 parts 1&2]

“It’s the same as hitting on someone, keep pushing and pushing” You, stop talking right now

Ah yes the shooting arrows scene, amazing

Talay last time you two spoke he told you he hates you, what makes you think antagonising him on his archery skills is gonna make that any better

“Move, I need space.” Tun: “oh I’ll move. Very very far away”

Looove that Ohm goes back to being Sea as soon as Tun’s left

And when he talks to Tun he’s Ohm again

THE HALF-HEARTED PICTURE-TAKING

Given that the whole “Tess dated a girl Tun liked” thing isn’t even true where the hell did people get that idea, especially since marriage is equal in this universe and so I assume/hope people are more accepting

“I’m a screenwriter, I have to believe in anything” Not sure how that works

Crying at how Talay’s wearing a different outfit everytime he talks to Tun in this episode, as if it’s the fault of the clothing

YEAH SO THAT SCRIPT BELONGED TO HIM /AND/ HIS FRIENDS AND HE JUST LEFT IT ON THE FLOOR (I assume they have digital copies but still)

W h a t is the music playing as Talay puts an arm around Tun’s shoulders

The half-hearted hand tap ;;

“Take that stupidity to your grave” I’ve always loved that line, it’s so fucking good

“Can you make the light pinker?” THIS GUY GETS IT

Talay @ the pink light: >:( 

“The reason I broke up with you. The truth is…” I’m a lesbian

Also I get it now, people believe the “stealing Tun’s crush” story because Tess is a piece of shit

Ah yes the first instance of drunk!Talay blurting out universe-swapping stuff

Can’t believe I was such a dumb-dumb the first time watching and didn’t realise Tun was now Puen basically until Jimmy appeared on-screen

Gorgeous transition though

They love the on-key singing too so WHAT’S THE DEAL HERE, THIS IS MAKING ME UNREASONABLY ANGRY

“He loved that cat more than his life apparently” Tbh same and that’s not even a joke, I have three cats and I love cats to death and I’d sooner end up in the hospital than run one over

Puen: “what are you talking about?” *tries to act cool by drowning his anxiety in a drink*

Puen died in a car accident, almost hit a cat, and later in the show gets caught drunk driving, this guy should not be allowed behind the wheel

Puen I get that you won’t tell him your name now but you’ll tell him eventually right? …. RIGHT??

Talay acting so all-knowing about the situation all of a sudden, these dorks are both trying too hard to look cool

“Whom should I go to?” “Me” Puen: *d-doki*

Those cups couldn’t be any emptier if they tried

Okay but what if he HAD been naked under there Talay

Kdfjksdl the drunk kissing scene is so fecking cute, one of my fave scenes tbh

I’m glad Talay didn’t use tongue because his breath must stink like hell

TAKE THOSE SHOES OFF OR I’LL THROW THEM AT YOUR FUCKING HEAD

“Me hurting you sounds more like it” At least ASK if he’s into that, god

“Why did you mention it in the first place?” BECAUSE HE WAS WORRIED ABOUT HAVING HURT YOU WHILE HAMMERED, YOU’RE THE ONE WHO MADE IT ABOUT SEX

Those bread cone thingies look delicious ngl

So I loved this from the get-go but I still love that Talay guesses “Rose” and neither of them comments how that’s “weird” because it’s a girl’s name

“Don’t you know the quote from that movie?” Puen: hang on I gotta be as extra about my answer as possible

AI’DANG! AI’DANG, AI’DANG, AI’DANG <3

Is… is the cone in his mouth a metaphor for…….

“Tess didn’t go easy on the car” It looked fine to me when you tried to give Tun a lift

Oh my goddddd I love this girl, I don’t know if she’s a cameo but I’m in love with her energy

Also she’s you when Puen starts kissing Talay asljdfkldd

talay showing up in front of tun with a new outfit every time: that will throw him off his rhythm STREET SMARTS!!!!!!!

yeah the reason why everyone believed that tess dated a girl tun liked is because the asshole actually went around BRAGGING about stealing her from tun to all his friends. that alone already tells me everything i need to know about tess but somehow he's gonna get even worse, if you can believe it. also i know love is blind and all that but tun.... my dude....... you can do SO MUCH BETTER

[ENTER PUEN] [EXIT MY SANITY] LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

im gonna take a moment to lose my mind over the lyrics of the song puen decides to sing because "DID IT ACTUALLY HAPPEN OR AM I DREAMING/US MEETING EACH OTHER IN THIS WORLD/DON'T KNOW HOW TO PUT IT/BUT WITH ALL MY HEART I BELIEVE THIS IS/A MIRACLE THAT WE MET/IT'S A MIRACLE THAT I LOVE YOU/IT'S THE GREATEST MIRACLE I'VE EVER WITNESSED/OH YOU ARE THE MIRACLE" [FROTHING AT THE MOUTH CLAWING AT THE WALLS GOING RABID] literally the most puentalay song to ever exist they're gonna play it at their wedding and slow dance to it and puen still hums it to talay from time to time when he can't believe he actually gets to spend the rest of his life with talay

DRUNK KISS MY BELOVED!!!!!!!!!!! GOD I TRULY ADORE THAT SCENE SO MUCH. i still can't believe talay really tried true love's kiss as a way to bring them back to their universe sfjksgdj he is such an endearing and dramatic drunk!!!! i really wish we could have had at least one more scene with talay being drunk around puen because talay is usually very self-conscious and tends to keep everything to himself, but when he's drunk he's just so openly affectionate and honest!!!!!! i know he would cling to puen the entire time and tell puen all kinds of things he'd be to embarrassed to say while sober and puen would be SO FOND!!!!!! anyway, back to the kiss, i know we all laugh at puen's expressions during that scene, but i love how realistic his reaction is!!!! also episode 2 and 3 are so important to me because you can literally pinpoint every single moment that makes puen fall in love with talay and this is such an important one for both of them!!!!!

“Me hurting you sounds more like it” At least ASK if he’s into that, god <<<<< IM NOT SPEAKING I REFUSE TO SPEAK

Is… is the cone in his mouth a metaphor for……. <<<<< 😏😏😏👀👀👀🤭🤭🤭 (apparently im 12 sfjksgdksg)

Also she’s you when Puen starts kissing Talay asljdfkldd

WE'RE BOTH SQUEALING WITH DELIGHT KICKING OUR FEET COVERING OUR FACE BLUSHING SHE'S JUST LIKE ME FR (also yeah, she's sadly just a cameo but i really like her as an actress i'd love to see her in a GL)

ending this by saying that im forever mourning THIS archery scene from the mock trailer that didn't make it into the actual show:

LOOK AT THE CHEMISTRY THE FLAVOR THE SERVE BRING HER BACK

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

A Fine Line

I've really enjoyed Sami Zayn's paranoid, obsessive belief that there is some sort of WWE conspiracy against him. I'm also kind of persuaded that the company has exhibited a prejudice against him for no reason. So that's where this story comes from.

Pairing: Sami Zayn x OFC

Word count: 2,972

Content advisory: smut and a major dereliction of duty by a professional in a position of power

You’ve come to dread visiting this place. It’s not that the neighborhood is so bad, although you always make sure to park your car in the monitored lot rather than on the street, even though it means you have to walk a couple of blocks. You’ve been in worse places.

But it’s started getting to you, these regular appointments that seem to be getting more and more alarming. He’s not well. It’s not your fault and it’s not really your business. You’re just the Health and Safety officer who’s been assigned to meet with him while he’s experiencing what the company calls a “stressful episode”. You’re just there to determine if he’s healthy enough, mentally and physically, to fight every week and to recommend a medical course of action if you think he’s slipping. Lately, though, you get the feeling that everything that you report is getting distilled down to one word: yes. Yes, he’s fit to work, because he understands who he is, what the job entails, and how to do all the moves he needs to so that no one gets hurt. The fact that for the last three weeks you’ve been saying that he needs a break to stave off any problems in the future seems not to have registered with anyone. So every time you come back here and talk about his health, you feel like you’re failing him. Worse, it feels like you’re being dishonest with him.

You step onto the landing at the back of the house where he rents his tiny apartment. He could afford better but, as he’s told you, he likes it here. He needs his money for other things. What things? He doesn’t like to specify. But he’s certain that there’s a time coming when he won’t be earning what he is now, when he doesn’t think he’ll be able to do this kind of work anywhere.

As usual, you knock twice in quick succession and then twice slowly. Yes, you have a secret knock to gain admittance to the home of the man who is officially fine to risk his life and the lives of others in a wrestling ring.

“Come in,” comes the answer from inside.

You squint as you enter the darkened apartment. All the blinds are pulled down and he’s even pushed towels along the window sills so that no light leaks through the bottom. You can make out his figure sitting cross-legged on the floor but that’s about it.

“Lock it behind you, please,” he says, his tone as polite as ever but firm.

You do as he wishes, engaging both locks before turning back to look at him. He reaches over and turns on a lamp that’s sitting near him. It’s not a lot of light but it allows you to see that he looks more or less the same, no visible signs of self-harm or weight loss. His eyes shift rapidly over you, around the room, towards the door, all over the place. They’re feverishly bright, which is never a good sign. Despite his yoga-like pose, he shows little signs of agitation: his fingers tap ceaselessly on his knee, he chews a little on his lip, and he blinks a lot.

There’s a thick, musky aroma to the place, not exactly unpleasant but animalistic, not something that belongs in an urban apartment.

“Hi Sami,” you say, sitting down on the small, uncomfortable sofa in front of him. You place your handbag on the floor and keep your hands flat on your knees where he can see them. You’re not hiding anything.

“Hello.”

“How are you feeling today?”

“I feel wonderful.”

“That’s good.”

He nods vigorously. “I feel like I’m finally putting everything together.”

“How do you mean?” You hate it when he’s like this. On a selfish level, it means that he’s probably going to talk at you for three hours about the conspiracies against him and the enemies he’s made, and you’ll end up stuck in your office until eight or later parsing through your notes, trying to figure out what’s germane to an evaluation of his health.

“Did you see my match?”

“I saw some of it,” you answer guiltily. Wrestling is not your thing and you shouldn’t need to watch the product, which is fictional, in order to understand the very real health of your clients. But with Sami, it’s different. The divide between real and imaginary is fuzzy in his head and that makes it as real as the furniture in this room as far as his mental health is concerned.

“It looked really good.” You try to sound enthusiastic.

“I lost,” he grumbles.

“I know. Has that been hard on you?”

“It’s what I expected. That’s what the people want.”

“What people?”

“The people! The fans. The ‘WWE Universe.’” He waves his hands and smirks as he says those last two words and you do have to admit that it sounds pretty dumb. He sees your lips twitch in amusement and smiles. “All those weird little faces on screens.”

“They weren’t faces on screens last week, though.”

“No, they were real. Or what passes for real.”

“You don’t think those were real people watching you?”

“They were the chosen ones. The ones that the people in charge wanted to be there. It’s not like it used to be. It’s all controlled. Only people they’re certain about get to see what’s going on. You see what they want you to see.”

He’s getting irritable, you can tell, something which always makes you nervous. He’s never gotten violent or threatening with you, not even close. He’s raised his voice and paced around and that’s been stressful enough. He’s not huge like some of the guys he works with but he’s strong and when he gets upset you can see the muscles beneath his skin. If he turned on you, you wouldn’t be able to defend yourself.

What’s truly horrible is that whenever he does start to get riled up, there’s a part of you that feels a little excited by it. It’s the worst thing that you could be thinking about a client, the most hideous betrayal of your ethics. But there’s something about him, all that energy and intelligence, misdirected though it may be.

“That’s what entertainment is, though,” you counter. “The people producing it always control what the audience sees.”

“Entertainment,” he hisses.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that in an insulting way. I know you’re an athlete.”

“No, I am an entertainer. I’m both. But when they say it they mean I’m there for their entertainment. They mean that I’m to do what they tell me. I did this for years and I could come up with my own stories and use my own ideas. I can’t do that anymore. They won’t let me. They’re scared of what I’d do.”

“Has anyone said that to you?”

He laughs mirthlessly. “No one says that to you. No one says anything real, ever. It’s all ‘we think you should do it this way’ or ‘we think this is a good plan for you’. No one tells you what they’re actually thinking. You have to dig it out, you have to look for it behind what they say and then you discover what it is they’re really up to.”

“And what is it that they’re up to as far as you’re concerned?”

He glares at you and leans back a little.

“Why don’t you tell me? You’re the one they’re paying to interrogate me every week.”

“You think this is an interrogation?”

“Isn’t it?”

It’s obvious that this is devolving into childishness. Every time you’re here, it happens at least once but it usually takes you longer to trip up and give him a reason to shut you out.

“I’m sorry, Sami. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was… I want you to be able to trust me, to feel like you can talk to me. Yes, I work for the company but my job, what I trained to do, is keeping people healthy. That’s all I ever wanted to do. Do you believe me?”

“It’s a nice thought. You seem nice.”

You smile, projecting all the warmth and kindness you can muster.

His expression grows suspicious again. “But it’s still them sending you here. Maybe they don’t tell you what to say or what information you’re supposed to be getting from me. Maybe they just figure that they can send this sexy woman over to act like my friend and I’ll forget about everything they’re trying to do to me.”

“I’m not here to be your friend, Sami. I’m here to see if I can help you, professionally. I don’t want you to feel like I’m pretending to be something I’m not.” After a moment’s reflection, you add, “Thank you for the compliment, though.”

He chuckles a little. “Are you allowed to think that?”

“You mean, am I allowed to be complimented that I like hearing you say I’m sexy? I don’t know. But you know I’m flattered by it.”

He can’t deny that. He knows full well that you’ve developed a crush on him. He can see it in the way that you blush when he says nice things about you, and how happy you look when he opens up to you a little. It’s uncomfortable that he knows the power he has over you but it’s also helpful because he talks to you more easily than he would to others. He likes knowing that you’re a bit soft on him.

He leans back, propping himself on his elbows so that his shirt falls away from his chest. You’re used to him appearing with his shirt undone so that you can see a bit of his torso, but this is more of a display than you’re used to. You demurely cross your legs at the ankles and focus on meeting his restless eyes.

“What do they tell you to get from me when you come here?”

“They don’t tell me anything,” you insist. “I’m supposed to come here and determine if you’re able to fight or if you need to have some sort of therapy.”

“You mean like electroshock therapy,” he grunts.

“No, there are lots of different things I’d recommend before that. For instance, like I keep telling you, I wish you’d consider medication to help cope with this paranoia you feel about the company and what they have in mind for you.”

“Paranoia?” he snorts. “What does that mean again?”

“It means you have an unreasonable fear or anxiety regarding something.”

“So what’s the opposite of paranoia?”

“I don’t really know what you’re asking,” you stammer. “I guess it would be not living in fear. Or recognizing a real threat and reacting to it appropriately.”

“But there isn’t a word for that, is there?” he sighs. “Paranoia is an unreasonable fear. But there isn’t a nice, concise word for a reasonable fear.”

“No,” you concede, “I suppose there isn’t.”

“So if I feel like I’m being victimized by WWE, if I feel like they’ve prevented me from rising to the top of the company, you tell me that I’m being paranoid. But there’s no word for what I think if I’m right.”

It gets to you that he’s right. Everything that you’re supposed to be talking to him about is predicated on the idea that he’s imagining things, that he’s wrong about how the company has been treating him.

“I want to help you, Sami. That’s all I want, I swear. That’s what I’m trained for.”

“You’re a very nice person,” he says with an ironic grin. “I mean, you’re the sort of person they don’t give a lot of information to.”

You want to feel insulted by that but it’s also true: you know that your bosses tell you the least they can before they send you out to meet with talent. The real decisions are made well away from you. Making him believe that you can accomplish something for him involves having to convince him that you have some power, but you’re not sure you’re in any position to do that.

Sami leans forward, amber eyes fixed on yours, and places his hands on your knees.

“What do they tell you to do with me?”

“They don’t tell me anything. They just tell me to talk to you. And you shouldn’t be doing that.”

As you’ve spoken, Sami has pushed your legs apart and has started planting kisses along your thighs. He looks up at you with a petulant expression before pushing his face deeper, breathing hot and quick against your panties, licking at them until they’re as wet on the outside as they are on the inside.

Sami, we can’t be doing this,” you pant, crying out as he sucks against the fabric hard, making your clit quiver.

“Why not?” he hums. “You want it. I want it.”

He presses two fingers roughly inside you, stroking that spot inside you that makes you scream and thrash against him, seeking release. Even with your panties still on, just feeling him lick and suck at you through the cotton barrier, you come with a force you can’t remember experiencing ever. He keeps pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy as you continue to spasm around him, trembling for long minutes until you’re too overwhelmed and have to shove his hand away because you’re so sensitive that any contact hurts.

“Think about it,” he whispers, pulling himself on top of you, “They send you here to look at me and make sure that I’m good enough to fight, to make money for them. They send you in here with the idea in your head that I’m being irrational, that I’m imagining things.”

He grips your face in his hands, staring into your eyes as he pulls your panties away and thrusts his cock into you. It’s true what he says, you think as he starts to move, although all thought is quickly supplanted by pleasure, by the feeling of him stroking at your g-spot and grunting softly as he fucks you. You simply lock eyes with him and let yourself be overwhelmed by their earnestness and honesty. No one at your job as ever looked as convinced of anything as he does staring into you as you both come together, yelping and gasping, then shaking and clinging to each other as you come down from your highs.

“Do they listen to anything you tell them about me?” he murmurs, gathering you close to him and caressing your face.

You tilt your head back, moaning a little and exposing your throat to him, an invitation he accepts, sucking hard at the flesh. It’s true that no one pays attention to what you say, least of all about him. And it’s true that there does seem to be some sort of weird block they have against pushing Sami and some others to the heights they deserve. You aren’t ready to tell him that but the look in his eyes when he meets your gaze tells you that he doesn’t have any doubt what you’re thinking.

“What else do you have on your schedule this afternoon?” he whispers.

“You’re my only plan.”

“So spend some time with me.” He pushes his head against yours, thrusting his tongue into your mouth so quickly it takes you a second to adjust and respond, passionately kissing him back, whimpering and moaning to let him know how much you’re enjoying it.

“I’m really not supposed to do this,” you gasp.

“I know there’s a part of you that believes me,” he pants, letting his detumescent prick slide out of your body. “I can tell you don’t think I’m crazy because I think they’re trying to keep me down. Whatever they sent you here to do, I know that all you want is to end up with what’s right. So I say, this is right. Let’s do what we really want and figure other stuff out later.”

“I don’t know. This is a pretty huge breach of conduct for me. Even if I do think you might be onto something.”

He draws a finger lightly along the edge of your bottom lip.

“If you think I’m onto something, maybe you should stay and figure out if you think I’m worth believing.”

Hours later, you’re in his bed, gripping the sheets with all your might. He’s kneeling, hands dug into your hips so hard that you know there will be bruises before he even lets go. He’s pounding into you with the force of a jackhammer, lifting you so that every movement strokes your g-spot until you convulse around him, screaming his name, your orgasm triggering his own.

You can’t remember how many rounds you’ve had. Your body is like one giant pulsing nerve, quivering uncontrollably as he pulls out of you while pressing his thumb firmly against your clit.

“So do you still think I’m crazy?”

You no longer know what you should think of him. Whatever he’s done, you’ve done far worse. So are you even in a position to judge him? Thinking about what your superiors take from your reports, is there any reason to believe that they have a better grip on the situation than he does?

“I think you’re pretty stressed,” you murmur, pulling him close so that you can nuzzle your face against his. “I think that both of us could do with a break from this company.”

The two of you kiss again, passionately, excitedly, gripping each other as if you were the only stable things in the universe.

Professionally, you’ve done something unforgivable. But perhaps it’s something that will be understandable in the long term. Perhaps you’ve chosen to be on the right side.

[m-y-fandoms]

Kazuichi Souda x abused reader one-shot

Request: Hi! Can I request a Kazuichi x abused!reader hurt/comfort fic with the reader written gender-neutral? Preferably with them friends at the beginning and then a love confession. I don't have any dealbreakers/things I don't want in there. Thanks!

Thanks for the submission! Kazuichi can be such a sweetheart when he wants to be….and the sharp teeth...purrr. Anyway, the reader’s gender is neutral, so anyone can read this one with themselves in mind! - Mod Kokichi

Triggers and Warnings: thoughts of suicide briefly mentioned, implied sexual and physical abuse, panic attacks, anxiety, sexual assault discussed. Major Spoilers for Danganronpa 2.

     Kazuichi Souda had always been a close friend of yours. You grew up in the same middle-class neighborhood, going to the same old boring elementary school, then middle school, and eventually you moved into public high school together. He was the closest thing you had to a brother, and you cared about him more than anyone you could think of. He sat with you on the bus, and as you both grew, you instead walked to and from school together. He was funny, dramatic, flirty, talented, and a compassionate friend. He was the only one in your life interested in your hobby of writing poetry, and while he didn’t really get all the figurative language and metaphors and whatnot, being a man who worked with his hands and not his mind, he supported you and read them all anyway. Kazuichi’s support, boosting your confidence, is what got you to start publishing your poems online regularly, and submitting them to small blogs and huge literary magazines alike. You started to gain a small income for your writing, and it was all because of his prescence and care. He was always hanging out with you in his garage or basement as you typed away on your laptop, and you loved being around him. Problems began as you grew closer, though. Problems for you, at least. Kazuichi, for all his great traits and talents, was not one to take hints, and the more you fell in love with your best friend, the worse your mental health got, knowing in the back of your mind that he’d never feel the same way. Of course, what was going on at home didn’t help the situation.

     It seemed that your luck was going to change, when one normal Tuesday, toward the end of sophomore year, you’d gotten word that Hope’s Peak Academy, the best high-school in the country, had a scout looking around your area, which was relatively close to the academy anyway. Within days, both you and Kazuichi had received letters stating that it would be an honor to have you next semester as the incoming Ultimate Poet and Ultimate Mechanic. Of course, you both lost your minds, talking on the phone all night until you abruptly hung up on him in the middle of your sentence. He never asked why, simply thinking your phone cut out, and that he’d see you tomorrow anyway. You came to school late the next day, around lunch time, new scratches under your eye and a bruise on your wrist. When he asked about it, you told him the reason the phone call ended so suddenly was because you’d tripped down your stairs, and the tumble messed up your phone pretty bad, but that you’d have it fixed by tonight! He nodded, accepting the answer and quickly switching to the excitement of starting at Hope’s Peak Academy.

     “They have dorms there for students to stay in, pretty sick, huh?” He tapped your lunch tray with his fork, encouraging you to eat before the bell rang and lunch was over. “Now I can sneak over to your room whenever!” He said a little too seductively, seeing your flustered look. “T-to hang out of course and knock out some noobs in PvP! I’ll bring all of my consoles, no doubt, and I can get back into teaching you how to take apart a car!” You smiled weakly before replying, looking at the food in front of you instead of into his eyes.

     “Yeah...about that. The dorms are optional, and my parents are forcing me to commute.” 

     “Wha?!?!?” Souda’s mouth hung open in one of his usual over-dramatic displays. “No fair! That’s ass! Why the hell not? I bet you’ll be the only student not living on campus!” Way to make them feel better, Souda.

     “Kazuichi, they just don’t feel comfortable with me living away from home before I’m completely self-sufficient and of legal age. Just…let it go, please,” your voice faded out toward the end, and seeing how serious you were, he let it go, content to pout about it later to himself or try to convince you to try and change your parents’ minds later in the week.

     “Can I at least pick you up every morning to bring you on your dumb ass commute to school?” Souda grinned widely after presenting his question. You compromised, letting him have this small victory.

     “Sure, Kazu.”

     But, nothing changed, it seemed, and the new semester quickly came, with you attending Hope’s Peak Academy with the love of your life...er best friend, Kazuichi Souda. He was in almost all of your classes, refusing to pay attention and flirting with random people, a new crush to obsess over each week. Same old Kazuichi, chasing after the object of his interests endlessly, but it never bothered you much. You knew they were always quick infatuations, with him coming on too strongly, getting rejected, and ultimately spending his whole day with you regardless, complaining to you about his rejection, or dishing info of his new crush. You visited his dorm room, with all of the same excuses for not wanting to sit on his bed to play video games, not wanting to stay too late, not explaining in detail where these bruises where coming from.

     Kazuichi, again, wasn’t the most observant guy around. You’d known him since you were both six years old, and he still didn’t know why you’d come to school with puffy red bags under your eyes, why you’d cry at lunch in the bathroom, why you wouldn’t let him high five you or touch shoulders with him on the bus, even though the small seat was a tight squeeze. He always took your excuses at face value, and trusted you, his best bud. It usually went something like this:

Elementary School:

     “Y/N...w-why are you crying?”

     “My pet fish died last night. I really loved him, Kazu…” you sniffled, pulling yourself together.

Middle School:

     “Y/N, where did that bruise come from? Man, that’s a really dark one this time!” He would try to grab your arm and take a closer look, and you’d shrink away.

     “P-please don’t touch it! It’s awfully sore! I fell off my bed this morning, it was a pretty rough fall!” You’d chuckle.

Hope’s Peak Academy:

     “Hey, Y/N, let’s hang out at your place after school, yeah? My dorm room is really dirty and I think there’s a random fire drill today. Such a hassle.” He smirked wickedly, thinking himself so clever.

     “Kazuichi, you’ve known me for like ten years…”

     “Yeah…?” he mused.

     “And you know my parents don’t let me have friends over. Why did you think this would work now, today, all of a sudden?” you feigned anger, huffing before smiling at him.

     “Awww come on, just this once?” He crept up behind you to pounce playfully on your shoulders, and you glided to the side quickly, your back hitting the lockers a little too roughly. Your breath quickened, and he looked at you with wide eyes. “Y/N...geez, are you okay? I wasn’t gonna like take you down in a full- on tackle you know? Just shake you a bit!” He chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck, his sharp teeth showing in that stupid grin you loved.

     “Y-you just surprised me is all,” you steadied your breathing, hoping to avoid an all out panic attack. Come on, get it together, Y/N, you thought to yourself. Not in front of him, anyone but him. “But, anyway,” you moved back to his side, not close enough to touch, of course, “ you know my parents are really strict and extreme germaphobes. They barely want me living there, making a mess,” you laughed nervously, and Kazuichi remained silent, his mind racing. “Kazu…?”

     “Oh, y-yeah! What? Oh, yeah, I know. Your folks sure are nuts, huh? You’d think they’d be like super psyched that you got into Hope’s Peak and be proud of you or some shit, and let you have more freedom..or at least less-strict rules. Man, they are so unreasonable. It’s crazy...”

     He had no idea…

     He walked you home, telling you he would pick you up around six to hang out with a small group of your friends at the local diner, but since he busted his dad’s car trying to improve it, he’d have to let Nekomaru drive. You nodded, telling him you couldn’t wait, before entering your prison for the afternoon. You immediately ran to your room and locked it, not that it ever helped when your dad had a master key, and when he was drunk, even that didn’t even matter. No need for a key when you can just aggressively bust the door open, breaking the lock. You’d asked Kazuichi if he knew how to fix a lock, him of course offering to come over and fix it, but fearing he’d ask too many questions and get too close to the truth, you quickly shut him up and said you’d Youtube a tutorial. You did, and spent your own money on the tools and materials needed to fix it. Even though it didn’t do much to stop your rampaging father, something about the small comfort of having a locked door gave you the hope that maybe one day...maybe one day, he’d figure it was too much work to bother with, and retreat back into his room.

~

     “Dude, why do they hate me so much?” Kazuichi sighed, leaning on the door of Nekomaru’s car and looking angrily out the window. Even if he wasn’t being overly dramatic on purpose, with Nekomaru’s size, he was left squished and forced to lean on the door anyway.

     “HAHA, man, you’re being ridiculous! You know that’s bullshit. Y/N’s known you longer than any of us, and you know they adore you!” Nekomaru laughed, driving a little faster then he should down the suburban street.

     “Well, they don’t ‘adore’ me they way I do them, ya know? Am I ugly? I’m ugly, aren’t I?”

     “I think you’re objectively attractive!” Nekomaru shouted his support.

     “T-then why the hell don’t they like me like that?! Man, I’ve spent years with Y/N, I compliment them, I love reading their poetry, and I don’t even like poetry! I spend all my free time with them! There’s no one I’d rather be around! They even like watching me work on my dad’s dinky ass car! Who wants to watch that?!”

     “Souda...have you even told Y/N that you like them like that?!” Nekomaru smirked.

     “Well...no.” He sheepishly admitted, then gained his indignant tone back, “Hell no! I can’t do that! I mean, I’ve had crushes before, people I’ve wanted to smash or make out with, o-or take out to dinner, but nothing...nothing like this!”

     “You love ‘em? Y/N, I mean,” Nekomaru asked rather quietly, for once, deadly serious. Kazuichi went silent. The silence hung in the air for a few minutes. “I mean, ten years is a long time to know someone, enough time to fall in love…” he trailed off. Kazuichi puffed out his cheeks, ever stubborn, tracing his finger on the window. A good while passed with the two men in silence on the way to your house.

   “A-anyway, they won’t even let me fuckin’ touch ‘em. Ten years, and you know what I’ve got? Maybe one high five, an accidental bump when chilling at my place. I’ve got shit! Always a reason we can’t hug or arm wrestle and…..And! They never let me go to their place! Like, what is that? They say it’s their parents’ rule but like c’mon, ten years? I know that’s a lie. They just don’t want me there. Don’t trust me, or think I’m a creep or annoying or…” He trailed off, getting a little too upset by his own words.

     “Maybe there’s a reason for that... You put too little faith in them, but, anyway, I think you’re overthinking it, pal. I mean, you never know what someone’s feeling until you ask, and you’ve never asked. You think my players just go out on the field with a sprained ankle without telling me, or me askin’ if there’s a reason they are limping? NO! Communication is key to any type of relationship! You’ve known them longer then me, would it really hurt to ask them out?! Or confess your feelings?!

     But he never did, for fear of a rejection more brutal than he could ever handle. He couldn’t risk making things so awkward that you disappeared from his life, and so, you and Kazuichi Souda, two idiots madly in love, remained friends. Friends that never touched.

~

     But then, you woke up to sun in your eyes, blistering heat and humid air soaking through your long sleeve sweater. You sat up quickly, feeling sand trickle down your turtleneck and run through your fingers.

     “What the hell?” Upon standing, fear quickly set in when you took in the sight of some white-haired guy you didn’t know talking to some brunette with a white shirt that you also didn’t know. They turned to you, hearing you stir from your sleep.

     “Ah, you’re up and about!” The white-haired boy smiled gently, his eyes crinkling closed. “We decided to let everyone wake at their own pace before exploring. You were the last one, so that’s why no one else but us is here. This is Hajime Hinata, and I’m Nagito Komaeda, a pleasure to meet you.” He held out his hand, approaching you, but you simply looked at it, pulling your arms into your chest. “Oh, I’m sorry. Not one for introductions, huh?” He put his finger to his lip, looking up slightly with a pensive expression, “ or maybe you’re just a bit shaken up? Hey, that’s fine. I can try to get Usami over here to give you the run-down like she did for the rest of us!” He smiled again, the other boy, Hajime, looking as confused and uncomfortable as you were.

    “Rest of us? How many others? Where are we? I w-was just walking into Hope’s Peak for my first day of class and then I...well I guess I must have passed out. I’m Y/N, by the way.”

     “Ah, Y/N, I think I saw your name on the class roster online! Your poetry was wonderful, by the way. I read a lot of it online. It’s so hope-inspiring. Yep, we’re classmates for sure. And about that whole passing out thing, it’s the same for all of us, we don’t really know what happened,” Nagito continued.

     “All of us? Who? Nagito, who do you keep talking about?” You were growing impatient and scared.

     “The rest of our class,” Hajime spoke up, seeing your frustration, crossing his arms over his chest, “Nagito was about to come with me to meet them all. He apparently did already.”

     Then it clicked.

     “The rest of our class? For the new semester at Hope’s Peak right?” Your heart was going a mile a minute, panic setting in, but a seed of hope planting itself and pushing forth your next words. “Nagito, do you remember all of their names? Was one of them Kazuichi Souda? Pink hair, Ultimate Mechanic?” Nagito nodded plainly. “Take me to him, now...please.”

~

     You sat in your cottage at the hotel resort on Jabberwock Island that night, it’s breezy, calming beach aesthetic making you sick to your stomach. It was all a big fucking lie, a mask to cover the scent of death that lingered around the island and carried itself on the wind. That stupid ass bear decorated the place to look like a tropical paradise, complete with complimentary meals and essentials at an all-you-could-want supermarket, but it all was a ploy, a trick. You’d be a fool to trust anything or anyone but Souda in the coming weeks.

     Speaking of Souda, after Monokuma had thoroughly harassed Usami...or Monomi or whatever, announced the killing game, and sent you all to your cottages with nothing but fear and an electronic tablet, Souda had been in and out of your room, checking on you and venting about his own worries. You two talked for hours, then he’d go and shower, then he’d come back, and you’d get food from the restaurant nearby and bring it back to your cottage to hopefully eat safely together behind your locked door. Souda was usually your rock, but it was no use this time around. He was no knight in shining armor, and could only do so much to cheer you both up. He was nearly pissing his pants in fear of your situation, and you couldn’t blame him.

     Neither of you knew what had happened, or how you’d gotten here, though you tried to recall it all night with him until your brains hurt. There was no memory beyond the first day of school, walking into the entrance hall. There were no classes, no commuting to school, no hang-outs in his dorm, and most importantly, no conversation between him and Nekomaru.

     Days passed and you noticed Souda coming to your room less and less, and being more distant when he did show up. You thought maybe it was just this killing game getting to his head, making him more aloof and prone to spacing out, until you finally exited your cottage alone for the first time one afternoon to join the others at the restaurant at Byakuya’s request. Apparently, there was going to be a meeting. Everyone would be there, so for a killing to occur was highly unlikely, with everyone as a witness.

     You crept into the restaurant, skittish and on edge. Your head was on a swivel all the way there until you saw Kazuichi sitting with everyone else, an entranced look on his face. You knew this look all too well, and followed his gaze to none other than the Ultimate Princess herself, Sonia Nevermind. Oh boy, really Kazu...in the middle of a fucking murder vacation??? Really??? You scoffed, always surprised by this boy you’d known for so long, but you shouldn’t have been at this point. Same old Souda…

     You sat by him, expecting a toothy grin and welcome as always, but he just kept...staring at Sonia as your little meeting was about to start. You were all just waiting on a few more people.

     “Kazu.” You whispered, reaching out to poke him but pulling away at the last second. He didn’t move a muscle. “Kazuichi!” You said a built louder, tapping the table in front of him.

     “Oh! Uh, hey Y/N, what’s up? Sorry I didn’t come over for breakfast. I was uh….distracted,” and just like that his gaze went back to Sonia, practically drooling over her. Fuyuhiko, the little yakuza, and Peko Pekoyama, the master swordswoman were the last to enter, and the meeting commenced.

     Byakuya and Hajime were the main voices of reason and the evident leaders of your pack. Byakuya was planning a party, and he wanted you all there to discuss your plans for escape further and get closer to one another so that hopefully an unkillable bond was formed. You’d all be in the same place, and there would be no weapons or objects that could potentially be dangerous. Teruteru would make the food, Nagito would clean up the place beforehand.

     You could hardly focus on the conversation as your emotions were starting to bubble up. Every single time Sonia suggested an addition to the plan or agreed with someone, Kazuichi spoke up too, supporting her with big sparkling goo goo eyes

     What the hell was this? You seethed, stewing in your seat. He always had new crushes, that was normal, but he usually just watched them intently and staked their social media then confessed way too soon to them and got rejected and told you all about them later on in private when you were inevitably together all day afterw- wait...was this why he wasn’t visiting your cottage as much? Is this why he wasn’t talking to you as much as usual? A stupid crush? What was wrong with him. He never acted this way, not this bad. You were starting to worry...

     You looked at him, your eyes on fire as he continued to faun over Princess Nevermind and her fucking perfect flowing blonde hair and fucking perfect voice and-

     “Alright, you’re all dismissed.” Byakuya wrapped up the meeting, and everyone began to disperse. Kazuichi jumped up, rushing over to ask Miss Sonia if she wanted him to walk her home. You were fuming at that point, finding this whole scene unbelievable, and stomped to your cottage alone.

~

     The next night, Byakuya Togami was murdered at his own party, and Teruteru was fried to a crisp in front of your eyes. You broke down in a full-on panic attack after that first trial, in your locked room alone, having showered and gotten into bed immediately after, deciding to never leave this room again. Kazuichi came knocking the next day, asking if you wanted to explore the new island that Monokuma opened up with him and Sonia, but you coldly refused, almost slamming the door in his face.

     Eventually, you were forced out of your room by Monokuma’s mandatory motive meetings, and Kazuichi always stood by Sonia, saying one or two words to you before you left.

     You curled up in your bed again, alone that night.

     How could this happen? Your own thoughts enshrouded you, swirling around like black smoke of despair. Why is he doing this…? Is he- maybe he’s finally in love for real...no, not Kazuichi. He’s supposed to be mine...my best friend. Does ten years mean nothing to him? How could he do this?! She clearly doesn’t even like him back! Your anger and self-pity was turning into blind rage. It took everything you had to not scream at the top of your lungs and start throwing things. As you began to drift off into sleep, you told yourself that if you didn’t start looking on the bright side, you were going to end up dead, maybe by your own hands.

     Maybe this is just a crush after all, just...this killing game has pushed his emotions into over-drive too! Yeah, that’s it! He’s forcing himself to look on his own bright side, and this little crush is his way of staying sane...but why wouldn’t he just come to you to stay sane? Why couldn’t you be his bright side? You were always his confidant, and him yours….stop! Stop it Y/N, happy thoughts. Your dad can’t get you here. He won’t be sneaking in your room at night. You can sleep soundly...unless a classmate busts in to murder you.

     “Fuck!” You cried out, deciding to stay up the entire night writing poetry on the notepad by your bed. “I’ll get out of this. We will get out of this, me and Kazu. Surely no one is gonna kill again after how rough that first trial was…”

     And then Mahiru died, and then you watched Peko die, and Fuyuhiko was taken away by Monokuma’s little ambulance.

     As you exited the trial grounds this time around, you all walked in a small huddle back to the cottages, your spirits shot, despair taking over. Kazuichi was just close enough to you to get a few words in through the awkward silence.

     “H-hey, that one was pretty rough, huh? Worst then the last. I mean, I actually discovered the body this time...it was traumatizing, you know?”

     “I don’t know, why don’t you go tell Sonia about it!” You spat, rather loudly for the timid friend he knew. The rest of the group mostly ignored you, a few uncomfortable glances in your direction.

     “What do you mean? I’m telling you right now, I can talk to her later,” he chuckled apprehensively, hands in the pockets of his jumpsuit.

     “Why not go tell her now? What, did she finally tell you to fuck off, so you’re falling back on your back-up mode of getting attention?!” Arriving at the entrance of the resort, your group stepped through. The all could feel the awkwardness in the air, but none more then Sonia, her name being mentioned more than once.

     “Y/N, w-where is this coming from?” Kazuichi’s eyes widened at your harsh words.

     “I know you’re not fucking serious! It’s Sonia, Sonia, Sonia all day every day but now you wanna talk to me? Oh gee, thanks! After ten fucking years I’m glad you’ve decided I earned this conversation. I’m honored!” The group looked toward you two, keeping their distance, some of them sweating, some chuckling at Souda’s expense

     “Looks like the idiot grease monkey messed up big time,” Hiyoko giggled behind her kimono sleeve with an evil smile before Hajime urged the others to just mind their business and head to their rooms. Surprisingly, they all listened, too sad and tired to argue or grab their popcorn to watch this entertaining display. You two were left alone there, Kazuichi completely frozen with pure terror.

     “Y/N, I-“

     “Fuck you, Kazuichi! We’re being murdered one by one, and you drop me for a fucking infatuation over some Barbie?!” You knew you shouldn’t be blaming Sonia at all or bringing her into this with insults, but you were so infuriated that you’d have to let the guilt sink in later and apologize to her. He tried to approach you, reaching out. “Don’t fucking touch me! Don’t even look at me! From now on, I’m looking out for only myself! You leave me alone, you hear? Sonia can be your one and only! You saw how Fuyuhiko felt about losing Peko, his closest friend? Well...I was hoping that wouldn’t have to be us…” you let him fill in the rest of your sentence in his imagination, as your voice faltered, tears springing up.

     “Y/N, don’t cry...please.”

     “Goodnight Kazuichi,” and you walked swiftly past him, slamming the door to your cottage.

     The next night, Kazuichi and the others visited Fuyuhiko in the hospital on the new island while you stayed in your room, but Souda lingered after everyone left, hoping to get some alone time with the injured yakuza. He told Fuyuhiko of his situation with you from the beginning: the bruises, not letting him come over, shrinking away fron any and all touch, his love for you, his feeling of imminent rejection every time he thought about confessing. To his surprise, Fuyuhiko, having lost the bite in his voice along with Peko, merely listened, then, being more intuitive and aware of obvious signs, told Kazucihi that you were most likely being abused at home, and didn’t want him to know. Kazuichi felt like his soul left his body...what? How could he have missed this?

     Fuyuhiko had seen it a lot growing up, the fellow sons of other yakuza members getting beat on by their aggressive dads, the daughters being touched inappropriately by other members or rival clans, the aftermath, the behaviors. He spoke his piece, his advice, and after a long man-to-man talk...one full of Fuyuhiko’s regrets, of Peko’s dutiful ignorance of her own feelings, and a lifetime of friendship that yearned to be maybe just a bit more, Kazuichi knew what he had to do.

~

     A knock on your door that night startled you from your nap. You ignored it. The knock came again, much louder, more desperate this time.

     “Monokuma didn’t say there was a new motive and I already ate dinner, so leave me alone!” You yelled to whoever it was, assuming it may be Hajime asking for another meeting for yet another faulty escape plan.

     “It’s...it’s me,” his voice cracked. Your face heated up, in anger or sadness, you didn’t know…

     “Go away!”

     “Please. Please, Y/N...just this once. I need to talk to you. I need to.” You stood up, walking to the door and placing your weary head against it to hear him better.

     “I don’t want to talk. You’re making this harder on us both. Let’s just make this a clean break, that way, if one of us dies, it won’t hurt as much.”

     “Are you fucking serious? Won’t hurt as much? Are you crazy?! Losing you would be the worst thing that ever happened to me!” Your eyes widened, tears threatening to fall, “I don’t…” he calmed himself, a bit embarrassed of how much his voice wavered. “I don’t want a clean break and neither do you so open up, or I’ll sit here all night.”

     “You idiot! You can’t! You’re a sitting duck outside alone at night.” Why did you care? You’d chosen to end your friendship.

     “Then...then I guess I’ll just wait to be murdered. I’m not moving. I mean, I’m scared. I don’t wanna die, but-“ the door swung open, Kazuichi suddenly face to face with your sleep deprived eyes. He nodded, walking in and sitting on your bed. You closed the door and locked it, standing against the door in a very defensive stance. “Please, come sit.”

     “No.”

     “Please!” You saw fresh tears sting his eyes now, and you gave in, sitting a few feet apart on your bed and refusing to make eye contact.

     “What do you want?”

“I think you know what I want.” He spoke rather confidently for his current emotional state. Your heart skipped a beat and you sat there silently. He continued. “Why did you never let me come to your house?” What? Why was he bringing this up now?

     “What do you mean? This is what you wanted to talk abo-“

     “Just answer me!”

     “I told you many times, my parents were strict and-“

     “That’s a lie. What were all the bruises from? The random scratches and bandaids popping up randomly?”

     “Kazuichi, don’t-“ you were starting to breath heavy, fearing your blissfully oblivious friend was finally catching on to your dark secrets.

     “Why won’t you let me touch you? Ten years, and I couldn’t hug the person I...my best friend...I couldn’t even touch you! Why is that?!” He was so furious, more at your father for hurting you than you for hiding this from him when he could’ve stepped in and helped. The usual up-and-down tonation, the random cracks and stutters when he was nervous, were nowhere to be found.

     “Kazu, PLEASE-”

     “It’s because your dad was touching you, right?! And you didn’t want anyone to know!” He spat, and you collapsed forward into his arms, sobbing freely into his chest. He froze at the contact at first, completely in shock. You sniveled and drooled into his chest, barely breathing, you were shaking so hard. Slowly, his arms closed in on you, wrapped around tightly, and you let him, as he leaned back until you were laying on his chest face-down, soaking his jumpsuit and undershirt.

     “Y/N…just breathe.” After a few moments he spoke, letting your sobs die down into little whimpers. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

     “I was humiliated. I was scared. I didn’t want you to look at me differently, like I was pitiful or tainted.”

     “That’s insane and you know it. I would never judge you for something your fucked up dad forced on you. Was he hit hitting you too or just…”

     “Yes...all the time.”

     “I could’ve gotten you out of there, into a shelter or living with me. My parents aren’t the best but they’d understand-“

     “I didn’t want you to deal with that. I didn’t want you to know any of it.”

     “Deal with that? What, you? Deal with you? Y/N…” he trailed off, scared when that old friend, rejection sat in back of his mind.

     “What, Kazu?” you needed to hear it. Your life depended on it at this point.

     “I...I love you. It’s not ‘dealing’. I want to help you, I want to love you. I’ve wanted to touch you, like this…” Your heart rate, finally having calmed down from your tantrum, started up again.

     “Kazu…”

     “I’m sorry I didn’t know. I should’ve known, but I chose to be oblivious and mess around with our friendship like an idiot.”

     “Stop, Kazuichi. None of what happened to me was your fault. I won’t allow you to think otherwise. Don’t you dare.”

     “I could’ve stopped it, though.”

     “That’s in the past now...and to be honest, it feels...good.”

     “Good?” He was immensely confused by how any of this could be considered good.

     “A relief, I mean...Kazu, no one knew. Nobody knew about it. I wanted to tell you. For so long I’ve wanted to, and to tell you that, I love you too.” He pulled you both into a sitting position, wanting to see your eyes and make sure you were for real. “It feels less painful, now that you know the truth. It still hurts, what my dad did will always leave scars on my heart and body but-” Kazuichi let all of his fears blow away in the wind, leaning down and gently pressing his lips into yours. Tears ran down your face as you closed your eyes and let yourself be absorbed by his love. He pulled away, allowing you to finish your thought:

“- I’m not afraid anymore.”

[agdistis-sanctified]

Hey do you have any panels of Deadpool (2012) #24]?

I honestly have an embarrassing number of panels from almost every issue in the Duggan run saved, and that’s one of my (many) favored issues. Here’s some of what I have on hand + dumb comments. ENJOY.

“I know what I’m doing,” he says as he crashes.

Preston: There are some things I want to talk to you about.

Wade: Uh-oh. My "uncomfortable chat sense" is tingling.

Preston: First, I'm worried about you being alone. I think you need someone to talk to.

1. I love the way Mike Hawthorne draws Deadpool. This is the default “Deadpool” look for me. When I picture Deadpool in my head, I usually picture the Hawthorne expressions and body language even though this technically wasn’t even the first Deadpool run I started. Duggan/Posehn/Hawthorne made this man real for me first.

2. Butler treated Wade like his broken, dangerous pet that needed a handler to be worth anything and to be safe for others, like something unreasonable and volatile and unable to think for itself, and Wade internalized all of it.

"Look, Preston, I'll always be grateful for helping me out. We made a good team, but when you're out of my head, it's over. And it ain't because I don't like you..."

emotional support lingerie 

The time finally comes to get Preston out of his body and into an LMD. Wade struggles with the all-too-familiar feeling of being hooked up to things on a table in front of scientists, but muscles through both that and his fear of being alone again for Preston (+butt comment to distract himself)--

Going into Wade’s head--I didn’t notice that tacked-on Doctor Strange painting in the background until my most recent reread and I have to comment on it: So of course this is issue #24, and the reader finds out that Deadpool killed his own parents in #30. Deadpool himself notices the painting and comments on it a few issues after that. The 2012 series ends at issue #45, and then Wade finally finds out that he killed his own parents and that Doctor Strange helped him re-suppress the memories (repeatedly) in #11 of the 2015 series. That means this foreshadowing is over 30 issues early; it’s a subtle detail consistent to something the reader doesn’t actually know for years. This creative team went the extra mile.

big “this is fine” energy

(as Wade’s head gets chaotic) Classic New Mutants/X-Force Deadpool!

“I said I would not abandon you, and I meant what I said.” Strange is so good and so underrated as an intuitive, supportive friend.

1. X-Men Origins: Wolverine laser eyes, lmao 2. The biggest trope of the Duggan run is probably Deadpool hurting himself to protect his loved ones. I think this might be the first (but certainly not the last) time Deadpool says something like this explicitly in this run.

I love their friendship and I ache over it.

We also meet “Zenpool” earlier than necessary! Which helps triple-affirm that Deadpool is still Deadpool under the Axis spell.

Good panel-work </3 And an ambiguous moment that ramps up Deadpool’s anxiety about Preston’s well-being going forward.

(Preston wakes up after being successfully moved to the LMD body)

Coulson: Never took Deadpool to be the kind of guy to run from something.

Michael: This was too much for him.

Strange: I agree with Michael. You cannot blame him for leaving. He's lost so much. [...] (to Preston) I think he was embarrassed that he may have harmed you in any way.

Michael: Don't take it personally that he's not here. You know, he just like, has to work this out by himself.

Already pushed to a breaking point by Butler/North Korea, at least 75%-convinced that Preston is dead but in denial, and grieving the loss of Preston’s presence in his own life either way, Deadpool starts hallucinating.

I hope I had something you were looking for!!

[nightsoulsworld]

Hello! I was wondering if you’re up for a matchup. Also, don’t stress yourself if you don’t feel like doing it right this second, it’s all cool. (I’m currently procrastinating writing a few of my own requests, lol.)

If it’s not too much work, I’d like a sort of best-friend matchup if that makes sense.

Okay… I’m a 5’1” non-binary asexual lesbian, and my name is Rue. I’m not out to my family yet because I don’t want to risk them being unsupportive or even being thrown out.

I also deal with anxiety, an ed, and I have an inkling there may be some depression too. I go to counseling for it, which helps.

I first come off as cold, socially aloof, or a bit angry because of my massive RBF, but I’m actually severely self-conscious and caring, especially when it comes to my friends. When it comes to my friends, I’ll do anything in my power to help them. I’m typically the mom friend, but when the time calls for it I can give good advice. I’ve also realized that I can be slightly over-protective of my friends, but only in my mind if that makes any sense. When I see a friend interacting with someone that’s hurt them I get the urge to take them away right now and let the other person know they’re not allowed near them, but I also tell myself that my friend deserves a chance to stand up for themself and that if they need any help they know I’m there.

I have a strict moral code as well. If someone needs help, I do my best to offer it. Honestly, sometimes it’s a flaw. It’s how I got into an abusive friendship with a narcissist. Along with that, I have an intense fear of being seen as dumb or foolish. It’s bad. I won’t ask for something if there’s the slightest chance I’ll be rejected for it, even if there’s no consequences. I’d rather suffer than be “humiliated” in my eyes.

Going off of that, I take work extremely seriously. If someone expects something of me, I’m doing it, and I’m doing it as best as I can. My essays are always super long and proof-read multiple times, and I’d rather check my work than go to sleep, even when it reaches one in the morning.

School wise, I’m very smart. I get all A’s, and am an all-around good student. I’m also part of my school’s marching band (and concert band, and jazz band, and pep band, anything band related lol) and serve as a field commander with my best friend. I’ve been doing a good job so far, though we aren’t that far into the season yet. (I play the clarinet, oboe, and piano.)

Aside from how serious and responsible that makes me seem, however, I love to joke around. My sense of humor is very fluid, so I mainly laugh at anything. If I had to pick a favorite, though, I’d say a sort of “light-hearted sarcasm”. It’s the main part of my relationship with my dad, and I love it when we can bounce jokes off of each other.

When push comes to shove, I can also be very blunt and stubborn when I need to stand up for myself, though it took years to realize. It’s part of what I’ve learned from the shitty friend I mentioned earlier: stand up for yourself and your boundaries. You’re not being mean for it, and you’re not being unreasonable. This part of me only really comes out in super dire situations, however.

And oh my god, don’t even get me started on music. I can’t function without it. I love almost every type of music, though I tend to notice my favorites are super emotional and angry pieces or very laid-back pieces. (Exs. “good 4 u” and “Sunflower”.)

I’m super quiet, and only really say anything if there’s a point, but I love listening to conversations. This usually means I end up feeling a little left-out though, because it also means people notice I’m there less.

I can also be a bit of a geek about the things I’m interested in. For example, I read the Mistborn trilogy in January and I’ve been obsessed with the cosmere (basically the fandom for all of the author’s works) ever since. I lent the books to my best friend and we’ve been geeking out ever since. She even made me a mistcloak, and I’m planning on getting some overalls for a small cosplay.

When I go to college, I plan to major in biology, specifically ecology if I can. I’ve always been interested in nature and the way everything fits together. My dream job would be working with endangered species and helping with conservation efforts.

I also dress slightly punk-ish. I don’t really call myself punk or emo or anything like that because I’m not super into the music, but I wear my combat boots and platform shoes a lot, along with chokers and a lot of black. It blends with some academia as well sometimes; I have this tan turtleneck that I love with my whole heart, and I’d love to have a sweater that I can pair with a white button-up or a casual blazer.

Anyway, this is long enough already. Thank you!

Hey, thanks for asking ♥️. I was happy to read your description. Sorry if it isn't good best friend match up, if your don't like it, message me anytime 💜.

Here we go

Incarnation : 2012

🤔I think I'd paired you with...🤔

Donatello Hamato

I think that Donnie would be the perfect for you

From the first moment you two get along very well and he's very happy that he get chance to meet you

You surprised him with your wisdom and this is what got him on his knees

April? Which April? Idk any April O'Niel

He immediately forgot about her, his only love is you, dear ♥️

He loves your style and he likes about you how you take work seriously like him

That's why he always asks you on your opinion ; your wise voice is for him very important

This nerd loves your playing on piano, the clarinet and oboe and he asks you if you can't play him something while he's working on his new project

He likes your sence of humor and he's laughing out loud when you tell him some of your jokes

You two are buddies that they can talk about hours and hours about the things that you both are passionate and interested in

We all know that this nerdy boi is always working hard in his lab 24/7 without sleep so obviously he don't have a chance to listen his favorite songs so that's why he's always asking on your fav songs and he's happy to listen to them aany chance he get

He appreciates that you're on quiet side, he likes little quiet space in his life full of fight and annoying brothers

So when you're in his lab and you just sitting there doing your homeworks or listening to music, he's glad

Your presence is everything to him

He loves you so much, you are his buddy, his love forever ♥️💖

I hope you like your match 💜💜