#I've sent it in an ask too but I dunno if it's made the way to the inbox bc tumblr is weird sometimes

[eolewyn1010]

@comicaurora

[semperamans]

clo i need to know your thoughts on cal, johnny and benny all falling for the same, sweet local girl! <3 love ya xoxo

suse how could you do this to me :( currently trying not to scream cry and throw up in the coffee shop :( this somehow turned into jealous!danny? dunno how! kinda long, so ya gotta read more xo

benny says your name like it's this sacred thing and danny knows he's in for a treat. the sun grows weary as she dips beneath the tree line, but danny is unyielding; bony forearms braced on the tops of his thighs, microphone edging just a bit closer to his pondering interviewee. benny blows a stream of smoke from the corner of his mouth, watching as it mingles with the cotton candy clouds and it's hard, danny thinks, to be around benny because everything he does is so damn picturesque. he's filled more than three rolls of film with just benny and yeah, he's gotta be mindful because film isn't cheap and he's broke but there's something about the way benny looks; leather cut laying just so over his shirtless form, white levis baggy from age, speckled with either dirt or blood, he doesn't know, and he's just so cool that it's impossible to resist. danny snaps a quick picture, scolds himself as the ticker tells him he's got four shots left, then turns his chin to watch as benny plucks the near-extinguished cigarette from between his teeth, flicking it into the grass. "what'dya wanna know about her?" "well," danny shifts in the creaky lawnchair, "y'know, i've talked to the guys and they, uh, they say she's the best thing that's happened to the club. girls are sayin' it too, n'not just cus she made you nasty bastards start washing your hands." benny is chuckling, pillowy lips damp from the swipe of his tongue. "so what is it about her?" danny asks then waits and waits and waits as benny sits, per usual, in silence. and, okay, maybe this isn't going as well as danny hoped and now he's scrambling, throwing haphazard sentences around his brain, but then benny is speaking and holy shit he's speaking. danny has never heard him say more than fifteen words but now he's a leaky faucet "she's good - everythin' about her - doesn't have a mean bone in her body, y'know? gave all've us a chance, gave me a chance." benny shakes his head as though he still can't believe it then stops, turning his head at the faint sound of the screendoor closing and there you are in a pair of cutoff overalls, hair pulled back with a crocheted bandana and danny can see it, the whole angelic thing. you pay neither of them any mind, tending instead to the flowers 'round the porch. your little yellow watering can is cute and danny can see the fondness constricting the base of benny's throat. "think m'biased." benny says, turning back to face danny. "but 've said it once and i'll say it till they throw me in the ground: she's heaven sent. an' i hope imma good enough man to see her again when i get where i'm goin'." danny leaves with a rekindled belief in love and hopes that maybe one day he’ll be lucky enough to be loved the way benny is.

it's been three weeks since benny's interview and danny can't help but notice things. he carries this leather notebook around - jotting down names and places and tape numbers - but the page he keeps coming back to is one he scribbled across a few days ago. the thing about benny's girl is that she isn't just benny's girl. he's circled it three times for good measure because benny's girl doesn't just belong to benny - sure, maybe in the ways it matters - but every single soul adores her; lights up when she walks in and it sure is a sight to see fifty or so bikers grinning and stumbling over their own feet for this girl who looks like she couldn't harm a fuckin' fly. if she had a male equivalent danny reckons it would be cal. cal with a personality as warm as fire, who talks to everyone, and cracks jokes, and is unabashedly himself. but cal has a temper and it shows during a run to akron. danny is interviewing zipco when he hears the commotion then suddenly everyone is stampeding toward two swinging figures and he knows this is where he steps back. it's a full-on brawl now and zipco sure as shit wasn't going to stay and yap while there was chaos amuck, so danny plops down, lights a cigarette and waits. "s'guy called her a bitch," cal says and danny almost jumps out of his fuckin' skin. where did the sun go? he scrambles to a sitting position, wiping drool from the corner of his mouth and smacking the record button on his cassette recorder. "what?" "some fuckin' prick called her a bitch." cal's got a handful of ice cubes pressed to his busted jaw and because the man knows no personal space a bloody mix has dripped onto danny's pant leg. "her?" danny's not following but the beat up boy tips his head and danny should've known. it's you. of course it's you. "not gonna let nobody talk to her like that. i don't take too kindly for no one talkin' ill to a lady, but 'specially her. s'the most fucked up shit you can do." that's when danny realizes that cal has it too. it's the same look benny had when you came out of the house - that dumb, lovesick gaze - but cal's is laced with longing and danny actually feels bad for him. "she sure is something." he says, testing the waters. he's out of cigarettes so his nimble fingers pluck a handful of grass from beside his boot. "sure is." cal takes a seat, reaching behind danny to grab the jug of strong-smelling alcohol. "never met anyone like 'er. been everywhere; hell to fuckin' Houston, never met a girl like her before." he takes a deep swig, grimaces, then swallows. "benny sure is lucky, ain't he?" danny says, peering under his lashes at the golden-haired boy and he laughs. "we're all lucky. she's the sweetest of the sunflowers, man. she's like the fuckin' sun. least she is to me - to us." poor bastard, danny thinks. poor infatuated bastard.

"where ya gonna be sittin', baby?" "with johnny." "good girl, c'mere gimmie a kiss." danny's at the bar nursing a beer and a hangover and probably a concussion and you know what? this kinda talk doesn't phase him anymore. he's used to it by now; sure he doesn't know the rules, but it's none of his business anyway and in his four months with the club he's learned, above all else, that bikers are fuckin' weird. still danny finds you, watches as benny grabs your chin bringing you up up up onto your tiptoes before planting delicate kisses onto your giggling mouth. "you go see 'em." it's a whisper and danny's not trying to eavesdrop but he finds himself leaning closer. "looks like he needs some cheerin' up." and maybe danny is still invested because he turns, following you as you float over to johnny's table where he's hunched over an intimidating stack of papers. you say something, but your sweet voice is too quiet over the racket and danny cares so he stands, goes over to the pinball machine, but doesn't turn it on. "hi, pretty." johnny reaches over, takes your hand, tugs you closer and you giggle, bracing your hands on his broad shoulders and this is different. none of the other guys put their hands on you - just benny, just benny because he's yours and you're his but johnny does it so naturally danny knows he's done it before. "what's goin' on, old man?" your voice drips nothing but affection and johnny smiles around his cigarette and launches into club dues and the upcoming springfield run and the dwindling bail fund and danny starts losing interest; his feet are going numb and there's only so much longer he can stand there pretending to fucking play pinball before someone catches on but then you're on johnny's lap and yeah this never happens. danny has seen benny beat the dog shit out of a guy for even suggesting that you sit next to him but now here you are, balanced on one of johnny's broad thighs, spinning his wedding band around and around his finger and benny sees, fucking smiles at the sight, and drops his head, lining up his next shot at the pool table. danny realizes you're talking and running your hand up and down johnny's arm as you validate his feelings and strategize fundraising plans and promise to bake some of your infamous strawberry shortcake bites. johnny's promised hand lays so delicately upon your cheek danny thinks he may kiss you but thank fuck he doesn't because danny'd surely blow his cover and a load in his pants because, okay, yeah, he gets it. knows now why everyone loves you, has started to catch feelings of his own but he's not johnny or benny and he'll never be able to touch you the way he wants so he guesses he'll join the ranks with cal as just another distant admirer. just another love struck bastard.

[uranometrias]

my love mine all mine , aaron hotchner

this is incredibly self indulgent. i wrote this for myself, because my cat passed away today && i have no idea how to grieve correctly. but i've always been able to express myself the best through writing, so here i am trying to do so.

basically reader loses her kitten && hotch is there to comfort her while she grieves. reader is a doctor && gets her nails painted. mentions of sleeping in a scarf and braids (but this can apply to any race <3) hotch is pretty flirty. he also had a dog that died when he was younger (idk) ... i'm still getting used to writing him (but he's been rotting my brain) so hotch girlies please be sweet to me, i'm trying.

"Have you decided what you want me to grab on the way?" You feel giddy, eyes beaming vibrantly as you unlock your front door. Aaron was on the other line, he'd been looking forward to spending the evening with you for the past two weeks. Your jobs often sent you in separate directions, with him following cases cross country, and you spending nearly twenty hours a day working at Inova Fairfax Medical Campus. The commute was nearly an hour from Quantico, which made it difficult for your schedules to coincide the way you hoped.

Today though was an exception. He'd just gotten back from a case, a successful one, and you'd been lucky enough to finally get two days off. You couldn't contain your excitement when you'd finally managed to get Aaron on the phone, and with Jack staying at Jessica's for another night, it seemed everything was working out in your favor. You still had no idea what you were in the mood to eat, despite having ample time to figure it out. "I dunno." you mutter, and you drop your keys into the basket just to the left of the front door.

"Well honey, you've gotta give me something." Aaron chuckles, and his voices makes you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. "I'm sure you haven't anything at all today." and it doesn't take a rocket science to know he's absolutely correct. Your stomach grumbles audibly, and you cringe, the sound a dead giveaway of your poor eating habits. "Do you need a bit more time to think about it?" he asks, and you're nodding your head, despite the fact that he can't see you. Your focus is split, eyes darting around your place in search of Piper.

Piper was your five year old tabby, the most special companion that you'd cared for since she was a newborn. Usually she'd be making her way to your front door, nudging her head against your shins, meowing her head off as some form of reprimand for being gone too long. Her absence was unusual, but you'd noticed she'd been sleeping a touch longer in the recent months. You'd taken her to the vet and they'd written off any life threatening illnesses. Perhaps she was jus becoming a lazy cat they had said.

"What'd you eat yesterday?" you ask, and you shrug off your coat next, hanging it in the closet as you slip off your cork-leather clogs. You admire your pedicure, French-tips gleaming back at you as your feet hit the cherry laminate flooring. You imagined that he'd hardly been able to eat well while out on a case, Aaron (and his team) had a horrible habit of neglecting their own health and wellness for the sake of cracking the case. You'd call him out on it, but it'd feel to hypocritical with the way you gave most of your life to the hospital.

"Four cups of coffee." and he sounds sheepish as he replies, he'd been running himself ragged with this last particular case. He couldn't leave the precinct until he was convinced he'd made a dent in the investigation. He could imagine your disappointed pout, but he was doing his best, or at least trying his best. "But, Dave made sure that I got something this morning before we got on the jet." and it's not like he has to explain himself to you, you'd never berate him. He believed it was just a side effect of falling for you.

"Four cups?" you gasp, head already shaking. "You're going to turn into a cup of coffee if you keep up with habits like those." you scold. "You'll have to double your water intake, you could seriously dehydrate yourself that way." you say with a quiet huff. You round the corner of the foyer, heading for the kitchen. "Are you feeling alright?" your tone grows a bit softer, "Four cups means you were really absorbed in the case. Everything okay?" you tread lightly. You weren't quite sure how he felt about you asking about his job.

"As far as endings go, I'd say it was better than most." he replies thoughtfully, clearly unfazed by your desire to probe. That makes you smile a bit, the obviousness of his trust for you. "We minimized the amount of deaths, the unsub was taken into custody... the team worked really hard." he proceeds, and you find yourself grinning. "But, I will do a better job of taking care of myself. You'd be a good nurse, but I can imagine a few better scenarios for you to take care of me."

You smile despite the fact it makes your heart stutter step. You were still getting used to him growing more confident in this way, but you weren't complaining in the slightest. "I'd be a great nurse." you correct him delicately, "I'd enjoy taking care of you in any way though." and you bet he can hear your shyness through the phone. Your relationship with Aaron still felt fairly new, you'd been seeing one another for going on seven months, but you knew you loved him.

Even if you hadn't managed to say it just yet.

"Look at that, another thing we have in common." he exhales, and you want him to hurry up and get to you. You hadn't seen him in so long, and despite the fact you were willing to mount him on sight, you just wanted to enjoy being in the same place for once. "How are you? Did you have a good day?" and you like the way he's so attentive, how he seems to genuinely care about what you had to say.

"It was great." you insist, and you've poured yourself a glass of water, ice tinkling as you scanned the dining room for any sign of Piper. Still nothing, weird. "I went to the bookstore a bit earlier, got a few novels for my book shelf." you list. "I got my nails done, and I got a facial. It was so relaxing I wound up falling asleep on the table." and you chuckle a bit at the memory. "Piper and I went on a drive before lunch, she's so spoiled." you add, but you're still scouring the space.

"Drafted up my budget for the month, my new schedule came in," you exhale tiredly at the thought. "Picked up my scrubs from the dry cleaners, I did a grocery run, and went to see the flower exhibit near the Farmer's Market. I got this really incredible soft-pretzel croissant." you sigh dreamily at the memory. "And now I'm home, and waiting for you." you complete, and you lean forward, arms resting against the countertop. "It was a really nice day. I thought I wouldn't know what to do without work, but I'd nearly forgotten what it feels like to be off."

Aaron's silent, but not because he's disinterested in your ramblings. He finds them endearing, and oftentimes had to remind himself that you, much like Jack, needed verbal response in order to feel heard. "I missed you." and it's not quite what he was aiming to say, but it's what comes out. It's true, it had been a while since he'd seen you in person, and with the way your schedules overlapped, he'd hardly been able to get much conversation out of you apart from quick check-ins in between patients and breaks in BAU cases.

You let out a quiet puff of air, it's not quite a sigh nor an exhale. Your lips curve upwards, and you wonder if there's a record out there for most smiles achieved in a single phone call. "You've got no idea how happy that makes me." you reply, and you inhale deep. "I missed you too, hurry up and get over here." you press, and you replay the sound of his responding laugh over in your mind. You don't think you could be more lovesick, but it's a more than welcomed feeling. "As far as dinner, why don't I just cook something?" you offer with a shrug.

"Do you want to?" and Aaron's got this weird thing about him where he's still getting used to the fact that you want to do certain things for him. You go over it a lot, reminding him that you'd love nothing more than to spoil him as much as he spoils you. He's still a bit hesitant, but you don't mind fighting the good fight until he relented. His hands tighten just slightly on the steering wheel, and his leg jumps as he awaits your response. He knows, or better put, he has an idea of what you'll say. He still wants to hear it either way.

"We take care of each other, mon amour." You coo, and he feels that familiar rush of affection towards you. "It'll be fun." you add, and then you're sighing audibly. "I just really can't wait to see you. I don't want to wait any longer than I need to." you express, and Aaron understands. He'd been restless on the jet, Dave and Emily seemed to zero in on his jitters, he was thankful they had enough couth to keep it to themselves. All he received was a knowing smirk from Rossi as he made a beeline for the tarmac the second the jet landed.

"I'll be there soon." he promises, and you grow giddier. "I-" and he wants to cross the line, mutter three worded phrase that would change everything. He'd been learning to be more bold, to focus on the things he could control, and appreciate those things. "I love you." he doesn't have time to think about the repercussions, because it's out, and there's a strong sense of relief that washes over him. You are surprised, but elated. The excitement his words bring you is hard to diminish.

"I love you too." and it comes out as easy as breathing. Probably because you mean it with all of your heart. "I'll see you soon, Mr. Hotchner." you promise, and he's chuckling at your sudden formality, likely a side effect of your newfound nerves at the huge step you'd both taken in your relationship.

"See you soon." you don't bring the phone from your ear until you hear the faint click of the call ending. You exhale shakily, mind running at a mile a minute as your heart seems to double in size. Still, you find this moment is short lived- mind once again on the eerie silence in your apartment. You place your glass down on the counter, coaster be damned as you make your way past the dining room and towards the living room. Sometimes you'd find Piper curled up on the couch, quiet purrs escaping her as she slept contently.

"Piper!" you coo, surprised when you note that she's nowhere to be found. You know that she wasn't outside, you'd made sure before leaving back out that she was comfortable in the house. You follow the layout of your place, the archway that led from the living room back to the foyer is the route you take, heading towards your bedroom as you continuously call for the cat. "Piper, where are you, pretty girl?" you enter your room, hopeful that you'll find her there.

You spot her little paw peeking out of her hideaway and instantly relax. "Oh Piper, you scared me." you let out a shaky sort of giggle as you fully enter your bedroom, feet brushing over the comforting carpet. You kneel just in front of the hideaway, reaching out to pet her. It takes you a few moments to make peace with the fact that she's not rousing. You swallow thickly, a lump growing in your throat as you wiggle her paw. She doesn't move, just as limp as before.

"Piper?" you feel the way your throat constricts, eyes immediately wanting to brim with tears, as you grow frantic. "Oh, please no-" you exclaim, head shaking as you feel a shudder rack through you. You're gentle as you maneuver around the hideaway, hands looping around her small body as you move to pull her out. She's limp, not even the act of you lifting her up enough to make her move. Your glow feels like it's diminished almost instantly, a dark cloud setting in over your head. It seemed a bit silly, panicked over the loss of a cat.

But she was yours, like a daughter to you in the way you cared for her, and made her apart of your routine. She was special, and despite the reputation cats gained for being standoffish and unable to understand human love, you knew that to be wrong. Piper was sweet, a loving cat that curled up beside you every night and followed you like a second shadow. She'd play games of tag with you, chasing you around your apartment as you squealed and screamed for your life.

"Please, please, no-" you're shedding real tears now, they're slipping down your cheeks in a constant succession. "Piper, please wake up!" it's silly, probably. Rocking back and forth with a dead cat in your hand hoping that sheer adoration will be enough to turn back the hands of time. It's certainly not, and the reality crushes you. The first sob is choked, almost like you're holding yourself back, not letting your feelings take full affect. You hadn't prepared yourself at all.

You didn't know what to do.

You think that's when the first swell of sobs begins. They're more ugly wails than anything else, the loud sound echoing through the space in front of you as your arms lower, Piper's body leaning against you as you continued to let your tears flow freely. Your chest tightens, constricting every couple of seconds like you'd suddenly developed chronic heartburn. The pain is a violent assassin, the air around you feeling tight. You think you may be choking on all that you're feeling.

You hate the part of your brain that was constantly in 'Doctor Mode', the side that reminded you that despite your grief, handling a deceased animal like this was a surefire way to get sick. Her body wouldn't start to decompose for at least another day, but you had no real way of knowing just how long she'd actually been dead. You don't move though, until at least your sobs have waned, you know it's not the end of them, but it's a reprieve just for a moment.

You slowly climb to your feet, still clutching Piper as your eyes whip around your bedroom. Your eyes land on her carrier, and the image makes you want to cry all over again. You shut your eyes, allowing yourself to take in a deep breath. It doesn't help. Still, your feet lead you over to the carrier, where you're gently placing Piper. Her vet was only eight minutes up the street, and maybe your ability to dispose of her so quickly was precisely why this was happening to you.

Guilt was loud, too loud. It almost knocked you to your knees as you imagined Piper's fear whilst you were gone. Was she sick? How long had she been? Why hadn't you noticed? Why did you leave her alone? Why weren't you there? You let her down. You had let her down.

You want to curl into a ball, hide under the blankets and cry until you passed out. But, she deserved better. She deserved to not be lugged around like she was some prop, she needed a proper place to rest. Once her carrier is zipped up, you're picking it up by the handles, using your other hand to swipe at the tears still trying to fall. You take the route you'd walked not ten minutes prior, slipping your shoes back on, and grabbing hold of your keys. Aaron still had another forty minutes or so in his drive, you hoped it went by quickly.

You don't think you ever needed him more than now.

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The sobs returned the second you'd walked past the threshold of your house. You sluggishly made your way back to your bedroom. It felt much lonelier now, the house feeling much too big for just you. You think that makes you cry even harder. You're covering your mouth with your hand, hoping that it would be enough to mask the sound of your bawling. You doubt that it does, but you can't do much else. You don't want to go to sleep, you don't want to do anything.

You begin berating your behavior once more in your head, replaying all the ways you'd been a shitty caretaker even though you know it's a bad idea. Your leg shakes under your comforter, the blanket squished underneath your body as you hid your face beneath the blazing heat of your huge blanket. You don't even realize how long you've spent in this space of self-loathing and bitter tears, until you hear the front door's lock shifting out of place. Aaron was here.

"Y/N, sweetheart?" and you want to run to him more than anything. You can't though, because you don't want him to think you're a failure. So you stay put, and you cry a bit more, sniffles growing more audible as you're forced to choke back angry sobs. It doesn't take long for him to make his way towards where you are, and you don't know what he'll say when he finds you looking a mess. You know your mascara has given you racoon eyes, and in your grief, you'd failed to tie a scarf around your head. Your braids would look messy soon.

"Y/N?" and his voice is so soft, soothing, everything you don't deserve now. Your hand clutches a fistful of your shirt, right where your heart rests. "Are you in here, honey?" and you sniffle, an answer all on its own. You barely hear his footsteps, but you feel it when the bed dips just slightly, and you feel it when he gently pulls at your blanket. When he's pulled it back, he's met with the sight of your tear-streaked cheeks. Your nose was runny and raw, and your lip was quivering. It didn't take a profiler to know that you'd been crying, and he frowns.

"Are you alright?" he questions, and his hand reaches out to brush against your cheek and neck, almost like he was checking your temperature. "You've been crying?" and he examines you subtly for any signs of assault or struggle. "Did something happen?" and he knows he keeps asking questions, but he's getting worried.

"P-" and a sob racks through you, your entire body curling in on itself. Your hand is pressing against your mouth again, and your shoulders shake as you began to cry once more. "Piper she-" and your head shakes, hand clenching and unclenching against your shirt. Aaron's eyes dance around your room, and his eyebrows push inwards. He was worried, but determined to be extremely delicate with you, namely by being patient as you got out what you needed to tell him. "Piper's dead." you finally say, shoulders sagging as you weep.

Aaron's examining your face, which gives you a front row seat of the way his face is eclipsed with compassion. "Oh, honey..." his lips pull downwards into a frown, and you know, of course you know it's awkward. What do you realistically say to a person that loses their cat? It's not like any amount of conversation would bring her back. "I'm so sorry...." and usually it sounds empty when anyone offers condolences, but like with most things, Aaron is an exception. "Are you okay? Can you tell me what happened?" he pleads.

And you know that he knows that you're not okay. It's meant to be a stupid question, the obvious one. But you also know that he's giving you the chance to vent, to articulate everything you feel with no judgement. It makes you want to curl into him, and stay wrapped up in his arms until neither of you had any idea where one ended and the other began. "I just-" you have to take a moment to gather yourself, hiccupping blubbers escaping you. "I came home, and I-" your voice cracks harshly. "She was just gone. I don't-" you shake your head.

"I don't know what happened." you express, and Aaron's sympathetic, and he hates seeing you like this. Every time you cry it makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand upright. He supposed that came with loving you, an innate desire to protect you, and keep the bad things out. He'd only ever seen you in this state a handful of times, mostly when things went wrong at the hospital and you lost a patient. He had to get to you before you started blaming yourself for something that completely out of your control.

He didn't know much, but he did know your love for Piper, and how deep it ran. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that you'd never do something to put her in harm's way, you'd never do anything to hurt her. And he wants to pull you into his arms and tell you everything will be alright, he wants to be there to anchor you down. To ground you in the midst of all these swimming and overwhelming emotions trying to fight for the upper hand. He wanted to be there for you.

"Is there anything that you need from me?" he asks gently, grief was harsh, it came in ripples and waves. It was gut-punching, it could be loud and then silent. Sneaky and then outright. It was a process, and whether anyone else thought so, if you needed to grieve the life of your pet, you should. Who was he to ever get in the way? He's gently rubbing his thumb over your cheek, your tears splattering as you kept the duvet pulled up to your chin, as you stared him down. He figured you must have been deep in thought.

It takes a moment for you to reply, and he's fine with the silence. You're tears haven't stopped, but they've grown more quiet. Silent tears that pool and trickle down his wrist and onto the blanket. You soon take in a shaky puff of air as you sit up. Aaron's patient as ever, watching as you pull your legs from underneath the blanket, crawling until you were sitting on his lap. There's no sexual undertone to your movements, you don't want to fool around, you just want to be close.

Your head rests against him, eyes closing as his arms envelop you. "Can you just stay with me?" you ask, and he's already nodding his head. You both knew it was an impossible request. At any moment you could get paged, or he could get a call about a new case. The world didn't stop all because you were grieving, but for one second you both could pretend. He could stay right here with you, and you could love him, and not feel so overwhelmed by all your sadness.

"I'm not going anywhere." he mutters, and he's reaching for your hand. His easily dwarfs your own, but it's still just as comfortable, letting your palms press against his own. "I have never lost a cat before-" and he's treading lightly, wanting more than anything to help you and not harm you. "But I did lose a pet when I was younger." he expresses, and your interest is peaked, just slightly.

"What type of pet?" you ask faintly, and you're squeezing his hand in your own. He knows that it's comforting you so he says nothing about the tight pinch of his fingers pressing together.

"He was a golden retriever actually." Aaron replies, "Nothing was particularly wrong with him. He was fed well, taken care of, treated like one of the family..." he proceeds, and you involuntarily hold your breath as you listen. "But one day he just... he just went." Hotch proceeds, "And when you're a little kid that's not in the best environment, a staple like a pet dog is important. Losing him was like losing the only bit of sanity I could cling to. Does that make sense?"

Your head nods, and you squeeze his hand again to show him you care. "And surprisingly enough, I found myself crying over it. Mourning this dog, an animal that was part of the family, but of course, was not my family member." he continues, and his chin rests on the top of your head. "The point is, him being a dog didn't make it hurt any less when he left. It's okay to be upset about Piper, she was important to you, special even." he whispers. "And you did a great job giving her all the love you possibly could." his eyes close then.

"I need you to know that it wasn't your fault. And keeping yourself up with thoughts of 'what ifs'." it's his turn to squeeze your hand this time. "And those moments where you... didn't want to play, or wanted to be left alone are not what she remembered when she passed on." he insists, and he won't take any arguments on the matter. "You gave her five amazing years, and whether science backs it up or not, she knew how much you loved her." he insists. "You might not believe it today, but I hope that you do in time." and he kisses your forehead.

It's butterfly inducing, and makes you cling all the more to him. "You're not by yourself." he adds, and you're glad to know it. You peel back, eyes locking with his, and they're glassy. You hate seeing such a grief-stricken look on his face, at your sake no less. It makes you lean forward and kiss him, in the hopes you'd manage to kiss it away. He kisses back instantly, and you're still sad, you probably will be for a long while, but you don't feel as lonely as you did an hour ago.

"I love you." you mumble the second you've pulled back, and this time there's no phone. His eyes are swirling with so many thoughts and feelings of his own, but you need him to know you mean it, and likely always will. You couldn't imagine anyone else being here with you like this now, nobody else that would care enough to grieve with you. He gives you a half smile, and kisses you once more, a much deeper kiss that makes you lightheaded and dizzy. Of course he had that effect.

"I love you too." and you're happy that he hasn't left you hanging. Your fingers trace his collarbones and cheeks, moving to cup his face with your right hand. You kiss him again, this time just long enough to get the message across. When you pull back, your head is finding it's place back on his chest, and his arms move up and down, rubbing gentle circles against your back, as he cranes his neck to kiss your head. It makes your stomach flutter, but it makes you want to cry too.

He leaves three gentle pecks on the top of your head, moving to kiss your cheek, before he's looping his arms around your waist with a palpable amount of admiration. He plants a sweet kiss on your shoulder, and mimic this action by offering him a kiss of your own. "Thank you." you exhale, and you mean it so wholeheartedly.

"You don't need to thank me, Y/N. We take care of each other, mon amour, remember?" and he recites your earlier words back to you. It makes you cling to him much tighter, tears returning to your lashline as Aaron pulls you even closer to him. "If you need to cry a little bit more, go right ahead. I'm right here." so you do.

Grief was a lot, it could be paralyzing, debilitating, and outright traumatic, but you knew even if it didn't feel that way now, in time you'd be okay. Part of you felt like you had Aaron to thank for that.

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

I am so happy you're back and seem to be doing even a little bit better! We missed you!

I wanted to send a little message, so you can ignore it if it sours your mood or you don't feel like dealing with it, feel no pressure at all! It's just this blog has been a safe space and the community has been so welcoming that I figured I could vent really quick

You know when sometimes the brain just has a really shitty day, like when you draw something and it screams at you that it's trash even though there's nothing wrong with it? I've been having a rough time with it deciding to scream that comfort characters would cheat, probably as an 'You are so unlovable not even fictional characters would be loyal' bullshit. Now, logically, I know this makes -67 sense. But, I was wondering if you could just reassure that like, Sanji, Mihawk, Buggy, Shanks, Crocodile, Blablablablabla long list of One Piece characters you write for, would not cheat? I'm sorry, this sounds lame to even write out but I'm trying to get my brain to stop thinking that asking for help is 'pathetic' because it is not and it only applies that logic to me, never to anyone else.

I dunno man. Brains and bring human ate both though af.

I missed all of you as well. Really and sincerely. I have a tendency to go radio silent when I'm going through a difficult time and I hate it immensely, but hearing that I was missed to makes me all

And yes, oh gods, I know. My brain is frequently my worst enemy. Especially when I'm not writing. My anxiety starts working overtime and my creative drive becomes dedicated to coming up with problems that could potentially happen for me to worry about even more and it's an absolute bitch; or even when I am actively creating and a little voice insists that everything I make is stupid garbage.

This is still very much and always will be a safe space. It definitely is awful to feel that unworthy of love. Full disclosure, I've mentioned in passing before that I've been diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder depressive type. My main issue is auditory hallucinations that like to insist that everyone I love and care about only tolerate me out of pity and secretly would rather I not be around, which leads to me isolating myself from people. Huge part of the reason I go silent when life decides to be a bitch. I know it's just as bad feeling that way about comfort characters, if not even worse, when we're supposed to have them to help us get through that kind of bullshit.

So let me provide a little drabble for the one comfort character I’m certain wouldn’t ever allow us to continue being so silly about our worthiness of love and affection, because we’re all worthy of such a basic human need. I may do more later, but one in particular jumped at the opportunity to provide this comfort, and I fear he may counter me with his dreaded puppy-dog-eyes should I even dare attempt to wait.

Good Enough

OPLA!Sanji x AFAB!Reader

Lil drabble thingy

SFW, Hurt/Comfort

Possible TRIGGER WARNINGS for depression, insecurity, self-worth

♫♬ Moonshine ♬♫ — The Fratellis (yes I’m STILL on my Fratellis BS leave me be)

"Never knowing is the most evil feeling, when every answer here is none too appealing"

Sanji had always been a flirt. You knew that from the moment you started working on the wait staff at Baratie. Your trust issues had made it a little difficult for you to open up around the young sous chef (and occasional waiter on the frequent occasion that Zeff kicked him out of the kitchen for insubordination), but it was his outgoing nature and perseverance that had ultimately won you over. He had a way of making you feel like you were the only girl in the world when you were together, doting upon you, all but worshipping the ground you walked on.

But when he was sent out to work the dining area, it always made you nervous. His innate charm, his handsome features—he was nearly always a hit with female customers. No matter how much you told yourself that he was only doing his job, there was always a nagging feeling that maybe there was more to it than that. Watching him interact with a table of pretty young women, who by their clothing and demeanor were obviously far more affluent and sophisticated than you, left you distracted in your own work.

Seeing how they giggled at everything he said, how they fluttered their eyelashes when he brought them their drinks.

How the pretty blonde at the table leaned so close to him while he pointed to something on the menu, close enough to brush her hand across his.

You managed to spill a tray of drinks all over yourself while you were watching, leading to a scolding from the front of house manager. You saw the table of girls from the corner of your eye, giggling at your clumsiness before you were sent off to clean yourself up and change your uniform.

No matter how much you told yourself you were being silly, there was nothing you could do to shake it. The doubts, the thoughts of how easily he could find someone better than you. You had your jaw clenched the entire time you were changing your shirt in the staff restroom, tossing the soiled one aside as you leaned against the sink in front of the mirror and forced yourself to take slow, level breaths.

You were still on the clock. You couldn’t break down. You had to get changed, had to get back to work, had to pretend everything was fine, if he found out you were being so stupid about this then he would definitely drop you like a bad habit, you had to compose yourself or—

Knock knock.

Your eyes darted to the bathroom door, your breath catching in your throat at the sound of the light knock.

“J—just a minute,” you forced out, flinching at the sound of your own voice breaking a little.

Stupid, you’re being stupid, stop it stop it stop it—

A brief silence followed your answer, a silence that seemed to stretch on for miles despite lasting only a few seconds. The familiar, gentle voice that answered after a moment made your hands clench around the porcelain of the sink.

“You alright, love?” You drew in a sharp breath, swallowing, clenching your eyes shut. Of course it was Sanji. You had almost hoped that the manager had come scold you for taking too long. That would have been easier to deal with right now. Your eyes darted to the locked doorknob as it rattled a little. “I heard—”

“I’m fine,” you said immediately, the strained quality of your own words as they met your ears making your hands tighten a little more on the edge of the sink. “I—I just tripped and spilled a few drinks, I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” You gritted your teeth, laying your head back to stare up at the ceiling. Of course he wouldn’t let it go that easily. The doorknob rattled a little again, and you glanced at it as if it were a viper poised to strike out at you at any second.

Stupid, you’re being stupid, don’t—

“You sound—”

You reached out and turned the lock on the doorknob, and turned away from the door, crossing your arms over your half-buttoned shirt and stared down at your feet. After a long moment, you heard the door open behind you.

Evidently you didn’t look any less distressed than you felt. His quiet sigh met your ear as the door shut lightly and the lock turned. “Oh, love, it’s fine,” he said gently, his footfalls echoing quietly in the small bathroom, closing the short distance across the tile floor between the two of you. Your whole body tensed as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, resting his forehead over the crown of your hair with a quiet chuckle. “It’s only a few drinks, it could happen to anyone.”

You shook your head, your shoulders shaking a little. Stupid, it was so stupid, but the words were already leaving your mouth before you could stop them. “Oh, yeah, anyone.” You couldn’t stop. You couldn’t. He had a way of pulling all your insecurities to the surface that no one else did. You pulled your crossed arms tighter, staring down at the white floor tiles for a moment before shutting your eyes tightly, your voice shaking a little. “Especially a dumb screw-up like me—”

“Don’t do that.” His tone came out a little sharper with this, and your breath hitched audibly in your throat this time, your shoulders hunching as you clenched your eyes shut tighter, swallowing back the lump in your throat. As if to counter your stiff posture, he pulled his arms tighter around your waist, pulling you closer, his thumb rubbing lightly against your waist in a comforting manner. “Don’t, sweetheart. Please.”

The warmth of his embrace already had you relaxing a little. Your shoulders slumped, your body leaning back against him, but your eyes were still burning when you opened them to stare down at the toes of your shoes.

“Was it the manager?” he asked gently, shifting behind you to rest his chin on your shoulder. “If he was being an ass I’ll gladly kick his ass off the docks.” Your breath left your lungs in a slow, trembling sigh as you shook your head no, your gaze drifting down to his hand at your hip, still rubbing lightly against you, your lips curling into a fleeting smile at his offer. You knew you were being stupid, but… “Then what’s wrong, love?” he asked, his voice a soft, comforting murmur in your ear.

“I…” You drew in a deep breath, closing your eyes as he tilted his head so his cheek lay against your shoulder. “Y—you—“

You swallowed against the lump forming in your throat, drawing in a deep breath, trying and failing to steady the whirlwind of thoughts swirling through your mind, thoughts of how maybe this was all a lie, of how you weren’t anything more than a silly little fling to him, how you weren’t good enough, how easily you could be replaced.

You bit your lip, glancing down as his hand found yours, watching his fingers lace between your own…and the breath left you in a slow, resigned sigh.

“It’s stupid,” you said quietly.

“If it’s got you this upset, then it’s anything but stupid,” he countered, and you had to purse your lips tightly to keep them from curving into a small smile as you felt his press briefly against your cheek in a soft kiss. “And if it’s something I’ve done—”

“N—no, you haven’t—” But how quickly you shook your head, how your shoulders tensed, betrayed your worries. “I…I just…” You slowly relaxed once more as he squeezed you against him, his cheek nuzzling against your shoulder, his soft blonde hair tickling against your neck. Still unable to turn your head to meet his eyes, you bit the bullet and forced yourself to voice your worries. “You have beautiful women making goo-goo eyes at you all day,” you said, keeping your voice low in an attempt to keep it steady. “I—I don’t—I’m not—” You bit your lip, your heart racing as you clenched your eyes shut, cursing yourself internally as you felt the tickle of a tear leaving your eye to trail down one of your cheeks. “Y-you could have any girl you wanted. L—like that blonde that was hanging all over you while you were showing her the menu, or—or—”

“Oh, sweetheart…” You weren’t quite able to mask the small sob that hitched in your chest as Sanji loosened his embrace—only to gently place a hand on your hip, guiding you to turn around and face him, to pull you against his chest as you tried and failed to fight back tears. He gently shushed your quiet sobs and stammered apologies as he wrapped his arms around you fully, combing his fingers through your hair as he laid his head over yours. Your eyes remained clenched shut as you fought to control your breathing , as he pressed a tender, lingering kiss to your forehead.

Sanji lowered his head and nuzzled into your hair, holding you flush against him.

“I already have the girl I want. The perfect girl.” He pressed another tender kiss to your temple, murmuring against your skin, “I have her right here in my arms. And I hope,” he said, his tone turning a little playful as he shifted to rest his forehead against yours, “that I’ll still have her tonight after dinner shift is over.” He brushed your hair behind your ear, smiling as he tilted his head to meet your gaze, puling a small smile to your lips as your cheeks grew a little warmer. “So we can cuddle up together on the balcony…watch the stars…laugh at all the drunk idiots stumbling back to their boats…”

You could practically hear him smiling as a few soft giggles escaped you, as you finally leaned fully against him and returned his embrace, your arms wrapping around his torso as you buried your face against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, relaxing against him. “I…I’m just…”

“I know, love.” The way he called you ‘love’ all but melted your heart now that you were calmed down, pulling a faint smile to your lips. “I know. You don’t have anything to be sorry for. And if it’s any consolation, I was in the middle of telling that self-righteous blonde bimbo how my sweet, adorable, beautiful girlfriend would wring her neck if she kept putting her hands on me—“ He chuckled as you whined in protest of his praise, tugging you closer and grinning, meeting your eyes without hesitation.

He lifted his hand to your face, his thumb brushing across your cheek, the warmth of his gaze holding yours.

“I—“

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

You both jolted in alarm, your heads turning in unison toward the sound of the pounding on the bathroom door. Before you could so much as glance at each other, a gruff voice spoke up from behind the door.

“We’re in the weeds, Eggplant!” Zeff called . “Get your scrawny ass to the kitchen! And bring your damned girlfriend, we need all the help we can get.”

A long moment of silence stretched between the two of you as you both stared at the closed bathroom door, before your gazes drifted slowly toward each other.

Before you were both giggling under your breath, as you buried your forehead against his chest, a broad smile spreading across your lips as you clung to him.

“I suppose we’ve been summoned,” said Sanji, pulling back from you only enough to gaze down at you, still smiling. “Shall we, then?”

[rotknox]

Acta, non verba | Cryptic Comforts

Work on AO3 | Work on Wattpad | Masterlist

𝙳𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚜, 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜

═════════-°- ⚠ -°-════════��

Bill was lying on his mattress, sulking in annoyance. He stared at the mold on the ceiling, slightly fascinated by the sheer amount of it - he could get a disease from this! Awesome!

He stared at his new body, a slight frown on his face. He had always wanted a physical form, but why did he feel so... unamused and bored? He shook his head and tried to roll over, only to let out a sudden yelp. The bone armour for his lungs hurt so much! Why?!

He silently cursed Ford for poking at his skin so much, now he would have bruises for days!

He could hear the bickering below, but rolled his eyes. For now, he was going to indulge in the human delicacy of 'sleeping soundly'.

═════════-°- ⚠ -°-═════════

Ford was sitting at the kitchen table, Stan across from him with a questioning look on his face. "What's with the face, Poindexter?" he asked and Ford looked up. He didn't know how to bring this up with his brother in any way.

"'Do you remember Bill, Stanley?" Ford asked and Stan rolled his eyes, "Oy, that stupid triangle..," he said bitterly, leaning back in his seat. Ford rubbed his forehead before deciding to confess, "Well... when you killed him in your mind, his mind form escaped to an area outside of time. He was taken to a facility called 'Theraprism' where he was to be put through a rehabilitation process. Due to a lack of progress, he was sent here,"

Stan then looked at Ford and furrowed his brow, "So you're telling me there's a space demon in our house?" he asked sharply and Ford nodded, " That's right... Don't worry, I've got him under control. I have already run some tests on him and his supernatural properties are extremely low,"

Stan groaned, "Remember, the moment he acts out, I will make sure he is thrown out of this place," Ford nodded, "I agree. He's already been warned... Though you seem a lot calmer about it,"

Stan shrugged, “Guess since I killed him, he’s become less of a threat in my eyes. I dunno, but… I’m too tired for this, I’m gonna head to bed. You should do the same,"

Stan left the room and Ford sighed. He looked out the window, silently wondering if he had made the right choice… Only time could tell.

═════════•°• ⚠ •°•═════════

The morning sun hit the window and shone directly into Bill's eyes. He groaned loudly and sat up, "Stupid..,"

He ducked away from the light, grumbling. There was a knock at his door and he narrowed his eyes, "What?" he said sharply.

The door opened to reveal Mabel, "Hello, mister," she said, crossing her arms. Bill glared at her and huffed, "What do you want, shooting star?" he asked, glaring at her. Mabel just grinned, "For you to join us for breakfast!"

Bill blinked, staring at the little girl, "And if I don't?" Mabel looked at him, frowning, "I'll have to drag you downstairs myself!"

Bill couldn't help but chuckle, "Really? You and what upper body strength?"

...

Dipper was quietly eating the breakfast Stan had made, reading a cryptid magazine. [Name] had also joined them at Ford's request.

"You know, Latin America has some interesting legends," [Name] commented as he sipped his coffee. Dipper piped up and smiled, "Do you have anything I can read?" the teenager asked. [Name] chuckled and ruffled his hair, "Sure. Just remind me before I clock out,"

"C'MON, MOVE!" they all heard Mabel yell, "NO! I AM AN ADULT HUMAN, I CAN MAKE MY OWN, DID YOU JUST BITE ME?"

Ford blinked and looked at Stan, "Should we help?" he asked. Stan shrugged as he read his paper, "Nah, she's got him,"

[Name] looked up to see Mabel dragging an angry Bill down the stairs. She plopped him down on a chair and exhaled, "Damn, he's pissed!"

"Language, young lady," Ford sighed. Bill grumbled and then looked beside him. His eyes met [Name]'s and his eye widened, "O-Oh! You're here... Why?"

[Name] smiled, "Mr Pines invited me. He found out I don't eat enough and gave me a LONG lecture..," he said and Bill laughed a little, "Yeah, sounds like Sixer..," he commented, looking at Ford to make sure HE wasn't getting a lecture either. 

“Alright, let’s cut to the case,", Stan said as he put his newspaper down. He looked at Bill and spoke sternly, “You aren’t staying here for free, three-sides,"

Wow. Stupid nickname AND a rent order? Bill was rightfully offended.

"Yeah? Says who?" asked Bill challengingly. Stan narrowed his eyes at him, "Says me. Either you get a job or you sleep with the raccoons,"

[Name] looked over and sighed, "If it's too much for you, Stan, he can stay with me," he offered. Bill's eye twinkled as he looked over at the man. Ford shook his head, "No, [Name]. Bill has to stay here so I can keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn't get out of hand.

[Name] couldn't help but laugh a little, "Why? Look at him, Mr Pines! He looks fine to me," he said as he gestured to Bill. Ford furrowed his brow before deciding against a rebuke. [Name] wasn't from Gravity Falls, nor was he around when Weirdmageddon happened, he didn't know what Bill was capable of.

Bill, on the other hand, felt his heart race when [Name] defended him. Mabel took note of this.

"Look, Mr Pines. I'm not sure what your deal is with this guy, but I personally think he deserves better treatment. So how about I take this guy and the kids to do some shopping?" [Name] suggested as he stood up. Ford hesitated but was interrupted by Stan, "Sure, just don't let him out of your sight.

Bill looked over at Stan in slight surprise. [Name] smiled, "You got it! Come on, let's go,"

Dipper eagerly followed [Name] and Mabel dragged Bill along with her. Once outside, Ford turned to Stan with an angry expression on his face, "What the hell, Stanley?! Didn't you hear me tell you to keep an eye on him?"

Stan groaned and looked at Ford, "Look, if you want to see Bill's nature then you need to let him go once in a while. If he can behave himself when he's out of your grasp, then maybe he's not a threat,"

Ford stared at him, trying not to scowl, "He is dangerous, Stanley! Why are none of you worried?" Stan stood up and glared at him, "The sky's still blue, time is moving forward, nobody has any extra appendages that I know of. So stop being a wet blanket,"

═════════•°• ⚠ •°•═════════

Bill sat in the passenger seat of [Name]'s car and shifted a little. "Just so you know, Bill, I let you ride shotgun because I was feeling generous," Bill couldn't help but chuckle at Dipper's 'nonchalant' attitude, "Yeah, yeah. How's that green M&M working out for you?" he commented and Dipper almost choked.

Mabel just smiled, "Well, I think this is a good time to show Bill here what he's been missing!"

Bill just gave an absent-minded 'uh-huh' and stared out of the window. Mabel's brows furrowed in curiosity and she followed his gaze, her eyes landing on [Name], who was chatting with Wendy outside the Mystery Shack, presumably to get her to cover his shift while he was gone.

Mabel gasped and started to shake Dipper's arm, then leaned in and whispered to him. Dipper paled and looked at the back of Bill's head.

"So, Bill..," Mabel began and Bill almost groaned, "Your thoughts on [name]?" she asked with a mischievous little smile. Bill turned to her and narrowed his eyes, "What do you care?"

Dipper chimed in, "Well, he's someone we all love very much. And we don't want anything to happen to him,"

Bill couldn't help but grimace, "What the hell is this? Meeting my girlfriend's parents for the first time? Relax, I won't do anything to him," Dipper looked at him suspiciously and Mabel was planning something in her head.

[Name] finally got into the car, "Sorry to keep you waiting, guys. I had to bribe Wendy to cover for me while we're away," he chuckled as he started the car. The engine purred to life and the radio automatically switched to some music by [Favourite Band Name].

Bill gave the radio a look of mild interest and [Name] noticed. The taller man smiled a little, "Do you want to change it to something else?" he asked. Bill looked up in slight surprise, "Er... Sure,"

[Name] smiled and nodded as he started to pull out of the car park, he spoke to Mabel, "Hey, Starlight? Can you hand my CD's to Bill?"

Mabel let out a cheerful "Yep!" and grabbed the CD binder from under the driver's seat. "For the passenger princess!" she said teasingly and Dipper laughed a little. Bill laughed sarcastically and grabbed the binder.

He thumbed through the contents of the binder and hummed a little. He saw a bunch of bands and artists he didn't even know. He looked over at [Name] and remembered the name of an artist, "Do you have Vera Lynn?"

[Name] kept his eyes on the road, but his attention remained on Bill, he smiled and shook his head, "No, but I have Doris Day. She has a similar feel to Vera,"

Bill looked down and searched for this Doris Day lady. He picked up the CD and removed the other one from the radio, carefully placing it back in an empty pocket of the folder. He inserted the CD he had chosen and waited patiently for the song to begin.

His ears were blessed by the soft voice of an angel and his eyes sparkled again. [Name] smiled and looked over at Bill, "You like romantic music?" he asked. Bill shrugged a little, "I guess so..,"

Bill felt all tingly inside as [Name] smiled at him... Maybe he had a tapeworm? Yes, that explains it.

They reached the mall. Bill was a bit fascinated by how... funny it looked.

"All right, kids, listen up," [Name] shut off the car and turned to the back seat. "Mr Pines is clearly on a weird tangent with Bill here, yeah? So, since he's not going to do it, I suggest we give him a warm welcome with some proper furniture and whatnot!"

Mabel was ecstatic about this, while Dipper just listened intently. Bill raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms, "For your information, I'm fine with my room as it is," [Name] turned to him and raised his eyebrows, "You're fine with an air mattress and a mold infestation? Yeah, that's what I thought. Well, let's not waste any time!"

═════════•°• ⚠ •°•═════════

The mall was bustling with people, the smell of fried food hit Bill’s nostrils like a freight train. He could hear gossip from a mile away. “Okay so, where should we start?” [Name] asked Dipper and Mabel. Mabel hummed in thought before gasping. “The houseware store!”

[Name] nodded. “Exactly. Let’s get a move on then,” he declared and began to walk. Mabel decided to take a chance to reveal her master plan.

She let Dipper and [Name] walk a bit further from them before snatching Bill. “Listen, Bill. My plan is to make sure you live a normal human life! I think this therapy thing can work out for you! You just need some pizazz for your new life!”

Bill blinked and shrugged. “Okay,"

Mabel frowned a bit. “Hey, what happened to you? You’re usually obnoxiously flashy and psychotic… Now you’re making Dipper seem more entertaining,” she asked with concern. Bill sighed and shook his head. “I’m just not in my best mood. I guess I lost all of my ‘me’ after I died,"

Mabel gave him a sympathetic look but smiled, “Well, I’m sure we can get you feeling better in no time! Just, uh… Don’t try any funny business,"

Bill chuckled. “I couldn’t even if I tried,"

═════════•°• ⚠ •°•═════════

The houseware store should be considered a World Wonder.

Bill looked around in awe at the sheer amount of things being sold there. He looked over at [Name] and bit his lower lip, “Your plan..?”

[Name] blinked before realization dawned on him. “Oh shit, right! So, Dipper and Mabel are gonna head off to buy you some new clothes while you and I browse for things to make your room feel more… well, you,"

Bill chuckled. “Oh you don’t know the things I like, Two-Legs," Bill playfully poked [Name]’s nose and began to walk in a random direction. [Name] suddenly remembered he had to keep an eye on Bill, he immediately powerwalked after him.

Mabel smiled bright. “C’mon, bro-bro! Let’s get Bill clothes!” Dipper followed close with a slight concerned expression. “Uh, Mabel? What kind of clothes would Bill even wear? What size is he?!”

Mabel pondered as she walked toward a clothing store. “Well… He’s pretty lanky so I can assume he’d be a size S!”

Dipper shrugged but followed his sister into the clothing store.

═════════•°• ⚠ •°•═════════

Bill looked around the aisles of the houseware store and frowned, nothing caught his interest. “Ugh…” [Name] looked over at him and raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong, Bill?”

Bill just sighed. “Nothing here is my style, brainbox…” He said dramatically and looked at [Name]. “My tastes are too… otherworldly for this store," The taller male hummed thoughtfully before looking at Bill. “Wanna check out the antique store?”

Bill almost tripped from how fast he stopped pacing around. He looked at [Name] with the brightest smile and nodded. “Oh you read my mind doncha’, brainbox? Let’s go," He eagerly followed [Name] out of the store with a pleased smile. 

…

��You just made me spend $3,000 on an antique shop," [Name] muttered as he stared at the floor. Bill smiled as he held his bag full of antiques.

“And I said thank you~” Bill reminded him with a little smug smirk. [Name] just laughed weakly and stared at the receipt again. He heard some excited squeals and looked up. “[Name]! [Name]!!!”

He sat up only to be knocked down by Mabel headbutting him straight to his stomach. [Name] groaned loudly and almost cried. Bill looked down and raised an eyebrow. “Whatcha got there, shooting star?” Mabel just smiled, “Nothinggg… DIPPER HIDE THE BAGS!” She practically yelled at her twin, almost making Dipper scream.

[Name] looked at his watch and sighed. “Well, I think we can head home now,” Mabel nodded, yawned and Dipper did the same, Bill laughed a little. “Aww, look at you two little dummies! Seems like some kids need bed, huh?”

Dipper lazily glared at Bill and Mabel just smiled. “You’re getting your Billy-ness back…”

…Billy…

Bill just laughed dismissively. “Get a move on, yeah?” Dipper mumbled something about Bill not being allowed to boss them around; meanwhile, Mabel took her brother’s hand and began to walk in front of the two men.

Bill decided to take the words his doctor said to him once to heart. “Um… Thanks for taking care of me, [Name]... You didn’t have to.”

[Name] smiled at him. “Well… When I saw you sleeping on the floor in that moldy room, I knew I had to step in… I can feel something in you, Bill,” he said as he placed a hand on Bill’s back. “Let’s get you back home.”

Bill felt warm inside again.

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<- Prologue | Chapter 2 ->

taglist: @cyber-dump-171 @nephalem-da @magicalbunbun

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[riewritten]

what do you think Erwin considers himself that he sucks at but at the same time he enjoys doing it? suddenly i thought of tiktoks that are like "having a hobby you're bad at is okay". do you have any hobbies you consider yourself not good at too?

tbh i think the "bad" and "good" stuffs are all social constructs, but i'm still struggling with crocheting just bc i think i suck but at the same time i know that's something i do for relax. still sometimes i can't afford to think that way??? do you have the same problem and have you overcome it? i have no idea if this is a prompt or just me asking you stuffs.

do you often project what you're thinking into your writing and visual arts and any other form of art?

oh my god this is getting nowhere 🥲🥲 thank you for reading Rie. have a good day!!!

THE BEST BIRTHDAY

ERWIN SMITH X GEN NEUTRAL!READER

TAGS: fluff, slice of life, kissing, comfort, office romance AU, idiots in love, insecurities, and AAAA HAPPEE BIRTHDAY ERWIN (this also goes with my most recent ask)

WORDS: 2.9k

hi @frenchdyer ❤ i know i took this long bc i've been thinking about this. like the otherworldly self-reflectio i only tend to have once in a year or whenever i'm PMS-ing lol. how's your crocheting? were you able to improve somehow months after you had sent me this msg? my sister gifted me a crochet kit, so i've been planning to learn, too!

on a personal note, the hobby i suck at but enjoy doing nonetheless is drawing! perhaps it's a self-esteem issue, but i've been drawing since i was 5. the passion came to me even before i learned how to write! due to the amount of years i've been trying to master it only to have minimal progress, i can say drawing is smth i can never admit i'm good at. but i came to terms to it now (when i was in highschool i was so insecure about it lol) and bc i did, i draw things to enjoy, not bc i'm utterly pressured to improve!

On the surface, even his closest friends would have a different time answering this question. It's Erwin we're talking about, after all! The literal embodiment of academic perfection and charisma!

Erwin also wants to think of something other than an answer. Although he admits his flaws well when someone points them out, he wants to be good at everything as much as possible. For a perfectionist like him, self-admittance would mean giving up!

It is until you said something that made him recnsider. "Sometimes, I don't see you as a human."

In hindsight, the context of your question was, "What do you want to have for your birthday?" but Erwin seems to be the type to already have the things he'd want and need in life, perhaps if one were to speak materially. Every gift he'd receive would only impact him a little, and you want to change that.

He chuckles at the remark, amused as your features remain serious, "Do I feel like an alien?"

"Dunno," you shrug without turning up at him—only at the papers, hiding a frustrated blush. "And if you're actually a slimy organism underneath? It scares me."

You hear the office chair sliding towards you, and as swift as ever, Erwin's hand is on top of yours. He squeezes it gently, and you try to hold your fluster by glaring at him. Luckily. Only the two of you are in the office; what would the others say if they saw this? You and Erwin made it clear to keep your relationship hidden by acting 'decent' in public places.

He lets you feel its warmth first, although unsure of the reason why, then he guides your hand towards his cheeks. He presses your palm on it. 

"W-what?"

Erwin casually leans his cheek to your palms, albeit with a tranquil expression contrary to you, perhaps amusingly watching your reaction. "Mind repeating what you said earlier?"

"I said underneath. Hypothetically. And I don't mean it literally as well."

"Underneath? Well, that's quite a unique way of asking me to—"

You swatted your hand away and lightly hit his chest as you couldn't hold the fluster. "Stop playing with me. I'm not done yet."

"Well, I'm done."

"Please don't make it my problem."

"I'm actually offering to help."

You perk up in glee. If Erwin's to help, then you might as well consider yourself done. You pulled your chair away from your desk so Erwin could look at it.

However, Erwin asks something completely unrelated amidst the heap of your paperwork. "Why do you not see me as a human?"

"You feel like some sort of god."

"Silly, that's a metaphor that would fit you more."

"Oh, you. Stop flustering me." you huff in sarcasm. "You know about the crocheted scarf I was planning to give you before winter ends?"

"Yeah, and it's summer already. I'm still waiting for it, though."

"I threw it away."

"Huh?" Erwin looks at you in surprise, eyebrows twitched in confusion, perhaps in a whine. He knows you've been trying so hard for it. "Why would you?"

"I'm not good at it."

"But you were enjoying it. You told me so."

"Not because I enjoy it means I'm good at it," you then smile in defeat. "Let's just say I'm not as fast at learning as you are, no matter how much the task interests me. Maybe that's why I sometimes can't deem you human, too. Too good for me, I think."

Erwin could only observe you afterward. You don't try to make it a big issue, none but admittance that unpretentiously comes out of your mouth. As much as it is, perhaps, concerning self-esteem, Erwin is the one hit by it. The way you could admit your flaws a bit too easily and go home without pondering on it is something he couldn't easily do even if he tried. It takes one to help overcome an insecurity and another to admit his own.

"That's not true."

"It is. You really excel at everything, Erwin. That's something I also yearn to have for myself. You don't have flaws. Or, well, let's say you have one, but no normal being can see it so easily."

Well, you were able to lay down his flaws then and there. After all, he's having difficulty coming to terms with his flaws—or perhaps, on saying such admittances out loud. You are right. As much as Erwin demands you to open yourself up to him, some facets stay unsaid because he opts to and wants to remain an ideal image, perhaps one who can only admit his inadequacy if someone points it out. You're the complete opposite, though. You could admit your flaws and still end the day happily. The 'incompatibility', or so you might call it, could be giving him a hard time consoling you.

Oh, and when he recently enjoys consoling you the most. He really appreciates having you open up to him, enjoys the privilege of being able to take care of you as you let him, enjoys listening to your blabbers, and offers resolutions just like the strategic man he is. After all, he's one of the few people who sees that.

Only if he doesn't suck doing it.

"Oh no, did I say something that upset you?" you ask worriedly, sensing his silence.

And he's not the one to be given comfort right now, or so he thinks. It's as if you hit a nail, albeit unaware of how and where it hit him.

Just as if closing the distance is the needed nudge, Erwin pulls your figure towards him, holds both cheeks and surrenders to sweet kisses. Erwin's lips are warm, and the pace is languid. Yet, it's overwhelming enough to deprive you of your senses, let alone the urgent question of why he is suddenly acting the way he is. This might be the first time he got intimate with you inside the workplace. You know this type of kiss from him, too—he does it whenever he's dreary or after working on a significant research paper that got him weary.

The worry reverberates, and thus, you withdraw from the kiss, "Is this because of the scarf? I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have thrown it away. Don't worry, I'll make another one and—hmph!"

He cuts you off for another kiss, harsher this time, perhaps classified as a silent sulk for cutting off the lovely exchange, but no—you're wrong. It's not on you at all. Erwin is frustrated with himself. He holds onto your waist until you're seated on his lap and wraps his hand around your neck to press you further to his chest—hoping it would compensate for the distance you two have due to his inadequacies. To be great in giving you solace is to be vulnerable and imperfect; how could he do that?

He withdraws when both of you need air, albeit begrudgingly, "I'm sorry, Erwin. I know you waited for that scarf."

"No, it's not about that."

"Then what?"

He pretended to ponder for a few seconds, eyes roaming the room to gather his words. He pursed his lips before pointing out, "Don't you think the way you perceive me as a human far beyond you is a flaw I might have? Partners are not supposed to see each other that way."

"I'm merely exaggerating."

"Yes, but still."

"Are you saying you must apologize to me because you're such a perfect being?"

"No, because I'm failing to show you that I'm not."

Oh. 

You finally see where he's coming from. "Are you failing by choice?"

He averts his gaze away, "Yes."

"Then it can really be a flaw," you flash him a sympathetic smile, moving his face so he'd see you in the eyes again, "can you tell me why?"

“I'm not brave enough to show it the way other people do."

"You just did, honey."

"Not because I want to, but because I'm insecure about my inability to console you like a normal partner would. The way you perceive me right now says a lot about our distance. And mind you, doing this isn't even supposed to be this hard."

Both of you stopped. That is by far the most vulnerable thing he had said about himself since you started dating months ago—and it wouldn't even sound vulnerable unless it came out of Erwin's mouth. That's how hard he's been all this time.

He expects you to be annoyed. After all, that might be one of the shallowest reasons he had ever given, too.

But then you smile as if you appreciate him for saying that much—just as if you know it takes a lot for the Erwin Smith to admit something like that, "It's not something you can unlearn overnight. Do not fret."

He lets out a defeated chuckle, "That I know well."

"What's strange is that I'm not your first partner. How come this didn't become a problem with your previous ones?"

"Because people are content to perceive me that way. At some point, I preferred that, too. Honestly—" he leans his head on your shoulder, hands on your waist to keep your balance on his lap, "had it not affected the way I console you, I would prefer things to stay that way."

You pepper him with kisses all over his face, something he accepts as a reward, "Honestly, I would prefer you this way, too. A relationship with a god can be a bit of a struggle, after all."

"Indeed it is. What a struggle I have right now."

You glare at him, "What do you mean by that?"

He shakes his head nothing, hands lurking inside your shirt to feel you more, to shower you with reverence, "Let me finish this now. I miss our bed."

Today is his birthday, and you still need to think of a gift that could be deemed special.

As a last-minute reflection before giving up the gift that has been frustrating you for days, you try to ponder on the previous days since he opened up.

Erwin has become more talkative since then. He's always been chatty towards you since you started the relationship, especially when info dumping. However, this has a stark difference. He's trying too much as if matching an expectation no one but him had set up. Wording it as "forced" would perhaps hurt, but it's not something you could deny, either. Only when afternoon came did you realize how to fix it, with Erwin on a couch and crochet yarns on his lap. He has his phone at the coffee table and the familiar tutor video playing in the background. Eventually he sighs, unties the yarn, and repeats—this time with much precision, and you couldn't help but smile. When Erwin is about to learn something new, he locks himself in his office and spends the whole day studying it alone. Only now did you finally unravel why, and it's apparently part of his mentioned flaw that night.

He might be forcing himself lately, but it's the adjustment that counts.

Erwin perks up in surprise when you sit beside him and hold his hand. You guide his fingers into the correct way of tying the knot. You didn't say anything, and maybe you even tried to act like it's an everyday routine. Erwin pretends to listen and pick up the techniques you're blabbering, but in reality, he's just looking at your face. His lips are flat but twitching as he's trying to hold the urge to steal a kiss. He tries to inhale longer to indulge in the scent of your hair but not too much to call your attention. And as the moment passes, thirty minutes, perhaps because the video's finally done playing in the background, Erwin realizes something.

Just… just what held him back from being like this towards you? This is, in fact, a short step. The bare minimum, even. And even so, it felt genuinely liberating. Indeed, he's been forcing himself to be vulnerable recently, but this is the first time it exuded a positive feeling. 

Your hands gently stop, the instruction's done, and Erwin only realizes when you turn to look him in the eye, "You get it?"

"The what?"

"Huh?"

"Oh," Erwin tries to recall what his blank, sappy head might have digested so far, only to no avail. The only thing coming up in his mind right now is the smell of your shampoo. Perhaps his nerdy brain is trying to guess the unfamiliar flavor mix and earn your praise once his guess is correct. "I—uh—"

"You didn't listen at all."

He smiles, guilty.

You sigh, "I'm quite persistent, you see. We're not eating dinner until we both master this knot."

"Wouldn't this wait? I'm not in the mood anymore."

You shake your head and untie the yarn. But just as you're about to quip at his newfound impatience (and how cute he is trying to get the hang of it like a little kid learning origami), Erwin grasps the tool away from your hands and cups your cheeks.

He first lands a chaste peck on your forehead, then the bridge of your nose, then the tip of it, then the two cheeks, and finally, it deepens when he reaches for your mouth.

And because you are indeed a persistent being, you have no idea how shamelessly grateful Erwin was when you did more than just pull him in. He tried to stop himself, after all, for seconds in case it'd do anything better. Maybe you're not in the mood; perhaps you want to see the side of him not knowing better and learning things together. But when his palm glided on your cheek and your eyes widened in response, the tremor in his nerves overpowered the need to ask. 

Perhaps the tremor was gratitude because here he is, not getting any younger, and yet, this is only his first genuine step to face his vulnerability. 

You kiss him back and wrap your arm around his neck to pull him in, albeit quite sure why he's suddenly kissing you like this.

Unlike the previous one, his kisses are full of gentleness, and not a tinge of frustration can be seen. His hands, although huge and hard, slide inside your shirt so softly to feel your bare skin. You withdraw a bit to ask what might be the matter, but quickly forget the question when you see his face. He's blushing as though it's the first time he has kissed like this. His eyes are pretty lidded, lips a bit open, and you realize that although you had seen this expression before, it was for a very brief moment—not immediately after a chaste kissing session. 

He looks at you, quite disappointed for cutting the kiss short again. He grabs you by the ankle until you're sitting on his lap.

"Did something happen?"

He shakes his head, "Saying it out loud would be sappy."

"If you think I'd forgive you for spacing out while I'm—kyah!"

He starts sucking on your neck, "Shut up and don't ruin the moment."

"The what? Hey, don't mark on it. I'm warning you."

Erwin really wants to explain his thoughts. He's sure you'd be glad if you were to know all of this. Even though he could never perceive this as a significant step beyond, he bet you'd be giggling and jumping once you know.

He looks up and tries to explain but realizes how tired he is holding everything in—it took him decades. Erwin addressed it only after loving someone so ardently that he was willing to give up years-long prideful habits—all to love you more. He is exhausted, and your lips are so soft and so near, offering the sheer comfort he needs. It's parted slightly; if his tongue were to slip inside, it would send him into great bliss. Erwin is exhausted right now; perhaps he’d share his thoughts after this overwhelming, trembling warmth subsides.

For now, he at least tries to give a small context, "This is the best birthday I've ever had."

"Y-you think so?!" What have you done? You've been thinking about it for months! How could it happen without you knowing? "We spent the day indoors. We haven't even done anything special yet."

"You'd get quite full of yourself if you knew."

"You're trying to escape for not listening to my crochet blabbers."

"I don't want to get sappy today. Can't we just continue?"

"Well, uh… I really want to know what I did," you avert your gaze away. "I've been at the edge lately, thinking of ways to make you say you got the best birthday today—with me. Now that you finally say it, however…"

Again, it's as if you hit a nail, albeit unsure where and how you did.

"And there you have it. Your answer."

"Huh?" It took you a while to process that. "Because you're with me?"

He nods, albeit in a teasing manner.

"Eek. The sap shudders me."

"That's why I asked if we could just continue where we left off."

"The crocheting, indeed." you tease, but as you're about to reach the tool again, Erwin carries you up in his arms. He doesn't even need to tell you where he'd bring you. The impatient man would straight up lead you to bed to show what he wants.

Instead of scolding him for cutting the lecture off, you sigh and muffle your head in his neck, "You have to thank god it's your birthday today."

"Oh, yes of course," he kisses the crown of your head. "Thank you, dear."

TAGLIST: sorry for causing inconvenience with your notifs, my dears in taglist TT i wasn't planning to publish this tonight but the birthday request activated my brain neurons and said "what if u unload your WIPS and just publish this thing" so yea. sorry. @frenchdyer @watyousayin @collinnmckinley @aeanya @xiaotopia @cadenza-damour @grimistheangerinmystares @rinamars | STORY SUBSCRIPTION FORM

MORE OF SWEET SUBTLETIES SERIES HERE

[sluckythewizard]

BUT IM NOT A WRITER. something strange possessed me to write my first proper fanfic in maybe a decade. be niceys to me but also grill me so i can get stronger. this one is a stupidly self indulgent bit between Soda and Emizel, a day or so after emizel was sired. CW for gore descriptions, but thats about it i think. image below is a snippet of the start. the rest of the whole dang thing will be under the cut. ive never posted fanfic ever in my life. read my tags for secret behind da scenes commentary

"Oh shit… I think hes dead…" It was another night, another patrol, another fight, and another win, for Emizel and Soda.

Under moonlight, under street light, under interwoven wires above, the two stood here in a quiet and damp alleyway. The air was drenched with the smell of a previous rain, and the puddles of said storm remain huddled in corners and pot holes.

One splashed as soda found himself stepping forwards into one. The residual adrenaline of the fight had left his body shaking, his heart still pounding, his wounds still throbbing. They had still won; or more-so, Emizel had won. A particularly nasty blow to the side had Soda reduced to the side lines for most of the fight, left to watch as his newly vampiric comrade had absolutely eviscerated the competition.

Emizel had only been turned a day ago, but it was impossible not to notice how it had changed him. He already acted so goddamn confident, so on top of the world, and this newfound power, newfound speed and strength, only built upon his insane ego.

The Fangs that they encountered here on this night stood no fucking chance. Emizel was too quick, too strong, and he easily chased off the rivals. It was only now, as the final unfortunate opponent had turned to flee, a clean clock in the jaw sent the human tumbling to the ground with a dull thump, and it did not move afterward.

Soda shifts his shoe out of the puddle, the cold seeping into his sock being one of the few things keeping his mind in his body in the moment. Is the guy breathing?

A low laugh bleeds from Emizel as he stretches his arms, licking his sharpened teeth as he stares off in the direction the remaining Fangs went. Soda knew that look on his face, the look of a tiger pondering on its next kill, he knew well that Emizel wanted to chase them.

But the guy on the ground.. It was one punch to the face, and the wicked crack sound that came from it had planted a seeding dread within Sodas chest.

As he steps forward, around the puddle, the resulting sound made Emizels attention click back over to Soda, the snap of his gaze making Soda flinch.

The two lock eyes, and Soda weakly gestures to the limp body on the floor. "The uh.. I think.. Is that guy dead?" He finally asks, having a hard time keeping contact with Emizels intensely red eyes.

Emizel turns his attention to said body, tilting his head as he goes to kick at the thing, turning it over. "Man no way hes dead, I punched him once." He mutters.

"Well, yeah, but his head almost twisted all the way around when you did.." Soda steps up to stand beside Emizel, the two boys standing with their hands in their pockets, down at this unfortunate, limp body.

"Should we hide it?" Soda asks, glancing back over at Emizel, who had.. An odd look on his face. He was clearly pondering something, but Soda could only guess whatever was going on in that brilliant head of his. He knew and trusted that Emizel was smart. If anyone could figure out what to do about this, it would be him.

But the lack of an answer had anxiety chewing at the back of Sodas rib cage, and after a second, he speaks up again, compelled to fill what he perceived as a tense silence. "Like.. I dunno, I've never uh... killed a guy..." He shrugs, prompting Emizel to let out a big sigh.

"He's not dead man, just out fuckin cold." Emizel kneels down next to the body, putting an ear up to its chest, and pondering on that for a moment. An uncertainty twists his expression, as he decides to instead place a hand on the victims throat, checking for a pulse. A moment passes, and seemingly finding nothing, he pulls back.

"Uh... Okay, so he might be dead."

Something about the confirmation from Emizel made a shiver run up Sodas spine. That, or maybe it was just the breeze agitating the cold water in his shoe.

"Huh… Damn.." Was all that Soda could really get to leave his mouth. Which was hardly a splash compared to the torrent that was slowly churning in his head. They just killed a guy. Or, Emizel just killed a guy. And it was so easy. They had to hide the body now, right? That was the usual progression here? Getting caught for murder was way more extreme than getting caught for breaking mailboxes with soda cans. It was so, so disturbingly easy. It really was just one punch. It's not like the Fangs are weak by any means, so just one punch? And this guy is dead? Forever?

Or, perhaps by human means, their rivals were fairly tough. But Emizel was on a whole other level. No mortal could stand up to him now...

"Hey, are you okay?"

The question had pulled Soda back from his head, his gaze flicking back over to Emizel, who was looking up at him with those eerie, piercing red eyes. Soda felt another shiver.

"Uh, ieah man, I'm all good." Soda nods, swallowing down whatever anxiety was bubbling up in his throat.

But Emizel didn't seem satisfied by his answer, standing back up and staring down his human comrade. Soda couldn't meet his eyes, his gaze instead traveling downward, and pausing on Emizels red, cut-up shirt. There was something off about the color, the way it seemed darker in some spots, brighter in others.. Wait, wasn't Emizel wearing a white shirt before all this?

The vampire boy seems to pick up on Sodas expression, following his eyes down to his shirt. "Oh, yeah! While you were on the floor, the knife guy got me a little" He says, a stupidly simple smile on his face. Soda was about to let out a laugh at how unbothered his friend seemed by it, but it gets caught in his throat when Emizel goes to pull his shirt up.

The sound of the bloodied fabric peeling away from skin made Sodas own skin crawl, but that wasn't nearly as bad as the sight of the intense gash running from his collar bone, down to his stomach.

"Oh, fuck dude!" Soda gasps, but Emizel laughs it off. Even despite knowing Emizel well, Soda was still surprised by just how much Emizel could shrug off. "Shit, doesn't that hurt, dude?"

"Oh yeah this fucking hurts!" he says with a laugh, his smile big and toothy and proud as he presents this egregious wound. Swollen and angry, pulsing with a slow heartbeat, and still oozing with thick, dark blood.

The sight of the split flesh, and the glints of bone beneath the dark, dark red all tugged at Sodas gag reflex, and yet he couldn't pull his eyes away. So Emizel's just been walking and talking so normally this whole time with his chest just cleaved wide open? Soda felt just as impressed as he felt horrified.

It wasn't until Emizel reaches down to poke at the abhorrent wound that Soda snaps out of it. Watching his friend press his fingers into the bloodied flesh, and slowly pulling it apart, allowing more ichor to seep from the gash, it was too much to watch at this point.

Soda reaches up to put a hand on Emizels wrist, the vampire boy stopping, and looking up at his friend.

Soda found himself freezing again when he locks eyes with Emizel. He was going to say something now, right? "U-uhm.." Is all he really chokes out, giving Emizels wrist a gentle tug. "D-do you. Uh. I suppose a hospital Isn't a place you can go anymore..?"

Emizel just smirks at that, letting Soda pull his hand away from the wound. "Oh, yeah no, but it's fine. I mean, I don't think it's gonna kill me" He shrugs. It was so, so impressive just how unphased Emizel was by all this. Fuck he's actually so cool.

"Well yeah man but it's like, still a bleeding hole. Like you're soaked in blood dude, I'm pretty sure that even a vampire needs that stuff on like, the inside." Soda rubs the back of his head, still unnerved by the sight of it all. "Vampires have like, super healing, don't they?"

"Oh yeah like, regeneration powers. I know I heal faster sometimes but I dunno how to just, activate it on command.." Emizel hums, his eyes narrowing down at his own injury, as if trying to will it into mending. Soda looks away, unable to watch that vile gash ooze any longer.

"I dunno man, how do they do it in like, video games?" Soda tosses the question out, trying to click together some sort of solution in his own head.

"Uhhh.. Huh, video games.." Emizel repeats to himself, chewing on the thought while idly poking at the laceration; until an idea audibly flickers to life in his head. "Oh, I just gotta refill my blood meter. Or whatever."

"Oooh yeah, blood meter!" Soda perks up, "Of course, see this is why you're the brains, man" Soda smiles, glancing back over to his cool friend, but immediately needing to look away again when the sight of that egregious gash tugs bile back into his throat.

While Soda averts his eyes, Emizels eyes wander back over to the body, and that classic 'Emizel has a bad idea' smile creeps across his face.

"Well, if this guys dead, I'm sure he's not gonna need all that blood.." He grins, kneeling down next to the body again.

The word 'wait' had hardly gotten the chance to crawl from Sodas mouth, before Emizel lifts up the arm of the unfortunate body, pulling the sleeve back, and immediately sinking his teeth into the exposed wrist.

The sound and the sight of blood gushing around Emizels teeth made Soda cringe, his hand impulsively coming up to aide his own wrist. An empathetic phantom pain made his wrist ache, his imagination simulating the feeling of shark teeth cutting into skin, sinking deep into the flesh, and clacking against bone. That was a lot of blood, that was streaming down the arm of this fodder.

A low growl bleeds from Emizel as he adjusts his teeth, cutting into more flesh, opening the wound further, and allowing a pulsing torrent of red to stream down his chin, onto his coat. It was an annoying thing, to clean blood out of clothing. Most of the Demons deemed it easier to just let the stains remain. But the night that Emizels throat was torn open, and liters upon liters were granted freedom from his human form, the unbelievable mess had practically changed half the color of Emizels iconic coat.

That was the first time Soda had ever seen that much blood from one person. And well. This would probably be the second.

The sight was unnerving, but it was impossible to look away. The alley was quiet, save for the distant bustle of a distant city, which made the noisy squish and squelch of teeth gnawing on flesh all the more apparent and nauseating.

Emizel had become a monster for sure, and watching it feed on something was… thrilling, in a way. It reminded Soda of feeding a pet spider, or lizard. A mouse for a snake.

It's a heavy thing to witness, the end of a human life. The fear of death is a primal thing, and Soda was no different from any other living thing. He figured everyone else feared death just as much as he does. Well, maybe except for Emizel, of course.

It made sense. Emizel was such a cocky and noisy kind of guy, but hes always had the power to back it up. Even when he lost, or seemed at his lowest, Soda still saw this sort of fire in him, one that Soda admired.

Of course Emizel would be the one to become something like a vampire. Something that Soda had always figured was just a fantasy creature thing. He wondered; if vampires were real, what else was real? Werewolves? Zombies? Unicorns? Are there real demons? Like from hell? Is hell real? Is he going to hell?

The sudden ttteeeeaaaaarrrr of flesh rips soda from his wandering thoughts. Emizel was tugging his head away from the arm of his kill, his teeth clamped down into the chewed meat, and pulling it apart. Soda had seldom seen so much of the inside of a human arm, and the sight of spilling threads and squirming veins was hardly something he ever wanted to stomach again.

"Oh fuck, dude, hey-" Soda steps forward, raising a hand, but the way Emizel snaps his head back over to him, twisting to an unnatural degree, Soda cant help jolting back.

Reddened teeth glint menacingly in the low light, a threatening growl thundering from its clenched, dripping jaws. Emizels eyes were focused, yet wild, glowing with whatever light they could reflect.

Sodas eyes were wide, and his body was frozen in the thick, electric tension within the air. It was like staring down an angry dog.. Suddenly a light bulb in his head flickers to life. It was kind of like an angry dog, right? One hunched over a meal it didn't want to give up. Memories of old encounters and unfortunate dog bites resurface in Sodas head, and with that experience, and with those lessons learned, he gathers the courage to react.

He shuts his eyes, keeping them closed for a few seconds, as he slowly pulls back his arm, and slowly steps back. It was an eye contact thing, wasn't it? Eye contact makes dogs angry, right? That was how you dealt with an angry dog? As he pulls back, and takes in a breath for composure, he finally dares to peek at the angry vampire before him again.

Its snarling had died down, but its eyes were still trained intently on Soda. After a tense, and agonizingly, slow pause... It blinks back, lowering its head back down to its meal, but keeping its anxious stare on this potential threat.

A relieved sigh falls from soda as the tension finally melts. He didnt realize he was holding in so much of his breath. "O-okay, man.. It's yours, you uh.. Earned it.." Soda mutters, stepping back further, until he was standing in a sufficiently dry enough space to sit down in. Now that he wasn't standing, he was finally taking into mind just how much his hands were shaking.

It's odd. Soda couldn't really describe this feeling thrumming in his chest as something like fear.. Nausea? For sure. Disturbed and rattled? Oh absolutely. This was certainly a sight he would have a hard time scrubbing from his eyelids when he sleeps tonight. But he wasn't scared. The memory of the night that Emizel was sired still coated the inside of his mind like an unwashable film. Even in that moment, when the unnatural teeth from the unnatural maw of an unnatural thing hovered over his throat, he couldn't say with confidence that he was scared.

Emizel really is his best friend in the world. And he knows with his whole heart that Emizel feels the same. He knew and trusted that his best friend would never hurt him. Not too badly at least. He loves Emizel, and would give anything to support him.

Like a mouse to a snake.

This really is an incredible power that his comrade had come across, and Soda especially felt a sort of pride in his friend. He felt it was worth it to help him feed it.

The bile in his throat had made its point, and Soda agreed, that watching someone die, and get torn apart and drained might be too much for him. Despite how much he hated the Fangs, the end of any human life seemed like such a jarring thing. To have such an intense fear finally get confronted. Would he go to hell?

Maybe he couldn't just feed people to his friend. So an alternative could be donated blood, right? Soda wouldn't mind giving up something like blood. His body makes it for free, after all. Maybe some other Demons would agree to give up some blood too. But they shouldn't have to take on such a burden. Soda wouldn't mind being the only one. The only one. The only one.

His hand comes up to rub at his neck, as his imagination conjures up what it might feel like to have teeth sink into his flesh. He's been stabbed before, is that sort of what it would feel like? Would he have to get stitches? He didn't really want to get stitches, so maybe there could be a more effective way to get the blood out of him. And there was so much vital stuff in his neck too. There's' a vein that's safe to cut into somewhere, right? He would have to look that up later.

A STARTLING RINGING;

Splits the moment,

Prompting both Soda and Emizel to jolt in shock,

As the phone in Emizels pocket rings away.

Acting as if nothing abnormal had taken place, Emizel pulls out his phone, and answers it.

"Heyy, Johnny! Yeah we chased em off, I don't think those bastards will be infesting this street again anytime soon. Yeah, ieah we'll be heading back soon. Oh fuck yeah dude, save us some!"

Emizel covers the speaker of his Nokia, turning back to Soda with a big smile on his violently bloodied face. "They got some pizza waiting for us back home, dude!" he whispers out to him.

Soda does his best to crack a smile, and to suppress the look of unease that probably stained his face, as he stares at the literal murder scene that's been splattered about in front of him.

"Oh, yeah, hell yeah man.." He swallows down the bile again. "What kind of uh.. Soda did they get?"

Emizel ponders that, before turning back to the phone to ask Sodas question.

"Sprite and a big pack of that one strawberry mountain dew" Emizel tosses the answer back over to Soda, who gives a nod, and thumbs up.

Mountain dew is so neat, Soda really liked all the wacky flavors those guys come up with. The thought of going home and opening a can of soda was certainly a comfort. After witnessing all this blood and gore and viscera, Soda absolutely needed to get back home and get a nice cold glass of something bright red .

As Sodas mind wanders off to soda, Emizel wraps up the conversation on the phone, before hanging up, and standing up.

The movement had pulled Sodas mind back into the moment, enough for him to timidly voice a concern he's had since the start of this debacle.

"Uh, hey, so.. The body, should we… Uh.." He gestures vaguely to it, and Emizel grants it a nonchalant glance.

"Eh, I can toss it into a dumpster or something, I dunno. I'm sure its fine. I'll handle it."

The vampire boy goes to pick up the corpse, the wound in its mangled arm no longer even dripping with blood, the flesh pale from the absolute absence of red in its veins.

"Go ahead and meet me by that one mailbox, the one with the bullet hole in it." Emizel casually instructs, tossing the drained body over his shoulder. "I'll catch up."

"Uh, yeah, okay.." Soda musters up a nod, and the strength to rise back up to his feet, wincing as that bruise on his side makes itself loudly known again. He still felt anxious, but even despite it all, he knew he could trust Emizel to take care of things. He always does. "Just stay safe man, I'll see you there." Soda assures with a smile, and Emizel matches it, tossing him a wink. And then suddenly- -He's gone! If Soda had blinked he would've missed it, but he was fortunate enough to just barely catch the glimpse of Emizel darting off at an inhuman speed, probably looking for a place to dump the body. Right, he would take care of it. Emizel always makes sure his crew is taken care of. Well... Guess all that's left for Soda is for him to walk back to that meeting spot. He looks around the alley for a moment, taking in the sight of that enormous pool of blood in the middle of the concrete. Or whatever the floor of this alley is made from. He ponders on the present moment a little longer than he meant to, the shock of it all leaving him aimless for just a few, soothing moments of just, decompression. The night is quiet, vast, and cold, but the stresses of just the past 5 hours had left his body radiating with fiery aches and pains, so the chill of the occasional clawing breeze was welcomed. Except for when said breeze agitated the cold water still soaked into his sock. He should step in another puddle on his way back to even it out. The smell of rain still rested heavy in the air, heralding another storm on the horizon. There was that, and then, well, there was also the blood. The stench of it felt far too intense to just ignore it, the metallic miasma making itself maliciously unmistakable. Maybe the impending storm will wash this mess away... He looked forward to putting this unfortunate night behind him. With one last rattled, but deep breath, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, and turns away, strolling back over to the mailbox that Emizel had described.

He couldn't wait to get home and drink some soda with his friends.

[writingforfishes]

Hicvember: Throat

Gonna just write this wee hiclet in the post instead of a word processor.

Otto's hiccups cause a lot of neck movement, so he gets to be the hiccuper again. (Surprising, I know!)

CW:

body self-inspection

alluding to having been pleasured previous to story starting

alluding to a longer hiccup case than normal

mild pain from hiccuping, but nothing irregular

cutesy wootsey couple time

kisses!

neck focus (obviously)

Otto being the whole package when it comes to hiccups apparently

Atticus snorted in amusement as they walked out of the bathroom in their sleep shorts after a shower.

"What are you doing?" they asked with some humor as they patted their hair dry with the towel before tossing in the laundry hamper.

They both had just enjoyed another one of Otto's night hiccups fits. The case was hanging on after the fact. Otto and Atty had showered together (The writer had the joy of listening to his hiccups reverb in the restroom's acoustics).

Otto had taken a handheld mirror with him as he laid down, still shirtless, on the bed. He was holding it up with a look of concentration. His stomach still spasmed stubbornly, but he didn't seem too bothered with it. He was distracted.

"I'm hi'uck! watching my n--neck. Ulp!" he explained.

"Oh..." Atticus replied a little sheepishly. They found themselves smiling shyly even though Otto wasn't looking.

"I can--I can see everything hi'ulp! my body do-uck!-does exce-hept! my neck," he explained as casually as if he were explaining how the trains of a chiming clock worked in tandem to sync the time with the strikes and chimes.

Atticus sat next to Otto's reclined form on the edge of the bed. There they could see his body from above as he tilted his head up and down examining his neck's reflection in the mirror at every hiccup which sent his head back into the pillow he was on or his chin tucking in with a stronger spasm.

Atty put their hand on his chest and Otto instinctually covered it with his briefly in acknowledgement before reclaiming his hand to put at the base of where his clavicle bones met and formed the hollow that usually punched in when a hiccup happened.

When Otto hiccuped it was more than just a hollow, though. His hiccups sucked in not only the thin tissue of that part of his neck but around the tendons of his neck as well. Each hiccup pulled against the top of his collar bone making an indent across the base of his neck in addition to the hollow.

The clock makers neck was wide, too. The surface area his hiccups distorted was made even more impressive by the wideness. The bands in his neck suddenly appeared and disappeared with each hiccup. It was hypnotic in a way. At least Atticus thought so.

"Goes i--in deeper hi'ip! when I mmk! I hold them hulp! them in!" he commented. If I hip!hip'k!huck'nk!-uh, if I open my m-ou-th more hmp! it doesn't um hulp! doesn't go in as much. Hmk!"

"That's true," Atticus commented as they still sat next to him. They were rubbing his belly now. He'd had them for a while. Longer than average, at least.

"Is it hu'uck!up!-uh, normal for it t-hmp!-to go in that much?" he asked finally glancing up at his spouse.

"Um...well...I think so. But, man, you have some of the most reactive body movements I've ever seen for...hiccups." Atty said trying to ignore Otto's smile at their stutter. "Your neck, belly, even chest...I dunno if it's just because I'm seeing it in person and not over a bad quality video, but your body just...dude...it's so...hot. Ahem."

Otto was all-out grinning now, which was just rude.

"It ma-ik!-akes sense in--a--a way. Mm," he put a hand on his chest at those silent but harder hiccups. He finally lowered the mirror too. His arm was getting tired.

"What does?" Atticus said as they continued their ministrations on his trampolining belly.

"The first thing hup! that starts t-himpk!-to hurt when--when I have them bad? My thr-hock!-throat! Hu'UCK!" he said and then sighed after the last hiccup with a wincing swallow.

"Hm. I didn't know that. But now that you mention it, you have said your throat hurts. Or your neck. When they're faster you complain about your belly and back, though," Atticus said.

The writer rubbed his chest then and put a hand on his face at his jaw, rubbing a thumb along his short cut beard as Otto nodded thoughtfully at the observation. He looked like he was going to say something when a cluster of hiccups hit him and he drew in a hiss of breath as they ended, swallowing hard again.

"Apple cider vinegar and a glass of water?" they asked.

Otto smiled and nodded.

"Hey," Otto said before they walked away. They held lightly to their forearm. "Can I hu'uck! can I kiss you hulmpk! o--on the lips? Just a hup! a peck?"

Atticus smiled; eyes soft.

"Yup," they said.

They leaned down and the two of them touched lips softly. Atticus' bottom lip and mustache touched into the softness of Otto's larger lips. There was a click of the peck. And then, licking their lips, Atty bent down and kissed him again, barely getting to but chasing his lips when his head jolted with another hiccup.

"Ooh. I got an he'uck! extra one. Hmpk!" Otto said as he grinned.

"Cause you're so cute," Atty said, cheeks dimpling slightly with the smile.

As Atticus walked away, taking Otto's mirror to put it back into the bathroom they heard him say, "Ooh, they ca-aw-lled me cute! Hilp!"

Then he sighed happily, dramatically, the effect a little ruined by the squawking hiccup it inspired.

"Yep," Atticus said, nearly out the door, "You remain my favorite squeaky toy!"

They then zipped out before he could retort.

"I knew there was ha'ulp!hup! a catch!" he said to himself with a chuckle and shaking his head.

He heard a giggle, and he grinned all the more.

[sheisaquarius-blog]

hi! so I was re reading your fic reflection and noticed that it shows there will be 2 chapters 👀 are you adding another one? if so I'm super excited because I love this fic so much!!

ah!! you caught that!! also, wow, you reread it? thank you so much! yes, i've been working on a second part to it for a couple months now. admittedly, i'm stuck, but i'm trying to work through 😵‍💫. i thought it'd be fun to write a companion/follow up, so chapter two is going to be a little bit of a different flavor, but still angsty smut with a little twist. nice catch! here's a little preview (unedited, so subject to change once i actually publish it), hopefully you enjoy it, and it'll motivate me to keep going! (nothing explicit in action yet, but an nsfw discussion under the cut)

Ian raised an eyebrow. “I don’t have an exhibition kink or whatever,” he said dryly.

Anthony rolled his eyes. He was leaned against the wall of his bedroom, loose shorts and a t-shirt thrown on to avoid the post-coital chill of cooling sweat. He handed Ian one of the glasses of water in his hand, which Ian took, sitting on the edge of Anthony’s bed. 

“It’s not exhibitionism, I don’t want to do it in public or get watched by a stranger,” Anthony said.

Ian wasn’t so sure he believed that, even without the suspicious way Anthony shifted his weight and crossed one leg over the other as he leaned back against the wall, but he didn’t say anything.

“I’m not asking you that. I want to film it for us.”

Ian wasn’t sure exactly what ‘us’ Anthony was even talking about, considering the closest word he could use to describe them nowadays was fuckbuddies. Without the buddies. Fucknothings. “You know what a catastrophically bad idea that could be, right?” he said instead.

Anthony’s face twitched with annoyance, but Ian saw the undercurrent of hurt there. “You either think I’m incredibly stupid, or that I’d share. . .” Anthony didn’t finish the thought, pressing his lips together and swallowing hard.

“No,” Ian said quickly. Maybe too quickly. “No, I don’t think any of that. I just mean, what if someone gets a hold of it? What if someone, I dunno, hacks you or whatever.”

“I'm not reckless or stupid about this kind of thing,” Anthony said.

Ian chewed the inside of his cheek. It wasn’t like he hadn’t sent sexts in the past, to Anthony or otherwise. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, nothing cruel or terrible, but definitely explicit, which was risky for someone of public interest. Logically, there was nothing wrong with recording themselves, but it felt riskier with Anthony. “But it’s . . . I mean, if it gets out . . . it’s us, Anthony. You know how that’ll go.” Something in his body pinched at the word ‘us’ this time. He wondered if it was as hard for Anthony to say as it was for him. It made it sound like they were something—something in a way that mattered. And they weren’t.

Anthony sighed and shook his head. He looked surprisingly defeated. “Look, I’m not gonna ask you to do anything you don’t want to, I just wanted to know if you’d consider it. We did your mirror thing,” Anthony waved his hand vaguely towards the mirror, which he had moved into his bedroom after just the second time Ian had fucked him in front of it. “More than a few times. I just figured I’d ask.”

There was something in that sentence that made Ian’s brain itch. Anthony was asking him for something risky, something vulnerable. Ian had to know whether Anthony was asking him because he wanted it or because he wanted Ian.

“If I say no—if,” he emphasized, at the look of disappointment creeping over Anthony’s face already. “Are you going to ask someone else?”

Disappointment faded into something Ian couldn’t read as easily. “Would that matter?”

[29daffodils]

Ik you have a lot of asks from this post, and if you choose not to reply, please feel no pressure to do so

I am by no means a 30yo, nor do i think i have a long enough experience in this fandom to make a huge comment- but i do have experience in being in fandoms that ship very real people and have dealt with that for as long as i remember.

This has basically enabled me to separate most bs from reality when it comes to fanservice. FKT and a very few other ships (or sometimes just one half of the ships) are people with whom i find myself staggered to think whether they should be behaving the way they so-comfortably do, just for the sake of fanservice.

Another thing that I'd add is- directors such as P'Jojo and P'Aof have known and worked with most GMMTV actors in some scope or the other. In FKT's case, it has happened multiple times, and they have essentially seen these two grow up to become the brilliant actors and people they are. These two directors are also known to take a lot of inspiration from life around them, including experiences of friends, family, themselves and ofc the actors who are playing their characters. They have even made characters with specific actors in mind. Which may have lead to Khao's dreams bleeding into Bison's, and we might see the same for other bits of the characters as the show airs.

hi nonnie!

haha yes i do have quite a few asks and honestly, than you (and others) for your insight. I haven't shipped any rpf before last year : accidentally watched kpts and shipped vegaspete so hard and thought “oh bible and biu have a really comfortable relationship with eo” and look how that worked for me lmaoo

i think i still have ptsd from that alone lol, but I'm in general a very cautious and distrustful person, so fanservice — especially the more intimate moments about sharing dreams or spaces and such, i kinda hate it when they turn out to be fabricated. in that sense, it kinda just left a bad taste in my mouth.

but now that i know khao has talked about the whole aurora thing before mentioning it recently, and that the directors do take inspiration from the actors themselves, i think I'm more at ease. it still doesn't feel entirely right to me in terms of storytelling perspective because, if you squint, then kantbison essentially becomes fkt fanfiction lmao, and i am a fanfiction author.

i've only recently realised that this whole thing — being inspired by actors — is pretty common in thailand with BLs, at least a friend told me how kinn's character in kpts is literally drawn from mile.

so yeah. all in all i just hope the story isn't entirely a fkt fanfiction. i have watched bits and pieces of the “get to know your killers” interview and so far kantbison really seem wayyyyyyyy too much like firstkhaotung. which maybe alright for most people, but... i dunno, except for me. i will still love the show and gush about it and the acting, i know. but since I haven't been in rpf for long, sometimes it becomes difficult to separate the truth from what's being fed to us in the name of a CP. and honestly, believing that people share dreams only for them to have fabricated all of that some characters, makes me, as a fan, feel incredibly stupid.

like I don't even ship fkt, neither did i ship biblebiu, but i do value friendships between people a lot, and I'm.. a little sensitive about it , i guess. hahah, my bad.

sorry this got long but you sent a nice ask. thank you again, hope ya have a good day!

edit : whoop, i didn't see that it wasn't anon. I'm sorry. forgive this old blind woman.

[book-of-legends]

( @gholdengodaily ) Mac @ Sirius: "Sorry for the intrusion, couldn't help but over hear your talk about this 'Universe Gate', stuff and I gotta say, you've got me curious. Why were these universe gates made to begin with? These a new thing 'round here, or've they existed for awhile?"

"It's a pleasure to finally speak of something I've studied so extensively, Well... to someone who's actually interested in it, unlike that butterfly creature." "I enjoy questions, after all, I wanted to become a university professor and I was going to become one, but unfortunately, the stars had other plans for me."

"As for your inquiry, the universe gates are not new. They're very old, older than me, perhaps... even older than my mother, Lunala. That is to say, they're hundreds and thousands of years old." "They were created during the deity war. I believe during that time Lunala and Solgaleo didn't have their own realm yet. They were merely stardust wandering within Xerneas' own Realm. Please do not quote me on that however, I'm an engineer, not a historian. From what I was taught, they were created so Arceus could wage war on the other gods."

"As the story was told to me... Arceus, The Creator and God of All was quite upset their creations began, well... creating. At first, it was The God of Distortions, Arceus's banished kin who upset them. They had created the gods Xerneas and Yveltal to rule the soul realms. But then from there, those two gods further gave life to their own creations, the minor, sub and demi deities that rule us today." "Arceus was isolated in the God Realm at the time, they knew not of this and when they found out it sent them into a rage. Because of those two giving life to new deities, their title was no longer 'The Creator' that belonged to Xerenas and Yveltal. Instead of accepting this, it chose to wage war on the other gods, and well That was the start of the deity war." Journey quickly butted in at the mention of Arceus, "Seer, you're telling it all wrong! That's not what happened!" They huffed. "I should know because I was actually there, unlike your dumb nerd books and mom."

"The Deity War was a dumb war between BOTH the gods and the mortals!! It was the gods and their magic users! Arceus only asked me to create the portals because of that! You know!"

"So they ordered a meeting between the major deities, them, and me of course. Because I'm way more special to them than both the mew and... whatever their name was. I got to watch the whole thing!"

"I think I did too good of a job because after I showed them..."

"Guess they didn't need me anymore..." Journey's smile quickly shifted into an annoyed look. "I dunno why! I was like the best demi-deity any god could ask for! I always did what Arceus told me, I always created what they wanted me to. I was perfect! Ugh." They crossed their arms. "Sometimes I wanna go back to the God Realm, but Lunala said I live here now because... 'Your god didn't actually care about you Journey, Blah blah blah!' Yeah, yeah! Sure. If they didn't care why was I super important to them! Hm!?" Sirius gave the Hoopa a look of pity and concern, they didn't seem to care or notice.

→ Journey appears to hold Arceus in high regards? For some reason?

[ Ask from @gholdengodaily & @borealis-siblings ]

[tideswept]

Hello!!! For the game, perhaps time travel? 👀

never have I ever

Technically no? I've had a few plots in mind, but nothing made it to the writing stage as the scope and potential of it has intimidated me. I feel like I need to have an intimate understanding of the characters and their relationship to successfully pull it off.

As well as a dang good reason for it. It feels like, I dunno, a forbidden indulgence to go into it without a Plan™.

Here's how I'd do it, using the Kingsman idea that probably got the closest to almost making it on paper.

A few months after the end of Kingsman, Eggsy is sent into the past. But far into the past--as in, when Chester was a young agent, perhaps even a trainee.

(I've given some consideration to Chester having held the title of Lancelot originally, which would have, I think, added some delicious flavoring to his rejection of a pleb coming along to possibly take up his title, but I really feel like they would have mentioned that little detail at some point if that were true. Same goes for him having been Galahad. Thus, I arbitrarily decided that it was Lamorak. Though Percival is a close second.)

So Eggsy finds himself weirded out by how much he and Chester have in common as he infiltrates Kingsman. We know from the original Kingsman script and a very clever accent slip-up during his death scene that Chester's background was likely more similar to Eggsy's than Chester ever wanted to admit.

Eggsy's goal may be to save Harry, but he doesn't want to fuck up time too badly, so he has no choice but to play along for a while, only, whoops, now he's being shoved X amount of years into the future (so from the 50s to the 60s) and Chester still remembers him, so he knows Something Is Up about Eggsy, but he cares about Eggsy (friendship? or more? who knows) so he doesn't turn him in. Cue another time jump to the 70s. Eggsy is still trying to evaluate what the best way to handle this is. Kill Chester? Tell him what's going to happen? Ask him to make sure a Harry Hart never gets chosen as a trainee?

But before he can decide, it's the 80s, and despite his best efforts to avoid them meeting, Harry is there. And Eggsy falls head over heels for this Harry, who is so different from the man he knows, but it's still Harry, after all.

Chester, now having left Lamorak behind and being made Arthur, notices and puts two and two together that this is the reason why Eggsy has been coming in and out of his life now for almost forty years. It was never about him, or Kingsman, or anything else that had occurred to him.

... but it still takes until the next time skip (hello 90s) for Eggsy to pull the trigger, so to speak. He has to make a decision now. What to change, and how, in a way that doesn't completely mess up the future? He might have trusted Chester a little the first couple of jumps, but now this is the Chester who was a callous fuck about Lee dying.

Meanwhile, Harry is hurt and furious and confused that Eggsy vanished and Arthur (nee whatever his original title was) seemed to know exactly what happened and only infuriatingly told him to be patient and wait.

(And that's another oof for Eggsy -- has he already changed things too much? Harry in the future will recognize him, won't he?)

Eggsy makes the difficult choice to kill Arthur, but Chester talks him down from that, and asks him the real story of what's been happening, pointing out that he's kept Eggsy's secret for fifty years; if that's not a sign that he can be trusted, well...

Eggsy decides to gamble it all on this Chester not being a complete bastard and tells him an edited version of the story (mostly withholding specific names and dates). Not just what happened in Kingsman, but also how fucking stupid Valentine's plan actually was, and the disasters that it caused even when it didn't fully go through. How close the world came to nuclear fallout.

Eggsy then is propped to 21st century, but he stays under the radar for this final visit to the past, not wanting to meddle further with time. At least as far as Kingsman is concerned.

(Dean, on the other hand, gets a very scary visit from a man that promises to slit his throat if he ever lays a finger on his wife and stepson again. )

When he's finally returned to the present, nothing has changed. Fuck. Fuck. He shouldn't have trusted Chester. Or maybe it was all futile to begin with. As far as he can check, everything played out almost the same way, which means that maybe time just can't truly be changed.

Some time passes. And then he receives a message. From an account named Lamorak, asking to meet in a location that only Eggsy and Chester knew about. Eggsy shows up armed to the teeth, not sure what to expect, but sure as hell not expecting to find Chester and Harry alive.

Both of them had put together what they'd both been told (intentionally or unintentionally) by Eggsy and come up with a plan. They'd play out events to the best of their ability, aware that the Eggsy they'd one day meet was not the same that they'd already met--with some insurance. There was never a poison in Eggsy's drink, it was always a drug so that Arthur could pretend to be dead. Harry didn't get shot in the head, he grabbed Valentine's hand and got shot in the heart instead.

You know. Supposedly.

They've both been lying in wait, unsure of exactly when Eggsy went back into the past, and taking the chance that enough time (ba dum tish) has passed and it's safe to come out. They've come up with an excuse for Harry to still be alive and have the trail of paperwork to back it up, but Chester is done. He's not coming back. He's fine with being known as a traitor. It was about time that Kingsman had a good shake up, anyway.

Low-key bittersweet parting, with lots of hugs (Eggsy insists because it's a long-running joke that Chester finds hugs insufferably twee and ridiculous) and Chester disappearing, and Harry and Eggsy getting their happily ever after.

we do not accept Kingsman 2 in this household, thank you.

[aita-blorbos]

AWTA for sending a "product" unsolicited to a customer?

Hey there, how's everyone doing tonight? Or today, I dunno when people are gonna see this. I've been here before, I'm the OP of the "not cutting off a moocher" post. For a refresher, I(adult, M) work for a monster distribution company, and I constantly deal with D. (adult, M) He's annoying and a complete deadbeat when it comes to payments. However, it's super entertaining to watch him fail to deal with K,(child, M) so my boss, N(old old, M. Don't tell him I called him old.) will usually let it slide.

Now, we can get into what this post is actually about.

A day or so ago, I sent D something out of the blue. Didn't consult him, he didn't order them, it was completely unprompted. See, we have this... plan to deal with K, we being the whole company, but specifically N and me. Earlier that day, I got an order from N to ask D and his assistant E(adult, M) about K's main mode of transport, which is this weird little star thing. Well, it was more like I was told to tell D and E about it, and get them to figure out a way to stop it from reaching K. In typical D and E fashion, they were taking way too long, so my boss and I decided to take matters into our own hands, and sent some of our more combat-oriented workers down to go and deal with them.

Now, obviously, D and E weren't too happy about this, but when I explained that said workers were there to deal with K, their tunes changed real quick, and they were on our side.

Issue is, D's "kingdom" (in quotes because really, it's just a small village) got destroyed in the crossfire. I don't entirely care, but it made the whole operation a lot messier than it needed to be. (Seriously though, all this over some stupid pink kid? I get he's really strong, but he's like, 3. Whatever, I'm just here to take orders. |) We did shoot down K's star thingy in the process though, which was good! Mainly for N and I, since we're banking hard on this kid's downfall. (For whatever reason.)

I'm pretty sure D and E are mad over the collateral damage done to their home, but I don't really care. They're absolute idiots and complete assholes themselves, I just wanna see how my boss and I gauge compared to them.

So, AWTA?

EDIT; THOSE JACKASSES BLEW OUR WHOLE FUCKING BASE UP!!!!! THE KID KILLED MY BOSS AND THEN THEY LEFT ME TO DIE IN THERE THE SONS OF BITCHES!!!!! I GOT OUT BUT WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!

[alphagodith]

EEEEE I FINALLY HAVE MATCHING WIZGATO OTEDAMAS EEEEEE

(fun acquisition tale and bonus pic below)

okay so i started my wizardmon collection a year or two ago, and at the time there were no open listings for this rare stackable tsum-tsum loaf plushie/digi-digi otedama beanbag thing ANYWHERE. so i thought i was out of luck. i got the regular plushie of him but i was really bummed i missed out on this one cuz it's sooo cute.

then, just the other day, my friend @peach-artblog asked me if i had a certain golden gacha mini-figurine in my collection (i didn't but now i do), and that prompted me to go back to ebay again. and guess who finally had a listing! so i SLAMMED that buy button as hard and fast and recklessly as i possibly could.

but then i thought, surely there is a matching gatomon one of these, and it would be cruel to separate the two of them, so i went looking for her and ordered her too. but then i kept looking for other wizard things that might have popped up since the last time i searched, and i found a cheaper gatomon on another site, but i had to wait for the one i'd already ordered to let me cancel it, since it apparently had to be approved by the seller since it had been a few hours. (this is important because it resulted in wiz and gato being ordered several days apart)

then a few days after THAT, i discovered that a certain phone charm i had seen plenty of times before and thought was fan-made was actually official! so i HAD to have it for my collection too, of course, and when i went to order it (from a third website), it reminded me of a funky thing with my address that sometimes causes it to get input wrong. so i went back to the other things i had ordered to make sure that hadn't happened, and guess what? it HAD. specifically with the gatomon otedama. so i emailed that seller right away, and they got back to me within MINUTES. apparently they were JUST about to ship it out (a bit later than i had expected too), so it sure was a good thing i got that fixed when i did! and i ONLY caught it because i had been looking at this OTHER purchase. (so very narrowly avoided further delays on gatomon)

so i'm carefully watching the tracking for the wizardmon otedama because i've been wanting it for years, this is the only listing ANYWHERE within that timespan, and our local shipping center has been fumbling things lately so i'm VERY worried about it arriving safely. and then the worst happens. i get a notification that the package has been 'forwarded' due to incorrect handling/labeling. basically the post office screwed up and sent it to the wrong place and it's being sent back. i feel sick. i have my husband call the post office and the first lady he gets is very rude and unhelpful, then he tries again (bless his heart) a few hours later and THIS lady explains that the vague ass forwarding message just means that it's been slightly delayed but it IS still on its way to us, and not to some random wrong address or back to the seller. so we cross our fingers and wait. (so long story short, wizardmon otedama got delayed)

and today, on the expected delivery date for gatomon and and the last day for wizardmon to arrive without me freaking out super hard, the two of them miraculously arrived safely, and together, despite being ordered on different days from different sellers!

and if that ain't magic i dunno what is.

[hn-undercover-9503]

Really, really brief character study for p!Martyn and p!Sausage because it's 4am and my brain won't shut up about pirates okay thanks

Martyn woke from his very fitful sleep to the muffled sound of music coming from downstairs. Confused and somewhat annoyed, he tossed aside the thin yellow blanket in his Kestrels bed. Leaving his room, he could see all of the other doors were open except for one. Grumbling under his breath, he traipsed his way down the stairs ready to chew out whoever had decided to play music in the middle of the night.

When he made it though, he stopped short at the sight of Sausage sitting alone at the barstools. A jukebox across the room was playing some sea shanty, but the man at the bar didn't seem to be listening to it. He was hunched over a half-empty mug with his eyes closed. As Martyn slowly made his way over, he was almost convinced the other man was asleep, had it not been for the way his hand was clenched tightly around the mug handle.

"Uh…Sausage?"

The other man shrieked and jumped, eyes flying wide open and sloshing ale over the floor. He whined at the sight of it, grumbling as he stood to get a mop from the corner. "Look what you made me do, Martyn! Now the floor is all wet…"

"Ah, my bad." Martyn took the mop and quickly helped clean up the mess. It only took a few minutes, and once they were done both of them sat down at the bar again. Sausage let out a heavy sigh, resting his head on the table.

"So, uh…what are you doing awake so late?" Martyn finally asked. Sausage hummed before lifting his head and grinning.

"Drinking myself silly, of course! Isn't it obvious?" He giggled again after saying it, but Martyn could hear the insecurity in his voice.

He raised an eyebrow, staring at him as the music faded out only to restart the same song.

"Don't look at me like that! What, you think I'm lying? Why would I lie?" Sausage demanded, oddly defensive considering Martyn hadn't actually said a word to him.

Martyn shrugged. "I dunno, just seems to me like there's something on your mind."

"The only thing on my mind is coin and ale." Sausage said with a huff, crossing his arms like that sealed the deal. Martyn hummed, getting up to pour two more mugs for them both.

They sat in silence for a while, nothing but the music in the background between them. After Sausage had drained about half of his mug, though, he leaned back in his seat and sighed. "Hey, Martyn. Where did you come from?"

Martyn hesitated for a second. He couldn't exactly tell him he fell from the sky after going through Doc's new strange portal. "I, uh, dunno. Some island nearby. Washed up on shore a few days ago, and now I'm here. You know how it is."

Thankfully, Sausage didn't seem to be in the mood to press him for information. He just hummed, staring up at the ceiling. Mihawk the macaw was sleeping in the nearby windowsill, and Sausage seemed to be watching him very carefully. "I've been on the Isles for a long time, you know."

Martyn nodded, tracing the rim of his mug with a finger. "I kinda assumed."

"I'm not the only one though. Kyle's been here a while, too. And Scott! Oh boy, he's been here since he was just a little bitty baby! But you know, you get to know people when you're here for a while. I have some good friends."

Martyn hummed, unsure where the other man was going with this. But Sausage didn't even seem to realize he was there anymore. He was just talking to the ceiling at this point. "The other day…at that weird island the recruiter sent us to…"

Martyn let out a small, unintelligible, "Oh." That whole incident had been…strange. And eerie. And creepy. And he still hated knowing that that weird little purple thing was running over the Isles somewhere, completely free. He didn't know why the others were letting it go after what they'd seen. If it had been up to him, he'd have tied an anchor to it and dropped it into the sea as soon as it appeared on the Isles.

"I never really talked to Aimsey all that much. They seemed nice, but I mean, they are a Kite, and you know how it is with them…but she'd come over and talk to Guqqie a lot, and the two of them were so close. And Guqqie…" Sausage's voice became very, very small.

Martyn felt awful. Of course, Sausage was worried about his friend. The other Kestrel, Guqqie. Martyn hadn't exactly been fond of her for the little amount of time they'd spoken, but she was a Kestrel, so it made sense that she was probably decently close with Sausage, right? It only made sense he'd be worried about them.

"I…don't know what happened to Aimsey." Martyn murmured, keeping his voice low. Out of respect? He didn't know. Truth was, he didn't really know anything about anything about this place, but he had a feeling he was about to get wrapped up in something very, very bad here. "But didn't those people say they wanted Guqqie for a job? So she'll come back with money, right?"

Sausage shook his head. "That's just it. If it was just a job, she should've been back by now. Something's not right with this. And what if…what if they're actually…gone?"

Martyn's stomach sank. "Gone…gone, as in, like, dead? Dead gone?"

Sausage took a deep breath. "I…I don't know. I'm just…just…" He put his face in his hands and groaned, scrubbing at his face furiously. When he raised his head again, his eyes were red and the fake smile had returned. "Oh, but I'm probably worried over nothing! Aimsey probably just got lost fighting a whole bunch of slimy purple monsters, and Guqqie is probably just so overloaded with coin they have to take more than one trip! Both of them are fine, I'm sure!"

Martyn watched the other man stand up and down the rest of his mug in one big gulp. He giggled as he slid the empty mug across the counter to him. "Don't stay up too late drinking, Martyn! We got another big day of pirating tomorrow! Goodnight!" He watched with narrowed eyes as Sausage practically ran back up the stairs.

In the background, the jukebox began to skip. Martyn got up to take the disc out before it could really start getting under his skin. He set it on the rack alongside the other discs they had, then glanced up at the stairs leading to the upper floor of the Kestrels home. Sausage had clearly been genuinely really worried over the two missing pirates, Aimsey and Guqqie. Martyn had only been here for a few days, and already he knew–this was going to be a difficult one.

[dragonmasterhiccup]

“Oh, no, it’s fine! He uh, he actually only said a month and a half at first, but y’know.” She shrugged. “It’s a big favor, at least in my eyes, and I’ve come to actually like working in the forge, except for how hot it is, that I’ll never enjoy.”

Her eyebrow raised and she spoke with uncertainty. “Really? Tomorrow night? That soon? I mean, yeah of course, I’m just surprised you’re free.” A mischievous glint made its way to her eyes. “Are you sure you want to do it that soon? You’re probably gonna need some time to prepare, you know…”

“Well, no duh, Mom told you that regular sleep would basically get thrown out the window, didn’t she? And hey, I don’t mean to be rude, but I can tell that she’s keeping you up at night. Those eye bags could be seen from the other side of the island, for Thors sake.”

Her eyes shot wide, and she held a hand out to stop him. “Woah, woah, woah, Spitelout?! The guy who literally tried to kill me? The guy who is probably the worst person to ever set foot on this island? Him? He cracked a smile? What?!” She shook her head. “You know what? Thanks for the info, now I just have to go wipe that smile off his face.”

She shrugged lightly. “Nah, I don’t think it matters either way, even if she wasn’t your baby, she’d still be adorable.”

She chuckled. “Eh, you gotta start ‘em young, get her used to the never ending attention that she’s probably getting. She’ll be tired for a while, but I can say from experience.” She placed a hand on her chest. “She’ll get used to it,” she said, her voice playful and sarcastic as ever.

She smirked. “Well that’s good, because I was planning on tagging along anyways.” Sighing, she nodded before continuing, “Yeah, I know, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss spending time with you. And it’s like, I’m obviously not expecting to see you every second of every day, that would be weird, and I would go crazy, you know I can only tolerate your honking goose voice for so long, its just… I dunno, you have a family now, I get that, Zephyr’s amazing, and you and Astrid are busy with her, and I’m not trying to push myself into everything, again, that would be weird, and I have my own things I need to push myself into.” She let out a breathy chuckle. “I… it just feels like these past couple of months, we’ve barely spent any real time together… I, I’m sorry, I know it sounds selfish, but it’s just how I feel, I guess.”

"It won't be so bad in the winter, at least. Grump hasn't been giving you any trouble, has he?" He was mainly asking as a joke, knowing full well the Hotburple loved Danny.

Shaking his head, he grinned mischievously. "No, no, we can't wait too long, otherwise we might forget! No, the sooner the better! Besides, Astrid mentioned having you come by again soon, just to visit."

Running a hand through his hair, he asked, "Really? Is it that bad?" Forgetting Toothless wasn't with him, he went to turn to his friend. "Bud? You--oh, right." He shrugged. "I'll have to find some time to get a little extra rest, if I look as bad as you say, Gothi might whack me upside the head for not taking care of myself again."

"No need! I sent him off island to check on the tribes storehouse. He'll be gone for a week, I think. Snotlout went with him."

Laughing, he asked, "Oh, will she? You really think so?" Wrapping his arms around Zephyr, he gave a small nod. "She'll be taking on the role of Chieftess when she's old enough, so I'll have her with me a lot when I work, I think."

As they walked, his face fell hearing Danny's words.

Although, his expression briefly changed to mild offense when she said 'honking goose voice'.

"No, you're right. I've been a little busier than usual...things have changed a lot, haven't they?" Nodding, he continued. "I've missed spending time with you, too... and while I do have Astrid and Zephyr now, I'm still your brother, and I'm still here for you if you ever need me. Astrid and I are still adjusting to having Zephyr, so in the meantime, why don't we do this? Why don't all the Haddocks get together and have dinner, as a family, once or twice a week? As a start? And then, once Astrid is cleared for her normal activities again, we can spend some brother/sister time together when we can? Whatever you choose to do, but within reason."