#I’ll get character profiles done too I promise

[buckets-and-trees]

First Night

I promised two anniversary fics this weekend, and it's still "this weekend" in a couple of time zones...

Series: The Brooklyn Boys Characters/Pairings: Stucky x female!Reader Word Count: 2.3k Summary: Takes place immediately after the events of the final part 10 Steve and the Best Friend. Dinner and a movie and...

Content Warnings: fluff, feelings, soft semi-retired superheroes

Additional Notes: Filling my ninth square for Bucky Barnes Bingo @buckybarnesbingo - U1 "Galaxy" and is the much spoken of (by me) PROMISED ANNIVERSARY EPISODE TO CELEBRATE POSTING PART ONE FOR THIS SERIES A YEAR AGO! These boys meant a lot to me back then and writing for them again to celebrate this with all of you has been a dream.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

Bucky kisses the back of your hand, then stands from the couch, checking his watch. “Dinner’s about ready. I’ll go finish it off.”

As he leaves the living room, Steve scoots a little closer. He pulls you into a short kiss, then rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed, and you breathe in the moment.

“I know it’s so predictable to ask you about your day,” he says, “but I’ve been waiting for weeks to just have these everyday conversations with you.”

You smile, though you know he can’t see it. You’re sure he can feel it because you can feel it coming from him, too.

“When we went to dinner that night, I thought that was going to be the beginning of so many days like that, seeing you, texting with you, just sharing everything with you.

Your heart stutters and leaps, “I wanted that, too. I’m sorry it wasn’t–”

He stops you with another gentle press of his lips to yours and cups your cheek. “No, I didn’t mean to bring it up to make you feel guilty. Tony would say if you want to make an omelet, you have to break some eggs. I think we’re coming through for the better.”

In the time that you’ve spent with Steve, you’ve become aware of how influential and powerful his mood is in any situation, and right now he’s feeling a contentment that really does envelop you.

So you sit back a little in the armchair, but take his hand, and start talking. He holds your hand in both of his, idle stroking of the back of your hand with his thumb as he listens. You talk about the bookshop. Bucky has become a regular, but Steve hasn’t been in yet. You’re eager to share that with him soon, too. You tell him about an upcoming book launch event you solidified today with a local author – it’s their debut novel, but they’ve been a frequent friend of your shop for a few years. “Oh,” you suddenly remember to ask, “you mentioned before that you were getting a lot of chatter about some things happening in Turkey. Is that where you and Bucky went?”

“Yeah.” He grins, probably pleased that you remembered. “Turkey was… interesting.”

“I’ve wanted to go to Turkey! Mission stuff aside because I know that’s probably classified, did you get to experience anything?”

“Not too much, but we did get to see a little of Istanbul. It was beautiful.” He tilts his head a little. “I… would like to go back and see more.”

You plant your elbow on the armrest of your chair and prop your chin on the hand Steve’s not holding. “Steve, have you even been on a vacation?”

He shakes his head. “Only day trips or weekends once or twice upstate when I was a kid. We kept on the move and covered a lot of territory when we didn’t agree to the Sokovia Accords, but that was survival and trying to be of use while keeping a low profile, not traveling. And during The Blip, it never even crossed my mind.”

You squeeze his hand.

“We should go.”

“I’ve never done as much traveling as I wanted either. Couldn’t afford it when I was starting out, then… yeah, The Blip, and since the Second Snap, it’s been busy, but now…”

“Now maybe we have even more reason to make it something to prioritize.”

Butterflies flare in your stomach when he smiles at you like that. Your chest gets that happy tightness. This was why you said yes to them.

“So, Turkey,” you say, a little breathlessly.

“I’ll put it on the list.”

You’re melting.

“Dinner is almost ready!” Bucky’s voice calls from the kitchen. “Steve, come set the table!”

“France should probably go near the top of the list.”

Steve nods in agreement and pulls you up as he stands. He keeps your hand in his as he walks both of you into the kitchen.

“Bucky won’t let us eat in the kitchen, not even at the stools at the counter,”

“Damn right I won’t!” he says, already catching your conversation. “The French wouldn’t hear of it, and I worked hard enough for us to eat at the altar of a proper table.”

“Everything smells incredible,” you gush when you enter their beautiful kitchen. Every part of the brownstone you’ve seen so far is beautiful.

Bucky turns and flashes a devastating grin before turning back to his prep. “Glad you think so.”

Steve brings you to a stop right next to Bucky, who is fully occupied whisking egg yolks one at a time into a custard on the stove, a separate pan with melted chocolate set off to the side. You lean your hip against the counter so you can watch.

Standing behind him, Steve puts a hand on Bucky’s shoulder on the other side and leans over the stove to stick his finger in the chocolate, getting his taste before Bucky can stop him.

“Rogers!” Bucky growls.

You laugh, and Steve grins wickedly.

“It’s good.”

“Get to setting the table. Food’s already set, just going to finish this off and put it in the oven.”

“And pour the wine?”

“We’ve got a Syrah, right? Or any Bordeaux blend.”

“I’ll look and see.”

“Can I help?” you ask.

They both immediately frown at you. “You’re not lifting a finger the first dinner you’re eating here with us,” Bucky says adamantly.

You hold your hands up quickly in surrender. “Understood,” you laugh.

“Good girl,” Steve says, his smile immediately returning. “I’ll go sort out the wine.”

He squeezes Bucky’s shoulder before he leaves the kitchen.

It hits you out of nowhere. There’s a short constriction in your chest at seeing how easy that casual intimate gesture was between them. They’ve known each other for years and years longer than they’ve known you. You’re nowhere near close to that ease and familiarity with them yet. Will this work?

“Come here,” Bucky invites you in closer, and as you step forward, he tucks an arm around you and pulls you securely into his side while he continues whisking with his other hand. Did your insecurity show on your face? Did he merely suspect it? Or maybe he just wanted to hold you for no other reason than wanting to. Whatever the reason, it does soothe away that doubt that had tried to creep in. He presses a kiss to your temple. “I missed you. I don’t know if I would’ve been patient enough to wait much longer. Steve was adamant we had to wait for you to set the timing though.”

Your chest blooms with warmth. You’re glad they did wait – you had needed the time to think and sort out your heart so you could feel secure jumping all in – but it also made you feel good to know he’d been eager. You circle your arms around his waist and look up at him. “Thank you.” You could say more, but you think he knows. His eyes and a squeeze of his arm around you say that he does.  “Kiss me?”

“Always,” and he does. It’s a swift kiss because he is in the middle of the complexities of whatever he’s cooking, but he makes sure even the short kiss takes your breath away.

You only just manage not to whimper when he draws his lips away. Instead, you content yourself with resting your head against his chest. “Now what is it you’re making?”

“The boeuf bourguignon was easy to finish off, and I had decided something decadent for dessert was in order. Chocolate soufflé.”

“Damn, Barnes, you know how to impress a girl.”

He laughs. “Honey, get ready for a lot more of this.”

Your stomach flips, but he doesn't leave you flustered for long, diving into normal conversation while he continued working, Steve coming in and out of the kitchen to set the table. Bucky allows you to assist him as sous chef for only a moment, letting you to open the oven door when he was ready to carefully put the chocolate delicacy in to bake.

Then the three of you sit down to dinner, and it wasn’t an oversell to say it is one of the best meals of your life. The food is incredible, and simply being there with the two of them with the conversation, the laughter, the way they look at you, the way they look at each other, all of it is bliss. That bliss bleeds into Bucky taking the chocolate soufflé out of the oven and the three of you devouring the rich masterpiece. Then you settle in to watch a movie together, you tucked between them.

When you wake up, you are no longer tucked between your super soldiers, but instead tucked beneath a set of soft sheets and blanket that are unfamiliar to you, your head rests on a comfortable but foreign pillow, and your body feels the awkwardness of having slept in your jeans and button-down blouse. The latter wasn’t awful, but never ideal. Why were you asleep in your day clothes? You shift and yawn and sink a little more into the pillows and mattress, appreciating how cozy they are but wondering where exactly you were. You rewind your memory and start to recall a few of the last details in your mind – leaning up against Bucky’s side, Steve pulling your legs up across his lap and giving you a foot massage while the opening scenes of a movie played out.

They had let you choose the movie, and you’d gone with The Count of Monte Cristo, one of your favorites, but now you weren’t certain you’d even made it to the Chateau D’If with poor Edmond Dantes before falling asleep. Actually, you were pretty sure it was that soothing foot massage that had you lost to the land of the waking. You do have a vague half recollection of being scooped up from the couch into someone’s arms, but that was it.

It's clearly what landed you here.

You roll onto your back and smile. The ceiling is littered with carefully mapped out constellations, a glow in the dark replication of the galaxy. Adorable nerd, you think, and with a look around the room, the shelf full of books that covers an entire wall of the room and a neatly stacked pile of three books on the bedside table let you know you must be in Bucky’s bed. There is a low level of moonlight casting a glow across the room from the windows, and you remember the distinct thought you’d had about wanting to see how this man kept his books and what else was in his collection, but that would need to wait for daylight. You never would have dreamed this was how things would have played out all those weeks ago.

A little more alert, your throat feels a little dry, and knowing once the thought has crossed your mind you wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep without a drink of water, and it was clearly too late to go home (or late enough to absolutely justify staying in this very cozy place for the rest of the night and seeing your boys in the morning), you pull back the covers and shift out of bed. Sitting at the foot of the mattress you see a pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt that are clearly meant for you, and a huge sleepy smile splits across your face. You discard your clothes, feeling immediately comfortable in the alternative – which smell like Steve.

Bucky’s bed but Steve’s clothes.

Your head spins happily as you pad quietly into the hallway and make your way to the kitchen.

Once properly watered, you make your way back to the bedrooms, carefully bringing the partially-refilled glass with you just in case you get thirsty again. It is so quiet in their home, but comfortably so. You will get to see more in the daylight, but you love how it feels already. You pause at the doorway to Bucky’s room, bite your lip, and turn to look across the hallway at another bedroom door.

You don't want to sleep alone in Bucky’s room when they are together in Steve’s.

Heart pounding just a little, you step across the hallway and slowly turn the doorknob, trying to open the door as quietly as you can. You step inside, but then stop and look around. This was an unoccupied bedroom – it had a bed, but that bed was empty, and this room didn’t seem to have much to it. It was a guest bedroom. A little bloom shoots through your heart at the thought that while they had wanted to give you every bit of privacy – leaving you clothed, giving you a bed to yourself – it felt intimate in its own way to know that they’d tucked you in in Bucky’s room, not the guest bedroom.

Not at all nervous now, you step back into the hallway, close that door, and make your way further down the hall, eager to find where these two impossibly wonderful men were slumbering and join them. The next door on the left was a bathroom, but the door on the right is Steve’s. Bucky is asleep, but Steve is sitting up against the headboard and had been engrossed in scrolling in something on his phone, earbuds in, but looks up when your movement pulls his attention. He grins and pulls the buds out, “Hi, Sweetheart.”

“Hi,” you breath, padding toward his side of the bed.

He nudges Bucky as you make your way over. Bucky groans.

“Told you our girl would make her way to us before sunrise,” Steve says to him, and that seems to bring Bucky around slightly.

Steve sets his phone on his bedside table, takes the glass from your hand to set it there as well, and pulls back the covers so you can hop up and crawl in and join them. Bucky immediately pulls you in to his chest, kissing the top of your head. You sigh as Steve closes in behind you, and between your two super soldiers, you quickly drift back to sleep, held safely in their arms.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[dioles-writes]

• OC BLORB: SLIPPING THROUGH MY FINGERS •

Masterlist | Characters: Reagan (she/her), Felix (he/him)

Credits to @jiphenn as the story belongs to her!

“Felix?”

Reagan hesitated at her brother’s door, body leaned up against the frame. He was sprawled out on his bed, homework strewn across the messy sheets - although the pages were practically blank, his phone at his ear instead as he grinned at whatever the person on the other line was saying.

“Yeah, one sec.” He said into the phone, glancing up to her with an irritated look.

She seemed to be getting that look a lot these days.

Ever since school started it was like Felix couldn’t stand to sitting in the same room as her. Although it was barely even November yet, he had already gotten into probably what was hundreds of fights. It seemed like he couldn’t keep himself from getting into trouble for more than a day, with the amount of calls from the school she had been getting. The beginning of the year had been brutal. Every single day there was some sort of fist fight Felix had gotten himself into, leading to multiple detention slips and trips to the nurse’s office. His face had practically become permanently swollen. Not to mention his behaviour change at home. He was more standoffish and argumentative. They’d gotten into more fights themselves just the past few months alone than they had in the entire year. It was like he was an entirely new person.

Reagan had done her best to write it off as stress from the new school year, especially because this was his first time at Diantha Rose, but deep down she knew that wasn’t it.

Felix told her pretty much everything. The kids in his classes, stupid fights that he’d won, his new girlfriends and boyfriends, drama at school, or even supposedly cruel teachers that were, in his words, “totally unfair and just jealous of my pure talent”. She couldn’t remember a time when they hadn’t shared everything with each other. But now, ever since school started, it felt like pulling teeth, trying to get Felix to talk to her.

He’d suddenly just pulled away; he spent his nights after school holed up in his room, doing who knows what, his voice muffled through the door as he laughed with his friends. Not like before - where he’d swing into the kitchen with a grin, plopping his backpack down on the table with a thump before stealing a pastry from the rack, fresh. He’d laugh as she swatted his hands away, shoving it into his mouth and going on to tell her all about his day.

He just seemed so much… colder now. It was as if there were a million miles separating the two of them; like they were apart of entirely different worlds.

“Well?” Felix’s voice came abruptly, pulling Reagan from her spiralling thoughts. He cocked an eyebrow at her, impatient. “What is it?”

Reagan sat down on the edge of his bed, patting her knees hesitantly. “Can I talk to you? It’ll only take a second, I promise.” She gave him a small smile. “Don’t worry, I won’t keep you from your friends for too long.”

Felix rolled his eyes before turning back to his phone. “I’ll be right back.” He said with a huff of very obvious annoyance before tossing his phone down on his sheets.

His screen flashed up at her: The profile picture of a boy with fluffy peanut-coloured hair, fair skin, pastel purple-and-mint green eyes, and a wide smile, his face adorned with beauty marks.

July Roberts.

It seemed all the problems they had been having started with him. Ever since Felix had become friends with the mysterious Board Game Club leader, everything had fallen apart.

At first, Reagan had been over the moon, hearing Felix was finally starting to make friends.

He’d always been shut off from the idea. Sure, he kept a few people around him at school to keep him company, but it was never a real friendship. He never went to sleepovers, or parties, or hung out with anyone outside of school. For as long as she could remember, he’d just been so lonely. Reagan would have done anything to get him to be a regular kid, to just go out and have fun. All she had ever wanted was for him to finally experience the world in the way she was never able to.

Now he was finally going out. He even had a whole new group of friends. The Board Game Club. He could barely be seen at home, always running out with one of his newfound friends, off doing whatever it was they did. He even started going to actual sleepovers. For all of Reagan’s prays and pleading over the years, he seemed to be fitting in, finally allowing himself to enjoy this school.

That fact should’ve been enough to ease her worries, but Reagan could never stop herself from stressing herself half to death. Something just felt so utterly wrong about the whole Board Game Club situation. Coming from a kid who had only made two friends in the past eleven years, one of them who Reagan wasn’t even sure properly liked him, it was a goddamned miracle. And in such a short amount of time, too. Reagan was happy for him, of course she was. She’d always be happy if he was happy. But something wasn’t right about it. The Board Game Club members being sort of strange themselves wasn’t helping her suspicions, she was sure. Especially after finding out one of them was a Diole.

It was just a coincidence. Had to be a coincidence. Dioles existed, he was going to end up meeting them. The fact that the two of them had become friends was nothing more than a coincidence. She wouldn’t allow it to be anything more than that. There was no reason for her to worry about it.

Still…

Reagan sighed. She was getting too wrapped up in her thoughts again, allowing herself to get pulled away, distracted from the real reason she had come in here in the first place. She turned her attention back onto Felix.

“You’ve been using your powers?” She asked after a long pause, praying this question was in safe territory, that it wouldn’t result in another blowup where she inevitably would lose her temper and say all the wrong things to him.

Felix’s eyes flickered away from her face, as he suddenly became very interested with a loose thread on his blanket, expression turning from bored to uncomfortable. Before she had even asked the question, she knew that would happen. Anything to do with Dioles made him fidgety, especially any mention of his powers. It was a fact Reagan knew deep down, she was at fault for, with all her worrying about him getting caught or exposed. She knew she probably only made it worse for him, terrifying him to even dare use his powers, but a part of her was relieved he was so scared. Fear meant safety. If he didn’t use his powers, he couldn’t get caught. If he didn’t use his powers, she couldn’t lose him.

But now, a new emotion lingered in his eyes. Something that was akin to… shame. “A little,” he grunted, still refusing to look up. “Only sometimes.”

Felix’s look of absolute crushing guilt wasn’t helping Reagan to feel any better. Neither was his refusal to meet her gaze.

“Why’s that?” She pressed, trying to keep her tone light. Anything to keep him from exploding on her. She gave him a gentle smile, allowing him to go on, despite her urge to yell and demand him to tell her why he’d been acting so strange lately.

“Dunno.” He mumbled, running his fingertips along the wrinkles of the blanket, enraptured. “Just felt like it.”

It didn’t take a genius to see that was a lie. One thing Reagan could always count on was how terrible of a liar Felix was. Sometimes she wondered how the two of them hadn’t been caught yet, because her brother couldn’t tell a lie to save his life. He had just about a million tells: the way his posture had gone stiff, his fidgeting hands he just couldn’t seem to keep still, his refusal to look her in the eye. There was something else he was hiding.

Reagan hummed. “That’s it?”

Felix gave her a little scoff of protest, turning towards her, his eyes flickering vaguely in her direction. “I don’t know, Rea,” He said. “I haven’t been as scared of them anymore. I like using them.”

Reagan scanned his face. There seemed to be some truth to it, she thought. But he was so obviously hiding something from her. The secret he refused to blurt hung between them, turning the air thick, making it almost unbearable. The silence stretched on, the two siblings stuck in a game of seeing who would break it first, Reagan’s eyes fixed onto Felix, while the boy stared down at an empty spot on his floor instead.

“Okay.” Reagan finally broke the tense silence, forcing herself to smile again. The idea of Felix using his powers more just about terrified her to death - it was just another way he could get caught, another way he could get hurt - but she forced herself to keep all of her worries to herself. She couldn’t deal with another fight right now. “As long as you’re safe.”

Reagan grabbed his hand, gently holding it in hers. “You’re being safe, right?” She asked, unable to keep the anxiety out of her voice.

Felix stared at his hand in hers, the emotion in his eyes suddenly unreadable. “Yes Reagan,” He said. “I’m being safe.”

“You’re being careful?” Reagan asked again, slowly rubbing her thumb atop his knuckles. Anything to soothe her worries.

“Yes Reagan.” He answered again, but despite it, he didn’t sound as annoyed as before. His voice had softened, just slightly.

“Okay, okay. As long as you’re being safe.” Reagan said, still desperately trying to convince herself. “Just, remember to be careful, okay? Try not to use them too much; even if you’re only doing it around the house, it’s still dangerous. I don’t want you getting hurt.” She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “I can’t lose you.”

Felix met her gaze. His mouth parted slightly, and for a second it was almost as if he was about to admit what was really bothering him so much. Reagan could feel it, that distance between them, it closed for just a second, and it was almost like before, before they moved, before Felix met July Roberts, before everything started going downhill.

But as soon as it started, it ended. Felix’s eyes hardened and he looked away again, pulling his hand from hers. “It’s fine Reagan.” He said dismissively. “You worry too much.”

In an instant, that coldness was back.

Reagan blinked back tears that suddenly sprang up. Sometimes she really hated herself for it, her inability to go a single conversation without tearing up a little bit. She forced herself to give him an empty smile, anything to avoid a fight. “I guess you’re right. I just can’t help it.” She chuckled.

She stood up, rubbing her hands along her pants. “Well, I’m gonna get started on supper now. Remember to actually work on your homework, not just talk on the phone, huh?” She said, flicking Felix playfully.

Felix snorted and rolled his eyes. “He’s helping me.”

Reagan laughed. “Uh huh. Sure.”

A part of her wondered if this was just how it was going to be. Felix was sixteen now, as much as Reagan didn’t want to believe it. He was growing up, becoming his own person. He didn’t need her as much anymore. A part of Reagan knew this would eventually happen, Felix was a teenager after all, he was slowly going to become more interested in his friends than his parents, he was going to want to spend more time out. This was good. It was what she had wanted all along, wasn’t it? But she hadn’t expected it to happen so… soon.

It was like yesterday that he was only six years old, grinning at her from the backseat of her beat up old truck and singing along to the song playing on her iPod, grinning happily at their “new adventure” as Reagan pulled out of the driveway to their abuela’s estate. Not a worry in the world.

Reagan couldn’t believe it had really been ten years since that day already.

She didn’t want for the two of them to grow apart. She had thought they were different, they were closer than that. She didn’t want things to change, she wanted Felix to still be able to rely on her, to tell her about his worries, about what he was truly feeling. She didn’t want to lose him too, didn’t know what she’d do if she did.

Despite her instinct to press him further, to push him to open up, to find out the truth about July Roberts, she walked towards the door, for once giving him space. Still, she couldn’t hold back the wave of lingering sadness that washed over her at it.

Felix really was growing up. And soon, he wouldn’t need her at all.

“I’m not going to get caught. This time’s going to be different.” Felix suddenly said, stopping her in her tracks. Reagan paused at the door, turning back to look at him. There seemed to be something deeper to the declaration, this look of pure determination evident in his face.

A memory flashed behind Reagan’s eyes. Felix finding her after school, only months ago, hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “I’m sorry.” Was all he said, before he shakily rested his head on her shoulder, unable to look her in the eyes any longer. He’d fought for so long to be able to keep his powers under control. Maybe this, in a way, would be a good thing. Maybe they’d actually make it through the school year this time.

“Okay,” She said softly. “I believe you.”

Something about the look in his eyes calmed her worries. Maybe she’d let her anxiety get the better of her. After all, this was Felix she was talking about. He may have been more distant lately, but that didn’t change the fact that if it was a real problem, something worth worrying about, he would’ve gone to her already. He trusted her…. He wouldn’t have hidden something important from her.

Whatever was bothering him, she was sure it wasn’t a big deal.

[wastelandmoony]

Déjà Vécu: Chapter Six

Chapter Six: People Like Us

Characters: Remus Lupin/Reader, Sirius Black/Reader (no use of y/n), James Potter, Petter Pettigrew

Summary: Remus is hiding something, but what?

Warnings: Minors DNI, 18+ only!, angst, anxiety/overwhelming feelings, language

Read on AO3

Companion Playlist

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

Somebody was yelling.

The words were scrambled in the haze, but there was no mistaking the tone of fear.

Her ankle was throbbing, and the intake of air was a struggle for her burning lungs.

The world began to slowly fade back to life, the words of the screaming individual becoming clear.

“—I told you, she wasn’t ready!” James was livid.

Another voice countered, “It wasn’t my fault! She’s the one that went into a nosedive, I tried to catch up and grab her!” 

Someone directly overhead snapped at the others, “Shut it! Both of you! She’s coming to…”

As her eyes fluttered open, the fuzziness of the bright day stung as it came into view. Remus was leaning over her, concern settling in-between his brows. James and Sirius popped up behind him, the latter biting his nails nervously.

“Don’t move too quickly,” Remus said quietly, “you hit your head pretty hard.”

She blinked a few times, looking around to find Peter sitting down by her knees, examining her hurt ankle. He poked it with his wand and she hissed.

“It doesn’t look broken, just sprained maybe…” Pete said calmly. 

Sirius leaned over him skeptically, “…and how d’you know that, Mungo Bonham?” 

“Mum’s a healer, I helped her a bunch growing up,” Peter blushed, looking up at her and ignoring Sirius’ prying gaze, “I can cast a basic stabilizing charm, it won’t fix it immediately but it’ll keep your ankle steady enough to help heal on its own. It’s either that or we go to the Infirmary…”

She shook her head vehemently. Already thoroughly embarrassed enough, the last thing she needed was a hospital visit on the second day of school.

Pete nodded a confirmation, waving his wand over her ankle and muttering an incantation. She immediately felt her ankle tighten, like it had been wrapped in plaster. 

Remus looked at her less-pained expression, “…Better?”

“Definitely,” she moved to get up, and James immediately grabbed her.

“Go slow,” he said, gripping onto her arm.

She stood up to full height, patting James’ hand to let him know it was okay to let go. He backed off slowly, resigning to carrying her bag that Remus had brought down from the stands.

“James, really, I’m alright,” she laughed as he looked back at her warily. 

He led the way back towards the castle, the others following slowly to keep pace with their now limping friend. As they crested over a sloping hill leading to the main entrance, Sirius lingered beside her.

“…I thought you had died or something. I saw you start to dive and when you couldn’t regain control…I tried to get to you, really I did—“ his voice was quiet, breaking slightly under the weight of the earlier events. 

“Sirius, it’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have tried to best you, not on my first time,” she put her hand on his shoulder, “I can’t however, promise that I won’t completely annihilate you on my second.”

His blue eyes shot to hers, a smirk growing on his lips, “You want to go again?”

“Of course,” she laughed, “buckle up, Black, I’ll be doing laps around you in no time!”

———

The rest of the day was spent in the Great Hall; James, Peter, and Sirius playing rounds of Exploding Snap, while Remus read quietly and she drew doodles in a small torn up sketchbook beside him. Every so often she would catch Remus glancing over at her work, quickly averting his gaze a moment later. 

“…You’re quite good,” he finally whispered, leaning over to observe one of her profile studies of James. 

“Thanks, it’s just a little hobby I’ve always done. My mums an art teacher, so I was basically born with a pencil in my hand,” she giggled. 

The sun was going down as Remus set his book on the table, stretching his arms above his head, “I think I’m gonna check out the library before dinner, wanna come?”

“Yes, please,” she leapt up a little too quickly, a jolt of pain shooting through her ankle causing her to yelp. 

“I’ve got you,” Remus gripped her elbow, “Hold on to me.”

She linked arms with him, leaning slightly into his side as they left the hall.

Remus led her down the winding corridors, passing by so many closed doors that made her wonder what mysteries they concealed. 

“How do you know where to go? We’ve only been here one night,” she said, amazed at his navigation.

“I may or may not have snuck out last night midway through the ‘Great Gryffindor Quidditch Debacle’,” he smirked, “If I had to listen to James yell at Peter about Puddlemere United one more time, I would’ve set my bed on fire.”

As they approached the entrance to the library, Remus let go to hold the door open. She muttered a small thanks, stepping through the vestibule into the largest collection of texts she had ever seen. 

Remus stood beside her, mouth slightly agape as they both took in the vaulted ceilings, glowing candles, and the seemingly never ending rows of bookshelves. They began to wind their way through, grabbing any book that piqued their interest. When they each had a sizable stack, they retired to a small alcove where a few armchairs sat. 

For the next few hours, they didn’t do anything but read. It was within this time, that she finally understood why she liked Remus so much: he was easy. Being with him was effortless; he didn’t push her, didn’t show off, he just existed alongside. An equal. In turn, she did not feel the need to perform for him, to make herself into anything other than her own genuine self. They could sit in silence for hours, and be perfectly content with each other’s company. 

A small older witch with an annoyed expression tapped on a nearby shelf to get their attention, “Library’s closed for the night, you’ll have to pack it up,” she grumbled. 

Remus closed the potion book he was engrossed in, placing it on the table and rubbing his eyes, “Merlin, what time is it?” He glanced at his watch, “Well, we’ve missed dinner…”

“We can always sneak into the kitchens if you want?” She offered, adding her book to the pile on the table. He gave her a confused look in return.

“They’re next to my common room,” she laughed, “I have to go back that direction anyway, so you can come with if you’re hungry, I’ll show you where they are.”

After putting their respective stacks of books away under the scrutinizing gaze of Madam Pince, they set off in the direction of the lower floors. This time, she led the way, retracing their steps from earlier, but continuing down until they came to a set of wooden doors a few meters down from the familiar pile of barrels that led to the Hufflepuff common room. She had overheard a few older students talking about the kitchens last night at dinner; according to them, the house elves had an exceptionally good relationship with Hufflepuffs, as long as the students were respectful and polite (something that came naturally to most Badgers).

The elves in the kitchens jumped at the chance to serve them, shoving anything they could into their arms, including sandwiches, cakes, fruit, and chocolates. 

Remus was amazed, laughing openly as they left the kitchen after thanking the elves multiple times over. 

“I dunno if I can carry all of this back up to my floor!” He looked over the haul in his arms. 

“Wanna eat in my common room? It’s right there,” she gestured to the barrels with her head.

“Am I…allowed?” He asked.

She shrugged, “As long as another Hufflepuff invites you, yeah.”

They stopped in front of the barrels, and she placed a few items on top of Remus’ pile so she could remove her wand and tap the password. He watched as the tunnel opened, nodding at the impressive sight.

“Ours is just a verbal password,” he admitted, “They change it every few weeks.”

She explained how to tap correctly, warning him that the wrong rhythm would discipline the attempting party, though she was still unsure what exactly the punishment was. 

Remus was awed by the common room. He spent a good few minutes gawking at the copper potted plants lining the balcony, and the dancing cacti that flanked one of the doors. They chose a spot by the fireplace and dumped their food onto the carpet, sitting down and devouring the small feast the elves had curated. 

As they split the last bit of chocolate, she leaned her head against Remus’ shoulder.

“Are you still upset about being a Hufflepuff?” He asked quietly.

She nodded into his neck, “A little…this helped though,” she motioned towards the remnants of their makeshift picnic. 

“Amicitia,” he whispered into her hair.

“What…?” She lifted her head to look at him.

“Amicitia,” he repeated, “it’s our password. Seventh floor, look for the portrait of the Fat Lady.”

She stared back at him, stunned.

“Remus, you don’t have to do that. We’re not supposed to just let anyone know the way in—“

“You’re not just anyone,” he interrupted, “You’re our friend. You’re welcome there any time.”

His face was serious as he stared back, the light from the fireplace dancing in his hazel eyes. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him for the first time since they met on the train. He smelled liked chocolate and old books, and was so warm that she wanted to curl up and fall asleep right then and there. 

“Thank you,” she whispered against his shirt.

———

September 6th, 1971

Remus wasn’t at breakfast.

He wasn’t at dinner the night before either.

She waited for him outside of their shared Charms class, eventually being ushered inside by an impatient Professor Graves. Immediately following Charms she hurried to the Great Hall for lunch, hoping to find Remus sitting amongst their friends.

He wasn’t.

She sat next to Peter at the table, who was looking incredibly glum. 

“Everything okay?” She addressed the group rather than just him, more so implying her interest in finding out where their missing friend was.

“Well, Petey here,” Sirius pointed over at the boy next to her, “has somehow misplaced his Transfiguration textbook already, and we have class in an hour. He’s sulking because I refuse to let him borrow mine.”

She rolled her eyes dramatically, “Here Pete, you can borrow my copy, I won’t need it until later this week.”

She dug through her bag, brandishing a red leather book that she swiftly handed to her friend with a smile. 

“He’s never going to learn if you keep helping him!” Sirius whined from across the table.

“What’re you, his father?” She snapped back.

He glared at her, “What’s got you all riled up today?” 

She looked at each of their faces, “Have none of you noticed that there’s someone missing from this table?”

The three boys glanced between each other, eyes falling to the empty space on her other side. 

“Oh, you mean Lupin?” James said through sandwich bites.

She rolled her eyes. Are all boys this thick, or was it just these three idiots?

“He got sick last night before dinner, something about his head he said—“ James continued.

“—went down to the hospital wing. I guess he’s still there,” Sirius chimed in, seeming very unconcerned for his friend’s welfare.

She stared at them, appalled by their calm attitudes, “…and none of you thought to check up on him?”

Peter piped up, “I was going to see him after lunch—“ “—no you weren’t, Pete, don’t be a brown-noser,” Sirius sneered.

“I can’t believe you…” her voice was rife with disappointment, “…some friends you are.” 

She rose from the table, snatching up her bag and stalking out of the hall. 

———

Remus was sitting up in the hospital bed when she approached, downing a potion and depositing the empty vial into Madam Pomfrey’s waiting hand. He looked normal, except for the dark circles beneath his eyes. 

“Hey,” she smiled at him as the matron left his bedside, “I missed you in Charms, Professor Graves gave me your homework by the way…”

The smile he returned was tired, and up close she noticed how pale he looked. 

“Remus…what happened? Are you alright?”

He nodded slowly, swallowing dryly, “Yeah, I’m okay. I just felt a little…under the weather, so I stayed the night down here. Madam Pomfrey said I’ll be good to leave in about an hour or so.”

Something in his tone made her uneasy, but due to his fragile state she didn’t want to pry. 

“Anything good happen while I was gone?” He asked with a grin.

“Just the usual—oh! I forgot, James tried to talk to Lily again last night at dinner and she dumped a bowl of mashed potatoes on his head,” she giggled at the memory of butter dripping from James’ messy hair all over the floor.

Remus groaned, “I would’ve paid to see that. I’m so tired of hearing him talk about her, it’s been a bloody week since he met her and he’s adamant she’s the future Mrs. James Potter. Poor girl…”

She sat at his bedside for another 30 minutes, watching as the color slowly returned to his face. At a quarter to, she stood up and grabbed his hand.

“I have Potions in a few, are you sure you’ll be okay to get back to the common room by yourself? I can stay if you—“

He shook his head, “No, I’ll be fine, really. I’ll see you at dinner?”

She nodded, giving his hand a squeeze before leaving. 

As she emerged from the doorway of the infirmary, she physically ran into James. 

“Christ—Potter, what’re you doing?” She adjusted the strap of her bag that had fallen in the collision.

“I uh…I heard what you said back there. In the Great Hall…about us being terrible friends,” his gaze fell to the floor, “You’re right, you know. We should’ve been with him—“

“—Just promise you’ll get him back to the tower in one piece,” she raised her hand to cut him off, still annoyed from earlier.

James nodded, regret and determination settling into his features. 

As she turned to leave, she looked back at him, registering his sagging shoulders.

“James—“

He made eye contact before walking through the infirmary doorway.

“—thank you,” she smiled softly, a sentiment he returned before disappearing to care for his friend. 

———

October 29th, 1971

“—Two rolls of parchment on how to treat a werewolf bite by next week!” Professor Sharpe called as the mixed group of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws dispersed. A vast majority of them groaned loudly at the homework, it was Halloween weekend and no one was planning on studying. Along with the various house parties, there was the annual celebration tonight in the Great Hall, something she was looking forward to, especially after Remus and James promised they’d sneak her into the Gryffindor table (they’d been working on transfiguring her robes scarlet for a few weeks now).

The rest of the day’s timetable was empty, so she headed up to Gryffindor Tower. The boys had double potions that morning, something she knew they dreaded each week, so she mentally prepared to deal with Sirius’ bad attitude that seemed to always linger long after class ended. As she ascended the staircase to the seventh floor, James and Sirius came running from an adjacent corridor.

“What’s going on?” She stared at them wide-eyed as they jumped down the stairs she was standing on.

“LUPINGOTINTOAFIGHTWITHSNIVELLUS!” Sirius’ excited words ran together as he bounded down the stairs.

She whipped her head around to James, who had paused a few steps down from her.

“Remus punched Snape, he’s in McGonagall’s office,” he motioned for her to hurry, and she ran after the two of them. 

———

The three leaned against the stone wall against Professor McGonagall’s door, waiting for Remus to emerge.

“Tell me again, coherently, what happened,” she calmly stated.

“We were in Potions, and Remus was grouped with Snape, Lily, and Mulciber,” James explained, “Sirius, Pete, and I were working on our draught and the next thing we know—“

“—he fucking clocked Snivellus in the jaw!” Sirius exclaimed, mimicking a right hook. 

She rolled her eyes, “Please stop calling him that…did you happen to hear what caused Remus to hit him?”

James stuck out his bottom lip and shook his head, “No, we’ve no idea. We looked up and they were both on the floor, Remus was just going at him…”

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t surprised, though she didn’t think sweet, quiet Remus had it in him. Nobody liked Severus, except some of the Slytherins of course, but no one had ever resorted to violence against him; something bad must have happened for Remus to snap like that. 

The heavy wooden door opened, causing the three of them to push off the wall quickly. Remus walked out with his head down, shutting the door quietly behind him.

“So?!” Sirius cut to the chase. 

“So what…?” Remus deadpanned, walking past his friends and back towards Gryffindor Tower.

“What happened with McGonagall?” Sirius clarified, the three of them jogging to catch up to Remus’ long strides.

“I have three weeks detention, starting the 4th,” He wasn’t looking at any of them as he continued walking, and she noticed the bruise forming around his left eye. She knew better than to push him when the others were around, better to wait until they were alone. 

Sirius though, didn’t share the same thought.

“What even happened? I was cutting up a sopophorus bean and all of a sudden, boom! You’re on the floor absolutely annihilating Snivellus,” you could hear the admiration in his voice.

“—He called her a mudblood,” Remus stopped walking and turned around to face them.

She immediately met his eyes, her stomach dropping, “…what?”

“Mulciber. He called Lily a mudblood, and Snape didn’t defend her or say anything to him, he just…laughed,” Remus began to walk up the stairs again, leaving the other three to soak up the reality of the situation.

James broke the brief silence, “Don’t worry about it, Lily’s strong, she can handle someone—“

“You don’t fucking get it,” Remus’ voice rose, spinning on his heel at the portrait of the Fat Lady, “You’re pure blood, you’re perfect, you’re acceptable. You’ve never had someone look at you like you’re subhuman, like you’re something unworthy of a normal life—“

“Remus, mate, that’s not what we’re—“ Sirius held up his hands.

“DON’T TRY AND ACT LIKE YOU UNDERSTAND!” Remus yelled, “DON’T TRY AND ACT LIKE YOU GIVE A SHIT ABOUT WHAT PEOPLE LIKE SNAPE, AND MALFOY, AND MULCIBER, AND  THE MAJORITY OF THE WIZARDING COMMUNITY SAY ABOUT PEOPLE LIKE—”

They all went silent, as Remus paused at the top of the stairs, eyes blazing and chest heaving.

She took a step forward towards him, “…people like who, Remus?”

His eyes were golden when they met hers, the molten color shocking her to the core.

“—People like us,” and with that, he disappeared through the portrait hole, leaving the three of them dumbfounded on the stone landing.

[musical-miracle]

// HELLO CROSSROADS! //

the name’s Boombox! came here to check out my little studio? it isn’t much but it gets the job done! hope we can all get along here!

come chat with me! i’m not mean, i promise!

//

RULES!!

-> asking me weird things? eeeh… keep it to a minimum ‘kay? m’ not all in on that stuff!

-> don’t be rude man, we’re all here to vibe after all!

-> i’d hate to block ya, if you’re really getting on my nerves i might have to though!

-> that’s it that’s all for now! more’s gonna be added if i feel like it!

-// ooc //-

Good Gods first parody blog! ever!

hi hi it’s me Brynn!! (They/It!) i’m the only one running this blog rn and this is my first EVER roleplay blog so be easy on me <:]

BIIIIG THANKS TO @/simply-windy for motivating me to make this blog, go check out his if you haven’t!!

• keep in mind this blog is my first! i’m nervous!!

• you can ask suggestive things but i can choose not to answer if i’m uncomfy (+ keep it to a minimum) then again i’ll see, romantic fluff is okay too!

• HEADCANONS WILL BE PRESENT IN THIS BLOG!!

• M!As are allowed, just not too many

• sometimes anon asks will be paired with a little doodle! if it’s silly enough i might draw it…

• ANY and ALL interactions are welcome!! just remember i do this all for fun, and may have delayed responses ‘cause i don’t do this all day

//

i follow from x-to-o!

banner and profile are also made by me!

in character responses will be in green

actions will be in plain text

out of character responses will be put in small text and will be tagged with /ooc

i may emphasize some words by putting them in bold or italics!

enjoooooyyyy!!! >:]

(ref sheet below! sorry if it isn’t the best :,D)

[eflen-n-reegee]

Peter’s Playground Part 1 - “Welcome to the Playground”

Hello! I’ve been working on this for a while, and it’s finally done. This is the first part of a series I’m hoping to continue, about a mall that has been repurposed as a place where all kinds of regressors, dreamers, and caretakers can hang out. I’m going to do profiles for all the major characters and a layout of the mall itself, but I’m not sure when. It’s gonna be a pretty casual series; although there will be mentions of nonspecific trauma and occasional sad characters, the story will never get too heavy. I’m really pleased with this, and I really hope you all like it! 😊

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Ash, are you sure this is okay?”

“Of course!” Ashley was bouncing in her seat, grinning wide. “It’s a lot of fun! And if you really don’t like it I’ll never ask you to go again, promise.” She crossed her heart and made the Girl Scouts sign.

Wendy sighed, her hands tightening on the wheel. “I just mean… I’m not like you, y’know? Or them. Will that make anybody mad?”

“Like Ashley” meant an age regressor. Wendy understood the basics: Ashley sometimes pretended to be a kid, and sometimes her brain even worked more like a kid’s brain. It was how she dealt with some really awful stuff that had happened in her real childhood. But Wendy didn’t do that, and her childhood had been pretty good. Going to a place meant for age regressors when she wasn’t one felt a little disrespectful.

“Oh no way! It’s totally fine, trust me - and turn left at the light!”

Wendy obeyed, somewhat reluctantly, and pulled into the parking lot of a former mall. There were no signs for individual stores, just the same words repeated in different colors: “Peter’s Playground”.

“Let’s go in the yellow door!” Ash said excitedly, pointing to the appropriately colored sign. “That’s where all the best stuff is!”

“Okay,” Wendy said, pulling into a parking space.

Ashly was out of the car the second it was put in park, hopping from one foot to the other. “C’mon! I’ve got a bunch to show you!”

“I’m coming, calm down,” Wendy said, but she knew by now that Ash’s energy was only going to go up. She also knew what Ash was going to say, and could have said it with her.

“Can’t tell me what to do, not my mom!” Ashley cackled and grabbed Wendy’s hand, dragging her towards the building.

As they passed through the sliding glass doors, Wendy was hit by a wall of sound. Laughter; playful shouts; childish crying; and still more laughter. The sudden volume was almost frightening, but she quickly adjusted.

A table was set just inside the door, and a man with a friendly face waved at them. The table was covered in buttons with all sorts of words and phrases printed on them - “Toddler Regressor” and “He/Him” and “I experience speech loss” and “Please don’t touch me”. There were also name and pronoun stickers. The man smiled. “Pins are fifty cents apiece, stickers are free.”

Wendy blinked. “Should I get one?”

“You don’t have to,” Ashley said, pulling a few buttons from her pocket (“It’s okay to touch me” and “Loud Regressor”) and fixing them to the shoulder strap of her overalls. “Some of us just like ‘em. Makes it easier to let people know about us.”

Wendy glanced over the table, then filled out a name tag. “Hello, I am: Wendy, A Visitor.”

Ashley led her down a short hallway into what was apparently the food court, and Wendy looked around in surprise. There were dozens of people running around the way excited children might, and dozens of others soothing and scolding and cautioning and cuddling. It was a bit strange to see so many… non-children (was that the right word?) with pacifiers in their mouths or stuffed animals in their arms, wearing costumes or onsies, crying legitimate tears or laughing like they’d never stop.

“This is the yellow section!” Ashley announced happily, bouncing on her toes. “There’s a lotta great stuff here! Red’s mostly for shopping and blue’s mostly quiet stuff, but yellow’s for playing! The movie theater is good too, and the museums upstairs, but the yellow section’s the very very best! Oh, except for maybe the stuff outside, because…”

Wendy looked around while Ash continued to chatter. In addition to the sorts of restaurants one would expect to see in a food court, there was one she didn’t recognize - “Childhood Favorites”. It seemed to be a buffet-style restaurant with a lot of the foods she remembered enjoying as a kid; pizza rolls, Uncrustables, mac n’ cheese, Lunchables… It made her oddly happy to see so many of the foods she used to love in one place.

“C’mon!” Ashley exclaimed suddenly, grabbing Wendy’s hand again and dragging her away from the food court. She pointed out various things as they walked, and Wendy noticed numerous interesting things on her own. In many ways this place was like an average two-story mall. There were “stores” on either side of the hallway, and an open-air second floor which Wendy could study from where she stood.

The differences were what made the place interesting. The “stores” weren’t actually stores, or at least not ones Wendy had ever heard of; the sign above the doors said things like “La Fantaisie” and “Imagines General”. (“That one’s a play restaurant,” Ashley said when Wendy asked, “and that’s a pretend doctor’s office. They helped my doll when her arm came off!”) Huge slides had been installed next to the escalators. Beside every bench was a play-mat. There were a few seats set into darker nooks, flanked by sighs that said “Crying Corner - Please Don’t Disturb”. When they passed one, Wendy saw a woman around her own age sobbing into her arms.

“Why is it a ‘do not disturb’ thing?” Wendy asked softly.

Ashley chewed on her lip. “Regressing isn’t always fun,” she said slowly. “Sometimes you get sad or scared and you feel like the world is ending. For some of us, crying helps. I like when somebody tries to make me feel better, but some people don’t, or they don’t all the time. My friend Micah doesn’t even want anybody to SEE him cry, and he gets real upset if you try to talk to him.”

They walked past the stores to a large open area. Wendy had visited malls where there were play structures for kids in similar areas, but once again, this place was different. There was a huge play structure shaped like a tree, clearly custom-built for adults to use. It featured a slide that looked like a giant leaf, several spots for climbing, and a treehouse fort up near the top. Near to the tree, but still clearly a separate structure, was a giant cave. The lights inside were dim, but Wendy could still tell that at least some parts of the cave could be drawn on with chalk, and the wafting smell of chlorine told her there was some kind of water activity deeper inside.

“Isn’t it GREAT?!” Ashley had been excited before, but now she was full-on screaming with delight. “And these aren’t even the only ones, there’s more - there’s five! And one of them has fountains and stuff!”

Wendy laughed a little; Ash’s energy could be contagious at times. “It’s amazing! How did-” She broke off as two men came running over, each grinning wide at Ashley.

“Hey Ashy!” one said excitedly. “Come play with us! Kay’s gonna help us make boats!”

“Okay!” Ashley took a step forward, then paused with obvious reluctance. “Oh - I can’t. I’m showing my friend around. Maybe later, Jonathan…”

Wendy smiled and gave Ashley a playful shove. “It’s fine, go ahead.”

“But that’s not fair, I invited you here…”

Wendy had only actually seen Ashley regress a few times; but she knew she’d been regressed for a while, and now was clearly trying to fight it off. And Wendy didn’t want her to.

“It’s okay,” she said, using the nurturing voice that Ash seemed to find comforting while regressed. “I’m not angry or upset. I want you to have fun with your friends.”

The change was almost immediate; Ashley broke into a wide grin and grabbed the first man’s hand, dragging him away so quickly Wendy felt the need to call, “Be careful!”

“Alice’ll take care of her!” the second man shouted over his shoulder.

A young woman - presumably Alice - followed after them at an unhurried pace. “I’ll bring her to the food court around noon,” she said, smiling as she passed.

Wendy nodded appreciatively, watching Ash and her friends disappear into the cave. Then she continued down the next hall, studying the various “stores” and smiling at the people she passed.

The signs in this new section were all shades of blue (“Questions and Answers”, “Mountain Goat Elementary”, “Day-to-Dusk Care”…), and it seemed very calm compared to the yellow area. There were also far more people sitting quietly on the benches or the play-mats-

Wendy let out a squeak of surprise as she stumbled, falling onto her hands and knees. She turned and stared at a person wearing a “they/them” sticker, sitting on the floor with a leg outstretched. Their eyes were wide and beginning to water, and Wendy started to panic. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, are you okay? Are you hurt-“

A man suddenly appeared at her side, cupping the person’s face in his hands. “Hey, kiddo,” he said, his voice very soothing. “You alright?”

The person sniffled and shook their head, rubbing one eye.

“What do you need, bud?”

They sniffled again, then made their hand into a kind of fist and moved it in front of their mouth.

The man burst out laughing. “I told you, we’re not getting ice cream today!”

Their tears suddenly vanished and  they stuck their lip out in a pout before turning their attention to the plastic cars at their feet.

The man smiled and turned to Wendy. “Hey, I’m Dustin,” he said, holding out a hand. “And the con artist is Skipper.”

Wendy shook his hand, feeling flustered. “Are you sure they’re okay? I mean, it was an accident, but-”

“Nah, they’re tough as nails. Aren’t ya, Skip?”

Skipper didn’t look up, but held out two fingers and moved them down to their other hand.

“Oh, can they…? I thought maybe they were hearing impaired”

Dustin shook his head. “They don’t talk while they’re regressed, but they can hear you.”

Wendy leaned slightly closer to Skipper. “I’m really sorry. I should have watched where I was going.”

This time they did look up, and they smiled at Wendy. Then they stuck their tongue out, which made Wendy laugh and Dustin roll his eyes. “Well, I think they’ve forgiven you. We need to get going, Skipper, Suzette’s waiting.”

Wendy helped them clean up the cars, apologized again, then continued walking - being much more careful to watch where she stepped.

The blue section eventually led to a cinema, and Wendy paused to look at the listings for the theaters. “Theaters 1-3: Various Walt Disney Animation Films. Theaters 4-6: Various Dreamworks Animation Films. Theater 7: Various Studio Ghibli Films.” And so it went. She scanned the list, then frowned and looked again.

“HORROR movies?” she said aloud, as though speaking the words would reveal them to be something else.

“Horror movies,” a voice affirmed. “Some of us really like ‘em.”

Wendy turned and gave the woman an  embarrassed smile. “Sorry, I don’t mean to seem judgmental-”

The woman waved a hand. “It’s no big deal. Plenty of regressors DON’T like ‘mature’ stuff, but plenty do - just like plenty of non-regressors like animation even though it’s ‘childish’. Older regressors get the better deal in some ways - people don’t question my media choices as much, but my little kid friends tend to get grilled.” She smiled. “I’m Elz. This your first time here?”

“Yeah, my friend brought me. Do you know Ashley?”

As soon as she asked, Wendy worried it might be a rude question - like she was suggesting all regressors knew each other - but Elz laughed. “I think all the regulars know Ash. She’s pretty hard to ignore. Do you regress at all?”

Wendy shook her head. “She just wanted me to see it. It’s really cool.”

“Yeah, Peter’s made a pretty great place. He started everything for his older brother, did you know that? Michael had to raise him and missed out on a lot of his own childhood, so he got into regression.”

“Wow. Do they still come here?”

“Oh yeah, they’re around. Peter does a walk-through almost every week to check on everybody, and he’s always up for suggestions.” Elz grinned proudly. “You seen the pet regressor store yet? There’s a section for weirder animals now, and that was actually my idea - wasn’t enough lizard stuff before.”

Wendy nodded. “You pet regress too?”

“Pet dream. It’s more pretend than the age stuff, I don’t ever really feel like a lizard, but it’s fun to crawl around and lie in the sun.”

Wendy nodded slightly. She had heard a little bit about pet dreaming and age dreaming, but she didn’t know very much about it. What Elz was describing was interesting, and it felt like something Wendy might actually enjoy. She had tried to regress, but she hadn’t felt like a child; just like someone who was pretending. But if dreaming was just a form of pretend, she might be able to get more into it.

Except it was still related to age regression, and she still felt like she was stepping in on something that wasn’t any of her business. It was so important to so many people; what business did Wendy have intruding? Ash had experienced legitimate trauma - Wendy couldn’t just use her coping method for casual fun. 

Elz laughed slightly at Wendy’s grave expression. “I’m sorry, I bet you’ve got stuff to do and I’m holding you up.”

“Oh no, I’m just thinking about something.”

“Well, I need to get moving either way, but it was nice to meet you. Hope I see you around.”

Elz headed one way, ponytail swinging, and Wendy went another. She finally reached the red section, and this was the first area that truly seemed like a mall. There was an “Old Navy” and “Hot Topic”, a pet supplies store called “Furever Joys” and a furniture store advertising custom-built items. There were still signs that this was a place for regressors, but it felt much more “normal” than the rest of the building.

Wendy checked her watch. She had about twenty minutes before she was supposed to meet Ashley, and she wasn’t sure what else she should do. She shrugged and sat down on a bench, smiling at the man sitting on the other end.

The man smiled back and moved a little closer. “Hi. I’m Chris.”

“Wendy. Nice to meet you.”

“You too.” He glanced at her name tag and smiled. “So you’re just visiting?”

“Yeah, my friend wanted me to see the place.”

“Think you’ll come back?”

Wendy shrugged. “Probably not… Don’t get me wrong, I think this is all fantastic, I just… I’m not actually a regressor, or a dreamer or caregiver or anything really, so…”

Chris blinked. “So… what?”

“So… This place isn’t really meant for me, right?”

He shrugged. “I think it’s meant for whoever wants to be here. I mean, I’m not a regressor either, but I still like coming here. It’s just… nice to be childish sometimes.”

“But don’t most people regress because of trauma?”

“A lot do, maybe even most, but not all. Plenty of the people I know do it for fun or to relax or because they like to be looked after.”

Wendy thought this over. “… I think I want to age dream,” she finally admitted, “but I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. Like I’m turning their coping method into a game.”

Chris smiled. “I don’t think you need to worry about that, at least not here. A lot of the regressors I know do it just for fun, and nobody’s ever gotten mad at them.”

Wendy nodded slowly. “I think I want to age dream,” she repeated, a little more confidently. “Or at least try.”

His smile widened. “I’m not doing anything right now. Do you want some company?”

Wendy nodded and they both stood up, with her leading the way. She paused in front of a Lego store, took a breath, and walked in.

As expected, the shelves were stocked with various Lego kits; but the center of the store was a huge free-build area. A few people were kneeling or sitting and building various structures. Wendy sat down and pulled a pile of blocks towards her. Chris did the same.

“Do you want to talk,” he asked, “or just build?”

“Just build, I think. Is that okay?”

He nodded and began snapping bricks together.

Wendy took a deep breath and stared at her pile of blocks. She could remember building castles when she was young, but she hadn’t touched a Lego in… probably a decade or more.

Well. No time like the present.

She lined up various bricks to form the base of a wall, then began a second layer. She ignored her desire to use similar colors, ignored her desire to perfectly stagger the blocks for maximum stability. Just grab the first one you touch. Don’t think too hard. Try to think like a child.

And as her wall grew, layer by layer, it became easier.

By the time her phone buzzed, the wall was twelve blocks tall and Wendy was humming. She fished her phone out of her pocket and saw she’d received a text from Ashley: “I’m in the food court; are you okay?”

“I have to go.” Wendy’s voice was soft and somewhat reluctant as she stared at her wall.

Chris nodded. “Do you want me to walk with you?”

“No, that’s okay.” Wendy paused, then added, “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Wendy left the Lego store and hurried to the food court. When she saw Ashley she waved, and Ash ran over. She was no longer regressed and looked very apologetic.

“I’m SO sorry, that was so rude, I invite you here and then ditch-”

Wendy laughed. “It’s fine, Ash. I had fun.”

Ashley immediately perked up. “Really? You think you want to do this again?”

Wendy smiled. “Yeah. I think I do.”

[prometheanglory]

helloooo it’s not quite new years get over here in america but i have some end of the year sentiments to get off of my chest before 2022 is up 🥸 this is rly long teehee

it’s been !! a really busy year!! oh my god i didn’t realize how little i posted until i saw my tumblr wrapped T_T honestly, at some point i wondered if it’d be for the best for me to formally announce a hiatus — some parts due to university and work, and other parts due to personal conflicts that made it difficult to feel confident or proud that i was creating.

it feels kinda weird missing vinh’s birthday for the first time in a while 😅 (granted, i drew something for it but i didn’t post it bc i didnt finish/i got nervous) .

moreover, it felt weird being so distant from twst and my own tumblr? admittedly i scared myself off from doing as much as i could this year, so i have less to physically show that i’m still around and i still care just as much as i did in 2019. it’s hard to do stuff that you like when ur in the constant process of shoving ur foot in ur mouth or feeling really self-conscious, or well. sometimes it’s just hard to not feel insecure about what you want to make and what you perceive other people expect from you?

i admit that i’m still trying to rebuild my foundations so that i can feel secure and proud of myself. it’s been a really, really long road to take but i have all of 2023 and more to orient myself. i’ve been trying to get into new things and explore new ventures, and that has been… a very nerve-wracking process for someone who’s never done anything before (did you know how many emails and phonecalls i had to make to get anything done/set up just to take commissions….. i’ll tell u what, it’s definitely over 10)…

all in all, i just wanna get back on the horse _(:3 」∠)_ i’ve been a bit of a ghost, but i’m still here. i still wanna thank everyone who still pops in every now and then when i pop up every once in a while 😅 i really appreciate you guys hanging around and everything yall do, especially as a community. i don’t think i’ve ever seen a more vocal oc community before? it’s an environment that i appreciate more than anything and i don’t intend to let my gratitude go unspoken for. you guys are really sweet and supportive, and god, i can’t keep count on my fingers for the sheer quantity of amazing creators that i’ve seen here. i hope that with 2023, i get my hands on a better time management schedule so that i can properly give back into the community T_T

well anyway, i planned to do this many months back — here’s a list of random stuff i’ve been working on throughout 2021-2022 that i meant to announce but i never got around to but hopefully it’ll come trickling out in 2023 🤭

new dorm incoming, and a (pseudo) new dorm project

new ocs approaching :-) some canon, some fandorm

diversify my posts a little…….. cannot promise that i won’t still spam vinhs but i can try 🫡

organize blog a little more

stagrove uniform+chara revamp / sprites

oc design + sprite revamps (sarge / lola / imp twins / holly / edgar /xuehai are the ones i have on hand rn, but everyone’ll get their turn 🤓)

potential new vinh sprite (since the july one was just drawing over the old one 🤡)

stagrove episode is being gradually picked up again

i swear to god i’ll go through my inbox

get into merch production (charms/posters/stickers… u know the deal)

get through commissions faster and more frequently T_T

try to do a new style of commission…? (community votes on a subject/character/etc and when the goal is met, the art gets published for everyone to see or smth)

do a follower milestone celebration (potential giveaway?)

i swear to god i’ll get to that malleus daki design.

if malleus works out i prommy i’ll do leona daki too

oc personality or matchup quiz

more fun/detailed oc reference sheets

oc masterlist + oc profiles on toyhou.se

incoming comic project and more to come hopefully

[demonidoodles]

This has been sitting in my drafts forever so just take it

If you haven’t figured out wtf this is it’s me trying to replicate the WH artstyle and failing at it—

[halucygeno]

[Draft] Why Roadside Picnic is a timeless masterpiece and why everyone missed the point

(DRAFT NOTE: Otherside Picnic and PAFL are tagged because I intended to conclude this essay by explaining why I think those works, ostensibly inspired by R.P., don’t understand and fail to capture what makes the novel so powerful. My writing never got to that point, but it might still be of interest to fans of Otherside Picnic and PAFL, so I’ve kept the tags. If I ever manage to somehow finish this, I’ll take it down and replace it with the full version.)

ESSAY START:

With that needlessly provocative title out of the way, I hope people are still here and willing to listen as I try to explain myself:

[SPOILERS FOR THE WHOLE BOOK, GO READ IT IF YOU HAVEN’T DONE SO YET]

At its very core, Roadside Picnic is a character study. It acts as philosophical and social commentary too, but a vast majority of that is delivered and explored through Redrick’s character arc.

The sci-fi stuff which everyone loves referencing, and which every adaptation and “inspired” work can’t help but include: the Zone, the artefacts, bolt tossing, Mosquito Manges - none of that matters. You could replace it with magic, or dragons, or some other arbitrary plot device - it just needs to be beyond human understanding and have no clear explanation or origin, to allow for the ideas discussed by Noonan and Dr. Pillman in Chapter 3. This basic premise is all you need to discuss xenology, human psychology, “what’s a rational being”, how insignificant we are in the universe, etc.

All the other details are either little tid-bits of worldbuilding, window-dressing, or serve a specific narrative purpose. Witches’ Jelly could be any “super dangerous substance”, because what matters is not that it eats your bones, what matters is that Redrick sells it to a shady dealer, betraying the morals he espoused in Chapter 1:

All of these objects aren’t just “cool artefacts”, they’re tools for the Strugatskys to get across their themes.

And those themes are... Well, that’s harder to summarise. The main theme of the story seems to be about how economic circumstances and crises in one’s personal life can rot a person’s moral compass and kill their faith in the possibility of a better world. The events of the story turn someone like Redrick - an honest worker who believes in Kirill’s promises that science has the potential to save humanity - into an evil hypocrite, a murderer who lies to himself to justify his reprehensible actions. The question asked of the audience is “how responsible is Redrick for his own fate”, while the ending asks “will any of it amount to anything”?

To be clear, Redrick is a BAD person. By the end of the book, he has quit his job at the Institute, sold Witches’ Jelly to shady 3rd parties (which ended in a laboratory accident that killed 35), cheated on his wife (with a woman he supposedly despises) and murdered an innocent kid. He even draws sadistic pleasure from the emotional pain he will inflict on Burbridge by killing his son, savouring the irony of Burbridge being the one who kept encouraging him to take some newbie to the Meat Grinder:

But he wasn’t always like this. At the start of the story, he is cynical and rough, but he has principles. Like already mentioned earlier, in the excerpt where Noonan tells him about someone looking to buy Witches’ Jelly, he even goes as far as saying that he’ll work with the police to turn them in. The same police which, earlier in the chapter, stopped him in the street because they profiled him and assumed he was up to something:

Redrick has done his time in prison, gotten an honest job (yes, I know that he says that he still makes "a few bucks on the side”, but he’s actually relieved when he hears they’ll be walling off the Zone because it’ll mean “less temptation”. He wants to make money as a decent citizen), and he’s still being treated like a criminal and stopped by the police on-sight. And despite this, his fear of what the wrong person might do with Witches’ Jelly is so strong, he’s willing to go to them and report the buyer.

And this rejection of his prior Stalker persona is deeper than just getting a job at the institute and being willing to cooperate with police. When Kirill assumes that Redrick suggested getting the Full Empty as a ploy to sell his services, at first, Redrick doesn’t understand what he means. When he does, he feels outright insulted:

When he finds out about Kirill’s death, he is devastated, but notably, this sorrow quickly turns into a hatred of the systems which throw young men to their deaths for money. He curses Ernest for profiting from this exploitation. A key scene is when he hands Creon (a young man who just arrived in Harmont and wants to become a Stalker) a wad of cash and urges him to go back to Malta:

Another pillar of Redrick’s character is the fact that he loves and is loyal to his fiancée, Guta, despite her family being openly antagonistic towards him - not just because of his criminal past, but the fact that he’s been afflicted by the Zone:

He marries her at some point after this.

Most importantly, he actually has a purpose. This is shown when he is pestered by the emigration agent, as he makes a speech about how Harmont is a “hole into the future”, which will change life around the world for the better:

The crucial detail here is that the one who inspired him to think this way is Kirill. Redrick is always portrayed as cynical and bitter, so this high-mindedness is not coming from somewhere within him - it’s external. He’s drawing inspiration from the idealistic, honest people around him. So when Kirill dies, it is not merely the death of a close friend. It is the death of Redrick’s faith, his hope in the future. He even says “How will I get on without you?”:

Basically, Chapter 1 sets-up Redrick AT HIS BEST, so that the story can send him on a downward spiral in every chapter that follows.

Chapter 2 has several important developments, and it marks the start of Redrick’s moral decline. Before getting into that, though, I’d like to draw attention to another part of Redrick’s moral compass which is highlighted - his hatred of Burbridge and, more importantly, his hatred of Burbridge’s daughter, Dina.

Buzzard Burbridge embodies the most reprehensible, slimy aspects of being a Stalker. He is a selfish profiteer, willing to sacrifice his comrades and leave them to die just so he can get away with the loot. Redrick hates Burbridge, and, very importantly, believes himself to be better than Burbridge:

Redrick hates that Burbridge has no regard for human life, and this hatred applies in equal measure to Dina. When Dina tells Redrick that he should have left Buzzard to his death, he slaps her in the face:

This is not done out of sympathy for the man - Redrick hates Burbridge. What insults him is the implication that he should’ve left a comrade to their death - even a piece of sh*t comrade. He hates Dina, because even though what she says about Buzzard is true, it’s not a reason to abandon him to his death. Just like her father, she has no regard for human life.

In this scene, it’s also worth noting that Redrick is very respectful to Hamster. Hamster is the only Stalker to survive entering the Meat Grinder, supposedly saved by Buzzard. He seems to hang around the Burbridge household, possibly acting as some kind of servant, but is deformed and crippled from his injury:

The contrast between how he speaks to Dina and Hamster sends a clear message; Dina’s beauty means nothing. She’s evil, and deserves less respect than ugly, deformed Hamster.

Another key moment is Redrick’s conversation with Noonan in the café near the Métropole hotel. There, we learn why he quit working for the institute; money. He could no longer earn bonuses when expeditions to the Zone began being handled by robots:

Important here is that his salary still isn’t terrible, and the institute did not fire him. He chose to quit, because he wants a sense of freedom, of not being bossed around, and the money to splurge on things (like cigarettes) and have peace of mind. This is aptly summarised in the line “a man needs money so that he doesn't have to always be counting it”.

Obviously, another reason why he quit is Kirill’s death. In his final, rambling monologue, Redrick admits that he hated working for the Institute, so it’s very likely that Kirill and his idealistic visions for the future were the only things keeping him there.

So, to summarise, at this stage, Redrick’s character looks more or less like this: 1) Wants to do honest work and disassociate from his criminal past. 2) Believes the world can be saved by technology from the Zone. 3) Will never sell Witches’ Jelly to dangerous 3rd parties. 4) Needs money for a basic standard of comfort and freedom from authority. 5) Won’t abandon someone to their death, even someone as bad as Buzzard. 6) Beauty doesn’t matter if, morally, you’re an awful person. 7) Loyal to his wife and daughter.

Having lost Kirill, and with him, his hope for a better future, Redrick’s new source of meaning is his wife and daughter. His purpose in life is providing for them, especially Monkey, whose condition makes her the target of bullying.

(Side note: One thing always annoyed me. Why did they call her Monkey?! That’s asking for people to bully your kid! Was it just a coincidence, or did they really name her after her birth defect? And this is an accurate translation of the Russian “Мартышка”, no weird translation problems here.)

But this new purpose - providing for his family - crashes into him hard when he’s set-up, betrayed, caught by the police, and is forced to flee. It’s then revealed that Redrick had a trump-card up his sleeve - a jar of Witches’ Jelly and an interested buyer, willing to pay the money to his wife in instalments while he rots in prison. It’s never stated how long his prison sentence is, but Redrick estimates that evading arrest (which he did to arrange the transaction) will add another year to it.

To be clear, this jar was prepared as a last resort. He clearly doesn’t want to do this. Earlier, in the Métropole, when he's asked if he managed to procure it, he lies, saying that he didn’t:

He promises to get it later, keeping Throaty interested, but not giving it to him. Later, as he’s about to make the call, he admonishes himself:

This the first major step in Redrick’s decline, where his self-interest explicitly endangers the lives of others, and he still picks himself over others.

Before moving into Chapter 3, one part which I’d like to quickly touch on is the circumstances of Redrick’s arrest. I didn’t pick up on this on my first read, but Ernest wasn’t the one who set-up the police ambush in the Borscht. The one who set up Redrick’s arrest was Richard Noonan:

At first, I was confused as to why Redrick never realised that Noonan betrayed him, but after looking at it more closely, and despite how stupid it may sound, I genuinely think Redrick was so sleep-deprived that he forgot Noonan was the one who told him to drive to the Borscht in the first place. After getting into the cab, he falls asleep and wakes up, incorrectly thinking he told the driver to take him to the bank:

Regardless, in Chapter 3, we learn that Richard Noonan is some sort of government agent, working for the Institute or with law enforcement in some capacity. His mission is to shut down the “flow of materials from the Zone through Harmont”, which is why he has been befriending Stalkers and infiltrating their social circles, monitoring them. His activities include buying artefacts from Stalkers and rerouting them to the Institute:

If you’ve been paying attention, the Stalker which Noonan mentions in the above excerpt, the one he is stringing along and exploiting for his swag, is Creon, the Maltese Stalker which Redrick tried to pay to give up on the profession and go back home in Chapter 1. He persevered, became a successful, and what did it get him? He’s not an adventurer - he’s a pawn, drowning his sorrows in booze, getting closer to death, unaware that he’s being exploited by Noonan.

The worst part of this, which is never said explicitly, but heavily implied, is that the Institute is allowing certain Stalkers to operate because real humans are better, more effective gatherers of artefacts then their officially sanctioned robots. They are supposedly cracking down on this illegal activity, but they don’t mind taking advantage of it while they can:

There’s a sickening duality to it. Officially, Stalkers are criminalised, thrown in jail, ostracised. But behind the scenes, the Institute relies on them to deliver them materials, strings them along and keeps them on their payroll.

(Side note: I’ll let you draw whatever real-life parallels you find applicable. The ones that immediately come to my mind are the US prison-industrial complex and the funding of the the Taliban, but I’m sure you can find many, many more.)

Later, we generally get to see Richard Noonan being a horrid person - beating up a subordinate for having overlooked a group of Stalkers who were sneaking into the Zone without the Institute’s awareness.

Following this, Noonan has his conversation with Valentine Pillman, where the analogy of a “roadside picnic” is used and where the book derives its title. The general message is that we’re completely insignificant. The visitation wasn’t an instance of aliens coming to contact us or conquer us - they were just passing by and accidentally dropped a bunch of their trash on us.

Of course, Pillman qualifies this by saying that this is just his personal theory, and that there is no evidence to support this, or any other interpretation. He points out that to speculate about the motives of non-human beings by applying human psychology to them is folly, and calls xenology a pseudoscience.

For how central this conversation seems to be to the book (it’s in the title, after all), I don’t actually think that it’s a particularly interesting concept. It speaks to a general existential dread many people can probably relate to, being insignificant in the face of the infinitely complex, incomprehensible mechanisms of the cosmos. But it seems quite simple and self-contained, especially compared to the layered, interconnected themes of the rest of the book. It’s quaint.

Much more interesting to me are the things we find out about the artefacts recovered from the Zone. Eternal Batteries, seemingly capable of producing infinite energy, are used to power people’s private cars. Black Sprays, little beads which one theory claims are huge swathes of compressed space, are used to decorate jewelry:

To be blunt, Kirill was wrong. The artefacts from the Zone and the research done by the Institute are not “saving the world”. They’re accomplishing almost nothing. At best, they become the playthings of the wealthy and powerful, while the working class is literally killing themselves in the Zone to acquire them. At worst, they’re causing horrible accidents and killing people, like the Currigan labs incident:

The point of this is to show that fancy new technology does not inherently uproot old systems of injustice and exploitation. Without societal change, even something as reality-shattering as an alien invasion will be slotted into the old way of things. There’s even a passing mention of more luxury accommodations being built in Harmont in response to... tourists:

I saw another Tumblr post tagged with #roadside picnic, complaining about how people are trying too hard to make every soviet novel into something political. Well, I’m sorry. IT IS POLITICAL. You’re just not paying attention. If you disagree, I challenge you to read the above passage about “the suburbs being emptied” and tell me that it’s not trying to communicate anything about the economical systems ruling Harmont.

And if I need to spell it out, the force consuming and destroying the lives of Stalkers is not “the Zone”. It’s capitalism. The characters constantly talk about greenbacks, about needing money. The reason Stalkers need to break the law and risk their lives is either because they have rent to pay, or because they want to become financially stable enough to be free from the coercion of bosses and landlords.

The entire reason Redrick betrays his moral convictions in Chapter 2 is because of money. He leaves the Institute because his job is being automated, his pay is being cut, and he doesn’t want to live paycheck to paycheck. He wants to be free. And finally, he sells the Witches’ Jelly because he has to keep his family fed while he’s stuck in jail.

And if you still think I’m just reading too much into things, seeing what I want to see, I’d like to take you back to Chapter 2 for a few notable passages. Namely, Redrick’s experiences as he is entering the luxury hotel, Métropole:

This is Redrick, talking to a cop. Yes, the police, so eager to harass him in Chapter 1, are suddenly asking him if he’s alright, offering to help, calling him “mister”. So what changed?

Well, he is wearing a suit, holding a suitcase, standing in front of a fancy hotel. They assumed he’s rich. That he’s a respectable citizen, that he’d never need to steal anything.

There’s a genius reversal here - in Chapter 1, Redrick was an honest lab worker, but was profiled and stopped by the police. In Chapter 2, while the cop is trying to help him, he’s on his way to an illegal deal with a suitcase full of contraband. He’s an actual criminal, but he’s treated with kindness, because he looks upper-class.

And if you still somehow think this is all a coincidence, I ask you - why is this scene here? Why was it written? Seriously, it’s such a random moment, a complete non-sequiteur from everything happening beforehand, and I never hear anyone talk about it. Redrick, out of nowhere, begins having strong hallucinations and has to stop to catch his breath. If the key information being conveyed here is “Redrick suffers from hallucinations”, why not just have him catch his breath and move on? Why add this random cop, trying so hard to be helpful?

The answer is simple. It’s not a “random cop”. It’s social commentary on how cops exist to protect and serve the ruling class.

In the hotel itself, we have this moment where Redrick steps into an elevator full of absurdly, comically obnoxious rich people:

If you’ve been ignoring the attached excerpts so far, I urge you to read this one. I cannot adequately summarise how seeping with contempt and revulsion these descriptions are. Redrick closes his eyes to try to “shut out” these people, to not have to look at them. The young boy is eating chocolate, of course, drooling, while his mother has the Black Sprays we talked about earlier on her necklace. This is the privileged, wealthy elite and Redrick HATES them and what they represent. It’s textbook class antagonism.

And this doesn’t just affect Redrick. Returning to Chapter 3, Noonan visits Redrick’s house and speaks to Guta, who tells him about their struggles with Monkey, whose condition had worsened, destroying most of her cognitive abilities:

Noonan is wealthy. He’s one of the people who uses a car powered by an Eternal Battery. He lives in hotels. But more importantly:

Noonan genuinely sympathises with Redrick and Guta’s plight, and the suffering they’re going through because of Monkey’s condition. He genuinely wants to help them, and is ready to, but then remembers his boss. He remembers that his job is not to help the ones who are struggling and need it the most, but to serve the system. To label these people criminals and “infiltrate” them, monitor them, instead of simply befriending them.

Of course, Richard Noonan is an awful person. But we're almost given the sense that, given his position, he doesn’t even have an opportunity to be a good, honest person. When he genuinely feels sympathy for those he exploits, he forces himself to stop and suppresses his good nature. Because that’s what’s expected of him, what his job requires. He’s there to protect the interests of the Institute - the ruling class.

I really hope these examples adequately demonstrate what I believe to be the main political themes of the story, because I’m going to put those aside for a moment and go back to the personal, moral journey of the main character.

The only thing of note left in Chapter 3 is Redrick’s father and his reaction to news of the lab accident.

[UNIFNISHED DRAFT ENDS HERE]

(TRANSLATION NOTE: All quotations are taken from the Antonina W. Bouis translation, despite there being an arguably more accurate translation by Olena Bormashenko. This is out of habit, not preference - I’m more familiar with the Bouis translation, which made searching for quotes easier.)

(Huge thanks to Antonina W. Bouis and later Olena Bormashenko for bringing this book to an anglophone audience, to Irena Lewandowska and Rafał Dębski for translating it to Polish, and to Siergiej Rajkov and Milan Asadurov for doing the same in Bulgarian.)

[sen-no-kotowari]

PGR S Chrome Character Profile

As promised, I'll be releasing character profiles while also releasing S Vera's Interlude Story. First of will be S Chrome. A Chrome's will be posted sometime next week so stay tuned for that! You can read more about him in two of his Interlude Story posted here (A Chrome) and here (S Chrome).

Voice Line Data

Motion Voice Lines

Lobby Voice 1

Chrome: I wonder, maybe there's a more effective way of achieving victory with this strategy... ...Commander? Since when were you here? Oh, please pay no heed to what I'm doing. I'm just thinking back on the mission before.

Lobby Voice 2

Chrome: The top student of FOS Military Academy... Ahaha, I'm just reminiscing for a while. ...It's all right, Commander. Talking about my memories back when I was still human isn't a taboo topic for me, personally speaking. I'm just really glad that I can talk with you like this, and also... that I found something we have in common.

Lobby Voice 3

Chrome: I will do my best, for the sake of being able to walk right alongside you one day...

Raise Affection Level

Chrome: All of the beautiful things in this world... I wish to offer them all to you.

Repetitive Taps

Chrome: You do this every now and then, this...you know... kind of thing, just to see my bothered reactions.

Log-In

Chrome: So you came, Commander. Here is the mission schedule that needs to be finalized. I've marked the ones that need to be prioritized.

Online for a Long Time

Chrome: (Sigh) What must I do for you to obediently get some rest, I wonder...

AFK

Chrome: Commander? Com-man-der? (Sigh) ...you'll catch a cold if you sleep right here.

Shake

Chrome: ...It's another unknown tremor. Commander, be careful!

Offline for a Long Time

Chrome: Welcome back. If something is troubling you, please contact me and I'll immediately come to your help.

Introduction and Formation

Structure Acquired

Chrome: Captain of the Strike Hawk Unit, Chrome, reporting for duty. Starting from now, I will be in-charge of providing support for the Commander's operative missions for a brief period. I look forward to working with you. I am elated to be able to meet you, Commander.

Level Up

Chrome: I wish to practice a life of diligence, without neglecting a single day.

Advancement

Chrome: This, too, is proof of your trust placed in me, therefore I will not betray the expectations you have for me. I thank you for this reward, Commander.

Model Improvement

Chrome: The model's synchronization stability rate has increased. ...With this, I will be able to execute the mission better than before.

Skill Upgrade

Chrome: This has been incredibly worthwhile. Commander, thank you for your instructions.

Equipment

Chrome: Trigger and cylinder, check. Testing the blade's sharpness is also complete. I believe this would be quite useful both offensively and defensively when used correctly in battle.

Add in Team

Chrome: It's time to put the tactics we've talked about before into practice, Commander.

Assign as Captain

Chrome: If I may be presumptuous, I have sent both the Reconnaisance Unit's report as well as the tactical analytics for this mission to your terminal. It'd be most fortunate if it is of help to you, Commander.

Mission Accomplished

Chrome: I hope the results would go just as you have hoped for, Commander.

Daily Small Talks

Voice Line 1

Chrome: The only difference between a human and a Structure is the composition of materials of the body. What's most important is the individual's will residing in a person's body—the only thing remaining after you've removed all of the "flesh."[1]

Voice Line 2

Chrome: I wonder, maybe there's a more effective way of achieving victory with this strategy... ...Commander? Since when were you here? Oh, please pay no heed to what I'm doing. I'm just thinking back on the mission before.

Voice Line 3

Chrome: I've already sent you the information gathered by this upcoming operation's informer, Commander. ...It feels quite different from how it was done up until now, you say? As expected from the Commander, you've noticed such detail. It was actually Kamui who had summarized everything. I think it's about time they should also be involved with work outside of combat because... Oh, it's nothing. More importantly, what are your thoughts about the informer?

Voice Line 4

Chrome: You must avoid pushing yourself too much in order to meet the expectations of other people, Commander. It's okay for you to push forward in the direction you believe in. I will support you in your decision.

Voice Line 5

Chrome: Military simulations, you say...? Indeed, I frequently practice that during my time in FOS, but I haven't done that ever since I've become a Structure. You wish to try it with me? But—... My apologies, if you wish to do so then I'll gladly oblige.

Voice Line 6

Chrome: Is Wanshi using this place to slack again? I deeply apologize for it... No, we don't have any mission as of right now so I don't mean to restrict his movements. I'm just worried that he might be causing you some inconvenience...

Voice Line 7

Chrome: The top student of FOS Military Academy... Ahaha, I'm just reminiscing for a while. ...It's all right, Commander. Talking about my memories back when I was still human isn't a taboo topic for me, personally speaking. I'm just really glad that I can talk with you like this, and also... that I found something we have in common.

Voice Line 8

Chrome: Huh? My hairstyle, you say...? ...I don't have any preferences per se, so I just went with the easiest one I know of. If you say you want to see me in other hairstyles, I'm not reluctant in changing into them, so...

Voice Line 9

Chrome: This? This isn't a work-related document, but a collection of short stories written by an author named Edgar during the Golden Age Era. Are you interested in them, Commander? There aren't any stories that will soothe your tired heart, however... I'll be glad to share with you the impressions we each have of those stories.

Voice Line 10

Chrome: Just a what-if, but if there would come a time a structure suffers damage the same way humans do... Commander, no... Could I call you by your name?

Voice Line 11

Chrome: When did you graduate from FOS, Commander? Oh, I'm just slightly curious about it. If I were still human, would you have been my upperclassman... Or, perhaps you would've been my junior. Just the fact that we both studied at the same institution has made me feel that the classrooms I used to study in, now hold a special meaning for me...

Voice Line 12

Chrome: Consciousness Link truly is a strange invention. To have someone share with you everything together inside the Sea of Consciousness... No, I don't hate it. Well, I don't mind if it's you.

Voice Line 13

Chrome: No matter how far you are, even if I have to brave through the darkest nights and the torrential rains... You are the light that encourages me to move on; the dream that I wish to continuously chase after.

Voice Line 14

Chrome: All of the glory I have, will always be by your side.

Voice Line 15

Chrome: For the sake of being able to walk right alongside you one day... I will devote everything.

Raise Affection Level

Voice Line 1

Chrome: Though Kamui may look like he's being reckless, in reality, he is quite reliable as an ally. Please continue to look after him for a bit longer. If you do, he will surprise us with his growth for sure.

Voice Line 2

Chrome: Thank you very much.

Voice Line 3

Chrome: A familiar tactical deployment? Why of course it is—because it's the tactic you've used before. Although it was a clever tactical maneuver, it's possible to carry out the member's allocation more efficiently. I've discovered another direction of how to do so, so I'd like to have a discussion about this once the mission's over, however... Could I have some of your time, if it's all right?

Voice Line 4

Chrome: You purposedly went out of your way to prepare this, just for me?

Voice Line 5

Chrome: I thought that there might've been a way to become the perfect "Smith." Still, it's the only answer I alone have decided on—not in the form of what my Father wished for it to be, nor is it a perfectly made replica built upon lies. ...That would make me a little too arrogant if I say it like that then.

Voice Line 6

Chrome: Is this, a gift for the support from last time? Wha—Goodness... My apologies for making you go out of your way...

Voice Line 7

Chrome: I think that the meaning of "Smith" for me might have changed greatly, more than the idea of having to oppose becoming a "Smith." If I hadn't met you or everybody from Strike Hawk, maybe I wouldn't have ever been aware of this feeling.

Voice Line 8

Chrome: I must properly prepare something in return, for all of the gifts you've given me.

Voice Line 9

Chrome: You're quite good at listening to other people... I think it's wonderful, Commander. However, if you need someone to listen to you, please don't hesitate. I'll be always here to lend you an ear.

Voice Line 10

Chrome: I wish to see more... Oh, I'm not talking about the gift you gave, rather I'm talking about the smile you made just now. Why? That's because... it's something I truly cherish more than anything else.

Voice Line 11

Chrome: I simply just want to keep looking at you.

Voice Line 12

Chrome: I shouldn't just keep on accepting your feelings without anything in return. I... I must also give something back in return.

Voice Line 13

Chrome: “I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far. As that vast shore wash’d with the farthest sea, I would adventure to search for you.”[2] ...My apologies, I didn't know if I expressed this feeling right...

Voice Line 14

Chrome: All of the beautiful things in this world... I wish to offer them all to you.

Voice Line 15

Chrome: The "Perfect Imitation" is as close as the original would be, yet it will never be as perfect. I've thought of this goal as vexing, but you've changed that definition—it feels like I completely understood all of the answers I've always wanted whenever I look at you.

Voice Line 16

Chrome: I will always stay by your side, now and from here onwards.

AFK

Voice Line 1

Chrome: Commander, I believe the work attitude you're showing is different from how a good leader should be.

Voice Line 2

Chrome: If there aren't any more sortie commands, I wonder if it's all right for me to return to Strike Hawk and do other tasks that need to be done.

Voice Line 3

Chrome: You shouldn't easily show others how defenseless you look, especially during the times I'm not by your side.

Voice Line 4

Chrome: Commander? Com-man-der? (sigh)...you'll catch a cold if you sleep right here.

Voice Line 5

Chrome: If I always look at you like this right now... Uh, no, this isn't... I don't have any important work that needs to be done at the moment.

Online for a Long Time

Voice Line 1

Chrome: Haven't you been working continuously a bit too much as of late? Please manage your schedule wisely.

Voice Line 2

Chrome: Even though I've repeatedly told you this, please be aware of how frightening overworking is.

Voice Line 3

Chrome: We've already been working for quite some time now, any longer than this... Hm? I'm not one to talk, you say? You're human while I am a Structure, that doesn't count. Well then, please get some rest as soon as possible.

Voice Line 4

Chrome: (Sigh) ...What must I do, for you to obediently get some rest?

Voice Line 5

Chrome: You're not meant to shoulder everything all by yourself, so, please... Stop working in such a way that would harm your body in the long run. I'll always stay by your side while you're resting.

Log-In

Voice Line 1

Chrome: It's me, Chrome. I shall be waiting for you right here.

Voice Line 2

Chrome: So much has happened, ever since that time... Yet nothing has changed, save for this war.

Voice Line 3

Chrome: So you came, Commander. Here is the mission schedule that needs to be finalized. I've marked the ones that need to be prioritized.

Voice Line 4

Chrome: You seem to look well today, Commander.

Voice Line 5

Chrome: Am I... the first person you met today? No, it's nothing. I am waiting for your instructions.

Voice Line 6

Chrome: Today feels like it will be a good day.

Voice Line 7

Chrome: I once thought of books as the only place of refuge for my heart. In a way, the notion wrapped around words has been a hopeful existence; it became my mentor not just in my imagination, but it has also brought solace to my heart. Although I immerse myself in each letter and dialogue, it's still a book—it can never satisfy the answer to my questions. ...However, right now I have you here with me.

Voice Line 8

Chrome: Hello there, Commander... I've been waiting for you here this whole time.

Offline for a Long Time

Chrome: Welcome back. If something is troubling you, please contact me and I'll immediately come to your help.

Shake

Voice Line 1

Chrome: ...It's another unknown tremor. Commander, be careful!

Voice Line 2

Chrome: Is this another type of training?

Voice Line 3

Chrome: Was that on purpose just now?

Repetitive Taps

Voice Line 1

Chrome: Eh? What's wrong?

Voice Line 2

Chrome: Uhm, could you please not touch my ears? It feels strange...

Voice Line 3

Chrome: You do this every now and then, this...you know... kind of things to see my bothered reactions.

Activity Task Full

Chrome: Awaiting further instructions. We can depart anytime.

Battle Dialogues

Battle Start/Character Switch

Chrome: If we do not achieve victory, it's meaningless.

Voice Line 1

Chrome: Calm down and think on your feet.

Voice Line 2

Chrome: I expected this attack pattern.

Voice Line 3

Chrome: Please do not leave my field of vision.

Ultimate Skill

Chrome: I shall pave the path towards victory with this!

Light Damage

Chrome: Gh....

Heavy Damage

Chrome: Grragghh... The back-up plan...

Incapacitated

Chrome: I must... quickly stand back up....

Friend Support

Chrome: Arrived at the objective's location, entering offensive support phase.

QTE

Chrome: There's a gap in their defense.

Battle End

Chrome: An outstanding display of tactical prowess, Commander.

Structure Documentation

Document Detail 1

BPE-07, Chrome, an Armored-type Structure. He is the second test model for Eden's mid-term militarized Structure Development Plan. Not only is his model equipped with a specialized Inverse Device, but each part of his model also has undergone a specialized enhancement. The model can perform to maximum output, reaching an overclock state and rapidly cooling itself down afterward.

Document Detail 2

Perhaps it's because of the specialized Inverse Device's function or Strike Hawk's unique operation, Chrome, who simultaneously fights and commands other people, has an exemplary leadership trait compared to ordinary Structure.

Document Detail 3

The new model's concept as well as the direction of its modification are all determined by Chrome himself. Only his Inverse Device will be indiscernible as per John Smith's demand.

Document Detail 4

In terms of the specialized model's characteristics, both its adaptability and adjustment can become tremendously difficult. Chrome was compelled to utilize the new model when he was gravely injured in his fight against an Ascendant. His Sea of Consciousness became successfully stable with the help of the Gray Raven's Commander.

Document Detail 5

Compared to how he was before, Chrome seemed to have gained the confidence to move forward on the path he must take, whether or not he finds himself as a shield or a fortress, or possibly the figure or the interconnecting bridge. He would keep moving forward as a great leader no matter which path he'll take.[3]

Document Detail 6

Chrome holds an understanding and empathy towards the Gray Raven's Commander since he was also a "top student"—because he understands all too well the expectations of those people who give out the order have to shoulder and the weight of their duties. The emotional connection he has yet to notice when it comes to the Gray Raven's Commander is a deep-rooted trust between close-knit friends.

Rumors and Secrets

Secret 1 When it comes to the weapon structure, Chrome prioritizes weapon performance that would counterbalance the model's high mobility and something he can practically use with complete mastery. In reality, handling a prototype weapon as such is definitely difficult.

Secret 2 Chrome sometimes shuts out the information happening around him so he could increase the time he can calmly think.

Secret 3 His top record of the number of backup plans he planned is from A to N.

Secret 4 It seems like Chrome pays attention to occurrences that are "outside protocol" compared to before.

Secret 5 Whenever he faces a problem or an emergency, Chrome still unconsciously takes responsibility for everything. At long last, he slowly turns to the people he trusts and asks for their opinion as well as reaches out to them for help.

Secret 6 The earring accessory Chrome wears is a perception-enhancing device. While Chrome himself was stumped during the design process, it was thanks to a certain person's over-the-top compliments that the design changes were put on hold.

Secret 7 Chrome deeply trusts everyone in his unit, and has adopted a style of leading them without being overly strict and encourages self-growth. Although he stopped trying to be excessive when keeping Kamui's behavior in line if the latter has a reason or plan for doing so, Chrome still feels anxious about Kamui's recklessness deep down.

Secret 8 He occasionally notices that his strict scoldings may have a negative influence on his team members. Chrome seemed to ask Kamui if it was okay and the latter laughed so hard that it left him confused.

Secret 9 Aside from reading, Chrome enjoys playing a variety of games during his downtime. He particularly enjoys chess, but nobody in his unit is interested in that game. On a certain day after he had finished a mission, he once came looking for the Gray Raven's Commander in their private break room with an electronic chessboard in hand.

Secret 10 Chrome only lost against two people in chess.

Secret 11 Whenever Chrome looks for a book in the document storage room, he keenly observes the list of entries in the comment section and has the habit of learning the names of the people who also have the same opinion as he does in their comments. After he remembers their name, he seems to start searching for books those same people choose to read.

Secret 12 He has a special notification ringtone set for the Gray Raven's Commander in the private communications channel.

A callback reference to a particular scene in A Chrome's Interlude, "Flawless One."

The line is originally quoted from Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet" and is a small easter egg from A Chrome's Affection Story.

In reference to A Chrome's Affection Line Number 9

[the-bau-quinjet]

heyyy. I know you’ve been doing marvel a lot, but if you could do one with morgan and the reader? Based on amplification and it’s the reader who gets sick instead. thanks!

Finally

Warnings: some mentions of being sick (cause... you know... anthrax), angst and fluff :)

Word Count: 2735

a/n: My first Morgan fic!! I love him so much! This one took me a while because 1) I feel like I'm not that good at rewriting episodes, and 2) I wanted to get Derek's character right. Hopefully it's not too terrible! I hope you enjoy!! :)

Masterlist

"Rossi, Prentiss head to his office. Morgan, get Reid and L/N from the hospital and check out his house." Hotch instructed as soon as Dr. Nichols was deemed a reasonable suspect.

It wasn't long before you, Reid, and Morgan were pulling up outside of Dr. Nichols house.

"It's clear so far. I'll let you know when we're done checking." One of the CDC techs said through a walkie.

"We should look around a bit." Reid started down the driveway, gesturing for you and Morgan to follow.

"Ow!" You flinched away from the rose bush, shaking your hand in an attempt to lessen the pain.

"You good?" Morgan eyed you, overly concerned about a small scrape.

"I'm fine. Promise." You winked, walking past him and Reid to check for anything out of the ordinary in the backyard.

"I don't understand why you haven't asked her out yet." Reid looked between you and Morgan. Unfortunately, Morgan was saved from answering by the sound of his phone ringing.

"Hey, princess what do you have?" Morgan greeted Garcia, glaring at Reid.

You continued to explore while Derek and Reid talked to Garcia. It wasn't until after you entered the shed-like building that you thought maybe the CDC should check for anthrax out here too.

By then it was too late.

"L/N?" You could hear Morgan calling you. "Y/N!" It was clear him and Reid were approaching the door you just walked through.

You ran back to the sliding glass door, slamming it shut and locking it before either of them could stop you.

"What's wrong?" He frantically ran up to the door.

"Get back! No, don't come any closer." Your eyes flitted between the two agents, landing solely on Derek when you muttered, "I'm sorry."

"Y/N, open the door..." Derek's typically powerful voice nearly broke as he watched you shake your head.

"I can't. I- I'm already exposed." You shook your head resolutely, convincing yourself this was the right move. "I'll look for anything that could help in here. It's the best move."

"Y/N, you need to go to the hospital." Derek put more power behind his words with hopes of convincing you.

"The hospital won't do anything for me. Nichols could've made a cure, and if he did it's probably in here." You tore your eyes from Derek, hoping Spencer would help you convince him. "Reid, tell him I'm right."

He looked conflicted, eyes flitting between you and Derek.

"She's right. The cipro isn't working on anyone infected. Her best chance is to stay in there and find something useful." Reid looked reluctantly at Derek.

"Then you better find a cure in there." Derek whispered, eyes lingering on you before he finally turned away to call Hotch.

-

"Morgan, Reid. How's L/N?" Hotch questioned immediately, forgoing any greeting.

"White powder all over the room and the air was blasting." Morgan responded quickly. He made brief eye contact with Hotch before turning to walk back to the door.

The general barked out instructions for a decontamination team and cordoning off the area.

"Get her in the ambulance." Hotch directed Morgan and Reid.

"She won't." Morgan felt his heart rate increase at the thought of you staying in there any longer. "Said she's more helpful inside than in the hospital."

"Nichols is dead, looks to be about 2-3 days." Reid added on.

Just then Hotch's phone rang.

"L/N?" He answered on speaker.

"I really messed up this time." You let out a dry laugh.

"You need to get to the hospital." Hotch tried to argue.

"I know Morgan and Reid already told you I won't go. There could be answers in here." Your stubbornness was showing. "I need to figure out who killed Nichols."

"Y/N-" You cut Morgan off before he could try to convince you to leave.

"I think he had a partner." You decided to refocus the conversation on the case rather than yourself.

"I'll get Rossi and Prentiss to ask at his office." Hotch sighed in resignation.

"Good, I'll keep looking at everything in here."

You hung up before anyone could argue further. You shoved your phone into your pocket, immediately going back to look through papers and lab equipment around the room.

As you worked inside, you could hear the CDC team setting up outside.

Watching through the windows as people in full hazmat suits prepared to enter the room you were in made everything feel more real.

You pulled your phone swiftly out of your pocket dialling the number you knew by heart.

"Hi." Garcia's voice was quiet when she answered the phone.

"No funky greeting? I'm feeling a little jipped." You tried to joke with her, but it fell flat.

"I can't be my normal, bubbly self when you are where you are." Again, her voice was quiet.

"Garcia, can you do something for me?" Your voice was steady, masking the emotion about to pour out of you.

"What? Tell me what to do and I'll do it." She frantically moved around her desk, ready to do anything you requested.

"You know how a few weeks ago, you were joking about my crush on Morgan?" You asked slowly.

"The one you swore didn't exist? I remember." Her voice was laced with confusion at your topic change.

"Well, um, do you think you could record a message for him?" Your breaths were unsteady as you thought about saying goodbye.

"But you're gonna be fine." She spoke with authority, as if saying it made it true.

"I know, but, um... just in case. I want him to hear it at least once." Your voice broke.

"Okay. Um, whenever you're ready." She listened as you spoke to Derek.

"Hi Derek. Um, I kind of have a secret to tell you, but first I want you to know this isn't your fault. I'm the idiot who walked into the lab. It's on me. I guess I just want to make sure you hear this from me at least once." You cleared your throat, thick from emotion.

"I, uh, I think I'm maybe, just a little bit, um... in love with you." You felt the tears fall from your cheeks. "You're my best friend. You've always been there for me when cases hit a little too close to home or even if I'm just having a bad day. You never fail to make me smile, no matter how hard I'm trying not to."

You wiped at your cheeks roughly, trying to focus on the message.

"I've wanted to tell you for a while, but I never knew how. I guess I'm glad I walked in here for one reason. It finally pushed me to tell you how I feel."

You chuckled again, but there was no humor in it.

"I'm, ah, I'm really sorry if this is goodbye." You paused, unsure if you had anything left to say.

"Y/N?" Garcia questioned if you were still on the line.

"Prep the victim for transfer." You could hear Dr. Kimura entering the room, preparing to begin treating you.

"I've got to go." You hung up without another word, trying to rid your face of any evidence of the tears before facing the doctor.

"How are you feeling?" She questioned once you were in view.

"I'm actually feeling okay." You nodded, trying to convince yourself it was true. She eyed you like she didn't believe you, but nodded with you anyway.

"Alright, how can I help?"

You spent the next few minutes explaining Dr. Nichols profile. Dr. Kimura set off to look for the cure while you continued trying to figure out who killed Nichols.

-

"L/N, stick with me." Morgan's voice sounded through your phone, drawing your attention away from the stack of papers in your hand. "Prentiss and Rossi don't think the partner is from work."

"Okay, um..." You went back to the bigger desk. "He's got course syllabi and outlines dating back to the 80s." You glanced around the room, eyes catching on the other desk.

"A student..." You trailed off, mind moving a mile a minute.

"Talk to me." Morgan drew your attention again.

"Derek, I think it's a student. There's two desks, different organization on both. The smaller one has what looks like a dissertation that Nichols could've been grading. He wouldn't open his lab to a scientist, but he might for educational purposes." You prattled on, more and more information fitting the theory.

"I'll get Garcia to look at science students." Morgan gestured for Hotch to call Garcia. He was about to hang up when you corrected him.

"Wait! The paper, it's more about social policies surrounding an anthrax attack, not the actual science of it." You spoke quickly, trying to hold in an impending cough.

"Okay, political science and social studies majors then." Morgan trailed off, waiting for your response.

"Good. That's good." You coughed slightly, listening to the sound of his breathing.

"Garcia's got a match." Hotch nodded to Morgan before heading toward the SUVs.

"Y/N, you got everything you could in there. Now get the hell out." He practically begged.

"Sure thing, Derek. Bye." You hung up right as Dr. Kimura walked back toward you.

"His inhaler! It could have the cure, right?" She looked to you for approval.

-

"They're checking out Brown's house." Derek watched as they hosed you down.

"Go help them." You coughed slightly, wincing at the cool water.

"They've got plenty of help. I'm staying with you." His eyes never left yours.

"Please." You looked him in the eye. "They're about to strip me naked and hose me down. As much as I know that's something you want to see, I don't think I look my best right now." You joked, watching the way he averted his eyes slightly.

"Y/N, I-" You cut him off again.

"I know." You smiled softly, gesturing for him to go. "Now go help catch him." You kept your eyes on him until he was out of sight.

Turning back to the conversation happening in front of you, you watched as Dr. Kimura instructed another hazmat team member to get the inhaler tested for the cure.

"It makes sense for the inhaler to have the cure." Your mind felt fuzzy as you thought it over. You moved to grab your head, something catching the attention of the doctor.

"Agent L/N, did you cut your hand?" You glanced at your hand, remembering the rose bush outside. You nodded, eyes widening ever so slightly at the now blistering cut on your hand.

"Let's move." You were quickly cleaned of any lingering traces of anthrax before she directed you into the waiting ambulance. "Are you still feeling fine?" She questioned while taking your vitals.

"I'm doing great. I flea foon. I fill fon." You muttered, eyes rolling back in your head.

"Driver, faster!" She called to the front of the ambulance as you started coughing blood.

-

"Are you eating my jello?" You cleared your throat as you eyed Derek sitting next to your bed.

"Yes I am." He stared directly into your eyes as he ate another spoonful.

"Well, is there more?" You pouted, eyes still lingering on the cup in Derek's hands. He laughed in response.

"What happened?" You slowly moved to sit up, eyes flitting around the various machines in your room.

"The cure was in the inhaler. The other patients are in recovery, and you are going to be just fine." The way he smiled when he said 'just fine' had your heart aching. He just looked so relieved.

"Brown?" You continued your line of questioning.

"We got him. It's over." Derek's soft smile remained, eyes flitting around your body as if he were making sure you were actually okay.

"Well, that's a relief." You took a deep breath. "There's actually something I want to tell you."

He raised a brow, a small smirk playing at the edges of his mouth.

"Oh, yeah? Does Garcia know anything about this?"

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks, eyes widening in horror that he had already heard the message. "Oh, um, I mean, technically yes. I didn't- I wouldn't have told her before you if I didn't think I might die!" Your voice was rising in pitch, panic surging through your body.

"Woah, babygirl, slow down." His previous smirk shifted into another look of concern, although he still let out a small chuckle. "She just told me to ask you about a message. That's all."

"Oh." Your mouth stayed in the 'o' shape for longer than necessary, your body's way of stalling what you were about to say. "You haven't heard the message?"

"Nope." He said with a pop. "Care to enlighten me?"

"Well, I guess I have to since you brought it up." You rolled your eyes, messing with him.

"Hey, now! You started it." He clearly had you beat, so you just blurted it out.

"I think I love you!" You threw your hands over your mouth, eyes wide now that you'd confessed to your best friend that you're in love with him.

"That's what the message said. I thought- I mean there was a strong possibility that I was going to die. I didn't want that to happen without me having told you how I actually feel."

Your eyes were focused on the edges of the hospital blanket where your fingers were twisting a loose thread.

"Can I hear it?" His question confused you, causing you to look at him with a furrowed brow. "The message I mean?"

You nodded slowly, texting Garcia to see if she could send it to you. The chime of a text coming in happened almost instantly. You didn't hesitate to hit play on the recording.

"Hi Derek. Um, I kind of have a secret to tell you, but first I want you to know this isn't your fault. I'm the idiot who walked into the lab. It's on me. I guess I just want to make sure you hear this from me at least once.

I, uh, I think I'm maybe, just a little bit, um... in love with you. You're my best friend. You've always been there for me when cases hit a little too close to home or even if I'm just having a bad day. You never fail to make me smile, no matter how hard I'm trying not to.

I've wanted to tell you for a while, but I never knew how. I guess I'm glad I walked in here for one reason. It finally pushed me to tell you how I feel.

I'm, ah, I'm really sorry if this is goodbye."

The message cut off abruptly at that point.

You could feel your heart pounding as if it were trying to escape your chest.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize it sounded so sad." You smiled, though your eyes were watery. "I mean, I guess it makes sense since I thought you would only hear it if I died." You continued rambling, eyes looking anywhere but at Derek.

"Y/N?" He prevented you from muttering any other embarrassing words.

"Yeah?" You winced, trying to prepare yourself for his rejection.

"I love you too."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said any-" You abruptly stopped, the words you heard finally catching up with your brain.

"You- you love me too?" You whispered, eyes finally meeting his.

"I do." His smile was wider than you've ever seen, and so, so pure.

"Oh." Your mind was having a hard time comprehending the gravity of what just happened. Luckily for you, Derek knew exactly what was going on when he leaned in to kiss you.

It took a second for your body to respond, but as soon as it did you could feel the butterflies swarming in your stomach.

Despite how new it was, everything felt right in the world when you were kissing Derek Morgan.

He only pulled back when you gently pushed him away, a wide smile on your face as you sucked in deep breaths of air. The two of you stared at each other lovingly, just enjoying the presence of one another.

The sound of a throat clearing coming from the doorway shocked you out of your trance. Reid stood leaning against the doorframe, a smirk on his face. He uttered one word, perfectly encapsulating your own feelings on the situation.

"Finally."

permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman @madewithsebstan @sebastnstn

Criminal Minds tag list:

@mac99martin @goldeng1rl8 @measure-in-pain

[shotorozu]

hi lovely, i hope u doing well (if not i hope things get better for u). if it’s not too much trouble could you do some fluffy domestic hcs w shinsou? have a good day!!

being domestic

character(s) : shinsou hitoshi (bnha)

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns, quirk not mentioned, pro hero au because,, domestic life.

headcanon type : fluff, like.. a lot of it (x reader)

note(s) : idk why i haven’t done this yet even though it’s been requested a bunch of times (it most likely got buried) so sorry for the delay! anyway, i’ll be posting something later, i just wrote this bc i had extra time

also, i had to search up what domestic was 💀 IM SORRY 😭 I DIDNT GROW UP WITH ANY MODEL EXAMPLE

➽───────────────❥

shinsou hitoshi

since this is like,, a pro hero au

i must say that i headcanon hitoshi to be a night time/underground hero— gotta take advantage of the insomnia, am i right?

he spends most of his day indoors, probably doing extra unfinished paper work, resting, and other miscellaneous stuff.

if he’s graced with luck, you’ll also be staying inside with him— and he’ll be practically leeching onto you (at least until 8pm, when he needs to grind on that pro hero work)

but if you’re out, you’re probably doing your own thing— depending if you’re also a pro hero just maybe not the night shift type of hero or a regular citizen

if you’re a pro hero and if you want— he’ll make you lunch in his apron, that most likely has a cat print embroidered on it and he’ll deliver the lunch at your agency when lunch break hits

if you’re a citizen, he’ll do the same thing as mentioned above— but he’ll probably do it as a surprise if he knew you had absolutely nothing to eat for lunch

so! with that being said, the chances of you seeing hitoshi during the time period of 9:30pm to 4am is kinda rare

even though hitoshi does try to make the most of his time with you

to make up for his absence during the night, he’ll leave his very oversized hoodies around the house for you to wear

or better yet, he’ll just hang his sweater around your shoulders as he kisses you goodbye :,)

and if the streets are calmer, he’ll even drop by your shared apartment/house just to say hello

or just so he could sneak in bed and cuddle with you, he’s touch starved

speaking of hitoshi being an insomniac, when he’s on his off days— he’ll spend the night just,, looking at you. it has always been a habit of his.

even though you beg him not to do that because sleep is very important

like it might sound strange but i promise it’s not. you’ll either be laying on his lap, or resting in his arms as you slept

and he’ll just, trace his hands over your features. it’s calming to him.

but when you’re staying up with him, the situation is definitely different.

sometimes it’ll be another intense cuddle session while you guys watched a mukbang or a tv show you both really like

and sometimes, the both of you guys will be up at like,, 3 am, just browsing cat pictures

and it’ll just be the two of you discussing about what breed you guys want to adopt even if you already have a cat, hitoshi thinks that another one wouldn’t hurt you both

“Y/N, what about this cat? looks cute, right?” “hitoshi, that’s a persian cat. very high maintenance.” “we can handle it.”

cat discussions aside, the times the both of you actually get a good night rest is heavenly.

the first thing you’ll see is hitoshi laying right next to you, his hold tightens when you try to leave the bed for the bathroom/kitchen

and ultimately, your movements cause him to wake up, causing hitoshi to haul you towards him closer than ever.

he’s the one that makes breakfast usualky, so when you’re sitting down after setting up the table

you just,,

GAWK AT HIS BACK

his back profile is top tier. and he knows it, why? because he’ll cook breakfast shirtless omg

and the rest of the day will be spent taking impromptu naps, watching documentaries, and making interesting debates

this purple haired boyfriend of yours takes care of the spiders and cockroaches. sometimes he’ll murder kill them whenever they start flying, or if it manages to crawl onto you

most of the times, he’ll just grab a broom and sweep them outside.

whenever you wash the dishes, he’ll sneak up behind you, and cuddle you— holding you by the waist as he takes in your scent

practically does the same whenever you do laundry, and encourages you to do the same whenever he does the laundry/dishes

hops in the shower whenever you’re in the shower— and offers to wash your back when you can’t reach that one pesky spot

or he’ll just sit on the toilet as you do your thing, handing you things like your shampoo, or your body wash whenever you ask

and it never gets uncomfortable, since you can practically tell when he enters the bathroom and you can always kick him out if you didn’t want him there

plus, he has no malice intent. your house is a safe place, and he wants you to feel at peace in your own bathroom— let alone house

so in short? domestic shinsou hitoshi is life <3

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission

[badboyjuyeon]

me plus you

Pairing: Eric x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: You have to tutor Eric in calculus, but you’re struggling in calculus and Eric doesn’t actually need help.

This was not happening. You rubbed your eyes again as if that was going to change the 0/100 that you received from missing your latest calculus quiz. It didn’t matter how many A’s you got in your past quizzes, a zero would definitely damage your grade. You shoved the test in your bag and made your way towards the teacher’s desk. 

“I missed yesterday’s class so I had no idea that I missed this quiz. Is there any way that I can make this up?” You asked your teacher, hoping that she might spare some pity and excuse this quiz. This was out of character for a straight-A student like yourself and you knew that she had a soft spot towards you. 

“Unfortunately, it was a unit quiz and you missed it. If you read the syllabus, it explicitly states that there are no make-up opportunities...” She began in a stern voice which eventually turned softer when she noticed the panicked look on your face. “...But knowing how you have always done well in this class, I would be willing to offer extra credit if you join the tutoring center.” 

“Consider it done!” You gave your best fake smile as you tried not to think of all the free time you were about to lose. It was your fault, after all, for sleeping in on the day you knew you would have the quiz. Maybe you turned off your alarm because you were struggling in the last few classes and scared to receive a failing grade. Maybe you closed your eyes for “five more minutes” because you didn’t know how to ask for help since you’ve never needed to before. 

As you turned to leave, you noticed Eric Sohn push his way from the back of the classroom. He avoided eye contact with the teacher as if that would make him invisible.

“Eric I would like to meet with you.” Your teacher called out to him as he had one foot out of the doorway. 

“Aww man, I was so close to escaping.” He muttered under his breath. You bit back a smile at his comment and watched him step back into the classroom. You brushed past him as you left to go sign up for the tutoring center. Eric envied you for being able to walk free, while he was going to be stuck getting yelled at. 

“Eric, you’ve been failing all of the recent quizzes. I spoke with your coach and we agreed that you can’t play on the team unless your grades improve.” She shook her head in disappointment. 

Eric could not believe what he was hearing. All his practice would have gone towards nothing. He could feel his dreams of becoming a professional baseball player slip away, all because of this one stupid class. “I promise I’ll do better on the next one, just please let me stay on the team.” 

Your teacher sighed, “You said that the last time. You still haven’t taken up my recommendation of going to the tutoring center. Another peer might be able to help you better. If your next few grades improve after tutoring, then we’ll talk.” 

Eric headed towards the library during his lunch period, which he never would have done under any other circumstance. He preferred to be outside playing basketball with his friends than being cooped up in the library. After signing his name, he sat down on an empty table and waited to be assigned to a tutor. When he tried to look for another familiar name on the tutor list, he noticed yours scribbled neatly with your perfect font-like handwriting. You’ve probably never failed a quiz in your life, let alone the past few quizzes. Eric groaned. How did he let himself slip up in this class? He had a pretty high GPA, but this class was dragging it down from its highest potential. 

He flipped through the notebook he dedicated to calculus and was met with empty pages. If only he didn’t stay up late studying for his other classes, he would have been able to pay attention during this class. But resting his eyes always seemed like a much better option. 

“Eric? Hi, I’ll be your new calc tutor.” Eric looked up to see you pull out the seat across from him. He let out a sigh of relief because you were not a complete stranger and you always got the highest grades. He would be back on the team in no time. He shot you a smile and his eyes formed crescent moons.

You returned his smile but it was only momentary, and it left as quickly as it came. “Can I tell you a secret?” You fidgeted with your fingers. 

Eric was unsure of what to make of your sudden question. He nodded his head to encourage you to continue. 

“I have no idea what’s going on in class.” You admitted to him, though this was not something you told anyone else. 

Eric let out a laugh, you had to be joking. “Don’t you need an A in this class to be a tutor?” 

“Yeah, I just always get my work done on time. My grade doesn’t reflect my understanding of the material but how well I can cheat on all of my assignments.” Upon seeing his confused face, you chose to elaborate. “I usually use photomath, that’s the only way I’ve been passing.” 

Eric’s mouth parted in shock. Why didn’t he think of using that app himself? He also couldn’t believe that you were struggling in that class. “Then I’m not crazy, she just really can’t teach. That’s why I haven’t been understanding anything.” 

“It’s not you, it’s her.” You assured him. “But can I still ‘tutor’ you because that would be the only way to make up for my last quiz?” You hoped that your desperation wasn’t too obvious. 

Eric studied your face, he never had any chance to talk to you this long. Your features were tainted with stress. He could tell that your grades mattered and that he was the only person that could help you. It wouldn’t hurt to spend a little time outside of class with you, it’s not like he had baseball practice to take away his free time. 

“Sure, I’m going to need these lessons to explain why I’m suddenly going to do amazing in this class after I start using photomath.” 

Your face lit up when you heard him accept and it was enough to ensure that he made the right choice. 

“How bad did you do on the last quiz?” Eric still couldn’t believe that you were not the nerd that he thought you were. Teachers always used your work for examples of model work and that was the only impression he had of you prior to this tutor session.

“I got a 0 because I missed class that day.” You looked away in embarrassment. The bright red 0 was still easily visible on your crumpled-up test. 

Eric placed his test marked with 65/100 next to yours. “Well I didn’t pass even though I was in class, so we can try to work on it together.”

You flipped to the chapter that the quiz was on and turned the textbook sideways so that he could also see. The library was mainly empty save for you two because the weather was nice and everyone would much rather go outside for lunch. Your table was positioned right near the window, and Eric had the perfect view of all of his friends playing baseball on the school field. He could have been there if he didn’t slack off this bad. 

No matter how many times you read the page, you still couldn’t quite get the concept down. No other class had you stuck like this one. While you were stuck rereading, Eric started attempting the first problem on his quiz. He finished in a matter of seconds and you took out photomath, a calculator app that solves literally everything, to check if it’s the same answer. 

You couldn’t hide the look of shock on your face when the answer on your screen matched the one on his paper. “Eric I didn’t know that you were a genius. You have to teach me how to do this.” 

Eric’s face also matched yours as he was also surprised at himself. He never even thought to attempt the problems before. 

“I don’t really know what I did.” He confessed but tried to walk you through his thought process. Hearing him explain the steps allowed you to think of the problem in an entirely different way and it was the only thing you needed to understand how to solve it. Your face still expressed the initial shock, but now you felt more impressed than surprised. 

Eric laughed at the irony, here he was tutoring you instead of the other way around. “I’ll have you know that just because I’m a sports guy doesn’t mean that I’m an airhead.” 

“And having A’s doesn’t exactly mean that I’m a nerd. I knew you weren’t an airhead, but sleeping during class didn’t exactly make you look the smartest.” You teased him, before asking him the real question that was plaguing your mind. “You picked it up so quickly, why did you fail the last few quizzes?” 

He switched his gaze from the paper to look straight into your eyes. “Honestly, I didn’t have any motivation to actually do the quizzes. I thought that I was screwed since I kept sleeping during class. And I have to sacrifice some classes to do better in the rest.” He answered, before moving on to the next problem. 

With him facing towards the paper, you took note of his perfect side profile. His eyebrows were furrowed as he thought about how to solve the question. Wow, his jawline was sharp and you were getting sidetracked.

Using his method, you were able to breeze through the problems. You were the type of student to follow the book, word for word, while Eric was the opposite. He was carefree and just did what he felt like, and it worked. You would’ve never thought to experiment like he did but it was exactly what you needed to do. 

“Wait I don’t get how to do these last few problems.” He interrupted you from your thoughts and you leaned closer to get a better view of the problem. You checked the steps to solve the problem from photomath and figured out how to solve it. 

While you were explaining the problem to him, Eric suddenly became aware of the short proximity between the two of you. His eyes traced your features and they subconsciously drifted towards your lips. He wondered whether they felt as soft as they looked, in a totally platonic way, of course. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. 

“That’s why you use this- Eric? Were you even listening?” You turned to face him after he stopped being responsive. Eric felt the blood rush to his cheeks. He quickly scanned the paper and pretended that he was paying attention all along. “Yeah I was listening, I understand it.” 

You spent the rest of the period working together to get through the quiz. You two were in your own world and you wouldn’t have noticed how much time went by if the library didn’t become loud, signaling the end of the period, as students transitioned between classes. The period never felt this short. 

“We are quite the team,” Eric said as you packed up your things. 

“Surprisingly, we are. Let’s meet up again at the same time next week.” You waved at him and rushed to get to your next class. 

“See you in class.” Eric watched as you left the library and looked forward to the next time he would see you.

Upon entering calculus class the next day, Eric searched for your face. He found you sitting in your usual seat near the window. Your head was down on the desk, unaware that he was approaching you. 

“Is this seat taken?” You lifted your head to see Eric gesturing to the seat next to you. You shook your head, confused as to why he decided to sit next to you instead of the back of the classroom. 

You didn’t have to worry about saving a seat for a friend because calculus was the one class that you didn’t share with any friends. You didn’t realize it until now but none of the boys you saw Eric hang out with were in this class either. At least you two would have each other now.

“Isn’t it easier to sleep in the back of the classroom?” You questioned.

“It is, but it's easier to cheat- I mean learn next to you.” He said with a cheeky grin. 

Your teacher walked in, cutting off your small talk. 

You took out your calculus textbook and notebook while you waited for the teacher to begin. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Eric scribble something on the last page of his notebook. When the teacher turned around to write on the chalkboard, he slid his notebook over to you and tapped you. 

i forgot my textbook in my locker, can i look over on yours? 

You pushed your textbook towards him and positioned it in between you two. He mouthed a quick “thanks.” 

Your teacher began explaining the new concept and you almost forgot about Eric’s presence next to you as you copied down everything that was on the board. 

“Wait, is that a four or a nine?” You whispered, trying to decipher the messy handwriting. When you heard no response from Eric, you turned to look at him for the first time since class had started. Eric’s head was resting on the palm of his hand and his eyes were closed shut. He did not just leave you to fend for yourself. You nudged his hand and his head fell onto the desk with a loud thud. 

Your teacher briefly turned around to call out whoever was interrupting her lesson but you resumed writing and Eric pretended to read the textbook page extremely closely. After she faced the board again, Eric raised his eyebrows at you, as if to ask why you disrupted his sleep. Not wanting to draw attention again, you passed him a note.

pay attention if you want the teacher to like you, trust me it works.

easier said than done, teacher’s pet.

Eric waited for you to read his note before he stuck his tongue out at you. 

You were going to deny being the teacher’s pet when you were interrupted by Hyunjae, who sat on your other side. “Can you help me with number 1?”

“Uh sure.” You responded, despite wanting to work with Eric. You glanced back at Eric, but he began working on the new problem set by himself. 

Though Eric’s eyes were focused on the paper in front of him, his ears couldn’t help but listen to your conversation with Hyunjae.  

“You’re a lifesaver, thank you so much. Can I pay you back with bubble tea after school?” Hyunjae gave you a flirtatious smile. 

Eric’s grip on his pen tightened. He convinced himself that he was only annoyed because he didn’t know how to solve the problem.

“I would never say no to free bubble tea.” You checked to see if Eric was listening from your peripheral vision once again, but he seemed to be disinterested. You weren’t sure why you kept looking back at Eric, maybe you wanted to see if he would object. Or maybe you wanted him to object. But he made no such move to stop you. 

Hyunjae beamed. “Great, let’s meet up after class. And maybe we can study for the next test together?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Were you just trying to bribe me with bubble tea?”

Eric’s head was facing downwards as he tried to hide his feelings of betrayal. The nerve Hyunjae had to steal his study partner. 

“And if I was?” Hyunjae challenged.

“That was a smart way to bribe me, you might not even need to study with how smart you are.” You answered. 

Eric slammed his pen down, causing you and Hyunjae to look at him. 

“Oops, it slipped.” He blurted, feeling satisfied because he interrupted Hyunjae. 

The bell rang and you rushed to copy down the homework into your planner. 

“Do you want to work on the homework together?” Eric suggested while packing up his things. “I didn’t know how to do the third set of problems.” He added in, hoping that it would convince you to work together. 

“I don’t know, I’m in high demand these days. Everyone wants to study with me.” You flaunted. Of course you would study with him, you just wanted to make him work for it. Eric rushed to follow you out of the classroom.

“Pretty please.” He pouted and gave you puppy eyes. You snorted at his attempt of acting cute, which he didn’t even need to do since he was naturally cute. 

“Okay fine, but only if you stop doing that hideous face.” You stopped to open your locker. 

Eric leaned on the locker next to yours and crossed his arms. “No one can resist this sexy face.” 

“Yeah okay.” You replied in a sarcastic tone, though you secretly agreed with him. You took a pen out of your locker and grabbed his hand. Eric held his breath and watched to see what you would do next. You wrote your phone number on the palm of his hand. “Text me. Or facetime me, whatever works for you.” You shut your locker and headed to your next class.

Eric stared at your number on his hand and smiled to himself, his heart still racing from when you touched him. 

While you walked away, you felt proud that you were able to pull that move off. But then the color drained from your face. You never said what time. The power rested entirely on Eric and when he decided to contact you. That means that you would have to wait and possibly be camera-ready all day. 

As soon as Eric got home from school, he entered your phone number and saved your contact. He wondered whether he would seem too eager if he texted you right away. You were probably still studying with Hyunjae. Eric scoffed as he thought about how Hyunjae was there instead of him. 

You stared at the black screen on your phone. Tapping on it for the millionth time, the screen read 8:15 pm. Why didn’t you specify a time? You dived for your phone every time you saw your phone light up with a notification. 

Was he even going to facetime you? You glanced around your room in horror. You weren’t able to fix it when you rushed out of the house this morning. You could not let Eric see this mess. You got to work fixing your room while you waited for him to text you. Hearing the familiar vibration, you reached for your phone, hoping it wasn’t another spam email. 

hey, it’s eric. are you free to ft and work on the hw rn? 

Eric sent the text and threw his phone on the bed. He had spent 15 minutes debating whether his text was too casual. Hugging his pillow, he anxiously waited for you to respond. 

yea i’m free

You checked your room once again to see if anything was out of place. Then you saw your reflection in the mirror. You were so caught up in fixing your room, you forgot to fix your appearance. You quickly applied something on your lips so you wouldn’t look too bad. 

After sitting down in front of a lamp so you would have optimal lighting, you picked up his facetime call. 

“Hey.” You felt your breath hitch in your throat. His hair was still wet from the shower he took just earlier. You didn’t think it was possible for him to get any hotter. 

“So how was your date with Hyunjae.” He didn’t even try to hide the bitterness in his tone. Wow, real smooth Eric. He should’ve waited a bit longer to bring it up, but he couldn’t help it. 

You laughed at his choice of a conversation starter. “It wasn’t a date, and it was actually very fun. Maybe I need to start charging you for my services. I’ll only accept payment with bubble tea from now on.” 

“Spending quality time with me is your payment.” He replied with a smug look on his face.

You shook your head. “That is not enough, I fear.” 

Eric crossed his arms and tried to look offended. “I’ll hang up right now then.” 

“Need I remind you that you were the one that begged me to help you today?” You spoke matter-of-factly. “But if you must leave, go. I’m very busy you know.” 

“Busy studying with other guys? I thought we had something special.” He dramatically clutched his heart. 

“You wish, you are yet another one of my side hoes.” 

“Your main hoe being boba?” He raised an eyebrow.

You paused to think of a witty response. “It seems you are more interested in my love life than those calculus problems you needed help with.” 

“Those problems can wait.” He shrugged his shoulders. 

“Fine, how about this? For every problem you get correct, you can ask me a question and I’ll answer it honestly.” You proposed. 

Eric smiled widely. “I like how you think. And what happens if I get them wrong?” 

“Then I get to ask you a question.” You replied. 

“You won’t be able to ask me any questions.” His cockiness was apparent from how confidently he spoke. “The first solution is 5.” 

Checking the answer to the first problem, you confirmed that it was 5.

“Since this is about your love life, do you have a boyfriend?” He asked, desperately wanting you to say no. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know? Yes, I do have one.” You watched for Eric’s reaction. Eric’s smile dropped for a split second as he registered what you said. 

“Oh really? Who? Do I know him?” He interrogated, completely dropping his previous act. 

You felt amused watching him squirm. “That’s three other problems you have to get right.” 

To your surprise, Eric continued to get the next three problems correct.

“So who is your boyfriend?” He phrased carefully.

“Hyunjae.” You said with a straight face.

Eric’s eyes grew 10 times the size they were. “Really?”

“Nah, I’m just playing. I don’t have a boyfriend.” You finally revealed the truth. 

That definitely made Eric happier than he’d like to admit. 

“You just made me waste two questions.” He emphasized by holding up two fingers. 

“Did you even need help with those problems Eric?” 

“Yes...but I figured them all out while you were flirting with Hyunjae.” He looked away from the screen. 

“I was not flirting with Hyunjae.” You lied. You did flirt a little, but that was only because you wanted to see if Eric got jealous. 

Eric rolled his eyes, not believing you. “Sure you weren’t.” 

“You have not seen me flirt, believe me, you would know.” You told him honestly. If you were going to flirt with anyone, it would be him. 

Eric’s smile returned once again. “I look forward to seeing that.” 

You and Eric fell into a routine where you met up every week to study calculus. And then facetimed after school. And then texted at night. You would work together during class, and Eric would get annoyed every time Hyunjae tried to join. 

You and Eric were prepared for the next calculus quiz and your efforts paid off. As soon as Eric got his quiz back, his first thought was to see the look on your face when he told you his grade.

At the end of class, Eric proudly dangled his quiz in front of your face, he couldn’t contain the smile on his face. 

You saw a large A on the top of the first page and you pulled him into a hug. Before you could regret acting so spontaneously, Eric hugged you back just as tightly. This was the first time you both hugged, but it felt so comforting and you didn’t want to let go. “Wow I’m so proud of you, I can’t believe you’re scoring higher than me.” You said when you finally pulled away.

“I’m coming for your throne.” Eric winked at you.

After consistently doing well in the classwork, Eric realized that he didn’t need help anymore. The tutoring sessions eventually became an excuse to meet you. 

Eric pointed at a problem, his eyes trained on yours, “Can you explain this to me?” 

“Eric, you literally taught me how to solve this.” You giggled.

“Oh, did I? Um...well I forgot. Explain it to me again?” You could never resist Eric’s puppy-dog eyes. The more time you spent with him, the more you realized how cute he was. 

“Graph this equation.” Eric had randomly said one day while you were studying at the library. 

You stared at the equation he wrote and looked back at him with confusion. “How is this relevant to calculus?”

“Just do it.” He whined. 

You reached for your graphing calculator and entered the equation. 

Staring at the shape the equation produced, you were pleasantly surprised to see that it resembled...“A heart?” 

You looked up to see Eric grinning from ear-to-ear, clearly proud that he was able to find this equation.

“Very cute Eric. This is why you urgently needed to meet up today?” You raised an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, that and I needed to talk to you about something else. My coach told me that the improvement in my grades is enough for me to rejoin the team.” Eric started, unsure of whether he should tell you that he didn’t need tutoring anymore. 

“Oh really? That’s great news!” You kept your eyes focused on the paper. You knew that him joining the team would mean your tutoring sessions would have to come to an end soon. “I’m guessing you won’t have time to study anymore.”

Eric knew that he wanted to see you every day, but he didn’t want to pretend that he only wanted to meet you under the pretense of studying. He took a deep breath before speaking. You brought your eyes to meet his when you realized that something must have been up. Eric was never quiet for this long. 

“I was wondering if you wanted to continue meeting up outside of school hours, just us two,” Eric asked hesitantly, waiting for your response. 

Your eyes widened. Was he asking you out? It’s not a complete reach because you two have been spending a lot of time “studying.” You were afraid that you were taking his words in the wrong way. “You want to study outside?” 

“Oh...no, no studying. It would just be us meeting up outside, no calculus.” He looked at the floor. 

“Eric Sohn, are you asking me out on a date?” You asked him. 

“Only if you’re comfortable with that. I’ve liked you for a while and I didn’t really need help anymore but I still want to see you often. I understand if you don-”

You cut off his rambling with a kiss. You resisted the urge to laugh at how red his ears were when you pulled away. “I like you too. Finally you can buy me my long-deserved boba.” 

[plsimsuchasimp]

gone (cheating ft. kenma)

an anon asked me to write another version of this post, so here it is. i’m sorry about this, it’s definitely not my best work.

request: “Can you do another cheating fic but with kenma since he is my favorite character”

genre: angst

ft: kenma kozume x gn reader, a little bit of kuroo tetsuro

wc: 1.8k

warnings: fainting, angst, implied cheating

Flopping down on your bed, you picked up your phone and shot off a quick text message to your boyfriend, Kenma.

“hey babe, can we call? it’s been a really long week and I haven’t seen you in forever,” you wrote, pressing the send button with only a moment’s hesitation. 

Sighing, you scrolled upwards a bit, reading through the message history. Recently, his texts had been getting shorter and more abrupt, often making excuses when you asked to see him or talk to him.

1 new message. Distracted, you scrolled down to see Kenma’s text. 

“sorry can’t i was just about to sleep”

Frowning, you glanced at the top of the screen. 10:53 pm. He never went to bed this early, let alone slept. Your throat constricted, but you tried to brush it off, the thoughts whispering at the back of your head like malicious pixies, insecurities and harsh words. You stared at the simple string of words, wondering what to say. Are you okay? you’ve seemed off recently. No, you were probably just overthinking it.

“okay, have a good night! ily” Read 10:57 pm. No response.

Putting the phone down, you tried to push it to the back of your thoughts, but it nagged at you. Turning on your PC, you logged onto discord and noticed Kenma’s status. He was playing a multiplayer game, in a VC with one other person. Right-clicking, you ignored the feeling of distrust and clicked on the other player’s profile. 

You knew her- she was a friend of Kenma’s from school. Kenma had promised you they were just friends, that you had nothing to worry about, but the insecurities crept in again as you realized he’d been spending a lot more time with her instead of you. Biting your lip, you looked back at your phone, the accusing text glaring at you. It seemed innocuous, seemed like you were overreacting. Kenma didn’t really get why you were insecure- he always told you he only had eyes for you, but lately, it didn’t really feel like it.

The last time you two had hung out, he’d laughed at something on his phone, then turned away when you asked to see what it was, muttering something vague about a funny tiktok. You didn’t think much of it at the time, but with thoughts crowding your head, you wondered if it really had been just a video. Kozume had always been distant- you understood that when you started dating him, but was it too much to ask for a scrap of his attention? 

You were torn. On one hand, you wanted to trust Kenma, believe that everything he told you was true and he still loved you like he used to. On the other, your gut was telling you there was something off. Praying that he wasn’t hiding anything, you entered a different browser and logged into his Discord account. You’d given each other the passwords to your socials a while ago, your way of showing that you had nothing to hide.

Incorrect login information. The words appeared in red on the screen, the password field outlined in red. You tried again, ensuring that there were no typos, and it still registered as wrong. Your stomach sank, staring at the message on the screen. He changed his password and didn’t tell you. At this point, you knew something was wrong, but you didn’t want to ask him in fear of seeming insecure or clingy, both traits Kenma disliked. Before you could lose yourself further in the swirling tornado of your thoughts, your phone dinged with a new message. It was from Kuroo.

“hey y/n, are you up? we need to talk.”

Brow furrowing, you responded with “yeah, is everything okay?” He read the text, and then the call icon rang at the top of the screen, red and green buttons buzzing gently. You accepted the call, answering with “Hi Kuroo.”

“Hey y/n,” he said, his voice quieter than normal. 

“Are you okay?” He sounded off, sad somehow.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. There’s something I need to tell you, though.” You paused for a second, hoping it wasn’t what you thought it was, before he continued. “Kenma- Kenma cheated on you.”

“W-what?” Time seemed to stop. you couldn’t, didn’t want to believe your ears. Your breath caught in your throat, shock freezing your body in place.

“Shit, y/n, I’m so sorry. I just found out.” Kuroo was still talking, but you weren’t hearing him. It seemed impossible, even though you’d seen it coming. “Y/n? Are you okay?” 

Startled, you choked out, “Yeah, I’m okay, just a little shocked.” a little was an understatement. “H-how did you find out?”

“Well,” he sighed, “I saw him kiss her behind the cafe yesterday. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I was still figuring out what to do.” Guilt laced his words, and you got the feeling there was still something he hadn’t said.

“What else?” From his slight intake of breath, you could tell you’d caught him off guard. He was silent for a moment.

“He’s been texting her on Discord for the past month or so. I think you know her, (f/n)?” You felt your heart crash into your stomach, and your worst fears were confirmed. Switching back onto your computer, you saw that Kenma was still playing the game with the girl, and your stomach clenched. 

“Yeah, I know her.” He noticed that your voice was quiet, subdued, and he swallowed.

“Y/n, I’m- I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.” He was silent then, waiting for you to speak.

“No, no, it’s fine,” You said, your voice oddly calm. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Of course. Hey, are you going to be okay?” He asked, unsure what was really happening inside your head.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.” Before he had a chance to say anything else, you hung up, mind spinning.

Oddly enough, you didn’t feel anything. You knew in the back of your head that this was your way of coping, that the hurt and anger and sadness would come later, but for now you didn’t care. Methodically, you went to all of your socials and blocked Kenma, hesitating only slightly to block his number in your phone.

You shut off your computer and turned your phone to silent, sitting in silence on your bed. Slowly, your eyes filled with tears that spilled down your cheeks, expressionless besides the gleaming tear streaks staining your face. Your shoulders shook, and everything seemed to crash down at once. 

Your body couldn’t keep up, the sobs overtaking you until you were lightheaded. The room was spinning and the shining moonlight was glinting through the blinds at odd angles, seeming to distort your vision. You couldn’t breathe, and then everything faded to black.

You woke up a few seconds later with your head on the pillow, dazed and hearing the blood pound through your head. You groaned and lay there for a couple of minutes, letting your breathing slow. 

You got up and brushed your teeth, staring at your puffy eyes in the mirror. It hurt, to know the man you loved didn’t feel the same anymore. What did you do wrong? Were you too clingy, not good enough, not there for him enough? Why would he cheat on you? 

Guilt vibrated around you, and it brought back the memories of every other time. It must have been your fault- it always was. 

Sleep took you uneasily that night, creeping in around your obsessive, painful thoughts and lulling you to distraction.

The next morning at school, you wiped the pain from your face and moved through the day in a haze. You saw Kenma in the hallway, leaning against the lockers on his phone, and avoided eye contact. When you saw her, (f/n), anger and hurt swelled up in your stomach, and you tried to swallow it and avoid lashing out. 

Later, Kenma stared at his phone as an error message popped up when he tried to text you. We’re sorry, the number you’re trying to reach is unavailable. A pit formed in his stomach, and he went to his other socials, reaching the same conclusions in other places. 

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, amber eyes scanning the hallway. You were already gone, though, and he moved through the swarm of people, eyes focused on the exit. Where would you have gone? 

When he showed up at your house that afternoon, you were surprised. He doesn’t waste time, showing you his phone and bluntly asking “Why did you block me?” Your eyes widened to see him slouching there, clearly uncomfortable with going out of his way to do this. “Are you angry at me?”

“Kozume, I don’t really want to talk to you right now.” His face twisted at your use of his last name.

“Why not?” 

At this point, you sighed, tired of everything. “You cheated on me. That’s why.” Your voice cracks in the last sentence, and the world stops.

His stomach drops as you turn away, the weight of the world on your shoulders. “N-no. Y/n. Please don’t go!” 

Kenma’s not good with words, and you understand that. Sometimes, though, it feels like he’s not trying. As he shook his head frantically, chin-length hair swaying around his beautiful face, you could tell he wanted to say something, but he can’t.

“What is there to say, Kozume?” Your eyes were brimming with tears, your heart squeezing at the sight of him.

“I didn’t- I didn’t mean to.” Even he knows how weak this sounds, how pathetic of him, and when he looks back up at you, his eyes are shiny. “I love you.”

His words ring hollow, and you scoff. “Where was that love when you kissed her behind the cafe? Where was it when you were constantly texting her on discord? Where was it when I needed you and you weren’t there?” You shake your head, heartbreak written all over your features. It’s then that he remembers the declined calls, the unanswered texts, the neglect he subjected you to as he pushed you away.

“I hope you’re happy with her, because we’re done.”

He didn’t even have a good reason this time. All he knew was that he wanted you to stay, but he knew he didn’t deserve a second chance. Against his will, a tear slid down his cheek and dropped to the floor, making him sniffle. 

There was nothing you wanted more than to pull him into your arms, cry into his shoulder, but you couldn’t. It hurt too much. You stepped back and slammed the door on him for the final time.

Leaning your head against the door, all of your emotions spilled out. You were silently crying, the ache in your chest almost too much to bear. You thought you heard your name outside the door, whispered just loud enough for you to hear, but you just sank down to the floor and let the tears fall.

On the other side of the door, Kenma’s phone buzzed. It was a text from her, and the disgust and anger that filled his stomach at the sight was enough for him to know he’d never forgive himself for hurting you like this.

“I love you.”

a/n: srry for the anticlimatic ending i was just feeling super bad and not in the mood to write but i wanted to get this out here, hope you like it.

[after-witch]

Sketch Memory [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Title: Sketch Memory [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Synopsis: Chisaki lets you indulge in your little hobbies. But he’s starting to suspect that you’re taking advantage of his “generosity.” 

For request: @hello-lucky-luka​ said: Remember that one ask about overhaul’s angel having a boyfriend? Can I request a scenario where she misses her boyfriend a lot that she draws pictures of him to the point where overhaul got his attention and get jealous?

Word count: 2700ish

You’re not lying, you reason. You’re not, technically speaking, hiding anything. Overhaul never asks to see your sketchbook. And he never said you couldn’t draw someone you know. So the fact that you have been drawing your boyfriend every day since your captor gifted you the hefty, nicely bound thick sketchbook is something you force yourself not to worry about. 

Sometimes you find yourself sketching just a bit of him--his hands holding onto his favorite coffee mug, the profile of his face, looking up, staring at a movie marquee on a date night.

Sometimes you draw his face in all its glory--smiling, frowning, annoyed. When you have lots of energy, lots of drive (which is not often, you feel so tired now, all the time; the lack of movement and weariness of captivity is getting to you) you draw an entire scene. Your favorite is the one you’re doing now, though to be fair, every new drawing is your favorite because it’s new. This one, you admit, is exceptionally special. You’ve drawn him sitting in the park, with a book in his lap.

The park, like everything else, is from memory. You wavered on where to put the tree behind the bench, because you can’t quite remember if it’s off-center or not, and whether or not it had a knot in the trunk towards the bottom or the middle. But it’s realistic, and that’s enough for now.

It’s your boyfriend that gives you the most pride in this piece. You’ve outdone yourself, you really have. He looks… alive. Weighty. Real. Real enough that you wish you’d done this in color and not just with your sketch pencils. Real enough that you close your eyes and imagine you’re in the park, that he’s sitting there with his book, engrossed in a story, so engrossed that he doesn’t see you coming. You stop in your tracks and admire his face, preserve the way he looks so focused, so far-away, to memory. You admire the way the breeze gently blows his hair, and a hand absentmindedly pushes his bangs (he needs a trim, or a style) away from his face before he flips a page.

Finally you can stand it no longer, and though you hate to break his concentration, you glide up to the bench and sit next to him. He jumps, but once he sees its you his body tension melts away and he slides closer until your thighs touch. “Good book?” You ask. He nods, then looks ahead. He looks concerned. Or focused. You’re not sure. “Are you okay?” He gives you a look of surprise, of worry, then a smile. “Of course. I just…” His hand fiddles in his pocket. There’s something there, something bulky and square. “Wanted to ask you something…” Your heart is hammering because you know what’s in his pocket and his hand is moving and he’s about to ask you and you’re smiling--

“Who did you draw?”

You’re not in the park--you’re not in the park--and your boyfriend is not here, and Overhaul is looming above you and he’s looking right at your sketchbook.

You slam the book closed and you know in the instant that you do that it was the wrong move. Defensive. Obvious. Shit, shit, shit shit.

You stare ahead and will yourself not to shake.

“I asked you a question, angel.”

“I…”

You don’t know where it comes from, but the courage to lie comes from somewhere, and you deliberately, slowly reopen your book to the exact page.

“Sorry,” you say, finally, looking up at him. You laugh, breathy and light. His face is impassive, as always. “You scared me. I was really focused, trying to, you know, think of what’s missing.” You pick up a pencil and fiddle with it, make a line here and there, useless things really, to make it look like you want to keep going.

“Mm.”

Your heart is beating so hard that it almost hurts.

“You didn’t answer my question. Who did you draw?” To anyone else, his tone might seem casual, neutral. Bored, even. But you know there’s something simmering underneath, the low threat of perceived bad behavior, the low threat of him sitting you down for “a talk,” or the distant promise returning to a particular small room and confinement. 

You force yourself to smile, nervously. No point in hiding the anxiety that he knows is there, after all. “Oh! It’s,” and in a split second the idea comes to you, genius--”just a character from that book I was reading the other day.” You set your book down and casually--you hope it looks casual--reach up to the shelves installed along the walls behind your desk to pluck the book out. “The one about the guy who came home from war and no one remembered him, so he starts a new life in a new town.”

You set the book back in place and glance up at Chisaki, who stares down at you. You’re about to blurt out something, anything, to fill the silence when he nods. It’s a tension-cutting nod, a nod that tells you you’re okay, you haven’t fucked up, he believes you and you can stop feeling like you’re going to throw up now.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying the book.”

He’s fine. You’re fine. It’s fine. For now, you think, for now. You want him to leave before he starts asking more questions.

“Kai?”

“Yes?” His eyes crinkle ever-so-slightly. A smile, you think, behind the mask. Maybe.

You smile in what you hope is a sheepish, not nervous, expression. “Could I take a nap today? I’m feeling kind of tired.”

He doesn’t answer right away, which makes your fingers curl on the hard back of your sketchbook. Does he know?

He reaches out with a gloved hand and there’s a split second of fear--you’re done for--before he simply brushes your cheek. One of his rare, yet increasingly common, touches.

“Of course you can. I’ll set a timer so you don’t sleep too long.”

He turns and leaves your room through he unassuming door that connects to his office and you mumble a quiet thank you as it shuts. He’ll know if you don’t nap--you swear he has cameras in the room, though he denied it when you asked--so you tuck your sketchbook into the drawer of the desk and decide to hop into bed. A nap might help you feel less anxious, anyway. Your captor doesn’t let you nap long enough to dream, so you’ll be spared a nightmare.

**

You wake, almost jerking up, to the sudden, loud beeping of Overhaul’s watch--which is strange, because he usually sits in his office while you nap and wakes you up in a condescendingly gentle manner.

You open your eyes and Chisaki is standing silently next to your bed.

“Um?” You rub your eyes, the gentle rest of the nap falling off you abruptly as you take in the unusual circumstances.

You sit up and oh.

He’d holding your sketchbook.

He’s flipping through your sketchbook.

And he’s really, really pissed off. The air suddenly feels heavy and there’s nothing of the cold staleness that usually permeates your mundane interactions with your captor, the awkwardness replaced instead with the gravity of your situation. For the first time in a long time, you remember who has you captive. You remember what he can do. He could hurt you. He might hurt you. Did you anger him enough to break down whatever barriers that have kept him from hurting you so far?

He flips another page and another and lets out a sarcastic hum of approval. You feel your heart beat faster at every sound.

“Is that his hand? Remarkable shading, but…”

He rips the page out and crumples it, tossing it into the large trashcan before flipping the page. “Ah,” he says, voice low and cruel. “Another one of his face.” He rips that one out with particular gusto but it doesn’t crumple--it explodes, pieces of paper flying into the air. Some of them land on you, in your hair, and you furiously bat at them and your heart hurts and you know you’re tearing up and you don’t care.

“Stop,” you say, weak. A whimper. “Stop it.” Fat tears roll down your cheeks and it’s hard to see.

“Don’t argue with me.” His tone is quick and curt, and you know there will be no mercy, no coddling. No soft hushes and shushes. Only coldness. “You’re already in enough trouble.”

At the word ‘trouble,’ you wrap your arms around your chest. Trouble, trouble, trouble. The word carries memories and connotations. Isolation. Anxiety. Boredom. Helplessness. All things you experience on a daily basis, amplified, rolling together in a thick ball that rests at the bottom of your stomach. You can’t go back in your punishment room.

“Look at me,” he says--and you do. You want to get out of trouble. If that’s possible.

Chisaki doesn’t glare at you, not precisely, but his eyes are stern and unforgiving. You wonder if he’s frowning behind the mask, but maybe it’s better not to know. Once he’s satisfied that you’re paying attention, he continues.

“You are going to get out of bed.  You are going to stand next to me. And then you’re going to rip out every drawing you’ve done of this… trash. And you will throw them away.”

You can feel the bitter, acrid taste of your lunch threatening to rise up to your throat.

“Please.” You’re whispering. You don’t have the strength to talk. “Please don’t make me do that.”

Somehow, you know--you know that if you rip up these pages, you’ll start to forget what your boyfriend looks like. The earliest drawings have the strongest features, the ones you flip to when you’re not sure about something. If those are gone, if every study you’ve done from memory is gone, you’ll forget. Just like you’ve forgotten the combination to your locker at work and the street your favorite bakery was on. You’ll forget, without the pages, without the reminders.

You know this. And Chisaki knows this, too. He always knows what you’re thinking, somehow, someway. If you could get a few steps ahead of him for once, keep yourself guarded, maybe he wouldn’t be able to effect you so much. 

“If you don’t want to destroy drawings of this garbage, I can always pay him a visit.” Your entire body goes rigid and you want to cry out and beg him--no no no--but nothing leaves your throat, thick and tight and trapped. Chisaki’s eyes practically glint as he continues. “It might be more satisfying to destroy the real thing, now that I think about it.”

Something in your throat loosens and you stand up, nearly tripping over your own feet.  You grab the book and he lets you, lets you hold it out in front of you like a burden. “I’ll do it,” you murmur, your body trembling. “I’ll do it, just… just don’t hurt him. Please. Please?” You look up and there’s no softness in his eyes, no agreeable smile that you sometimes see when he’s agreeing to give you a treat (because that is your life now, your captor agreeing to let you watch a movie is a special treat to be celebrated)--just passive coldness.

“Do what I told you, and we’ll see.”

It’s a start.

But now you have to do it.

Your drawings. Your work. Your memory of him. All pages and pencil and smudges and tears. Your entire body is trembling--you feel like the ground is moving, swaying beneath your feet. Your hands shake as you flip open to the nearest page.

An early sketch. One where your boyfriend’s face was so clear in your mind that if you had the skills to make photo realistic work, you might have been able to do it. You try to capture it to your memory but the second your hand moves, rips just a little, it seems to fly away. You pull harder and quickly wrinkle the paper in your hands before tossing it towards the trash bin.

You pause too long, apparently, because Chisaki speaks up.

“Keep going. I won’t tell you again.”

And you do. You tear out page after page, your tears flowing freely. You begin to feel numb, after a while, even as you rip out drawings that took you hours--drawings you poured your soul into, whatever is left of your soul after months and months of captivity.

One more to go.

Your hand gingerly touches the sketch that you’d been so proud of earlier. The last page. The last visual memory left--the only one not ripped apart or crumpled or shredded and nestled in your hair.

 You want to lose yourself in it again. You want to close your eyes and pretend you’re at the park and he’s about to propose and your life will be nothing but sweetness and planning for the future. But the air is too thick and Overhaul is staring and he can’t read your thoughts, but he’ll figure it out anyway.

So you rip the page out of the book and tear it in half, jagged and uneven, before throwing it into the garbage.

Your hand recoils from the ghost-like memory of the paper on your fingers and you press them against your chest, above your heart.

Your boyfriend has probably moved on by now. Maybe he’s months deep into a rebound relationship, finding himself brushing away tears at new firsts with another woman, a woman who can’t replace you but who will heal the wound you left in his heart. Who will heal your wounds?

Chisaki is staring at you, you realize, and you drop your hands. You don’t want him to think you’re fondly reminiscing. He could always change his mind about leaving your boyfriend--your ex? What do you call him? What does he call you, you wonder?--alone.

“We’re going to have a long talk about this later,” he says, voice leaving no room for argument. He pauses, and your chest feels tight. Will he tell you that you’re being sent to the quiet room? The thought of being there for days, alone, unable to do anything, barely able to move in the tight surroundings makes you shake and you dig your nails into your arm.

“You can stay in your room. You listened well.”

You swallow, throat tight, and nod. You almost want to smile. You don’t have to go back there, if you listen. You know how to listen, when it comes down to it.

Chisaki glances down at the trash bin and picks it up with his gloved hands, dragging it towards the door.

“One more thing,” he says, glancing back at you.

“Go wash your hands. They’re filthy.”

[husbandohunter]

Boys over flowers [Genshin Impact/Various x Reader] Part 2

Not everything had to be about fighting. Ahem Childe.

Genre: fluff, angst(?)

Characters: Zhongli, Childe, Albedo, Xiao

{Zhongli}

Out of all the bountiful possessions in the land he carved with his very own hands, the glaze lily had always been his favourite.

This flower was a nostalgia stained with time. As much as he loved them, the love he felt was more of a bittersweet sadness if anything. The loss of a friend, his mentor, someone he cherished so deeply, all of it was held into a single glaze lily.

Once as Morax, now as ordinary Zhongli, in those 6000 years he had seen it all. Even his grief for Guizhong faded into a memory.

Sometimes Zhongli felt like he was reading from a story book. Detatched while staring through an omniscient standpoint. It seems that his infinite years brought both experience and lonliness along the way.

"Zhongli? What are you staring at?"

But not when he was with you.

The glaze lily went on many journeys when he met you

He remembers the first encounter on a sunset night just as the petals  were about to bloom. You were there, crouched down, staring into his golden eyes.

“This is for you! Not many can be fully matured like this so make sure to take good care of it,” You held it out to him and he takes the stem out of your hold.

“A parting gift, I appreciate your thoughtfulness,” Zhongli sees it as a sign of a new contract, “It seems you possess a good eye when you were selecting them.”

He remembers the bouquet you presented during his birthday, the garland you placed on his head when he was reading, the vase by his desk always filled to the brim whenever you’d pay a visit to his parlour.

He remembers how the blue petals scattered across the floor the day you two married, everywhere he went so did this flower. Everytime he saw this flower, he thought of you.

Was it okay to feel like this? No one can ever replace Guizhong, was it okay to love again even when this being was much more perishable than she was? Zhongli was use to the experience of tragedy and loss as it was part of life.

Ah, so this must be what it feels like to live like a mortal.

To cherish every passing moment knowing that it won’t last forever. He will embrace it to the end. 

Old memories that were once dust rose from the soil, now reborn into a new beginning. Your curious gaze leans closer to his profile, sitting side-by-side under the blankets of your shared bed, the corners of his lips lift into a small smile.

“I’m only reminiscing, my dear. You don’t need to worry for me.” He kisses your forehead and tucked you to bed. The candle now blown out as his arms wrapped around your waist while spooning from behind.

Zhongli closed his eyes, knowing if he dreamt of a garden full of glaze lilies, there will be no sadness behind it.

{Childe}

Mother fucker would try to turn this into a sparring session.

This is why you NEVER invite Childe. If the valley were the air nomads, Childe was the fire nation. He’d stomp his muddy shoes in front of you just to get your attention simply because he knows it will piss you off.

An angry s/o means a potential fight. Win win situation.

Thus, no one blamed you for giving him a cold shoulder after that.

“Aha, looks like I went a little too far, didn’t I? Alright alright, I’ll stop trampling on your flowers from now on, you have my word. So talk to me, okay? Please?”

Alas you spare him a glance, “Make that a pinky promise.”

He didn’t know you were so serious about gardening. The Feiyun commerce guild took greate pride in cultivating the finest silk flowers in all of Teyvat and you being from that guild held up that legacy. Even if Childe tries to buy back the ones he stepped on, nothing could match the quality of your work.

Needless to say, your little hobby became a normal thing, Childe was very chaotic in nature so something more calm was nice to mediate that attitude. You taught him how to water plants, place the fertilizer and knowing which ones to pick.

But let’s be real, florist Childe isn’t that far-fetched because he is 10/10 waifu material.

Then Teucer comes in and tags along. He wanted to take some silk flowers back to Tonia until Childe informed him they’ll wilt on their way to Snezhnaya. 

“Aww, that’s too bad,” he would say while pouting, “Then I’ll give them to you big sister (Y/n)!”

“How sweet, you’ll be quite the charmer when you’re all grown up, Teucer. Maybe even better than your big brother.”

“Come on now, babe. You know that’s impossible.”

You twirled the silk flower right under your nose, the playful tone never leaving your voice, “Oh really? You and Teucer both share the same genes so yes, it is a possibility.”

An amusing glint dances in the ocean of his gaze as he gleefully remarks, “Well if you put it that way, I think Teucer would be at a very big disadvantage.”

“What do you-”

Before you could finish, Childe covers Teucer’s eyes and leans over to steal a sinful kiss, sliding his tongue inside. He purposely brushed his lips over yours after parting, completely satisfied by your flustered expression.

I love this bastard

{Xiao}

Hip hip hooray for having both Qiqi and Xiao in your party. Must be fun collecting their ascension materials.

“Adeptus Xiao!”

Your dumbass fell off the high cliff while obtaining the violet grass, Xiao yeets in from nowhere and caught you from death’s clutches.

Shall I mention that this had happened TWICE already?

Xiao carries you to safety and gently settles you down to your feet. He shot you the sharpest and most deadpan look he could muster because actions speak louder that words, he was trying to make a point.

You gave him a weary smile as the violetgrass batch limps in your hands along with the qingxins.

“I can hardly fathom how utterly stupid and moronic you can actually be. What did you think would happen when you tried to pull off that stunt? That you’d suddenly grow wings and be able to fly?”

His harsh words put you back into your place like a scolded child, “I’m sorry...I just wanted to help...”

Mah man does not watch what he says and always end up guilty. Your kicked puppy look is really going to be the death of him. He means well, just harsh when it comes to your well-being.

“Fine, give me those. I’ll take care of it.” He wouldn’t allow you to retort, he just took them from your hands and left without a word.

Let’s just say that Xiao isn’t the best when it comes to handling flowers as he would handle monesters, his touch isn’t the most delicate either and would prefer to get the job done fast. 

Sometimes he’d pull the roots our along with it, dirt and mud dripping from the bottom of the stem. Or the opposite. He pulls too hard and the stem just SNAPS and you’re left with just the blossom. 

“Does it matter? They’re only ingredients as you’ve said.”

That gave you a perfect excuse to teach him the ways of gardening and just be more delicate overall. 

At first he didn’t understand why humans were so meticulous about these things but when he saw a man present a bouquet to his wife, Xiao began to reconsider his methods. He doesn’t undersand mortal traditions as much and sticks to something simple and classy.

Don’t be surprised when you find a bunch on your desk for your birthday <3

{Albedo}

The sheer cold of dragon spine could naturally kill any botanical organisms aside from mints. The only flowers Albedo usually sees are the ones he artificially makes.

But being the genius he was, Albedo knew every variety of flowers to exist in the book. In this case, HE was the expert.

To him, the flower was the symbol of life. Albedo only knew the scientific facts of plant life and their natural functions, you on the otherhand were more familiar with the flower languages in a deeper meaning.

Today was a rare day where Albedo figured he’d step out of that freezing lab and conduct his research somewhere warmer, specifically Windrise where it’s quiet and away from the city.

“Dandelions may not be flowers but thei’re the main specialty of Mondstadt carrying the meaning of ‘freedom’! That’s probably how the Acting Grandmaster got her title.”

“Freedom...” He ponders, “I guess you cold say that.”

Albedo can’t understand why people would choose to associate meaning with plants. Where do their ideas come from? And why? Frankly, he can’t see the point in any of it. 

But at the same time, it made him happy to see you so enthusiastic about his research even if it wasn’t quite near the target. Albedo had always been so engrossed in his work and you’d just silently keep him company of the side, not many times where you both fot to nerd out on the same topic.

Emotions were still a mystery to him. It seems that even upon the most boring subjects, they don’t seem boring anymore when talking to his significant other. Soon enough, Albedo found himself putting his research aside and just listening to you talk. 

“And the Rose expresses romance and love. It’s common for lovers to give it to another during Valentines day.”

He hums cheekily, “Are you telling me that just to hint me to give one to you?”

“W-Well, I didn’t say that.”

He got nothing done. Perhaps his research can wait for another day, right now, he was more curious on what other meanings can a flower hold.

[burnedbyshoto]

So I'm not trying to shame you. I have an app on my phone that let's me see what my daughter looks at online. She is fully aware of it. I just wish there was a way for you to make sure kids not of age can't see this. I know it's up to parents too. But it's difficult to try and stop my child from looking at this stuff. If you have any suggestions. She already feels like I'm invading her privacy.

hello mother of a follower, it’s nice to meet you, although in very, very strange circumstances if I must admit. so, a little background information on tumblr and my tumblr in specific!

tumblr is a very anonymous app if you want it to be. not only does each profile allow you to remain anonymous for all eternity, it’s a very “socially unfavorable” app meaning that most of the time you really don’t want you name tagged to your blog. I don’t know why, past reputations probably. due to the programming of tumblr, one thing it is incapable of doing — unlike twitter, tiktok, facebook, or instagram — is truly locking or privating accounts.

if someone wants to follow me, they can should they find my profile. so, clearly your child found my account.

I would like to point out that we can block profiles which prohibits profiles from viewing my page, but this does not stop them from hopping onto safari or whatever search engine and viewing my page. not only that but I do not block minors — i’m assuming your child is a minor in this case — because with someone with 25k+ followers that is continuously growing every day, I simply do not have the mental or emotional energy to track every single one of my followers age. I know there are some blogs who do such thing, but I do not because well... i’ll never get to the bottom of it.

I block minors when they are blatantly being minors in my eyes aka commenting or asking me something that includes their age. otherwise I do not interact with them as I fully expect them to not interact with me. as you can see via my blog header I am an “18+ blog minors dni” as a warning to them. I wish I could stop minors from reading and being on my blog, but I can’t. but it’s a warning so that if minors come onto my blog, they know they should not be here.

it may not be in my place, but I had overly strict parents myself. as a mexican daughter of immigrants my parents read and watched over everything I did before I turned 18 (they even used to read my text messages and would get angry about things i’d say even though they would tell me every day they would never read my texts) and they sort of do it still even though i’m 21. although I understand reasoning behind invasion of privacy of your child because I know it’s done with best of intentions, realize that even if it is your child, they deserve their own privacy. & hey it seems they’re just reading stories about fluff, smut, and angst about fictional boys — a step up from getting involved with drugs, sex, or whatever weird things you might believe minors be doing or could be doing.

what i think you need to do with your child, most importantly, is just talk with them. maybe you didn’t experience is as a minor, but take my own experience that we do at times feel horny and such. have the sex talk, have a progressive and open conversation with your child without shooting them down or making them feel bad about their very real and human feelings and temptations. discuss about how the things they read on my blog is not realistic — as any form of media is — but remember that you should never shame them for indulging on their sorts of entertainment.

I mean, I get it! if I was a parent and my child was reading erotica i’d freak out too because what do you do??? but also I know that it’s human and part of growing. I also know that if you shut it down and belittle or shame them, it will hurt them more than anything else. just have a discussion about healthy and safe sex if it’s the smut you’re concerned about, but that’s as far as I can help you. because if you’re unable to view your child as a human being that is growing up feeling how you did and maybe feelings in some areas more than others, you’ll hurt your relationship.

be a parent, but also be a human being and see your child as such too because one day they won’t be a minor anymore and there’s something they may or may not forgive you for. and if it’s too much for you then, maybe reconsider this privacy thing on your own end and maybe stop looking at what they do on their phone and trust that they’re making safe and healthy decisions because well... it sort of is an invasion of privacy. is your child allowed to view everything you look up on the internet? they’re communicating to you that they feel that your overstepping their boundaries & now you’re asking me to do something so that you can continue to enforce your restrictions on them. i mean, yes, i don’t want minors on my blog, but this is not the way to get minors to stop indulging into their more sexual feelings and emotions. strict parents breed mischievous kids and kids who don’t want anything to do with their parents once they taste freedom. be open. be charastimatic and empathic and realize that your child needs their privacy to indulge in their wants and needs without you being weirded out by it. educate your child but don’t destroy a happy spot for them.

it might mean nothing to you, but I promise you that a minor reading fanficition/being obsessed with fictional characters is not a bad thing or a crazy thing. i’m still relatively normal :) good luck, and I hope I neither offended or overstepped.