#I'm not all these things but I thought the tags were relevant

[ourrosette]

How I Write Descriptions

Descriptions have been such an elusive and tricky thing to nail down, at least for me it was. I was always torn between if I should be including each and every detail or giving a few and letting the reader fill in the gaps, only to realize that my writing looked more like a long winded checklist with the former and the dreaded "white room" with the latter. Worst of all, my descriptions were never interesting.

While it was difficult to pin down exactly how to do that, I managed to figure out a way to flesh out a scene that made sense to me. And, it involves imagining the scene in spheres. Specifically:

Sphere 1: The main character and their inner world.

This usually involves your main character, their actions along with their thoughts, feelings, and experiences. This is the filter in which the reader views the other spheres through.

Sphere 2: The other characters.

Pretty self explanatory, these are the other characters that exist within this scene. This includes their actions and dialogue. Additionally, these characters don't have to be present to have impact on the scene either.

Sphere 3: Their surroundings.

Again, self explanatory. This is the set in which the characters are acting out the scene.

For example (I'm stealing one from something I already wrote):

Its easy to describe these spheres individually, but its when they inter lap is how we get a more in depth picture. These spheres are not separate, the characters interact with each other, have opinions and respond to the stimuli and settings around them. We want them interacting with the environment, noticing details that are important or relevant to them, and allowing the scene to develop around that. When these three spheres overlap in various ways and all sorts of orders, we can create something interesting.

Veritas was lost. He was wearing only a strip of cloth over his chest but he'd rather be wearing more. He doesn't want to be here.

Aventurine, the smaller green mermaid, was up ahead.

The kelp forest was large, green, and difficult to navigate.

Can turn into this:

Kelp surrounded Veritas on all sides, a never-ending forest of yellowed green, stained by the sun, stretching from the shallow depths to the surface above. A sure sign they neared the coast. With each wave passing overhead and crashing against an unseen break, they swayed – they reached. Leaves, thin and coated in a thin layer of slime, touched his arms, his tail and his painfully bare chest. It left him shuddering, wondering what he was even doing here. Wondering where Aventurine could be lurking during their impromptu game of tag – turned hide and go seek. He was the one who ventured into the forest first. The smaller mermaid all but disappeared into the cluster of thin stalks that stretched on and on. His fin, a mixture of teals and greens, both a boon and a headache. It made for a difficult game. Shadows stretched long here, the sun a glimmering afterthought for the creatures who found refuge within the leafy towers. It was unfortunate Veritas wasn’t included within those ranks. He was utterly and painfully lost.

[redtail-lol]

Okay you reblogged the celibacy gif but are you normal about people who don't have sex

[the-n3w3st-g1rl-g1rl]

Ralsei rambles

Sorry I'm a little obsessed but let me get into a collection of just. Random unorganized thoughts here for fun

So one of the first things we learn about Ralsei is that he's been waiting his whole life to meet Kris and Susie. I'm not going to completely deny the possibility that he's lying about any given thing here (we don't know for sure yet) but for the sake of this post I'll assume he's being honest because I don't think he's an evil liar and that's not how I'm looking at his character right now. So right off the bat- he's been waiting his whole life, in that castle, presumably not talking to people (the great door was closed, he seems very inexperienced in social situations, he's never hugged anyone before, he's never had friends before). So he's a very isolated, touch-starved person relying on a prophecy as his one hope in life.

The legend describes himself being some sort of hero, along with two companions. Before even meeting Kris and Susie, he wants to be friends with them, because he knows they will be heroes and he knows he will meet them and those are some of the only things he knows at all.

His mindset is also very "lightners are like gods, darkners are just objects", which isn't something exclusive to him and I am very curious how the narrative will explore that, I can't imagine it'll stay that way throughout the game (at least not in an all recruits route). Either way, this means he puts the other heroes above himself. You see a lot in chapter one this sort of worship for Kris ("if you ARE jealous, I could find a leaf and fan you!" "I could hem floral patterns into your ascot!"). It's especially with Lightners, but generally I think he is very desperate for validation which is pretty obvious because He's Never Had It Before and he wants to know he's doing things Right.

Also talking about this I am getting vague thoughts of his low self worth sort of being reflected in his stats, his defence and health are very bad and he's most useful to use as a tool to heal the other party members. Kind of interesting.

We don't know what object he is in the light world, but we do know that as a darkner he is a literal object (or I guess some darkners in cyber world are programs so maybe it doesn't have to be something physical? idk but he's probably an object and if not he's still not what we'd traditionally view as a person when not in the dark world) and I think that very much relates to how he views himself. When he says he doesn't know what "being Ralsei-like" means, I think it's in part because he's not used to viewing himself as a person. He is some sort of object, he is a hero in a prophecy already laid out before him, and he is the prince that lives alone in an empty castle. He doesn't have much perception of himself outside of these sort of roles he's been filling out.

I talked about this in my "puppet scarf" fic, but I think Ralsei is a puppet as well. Not as literally as Kris, of course. I think his metaphorical strings are the prophecy, and he's so set in his role that he can't even consider breaking away from it. And, until he does, I think he'll have a hard time finding himself, because he needs to have an identity outside of what's expected of him and right now he doesn't really. I think Susie will almost inevitably help with that, because she's sort of the opposite. She's nothing like what he expected and she's constantly breaking rules and expectations. I think that if anyone could teach Ralsei to be more independent and to break away from his current mindset and perceptions, it would be her.

And she's already started. She's taught him sarcasm, she taught him that a friend isn't necessarily a kind person and that she's great the way she is, she demonstrated that (while breaking away from the team and attacking enemies wasn't necessarily ideal) she was able to find belonging and friendship in that through Lancer. Lancer himself, as far as we've seen, is barely in the prophecy, so him becoming so important was probably unexpected to Ralsei- things are already somewhat diverging from the story laid out before him.

(Super irrelevant side note- Susie says in chapter 2 that she taught Ralsei sarcasm, presumably while the team was split up at the crossroads, but Ralsei actually uses sarcasm in chapter 1 independently from her. When in prison, he says "well this is a fine 'how do you do', isn't it Kris?" and I HIGHLY doubt that that was genuine so.)

Susie and Ralsei's friendship will definitely be an important one. It's harder to speak on him and Kris because we just don't know how Kris feels about him exactly. He clearly resembles a Dreemurr (to the player he most closely resembles Asriel, but we don't yet know how Asriel currently looks in this game and I don't believe any character has directly compared the two out loud yet? Their names are anagrams, but I think all there's been so far is Susie saying he looks like Toriel and Noelle saying "he looks kinda like" before being cut off. Anyway) , and I imagine that probably makes their relationship awkward considering Kris is currently really missing their brother. We don't know how much Kris might know about dark worlds independently of the player, they did have that save point prior to the game, but I doubt they know much more about Ralsei than we do other than maybe something from those brief moments they have alone with him while we're off with Susie.

Other than the resemblance to their brother, we kind of just have the tea to go off of, which gives me the impression that they feel neutral about him. Still heals them, but not as much as other teas. Ralsei and Noelle's teas heal each other just a bit less than Ralsei does for Kris, and I imagine Ralsei and Noelle are about as neutral feeling towards each other as you can get since they Don't Know Each Other, so it being a bit more is probably a good sign? Obviously both Susie tea and Kris tea heal Ralsei a lot those are his best and only friends and he loves them so so so much

I'm not much of a theorizer so overall my thoughts are: Kris feels pretty neutral towards Ralsei. They probably think it's weird that he looks like their brother and there may be context we don't have with their conversations away from the player. Considering that I don't think he has bad intentions, I doubt Kris thinks that either because where would they get that idea if there's nothing to imply it, so I don't think they actively dislike or distrust him. In Puppet Scarf I had them be upset at him for not helping with their soul but they don't hate him there they're just kind of annoyed that he won't even try to help them because he thinks it's all destiny ANYWAY THIS ISN'T ABOUT MY FIC

I do very much like his friendship with Lancer. I've explored it a bit in my fic "uncertainty" and it's certainly a dynamic I think about a lot, I might write another fic about them at some point. As I mentioned earlier Lancer wasn't really in the prophecy beyond "that one teardrop headed kid who's just there to represent darkners" and prior to the game Ralsei's perception of him is probably mostly just "this guy is the king's son and works for the king and therefore is working against us". So Ralsei had like no intention of being his friend because if anything they'd probably be enemies. And yet….

Ralsei I don't think has it in him to be mean just in general- he's not even mean to the King even though he really should be. And Lancer isn't very good at being mean either, considering the way he "insults" Ralsei tends to just be weirdly phrased compliments? ("Kindboy" "Delicious little apple" "sweet little peas we love to see" "earn a second doctorate smart genius"). They both can't help but be nice to each other and through Susie being their mutual friend it's sort of inevitable that they become somewhat unlikely friends. They come from completely different mindsets, Ralsei obviously being super dedicated to the prophecy while Lancer was completely dedicated to his dad and the fountain before meeting Susie (and still probably doesn't care about the prophecy itself, moreso about his friends in particular) but they're both like. Yeah of course they'd be friends anyway.

Also they're both princes which always seemed significant to me. Like we're drawing attention to a parallel. Although I guess now Lancer's a king but shhh. Also neither of them know how to run a kingdom who left these kids in charge

Anyway um. I like Ralsei a normal amount clearly. Very excited to see where his arc is going I hope he finds the journey of self discovery fulfilling and I hope he finds freedom from the roles he's been assigned

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 Cupid Walks Right.

Coworker!Reid x BAU!reader

series mastelist | main masterlist

Summary: You've been hiding your attraction to your coworker for a long time, until a few pictures of him kissing a celebrity in a pool unleash emotions you can't control.

Words: 1,6k.

Warnings & Tags: fem!bau!reader. mentions of crime and arms. spoilers for s1 e18 ("somebody's watching"). hurt+comfort. two idiots in love. lots of jealousy. fluff. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: The reader is simply me every time I watch that episode but with a lot more drama to make it interesting.

One bullet after another hit the paper meters away from you, with each shot more accurate than the previous one. You had lost count of how many cartridges you had already spent because your mind was full of thoughts that only the sound of the shots echoing in the shooting room managed to silence and give you back a little control of the situation.

Memories of one of the last cases still lingered in your mind, and you couldn't understand why. It hadn't even been something relevant enough to stick in your mind that much, it was just a crazy stalker obsessed with a celebrity and more of the same old same old in terms of creating a profile. It was nothing you hadn't seen before, and it had ended well, with a happy ending that included Spencer kissing the victim he was supposed to be protecting.

That was the crux of the issue, the root of your problem.

You saw some photos that captured the moment in vivid detail and wanted to run out and throw up in the nearest trash can. You held back to avoid answering embarrassing questions, blaming your bad feelings on the last thing you ate and insisting that you were just satisfying your curiosity. But as they say, curiosity always kills the cat.

Maybe it was because it was unprofessional and unnecessary, maybe you were in a bad mood and needed to relax, maybe you were upset that the guy with the germ problem had shared saliva with a stranger, maybe you didn't like Lila Archer because of her performances, or maybe you just wanted to be in her shoes and have him kiss you like that. And for heaven's sake, maybe you've had a few inappropriate dreams about it lately.

You were just about to fire again to get the thoughts out of your mind when someone tapped you on the shoulder. You turned around, ready to defend yourself with the gun in your hand.

“Wait, wait, it's me. I'm sorry.” Spencer raised his arms in a sign of peace and took a few steps back. “Just me.”

“What are you doing here? You scared me.” You lowered the gun and placed it on the table, trying to sound less abrupt. “I thought everyone had gone home.”

He approached you again, checking the open shells and the pile of bullets on the ground. He was quite surprised to see how many times you had hit the target with perfect shots, and how you still seemed intent on continuing, even though it was almost two in the morning. It wasn't practice, because you didn't need it, it was something else, and you seemed quite angry about it.

“I spent the hour going through some papers and saw the light on in here. I thought I'd come and have a look.” He explained, trying to follow your gaze, which seemed to elude his. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, perfect.”

You started gathering your things and cleaning up the space you'd been using, planning to leave as soon as possible because of his presence. It had been weeks since you'd been alone with him because you'd managed to avoid seeing him as best you could. You'd even managed to convince Hotch that it was time for him to pair you up with someone else during the cases to experiment. You didn't even know why he'd listened to you, but it had been a great relief.

“You're leaving already?” Spencer asked, and you just nodded. “Can I take you home?”

Usually he drove you home, because your car was still at the mechanic and you refused to buy a new one. You always used the minutes you spent together to talk about something other than cases, they were moments of relaxation that you both appreciated. The big difference was that now you couldn't afford that luxury without feeling strange.

“Don't worry, I'll call a taxi.” You grabbed your jacket from a nearby locker. “I'm fine.” You added, with the intention of heading for the door until he stopped you by the wrist.

“Is everything okay...between us?” He asked as you looked up to meet his eyes. “Are you mad at me?”

“I'm sorry, what?” You said, feigning confusion. You always knew it was only a matter of time before he figured something was off with you. After all, he worked in profiling.

“Are you mad at me?” He asked again, in a lower voice, sounding a little more vulnerable than he'd intended. That instantly made you feel bad, you didn't want to hurt him with your confusion.

“No.”

He let out a sigh at your automatic response. His shoulders slumped a bit, and he felt a wave of relief for a few seconds. But then he looked into your eyes for a moment and hesitated, biting his lower lip.

“So...why are you looking at me like that?” He asked, sounding a little shy and with a hint of apprehension in his voice. “Or not looking at me at all.”

“I'm not doing anything.” You make excuses.

He got the chills when he heard your voice, which came across as cold and distant.

“You're giving me that look.”

You gave a little frown and folded your arms, as if to say you didn't agree.

“What look?"

“You look at me like I've done something wrong, like you're disappointed or angry...I think both. You barely look me in the eye, you walk away every time I want to talk to you, you don't sit near me on the jet or want to work with me anymore. And you've been like this for a week.” He paused for a second, remembering when your strange behavior started. “Ever since the L.A. case.”

The room was suddenly filled with silence and a palpable tension. You had been foolish to think Spencer wouldn't notice your remoteness, given his perceptive nature. But you didn't have a choice. You didn't want to appear jealous when you didn't even have feelings for him, you were just ovulating or something like that.

“Is it because...because of Lila? I heard Morgan say some things, and you haven't treated me the same since.” His wavering voice sounded more and more confident, as if he still had to convince himself of his point of view. “I want to know what you think, please.”

You could only curse Derek for exposing you like that. He was the only one who knew about your strange attraction to Reid because he had caught you looking at him several times and you had confessed it to him once in a bar after several drinks and a ridiculous game of cross questions. Since that night, the jokes and suggestions about making out with Spencer under a tree had begun.

But a beautiful actress did it before you, in her pool, with lots of pictures to prove it.

“I'm not one to tell you what to do, but I think your actions were unprofessional and most of all risky.” You spoke after a few seconds, clearing your throat and trying to contain the burning you felt. “It could have ended badly.”

Come on, you would have done the same thing. You often thought about what it would be like to kiss him in the middle of an investigation, especially when he kept giving important details. So you were a little hypocritical.

“I'm only saying that because I care about you.” You added, noticing how confused he looked.

“I know, I care about you too.” He replied calmly, taking a step toward you to touch your arm. “This has been bothering you?”

You froze at his warm touch and the implications you thought he was making about you, nodding as if hypnotized. Had he realized that you had been jealous all along? That you wanted to go back so he could kiss you and not her? That you wanted him to put his hands on your cheeks and kiss you deeply until you were breathless?

“I think I understand, but don't worry about me. I won't do anything dangerous anymore.”

Oh, he hadn't noticed.

Spencer really thought that you were just concerned about his safety because he was your friend and your partner on cases, that you were just frustrated that you weren't there to back him up in case things went wrong. It didn't even occur to him that it was something much deeper and more heated than that.

“So, all good?” He gave you a small smile that made your heart beat a little faster.

“Sure.” You lied, with a strange lump in your throat at the guarded words. “I just didn't know you liked blondes.” You added in a fake teasing tone.

Despite your clearly suspicious tone, Spencer laughed sheepishly. “Actually, I like your hair color.”

A strange bubbling sensation reached your stomach and made you smile.

“Mine?” You asked, lowering your gaze to the floor.

“Yes, it's like it's perfect for you.” He carefully brushed your hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear, causing the feeling in your stomach to identify itself as butterflies fluttering nonstop.

“You're telling me because I have a gun?” You tried to change the subject with a nervous laugh. “I'm not a celebrity, after all.”

“You don't have to be one to be as pretty as you are. But you could be if you wanted to, and...” He started to talk about statistics and a bunch of data you didn't even know, but strangely enough you didn't listen to him this time because you were stuck on the first sentence.

Spencer really thought you were pretty.

It was only then that you realized something had changed. The only successful shot had been Cupid's arrow to your heart.

Because, damn it, you were totally in love with that man.

[dancerinthesky]

heavy breathing

apple and raven from eah are jegulus variants okay.

[fanfics-for-you]

what's in a name? || Patrick Verona (TTIHAY) x gn!reader (Modern!College!AU)

AVAILABLE ON AO3 (SOON)

Inspiration: ✨️Patrick Verona✨️

Summary: Patrick Verona is apparently the most intimidating guy on campus. You just want to get by, pass your classes, and get to your actual dreams. When you casually approach him one day and decidedly are not scared of him, Patrick has some questions.

TWs: light language, use of Y/N (only like twice), second person POV (you, yours).

[[A/N: This is basically under the concept that you approach Patrick first, and aren't really as afraid of him as anybody else. He's intrigued. Also this is a college AU, because I am in college and I think it's weird to write about high school lmao. ALSO,,, I know this is incredibly niche and a dead tag, but... I watched the movie recently and was violently possessed to write this. The parasites in me what to continue this universe, but idk. Anyway. Enjoy :)]]

You were exhausted. Totally and completely exhausted.

You'd stayed up all night for your chem quiz, and still, didn't think you did great on it. Which made your day ever so worse. So, when you went to the library, and someone was sitting in the spot you always sat in, you halfway wanted to cry and halfway wanted to rip your hair out. Normally, such a thing wouldn't be a big deal, but today it was. So, with a certainty that rivaled a lawyer in court, you stomped over to the chair.

For a moment, the guy didn't even look at you. He kept staring at his friend, a surprisingly 'metal' dressing guy who was talking avidly about something.

You cleared your throat.

That's when they both looked at you.

You were entirely focused on the one in your seat. A taller guy with built shoulders, curly hair and a sharp jaw. In normal circumstances, you'd probably think he was hot. Today was not normal circumstances.

The man raised an eyebrow.

Okay, so maybe it was a little normal circumstances, but that wasn't relevant.

"What are you doing?"

The man answered, simply -maybe a little confused, "Sitting?"

"That's my spot," you clarified, pointedly.

"Oh, I'm sorry-" the man pretended to start getting up before pausing -speaking sarcastically, "-Oh wait, I've just remembered, this is public property."

Mindlessly noting that he had an accent that you couldn't quite place, you rolled your eyes, "I sit there everyday. Just give me the spot."

"You weren't sitting here all day," he pointed out, "-or else I wouldn't be here."

You pressed your lips together into a thin line, "I was busy failing a chem test, now get up."

His eyes skimmed over your face, thoughtfully, "Do you know who I am?"

"Why-" you sighed out, frustrated, "-would I know who you are?"

Even despite the comment, he did seem familiar somehow but you weren't going to tell him that.

He furrowed his eyebrows for a moment, and didn't say anything. You felt like you were going to explode in fiery flames.

You groaned, "Oh my god. There are thousands of seats on campus, just go sit somewhere else."

"Exactly," the man countered, "-why don't you sit somewhere else?"

"Because-" you huffed out a breath, "-that's my spot."

"And why is this spot so important to you?" He shuffled slightly, moving his hands along the cracks of the seat, "-You got something good stashed in 'ere?"

"Dear god," you huffed out a breath in defeat, "-Whatever. Enjoy your seat, asshole."

And with that, you spun on your heel and pulled yourself deeper into the library. Taking a breath in, you pulled yourself into a seat not too far from the original, but you were around the corner so you wouldn't have to look at his stupid face. You soured just at the thought.

You pulled open your chem book, and read through it -trying to figure out which ones you definitely missed, that way you could get the ballpark for what your grade might be. You really needed to know, to make sure your GPA stayed in the range for your dream university.

But, in the middle of it, you heard someone plop into the chair in front of you (it was a group of chairs, like for a group of people if necessary).

Before looking up, you spoke -sharply, "Do you mind?"

"Not at all."

Your eyes shot up at that familiar accent, and you frowned.

"You got the seat," you pointed out, bitterly, "-What the hell do you want now?"

"Your name," he answered simply.

You blinked, (what?) before settling back into your seat and flipping to the next page, "Yeah, no."

The man seemed to move forward, and unwillingly your eyes flickered to him (his curls moving with the motion), "Why not?"

"I don't give my name out to strangers," you retorted -flicking your eyes down to your book, "-especially not assholes."

"Don't know if I can change who I am," he smirked, "-but, I can work on the stranger part."

You frowned, eyeing him particularly, "Seriously, what do you want?"

"I already told you," he replied, fidgeting with something in his hands (you weren't paying attention), "-I'm Patrick, by the way."

"Well," you exhaled, sharply, and ignored his name, "-you're not getting it."

"Well," he repeated with the same sort of grin, "-I'll just have to work on that too, then."

You looked up at him again and squinted at him -trying to read him somehow. All he did was grin at you, a charming kind, of course, that made crinkles on his cheeks. You ignored the flutter in your chest that it gave you and darted your eyes back down to your book.

The next day, you were in better spirits. After studying for an entirely different class, you were pretty sure you aced that test. So, you weren't as pissed, thankfully. Until you went into the library to sit between classes like you always did.

You paused in your step and frowned.

The guy (Patrick, your mind treacherously noted) was sitting by your chair, mindlessly tapping his fingers along the arm of the chair. He wasn't in your chair, thankfully, but still, he was in the one beside it. Pointedly close.

You huffed out a breath, and moved toward the chairs, "What are you doing?"

"Sitting," he repeated.

You raised an eyebrow.

He seemed to take that as a repeat of the question -before saying, confidently (too confidently), "I'm studying for a test."

"You don't seem like the studying type," you retorted, throwing yourself into the chair and pulling out your laptop -realizing it was no use to try and get him to leave.

Patrick pointed out, "You don't even know me."

"And I don't intend to," you replied with ease, flicking your eyes to meet his, "-your point?"

He grinned the same bright one from before, amused maybe. Your heart skipped a beat, so you dropped your eyes back down to your laptop. He, on the other hand, didn't seem to look away.

"What's your major?" He asked, thoughtfully.

"I won't tell you my name," you leveled, scrolling through your online schedule for homework, "-but you think I'll tell you my major?"

"Well," he reasoned, "-a name is much more identifiable, but your major," he shrugged, "-not so much."

You eyed him again for a second, before saying, "What if you just want to look up my classes and hunt me down?"

Patrick smiled again, before asking, "What is your next class?"

"Why?" You ask, pointedly, "-So you can force me into talking to you again?"

"Preferably," he replied, grinning cheekily.

You raised an eyebrow, and bit your lip to pull down a smile that begged to quirk up, "I'm not telling you that either."

"What if I just follow you when you leave?" He questioned, curiously, "-Figure it out myself?"

"And what if I-" you smiled at him -patronizingly, "-call the campus police?"

He raised both eyebrows as if to say 'touché' without saying it out loud. You bit down another smile and moved back to your computer -pulling out your planner and jotting down dates.

"Your pissiness," he suddenly spoke, "-Are you often filled with boiling hatred?"

"No," you sigh out, before shooting him another patronizing smile, "-that's special just for you."

He laughed then, and something warm zinged down to your toes (you ignored it), "Do you seriously not know me?"

"Do you know how many Patricks exist in the world?" you point out, "-No, I don't know you."

"So you do remember my name," he smirked, patting along his lap with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes but didn't say a word.

It ended up like that for the rest of the time, Patrick shooting questions now and then, and you shutting them down. His stupid smirk and low, rumbly, accented voice, you hated that he actually seemed kinda nice -all things considered.

But, as you stood up to leave, you decided on something.

"Literature," you said simply, gathering up everything into your bag.

He paused, shooting up his eyebrows, "What?"

"My next class," you answered, nonchalantly pulling your bag onto your shoulder, "-Intro to Literature."

Patrick grinned, bright and shiny, "Gen Ed?"

"Yeah," you answered, moving to put the last few things in your bag.

"Can I walk you?"

Your eyes snapped to him then, curiously -detailing the rather honest look, before answering solidly, "No."

He burst into laughter then, throwing his head back against the chair -you mindlessly watched his curls fall back with the motion and then snapped your eyes away.

"Same time tomorrow then?" He asked, still laughing a little bit (something in you twinkled).

"Nope," you exhale a breath, ignoring the disappointment that swirled into your chest, "-I'm not on campus tomorrow."

He seemed to falter for a second, "Do you live on campus?"

You raised a solid eyebrow, you really think I'd tell you that?

"Right, yeah, okay," Patrick conceded, holding up his hands in faux surrender, "-What days are you on campus?"

You paused, pressing your lips together, but something in you did it, "Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays."

He grinned a little brighter, "Are you here around the same time on Mondays?"

Something in your chest flipped, but even still, you answered, "That's what you have to figure out. Not me."

And then, you spun on your heel and walked out of the library. His laughter trailed out behind you, and if you had a small little smile on your face at the noise, that was only for you to know.

Monday came, and you woke up early and made your way to campus -the first class of the day was at the crack of dawn. You physically despised it, but so is the schedule of a college student. Plus, you still worked, so the earlier the better for your schedule -didn't mean it didn't suck though.

Sipping on your drink, you wandered back toward the cafeteria -crossing the main connecting area, where everything led to. There was a baseball game going on, not an official one by the looks of it, in the grass. Your eyes hinged on the game for a few seconds, the echoes of laughter shooting toward your ears. It looked fun, but you weren't too invested in being outside for that long. Before you could look away though, your eyes caught on a familiar frame.

Patrick.

His hair was tied back, and he was wearing a pretty bland tank top (just grey), with some typical jeans. With his hair pulled back, you could see his jaw more distinctively -the sharp lines clear from even this far away. (Not that you were looking.) The sun bore down on them but all of the players seemed to be happily distracted. And you kinda were too.

You pursed your lips, for a moment, and looked forward again after a breath, heading toward the cafeteria again confidently.

Before you could get very far, though, you heard a familiar accent.

"Hey!" He yelled, a little distant -footsteps following his voice, "-Hey!"

At first, you weren't sure if he was talking to you, so you kept moving.

"Shit, I don't know what to call you," he called out, breathless and much, much closer.

You spun on your heels with furrowed brows, and met his eyes over a few people's heads. The grin that swallowed his face whole should've been criminal, bright and twinkly and... charming.

Before you could say anything, he was by your side with heavy breaths -assumedly from playing baseball and getting over to you. Leaning over slightly, he leveled out heavy breaths. You were almost concerned enough to offer him water, but he seemed to settle himself before you could.

"Hi," he echoed, "-'Ve been looking for you all morning, what time did you get here?"

You blinked, all morning?

"I get here early, 7, and immediately go to class," you answered, a little blankly (looking for you, looking for you, looking for you).

"Oh," he paused, "-I got here at 8. There's classes at 7?"

"Obviously," you respond, because you did in fact just say it.

"Did you-" Patrick started, before pursing his lips together, "-Are you going to the library now?"

You furrowed your eyebrows, "No, I'm going to the cafeteria to eat between classes. Why?"

"I'm actually quite hungry myself," he avoided the question, "-Do you mind if I tag along?"

"What about your game?" You furrowed your eyebrows even further -eyeing him curiously.

"'S just to fill time," he explained, "-It's nothing serious. They're sure to find someone to fill in for me."

You flicker your eyes along his face, trying to read him. What's your prerogative?

After a moment, you come up with nothing and instead, just turn on your heel -leading the way to the cafeteria.

"I'm taking that as a yes, then?" Patrick called out from behind you, catching up and matching your stride with ease (despite you making no move to slow down).

You decidedly don't answer him, and say something focused elsewhere -eyeing him as you walk forward, "Do you always stalk people this much?"

Patrick laughed, catching your eye with his warm brown ones (they were almost sparkly under the sun of the day), "Only the ones that blindly hate me."

You pressed your lips together in a flat line (trying not to give anything away), "I didn't say that I hated you."

His face lit up at the words (and you couldn't decide if you regretted it or not), "Well, you could've convinced me."

You roll your eyes, and keep walking forward, "Not telling you my personal information isn't... hating you."

"I'm not sure not introducing yourself is exactly anything but hatred," he argued back, fluidly.

"I just told you that I don't hate you," you point out, "-so it isn't."

"Does that mean you'll eventually tell me your name?" Patrick asked, curiously.

You turned to him, flicked your eyes over him, and then looked forward again, "Maybe on good behavior."

He burst into laughter, brown eyes set on your face, "You're quite an enigma, you know that?"

"And you're not half the mystery you portray," you fire back, naturally, with the flow of the conversation.

He grinned at that, eyes shining with something you couldn't quite label, "You know, I don't think I've met a person like you. You're fearless in like a-" he motioned with his hands, "-casual way."

"I'm not fearless," you argue, approaching the door to the cafeteria, "-I'm just confident."

"Do they not go hand-in-hand?" Patrick offers, getting to the door before you and promptly holding it open for you -unflinchingly.

Something warm stirs in your stomach at the gesture (and his woodsy scent that brushes your nose as you walk past him), but you ignore it, "You can be certain and still be afraid."

"But knowing you're right doesn't necessarily mean-" Patrick followed you in, matching your stride again, as if it's natural, "-that you're confident."

You furrow your eyebrows, genuinely intrigued, "What do you mean?"

He paused, maybe a little shocked by your attentiveness, "Plenty of people know they're right and still concede to someone else because they don't want to fight it. You-" he pointed at you, "-will fight it."

"Well," you purse your lips, avoiding his eye contact, "-maybe I'm only like this with you."

"You," Patrick paused, "-You're not this fiery ball of rage with anyone else?"

You eye him for a second, before saying flatly, "Maybe."

"All of this seething hatred and impressive indifference just for me?" He grins, the big teeth-showing kind, "-I'm touched really. Because I am special to you in some weird kinda twisted way-"

Before you can stop yourself, you let out a laugh at his words -just a quick one. Barely there.

But you could still see the delight smooth along his face, and just knew he caught it.

"How much of that have you been holding back?" He tilted his head curiously, before continuing to push it, smirking, "-Oh I bet you think I'm hilarious."

Your heart skipped a beat at the smirk, and you simply pressed your lips together and turned on your heel to the food counter. There wasn't even a second before you heard footsteps following you.

"You're not denying it, you know," he called after you, close on your tail.

You peer over the selection of food, eyeing the different items thoughtfully, "But I didn't confirm it either."

"Still not denying it," Patrick hummed, sing-songy.

"You know," you turn to him (mindlessly noting that he is very close), sharply, "-someone can have one good joke and still be unfunny."

He leaned forward slightly, eyes set on yours -challenging, "Then tell me why it came out like you were holding it back?"

You blinked at him, once and then twice, the sudden closeness sent a shock through your brain and the challenging tone of his voice nearly gave you full-body shivers. You can't find words to say, and you can nearly see it processing on Patrick's face (the way that he had made your mind melt for a moment), so you turn to the counter and point at something random for them to pick out for you.

The woman eyes the two of you suspiciously, but still diligently pulls out a to-go plate and piles the... mashed potatoes onto it.

"Oh my god," he finally says after a moment (you ignore it).

You go through a few other items, and the woman gathers them onto the plate. You pay, grab your plate-

"You like me," Patrick retorts, and you're not even looking at him but you can tell he's got a shit-eating grin.

Your brain malfunctions for a moment, but you step toward the tables and fire back (on autopilot), "I won't even tell you my name."

He's hot on your trail, following you diligently, "You're avoiding the question."

You spin to him, and reply -sharply, "You didn't ask a question."

His eyes flicker along your face, taking you in (you want to squirm but you steel yourself in place -your eyes now challenging), and then he grins so bright that you'd need sunglasses in any other scenario.

"Oh, you're really into me," he continues, low, gravelly, accented voice rumbling through your ears.

You screw up your face into something defiant, roll your eyes, and turn back to slide into a table. Patrick follows you like a lost puppy. Well, an incredibly arrogant lost puppy.

"You're still not denying it," he slides into the chair beside you and you hate the way your brain swims at the woodsy smell that brushes your nose.

"'Thought you were hungry," you say, simply (avoiding the question and decidedly not denying).

"It was very obviously a ploy," Patrick chimed back, with natural ease -tilting his head slightly and looking at you with twinkling eyes, "-They had pizza out there for all the players. I've already eaten."

Your fork froze for a millisecond (even still, you were sure he caught it), and after a moment, you pulled it to your lips. Maybe conquering both of your lack of response and the way your mind lit up at the idea of 'he just wanted to see me'.

His smile and eyes seemed to soften slightly, as he leaned his head down to catch your eye and guide it back up to your natural gaze (your heart skipped a beat). His brown eyes were soft and if you were honest, maybe a little affectionate.

"What's your name?" He finally said after a soft few moments.

And just like that, for you, the moment snapped, and you rolled your eyes -turning back to your food.

"Oh, come on," Patrick tried to catch your gaze again, "-Look, I'll tell you. Patrick Verona. That's my name-"

You bit down a smile, as he motioned to you with his hands.

"-Now, your turn, tell me yours."

You raised an eyebrow.

Patrick let out a half-laugh, before leaning forward slightly on the table -not quite a breath away, but certainly closer.

"You're so stubborn," he laughed, "-I'll beg. You want me to beg?"

You can't help but let the smile slip onto your lips then, "Why would you beg for my name?"

"Because I want it," he pointed out, still grinning "-Because I want to know you, and personally, I think it should start with a name."

Your heart fluttered in your chest, and you let your fork hang there on the path to your face. You took a moment, scampered your eyes along his face (dark brown eyes so incredibly soft, curls coming down from where he put them up in individual tendrils). Your resolve was weakening, it was really and truly broken under Patrick Verona's hand.

Stupid pretty boys-

"Y/N," you said finally (quieter than intended), immediately pulling a bite to your mouth.

Patrick blinked, "What?"

"'S my name," you explain -shortly, moving a hand in front of your mouth as you chew, "-Y/N."

His eyes lit up at the words, that stupid charming grin smoothing onto his face as he repeated, softer than expected, "Y/N."

You shove down the fluster that begs to climb up your cheeks at his accented voice saying your name. It's something you'd never really thought about but now that it's said, you probably should've thought about it.

Patrick leaned back in his chair, eyes still set on you. He was still grinning, as he said simply, "Suits you."

You furrow your eyebrows, "What's that supposed to mean?"

He raises his hands in faux surrender, laughing to himself, "Jesus, you're a true ball of rage, you know 'at?"

"I'm not-" you huff out, and take a deep breath in, "-I'm not mad."

"Defensive then," he mends, "-You act as though I'm about to strike any minute."

You pursed your lips, "Whose to say you aren't?"

"Me," Patrick laughs, "-This entire conversation. The way I've acted around you since the beginning-"

"Oh, shut up," you roll your eyes, unable to stop the smile creeping onto your lips, "-you were an asshole once."

He groaned, but something like amusement was twinkling in his eyes, "You are the most stubborn human being on this earth-"

"You took my spot," you interrupt, sturdy.

"-It's public property," Patrick argued back, "-and how was I supposed to know it was yours before I sat in it?"

You paused, for a moment, before saying, "You couldn't. But, you could have given it to me when I asked."

"And then we wouldn't be here," he explained, now fully grinning, "-and wouldn't that just be such a bore."

Your eyes swam over his face a moment, Patrick Verona. And his dumb persistence. And his stupid handsome face-

God.

You let out a long sigh, picking around at your food. Eyes watching the swirl of your fork, you debate a few different things to say. Finally, after a few spare seconds, you made up your mind.

"Yeah," you hum, flickering your eyes up to his, "-it would."

Patrick grinned, big and bright and twinkly (you felt your heart skip a beat in your chest). His eyes, the deep brown that if you weren't careful you could stare at for way too long, were soft but still sort of happy, eager. Definitely eager.

And maybe, just maybe, you could get used to-

"I told you I could work on the 'stranger' thing," he suddenly said, smirking, "-You never should've doubted me."

"What?" You raised an eyebrow, confused.

"You said-" Patrick explained, "-you don't give your name out to strangers. And I said I could work on that part-"

You level a look at him.

"-And look, I did," he continued, before adding with a smirk, "-I have successfully escaped the cavernous barrier, deeper than the ocean I'd say, that walls you off from any poor soul who wishes to know you-"

"You're really pushing it, Verona," you chime back, fiery (but not quite all the way).

"What?" He raised his eyebrows, like he said nothing at all to warrant the reaction, "-You can't tell me that it's not like pulling teeth getting to know you. Or trying to anyway-"

You press your lips onto a flat line, "Wow, you must be a sort of masochist, then?

He faltered for a second, before laughing a little, "Oh absolutely, I chase the high of you ignoring me for 2 hours straight every day."

You rolled your eyes, biting down a smile, "I despise you."

"Better that than indifferent," he responded with ease, "-I prefer you feeling something rather than nothing at all."

"Oh my god-"

It continued like that, a back and forth, as you finish eating your mediocre cafeteria lunch. The silence is sparse but not uncomfortable when Patrick isn't running his mouth, that is. It was nice. Insanely nice. You'd probably never had as much fun on this campus as you did with him, just in general, but...

"Same time Wednesday?" He poses with a cheeky grin, leaning onto one hand against the table -closer to you than before.

You felt something warm swirl into your stomach, as your eyes flickered over his face. He was still smiling, like he wasn't able to stop when he was here with you. And something in you never wanted to see it go away anyway.

So, with a slight head tilt and a brighter grin than what you'd let slip past all day, you repeated.

"Same time Wednesday."

[embracing-the-ineffable]

Beware clickbait accusations

Hi fandom, here's what happened yesterday: A reporter named Rachel Johnson, who is the sister to Boris Johnson and a big terfy supporter of JK Rowling, released a 4-part true crime podcast featuring two women accusing Neil Gaiman of SA. Yesterday. The day before the UK elections. This post explores the possible political links in more detail.

CW: this post is free of graphic details, but if you follow these links, there may be explicit descriptions of sex, kink, and bdsm, plus mentions of mental illness and suicidal thoughts.

I want to believe and support survivors, and I also want to base my thoughts and actions on facts. I thought the xitter livestream commentary from Not Becky for all 4 episodes was very insightful. There's also a first episode transcript without extra commentary. (Edit: released after I wrote this post: the full audio plus transcripts for all four episodes of the podcast are now available to download here, or you can read all four transcripts in your browser.) I have since concluded (pending more time to think and read and learn, or any new information, of course):

This seems like the worst kind of clickbait, an unjustified mess that will hurt everyone involved (except possibly a few politicians who might benefit somehow, we'll see). The evidence the "reporters" present directly contradicts their accusations. They're counting on people reading headlines and not digging any deeper.

They tried to make something sinister where there was apparently consent and a caring relationship. Have they exploited one or both of these women? S, in particular, is described as vulnerable and with a history of unspecified mental illness. They have all of the message history between S and Neil, and her messages make the sexy stuff between the two of them sound enthusiastically consensual. There are even messages (multiple!) where she specifically says everything was consensual. Here's one:

They're playing horror music in the background to try to make us feel horrified, even as S reassures us that things were consensual. It's emotional manipulation by the reporters.

The times S sounds upset during the interview are the times she talks about Neil leaving her behind or not paying attention to her. Not the times she talks about consent violations. Her stories during the interview are inconsistent, and they contradict her messages with Neil and with others. Maybe we'll get better information from a more reputable news source, or maybe not, I don't know. I also don't know why anyone who cares about her would have advised her to do this interview.

Then they tracked down lots of other women who know/have dated Neil and they all had glowing things to say, except one other lover from 20 years ago, K. She described some bad sex, and then pointed to a time in their 2-year relationship when she felt something wasn't consensual and he thought it was. And after their breakup, they continued to text and flirt, for decades.

This podcast "exposé" feels like explosive clickbait with political ramifications. The evidence here doesn't support a pattern of poor conduct so much as establish Neil as a fellow well-meaning human with imperfect judgement. That doesn't mean the accusations are all made up; intimate partner violence is complicated, and the responsibility for checking in and getting regular enthusiastic consent from partners is very real, especially when kink or bdsm are involved.

I don't know what the right balance is here between supporting survivors, thinking critically, assuming good intentions, and waiting for better information, but I feel confident that this podcast alone is not enough to condemn anyone aside from the irresponsible journalists who inflicted it on the rest of us.

PS/edit: I'm tagging my relevant posts (mostly reblogs) with #ineffable grief, and you can see all of them here.

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Realizations

Dad!Simon Ghost Riley x Wife!Reader

Thank you guys so much for 1k, it means the whole world for me because now once did I expect to ever have my page grown this big and not once had I imagined that I would make these many friends here who happened to be so sweet. Also to @connorsui who has been most definitely been waiting the answer to this.

So in honor of 1k, I wrote this long awaited backstory for Ghost and Lovie (Ghostie's parents) that I hope you guys will enjoy since it so happens that our beloved @ave661 has posted another Dad!Ghost render. (Credits to her again for the renders in this post <3) (Sweetie, I love you but that tag on Soap with this render was unnecessary 😭🫶)

To the people who congratulated me, through replies, likes and reblogs, I owe y'all a fat kiss. Mwahhh <333

My CoD Masterlist

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @cutenote @connorsui @capuccino192 @thesnowurzikdjinn @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @trepaika @starryylies @demidemon09

Warnings/Disclaimers: Stalking (not by Simon), Typical mentions of CoD violence?, Mentions of Simon's past abuse, Creepy guy?? (Not Simon), Mentions of violent and a bit gory descriptions on what wanted to do to the stalker, This is not proofread yet.

With the words of my mother and in true reputation style, Are you ready for it?

I think I need to say this on my account again, English is NOT my first language and all copyrights regarding the plot and some characters within the storyline belong to me. Edit: please help me y'all, I'm losing so much relevance in the span of less than a month, my recent works have gotten nothing and I'm scared that this post proves that. I think I've learned my lesson never to take breaks ever again 😭

Simon never imagined himself in this predicament, always thinking that he'd be out there somewhere, more likely drowning himself in a mission. Not even a home, he thought that if it hadn't for your persuasiveness to interact with him back then then he'd still be back in that shitty apartment complex.

Simon placed his duffle bag on the wood of the porch, the jingling of his keys while he looked for the correct one. He tried his best to make as little noise as possible, it was passed midnight, the last thing he would want was to disturb his wife and daughter from resting.

Hauling the duffle bag in and throwing it on the couch, Simon opt to see what his girls were up to. The giggling and commotion making him smile, you both were supposed to be asleep by now but you were unable to put her to rest because she's just too hyper, so that left you to entertain her by tossing her up and catching her.

"Dada..!" A squeal from the room came, the little one snapping her head to the opening of the door making you look as well, Simon took a peek from the half-way opened door.

Adorable little thing clapping her hands together, pleased that her dad is home while sitting on her mom. She got off, crawling near the edge of the bed with no sense of danger, fortunate for her that her dad is quick with catching her before you could.

You took a deep breath from the shock, looking at your husband and smiling sweetly at him. He asked you not to get off the bed as you were about to, laying next to you he snakes his arm underneath you on your waist and pulls you in.

"I missed my girls.." He said, voice deep and laced with exhaustion, despite that his hold and gaze was the warmest it could be.

"We missed you too Si, so much." You mumbled as your eyes flutter shut to enjoy his touch. You opened them to the sound of a kiss, he kissed the little one's forehead then yours.

Sometimes you vaguely remember the first time he and you met, how it even came to be, this life of domesticity. You, him and your little girl, family is a heavy word for Simon but it was just perfect. This was the family he wanted, the family that he thought he didn't deserve and never would have.

The feeling of coming home to all this started because you were so forgetful, who knew that would be the skill that brought you to him..?

• ──── ✦ ──── •

He emptied his pockets, to the lieutenant's dismay, the box of cigarettes only had one stick left. Since he was going out to smoke it anyway, he might as well get another box from the convenience store nearby. He took his keys from the kitchen counter and headed out, hearing a little commotion that peeked his interest.

Simon never paid much mind to whatever was going on within his apartment building despite the many gossips that were present within the building and the renters. So it happens that the old lady next to his place mentions how they'll be a new tenant in the other apartment next to his.

'Thank God' Simon thought, not that he was particularly religious but he'd been hoping for the longest time for the former renter to leave because let's be honest, who wants to live next to a frat boy with no sense of shame or consideration given that walls are thin? Little did he know he'd be blessed with the next one..

"Oh- I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to.." Simon hears a voice from a little below him, he'd only register what had happened after the fact. Poor girl carrying this box bumped into him a little too hard, so much so that she stumbled back a bit.

You stared up to the 6'4 man blinking, he only shrugged it off to which you smiled to. You tried to make small talk since you were new and it wouldn't hurt to at least know one person right? After all, you were trying to step out a bit of your comfort zone.

"Hi.. I'm [Name].." He only stared at you for a while and replied, "Simon.." you gave him a warm smile before nodding and continuing to bring the boxes into your new apartment while your new neighbor entered the elevator.

You cut the boxes open to start unpacking, a few minutes in and you decided to go on a short break, you rummaged through the small box of food only to find that the recently bought box of tea was empty. You sighed at this, humming as you remembered the convenience store you passed by earlier on the way to the apartment.

Taking your keys and locking the door behind you, you made your way out the complex and walked a few blocks, you only started to notice how late it was with the streetlights coming on even though the sun is only about to set. That's something to get used to, hmm?

The cool breeze hits your skin as you enter, scent of faint instant coffee and many other kinds of foods and products made themselves known. You walked around for a while, checking on what other things you might need but then you tried to remind yourself that you were saving up and on a budget so you took a box of tea and walked up to the register.

You heard footsteps behind you falling in line, after placing the box on the counter, you searched your pockets for your wallet.

'Shit..!' you cursed yourself out mentally trying not to panic as Simon basically watches you frantically patting your pockets, you left your wallet back at the apartment. "You left your wallet-" Simon stated the obvious, "I'll cover it.." there wasn't even a time to argue with him, he just stepped next to you and placed the pack of cigarettes.

"I'll pay you back as soon as we get back to the apartment" You insisted to which Simon only shrugged and declined, it's just a box of tea and it's not like it'll make him go bankrupt, besides he liked your taste, the one you got happened to be his favorite brand.

Since you were headed in the same place anyway, you and Simon walked back together side by side, however one thing you did find odd was when he gently took you wrist and pulled you inward next to him, he was the one now closest to the road.

The walk back was silent, a comfortable silence. A few days after that encounter, you made sure to make an effort for him to know that you appreciated his gesture back at the convenience store. The lieutenant was alarmed by the knock on his door, opening it to find no person but a tupperware filled with buttery shortbread cookies.

He smiled at how tiny the plastic container looked in his hands, how he noticed the note attached "Thanks for the tea, this isn't that special but I hope you like it -[Name]" and the Sanrio themed stickers stuck onto the lid and on the top part of the tiny note. You ran out of sticky notes..

Simon found himself snacking on those cookies later on, oddly enough, they reminded him of his mom.. how she used to love baking back then, it was her way of escape whenever Simon's "father" wasn't home, as well as gardening.

For the first time in a while Simon "Ghost" Riley let out a smile that wasn't smug or a smirk but a genuine smile, one that had warmth to it, one that no matter how hard his mind tried to surppress it, his body refused to.

It didn't take long for you and Simon to get to know each other a bit, little by little it seemed like you two were becoming like friends rather than just neighbors. Let's be honest, who just randomly gives their neighbors weekly baked goods for the sole reason of "just because they wanted to"?

You found yourself always looking forward to the Friday nights chilling with him at the rooftop, mugs with hot tea on hand while he smoked and you read.

Listening to his stupid jokes and remarks that slowly turn into deep conversations and life things. Simon was just... far more open than he's ever been, sure he's talked about his day before to his comrades but never like this, not in a way where he's pouring his heart out, letting you in on how he feels about certain things.

He just got back from a mission, a rough one to be exact. Shoulders slumped from exhaustion as he walked the streets near the apartment complex, no space for his bike so he had to leave it somewhere private while he fidgeted with it's keys.

Simon swore that he almost jumped out of his own body, first instinct being to push you off but he recognized you. He gave you a questioning look, hands were shaking as you so desperately linked you arm around his.

"Hmm?" He hummed, hearing you mumbling something but it was incoherent to his ears.

"Behind us.. please Si, help..." Come to think if it, you never knew when Simon turned into Si. Best believe he knew and still remembers when perfectly.. not the time, there's a serious threat, he didn't look. He didn't need to, guessing by the heavy footsteps, some creep decided to follow you at this hour.

He slowly slipped his arm away from your grip and snaked it around your waist, pulling you in closer to his side while the two of you continued treading closer to the complex. You closed your eyes for a few seconds at a time hoping it would end.

• ──── ✦ A few days later ✦ ──── •

Knocking, frantic knocking was what Simon heard at his door. He wasn't expecting anyone, so why the sudden visit? He opened the door and saw you, Simon knew something was off from the look on your face, you looked pale as if you were sick to your stomach while trying so desperately to catch your breath.

"Can I please come in.. Simon..?" You asked in between breaths. You looked around you, especially behind you, body shivering a bit. He took notice of this and had no hesitation, he pulled you in by your arm. His grip firm but gentle, Simon closed the door behind him.

"Remember that guy who was creeping around when I asked for your help..?" You tried to explain but Simon already knew the moment your mouth opened. You had a stalker.. it was best to call the cops on shit like this.

Simon did his best even though not knowing much about how to comfort someone, he did well in making you feel safe without having to tell you that he'll do so, you just know it in your gut that he'd protect you even if it's just now.

Your breath picked up, slowly backing away from the door as you heard footsteps, clenching your fists and hoping that he didn't see you enter Simon's door. Simon wrapped his arms around you, keeping you in place and from further backing away from the door.

You felt his palm drag up and down your back, it was extremely warm, it stopped for a while. His arm wrapped around your waist, other hand in your hair pushing your head down a bit so it was buried in his chest while you gripped his shirt. Simon felt your trembling body against him slowly relax.

"Deep breaths, angel.." The nickname he whispered would've made you smile under any other circumstance but not right now, you needed to calm your nerves before you panic and make an impulsive decision that could hurt yourself. Like instructed, you followed along Simon's demonstration, pressing his forehead onto yours maybe just a bit too intimately.

You winced at the loud sound of banging on the door, you knew it too well. Simon shoved the handle of his combat knife in your hand, he told you that if anything were to happen, protect yourself with it.

As soon as the Lieutenant swung the door open, you could hear punches, things knocking over and among other things, your stalker's voice.

You'd never forget that, how pitchy it was. Nails on the chalkboard was the best way to describe it, how the man was cackling almost made you annoyed. Simon called on security and the man was dealt with, you came out from hiding and saw both fear and anger in Simon's eyes.

You would never know how much he wanted to tear that man's heart after skinning him alive for even bringing fear into your eyes.

Simon "I care too much for someone I just met" Riley finally saw how his knuckles and fingernails were caked with blood, went off to go wash it and himself.

Getting back to you after half an hour, you reached out for him only for him to withdraw, you looked at him confused and he looks at you with pure guilt..

Your eyes widened in realization, "Oh Simon.. I'm not scared.." you smiled at him. He reached out a shaky hand to you, hesitating before closing his hand back.

You took his hand in yours, bringing it up to your lips and giving it a small kiss, hoping it calms his nerves. Well it did the opposite, it even more overwhelming for him having you kiss his palm while you look up at him, watching you nudge your face into his palm so invitingly.

The way your lashes just sat perfectly atop your cheeks while you slowly blinked up at him. Pressing the same scarred and calloused hands that almost killed a man that night on your face and rubbing the back with you thumb.

Simon had never felt that much guilt before for hurting someone, only after he saw the look in your eyes, which in turn were not something he caused. For the first time in his life too, Simon was comforted by something or rather someone immensely..

[unstable-samurai]

Breathing This Calm Night - smut

Yunjin x Male Reader

ONE-SHOT

Tags: fluff, oral sex, one-shot, tightjob, penetration, k-idol, famous girl, secret relationship

A/n: This is my first request. Thanks @dav1233555 for the plot suggestion 🫡

The two of you were anxiously dragging yourself towards the end of the day. Slowly the hours passed, seeming to last longer than they should, while a hurried and hard routine was followed, with no time to even exchange a few messages.

But you were finally free, at least for now, from the mess that is a magazine of international relevance.

I'm arriving

You read the message and smiled at the phone screen. It wasn't crowded at the restaurant you chose to have dinner at. You reflected for a moment, and thought there was a bit of madness in what you two were doing, but it was indisputable that it was genuine and pure.

Truth be told, this whole thing was real. And thinking that this could be a bit crazy (in other people's eyes, to be more precise) only made your panoramic view of society more bitter.

After all, what was so great about being a foreigner and dating a K-idol? Well, you weren't the guy who was going to change the view of an entire society, so worrying about it was useless.

At least there was some security that this relationship would not be leaked to the media. Well, you were in fact part of the fucking media. There was support from the magazine you worked for (not that you were the owner or anything), and at least no one on your team would poke your eye out. Some other editors you trust already knew about your relationship. It was one of the countless advantages of being in a high position in the company and having a strong influence on what happened inside. I mean, someone from the magazine could try to fuck with you, snakes exist everywhere, doing this in an attempt to self-promote or even abandon ship, handing over the leak of your relationship to another magazine or tabloid (in the headline the motherfuckers would find a way to use the word "affair", just because your previous relationship ended a month before you met Yunjin). But you would discover the funny guy so easily that there wouldn't even be any fun in solving the mystery. All it took was a single call to your father, simply the greatest editor-in-chief who worked at the magazine's headquarters. Already retired, but still exercising great decision-making power thanks to his long years of contributions to the magazine. Your old man was seen almost as a royal advisor or a wise monk where directors, managers and editors from various sectors of the magazine went to ask for advice and help. You were relatively shielded from leaks.

You noticed her approaching. Well disguised, with glasses, hair tied back and comfortable clothes. She looked like just another ordinary girl. You couldn't help but notice the NY Knicks sweatshirt you had given her as a gift, it was both of your favorite team.

She greeted you with a discreet hug. You still hadn't gotten used to the fact that you couldn't give a peck in public que in South Korea. In your perception, it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Hi, baby! How are you?" she asked you as she sat down at the table.

"Better now, honey. What about you?"

"The same!"

"Was the day as hard as always?" you asked.

"Yeah, definitely!" she replied. Yunjin seemed eager for this question. She continued: “In the morning I had rap class. By the way, I think I'm getting better. Oh, and in the afternoon I recorded my lines, like, over and over again. The music producer has a very specific vision of what he wants for this track. He apologized and admitted that it might take some time to achieve the desired result.”

"Well, I trust your talent. Remember that you and your group are dealing with a delicate concept. I have seen up close the production of albums that address intimate themes, it is always a challenge, but also a true work and certainly a amazing gift for the fans. You girls are going to do great."

Yunjin laughed, a little shyly.

"It feels like I'm talking to a music critic instead of my boyfriend."

"Well, you're actually talking to a music critic. Oh, by the way, I remembered that I won't be writing the article about Le Sserafim's new album like I said before."

Her expression was one of surprise. Yunjin asked:

"Is it because of me?”

"Yes." you answered honestly. “Well, look, love, I'm prioritizing our relationship and thinking about the future. If this is for real, eventually the press will hear about us together, and a review from me about my girlfriend's music group obviously it would make my opinion seem partial and biased. It's just to avoid future problems."

"Okay" She looked upset. "But I'll still want to know your opinion when you hear the album."

"I'm really looking forward to hearing it." You smiled, making her feel better. "I left the review about the new album for a good friend of mine to write. I really respect her opinion."

"Well, i think we're in good hands. But let's stop talking about work for a bit!"

The waiter seemed to have heard Yunjin's speech as he appeared to save them right after she finished saying that. Yunjin had great taste in food, that's why she always chose the order for the two of you, you weren't the "culinary trailblazer" type; a few months in South Korea and you only knew five typical dishes (always returning to the arms of the big fast-food chains).

"Oh, I almost forgot to give you this!" You handed her a gift. "It had been on my lap for so long that I had forgotten I had brought it with me."

"Oh, baby! You didn't have to do that!"

She started to unwrap it.

"Hope you like."

You waited for her reaction. Yunjin smiled and made a cute little noise when she saw that it was a book (although she already knew from the shape of the gift wrap).

"You know I love reading! Thank you so much."

"It's The Alchemist. I know you love fantasy and this silly self-help thing. This book is a mix of both."

You saw her eyes light up.

"You're perfect. I love how well you know me. And self-help isn't silly, it's very good for evolving as a human being." she scolded you.

You shrugged.

"It's not the kind of thing I'd like to put on my bookshelf. But to each their own.”

She laughed.

"I'm still going to make you read one of these."

"Well, I've already read The Alchemist. If for me it's average, for you it will be a masterpiece."

★

It was around 10pm when the two of you finally arrived at your apartment. Dinner was very good, especially dessert (that bingsu thing was really delicious), and by that night there was no more energy for more fun, it was preferable to have a good night's sleep so that the next day you could do something together. Even so, Yunjin hummed excitedly in the car on the way home. You appreciated all that joy.

You took off your shoes while Yunjin took off her NY Knicks sweatshirt, leaving only a tight tank top on her body. You noticed that she wasn't wearing a bra by the way her breasts showed through the fabric of her tank top. You slowly approached her and grabbed her from behind, kissing her repeatedly. Yunjin wrapped her hands around your neck as she giggled at the series of kisses.

“Will you be my teddy bear tonight?” she asked sweetly. “I need your affection so much, baby.”

“Whatever you need, sweetie.” You said as you kissed her on the neck.

Things were heating up. Your hands slid down Yunjin's soft belly, heavy sighs escaped her mouth unconsciously.

“Look, we still need to shower.” she said.

"No problem." you answered.

“You're putting me in the mood. I'm warning you that if you keep touching me like this, you're going to have to go all the way to finish what you started.”

“And since when has this been a problem for me?” you asked as you led her to the couch.

You took off your shirt and belt from your pants. Yunjin took off her jeans, leaving only her tank top and adorable pink panties. Your hand slid down Yunjin's left thigh while you kissed her right thigh. That was more than enough to give her goosebumps. She had her legs wide open, waiting, almost begging, for you to touch that place. Instead of doing it right away, you decided to play with her a little, kissing and biting her inner thigh while using one of your hands to lightly massage her pussy through her panties. Your lips slid to Yunjin's crotch, where you licked the entire area, she reveled in the act, trying hard not to close her legs with the spasms she was having. It didn't take long for a wet stain to darken the pink of the panties. When you finally removed Yunjin's panties, you saw how wet she was. So horny that she couldn't wait for you, fingering her pussy slowly, opening it with her fingers so you could see how drooling she was; a successful action of provoking you. Then you realized how hard your cock was, pulsing in your pants, painfully tight, which made you hornier.

Without wasting any more time, you dived between Yunjin's legs, eager to taste her (that flavor that was becoming increasingly familiar and addictive… Part of your life. Yeah, we could put it that way), your tongue delighting in the taste and the cozy warmth of the inside of her pussy, while Yunjin moaned softly, digging her nails into the sofa cushions.

“I love it when you suck me like that, baby. You make me feel so good!” she moaned.

At one point she asked to stop because her lust was unbearable and that way he would have an orgasm in a short time.

“I want to feel your cock inside me now.” she said. You had just taken off your underwear when she added, “Wait, what if we fuck in the bathroom. Let’s save time, what do you think?”

Your response was to lift her off the couch and take her to the bathroom. You turned on the light with your elbow and, before you could think of anything, she said:

“Fuck me like this! Your cock goes deep into my pussy when you fuck me in the air.”

You kissed her intensely while you tried to fit your dick into her pussy. The feeling of your cock sliding inside Yunjin was wonderful. Upon realizing that your cock was well placed inside her, you grabbed Yunjin's thighs tightly and began to thrust into her energetically while she held onto you, moaning compulsively.

And Yunjin was right, your dick went deep in that position. You could feel her deep inside, the entire length of your cock was being used, and she loved it. When she announced her orgasm, you wanted to make sure it was intense and pleasurable, the way it made her roll her eyes, so you lifted her a little higher, grabbing her ass, while Yunjin wrapped her legs inside your arms, making her practically hang from you and her pussy is completely inside your dick.

“Oh God, Baby! I’m cumming!”

She trembled holding onto you, while you practically rubbed her pussy on your dick, always rotating it close to your body. It was just a shame that you couldn't enjoy her eyes rolling back at the moment of orgasm, you simply loved seeing her go crazy with pleasure, but there was also a certain contentment in just knowing that it happened.

You sat Yunjin down on the sink and there you started fucking her again, looking deeply into her eyes. At one point she looked at you with so much passion, so much desire that there was a sudden growing desire to fill her pussy with your load of cum.

“Hang me, love.” she asked affectionately.

Her hand wrapped around just over half of her neck, serving as support to fuck her even harder. Sweat running down both bodies, your gaze was lost between the mirror's reflection, her eyes, her tits and her expressions of pleasure. With the sensations highlighted, you realized how much you loved Yunjin and how much this feeling contributed to eminent pleasure during sex.

Holy shit! You were almost there.

You thought about how much you wanted to go deep into this, literally to the end, but you were without a condom and suddenly stopping the act to go get a condom at the end of the championship was a bit... discouraging.

But you have an idea.

“Stand up, sweetie” you said. “Let’s try something new.”

Yunjin got out of the sink, looking at you excitedly.

“Get in the shower stall with me.” you asked, opening the door.

"What do you want to do?"

“It’s nothing out of this world, but it occurred to me that you’ve never given me a tightjob, I think it’s time we tried it.”

She had some assumptions about what this position was, but you helped her anyway. Yunjin was a rather tall girl, so there were no problems for your dick to fit between her thighs, the result was perfect, nothing uncomfortable. You thought about turning on the shower to lube up a little, but her pussy was so wet and the continuous sweat running down between her thighs was already more than great. You grabbed Yunjin's waist tightly and she crossed her legs a little, squeezing your dick.

You began to thrust into her, your cock sliding back and forth as you dragged Yunjin's labia. So you discovered in the best way that this was very pleasurable for both of you. The internal heat started inside you again and gradually you lost yourself in that exciting sensation. As you approached the final explosion, you bestially grabbed Yunjin in every way possible, sliding your sweat-damp hands down her belly, squeezing her breasts and slapping her ass. You lost yourself in the voluptuousness that was Yunjin's body and- Fuck! She loved it. She loved being your instrument of pleasure, knowing that the person she loved so much reached maddening peaks of passion, desire and lust for her. A juice of feelings for an insatiable thirst.

“Oh baby! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna-”

Without any warning, Yunjin began to move her hips in a rhythm that immediately took you to the precipice of pleasure. The soft, hot, wet, suffocating skin of her thighs dancing over your cock. This was too much for you. When you came, you hugged Yunjin tightly, holding her as if your life depended on it, giving in to inconstant and uncontrollable moans close to her ear. The frantic thrusts lost their rhythm, going deeper and slower through Yunjin's thighs. She held your arms affectionately, waiting for your breathing to become less labored before kissing you.

"I love you." You said to her.

The phrase was so loaded with something that covered your feelings at that moment, and you wished she was the woman of your life and would never leave your side.

"I love you too!" said Yunjin when she found a way out of your tongue. “Baby, you don’t know how much.”

“This took longer than expected. Let’s take our shower.”

“Yep! Let's go."

You turned on the shower. The hot running water was invigorating, even more so being next to Yunjin, you didn't know that sharing certain intimacies was so special until you finally did it with her. you soaped Yunjin's entire body, she helped you wash your back and you shampooed her hair, gently massaging her scalp; it was cute how it relaxed her, she seemed so surrendered to you in that moment, and just a few months ago you were sitting across from her and the other Le Sserafim girls, asking incisive questions about the creative process of their latest album. That's where it all started, after all. And who could say where it would end?

“Hey, baby, let me shampoo your hair now.” Yunjin said with a cutie smile.

Nobody, you thought. Nobody could say.

A/n: sorry for any grammatical errors 😅

[causenessus]

comforting you. | bungou stray dogs

inc. chuuya, dazai, ranpo, odasaku

written is second pov (no gendered pronouns used)

"you deserve this." by men i trust

word count: 4.6k words

notes/warnings: separate scenarios for each bsd man and how they comfort you when you’re feeling down, giving you both love and realistic advice. i feel like i bounced between writing generalized headcanons and hyperspecific scenarios, so i’m sorry but i hope you enjoy this <3 each of you is deserving of so much love and patience <3 you deserve to be here <3 each pairing is in an established relationship. also (relevant for odasku’s scenario), the orphans are still alive. my writing my universe. i'm actually beastzai in another au where everyone lives and is happy and everything is okay. use of pet names "sweetheart" (chuuya scenario) "angel" (dazai scenario) and "love" (oda). general hurt/comfort drabbles :) lmk if I should add anything! i would NOT consider this proofread because I read it half-asleep at midnight trying to edit it so forgive me for any mistakes 🙏

special shoutouts to @dorotheasdiary + @aouzi for hyping me up/listening to my rambles abt this work!! sorry for the tag </3

chuuya.

sometimes the urge to give up became too strong. 

was it too much to ask time to stop for just one day? it seemed all your pleas to the sky were falling on deaf ears.

still, as all things do, you eventually lost the motivation to keep pushing forward on your own.

like a runner who trips upon a small pebble and can’t get back into their pace, slowly, slowly falling behind the others.

the one difference was that you had come to a complete stop. you'd never allowed yourself a break until you were completely burnt out; unable to move even a muscle.

you haven’t even made it out of bed the whole day. 

the room was starting to feel sick and stuffy with how long you’d laid in those sheets that no longer seemed to provide any comfort. rather, you felt like you were simply dirtying the sheets by continuing to lie there, purposeless, useless.

you barely had it in you to call out of work before drifting back into a mundane sleep that you continued to wake up and fall back into for the better half of the day. you hadn’t looked at your phone after sending a quick text to your manager, unprepared for whatever kind of passive-aggressive response they'd messaged back with because of your late notice. the unknown was too much right now, you couldn't focus on anyone you couldn't read but yourself. you didn’t want to be around friends, family, or people out on the street, where your mind would run rapid laps around itself, trying to figure out what everyone thought of you.

at work, it was the same; sizing yourself up to your coworkers, figuring out how well-liked you were— how replaceable you would be if one day you suddenly up and dropped, or, more likely in your mind, you annoyed everyone enough that they let you go. 

never really knowing what others thought terrified you. obviously it wasn't the norm despite living in a world filled with those gifted with abilities to be able to read another's mind but that didn’t mean your mind could simply let the anxieties go. your head always seemed to be buzzing, preoccupied with concerns about something.

which is why you had tried to block everything out, the moment you woke up this morning and every rustle of your legs tumbled in the sheets was too loud for your ears; a playlist of music on shuffle played softly from your phone nearby, giving your brain something mindless to focus on while you had your head pressed between pillows to deafen out the rest of the world.

you didn’t feel any better or any energized despite how much you had slept today, but at the very least, sleep often took you away from constantly having to listen to whatever your mind wanted to rave and overthink next.

'what time is it? have i even gotten up once today? i should at least walk around. clean up. i'll never be motivated to get out of bed like this—' there your head went, taking one simple question and turning it into spindles of chains to wrap around your throat.

but when you feel the mattress sink beside you, suddenly everything goes quiet. the sheets become just sheets again–not something you’re sinking into or dirtying. someone has opened the curtains, revealing an orange sunset outside, and something nice is playing from the speaker of your phone, you realize.

he is the only one who doesn’t make your head spin. he is your grounding anchor, the gravitational force keeping your feet planted on this earth, opening your eyes to the beauty of the world you couldn’t otherwise see due your own anxieties.

“you been here all day?” he must have snuck in without you even hearing him (which isn’t hard to believe, considering the cushions you’d just been pressing to both of your ears), even giving him enough time to change. chuuya’s hair is still in a loose ponytail and he wears that black choker around his neck as always, but he’s dressed in a white shirt and some sweatpants, his gloveless hands reaching out to rub circles in your back.

he’s bare with you, and that’s what you love most about him.

you’ve had you’re insecurities about not being good enough for him and anything else typical within a relationship, but he never leaves you wondering. he grabs your hand to keep you from floating away too far, getting lost in your own thoughts, often pulling you back into the moment, when you’re lying in bed with him on quiet nights, the sides of your faces only lit by a nearby warm bedside lamp. he’ll trace the side of your face, searching your eyes, asking, “where did you go?”

and you can’t always answer, but you know, every time he asks you this question, that at least you can tell him where you are now. you’re at home with him. 

and this moment is no different, with his calloused hands gliding up and down your back, and you only let out a small whine, shuffling closer to him as best as you can with how tangled you are up in his sheets.

“what’s wrong?” he asks softly, head tilting towards you slightly as you shimmy closer. “how can i help, sweetheart?”

you like how clear he is. how he always tells you what he’s thinking. he never leaves anything up to interpretation, always silencing your thoughts before they can make an assumption and run far with it.

while in the beginning of your relationship, it was hard to always voice what you needed, you came to realize with time that when chuuya asked you what he could do to help, it wasn’t him pressuring you to tell him what was wrong. it was simply how his head worked; he wanted you to be clear about what you needed. if that meant talking out your problems, he would listen. if that meant leaving you alone, he’d give you as much time as you needed (albeit probably checking in at some points just to make sure you didn’t need anything, it was just his nature to care for you). but all in all, he just needed you to talk to him. he would talk to you, you would talk to him. that's how miscommunication was prevented. your mind always felt so clear when you were around him because of how rationally he seemed to think of everything—all you had to do was follow his lead, and everything else came easily. things were never sugar-coated between the two of you, they were said plain and simple. (and with how charming he was, chuuya’s words often ended up being just as sweet as sugar anyway, not even needing to be wrapped up in some false front. when he said “i love you,” it was something clear. a fact, not something said just to appease you or mellow things out, he said it because he meant it).

and how refreshing it was, being lost in a sea of your own murky, unclear thoughts based off of assumptions upon assumptions, to be pulled from that ocean to the shoreline and be promised that the sun would rise again.

eventually, opening up to him became easier. even thought it sometimes took a few hours, you always ended up telling him what was on your mind and he waited patiently every time. he only ever listened unless you asked for more, and he never invalidated your feelings. trusting that he was just going to listen to you, it began to take even less time to prepare yourself to open up. it became as easy as taking a sip of water; something you had to do voluntarily, but was still needed, healing, and often refreshing.

the pitch of your voice slightly heightens as you hum a “yes” in response to his question, curling up closer to him, and his fingers have found their way into your hair, combing through it. “got tired of everything,” you whisper softly, resting your forehead against the side of his thigh, thankful for his contact.

“yeah? i’m sure you did, baby. you’re doing a lot. it’s good to take a break every now and then. anything in particular spur you to take the day off? there’s no shame in just deciding to take a rest day for the hell of it either, though,” he speaks as gently as his actions, shifting slightly on the bed so that you can rest more comfortably, your head now laying in his lap, and he brushes your hair out of your face as you look up at him and his pretty bangs framing his face as he leans down towards you.

you hum in thought at the question, searching your brain for the answer. was there something that had triggered you to break today? or was it just the build-up of it all? “not really anything in particular,” you shrug slightly, still admiring his golden-brown eyes, hooded and soft, gazing into your own, “just felt like everything came toppling down today. i’ve just been thinking too much about what others think of me. i don’t feel that important to the world, or my job. i’m easily replaceable–nothing special–and yet i have to keep fighting for this job. i have to fight to occupy space for myself in the world when i never even asked to be here in the first place. —and of course you make everything better but i mean–you know me. you’re good to me. you’re too good to me. and sometimes i can’t understand why you waste all of that goodness in you on me.” by the time you’re finished, he’s gently lifted your head out of his lap to lay down on his side next to you, continuing to face you the entire time. 

you finish your long-winded explanation of unreasonable worries, and he only stares into your face, and you begin to shift under his eyes uncomfortably. his head his propped up in his hands, and he wears a small smile on his face, eyes flicking every few moments to focus on a different part of your face. “...chuu?” you whisper his name quietly, and his smile only grows.

“sorry, got too caught up admiring your pretty face,” he apologizes, and there he goes again, being so honest it makes your heart squeeze sometimes. he shifts his position slightly, reaching out his free hand to intertwine his slender fingers with yours, gently pressing the pads of his fingertips against your own, playing with them. “well, first of all, don’t think of your life through the lens that you are now. you can’t control or read anyone else’s mind, and that’s okay. people make a lot of irrational decisions anyway, it’s impossible to predict what someone will do, so don’t worry about what they think. what makes how they perceive you or what they think more correct than what you feel? they could be totally wrong about something, and they are if they think you’re replaceable, or bad, or whatever. don’t make yourself smaller for anyone else. you’re so smart and thoughtful and if anyone makes you feel bad about who you are, i’ll talk shit back to them, alright?”

you nod at his words but don’t meet his attempt to lighten the mood, only shifting closer again, hiding your face in his chest, breathing in his scent. his hand is back on your head, keeping you close while combing through your hair. “i think you're perfect as you are, [y/n]. i wouldn't want you any other way. you're the only thing on my mind all the time and you’re all i think about—if you're worried about what goes through my mind. i'll always be here for you, i'll be right behind you even if the world is against you. all you need is me, i’d burn everything to the ground for you in a heartbeat."

dazai.

as a kid, you quickly learned not to fight back. 

others were allowed to be angry and lash out, but when you did the same, it was wrong wrong wrong.

when you were young, you learned that love was conditional.

there was no understanding when it came to your emotions. no matter the kind of day that you had you were still expected to always be kind and patient, and never yell back.

to be loved–or rather, to simply survive in this world, you had to be the smaller person; never expect someone to love you for who you are, but because they like that you’re agreeable, quiet, and passive. never expect anyone to care about how you feel, no matter how close of a friend they are.

and surely, you couldn’t expect any kind of empathy from a coworker.

but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, and you could feel the way your chest contracted, suffocating with you, every time you were the brunt of kunikida’s critiques. there was no middle between letting the man belittle you to a husk of your former self or the scariest option of all: say something and risk your dynamic with him worsening even more.

setting boundaries and speaking your mind had never been things that came easy to you, as admitting that something was wrong in your relationship with someone always seemed to leave a gaping hole in the relationship that would always be prevalent, at least to you. telling someone who seemed to be unaware of how unkind their words were “you’re hurting me” seemed to always make things awkward between you and the other party. they realized they could no longer throw you around and every time they left, you couldn't help but think you should've dealt with it and kept your mouth shut. 

so you smile and nod along to whatever kunikida’s ordering you to do next, fake laughing when he says something about how important the job is and to make sure you don’t fail, as if such an option was even possible. you had never messed up anything he asked you to do, and with how long he went on about the importance of the job, you never planned to. but his ending words always reminded you of how little your efforts seemed to matter to him. he would never trust you or see you as anything better than just a little office worker to dump work on.

your face drops as soon as the man turns his back to you, and you let out a quiet sigh before returning to the laptop in front of you before hands upon your shoulders scare you.

“caught you!” a voice pops up from behind you, making you exclaim, jumping in your seat, whipping your head around to see a familiar brown-haired man. he was always causing problems for kunikida and getting scolded, and yet he seemed to be able to take everything as a light-hearted joke. he came into work every day with a smile on his face and new ways to irritate kunikida, while you couldn’t see yourself ever returning to this office if that man yelled at you the way he yelled at the boy in front of you even once.

“dazai! you scared me,” your eyes follow him as he slides into the chair next to you, slightly rolling away from you with how he’d launched himself into the seat. “what did you…catch?” you ask, watching as he scoots closer back to you again, resting his cheek on a bandaged arm atop of the oak desk you both sit at.

“now, now. let's not try and act all innocent. why are you letting him talk to you like that if it hurts you?” he asks with a smile, while your face only pales, your heart completely freezing up the moment you hear the question you fear most. you have to tear your eyes away before he sees through you anymore, and you look down into your lap, where you’re picking at your fingers. if dazai noticed it, surely others did. had kunikida been able to read your face? had you offended him because you refused to communicate your true feelings with him? maybe you seemed like a stuck-up individual in his eyes if he could tell that you were faking with him, and you weren’t sure if him believing that lie or finding out the truth would be worse.

“well i…” you trail off when his fingers come into your line of sight, intertwining them with yours, stopping you from the bad habit.

“have i ever gotten upset with you for very understandably getting annoyed at my endless antics? have we ever disagreed on something we absolutely refused to resolve? no to both. but are humans creatures of imperfection by nature? have we all made mistakes? yes, and that’s why they’re able to forgive each other unless they’re insufferably stuck up. but don’t let your head turn kunikida into a monster he’s not. he’ll understand if you ask him to speak to you less directly, or with more belief in you. he’s giving you these jobs because he trusts you, you know. he just rambles on about the importance of them because that’s who he is. you know that, and you know him. you know he’ll work to treat others with the respect they deserve, you just have to tell him so first. but he’s not going to get mad at you,” your eyes flick up from where he’s running a thumb along your knuckles up to him, only to find him already looking at you with those warm hazel brown eyes of his. he’s right, and it feels nice to be seen and not bashed for your true feelings. instead, you're being understood. under his gaze, you no longer feel weak for how sensitive or emotional you may feel. he’s looking at you like you’re worth something, worth enough that you can fight for yourself, worth enough to deserve to be comfortable in your relationships, rather than used by those near you.

“thank you,” you mumble, and he’s pulled you close by the wheels of your own chair, your knees knocking as one of his hands reach up to caress the back of your neck, soothing you further as you continue to look at him.

his lips are still curved into a smile, not the trickster one he wears as he comes up with his next plot to harass kunikida, but a soft, genuine one, like he loves and cares about you, without you even asking anything of him. maybe this is what love is; being looked at and known, without even having to open your mouth.

“of course, angel,” he murmurs, fingers brushing against the back of your scalp, “bring it up while atsuhi or i are around if you want, we’ll help you explain how you feel. you’re not alone, you never were and you never have to be."

ranpo.

ranpo’s heightened abilities to observe, infer, and understand go far past anything related to his detective work. 

the first time he found you feeling down and wanted to comfort you, he defaulted to what he knows helps him feel better (i.e. sweet treats, dim lights, warm, quiet environments). the entire time, while his hand is on your back, rubbing it soothingly as you lean against him, soft cries muffled by the blanket he’s placed over you, his brain is running the entire time with what he can do best to support you; did you like what he brung you? do you prefer to isolate yourself or do you like the company when you’re feeling down? blankets or no blankets? do you want him to talk to you and try to provide a distraction or is just being there for you what you need? touch, or no touch?

ranpo is so attentive to your needs. whatever you want and is best for you, he will get you and do for you. he gives all thanks to fukuzawa, for helping him realize not everyone sees the world the way he does, all those years ago. since then, he’s learned to be more responsive, emotionally thoughtful, and soft-hearted in his responses if that’s that what you need. but if you want to hear logic and how he’s rationalizing out your situation, he can do that, too. again, he is completely willing to bend and shape himself to your needs. the only thing he will always push for is to be in a room with you when you’re feeling down, even if you don’t want company </3

he knows when you really need to be alone, but he doesn’t like to let you be on your own for too long. he’ll always be in the next room over if you need anything, quietly pacing the room, only worried and thinking of you and if he can do anything more for you. if you’re curled up in bed all night, he’ll eventually knock on the door to ask if he can sleep with you and keep you company. he wholeheartedly believes letting other people help you and be there for you helps, especially to prevent you from spiraling down any pits of despair or insecurity. he wants you to know how much he cares about you and your wellbeing, he wants to be there to hold you close, press gentle kisses to your head, and murmur promises that he’ll never ever leave you alone.

but if you say no to company, he is happy to sleep on the couch and will be up the moment you call his name if you need something or decide you do want company. he is there completely for you always and whenever, and all of it comes from a place of love. he’ll never push you to do anything or tell him anything you don’t want to, and he’ll try not to infer anything even if he knows he could use context clues to find out exactly what’s upsetting you. he knows you’ll tell him when you’re ready if you want to, and it’s never his job to be in your business. his only responsibility is to love you and make sure you know it <3

oda.

you’ve never been great at facing your own problems, and you’re even worse at facing others in your time of struggle. it feels impossible to rely upon anyone, no matter how close they are to you.

sakunosuke oda is a selfless man, always taking care of others, putting their wellbeing above his own. he took in five orphans despite knowing the increased risk to his own safety that would come with taking care of them, and he still chose to do it despite not having a place of his own to take care of them at. he gives half of his wage as one of the lowest-ranking members of the port mafia to the kids every time he receives his salary and he’s never once deviated from the habit.

you know he’d drop everything for you if you told him what was wrong, but you couldn’t do that to him. it didn’t feel that serious. and worst of all, telling him how you were feeling would only cause him to cut his job short and then he’d be standing there with you while you continued to wallow in misery; of course his presence would help you feel better, but it wouldn’t immediately solve everything.

it wasn’t worth it. was your justification as you slipped out of your shared apartment. it wasn’t worth telling someone else how you were feeling, because they couldn’t solve it. you couldn’t solve it. you couldn’t even figure out for yourself what was wrong. you had to make your existence worth it instead, then. the best way you found, to distract yourself from your feelings and make sure they remained pushed down, was by helping others. no one whose in need of help often asks how others are truly doing, and you like that about them.

you don’t tell him where you’re going. you have nothing to hide; you just don’t want to worry him. you’ll tell him if he asks, but for now, you’re on your own.

but what kind of partner would he be if he didn’t know you? if he hadn’t memorized and kissed every mole, freckle, and blemish adorning your body? he knew you better than you realized, although you could never fully accept the fact that he paid attention to you, remembered your likes and dislikes, and knew your habits and routines like the back of his hand, all just because he loves you.

and when he comes home from work to an empty house, searching for any traces of you, he’s not worried. he has an idea of where you are and he knows that all he needs to do is text you, if he's curious. and he doesn’t immediately push his assumptions onto you about why you might be out and where; he knows you can take care of yourself and that you’ll communicate your needs to him. so when he texts you, it's not that he's demanding that you come home or ot tell him your whereabouts. rather, his texts are just to let you know he cares and is waiting for you at home.

sakunosuke ♡ : i’m home, just wanted to let you know

sakunosuke ♡ : text me if you need anything. and be safe

if he sees that you haven’t at least read his message within an hour or if he just can't wait to see you when you get home, whenever that may be, he already knows where to find you nine times out of 10. he’ll text the owner of his favorite curry shop, asking him if he’s seen you while already on his way down to the restaurant.

it's usually where he can find you there when you’re feeling down; braiding sakura’s hair, folding their laundry, coloring with one of the boys, helping out downstairs in the kitchen, or wherever else you can find a place to keep yourself busy. he knows that you’re always like this when you’re upset, and if you won’t take the day off to take care of yourself, then he will do it for you happily and well. he won’t even try to pull you away from what you’re doing–he’ll simply sit down with you, grabbing his own colored pencil while making small talk with the kids, giving you a small smile when you realize he's come into the room. or suddenly he’s next to you, helping you carry and hang up laundry, or drying off the dishes you’re washing.

and then before you know it, you’re walking home with him, hand in hand, a plastic bag rustling in his free one. you’ve both stopped to get food on the way home, and once you make it there, he’s immediately sitting you down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “let me do everything, love.” he’ll help you out of your clothes into something more comfortable, holding your hair back while you wash your face and clean up, he’ll pull your chair out for you as you sit back down, and run a hand through your hair, keeping any stray strands out of your face as you eat. 

outside of the house, you can bury your feelings as much as you want to and work to please others, but at home with him, you’re the focus. you’re the one who’s honored and worshipped in the house. sakunosuke’s not letting you lift a finger if he can help it, and you can’t get away with continuing to ignore your feelings when his only desire is to help you.

and you’ll tell him what’s bothering you when you’re ready. he knows that after how long you both have been together. and so in the meantime, he’ll wait patiently, showering you with all the love in the world. ♡

[adieutristana]

heyy!! can i ask for a Arcane characters x Enforcer!Reader?? I really like your writing!! (Sorry, english is not my first language, so I don't know if the sentence is correct...)

-🦇

of course! thank you for the request <3

i didn’t put jinx or sevika in this one because i honestly can’t see them being with an enforcer, sorry :( also am i at the stage where i have emoji anons?? i love it

characters included; vi, mel, caitlyn, maddie

summary; headcanons of arcane women dating an enforcer.

tags/warnings; fluff, mentions of war and combat, mentions of drinking

vi;

✧.* after being released from stillwater, vi was incredibly reluctant to trust enforcers. of course she was, after what they had put her and her family through.

✧.* vi had been exploring piltover a bit on her own, though it went against her better instincts. the unknown had always fascinated her, what could she say? the diverse artistry that was unique to piltover, the fresh air, the music, it was an entirely new world. although it could never come close to her home of zaun, it was still fascinating.

✧.* during one of her first visits, she'd come across you in a crowded shop. a girl, a pretty girl, minding her own business and trying to get her groceries. though vi tried to resist, she couldn't help the need to approach you and talk to you- even if about something simple.

✧.* surprisingly, you took it well and were flattered. she'd asked for your name, asked if you were from around here, all of the questions that weren't too personal yet still intimate enough that she got a general idea of who she was talking to.

✧.* and despite being in piltover, despite being in an expensive grocery shop that she knew she wouldn't get anything from (zaun's cuisine is much better, thank you), she couldn't help wanting to see you again.

✧.* "i- uh, i'd love to meet with you sometime, if you're interested," vi'd said, her hand clasped behind her back and blue eyes flitted to the side. it was a bit adorable, you'd thought- this brawny, tough girl, so nervous because of you. "i'd love that. just let me know a time and place, okay?"

✧.* you'd begun meeting up about twice a week, that was about as often as you could manage with your work. you'd hit it off instantly, laughing over drinks and chatting about your lives maybe a bit too early. however, vi had never asked what you did for work, so you never thought it relevant to bring up. if you told her you couldn't meet a specific day because of work, she left it. she always wanted to keep a respectful distance; you were still getting to know each other, after all.

✧.* however, vi did eventually find out on a date, walking around the city where she'd seen the shiny gold of your badge peeking out of your badge.

✧.* "hey, uh... what's that?" she'd asked, careful and nervous. she didn't want to make any assumptions, but this was definitely concerning to her, it was the last thing she'd expected from the kind girl she'd been seeing for the past month and a half.

✧.* "oh, this? my badge, for work," you'd hummed, pulling it out of your bag to hold up. "i'm an enforcer."

✧.* "hold on- you, you never told me," she'd responded, a slightly exasperated edge to her voice. "it never came up," you'd sighed, placing the badge back in your bag. "what, is it... a problem?"

✧.* vi had hastily explained to you her past, her family's complicated history with enforcers and piltover as a whole. the destruction they'd brought, and loss they'd caused. but what surprised her is that you listened, you told her that you understood, and that you'd come from a similar background, despite living in piltover. you'd wanted to join the enforcers to hopefully change the system from within.

✧.* and vi took this as a good sign- that, and the fact that you'd never given her a reason to not trust her prior to this. so within a few more weeks, the two of you began dating.

✧.* to your surprise, vi warmed up to your occupation rather quickly! she was still loyal to her home, she always would be. yet she kisses your cheek with her strong arms wrapped around you from behind, helping you get ready in the morning. she brings you coffee when she knows you have breaks, and she always, always asks you, "how was work?"

✧.* i think vi would always be at least a little bit on the fence about your job. she'd never completely accept it, but she accepts and loves you, as long as you're willing to give her the grace she needs.

✧.* and if anything, being with vi gives you even more incentive to be better and advocate for change. you want better for her, for her friends and (only) family, you desperately want the gap between your worlds to be closed. every time you see her eyes, or hear her laugh, or see the lanes where she grew up, that feeling intensifies.

mel;

✧.* the two of you had met while mel was off duty, simply strolling around markets. it was one of her few days off that month, so the woman had wanted to make the most of it. take herself out for a nice meal, maybe support some local vendors while she was at it. a self-care day, if you will.

✧.* she'd spotted you checking out a booth with various beaded jewelry displays, still in uniform. you must've been on a lunch break, she supposed, but even from the back, mel found you intriguing. she approached the same booth, looking over the various pieces offered. this crafter was talented, no doubt, but she was more interested in speaking to you. although mel has never been one to act too quickly, something about you was different.

✧.* and when she approached you, you might have just jumped out of your skin. "oh, what's that look for?" she'd chuckled, a light smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "i- you're mel, mel medarda." "i am," she confirmed with a hum. "but i'd like to talk about you, if that's alright."

✧.* you'd gone on several dates with mel. local parks, visits to both your home and hers (which was just as lavish and beautiful as you were expecting), long candlelit dinners, and simple walks around the city during warm weather. every moment spent with the woman, you felt the anxiety melting off of you in waves. she was a councilwoman, a medarda, yet so kind, understanding, and compassionate.

✧.* you'd both talked about your work extensively as well, with mel throwing in comments like, "those people have such strange ideas sometimes," or, "i'd like to think i'm making a difference, but things feel so stagnant sometimes." to which you'd respond, "i know what you mean," or, "i'm in the same situation. i mean- not the same, but you get it."

✧.* mel had even begun to ask for some of your input. this was letting herself become a bit more vulnerable, which is what told you that she was starting to trust you- yet she knew that the enforcers had thoughts about the council, and wanted to hear your opinions. what were they doing right? is there anything, from an outside perspective, that you think she could be doing better? if there's anything mel is, it's considerate. she genuinely does care for the people of piltover.

✧.* before long, the two of you became an official couple. you'd decided to keep it private, since mel didn't like to let her personal life and work intertwine, and she didn't want to draw unwanted attention to you. it was an arrangement that worked out for the both of you- you could live your lives peacefully in public as companions, but live as lovers behind closed doors.

✧.* she knows that both of your occupations are essential- one can't exist without the other, so work does play a significant part of your relationship, even if you try to avoid it. eventually, though, the two of you come to embrace it.

✧.* she meets up with you often after work, taking you into her gentle arms and pressing her glossed lips to your temple. "i missed you," she'll say, whispering into your hair. "hopefully your work day was better than mine, hm?"

✧.* you'll often be in mel's home, her head rested on your shoulder after helping you out of your uniform and helping each other clean up. simply enjoying the quiet night air and each other's company, as well as the way her fingers slot perfectly between your own. "long day?" she'd whisper. "yeah, you could say that," you'd respond, giving a gentle squeeze to her hand. "but you always make it better."

caitlyn;

✧.* you'd met at work. you were brought on as a junior officer, training with a group of other young adults. you knew of caitlyn; you knew that she was a kiramman, that she was destined for greatness under her family's influence. that she was a determined and reliable enforcer, who many of your colleagues held in high regard.

✧.* yet it wasn't until you saw her in person, took her in and saw her shoot, that you'd understand just why the woman was so influential. she was intelligent, pragmatic, quick on her feet, with incredible reflexes. caitlyn is something that any enforcer would aspire to be, not only because of her status as a kiramman.

✧.* caitlyn was training you for a few days, and during that time, you'd become close rather quickly. being in close proximity like that, you were nervous at first- who wouldn't be? but caitlyn was professional, she was helpful, she was kind. your conversations had turned from enforcer procedures and shooting techniques to your families, your education, your hobbies, your hopes and dreams.

✧.* by the end of your training period, you and caitlyn considered each other close friends. yet more than that, you felt something more charged between the two of you. something more than a simple friendship between collegeagues.

✧.* "good work," she'd said, giving you a light smile and patting your shoulder. "you've impressed me- keep practicing, and you'll climb the ranks in no time." you'd given a smile in return, seeing the warmth in caitlyn's eyes. yet you couldn't help the need to do something- it was as if your feet moved on their own, stepping closer to the woman to press a light kiss on her cheek. "thank you," you'd whispered.

✧.* you expected some kind of negative reaction from caitlyn. her pulling back, yelling at you, maybe even cutting your friendship off. but she'd surprised you by leaning into the touch. she didn't reciprocate right away, but she embraced it, and wished you goodbye.

✧.* the two of you began dating shortly thereafter, but decided to keep your relationship relatively quiet at first. you couldn't have superiors knowing that colleagues were fraternizing, so it was your secret for a while. yet, caitlyn made it clear to you that she was okay going public whenever you were- "just let me know, okay? we'll take things at your pace, but i'm ready."

✧.* but the moment that revealed your relationship wasn't exactly... expected. you'd met in her quarters, sat on her desk while she stood before you and captured her lips with yours. it was quick, rushed, it carried emotions words couldn't quite capture yet. though when your superior opened the door without knocking, you swore you've never backed away from somebody so quickly.

✧.* though, to your surprise, there was little to no reaction. your supervisor was wide-eyed and paused, but quickly walked out, and you didn't hear anything of it afterwards.

✧.* "so... what do you say we tell the others?" you'd chuckled, still a bit flushed and breathless. caitlyn was much too embarrassed to respond at this point, but she nodded slowly.

✧.* the two of you have decided to not risk the quarters anymore (most of the time), but as soon as you're home, away from watchful eyes and the public, you're wrapped in each others' embrace again. caitlyn helping clean any wounds you may have sustained or vice versa, you kissing her temples- talking about everything and nothing after a long day.

✧.* "mm, you got pretty beat up out there," you'd murmur, wrapping thin gauze around one of caitlyn's ankles. a blow to her legs, and she was bleeding and bruised. thank the gods that was the worst of it, though. "i'm alright, darling. really," she'd smile, but you wouldn't have any of it. "shh, just let me take care of you this once. okay?"

maddie;

✧.* you and maddie were recruited around the same time, and brought to train together. in the time leading up to receiving 'junior officer' status, you'd both caught the other's eye. small talk led to goofing off in the quarters during break, which led to seeing each other after sessions, which led to feelings neither of you could exactly define.

✧.* maddie has always been rather forward, though, you'd found. never one to beat around the bush when it came to her feelings or desires, so you're not sure why you expected any different from the girl when it came to you.

✧.* she'd approached you after a day of long training. you were in a back room changing into casual clothing to walk home. maddie had swung the door open- quickly shutting it once she realized what she walked into, but rushed in as soon as you gave her the okay.

✧.* "hey, so sorry about that-" she'd begun, a nervous smile tugging at her lips. "don't worry about it, you didn't know.. what's up?"

✧.* it was then that maddie confessed that she'd started liking you pretty soon after your first meeting, that she'd always enjoyed your company and wanted to see you outside of work. to her surprise, you felt the exact same way, you just weren't so forthcoming about your own feelings.

✧.* "we can do something right now," you'd offered, swinging your bag over your shoulder and gesturing towards the door with your head. "walk with me."

✧.* maddie didn't have to be asked twice. she was following closely to the side of you, chipper as ever despite a long day of tactical training. you don't know how she does it, yet it's charming somehow.

✧.* once you reached the lot of your apartment, you'd turned to maddie and given her a soft smile, a silent 'thank you' for walking home with you. a show of your appreciation for her, and the budding affection between you. though maddie surprised you herself, pressing a light kiss to your cheek before walking off. "see you tomorrow!" she'd shouted over her shoulder.

✧.* shortly thereafter, you'd begun officially dating. maddie has never been secretive, so she never bothered hiding your relationship from your colleagues. she doesn't exactly flaunt it, yet if anyone asked, the girl will undoubtedly start gushing about her 'perfect, beautiful girlfriend.'

✧.* the two of you are frequently assigned to jobs and tasks together due to supervisors seeing how well you work together, even in a professional environment. of course those jobs will be done with a few stolen kisses and surprise embraced throughout, but you get it done regardless. you make a good team!

✧.* target practice together! maddie has always been a much better shot than you, but luckily, she's always glad to help. she'll stand behind you- one hand planted on your waist, the other on your rifle to help you aim better.

✧.* "ah... a little right, up a bit more- there!"

[nabi-unveiled]

Flipping the Characters in Futtara Doshaburi

This show is a vibe, and I'm vibing with it. I'm loving everything about these two lonely people desperately seeking intimacy. Watching episode four in the car while the rain poured around me only added to the vibe. That said, being in the car means I can't do my normal screenshot process so semi-relevant gifs it is.

We start with Hagiwara descending into the depths. I mentioned after episode 3 that he still had a more positive outlook on his circumstances. But he's now on his way into the hole where he won't be able to gloss over his unhappiness. Sei is already in the hole. He has been there for a while, he knows he's there, and he's somewhat resigned himself to it.

This change in Hagiwara's attitude is reflected in our aesthetics too. While Hagiwara's home had bright and warm elements last episode, the door to his house is cold and dark after their dinner. It's no longer welcoming. The restaurant is where the warm colors resided.

However, the truly interesting thing to me about this show is in how much this show has flipped the character expectations.

It's flipped the idea of "good guys" and "bad guys" - particularly in a drama that's definitely leading towards cheating. It's pretty standard fair in a cheating drama for the partners to be painted as not caring or evil. But as Hiragawa and Sei make clear in their exchange after the meal, nobody really is in the wrong (yet). It's really unfair to all of them. I actually think Sei's partner has the shortest end of this stick thus far, but that's a different discussion.

The partners of our leads are caring. They cook for our leads. They clean up for our leads. They are kind. But they offer companionship, not sex. This makes them "cruel". It's cruel to be kind.

Our leads actually have only shown minimal considerations towards their partner. Sei sprayed perfume and Hiragawa goes to his girlfriend's social events, but they aren't the ones doing the major acts of service. The have mainly shown care to each other, not their partners. And they mainly want sex (and intimacy, but...the dialogue keeps saying sex) from their partners. In most other shows, our leads would be the "bad guy". The boyfriend who is obsessed with sex and has you do all of the work. But this show is clearly demonstrating that while romance may be in the little things, the little things cannot fill the empty hole. And it's okay to want that hole to be filled.

The characterization of our main leads has flipped as well. The initial setup in episode one depicted Hagiwara as a bit of a bumbling oaf. He sent an email to the wrong address. He forgot to pick up his ID card. Sei, on the other hand, was initially portrayed as the fastidious one handling a business need and admonishing Hagiwara for wearing an id tag that wasn't company issued.

But we have learned that those were false impressions. Hagiwara is good at his job. It's made clear that he's good at planning the company outings. He's good at sales. He's the responsible one gathering and returning the umbrellas. He's the "picky" one at the grill making sure the grilling is done correctly. Sei is the one who stands in the rain and acts a mess. We now know he likely reacted to the id tag because of his complex feelings about who designed it, not because he actually cared about the rules. It's an interesting switch up.

There's also some interesting flips in that Hagiwara is a gregarious guy who talks a lot (he's in sales after all). He not only goes to social events on the regular, he plans them. But he never says what he actually wants. That characterization is more common, but it's still an interesting dichotomy. He is tumblr - only saying his deepest thoughts when writing to a stranger.

Meanwhile, Sei says exactly what he wants. The man is crude and rude, but he's also open with his thoughts. Many taciturn, loner characters are blunt, but few are as open as Sei. He just lays it all out on the table. I wish I could catch the linguistics of Japanese to know if he's actually using rude speech patterns as well, but that's outside of my skillset.

Being a prickly porcupine, Sei is used to people being put off by him. He said earlier that he wasn't nice. And he's not. But we still LIKE him and we still FEEL for him. And that's incredibly difficult to pull off in a show that clocks episodes in at under 25 minutes.

Sei fully expected that Higawara would back off and only give him courtesy greetings once he found out his identity. His friend from college did just that this episode. A few courtesy greetings followed by "Oh you don't have LINE. Guess we won't talk then. Bye." Fujisawa is the only one that seems to have put up with his personality. But Higawara, as bad as he is at expressing his own thoughts, feels comfortable with Sei. He keeps reaching out. He reached out through e-mail. He reached out with an umbrella. He reached out with an invite to treat Sei for helping. He reached out with a dinner invite. And unlike his partner, Sei responds.

For Sei, whose desire to talk keeps getting shut down by his partner, this invitation explicitly to talk is a lifeline. He always responds, taking any hint of Hiragawa reaching out to initiate an entire, probably way-too-honest conversation. After all, the hole is deep.

By the end of the episode, Hagiwara has fully descended into the underground thanks to our pregnant friend spilling the tea. In a bright environment with a lot of light no less (enlightenment I dare say?). He's reaches out to his partner in a final attempt and gets shut down. So he reaches out to Sei. And, Sei does what he always does. He responds. He welcomes someone joining him in the underground. At the end of the day, they both crave the intimacy this connection is providing. But as the storm glass predicts....rain is coming.

How did they fit that much meaty stuff in a 25 minute episode?!

[tranceinnumerabletabs]

When Johnny Comes Back Pt5

A/N: Posted this a little early since the winner was clear and I couldn't wait. Thank you all so much voting for this chapter! Or, just voting in general. Y'all the reason I post. Here's the final product! Enjoy being a drunk Batman

You do not need to read this chapter, it's got less relevance to the main plot and has less Johnny. So, it could be considered boring

Btw, @supermegabitchboyexceptimagirl , here's the chapter. with you tagged in as requested.

It's me, part one! the first child

I'm part two, I get the most hand me down

middle child pt three

part four, I'll miss being the baby

Disclaimer: Stalking

Previously:

Well, yeah you’re smart but you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t learn a thing or two from Johnny when you asked him about his job.

Now:

At first you didn’t think of it. Older men existing around you is no reason to be alarmed unless it’s a voting booth.

But then he appeared again, and again. And he always seemed to want to eavesdrop on your conversations. You caught him talking to Andrew. He called him Ross. Their conversation quieted when they saw that you were watching.

Then it escalated to ‘casual’ stalking, then he tried to find out where you lived. It…was awful. And you thought he wouldn’t follow you via car. You were wrong.

You were walking home from a girls night out slightly intoxicated. Your sober friend dropped you off nearby and you kiss her goodbye. She laughs and jokes that you’ve become a much more affectionate friend after meeting your roommate. If you were sober you’d frown at his mention but you just laugh. “Yeah…that ‘Sergeant’ is always so needy. Nothing like those films”

She tells you to get home safe and drives off. The road is swaying but it’ll do.

You walk towards your….mostly empty flat, getting ready to feel the severe lack of an annoying ass man child in the atmosphere and entitled angry cat screaming at you for daring to have a life outside serving him.

You focus on the semi-rhythmic pat pat pat pace of your barefooted walking, red stilettos in hand. Why did you wear those anyway?

Thud You imagine getting home, ignoring Simon’s food demands, and throwing up instead. Let him watch you vomit for a change. You lean on a wall for some stability. Maybe you should’ve drank less. Your mind felt fine but your body was swaying! You think.

thud

You want food, you think, still laying on the wall listening to your footsteps.

thud

And water

thud thud

….those aren’t your feet…..

Thud Thud

You turn too fast and stumble

Taptap thud thud thud

You straighten up to look at your pursuer and find no one. You keep walking

thud thud

Nothings there

thud thud thudthud

You turn faster and see a shadow duck away

shit.

you’re being followed

You look forward, your flat is close, but if you try to go there, he’ll know you live here. Yeah there’s a bunch of others but he can walk in, see where the elevator stops and know which floor, go to it and find your flat using your mailbox. And if he doesn’t come in, he could tell which flat was yours due to seeing light from the window when you turn them on. You could try keeping the lights off but he might follow you in the elevator and find out anyway. Sides you didn’t want to be drunk in the dark. You lean on the wall, looking behind you, trying hard to somehow immediately sober up and become Batman.

You think to what Johnny taught you as you watch out for the man

“Had tae take a different route Bonny! That’s why I took so long tae come back. Cannae have every bastard Ken where I am all the time. Never leave a straight trail. Try doin the same”

No, brain! That’s useless now! You’ll change your routes to places later.

“Try tae take videos of any lad ye dinnae like! I’ll take care o’ it”

Nope! Already did that with Milton and it’s too dark to do it with this guy.

“I Ken yer behind me Bonny. Cannae scare me.”

“How’d you know”

“I always check who’s behind me when looking though glass”

No. You already know who’s behind you! A bad man!

“-Was in a secure safe house. But the dust on one widow was slightly too clean for anyplace we’d be in. Looked closer, It was smudged dust. An’ the a chair was turned the wrong way. Knew right then and there it wasn’t secure.”

“How?”

“If it’s clear then someone must’ve been usin’ it. Went through the window instead and saved us all. Never give them a straight line tae follow”

“That doesn’t explain why you jumped though our window Johnny. There aren’t hostiles here other than Simon when he’s hungry”

“You dinnae Ken tha’! T-they could’ve noticed the lift’s number and found out which floor”

“yes I would have known. I noticed you. And you're telling me they'll notice elevator numbers but not a drunk scott crawling into an apartment?”

“……….aye…”

“Johnny.”

“…..I lost my keys.”

“Then Call me”

“An' my phone died”

“Knock?????”

“Nae. Dinnae wanted to wake ye up. Tis was faster this way”

“Johnny we’re on the fifth floor-“ !

!!!

💡

You got it! You got a plan! But it might be dumb…….

thud

After your suspicions have been confirmed by seeing a head poking out, you decide your plan wasn’t that dumb.

You ‘discretely’ order and Uber and keep stumbling to your flat, making sure to keep the volume of those footsteps low. Was your internet always this slow or did the inebriated anxiety slow time down?

Once you reach the building, you enter with one plan in mind:

survive

You walk towards the elevator and press it. You look towards the door and there’s a man in formal (as in like, office, not tuxedo) wear leaning by the door. If he follows you now you're fucked

DING!

You enter, press the highest floor and shut it. After it closes you hear the building door open harshly and footsteps walk toward the elevator as it goes up. You were right. You focus on not throwing up. Both from alcohol and fear. You focus on counting how long it takes to make it to this floor. Once your reach the top floor, you leave and you look back to look at what floor the elevator is in. It stays at the highest. Good. He’s not coming up.

Now to frame someone else.

You check how long it'll take for the uber to come before executing the next part of your plan....Yeah You're too drunk for math so you go off feeling.

Once you're satisfied with how close the uber was, You dash drunkenly to a random man’s apartment (the names are sometimes written on their mailbox) and bang the door loudly, ring the bell over and over, just overall being a ruckus. Sorry to whoever this ‘Dutch’ guy is but you’re gonna lead this guy right to him. He wakes up, the light turns on and you dash back to but not in the elevator to hide.

Dutch opens the door grumpy and looks around. He finds no one and starts to scold like an old man, saying things like “damn kids! Get off my property! This ain’t right” Till an older man tells him to “just leave it Dutch it’s not worth it.”

He closes the door and lights and you breathe a sigh of relief, almost forgetting your plan. You look at the elevator number, it’s on the ground floor.

He’s coming

You know that stairs are dangerous too, but what are the chances of two creeps? You have these stilettos and they don’t call it that for nothing (It's derived from an Italian word meaning knife). You go use the stairs and quietly go one floor down, holding on the rails for dear life.

You get to that floor and check the elevator number again, they just made it. You press the button to use it while they go bother the old guy with a western accent. You get back to the ground floor and wait your Uber filled with anxiety. You look to the building and see the lights on the highest floor open. You hope those old men are okay. (They’re fighting him for disturbance)

Now all that’s left it to communicate that you don’t live there. You need not to. From the window you see him looking at you. Looks like he forced his way in? You scowl and flip him off. He runs off from the window and your blood runs cold. You see the two men’s faces look at you. You can’t tell their expressions but they make “shoo shoo!” Hand gestures, making you panic more and stumble away.

Your Uber arrives and you hop in.

“Where to?”

“Drive!”

He’s shocked but does so. You look through the window to see that man walk out of the building. He’s out of view a moment later.

“Are you aright ma’am?

“Yes I’m fine.” You whimper, keeping an eye out for any signs of the stalker

.

.

.

“Got a place in mind?”

“Oh! Sorry. I’m drunk….a hotel…”

“Which?”

“…..”

“Hotel it is.”

.

.

“Sir?” You pipe up

“Yes ma’am?”

“You’re going slow. Speed up please?”

He opens the window

“Don’t throw up in my car” he speeds up fast.

“I’m fin-”

You throw up out the car But hey by the time you’re done you made it! And you’re slightly more sober.

“Thanks” you rasp out “I’ll tip you”

“Just don’t tip over on your way to bed. Goodnight”

You make it to the hotel and request a room telling them “if anyone asks. I was never here. Especially if it’s a guy”

One hasty payment later you’re safe in a hotel room. What a way to end the night. since when were you so clever while intoxicated? Good job Batman! and Thanks Johnny!

You look at your phone. 3% Great. Took too many videos apparently, either that or your phone recently just spontaneously decided to have shittier battery when you needed it most. Is it the company telling you to buy a new one? Ugh, thanks capitalism!

You lay in the bed and…just…sleep…sorry Simon but you wanna live. You can go a day without eating.

Shorter pt6

[spencewalterreid]

bowie's boykisser bonanza

(the master list of my works and recommendations)

☆ my other accounts

@castielhoney. destiel/spn, main account, catch-all for politics or shitposts sometimes

@elliesevileye. ellie williams/abby anderson/tlou, billie eilish sometimes

☆ my tags

all of my original posts will be tagged with either #bowie's yaps (for updates on fics or addressing one of yall) or #bowie's boykisser bonanza. From here on out (02.13.25) I am going to do my best to remember to tag my reblogged fics with #bowie's recs, but don't hold me to it. sincerest apologies if I forget!

☆ one shots

In The Morning I'll Make Cereal: the one where professor reid sees your self-harm scars and wants to know more. PG, platonic.

If I Love You Was A Promise: the one where you have a meltdown and reid stays over to keep you company. PG, platonic.

The Red Means I Love You: the one where we revisit s12 e22: red light, but less... murdery. the first three times you thought: I wonder just how red I could make you. TV-14, fade to black smut.

Don't Call Me Dude: the one where reid takes home a new toy and wants you to try it out with him. TV-MA, smutty smut smut. straight filth

V-day Bouquet: the one where Spencer is in your apartment complex and you buy him a bouquet and chocolate on a whim. fluff, fade to black smut if you squint

☆ series

Neurotech: the one where Agent Jenna Connell (oc) and Reid spearhead an investigation into a pharmaceutical company whose clients are turning up dead

Preacher's Daughter: The one where Ethel Cain grew up with Spencer Reid.

PLEASE read the warnings/disclaimers on the PD masterlist if you're going to read all the way through. It starts out more on the tame side but gets darker as the fic goes on.

☆ my art

boy? consider him KISSED. coloured pencil on mixed media paper.

wip 1 and 2 of the oil painting i'm currently working on

not boykissing but rather girlkissing. i am a man of multitudes. from my brain of a girl I am hopelessly in love with

poem empathizing with cat adams idk if this counts as art but... ?

☆personal notes

Me<3

My name is Beau or Bowie, either is perfectly fine, pick your favourite. I use he/him pronouns. Majoritively write for Spencer, but if a request came in for a different character, I might see about it.

Requests are always welcome!! I love seeing y'all's ideas and am more than happy to oblige, BUT!

There are certain characters I will not write for at all, and some there are limitations on. I will not. Will NOT. ever write a hotchxreader. There are lots and lots of others who write great fics about that, but hotch just puts me off and always has, so I'm not down for that. However, he might appear in plot-relevant fics sometimes.

There isn't really any*thing* I won't write for. Pretty open as far as smut goes, same for angst, and fluff is anything goes.

My DMs are always always open!!!

Hit me up anytime. I'd love to listen to you vent, or hear about something cool that happened, or anything of the like. If you aren't up for that, anons are open for the very same:) to be honest it's kinda my dream to have regular anons so PLEASE hit me up it'll make my year

☆ recs

literally all of the bandages universe: @nereidprinc3ss. i binged it so quick. just flirty reader making spencer nervous for like. a bajillion words.

Covetous Cravings: @burymagdalene. the one where coitus takes place on Spencer's pretty Persian rug

Bad Day: @g4rvez-r3id. the one where you come home from a really bad day and your boyfriend, Spencer is there to save the day… and hold you while you cry.

CLASSIFIED: @ovrgrwnivy. the one where a sleepy morning turns into spencer falling over himself to get to work on time, forgetting his badge behind him.

Red Is Your Color: @esote-rika. the one where you send reid a scandalous christmas-themed photo and he Does Something about it.

@minswriting. the one where you use a vibrator on reid

And they were roommates: @rainydayathogwarts. the one with 0-boundary roomates.

Don't Call Me: @reiderwriter. the one where spencer keeps your cheating ex on the phone while participating in coitus

apparent loss or modification of information: @luveline. the one where reid doesn't remember you but he still has a crush.

[arcanewhoosh]

Hii, I'm new to Tumblr so I don't know if this is where you place requests, hopefully it's right! I have a request if you could write a Jinx x gn!reader who would never kill someone or harm, strictly against it hut tolerates Jinx's antics, until one night reader got extremely jelaous when a guy was flirting with Jinx (Jinx just nonchalantly kept avoiding the guy and giving him hints but he is not giving up) and the reader gets too jelaous to the point they harm the guy or something.. Idk! 😓

We're Good

I didn't know what direction you wanted this to go, but I got toxic vibes from this so I just decided to go full send in that direction. Advanced apologies.

This work will have an extended explicit scene that will be posted on AO3 (I wasn't 100% sure about your age my b, but if you confirm I'll post it here too.)

Masterlist here

1.8k words

Proofread? Y/N (Had a bit too much wine while writing this but I'll edit before posting on AO3)

Relevant Tags: Gender Neutral reader, toxic relationship, implied stalking, Hailey Bieber level commitment, violence, possessive reader, alcohol, aged up characters

You're a good person. You really do think you are. You really are. At least, that's what you tell yourself.

You're a good person.

Well…at least you think you are. And really, isn't that all that matters?

You've managed to keep your nose clean for most your life; no fights, no killing, no stealing. Odd jobs around The Lanes kept you afloat. Not like you had any other choice, you couldn't stomach gore, and every time you'd get an adrenaline rush from so much as a wound, you'd end up passing out.

You're level-headed, fairly well-read, and comfortable in your own skin.

So why the hell is your blood boiling over some weirdo trying to flirt with your girlfriend?

Jinx is beautiful, full stop. Anyone who says otherwise is an idiot. She's a genius in every sense of the word, a physical specimen—respectfully of course, she's literally super athletic—and quick with her tongue. If this wasn't Zaun, people would be tripping over themselves trying to win her over. But her reputation always made people rethink any approach they'd make towards her. Her father's reputation, made people steer clear entirely.

Anyone that had enough audacity to actually approach her, she'd—figuratively—shoot down immediately. At least when you two got together, you're not sure if she actually shot them prior to you asking her not to.

She knows what she wants, and she's not the type to sit and wait for the other person to make the first move. You should know, she cornered you five minutes after you two had first met, and she hasn't let go of you since.

The thought of being romantically linked with Jinx hadn't even crossed your mind when you two first met. You weren't blind, of course, but you also weren't stupid. All of the stories you had heard about her, all the people she's blown up for Silco, or just for her own amusement, none of it sat right with you. So, you avoided her like The Grey.

Well… You tried.

For some unknown reason, the Chem Barons suddenly took an interest in your services. Suddenly, you had a contract for the next few months, just for them, and all coincidentally putting Jinx up as your contact. Every job you had, she came with you. Super quick dead drop for Marcus' weekly bribes? You needed her to protect the money. Week long stake out at the shipping yard? Jinx had to go to keep you on your toes—whatever that meant. She'd show up to your house first thing in the morning, and followed you to your doorstep by night.

You tried dropping out of the job, but you were hit with threats ranging from you being blacklisted from all of your contacts, to being killed on the spot. So you bit your tongue and did your job, but made sure not to accept another contract from the barons.

Then one day, negotiations with a dealer went south, and they refused to give their payment for the last stash of shimmer you and Jinx had delivered. One second you were arguing with him, the next his blood and brain matter were on your face. You're not one hundred percent sure what exactly happened after, but you did pass out.

Then, you quit. You even told Jinx to kill you and get it over with. When she didn't, you stormed off, and ditched the rest of your jobs for the barons. It was only a week left, they'd get you, one way or another.

To say you were surprised when you weren't killed or blacklisted the following week was an understatement. But what was even more surprising? Jinx had stopped following you around.

You chalked it up to simple curiosity, when you decided to seek her out. You didn't dare admit to yourself that you had missed her constant presence, especially since she had been stuck to you like glue for months. You wanted to ask why no one had sent a hitman to off you, nothing else. Once you found out why, you'd disappear from her life forever, gleefully so.

She had covered for you, for a week, doing all the assigned jobs you had, alone. None of the barons knew better. She even apologized for shooting that dealer in front of you and getting blood spray all over your face.

You should've walked away then, but you didn't. In fact, you started willingly hanging around Jinx. Accompanying  her in her misadventures, or helping her with her inventions; and she helped you with whatever job you were doing.

You would never admit it to anyone, but it felt good to have someone nearly bend over backwards for you. Hell, she even toned down the killing people part, at least when you were around.

Less than six months after, you were hers, and she was yours.

She wanted you, and only you.

But there was something so disgustingly triggering about someone trying to make a move on her—looking at her, even. It was bringing out progressively uglier thoughts out of you. Thoughts you would never think about anyone else.

Jinx noticed this, of course. But she never tried to stop the train of thought. Hell, a part of you thinks—knows— that she enjoys seeing you worked up over her.

The music in The Last Drop is loud; uncomfortably so for someone sober. The bass blaring from the speakers thrums in your chest, and the constant stutter of the lights is making it hard to keep track of where Jinx is. Which is bad, because this rando doesn’t want to let up and keeps following her around. Even the vantage point the second floor isn’t helping.

To be fair, Jinx is ignoring the prick. And you trust Jinx. But the gnawing feeling in your insides every time you imagine some guy's hands on her is only building up your anger.

No one puts their grimy hands on your girl.

You decide that the best course of action is to just go down to the dance floor and take care of the problem yourself. What was that saying? If you want things done, do it yourself?

Pushing yourself off of the railing, you make your way through the all the bodies moving in time with the music. You grimace, the thought of having alcohol and cheap perfume clinging onto you by the time you get downstairs isn't all that appealing, but you had a girl to find. Which is starting to prove difficult, seeing as the strobe lights are throwing off people's hair colors. The only reprieve that you have is the fact that people still kept out of Jinx's way even at the busy club. If there was a spot at the club where the crowd was thinning out, she was probably there.

You're given space to breathe once you reach the bar. A lot of the club goers were on the dance floor. Credits to the DJ, you think to yourself, for getting people away from where you were, and for also, actually, being good at what they were doing. You give a cursory glance at the seats, your girlfriend is unfortunately not there, but you do catch sight of a familiar face.

"Sevika!" You shout over the din of the music. The older woman, busy tending to her glass of whiskey, barely spares you a glance as she looks up, huffing before gulping down her drink and pushing it towards the bartender. Her dismissive attitude doesn't deter you, however, as you make your way towards her.

"Have you seen Jinx?"

"Didn't know I had to babysit your girl." She says before taking her refilled drink and taking a swig from it.

"I don't have time to do this little dance, Sevika." Her eyebrow quirks at your terse response, a hint of mischief in her eyes. It was a look you knew well—she always had it right before she'd try to piss you off.

A shrug instead, turning back to her drink. "Last I saw, some dumbass was trying to talk her up."

Your jaw tightens at the thought, and this doesn't escape the other woman's notice as she smirks. "I always knew you weren't the sharing type." She says smugly, taking another swig.

You lean in closer, well into her personal space. "Where is she?"

She scoffs, a mechanical finger poking you in the shoulder slowly pushing you back. "Don't start shit you can't finish, kid." She nods towards the far end of the club. "Being followed by the dumbass that way."

You throw a scowl her way before walking the direction she pointed out, your previous irritation with her dissipating as soon as you catch sight of Jinx's hair.

For a moment, a wave of relief washes over you. But it leaves just as fast when you see the same man that was talking to her, leaning over her much too closely for your comfort.

Jinx's eyes flick towards you, a knowing, anticipating, look in them. Like she knew you'd come rushing down there for her.

You don't notice your own steps becoming hurried.

His hand brushes her arm. You see red.

The poor sod doesn't even have time to react before you clock him in the jaw, and he falls backwards. Jinx simply takes a step back. Unsurprised, when you grab her arm and pull her away. She doesn't even try to free herself from your grip.

There isn't a lot of privacy allowed in The Last Drop. In fact, there's only three places there where you could get a semblance of privacy. The supply room, but you didn't want to risk anyone walking in on you and Jinx. The second one was Silco's office, an even worse choice, for obvious reasons. Which left only one place for you to take Jinx to: the Chem Barons' meeting room.

The heavy doors of the meeting room slams as you shut them behind the both of you. Jinx, who had been quiet the entire way there, rips her arm away from you.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" Despite the furious look on her face, the anger doesn't reach her eyes. It never does. Not when she enjoys seeing you get so protective of her. Not when she spent months trying to win you over.

You don't bother with an answer, dragging her mouth to yours. Your lips mashing together, teeth bumping into each other. She grips the front of your shirt, holding you in place, only letting you pull away when she needs to breathe.

"Crazy." She whispers against your lips, eyes wide, her grin taunting.

"Takes one to know one." You answer back, breathless.

Her laugh is mirthful, genuine. Like she hit the lottery. Maybe she did, seeing how you act around her—how she acts around you.

You find that you don't mind the hidden accusation in her laugh. Because in your mind, you're a good person.

And really, isn’t that all that matters?

[stormyrainyday]

How to Read MFB Like a Professor: Introduction

One of the assigned readings in the AP literature class in my high school was Thomas C. Foster's How to Read Literature Like a Professor; I'd read a chapter of it for 10th grade English, and for a novice analyst it opened my eyes to a new way to read the book we were reading at the time (Fahrenheit 451 if you're curious). Unfortunately though, due to scheduling reasons, I didn't take the class in which HTRLLAP was read.

Lately, though, I've been dipping my toes back into media analysis for fun in my free time, and I ordered the book in hopes of getting similar insight as I did in that earlier English course. The thing about HTRLLAP is that it doesn't tell you necessarily how to interpret a scene; rather, it provides knowledge of common symbolism and where it is usually used, and encourages you to further analyze with that knowledge in your arsenal. For example, the introduction of the book suggests that, in literature, any trade or deal could be analyzed with the perspective of a "deal with the devil". Of course, not every book will have a devil, but that's not the point. The point is to pay closer attention to the items up for barter, and what those items could represent to each character. In the book's given example from A Raisin in the Sun, the item for sale is the family home, a symbol of the main character's pride, history, and soul. That is not what every trade deal in a story would represent; however, it teaches you that when something is being traded, to look closer at what the components mean to each character and how they fit into the overarching themes of the story.

All that being said, reading a book on how to read analysis may teach me the theory, but if I want to hone my own skills, I need to put them into practice. Which brings me to this post-series, How to Read Metal Fight Beyblade Like a Professor. I've decided that for each chapter of HTRLLAP, I'll do a short analysis of the relevant symbolism in MFB. Hopefully by the end of it, I'll be a little better at analyzing media.

(Most of the posts will be related to Metal Fusion. It's my favorite season, I'm the most familiar with it, and the characters that I like the most appear in this season. I also find the plot to be the most grounded of all the series. It is, at the end of the day, about Gingka growing strong enough to get L Drago back-- most of the arcs serve that narrative. While I like Masters, I feel the focus of the season shifts quite dramatically when the Hades plotline is introduces, and I don't remember enough of Fury to speak much on it.)

Each post will be titled similarly to this one, and will reference the chapters of HTRLLAP. Post 1 will be chapter one, and titled How to Read MFB Like a Professor: Chapter 1, with the subtitle Every Trip is a Quest (Except When It's Not) to coincide with the chapter subheading. I'll be tagging the posts HTRMFBLAP and linking chapters at the end of each post. Expect varying lengths for the posts, as well as inconsistent times between them. I am not a literature students and I am really just doing this for love of the game, but that means that a lot of the time life will get in the way.

Quite frankly if anyone reads any of the analysis, I'll be elated. I love MFB and I love analysis and I've been filled with indescribable excitement at the thought of doing this.