#and it might not have been important to them but it’s important to ME!!!

[vaspider]

Hey spider, I’ve been by your tumblr several times in the last day to help keep myself grounded. I wanted to say thanks and pass along my own thoughts to others checking in.

This fucking sucks and I hate it. But this moment feels very different to me than 2016. Not that I feel *great* about weathering the next four+ years, but, I’m not collapsing in despair either.

Fact is we survived four years of this, we had four years of relative “peace,” and it’s back into the shitstorm. The situation is different, more dire, yes, but we’re also different, too. We survived and we have lessons to glean from that to apply to our future.

Your job, if that frame is helpful for you, is to look at what you can offer your community and start cultivating opportunities to help other people. 

Are you strong? I helped an older gentleman recycle heavy boxes of papers (by heaving them into a dumpster for him) and that lit up my MONTH.

Can you do dishes? There is an elder in your community who could use the help (and the company!).

Do you not go to church, on Sundays or otherwise? There may be a hospice center that needs volunteers to stay with patients while their people are at Sunday services.

Do you have a car and some time? Maybe you can do pickups for food banks or other types of food rescue work.

Do you know spreadsheets? Hoo boy. Everybody needs somebody who can do spreadsheets.

These are ideas of where you might start. But the real work is to cultivate relationships of goodwill and good faith with others in your community. Start talking to organizations, look for people who are already embedded, doing good work. Look for role models, people who connect: people to other people, people to resources. Don’t be afraid to speak up when you need help, yourself – strong relationships are reciprocal. People need each other *so badly,* and in ways our culture does not equip us to understand.

Show up where and when you can and be ready to hold the hands of others. It’s going to be hard, but you can develop the skills and the relationships to make it through.

thanks again, spider.

This is good advice.

One thing I heard today that cracked me up - I was listening to Gianmarco Soresi's podcast today, and he has Brennan Lee Mulligan on this episode. Brennan was talking about how he ran a load of diapers over to Rekha at one point bc she was collecting stuff for LA wildfires aid, and when he got home, his wife, Izzy, was sitting at her computer and going through Zillow and researching rental listings and reporting listings to the authorities who are breaking CA rent control laws. (In CA, there are limits to how much you can raise the rent on a unit at one time/within a certain period of time.)

Like... that's a thing that she could do while she was sitting at her computer being at home with the baby while Brennan ran an errand that did measurable good in the world. Reporting predatory landlords does real, measurable good.

What's important is not that you're doing the most good or the most important good. What's important is that you Find Something To Do That Helps and you Do That Thing.

[emptymanuscript]

I admit I'm on the fence about AI in general... well, on the I have never used it and am not sure if I ever should but I've got the deep fear of missing out side.

But in the context of learning, it strikes me as falling in the same landscape as a calculator or Excel. I use a calculator or (actually more commonly) Excel to do any math because I'm not particularly good at math and never really have been.

BUT

When I was growing up, you did NOT get to use a calculator until you knew how to calculate. This was not a thing to make us suffer or just make life more difficult.

I also had stupid tests where I had to solve 100 math problems in 3 minutes, and I'm not about to argue that was good for me, helped me, or should be inflicted on subsequent generations.

I had to learn how to calculate BECAUSE of the above. If YOU don't know how to calculate, then it is impossible to tell if the calculator gave you the correct answer or not.

Back when I used to post to r/excel, I used to get flack for not showing the "EFFICIENT" way to solve problems but instead would show things step by step. But this is the same thing. If you do things in a big complicated group, you either get the right answer or the wrong answer. If you do things step by step you can CHECK your answer step by step and see if they make sense.

Do I need to know how to do 87^2 in my head in 30 seconds or less? No. I really don't. But I do need to know what is going on and why it is happening.

87^2 = 7,569 is great for a calculator to do. The calculator absolutely can do it faster than most people can. But if I just plug in 87^2 and get 689, how do I verify it? How do I check? Can I even realize, hmmm, that doesn't look quite right. Are my functions all right?

Knowing what is going on is the insurance for that. I can probably catch that, oh, I was trying to use a clever trick and forgot some steps.

The answer isn't all that is important.

And yes, it absolutely can make you dumber. Like I got to hear a discussion between two lecturers I really liked. And one just went off on a tangent and the other was clearly wondering why the hell she was there, this isn't science. BUT because I knew the details of how they were both dealing with the basic problem they were talking about - current science not being able to successfully predict certain phenomenon without numbers to fudge the situation that represent things that can't be proven independently of the need to fudge the numbers - I was able to follow the miscommunication while they, themselves, could not. His tangent made perfect sense in the context of his field of interest and made zero sense in hers. And if all you have the answers with no information of how you got to them, there's zero way to connect "I think the Sun might be conscious" and "I think half of the standard model is based on incorrect assumptions." They were in fact talking about the same things and differing solutions but there's no way to align that without talking about the assumptions, which needs to be laid out in order to UNDERSTAND the answer.

And struggling with my FOMO on writing, there's the basic truth that the reason I fear like I'm missing out is in part because I AM an expert. I have a graduate degree in TEACHING creative writing. I know my shit. So if I ask ChatGPT or whatever to spit out a scene for me, I not only can tell if it is good or bad, I can explain WHY it is good or bad and what needs to be done to improve it. I have zero fear of amateurs asking ChatGPT to spit out a novel for them and getting a novel of quality that I will be competing with. I am scared of people with enough knowledge of how writing works and knowledge of how ChatGPT creating the equivalent situation of me doing long division on paper while they're plugging the equations into a calculator.

A calculator, used as a tool, by someone who understands what they're doing, can do calculations faster and with less errors than someone who also understands what they're doing but isn't using a calculator. But it's not the difference of one being able to do it and another not. It's a difference of speed and accuracy.

It's an entirely different set up when it's someone who understands what they're doing versus someone who doesn't. You can give someone who doesn't know what they're doing all the tools in the world and it will still take them longer and produce an inferior product because they can't understand what they're doing.

And that's the basic problem with using ChatGPT for education. Yes, it can give you an answer. But because you don't know how, you simply have to trust that it is the correct answer. With no way to double check, no way to gauge, and no way to adjust the workflow to better suit your needs.

It absolutely is shooting themselves in the foot. Because school is the point where access to help with process and WHY things work the way to do is easiest to get. It does simply get harder to find the farther away from educational opportunities you get. And when you need it to work isn't the best time to be trying to figure out what you're really doing instead of already having that education and skill under your belt.

It's also relying on the fatal assumption that tomorrow is going to look like yesterday. My earliest datable memory is June 1st 1982. The world is so profoundly different in February 13th 2025, that I am very comfortable promising you that the idea that you can depend on the world looking the same for your entire life WILL get you into trouble because that's simply not the way the world works. Certainly not now. The assumption that it is safe to use ChatGPT now because you will always be able to use ChatGPT is a set up for failure. Will there always be tools? Yes. Will you know how to get future tools to work the same way as ChatGPT? Probably not. I grew up using Dos and then Window's machines. These days, the programs are so different, I find it easier to use a Mac instead of learning the new way that Windows does things.

If you rely on a particular tool solving a problem for you in a way you don't understand beyond that tool giving you the answer, you will be relearning the tool every large iteration. And eventually it will be different enough that it will set you back. That you will essentially be starting from nearly scratch. And then what? If you don't know what kind of answer you should get, how are you going to know if you're using that new tool correctly because some engineer decided that it is more efficient to move in a different direction?

Even novels have changed over the course of my life. Every book I've read that was published in the last 15 years breaks fundamental rules I was taught back in the early 90's. The conventions that I would have insisted that ChatGPT follow have changed. But if I didn't know WHY those conventions existed how would I even know? How would I adjust? Why would it even occur to me that I needed to adjust? ChatGPT sure doesn't know.

That's probably fine if it's just something you're doing for fun.

But if it is your job? Getting things wrong can be the difference between keeping that job and going hungry. It is not a good idea to be utterly dependent on your tools. Tools are to make what you're doing easier, not to do the task for you all together.

Yeah, just don't. The grades are not as important as what you will be able to do (or not be able to do) later in life. And sometimes that later can be a LOT sooner than you anticipate. I watched a LOT of people wash out or nearly wash out of college because they didn't know the whys and hows of what they were doing academically. I saw straight A students flunk out because they just learned the cheat or because their schools were crap and only taught one way to do things or taught nothing at all and just let the cards fall. I had a good friend who came in with a 4.2 GPA and nearly flunk out because she wasn't taught basic skills I had gotten in middle school.

Which was intentional.

Because she was black and poor and I wasn't.

Her schooling was designed to fail her because the best way to make sure someone as smart as her STAYED black and poor was to let her fly without ever teaching her the skills to do better when she needed to. And she was damned smart. And she worked damned hard. And she pulled through and got a master's before I did. But she was in the extreme minority and had a lot of help and still slid through by the skin of her teeth. Most people in her position crashed and burned and ended up WORSE off than they started. Which is great for the powers that be because it makes them a demonstration of why you shouldn't even try. It shows that society is stacked against you. Because it is. Because it is designed to fail.

Understand that ChatGPT is the same set up. It will make things easier. For now. It will give you the answers. It will work. Until it hits the level it can't anymore. And that WILL happen. It is inevitable. And then you have no supports and you ARE going to crash and burn.

There is a reason that ChatGPT is cheap and being forced on everyone. It is controlled by the people who are being served by the current societal structure.

Are you being served? Are you sure? Because if there is ANYTHING about you they can benefit by crushing, washing you out, setting you out to sacrifice, they're going to do it. Anything that is free in our society is a tool to make YOU the product. And they're damn good at doing it. So think long and hard about using that tool when they have so much history and investment in making you crap out for their benefit. Don't rely on them to save you.

I just started grad school this fall after a few years away from school and man I did not realize how dire the AI/LLM situation is in universities now. In the past few weeks:

I chatted with a classmate about how it was going to be a tight timeline on a project for a programming class. He responded "Yeah, at least if we run short on time, we can just ask chatGPT to finish it for us"

One of my professors pulled up chatGPT on the screen to show us how it can sometimes do our homework problems for us and showed how she thanks it after asking it questions "in case it takes over some day."

I asked one of my TAs in a math class to explain how a piece of code he had written worked in an assignment. He looked at it for about 15 seconds then went "I don't know, ask chatGPT"

A student in my math group insisted he was right on an answer to a problem. When I asked where he got that info, he sent me a screenshot of Google gemini giving just blatantly wrong info. He still insisted he was right when I pointed this out and refused to click into any of the actual web pages.

A different student in my math class told me he pays $20 per month for the "computational" version of chatGPT, which he uses for all of his classes and PhD research. The computational version is worth it, he says, because it is wrong "less often". He uses chatGPT for all his homework and can't figure out why he's struggling on exams.

There's a lot more, but it's really making me feel crazy. Even if it was right 100% of the time, why are you paying thousands of dollars to go to school and learn if you're just going to plug everything into a computer whenever you're asked to think??

[gallusrostromegalus]

An AEIWAM Bit:

Kensei Muguruma has a weird phobia of Things That Flap.

He tries very hard to pretend he doesn't, but things flapping in his proximity are extremely startling and make him jittery at best, or hyperventilate and collapse. Something about the fluttering triggers a fear response, and his total inability to ask for help or admit weakness has caused this to balloon into a terrible reactivity to almost anything with flapping wings.

Kensei was was very excited to move back into his digs in the Ninth. So excited that to no longer be living in crummy living world apartments that he has all his stuff moved in an unpacked before Shuuhei and Mashiro had actually gotten out of the hospital after the battle of Fake Karakura. It was the middle of winter, so all the division windows were closed and he didn't really look around outside.

… but the first warm-ish day in February he opened up the windows for some fresh air and screamed when he was suddenly barraged by several dozen songbirds into swooping his office looking for snacks, then becomes howlingly enraged when he realized there's easily a hundred different types of birdfeeder on the wall outside his office that Shuuhei has been dutifully filling in Tousen's Absence.

---

Kaname, over in the 12th: "Why do I feel like I've forgotten something important?"

---

Eight minutes later in the public groupchat:

KMuguruma: @KTousen WHY DO YOU HAVE SO MANY DUCKING BIRD FEEDERS???? KMuguruma:*FUCKING NOT DUCKING GOD HELP ME IF A DUCK FLIES IN HERE KTousen: ah. KTousen: @JUkitake got me into birdwatching in your absence. KMuguruma: BIRDWATCHING??? KTousen: Well, more like bird listening in my case. KMuguruma: WHO NEEDS A HUNDRED BIRDFEEDERS FOR BIRDWATCHING I THOUGHT YOU DID THAT SHIT IN THE WOODS?? KTousen: @JUkitake then got me a new type of bird feeder, bath or house for every subsequent holiday gift exchange. KTousen: It was very generous of him! KMuguruma: IF HE WANTS TO BE GENEROUS HE CAN COME GET THIS GODDAMN EAGLE OR WHATEVER OUT OF MY OFFICE. SHisagi: It's a pigeon sir. KMuguruma: IT'S HUGE AND TRYING TO KILL ME. IMadarame: @KZaraki Boss you gotta see this shit. KMuguruma: IS HE GONNA COME STAB IT?? IMadarame: lol. lmao. KMuguruma: IT'S NOT FUNNY!!! SHisagi: It's also not going to kill you. It's a pigeon. SHisagi: The only reason I haven't caught it yet is you keep screaming and swinging the broom at it every time it lands so I can't grab it. KTousen: It's a surprisingly grounding pass time. It really helped build a connection with the natural world around me that was of great solace during The Fuckery. KTousen: Actually learning something about birds might help with your phobia. KMuguruma: I DO NOT HAVE A PHOBIA!! KMuguruma: BIRDS ARE FUCKED UP AND EVIL AND TRYING TO KILL ME. KZaraki: That's totally true actually. KMuguruma: THANK YOU. KZaraki: I'm coming to kill you specifically in my Capacity as Prince Of All Birds. KMuguruma: what KZaraki: Be there in 10. KMuguruma: no wait what do you mean "prince of all birds"? IMadarame: The Boss is the son of She Who Rules The Sky By The Mandate Of Heaven, AKA The Firebird. IMadarame: 🔥🐦‍🔥🔥 IMadarame: So he's Prince of All Birds. IMadarame: Also, technically an Eagle. KMuguruma: wtf SHisagi: Yeah actually you should get moving he's not kidding about kicking your ass. KMuguruma: WTF?? SHisagi: He takes slurs against his people very seriously. SHisagi: also, if you leave I actually have a shot of catching this pigeon. KTousen: I'll send @MKuna over tomorrow to collect everything. @SHisagi if you can help get them off the wall? SHisagi: Roger that, Captain. KMuguruma: HEY! DON'T CALL HIM CAPTAIN! I'M YOUR CAPTAIN. SHisagi: He's still *a* captain, sir. KTousen: also the bat houses on the water tower. KMuguruma: THE FUCKING WHAT HOUSES??? SHisagi:🫡 KMuguruma: WHAT DID I JUST TELL YOU?? SHisagi: With all due respect Sir, I can see @KZaraki's dust cloud approaching you really should leave before he puts a hole in the building and we have to delay publication while we fix it. KTousen: Bat houses! There's approximately 2,600 rabbit-eared bats living in the old water tower on the roof. RUnohana: They do an excellent job eating mosquitoes over the entire city! Not one case of malaria or dengue fever in decades! RUnohana:💖🦇💖 🚫🦟🚫 KMuguruma: WTF WTF WTF???? SHisagi: @NinthDivision: CODE ORANGE, EVACUATE THE BUILDING AND PREPARE FOR A ZARAKI EVENT. KMuguruma: WTF WHY DOES HE HAVE HIS OWN DISASTER CLASSIFICATION??? SHisagi: You are about to find out! Godspeed Captain, I am evacuating the building. GSYamamoto: 😎👍 RUnohana: Just like the Good Old Days, Sir? GSYamamoto: Just so! SHisagi: I have caught and safely evacuated the pigeon! IMadarame:🥳🙌🙌🙌🥳 KMuguruma: WHY DID I COME BACK HERE???

[atlabeth]

something about her

masterlist

pairing: spencer reid x fem gideon!reader

summary: you’re reminded why you’re really here while spencer does some unwanted self reflection.

a/n: things have been a little too fun and fluffy around these parts so i had to fix it. it’s easy to forget you’re still dealing w a stalker when you’re busy living in denial <3 enjoy the mess! this whole thing is in spencer's pov bc this all got soooo far away from me

title from the song by stephen sanchez

wc: 5.3k

warning(s): things start to ramp up! stalking, anxiety, lowkey panic attacks, angst, hurt/comfort, r almost has a panic attack, alcohol/mentions of alcoholism, the usual. but more bonding!!

Spencer can’t sleep. 

He’s tried every trick in the book. Counting sheep, counting to one hundred, counting to one hundred backwards, going through the alphabet, going through the alphabet backwards, methods with actual scientific research backing them—none of it works. He’s stared at the ceiling for most of the night. 

He feels like a hypocrite most of all, preaching the importance of adequate sleep when he’ll be lucky to get five hours. But it looks like you barely sleep as is. He probably should keep preaching to you. 

There’s a myriad of reasons to explain it. His hyperactive brain has been responsible for many restless nights. He’s still in unfamiliar territory, and he hasn’t gotten used to sleeping on this bed yet. Lest he forget, he’s your first and only line of protection here from your stalker. That’s enough to keep anyone awake, even FBI. 

But then there’s also… you in general. 

Spencer can’t say he tries not to think about you, because this past week it’s felt like the only thing he’s thought about. 

It’s practically impossible, even before you were shoved into this house together. You have a way of tunneling your way into a person’s mind and refusing to leave—especially his. 

Again, it’s easy enough to pass off. You’re the only ones here, and the time you’re not spending alone you’re spending with each other. Your only choice beyond isolation is to talk to Spencer, and it seems you’re slowly moving past preferring it over him. 

But he doesn’t think he can just pass this off.

He can’t get your smile out of his head. Your moments of levity are so few and far between that it makes them shine bright as the sun. Spencer has learned he loves how you look when you’re happy. He just wishes it wasn’t such a rarity.

Gideon’s lecture rings in his ears. He really had two jobs—keep you safe, and don’t fall for you. Hopefully he only fails the one. 

It’s not like he has to worry about it, though. You might not hate him as much anymore, but you still don’t really like him. As much as it bums him out, it’s for the best. It means that in a week or two, when the team has caught the unsub and all this is over, you can both go your separate ways and you’ll never have to see Spencer again. 

That bums him out even more, though. 

He lets out a long sigh. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised. JJ, Elle, now you—Morgan would say he really knew how to pick ‘em. Girls who didn’t like him back. 

Just then his phone rings, jolting him out what could have been a convincing play for sleep if not for his thoughts, and he groans a little. Spencer fumbles around for it without lifting his head from the pillow, only turning slightly so he can flick it open and place it against his ear. 

“Gideon, why are you calling this early?” he mumbles. 

“I hope you’re treating her well.”

The gravelly voice through the speaker is a shock, and Spencer doesn’t really process it. His brain still hasn’t turned on. 

“Gideon?” he asks again. 

“I know you ran away. Trying to protect her like you have any right.” 

His blood goes cold as the words finally register. 

This is their unsub. This— this is your stalker. 

“What do you want?” he asks, unable to keep the sharp edge out of his words. 

“You’ve hurt her the same way he has,” the voice continues. “He’s ruined our lives and you don’t care.”

Spencer’s mind is simultaneously blank and running wild. He knows he should try to profile him or talk to him to get something out of him but— but all he feels is anger. 

“What do you want?” he repeats, louder this time. 

“Think about your priorities, Agent Reid. I’ll be watching.” 

The disconnected tone blares in his ear before he can say anything else, and Spencer stares down at his phone in confused annoyance. 

What kind of bullshit game is this guy trying to play with you? 

First he stalks you for a month—possibly months— then sends pictures of you to your door, then forces you into hiding and now he’s just mocking you like this? 

If Gideon is the goal, this bastard is doing a great job of dragging you along. 

Spencer’s heart jumps into his throat all of a sudden. You. 

He grabs his gun off his bedside table then lunges to the door with all the athleticism of a newborn baby giraffe, nearly tripping in his haste to get out into the hallway. He slams your door open once he gets to your room, and the relief that floods through his body when you shoot up from your previously sleeping position is almost dangerous. 

“Spencer?” you grumble, still completely out of it as you rub your eyes. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

You’re alive. You’re okay. You’re still here. 

He opens his mouth to respond, still kind of out of breath, when his phone rings again. Spencer takes it out and is already pressing it to his ear. 

“What the hell do you want from her?” he barks. The absolute nerve of your stalker to call back—

“Reid, it’s me.”

It’s Gideon’s voice that comes out of the speaker this time, and Spencer feels the wave of red hot rage boiling in his stomach crash against a wall of confusion. 

“I—” He swallows deeply, his eyes flicking over to your befuddled expression momentarily before he feels himself flush bright red and look away. “I’m so sorry, sir. I thought you were someone else.” 

“You got a call?”

His blood runs cold. “You mean you got one too?”

Gideon curses and he hears him move around. Pacing in his bedroom, if Spencer knew anything about him. “Tell me my daughter is safe.”

“She— she is,” he stammers. “I’m with her right now.”

“Spencer, what the fuck is going on?” You’re sitting up now, much more aware than you were fifteen seconds ago. “Why do you have your gun— why are you talking to my dad?”

“Do a perimeter check,” Gideon demands. “If he’s there—”

“I know.” Spencer looks back at you and sighs. “You should talk to her.”

“I know,” Gideon echoes. “Let her stay on the line with me while you figure things out.”

He nods and takes the phone from his ear. “Gideon wants to talk with you.”

You’re standing up now, a dumbfounded expression on your face. “Hold on, you still haven’t answered me! What is going on?”

“I got a call from our guy,” he says. Your eyes widen and he can see your chest still. His heart clenches at the sight. “Gideon did too.”

“What?” you breathe. “Wh— what did he want?”

“To scare you.” Spencer holds up his gun. “Can you hide in the closet while I do a perimeter check?”

You scoff. Your demeanor is still shaken, but the fire is more prominent. He’s started to admire that about you. “Spencer, I am not hiding in the closet.”

“Then lock yourself in the bathroom again!” he exclaims. He doesn’t mean for the outburst, but he can’t help it. “Just— I can’t focus if I’m worried about you, and right now the only thing I can think of is how worried I am about you, so I need to know you’re safe while I do this.”

You stare at him, and Spencer stares right back, if a little frantic. He feels his chest rise and fall from the force, a stark contrast to your still body—similar to the panic he knows is in his eyes to the steely cool of yours. 

“I’m not letting you potentially face an insane stalker by yourself,” you finally say. 

Spencer huffs. “I am an FBI agent. I’ve faced worse things than insane stalkers.”

“We’ve been together this whole time,” you insist. “We— we can do this together too.” 

He looks at you again—he can tell you’re not going to move on this. Spencer eventually sighs and holds the phone back up to his ear. 

“I’m assuming you heard that?” 

“Let her go with you,” Gideon says. “It’s riskier for her to be on her own than outside with you. But stay on the line, and stay alert. Nothing can happen to her—do you understand?” 

“I won’t let anything happen to her,” he says. “I meant what I said.” 

“...Good.” 

Spencer holds the phone out to you again, and your lip curls. 

“I’m not—” 

“Come on,” he interrupts, gesturing with his head into the hallway. 

Your annoyance melts into acknowledgement when you realize he’s not blowing you off again, and you nod as you take the phone. Spencer wraps both hands around his gun as he starts moving, you matching his pace as you follow him. 

“Yeah, Dad,” he hears you say behind him. “I’m here.” 

This is what he meant by you needing to stay behind. He’s worried about you more than anything, yes, but he also can’t help but listen. Spencer has very keen ears, to everyone’s simultaneous disdain and appreciation on the team—it makes him a very good asset in the field, but also a very good asset when it comes time for office gossip. 

“No, nothing’s happened yet. Yes— yes, I’m okay, I promise. Spencer’s done an annoyingly good job of keeping me safe.” 

Once Spencer reaches the door, he peers through the peephole to make sure their unsub isn’t embarrassingly obvious. It’s clear, and he turns to face you and raises a hand, then places his finger on his lips. 

“Uh— I have to go dark for a sec,” you say. “We’re checking the perimeter. Don’t worry, I’ll scream if anyone tries to kill me. Be back soon.” 

You pull the phone away from your ear and nod at Spencer, and he holds his breath before he opens the door. 

The frigid air hits both of you at once, and he hears then sees your sharp exhale of breath. It’s been a while since either of you have been outside, but it’s good to know he hasn’t been missing superb weather. 

“Stay close and stay quiet,” Spencer whispers. “I’m your only line of defense out here.” 

He expects you to shoot back with some remark, but you merely nod in response. Spencer hopes he hides the shock he feels before he turns away and starts walking. 

Dawn isn’t for a few more hours—the only real light source is the moon high in the night sky. It doesn't exactly help his nerves to be doing all this in the dark, but part of him is almost thankful to be doing this. Spencer doesn’t know how to deal with you or any of the emotions you stir inside of him or the sleepless nights you cause because he can’t stop thinking of you—but he knows how to do his job, and he knows how to do it damn well. 

He just wishes it didn’t have to come with the unfortunate side effect of you being in immense danger. 

But Spencer does his best to push those thoughts to the back of his mind—right now, he has to have one focus. 

And he does. The two of you stick close to the side of the house, his eyes darting all over as he tries to dig out any details, any possible sign that the unsub was here. The ground is still a thin layer of mud from the storm last night, so it should be easy to find footprints. Spencer’s Converse aren’t doing a great job at keeping him upright—slipping in front of you is too embarrassing for him to even think about. 

All of a sudden, he stops, his arm shooting out in front of you. You don’t realize it for a second and you run into him, your hand wrapping around his arm on instinct to steady yourself. If he wasn’t so shocked at what he was looking at, he would have been bright red over it. 

“What the h—” 

“Footprints,” he whispers.  “Th— they’re almost gone, but—” 

“He was here?” you interrupt. Fear spikes in your voice and your grip tightens on his arm. 

“Last night, maybe.” Spencer swallows the doubt in his throat. It doesn’t matter what he thinks, how he feels—he’s not going to make you feel worse. “The rain probably washed most of them away.” 

“Spencer—”

“I am surprised these are still here, though,” he continues. “The rainfall was really heavy. I wouldn’t expect them to stay in mud like this—” 

“Spencer, look where we are!” you exclaim, gesturing hard with your other hand. He realizes that you’ve let go of his arm by now, but he pushes it out of his head and looks. 

“The window to your room,” he says. The blinds are closed and the lock is in place—he’s made sure every night—but there are small enough gaps between the shutters. 

“He was watching us last night!” Your breathing is starting to come heavier and faster now. “We talked about all that shit and he was just here watching and we didn’t even fucking know!” 

You’re on the edge of hyperventilating. Spencer has got to get you down or else you’re going to have a full blown panic attack out here. 

“Hey, hey— look at me.” He says your name and that, if anything else, gets you to listen and meet his eyes. They’re filled with an unbridled fear he hasn’t seen in you until now. “Don’t think about him. Don’t think about any of this. He’s not here.” 

“He was watching us—” 

“And we’ll figure out what to do next. But you have to stay calm. You can’t let him win.” 

You’re still harried, your chest rising and falling rapidly as your eyes dart all around. Spencer says your name softly, tucks his gun into its holster, then takes your hands in his, hoping that it gives you something to focus that isn’t the rest of this. 

“Just look at me,” he says softly. 

You suck in another shaky breath, but you’re not as frantic as before. You at least look him in the eye, and you don’t wrench your hands out of his grasp. Progress, if nothing else. 

“Breathe with me.” 

You nod—still panicked, but better. Spencer breathes in deep and you do the same, following as he counts up and down with his fingers. It takes a few rounds, but eventually, he’s gotten you off the edge. 

Spencer says your name again, just as soft as before. You’re still breathing slowly in and out. 

“How do you feel?” 

“Better,” you murmur. “I—” 

You’re interrupted by the phone you both forgot was in your hand, Gideon’s voice muddled as it comes from the receiver. You rip your hands out of Spencer’s as you come back into yourself, shaking your head and blinking a few times while you take a few steps away from him. 

“I’m here, Dad,” you say. “We— we’re okay. No, nothing happened.” 

Spencer blinks too. He looks down at his hands, then glances at you, then shakes his head. He walks back over to the footprint and crouches down, trying to keep his mind clear. He commits every detail he can to memory, doing his best to ignore the conversation with your dad in the background. 

Well, he tunes in a little. He can’t help it—he wants to make sure you’re okay. 

“We found a footprint outside my room,” you’re saying. “Spencer thinks it’s your guy. I have no idea. Yes, we are. You don’t have to be so pushy.” You sigh and he feels your gaze on him. “Spencer, we have to finish this up. Dad wants us back inside.” 

He clears his throat as he nods a few times. “Let me get a picture of this first.” 

You hand him the phone and Spencer snaps some photos from a few different angles, hoping forensics will be able to get anything out of it. He hears Gideon’s voice again and he holds it to his ear once more. 

“Gideon?” 

“Reid, get her back inside,” he says. “We can’t take any unnecessary risks.” 

“We haven’t finished securing the perimeter,” he says. 

“Then finish it and get back inside!” he exclaims. “You have proof that he was there—” 

“We don’t know it’s him,” Spencer interrupts. 

“We know there was somebody there!” Gideon shoots back. “I’m not risking her, and from what I’ve heard, you don’t want to either.” 

Spencer feels his cheeks warm as he looks back at you, and he pulls his gun back out of its holster. “Come on. We have to finish this up.” 

“That’s what I said,” you mutter, but you follow him without further protest. 

The rest of the check goes by quickly without any other distractions or surprises, and soon enough you’re back inside. While Spencer chats with Gideon, updating him in a calmer manner on everything with the phone call and the footprint, you’re ruffling through the cabinets. 

Eventually, he sees you pull out a bottle of clear liquid from the corner of his eye. He frowns and realizes that it’s vodka. 

“It’s 4:29 in the morning,” Spencer says, cutting off Gideon almost absentmindedly as you pop the bottle open. 

“And we found out that this place isn’t nearly as safe as anyone thought,” you respond sharply. “I think that warrants some drinking.” 

“That means that you should have a clear mind,” he says. “Alcohol impairs your brain’s communication pathways, as well as your judgment and coordination.” 

“I’ve gotten drunk before, genius,” you mutter as you search for a glass. You end up choosing a the mug you used for coffee the other morning then start pouring. “Enough to know it’s what I need right now.” 

“It can also cause mood swings,” Spencer says. “I think that’s the last thing you need right now.”

You roll your eyes, not even bothering to look back at him as you finish pouring a concerning amount of liquor into the mug. 

“What is going on over there?” Gideon asks. Spencer remembers he’s holding the phone and he puts it back to his ear. 

“I think your daughter is an alcoholic,” he comments. 

“I’m not an alcoholic,” you say sharply. “I just can’t focus on all this right now.” 

“It’s best if she gets some sleep,” Gideon says. “All of this is likely terrifying to her, no matter how hard she tries to hide it.” 

Spencer’s mind flashes back to your near panic attack—your wide eyes full of fear and harried breathing that only made you hyperventilate more when you realized you couldn’t control it. It’s too easy to think of you as some untouchable being from the way you interact with him, bothered by nothing and no one. 

The mask cracks on rare occasion. It makes you seem frighteningly real. 

“You’re right,” Spencer nods. You sip your drink without flinching. He doesn’t think he can even call it a drink if it’s just straight liquor. “We could all use some sleep.” 

“Just make sure she’s safe,” he says. “Make sure the whole place is secure. We’re not—” 

“Taking risks,” he finishes. “Believe me, I know.” 

Gideon is silent for a second, and Spencer takes the time to look at you. The bags under your eyes are even more prominent, and there’s a haunted glint in your eyes as you stare at the wall. You shiver ever so slightly, the outside chill still lingering on your skin. You’ve got pajama pants on but just a plain tee. You didn’t have time to put a sweatshirt on before he pulled you outside in the mania of it all. 

You really are beautiful—but you’re so damn tired. 

Spencer realizes that all he wants to do is give you some respite. 

“I’ll call you back later, then,” Gideon says. “To check in.” 

“Okay.” Spencer’s throat bobs as he averts his eyes from you. “Get some rest too, Gideon.” 

The other end hangs up without a response. Spencer stares down at the phone for a few seconds then sighs before he tucks it back into his pocket. 

“What’d he want?” you ask. 

“I can’t believe you’re drinking vodka out of a coffee mug at four in the morning.”

You frown. “You don’t get to judge me.” 

“It’s not good for you.” 

“None of this is good for me,” you enunciate. “What did my dad want?”

“I’m serious,” Spencer continues. “Drinking on an empty stomach can lead to low blood sugar— drinking at this hour is going to completely disrupt your circadian rhythm.” 

“You know what else has disrupted my circadian rhythm?” you ask mockingly. “Being here. Having a stalker. Finding out that said stalker was also here, watching us. I think that’s a little worse for me than the alcohol.” 

Spencer stares at you, and as you’re prone to do, you stare back. Eventually, he shakes his head and looks away, deciding to quit while he’s ahead. 

“He wants you to get some sleep,” he says. “Wants us both to.” 

You scoff and shake your head, downing much more vodka than you should in one go. Again, you don’t flinch—for a schoolteacher, you handle your liquor very well. “Like I’d get to sleep after this.” 

“It’s important,” Spencer insists. “You’ve gotten— what? Three hours of sleep?” 

“Well, all this excitement has woken me up,” you say. 

“Well, I’m tired,” Spencer says. “So I guess I’ll see you in a few hours.” 

He starts to walk to his room, figuring that you need time to cool off, when—

“Wait.” 

Your voice is oddly strangled, and Spencer stops in his tracks. 

“I—” you stop and sigh, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. “I don’t want to be alone right now.” 

“Our rooms are close to each other,” he says. “I’ll be able to hear if you yell.” 

You rub your eyes as you let out another haggard sigh. “I can’t stand to be in that room, Spencer. Not knowing that— that he was right there.” 

Spencer can’t look away from you. Your eyes glint with tears you’re trying to hold back, but you’re laid bare in a way he knows you hate. 

You’re being pushed to your limits against your will, and it kills him that he can’t do anything to help you. Honestly, sometimes he feels useless being stuck here while the rest of the team is out there actively working to help you. All he can do is stand around here and annoy you. 

Except you want him there. For the first time since all of this has started, you want him there. 

It’s the only thing he can do for you right now. How can he refuse? 

“Okay,” he says softly, and he nods. “Okay. We can share my room tonight.” 

The tension in your shoulders fades ever so slightly, and you—thankfully—set the mug down. “Keep your gun close.” 

“I’m not sure you want me shooting when I’m sleep deprived,” Spencer says. 

Your lips twitch just so, and Spencer’s heart skips a beat. He can’t help it. 

He should have known he was in too deep the moment he stepped into this house with you. 

-

“Very cozy,” you say. 

“It’s the same as your room,” Spencer responds. 

You shrug. “It’s messy. Makes it feel like home.” 

He feels his face flush. “I haven’t really been focused on keeping things clean.” 

“Relax.” You sit down on the bed. “I’m not judging you.” 

“Good.” Spencer glances at you as he moves his bag off of your side of the bed. “Because that would be very rude after the generosity I’ve shown you.” 

You laugh and Spencer finds himself smiling at the sound of it. He’s glad he’s turned away, and he’s glad he manages to push it away by the time he’s turned back around. 

You’re wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants now, and it’s strange to see you look so… soft. Every part of you is so sharp, some of it jagged—sometimes you harden around him, sometimes you mellow. He’s a bit tired of the back and forth. 

Maybe that’s what makes him speak up. 

“I’m tired of us always being at odds.” 

Your eyebrows rise and you look at him. “Really?” 

Spencer nods, his will bolstered. “Really. We have a nice talk one night, and I feel like we’ve had a breakthrough, and then you go back to hating me the next morning. I’m— I’m sick of it.” 

He expects you to shoot back with some mocking comment like you always do, making fun of him for wanting more than what little you give him. But instead, you lay back against the pillows and shrug. 

“Okay.” 

He blinks. “Really?” 

“Really,” you nod. “I’m too tired to want to fight right now.” 

“You’re the one that always tries to fight me.” 

“Aren’t you fighting me right now?” 

Spencer shakes his head. “You’re unbelievable.” 

You chuckle. “Still fighting.” 

He stares at you. As usual, you stare back, but this time you can’t fully bite back your smile. For some reason, that gets Spencer to break. He smiles too, and he settles down on the bed next to you. There’s a pillow buffer between you, but it’s still a lot closer than he’s used to. 

Well, he did hold your hands earlier, but that’s because he was bringing you down from a panic attack. That doesn’t mean anything. 

“What a day,” he mutters. 

“And it hasn’t even started yet,” you muse. “I don’t know how you do this kind of shit every day.” 

“I’m not really the target of any of this,” he says. “I usually stay behind the scenes. I’m good with geographical profiles, not chasing down unsubs.” 

You look over at him. “You haven’t really talked about anything you do for the BAU.” 

Spencer shrugs. “I thought it would be a sore subject.” 

You pause. “You’re… probably right.” 

“I figured.” He chuckles, then glances over at you. “But you already know enough about me. You said you would talk about your job. Teaching, and your kids, and all that.” 

Your eyebrows rise. “You actually care?”

Spencer gives you a look. “I thought we were past that part in our friendship.”

“We’re not friends.”

He shrugs. “Whatever you say.”

You roll your eyes, but you go on anyway. “I’m a highschool teacher in Fairfax. You know Mount Vernon High?” 

Spencer nods. “I know the name of every high school in Virginia.” 

“Of course you do,” you huff. “But that’s besides the point. I did my student teacher hours there, and they offered me a full time position. I took it, so I guess I’ve been there since senior year.” You purse your lips. “It’s a little depressing when you look at it like that.” 

“Then don’t look at it like that,” he say. “You said you loved your job.” 

“I do!” You smile again, a bit lighter this time. “My teachers were a huge part of my life, especially in high school.” The lightness fades some, but he notices how you try to hide it. “If I could help even one kid the same way my teachers helped me, then I would have done something with my life.” 

“That’s very noble of you,” Spencer says. “I don’t think I ever would have guessed you were a teacher.” 

“Oh, please,” you say. “You’re a profiler. You’d figure it out.” 

“You wouldn’t know I work with the FBI at first glance.” 

“Well, I’m not a profiler. Besides,” you tip a shoulder, “I have the ulterior motive of wanting to introduce kids to the wonders of physics.” 

Spencer’s eyes light up. “You’re a physics teacher?” 

“I teach a load of science classes, but I carry the banner for AP physics.” You huff a laugh. “You’re probably the only one that doesn’t sound lame to.” 

“I love physics!” he exclaims. “I’ve got a PhD in engineering, remember?” 

You smile— no, you actually grin at him, and he can’t believe he finally broke through the barrier with science. 

“Trust me, I’d love to talk physics with you, boy genius, but—” you’re interrupted with a yawn, and Spencer resists the urge to do the same— “but I think I’m actually about to fall asleep.”  

Spencer shakes his head with a small laugh. He realizes that he’s relaxed while you’ve been talking, limbs looser and fully laying back against the pillows. 

“This was actually part of my master plan to get you to rest,” he says. “Talking science always works with the team.” 

He sees you smile out of his peripherals as you lay fully down, can feel every shift of your body against the mattress while you try to find a good position. 

“It wasn’t you,” you say. “It was the vodka.” 

 “Of course,” he agrees. 

Silence falls over the room as the two of you settle in. You take off your sweatshirt, a slight shiver running through you once you’re back in your tank top. Spencer removes his glasses, and he blinks a few times to adjust to the blurriness.

The bed is big enough for you to both have your own space,, and you’re both careful to keep your backs to each other. The silence is comfortable despite the previous animosity. Maybe all it really did take was for him to start talking science. 

Eventually, though—

“Thank you, Spencer.” Your voice is little more than a whisper, but it cuts through the silence like a knife. “I— I know you don’t like me. So it means a lot that you still do all this for me.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, taking your words in. The mingled sounds of your breathing are really the only things filling the room, and he can feel your weight against the mattress. It’s all oddly intimate. 

“You’re wrong.” He’s almost surprised at the sound of his own voice. “I do like you.” 

Your shock shows through the silence. Spencer takes his chance. 

“You’re going through something no one should ever have to experience, and you’re doing it with someone you think stole your life from you.” Spencer shifts ever so slightly. His hands feel inexplicably clammy. “It was unfair of me to take Gideon’s side so often.” 

“Still.” Your words are muffled as you speak half into the mattress. “We have more important things to worry about. It was unfair of me to spend so much time giving you shit. You— you didn’t even know I existed until a month ago.” 

“But now I do.” He pauses. “And I’m glad I do. So you can start looking forward instead of always looking back.” 

Again, silence. It lasts so long Spencer wonders if you’ve fallen asleep. Your breathing is thankfully steady (a side of him is always focused on your breathing just to make sure) and you don’t shift much, so he wouldn’t be surprised. You were exhausted—

“Spencer?” 

His eyes open. He didn’t even realize they had closed. You sound half-asleep, your voice nothing more than a whisper. He wishes more than anything he knew what was going through your mind right now. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m glad you’re here.” 

His heart stutters so blatantly he’s sure you can hear it. Spencer honestly doesn’t know what to say—his mouth is so dry he doesn’t know if he can say anything. 

Spencer thought you hated him. You thought Spencer hated you. 

It’s ironic. 

“Me too,” he eventually manages. 

But there’s no response. You must’ve already fallen asleep again, just conscious enough to say a few words. The rude awakening mixed with the fear and alcohol couldn’t have done you much good. 

Spencer swallows the doubt in his throat and closes his eyes again, trying not to focus on you. It’s practically impossible. 

He’s glad, at least, that you’re able to sleep. You deserve to rest more than anyone. 

Eventually, the sound of your breathing lulls Spencer to sleep. 

You were the one thing he didn’t have on his list.

[lockandkeyblade]

dead on main first meeting but it's really awkward

"Danny, where have you been?!" Is the first thing Jazz snaps once she answers her phone. She has a right to snap. This isn't Amity, this is Gotham. A place where the villans weren't just ghosts, where her little brother wasn't just a vigilante. He was trafficking bait. He was an accidental drug mule. He was supposed to be back at the hotel three hours ago. She was allowed to be stressed. Although, she can't help but add to that question. "Do you...have a cat?"

"Hey Jazz," Danny's voice is sheepish, almost entirely eclipsed by the rumbling vibrations that seem to be coming from right next to him, if she was to hazard a guess. "Sorry, I uh- got caught up in something?" "In something." Something still sounds like trouble, but it's not coming with the edge of villain, or worse, police, so she exhales. Allows her shoulders to relax.

Crosses her free arm across her chest, because Danny might not be In Trouble, but he is in so much trouble.

"What kind of something?"

"Well... see, here's the thing." She can hear shifting through the receiver, before the purring stops. Almost immediately, Danny lets out a sharp yelp-- and the purring continues, just as sharp and vibrant as before. "I got a little lost, and next thing I know, uh- I think Red Hood thinks I'm some kind of ecto-plushi?"

They both fall into silence, for several moments. The purring does not stop.

"Red Hood."

"Yeah."

"The crime lord vigilante?"

"Yeup."

"Is using you as a teddy? A ghost teddy?"

"Mhm. It's been like... four hours, I think? He calmed down for a while, but calming down doesn't mean letting me go, apparently." Danny huffs, loudly. Ignoring her absent reprimand for making the phone peak. "Nightwing tried to help for maybe five minutes, but I told him to get lost."

"Why?" "I think he was crying?" Danny mumbles something about photos, but right now, that really isn't important.

Her little brother had been kidnapped off the street. By Red Hood. For cuddles.

"...Huh." Okay, sure.

She can't say this is the weirdest thing to happen to them. Sighing, Jazz strides over to her suitcase, digging through her clothes to pull out the Fenton Anti-Creep Stick. "Just send me your location, I'll come get you."

"Thanks Jazz, you're the best."

[ragana62]

Here's my thoughts from the perspective of an author who is not nearly as good at tagging as I should be because I run into issues of knowing what main tags are still:

Correct tagging of squicks/triggers/kinks, major CW, etc. at a bare minimum is not spoiling things. It's basic decency, and it actually makes fics more accessible. Both because you're being a good person and letting people filter out works that aren't what they want/aren't safe for them, and because it makes it easier for people to find what they're looking for. Tags are basically (literally) SEO for your fic.

Knowing there are explicit descriptions of violence in a fic doesn't spoil what that scene(s) is/are for readers who are alright with reading it. It does however keep readers who could be harmed by reading that from that harm. Knowing that a fic includes kink and what specifically that kink content is, doesn't ruin the fic, if anything it makes it easier for people who want to read about that to find it. I won't name specifics, but the amount of times I've been looking for specific kink content and found it impossible to do so because 80% of the fics that do include it either don't tag it or tag it with some ridiculous vaguepost of a description tag that makes it impossible to find unless you were on a specific forum in 2006 to learn it or figure it out through trial and error is substantially more than the zero it really should be.

The biggest reason I see for authors not wanting to tag comprehensively is 'conventional media doesn't have trigger warnings/comprehensive tags' which is fine in theory, but also it isn't correct. We live in the internet age, spoilers exist, and a lot of people do look to places like TV tropes, reviews, the wiki, etc. especially if they are trying to avoid certain triggering content. Fanfics don't usually have external sources of spoilers unless you're in a community that reads similar fics and can be consulted for advice, that's why tags are so important. Because again, readers who want your content won't find you without the tags to search by, and readers who are doing everything they can to avoid a certain type of content can't actually follow 'don't like, don't read' without tags to help them filter searches.

For authors who don't like to tag particularly comprehensively, or who like me at times are posting WIPs that are in progress and which might at some point contain potentially triggering content but you aren't 100% sure it will or what that content will be yet, please consider using 'author chose not to use archive warnings'. That's literally what that is there for (and it should be a part of filtering if you are trying to avoid potentially triggering content, because as a general rule, that is a mark that indicates 'this isn't tagged comprehensively for whatever reason, whether I've not written the whole fic and suspect the tags will update with major squicks/triggers eventually as I go but I can't 100% say for sure what those will be, or I just don't tag my works in detail'). Because yes, not all works are for everyone, fiction doesn't owe the world perfect compliance with our safest, softest, most morally upright principles at all times, and 'don't like don't read' is still the golden rule, but if you could actively avoid causing harm to readers who would have chosen to avoid the work if they had known to do so, why wouldn't you?

AO3 👏 TAGS 👏 ARE 👏 NOT 👏 SPOILERS 👏

i’m so tired of authors not tagging correctly because they don’t want to “spoil the fic”

correctly tagging your fic allows readers who DON’T want to read things like major character death, gore, mpreg or whatever may be their squick to filter your fic out from the main ship/fandom tag. not including the correct tags on your fic is harmful to readers and i’m tired of pretending it’s not.

“don’t like don’t read” great! i won’t! tag your fic correctly next time ffs

[rqbossman]

Hope it's not too personal but did you ever did a voicing job for McMillan education publishing because I have a english textbook from them and one of the va from the listening exercises sounds like you and i feel like im going crazy

I don't believe so. The thing is I've been recorded a lot over the years so I may have been recorded as a teenager without me remembering/ realising it would be used. For instance, as a child I had my voice recorded to act as a speech aide for non-verbal children. I believe it was a one-off to help a specific kid who was struggling to get a voice that was appropriate for them but for all I know its still out there being used somewhere or even distributed. It's weird to think about. It's even possible I might still be some small kids voice out there. Probably the most important recording I ever did.

[mcflymemes]

AS SAID BY ASTARION ANCUNÍN *  assorted dialogue from baldur's gate 3

you are mine. no one can change that.

i wish... to drink. and be drunk.

you haven't earned the right to stare at me like that.

you could scream bloody murder out here and no one would ever know.

we should find a tavern and celebrate.

do my eyes deceive me? the gang really is all here.

i'd rather be the only dark power inside your body, if it's all the same to you.

you're cute, you know. in another life we might have been friends.

i don't hate you. because this is not you.

we just have to be vigilant. keep our wits about us.

you can try, but i will stop you.

do what you like. it's none of my concern.

i simply do not care.

we could do it, you know. we could rule the world.

i... i don't know what to say. thank you.

well that's just disgusting.

listen to me, damn it! i'm trying to save you, even if you're too stupid to see it.

believe what you want. i'm done with you.

you have no idea what i can do.

sounds like a delightful dinner plan. perhaps i'll join you.

forgiveness? you've never forgiven anything.

i don't need anyone to speak for me.

i don't owe you a damn thing.

don't worry. i'll keep watch tonight.

just don't ask me again.

is there anything else? any new and interesting ways you can waste my time?

i'll come to you tonight, when you're snugly wrapped in your bedroll and we can have a little privacy.

this time i'll make sure i'm quiet.

you're lucky i'm such an open-minded person.

why send anyone after me? i'm hardly a threat out here.

what are you waiting for? help me!

"you can do whatever you want" sounds terrifying, and it is, but there's opportunity in it, too.

i am so much more than what you made me.

hold very, very still.

i'm sorry, but could you excuse us a moment?

get out of my way. i'm in no mood to talk.

you didn't think i could do it? i'm hurt.

i appreciate your loyalty, darling, but i don't think you understand.

fair? nothing about this is fair.

i don't know who they are, but i have plenty of questions.

i'm glad to hear it.

i do believe you. i know you only did what you thought was best for me.

i just need some time to let it sink in.

you're so good to me.

safe? how can i ever be safe now?

well, hello. looking for a cuddle?

now that you're back with us, we need to have a talk.

how flattering. and disturbing.

please tell me this is important.

there's also gold, sex, revenge... quite the list, really. but failing any of those, i will always settle for shallow praise.

now just tell me i'm beautiful and we can call it a day.

i want to thank you.

you're a vision. and you're so much more than that.

this is all a game to you, isn't it?

for as long as i can remember, i've been used by others.

of course i was attracted to you. look at you, for goodness' sake!

i will forever remember what you did for me today.

that's what you've been waiting to hear, isn't it? that's what you want?

i have been waiting so long for you.

come, give yourself to me.

i'll take care of everything.

it's time to try living again.

i feel safe with you. seen.

we don't have to rush into anything tonight.

would it kill you to dispense a compliment?

looking for something?

honestly, you have no sense of fun.

i do appreciate your enthusiasm, but let's try to restrain ourselves a little.

would you like a tour? we can start with my tent, if you like.

everything was taken from me, too.

well, that could have gone better.

i don't know what you mean.

were you actually worried i was angry?

so what was it like? tell me everything.

i hope i'm not interrupting.

some day that soft heart of yours is going to be torn out of your chest.

what a party. we should do this again.

there you are. i've been waiting. waiting since the moment i set eyes on you. waiting to have you.

you've seen enough already.

i didn't want to lose control.

oh, don't be like that. not every problem has to be beaten to death, my dear.

wait! don't interrupt them!

let's not make trouble for some stranger.

my, this place is fun.

my past isn't exactly a happy story.

that was amazing.

it won't happen again. you have my word.

so many people need killing.

remember who saved you.

don't worry. i'm here.

[petermorwood]

Once there was a bookshop.

Its name was "Dark They Were And Golden Eyed", the title of a Ray Bradbury short story.

I'd seen it advertised in the back of my "Conan The Barbarian" comics, black-and-white UK reprints of the US originals which came out on the same day - Thursday, I think - as a two-hour first period history lesson (9AM-11AM).

So I bought my weekly Conan on the way to school as a pleasant back-of-the-class distraction from such A-Level delights as "Metternich and the Congress of Vienna" or "Bismarck and the origins of the Franco-Prussian War" or "Causes and Consequences of the French Revolution".

I was getting into fantasy at that time because British publishers were bringing it out like there was no tomorrow - Robert E. Howard "Conan" stories from Sphere, Clark Ashton Smith "Zothique" stories from Panther, and the Michael Moorcock book-of-the-month club from Mayflower.

Dark They Were was a sort of holy grail, because London wasn’t exactly round the corner or even a mere long train ride away as Dublin might have been, and my parents weren't willing to let me make a trip like that all alone. (I also suspect Dad had checked a map and found that Dark They Were was in the heart of Soho, a place with Other Kinds Of Bookshop.)

*****

I finally went to London after getting A-levels good enough for Uni, despite my History result not being what it might have been (no idea how that happened). :-P

Dad was right about the Other Kinds Of Bookshop, a couple of which I duly investigated and found to be educational, although not in the way intended. Even though the places I ate and drank and the books and records I bought on that same trip are long forgotten, I can still remember it.

Despite having at least my usual allowance of critical-faculty-blunting late teen hormones, the shops outweighed it with their air of furtive sleaze, like the carpet in a seedy bar that sticks to your shoes - except this was an all-body experience. They certainly filled me with desire, but that desire was for a long, hot shower.

So much for the main attraction of late-'70s Soho...

*****

Far more attractive was my discovery, just a short walk round the corner from DTW, of 58 Dean Street Records, which specialised in soundtrack albums.

I'd been buying soundtrack LPs for years, so what with DTW and 58, I was well laden on my way home, and none of those purchases needed hidden from the parents, either... :->

Despite that, Forever People in Bristol was an even more important SF bookshop, at least to me. For one thing it was easier to reach, less than an hour away when visiting an old school friend who at that time lived in Cardiff.

For another thing, I'd become a keen fan of fantasy anthologies, which were like samplers or tasting menus for different writers - you could call them selection boxes,and Irish / UK readers will know what I mean by that.

FP was where I found imports like Offutt's "Swords Against Darkness" series and DAW's "Year's Best Fantasy" series. I'd already got the first two in Carter's "Flashing Swords" series as UK imprints...

...so the instant I saw the US-import Number 5 I nabbed it.

A bit later, back in Belfast, I found a novel by one of those writers in Queen’s University Bookshop.

It was set in the same world as the short story and though the cover was, er, a less than accurate summation of the contents, those contents made for a fascinating read.

I met that writer twice, at SF conventions in 1985.

Then at a couple more in 1986.

After that came Boskone in 1987...

And the rest is history.

(Pedantic writer note: this has two typos. There's no apostrophe on Authors' - unless it's short for Authors Have A Wedding and I doubt that - and there's an extra O where I don't need it, a first but far from last instance of having my name misspelled in print...)

Happy soon-to-be-38th Anniversary, loved!

[queervegancryptid]

They fought back in part because the cops were literally checking their genitals so they could arrest the trans and gender non-conforming people there.

Stonewall wouldn't have been fucking necessary if not for cops pulling that shit and the powers that be supporting them so there wouldn't be any consequences. Cis queer people were also under threat, obviously, because you don't have to be trans to suffer from cissexism. But to remove references to trans people from this monument in particular is to literally erase trans people from a key moment in our history.

It's all part of the plan. One of the insidious things about erasing us in this way is that knowing our history can be a source of pride as well as strength, and it can help us resist the demoralizing nature of all of what's happening.

That's part of why they're doing it. They don't want us to know our history, and they also don't want cis people to know it, either, because then they can spread the false narrative that trans people were invented by attention-seeking people on Tumblr circa 2014. It goes hand in fucking glove with censorship and calling anything remotely queer "obscenity." If they can paint us as an anomaly that's definitionally obscene and therefore Morally Bad, it's that much easier to justify attacks on us.

Despite every way the Democrats have disappointed me over the years, when Harris gave a speech in November that called people at Stonewall "patriots," I teared up. Not that I put much stock (or any, really) in patriotism. But as a child, I never let myself imagine a future where a politician running for a major office, let alone for president, would say anything like that about people like me. This country is where I was born, but I never felt a sense of belonging in that way, like I had a welcoming home here. Maybe I never will.

Part of the reason queer bars are a thing at all is that queer people, especially trans people, were pushed underground and had nowhere else to fucking go aside from the odd bar that might be friendly to us. These places did become like home for a lot of people, and understanding it in context matters. It wasn't like they just threw bricks because "lol fuck cops." They fought back after enduring a lot, and they fought back out of genuine necessity, and I used to think, "They threw bricks so I wouldn't have to."

Lately, though, I'm coming to the realization that one day I might have to throw a brick, myself. I just hope I have my queer family around me, throwing bricks alongside me, if and when the time comes. We can resist, and we must do it together, and that's yet another reason they don't want you to know history. Collective action is necessary and can work. And it terrifies the folks in power.

Sigh. I'm sorry to go off. But this shit has me feeling some kind of way, and I just need people to understand the importance of queer history. If we don't protect it ourselves, it'll be destroyed.

Please read and share history. It matters. It really, really matters.

Okay. I'm gonna go cry.

Not to be dramatic but this is a massive fucking deal and I legitimately hope every single politician dies.

[yes-no-maybe-soo]

Ok so now there are RUMORS going around on Ladstwitter of a wedding banner + spicy birthday cards...

...

I'm not going to crash out yet b/c again these are just RUMORS but please God, no... neither sound like good things to me. I feel like a wedding banner is wayyyy too premature (Sylus and Caleb are still missing a shitton of important content and I feel should be out for longer before a WEDDING like... Caleb hasn't even had his kiss card yet... besides, a lot of players need room to recover between all the multiple LI banners...) as for the birthday cards... WHY make them SPICY??? Speaking as a Sylus stan, I am starving for sweet/fluffy 5 stars... it's been so long... we've had so many spicy banners in a row now... and with the comparative lack of sweet/fluffy Secret Times for Sylus it feels like they just keep sexualizing him atp. Don't get me wrong I normally love sexy content but we need cute and sweet stuff as well... a balance between the two to prevent burnout.

I guess we'll just have to wait and see whether these RUMORS are true. As you might imagine, I for one hope not.

EDIT: Adding on to how a wedding banner makes no sense, we're not engaged to any of the guys yet. Nor have we moved in together or anything. Hell, we haven't even had "I love yous" from any of them. But now we're SUPPOSEDLY going to get married???

...ok

[aveli-li]

HEADCANNONS OF GRAYSON X PREGNANT READER (ilysm😼)

Grayson and the Haven

warnings: established relationship, gender neutral reader, pregnant r!, pregnancy mentions, fluff, no smut, minors dni

a/n: LOVE YOU DOLLIE THANK YOU FOR THIS ASK I LOVED MAKING THIS AAAAA the baby fever this gave me is unbearable

♡ be prepared not to move a single finger.

♡ Grayson will not let you do anything that might take risk in the first months of the pregnancy, although you can perfectly do your chores just needing to add care to not force your body a lot, Grayson prefers to have you rested.

♡ If someone makes an offhand comment about your pregnancy or about you, she will make the person who they are talking to.

♡ Grayson will have to balance work with her personal life. It has been a great development since you two got together but since you are carrying her child she makes sure to come home earlier to have more time with you, and of course, checking you all the time.

♡ She understands how suffocating that might be and that you have your life and know how to take care of yourself, but please, this woman is protective by nature. It won't change her in such a vulnerable moment to leave you alone.

♡ She refuses and does rather not take risk quests and situations. Fearing her job could cause some harm to you and your baby, even in the future. If she has to go, she will take double care about it to not worry you and the baby about the mission and as soon as she returns she calls you to hear her voice and how things went well, or a bit tough but most important is that she is safe.

♡ The most lovely place in the world for her is next to you. Her muscled arm marking room for your head to rest, one hand caressing your hair and the other resting on your growing belly, she couldn't ask for anything better.

♡ He helps you build a nest to accommodate your belly once it grows bigger, and you found victory about the many pillows you wanted to buy that she found unnecessary. She helps you through your sleep, rubbing your back, caressing your belly, or massaging your sore legs and hips until you fall asleep again.

♡ Maybe, just maybe, for Grayson, the moment it all became true and realized that you were carrying her child was when she felt their first kick when she was baby talking to your belly. A late moment, but something on her switched, and she realized what she would become in a few months. She had a moment to process it, and couldn't believe that the baby gave this sort of signal when she talked to them.

♡ Grayson doesn't get emotional often, but since the thought of starting a family lightened up on her, you could see her emotional moreover. She doesn’t cry or have outbursts like you (and those damn hormones messing with your feelings), but she tears up in adoration, of finding someone that trusted her, and wanted to start a family with her.

♡ She has moments of doubt. You catch her staring at your belly, lost in thought, but your reassurance words saying that she will be a great mother eases her mind.

♡ And when the moment gets too tough for you, seeing your body changing so much over the weeks, Grayson pulls you into her lap and presses kisses all over your body, saying in a whisper and proudly how breathtaking you look.

♡ Buying clothes and the furniture was tiring but both agreed on the colors and decoration for the room. Grayson built everything, from the small wardrobe to the little crib, a teddy bear placed on the pillow that they will soon hold to sleep.

♡ Some nights, you find her in the baby's room, taking a moment to appreciate everything both are building together.

♡ A pillar of strength, respected by her peers, even feared by some. But with she's was something else, something softer. Grayson had all her love dedicated to you and only you. And now, for the little baby growing bigger every day.

☆ Small bonus, but imaging enforcer Grayon coming home to her pregnant partner, very housewife scenario aaa 🩷🩷

[tinfoil-jones]

Jerk Ford AU: Rumour Mill

Jerk Ford's only confirmed ally in the multiverse is the Anti-Ford. Any further rumours that they are friends, or that he has other allies that can considered friends, are nothing but unfounded nonsense.

The individuals named in these rumours include:

S, the Archivist from The Great Archive had been investigating Jerk Ford after he infected a different galactic archive, one belonging to a textile company, with a virus that changed every third noun to the word "d*ck", as retribution for the company continuing to email him ten years after he'd bought a coat from them. Jerk Ford may or may not have thrown him off of a roof, and there might have been a following rooftop chase, but nothing came from that. This incident happened around fifteen years after Jerk Ford fell through his portal.

[People who know him as Samuel

People who know him as ???

Imagine "the boiled one"]

"Watchdog" Ford-419"3 also known by a myriad of nicknames by Jerk Ford such as "John McClane", "Clearance Rack Jason Todd" and "The Ford Punisher" had considered killing Jerk Ford once, around twenty years after Jerk Ford fell through his portal, but Watchdog had more important tasks at hand than entertaining some mostly-harmless cosmic nuisance.

[Jerk Ford is the figure on the left and Watchdog Ford is the figure on the right]

Their dynamic of mutual disrespect never changed.

Further rumours about all four of these men (?) regularly meeting up at O'Sadleys to drink together is also nonsense.

[S: 'Oh my God, he's gonna kill me'

Watchdog Ford: *does not care*

Watchdog Ford: 'Oh my God, he's gonna kill me.'

S: *does not care*]

An oddly specific story has cropped up about S being an alien shapeshifter who was forced into a smaller, infantile form after an incident at said bar, where he then had to be taken care of like a baby by Watchdog Ford's brother Lee-77/H. And he reportedly stayed that way until Jerk Ford, who is an absolute lightweight who can get trashed after two beers, recovered and could formulate a regenation cure.

[Jerk Ford and Anti Ford: *Drunk*

S: This is not how you hold an infant-

Watchdog Ford: Help us.]

And while all of this was happening, Watchdog Ford had to take S's place at The Great Archive where all of the other Archivists assumed he was just S going through another identity crisis and taking a different human form.

And the Anti-Ford was babysitting the drunk and/or hungover Jerk Ford, swearing that he would never let him drink another Long Island Iced Tea ever again.

This story is so outlandish, especially the ending where S is still treated like a child by Lee who goes so far as to make him bug-themed lunches with cute little notes, that truly it can't be believed by anyone with an iota of sense.

[Kids bento]

It's important you do yourself a favour and don't believe everything you hear.

[Art and S The Archivist by @tearosepedall]

[Watchdog Ford and Lee-77/H by @nowimjustastranger]

[oatmealwrites]

Catch Kira, NOT Feelings! Ch. 6

Ch. 5 | Ch. 7 -> coming soon!

[series masterlist here]

[regular masterlist here]

Synopsis: Light is a master manipulator as per usual and quickly becomes suspicious of your 'relationship' with Ryuzaki. While a storm prevents him from coming to the task force meeting, the team locks in to the potential identity of Misa Amane being the Second Kira and what that means for all of your safety. Knowing that Light may be attempting to drive a wedge between you both, Ryuzaki asks you about the other things that couples do which might assist in convincing your task force colleagues that 'this' was real. The only issues? You're now convinced it may be becoming real too.

Tags: Light is a manipulator, you feel guilty af for lying to your team members, suggestive, mentions of sex, hair tugging, french kissing, dry humping, male erection, female arousal, mentions of masturbation, it's getting hot n heavy, MDNI, NSFW, 18+

Word Count: 10.7 k (SORRY)

a/n at end! enjoy~

~~~~~~

LIGHT POV

Light sits languidly at his desk, twirling his pen and furrowing his brows at his course materials that sit open before him. It’s late, long past 11pm and Misa has already left to go back home; a steady rain taps against his window as he enjoys the lack of company for the first time in a while. Ryuk’s presence doesn’t count anymore; he hovers in the air enjoying the sight of lightning that flashes with each roar of thunder, unamused as Light doesn’t give him any attention.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight.” Ryuk observes, turning to face the man.

Light sighs slightly, stopping the twirl of his pen and resting his cheek in the fat of his palm. “I’m thinking.”

Ryuk doesn’t say anything, but hovers closer to the desk and observes the way Light’s textbook remains open to the same page it was turned to 30 minutes ago. He’s seen Light calm and quiet with his thoughts before, but there’s an eerie demeanor to the way he sits that leaves Ryuk feeling eager to cure his boredom.

Light sits up a bit straighter when Ryuk reaches past him to grab an apple from the bowl his mother delivered earlier. “They’re faking it.”

Ryuk doesn’t stop his motion, popping the apple into his mouth and crunching loudly. “Hmm? Oh! You mean L and y/n?”

“Yes.” Light’s voice is curt and cold.

The shinigami over his shoulder pays no mind and continues chewing with his mouth open. “Mmm you must’ve been observing them very closely the other day to figure that out. Hehehe.”

Light doesn’t bother to entertain Ryuk’s suggestive teasing and rolls his eyes as the laughter behind his shoulder bellows loudly for only him to hear. Picking up his pen once more, he twirls it on his fingers again.

“Ok, but why does this matter so much? It’s not like it prevents you from killing people–”

“It prevents me from killing her.” Light interrupts.

The tone is harsh and quick, startling Ryuk as thunder roars beyond the glass patio door. Standing up and taking chunks of hair in his fingers, Light pulls slightly in frustration as his Shinigami companion watches in interest. 

“But I thought you wanted her on your side if you were to be caught. Why would you kill her now?”

Light sighs, releasing the grasp on his hair and looks at Ryuk. “I don’t want to, she’s committed no crime– but…” He looks down at his desk, the death note sitting neatly underneath his textbook. “If she’s going to stand in the way of a God… then I have no choice.”

Ryuk hums in better understanding and reaches to grab another apple from the basket, watching the way Light seems to work out a variety of situations in his head. 

“Mmm I see. And because she’s dating L suddenly, it puts her in an important spot at his side.”

Light scowls and runs a frustrated hand through his hair once more. “Yes, and only those in the task force know about it, meaning Ryuzaki has effectively guaranteed her safety! If she dies now, after no field work besides being with me, it’s a nail in my coffin!”

Light takes his textbook and throws it onto his bed, seething in anger as Ryuk enjoys the entertainment before him. 

“Damn him! He thinks he can just do whatever he wants… but I’ll show him– No! I’ll show the whole task force that ‘relationship’ is a fraud.” Light stands in the center of his room, shaking as he speaks and it makes Ryuk question the soundproofing of the walls. “Then, I’ll kill her. Right in front of him…. hehe..hahahaHAHAHA”

Ryuk pops the core of the fruit into his mouth and licks the juice running from the corner of his lips. “Mmm, I bet Misa will like the fact there’s no competition either.”

Light stops laughing and peers at the Shinigami before rolling his eyes. “Not like she matters much anyways– I’ll find a way to have her kill L and then I’ll deal with her and Rem afterwards.”

Walking back to the desk, he sits in the chair and looks at the way the death note now sits unhidden on the surface; he pulls out a regular notepad and grabs a mechanical pencil.

“But first I need to figure out how to prove this ‘relationship’ is fake… and maybe, if y/n kneels before the altar of Kira in submission, I’ll show her mercy. I mean if the task force votes to remove her for the egregious violation of trust, it’ll put her in a vulnerable spot for where to put her faith…” He taps his pencil tip to the paper a few times in idle thought. “But first– I need to figure out why Ryuzaki would go this far just to protect her.”

Ryuk takes the empty fruit bowl and shakes it upside down, grunting at the fact there were no more apples left for him to enjoy. A lightning strike draws his attention back outside before he speaks to the young man again. “Maybe he’s just a good boss.”

Light scoffs and twirls his mechanical pencil in a similar fashion to how he did the pen earlier. “Yea right. The hours he makes everyone work, the secrecy of everything– even Ukita died on the job. So it doesn’t make sense he would do any special treatment for someone... He even sent Matsuda and I to Aoyama with no hesitation so–”

Light cuts himself off and stares down at the notepad in awe as Ryuk watches two drops of rain race down the glass door, silently rooting for the left one to reach the bottom first. When thunder echoes outside he notices the lack of Light’s voice and turns back around. 

“Wait, you stopped talking. What happened?”

Light doesn’t say anything; his head hangs low and his shoulders jerk as a few chuckles escape his lips in an erratic manner. The light giggles turn into a fit of laughter as he throws his neck back and squints his eyes shut in humor. Feeling left out of an inside joke Ryuk ushers forward. 

“What? Whaaat? Tell me.”

A hand on his forehead as the laughter slows down, Light looks down at his notepad. “Ahhh. It’s not fake at all, is it Ryuzaki?!”

Ryuk scrunches his face and looks at the man with irritation growing evident; he wants to be entertained, not left out. He lifts a hand and scratches his face in confusion. “You don’t make sense… just a moment ago you said the relationship was staged.”

Light wipes a tear from his eyes and spins in his chair to sit with better posture as he drafts a variety of notes onto the paper. “The whole thing is fake– just not to him.”

Ryuk doesn’t say anything, not bothering to ask for proof as he knows the human in front of him will run his mouth and explain it anyways. On cue, Light taps his paper with the pencil as he opens his mouth once more. 

“I’ve known y/n longer than he has, a fact that gets under his skin and also puts him at a severe disadvantage.” He taps a list of names on the paper— a list of your most recent exes he can remember. “In all the relationships I’ve seen her in, she’s never acted like this.”

Ryuk peers at the names with slight interest but remains silent. “She’s never done excessive PDA, and now they’re making out in public. She’s always separated her work and personal life, and now she’s dating her boss. She’s also been strapped for cash, and now she’s bringing him cookies. The whole thing reeks of trying to prove a point in an obvious and gaudy fashion.”

Peering at the bullet points of dating habits, Ryuk shrugs again, not quite on the same page. “So this proves it’s fake, right?”

“Fake to her.” Light corrects, spinning back in his chair to continue scribbling. 

“But Ryuzaki would never make such an attempt to protect anyone besides himself. Not letting her go to Aoyama, showing up on campus suddenly, projecting their ‘relationship’ makes so little rational sense.”

“That’s true. That guy is just as methodical and stuck up as you Light!” Ryuk chuckles at his own joke while the man rolls his eyes.

“Sure–” Light concedes with grit teeth. “But it also means that there’s no logical reason for him to do this.”

“Ok…? So why would he…?”

Light scoffs and raises an eyebrow himself. “It’s stupid really; to be honest I don’t know why he would do it for this reason anyways…”

Circling a word at the center of the page, he taps his pencil against the phrase with a confused and lost look in his eyes. ‘Love’ 

[Back at task force – Your POV]

“And based on this sentence,” you raise your finger to trace the highlighted portion of the printed transcript, “we can infer that the whole ‘sharing powers’ thing is greatly exaggerated.”

Matsuda awes next to you as you explain the linguistics behind the most recent piece of evidence from the Second Kira– an audio tape mailed to Sakura TV postmarked two days ago. The audio has been transcribed into a few sentences on the paper in your hands; the message stating the Second Kira will no longer make public statements within the name of ‘Kira’ and will do what they can to earn the approval of the God– offering to punish more criminals and even ‘share the power’ with other devoted followers.

You tap your finger and open the cap of your highlighter to mark another portion of the lines for underlying meanings; the wording seems like a combination of syntax from Kira and the Second. 

“Nice catch there…” Aizawa leans down to point to another line as you begin explaining a separate portion of the script. 

A light rain patters at the hotel windows as the lingering storm from last night refuses to let up; Ryuzaki sits at the coffee table across the room but his gaze remains on you at the kitchen counter. Aizawa and Matsuda flank both your sides as you calmly pick apart the printed transcript on the wooden surface; Light remains absent, still having another hour in his evening lecture before he rejoins the group. 

Matsuda ‘ooos’ once more when you stand up, having completed your interpretation of the message splayed in front of you. “Woa, that’s an impressive deduction… I can't believe I didn’t catch it.”

You shrug and trace the lines once more, pausing to summarize them. “Well, if Kira could pass their powers on to people, why would they have chosen someone they never met? You can’t ensure allegiance or ability– the whole thing would be too risky.”

Despite telling this to Matsuda and Aizawa, Ryuzaki sits across the room listening to every detail. “So the Second Kira wasn’t ‘chosen’ ; it also limits the likelihood they can pass their ‘powers’ down to others. This would mean they came into power naturally rather than through succession. Especially when you consider the ego of the first Kira.”

Matsuda nods in approval and Mr. Yagami signals for the groups to merge once again; he makes space for Ryuzaki to resume the joint meeting. Taking your usual spot on the couch, you watch the way L flicks the TV screen to show the written audio transcript.

“You had already told me your interpretation earlier, y/n– but hearing it again there’s a few points we need to discuss.”

The group hums and gathers their assorted documents, ready to listen to his suggestion. “We have to entertain the possibility that the murder…’weapon’ has the ability to be yielded by more than one person. And that this ‘power’ may be the reference within the message.”

You suck the inside of your cheek between your molars and reflect on the possibility; the fact no one has seen the murder weapon throws an uncomfortable wrench into the plan. A ‘power’ with the ability to kill with only a name and face certainly leans towards the divine and supernatural. You give a slight nod to Ryuzaki, the shared usage of ‘notebooks’ still remains private to only you.

The group remains silent in thought, everyone having no collective idea what the real cause of death could be. With a slight sigh, Ryuzaki scans the faces of the task force and turns to Mogi. “Regardless, it’s something important for everyone to keep in mind. Mogi, you have collected the forensics evidence, please divulge further.”

With an exhale, the man stands up and takes the remote from L before standing beside the TV screen and flipping to the next image.

“There were multiple traces of DNA on the tapes sent which caused some delays. Any postal service workers were filtered out upon looking at their work schedules which eventually left the evidence of two different women.”

He flips to an image of a woman you don’t recognize; her hair is cut short and splays in a variety of directions while her face adorns gothic makeup. “Her evidence showed up the most predominantly on the first few tapes. Saliva, finger prints, everything that would show her being the primary sender.”

Matsuda stands up excitedly. “So we got her! We got the Second Kira!”

“Not so fast.” Mr. Yagami leans back in his seat and motions for Matsuda to sit back down. “Please continue Mogi.”

The man coughs slightly and flips to the next image; a set of other video tapes litter the screen. “Her DNA didn’t match any criminal records, but it did match a series of occult videos sent to a variety of news stations. Most of them are fake or doctored as some sort of prank.”

Matsuda sinks slowly back down with a slight blush on his cheeks in embarrassment. 

Mogi flips to an image of the woman’s schedule. “Given her credit card statement, work schedule, and parental alibi… there’s limited room for her to commit any of the murders given the lack of time to access criminal information.”

Before the group can sigh in slight defeat, he flips to an image of another woman– one you recognize.

“Hey. I know her…” You sit upright and examine the doll-like face of the girl on the screen.

L leans in slightly, his face holds intrigue but the slight tremor in his body language hints a bit of anxiety. “Have you seen her on campus?”

You shake your head and examine her face another moment before turning to the group. “No, nothing like that. She’s a model I’m pretty sure… and she’s been in a few movies.”

Ryuzaki sits back slightly and nods once, taking in your response before nodding for Mogi to continue once again.

“Well, you’re right about that. This is Misa Amane, an upcoming celebrity whose DNA was already in the court system as a victim– her parents were murdered and she went through the trials against the perpetrator...”

You look between Mogi and Ryuzaki with concern at his pause. “Wait… I recognize this case; wasn’t it thrown out?”

Ryuzaki sits up right to secure a small plate of strawberry cake and pops the fruit garnish on top into his mouth; he speaks with his mouth open as he chews. “Exactly. The man was acquitted and shortly after Kira came to power, he died of a heart attack.”

The allegiance to Kira is immediately established and you sit back into your seat. In a strange sense, you kinda feel bad for her; if your family was killed and the murderer walked free from an inefficient judicial system…maybe you would have sympathy for Kira as we–

Ok, what are you thinking? Kira has killed more than just criminals; FBI agents and even members of this task force have been murdered. 

You shake off the thought and give Mogi your full attention once more as Ryuzaki watches your expression with uncomfortable focus.

“The tapes had pollen from flowers local to her hometown, and when we seized a few assets from her agent– without her knowledge– we matched her notebooks to the paper used in the letters. Not only did the ink match, but the handwriting too.” 

Mogi opens a manilla folder that had been tucked under his arm and places it on the coffee table in front of everyone. “Her credit card statements. There’s receipts of train ticket purchases that match the postage locations of the stamps from the Sakura TV demands.”

Aizawa crosses his arms. “Ok, just to push back on this… is it possible that she is also just an occult prankster? Kira could’ve put either one up to sending these tapes– like how they manipulated the acts of the criminals in jail before they died.”

Ryuzaki hums slightly, the fork in his mouth and frosting coating part of his lips and the sight makes you squirm slightly. “Given there have been multiple tapes sent in response to our demands and they haven’t died yet, we can assume they are doing this willingly…” He pauses and runs his tongue over his bottom lip to get the lost sugar. “Though if we detain one… there’s a chance Kira will kill one, or both, to avoid them from speaking out.”

You stare back at the image to examine her appearance again, and to avoid staring at the slutty way Ryuzaki cleans his fork of any remaining cream. 

Ugh. He doesn’t even know how it looks. 

You turn your attention back to the image of Misa and think for a moment. “There’s something else… aha!” You reach in your bag to pull out your laptop while the group of men watch you open the lid and type in your password.

Mr. Yagami sits forward to grab a mug of coffee from Watari’s tray. “Did you find something y/n?”

“Kinda…. Ah! Here it is!” You spin the laptop around and the men all lean in to get a better look.

“That looks delicious…?” Mogi mumbles in confusion from his still standing position.

You roll your eyes at the way Matsuda is nearly drooling. “Ok, but besides the image of the dessert, this is Misa’s social media page.”

Mr. Yagami blinks, completely lost. “Uh, ok?”

L sits forward and expands the image before looking up at you. “This is one of the cafes you and Light were talking about in Aoyama.”

You grin at him, slightly flush from his memory of you mentioning it in a conversation that he wasn’t even part of, before nodding and pointing to the post date and location. “Exactly! While it was posted a few days after Light and Matsuda were walking in Aoyama… it’s awfully convenient to post it on the same day we received the message that the Second Kira had found Kira.”

The group hums with excitement; everyone closer to finding Kira than ever before. Ryuzaki slips the last bite of cake into his mouth and places the saucer back onto the coffee table with a gentle touch. 

“However, this doesn’t inherently look very good for your son, Mr. Yagami.”

The group’s energy falters and you shift uncomfortably in your seats, the tension between the two men immediately rising once again. 

“Excuse me? Even if she was in Aoyama the same day as Light, Matsuda was with him the whole time!”

On cue, Matsuda jumps up to the chief’s defense. “That’s right Ryuzaki! Light never spoke to anyone who matches her photograph.”

Opting to reach for a plate of sugar cubes, he slides a few blocks into a warm mug of tea. “Mogi– please explain.”

Swallowing uncomfortably, you watch the way Mogi nervously loosens the collar on his button up and Mr. Yagami’s glare is intense. 

“What? Mogi... what is he talking about?!”

Examining the way everyone else looks at Mogi with concern, you deduce that L had only told you about his assignment trailing Light. 

“I had him follow your son after a few meetings, this woman has come to your house several times now.”

Mr. Yagami sputters at the way Ryuzaki speaks on Mogi’s behalf, abruptly turning between the men in shock and anger. “You what?”

Matsuda and Aizawa rise to their feet, each immediately standing between the men as Mr. Yagami tries to push forward and reach the collar of L’s shirt. The coffee table slides as the group begins to scuffle; you lift your feet to avoid the scattered mugs that topple onto the floor.

“You had our colleagues spy on my family? What gives you the right– after everything?!” Your mentor booms as Aizawa puts his arm out in front to block his movements.

L stands idly, Matsuda standing in front regardless. “Your son is still the most convincing suspect we have so far. Do you want to catch Kira or not?”

Mr. Yagami scoffs and you stand up now as well, picking up your bag to avoid the coffee puddle that threatens to stain the fabric. Moving slightly, you sling it over the back of the loveseat Ryuzaki stands in front of and watch the way Mr. Yagami scoffs with an exhale of hot breath.

“This threatens to break the very trust of this group! If I’m not a suspect, you should tell me when you act in secret.”

You swallow thickly and shift your weight awkwardly, the images of your very public makeout the other day now flooding your mind. The lack of your own honesty with the group leaves you biting your tongue and remaining silent. 

“Your son may have access to the information you have; this was done to prevent any suspicion and it worked.” L replies cooly, not needing Matsuda to hold him back.

“And if you told me, I could’ve done more to figure out why she visited! Because of that, Light looks even more guilty without having the opportunity to explain anything!”

Ryuzaki sighs slightly. “We will give him ample time to clear his own name with his actions, but for now please calm down– you need to act rationally.”

Mr. Yagami tilts his head down and Aizawa keeps him steady for a moment before the chief exhales slowly and sinks into the sofa. Defeat written on his face, the older man looks down at his hands with a forlorn expression. 

“I’m sorry for my outburst everyone… I didn’t mean to question the trustworthiness of this group… It’s just hard to hear you speak so casually that my son could be–” his words die before he can even say ‘Kira.’

Aizawa moves to sit back down and the lingering tension in the air hangs with less intensity than before. Matsuda takes a deep breath and sits beside the chief as Mogi stands in an awkward and apologetic silence in front of the TV.

You slowly leave your original position from beside Ryuzaki and catch his gaze for a moment before returning to your spot on the couch; the small moment of eye contact isn’t lost on your company either.

“You’ve been acting in secret…but also have been vulnerable with us, Ryuzaki.” Mr. Yagami looks up, a calmer expression on his face. “I’m grateful you’ve been able to be honest about your relationship… and I understand that some acts in finding Kira may require a bit more privacy. Please, forgive my outburst.”

Ah, shit.

Your heart strings tug when your mentor offers you a somber look that you can’t quite discern and Ryuzaki stares at you from his seat. It’s awkward and uncomfortable, but you offer a small smile and shrug your shoulders slightly.

“I completely understand your feelings Mr. Yagami. I will keep them in mind as we continue our mission.” L offers before looking back to the group.

You squirm in your seat, feeling like utter shit as the next steps of the plan are being discussed. 

“I’ll keep my public appearances to an even stricter minimum than before.” Ryuzaki begins, taking a fresh mug of tea since his other one was knocked to the floor a few moments ago. “If Miss Amane has this… ‘power’ to kill with a name and face, I’ll have to only leave the headquarters under extremely coordinated events. You all should consider the same.”

Matsuda looks at the file notes on the woman before raising his gaze to examine you; a lighter tone in his voice as he attempts to dissolve any remaining tension. “Ha! That might make date night awkward huh, y/n!”

You pause, the documents frozen in your hands as a hot blush spreads across your face. “Oh, yea! Haha… definitely will make it a bit harder.”

A forced laugh escapes your lips as the other members roll their eyes at his attempt at humor; you turn your attention to Ryuzaki who sits completely complacent with the task force discussing your ‘relationship’. In a poor attempt at morse code, you blink a few times as signal to help you out. 

He tilts his head for a moment before finally catching on and sitting up straighter to place his mug back on the table. “O-Oh, right! Our love life will take a hit, but lucky for us– y/n and I usually enjoy our time spent here in privacy.”

…

The room is dead silent except for the small clatter of a ceramic dessert plate Ryuzaki picks up from the coffee table. How in the world he managed to make the atmosphere WORSE is beyond you. 

Matsuda coughs slightly and awkwardly looks towards the bedroom door on the other side of the room. “You mean like… when you guys go in there?”

Maybe you should’ve just gone to Aoyama anyway and took your chances with the Second Kira’s wrath and L’s disappointment. Because being dead sounds a lot better than being here right now. 

You raise your hands up in defense, silently wondering what karma you must have to be in this situation. “No! We don’t do anything in there–”

“Yes, please be rest assured that y/n and I do not do anything intimate there…” Ryuzaki interrupts before taking a bite of his pastry. “–while the group is here of course.”

Silence falls on the group once more and Mr. Yagami can’t bring himself to make eye contact with you; Aizawa looks slowly between you and L in horror. “So… you guys do it in there once we leave?”

“Is that why you always leave last, y/n?” Mogi asks quietly. 

Your words choke in your throat and you turn to Ryuzaki who gives you a neutral expression; there’s not an ounce of worry on his face as his large eyes slowly blink at you as if you were describing the weather.

“What? N-No! We just… I uhhh…” You take a deep breath. “Can we get back to catching Kira?”

“Yes, please.” Mr. Yagami immediately sighs and keeps his gaze on the papers in his hands. 

“Of course. We can’t arrest Misa right away anyways– it would be best to give Light some time to prove his innocence and for us to construct a place that could even hold the Second Kira if it is Ms. Amane.” L explains cooly, gazing at the older man. “Mogi will still be asked to trail your son, if that’s alright.”

Mr. Yagami sighs but nods regardless. “I understand, it’s for his own good.”

You nod slowly, your heart still pounding in your chest as a hot blush remains tattooed to your cheeks. 

“So… we keep this a secret from him for a bit? At least until we gain something that could prove a lack of connection to Misa?” Matsuda asks, flipping through her headshots. 

“Precisely. We will tell him about the tapes and our analysis of them, but Misa and the other woman will remain unmentioned for the time being.”

The meeting continues as planned, going through various pieces of evidence against Misa as you draft legal demands from her agent; a ‘drug’s bust’ is the guise the group has decided on using. Gentle rain from earlier picks up into a storm similar to that of last night and thunder roars outside as the group passes around various papers and evidence bags amongst each other.

You finish reviewing a final explanation of the most recent Second Kira tape once more before the power flicks slightly. A few whistles escape the men as the lights come back on and crashes of thunder shake the window panes.

Moving to place your annotated papers back on the table, a shrill ringtone emits from your bag. A sheepish apology at Ryuzaki as you forgot to put it on mute, you move to decline it before raising an eyebrow at the caller ID.

“It’s Light.”

Mr. Yagami looks up at you and then peers at his watch. “He’s running 20 minutes behind…”

Ryuzaki motions for you to answer and you lift the device to your ear and repack your bag. “Light? What’s up?”

“Ah, y/n I’m glad you answered. I’m still on campus.”

You pause and look up at the wall clock, eyes wide in shock as you stand upright. “Still? I thought your classes were done almost an hour ago.”

“Several metro lines are down from the storm, apparently there was an accident at a major transfer station.”

“So, you’re not coming tonight?” You shrug when the group gives you a concerned look.

“I don’t think so.. Agh this is so frustrating. I don’t want to inconvenience Ryuzaki or my father about filling me in either….”

You pause and take the phone from its tucked spot on your shoulder and flip it to rest against your opposite ear. “That’s alright, I can let you know what you missed.”

“Really? You’re a lifesaver y/n.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m sure you’d do the same for me anyways.”

“I’ll take you to that dessert place not far off campus, my treat.”

The offer makes you pause slightly, blinking slowly as his invitation catches you off guard. It’s not like you’ve never gone to cute cafes or gotten lunch– the both of you used to do it regularly when you worked alongside his father under regular hours– but there’s a weird feeling in your gut that’s not describable.

“Y-You don’t have to do that…” Ryuzaki’s eyes follow your every movement and he listens intently to each phrase that leaves your lips.

“I want to though… take it as a token of appreciation. But if you’re too busy to go through the meeting notes… I can always ask Matsuda, I suppose.”

You shake your head as if he could see your body language and sigh slightly into the receiver, brushing off the strange anxiety that creeps on your shoulders. “It’s fine, that plan works for me. I have a 2 hour break tomorrow anyways.”

The group watches in silence and shrugs amongst themselves as they raise eyebrows at the content of the conversation. When you end the call and slide the phone back into your bag, all eyes are on you.

Mr. Yagami sits forward. “Is Light ok?”

You reach for your coffee mug and down half the contents. “Huh? Oh yea, his train line is closed for the storm so he’s just going to head home.”

You lean back in your seat and Ryuzaki purses his lips slightly, he moves to speak but waits a moment. “Let’s take a short recess. All of you confirm your ways home are not compromised and then we can wrap up this meeting early considering the weather.”

Hums of approval break out and the men separate to call home, check traffic reports, and monitor the transit line closures. Ryuzaki stands and motions to follow him; he pauses at the bedroom door and opts to awkwardly shuffle into the kitchen area when Aizawa shoots him a concerned glance. 

You pivot to stand beside him and shiver when a few of the other men raise a slight eyebrow before returning to their phone calls. “What’s going on? Why can’t we just–”

“What else did Light say?” Ryuzaki interrupts and whispers in a hushed tone.

Blinking, you look behind to ensure you’re out of earshot and shrug slightly. “He asked if I could go over the meeting notes of tonight so he wouldn’t inconvenience you or his dad.”

“Right–” L rolls his eyes slightly and scoffs. “Anything else?”

“Mmm, he offered to take me to a dessert cafe as payment.”

“And you accepted?”

You pause slightly and keep your eye on the distance of the other members to your conversation. ���Yea? Why wouldn’t I–” oh.

You suck in your lower lip awkwardly while Ryuzaki narrows his eyes. “Please think these things through thoroughly. It’s obvious he’s onto us, and he’s looking for an opening to wedge himself into.”

It’s not exactly your best moment, but you offer a slight defense. “It’s not something that’s inherently damning. Going with a man who isn’t my uh… ‘boyfriend’ is weird, but it’s Light. We’ve already gone to cafes and such platonically, so if he’s trying to prove something here, it won’t work.”

Ryuzaki’s glare narrows slightly at your mention of previous excursions with the man, but concedes the point. “Regardless, we need to ensure that ‘this’ remains stable; our lives are on the line.”

You nearly roll your eyes at the constant reminder but nod in agreement nonetheless. “I’m aware, but what else is there to prove? The group already knows we're together.”

“We need to make it more believable.”

Pausing slightly, you open your eyes in shock. “More believable? How do we even manage that? It would be… something that would happen privately.” A blush spreads across your face and your voice lowers quietly. 

“That’s fine then, we’ll have one of them walk in on us.”

…what.

“W-wait..and what exactly are they going to be walking in on?”

Ryuzaki blinks once, the implication of his suggestion now warming his cheeks a pale pink. “Well… a couple-thing I suppose. We’ll have to draft a plan about it– If Light is successful in proving that we aren’t actually dating but instead plotting his arrest behind everyone's back… the entire task force dynamic will crumble.”

A heavy weight pushes on your shoulders and you bite your lip in thought. “I know, I know. But having someone… walk in will require a careful plan on our part if we’re actually going to do this.”

L has seemingly no issue with the risk of mortification at your colleagues walking in on the two of you potentially “fucking” and the air escapes your lungs in exhaustion. There’s no way this conversation is real, and thunder roars overhead as you silently attempt to wake yourself up from this dream. Before you can offer another suggestion, a cough rings out awkwardly as Mogi signals that the group is ready to resume. 

You offer a polite smile and pivot next to Ryuzaki as you walk back to your seat. “Just.. give me some time to think about it ok?”

The meeting resumes as it had prior; finalizing a plan for Sakura TV to be wary if any more tapes arrive, requesting Misa’s upcoming schedules from her agent, and drafting a request to the dessert cafe in Aoyama for their interior CCTV access.

The rain picks up and the wind howls beyond the window panes with lightning occasionally painting the interior hotel walls with a pale glow. Watari collects residual coffee cups from the table and offers to prepare another pot before the group sleepily declines.

You flip through the credit card statements of Misa while idly replaying the invitation Light offered over the phone. The more you considered it, the more you tried to convince yourself you were simply overthinking. The fact he had called you and not his father isn’t inherently strange, but it does leave an uneasy feeling in your gut.

Digging your chin into the casual university sweatshirt you adorn, you silently take in your own outfit. Coming straight from class, you forwent changing into your professional clothes and sit at the meeting in a pair of jeans with a ribbed white tee under your crewneck. It would seem out of place if Ryuzaki wasn’t sitting in his usual spot dressed equally as comfortably; on instinct he looks up from his own papers and meets your gaze before you peel your eyes back down.

Another 45 minutes go by until the yawns of the group cannot be suppressed by the thunder and Ryuzaki looks up to adjourn the meeting for the night. Despite it being earlier than your usual evenings, fatigue is evident on the faces of everyone. 

Tired limbs stretch upright and slowly pack their belongings as the men bundle up and check the window to prepare for the inclement weather outside. Sliding a few folders into your bag, you pause when Watari offers you your jacket. “Actually, can I speak with you Ryuzaki?” You turn towards the man as he peers out the window at the rain.

“Of course.”

Aizawa slings his messenger bag over his shoulder and looks between the both of you with a concerned glance before staring at the bedroom door on the other side of the room.

You roll your eyes. “Not for that.” you turn back to L; his attention now fully on you. “I have an assignment and it’s about a case you worked on.”

Aizawa seems content with the explanation and gives Matsuda a slight nudge when the men slowly file out of the hotel suite. L tilts his head slightly, “Which case? BB murder? Or maybe–”

When the door clicks shut you exhale slightly with a light chuckle. “There is no assignment.”

“...Oh.”

Placing your bag back down in front of the couch, you pivot to walk back towards the bedroom at the other end of the room. “I actually have an idea that could work… regarding what we spoke about earlier. If someone hears this, I doubt they’ll question us being together.”

Even saying it outloud is enough to make your ears red. When you initially joined the task force, you assumed it would wrap up with the swift arrest of Kira while each of the men wrote you glowing letters of recommendation– not with you opening the bedroom door of L’s suite and ushering him inside for a private meeting, still miles away from catching the serial killer.

“Watari, can you assist with this actually?”

The older gentleman walks around from his position at the kitchen counter, gently stacking dirty dishes before he arrives in the living room. “Of course, y/n. What can I assist with?”

Saying the request is mortifying, but it’s not like you have many options at this point anyways. A deep breath in, you gesture to the room. “Can you just stay out here? Not super close to the door, but maybe by the couches? I want to see something.”

The man nods once and retreats to the coffee table to organize the glassware there and you motion for Ryuzaki to enter the bedroom. 

It’s awkward, more than you want it to be. L walks inside and looks expectedly at you as your hands click the door shut; shuffling to the side of the bed, you release a long exhale. “Ok, I was thinking about what you said earlier… about the uhh ‘next step’ and I’m ready with a plan.”

Ryuzaki’s eyes widen in surprise, an expression of shock you’re not sure you’ve ever seen. He coughs slightly and looks between you and the bed, taking a moment to digest what was happening. 

“Oh, I see. To be honest I thought you would need more time… and I’m not exactly prepared for this..” He walks over and runs his hands over the fabric of the comforter to ground himself. “I’m not exactly the most experienced, but I’m ready.”

You stand still, frozen as he then slowly leans forward.

Huh.

HUH.

You sputter and lift your hands. “Wait– what?”

“What.” Ryuzaki immediately parrots and leans back to his previous position. 

“What… are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” He repeats once more.

Blinking slightly and raising an eyebrow at his behavior, you tilt your head in suspicion but brush it off. “Uh, let me explain the plan first, yea?”

Ryuzaki nods in the least-casual forced-casual manner possible. “Yes, of course.”

You scoff lightly in amusement but a grin works its way onto your lips regardless. “Alright, you’re going to need some acting skills for this.”

Without waiting for his answer, you kick off your shoes and climb onto the bed. Sitting near the pillows, you place your hand on the wall and knock once or twice before humming in approval; Ryuzaki stands motionless beside you. “I’m having slight difficulty following your lead, y/n.”

“Patience–” you shush him.

He closes his lips and swallows slightly, Adam’s apple bobbing as he remains frozen in place. Rocking your weight forward slightly, you push the headboard of the bed into the adjacent wall and hum in satisfaction when a ‘thud’ rings out from the motion. Taking a moment to test the movement, you sway to a steadier rhythm and nudge the wooden furniture against the wall over and over again.

Swallowing any remaining pride, you look away from the man next to you and open your mouth to release an awkwardly forced moan. “Aaahhhh–”

This is fucking ridiculous. 

A chuckle almost escapes Ryuzaki’s lips, but it passes as a mixture of a cough and gruff exhale; you slow down to a halt and look at him with cheeks bright red in embarrassment and frustration. “

What?” you seethe at him in frustration; actions coming to a halt. 

He glances at the way your hands remain firmly grasped to the headboard and tightens his lips into a tight line. “You need to make it believable.”

His response isn’t one you expect, and in your state of surprise, you peel backwards off the headboard and sit still in the center of the bed. “Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Clearly amused but pretending not to be, he climbs onto the plush comforter and gives you a knowing look. “Seriously? The only people who make noises like that are adult film actors on set– there’s no way it would convince a room of trained detectives that you were…enjoying yourself.”

You open your mouth for a moment before shutting it in defeat. Sure he has a point, but it’s not like you could casually give the performance of a lifetime while being fully clothed and a respectful 5 feet apart.

A huff escapes you as he walks on his knees up to the base of the headboard and does a few sample taps against the wall. “And how else would you like me to sound–”

“Let’s focus on the task at hand.” He interrupts, changing the topic slightly.

Relinquishing the subtle dig at your acting skills, you pivot to stand up and give a few jumps to the mattress. 

God this is so damn childish. The act of being caught doing this would be worse than actually being caught having sex with him. 

Wait. what. 

The joint act of him swinging the bed into the wall while you hop up and down makes you recall a variety of undergraduate memories you wished would stay hidden. Banging against the wall, fake and forced moans, and the very real company only separated by plaster and drywall makes you cringe.

Ryuzaki doesn’t seem to mind any of it, remaining silent as he throws his shoulder into the swing and jerks the furniture forward. You pause and land lightly on your feet; throwing your sweatshirt over your head from the heat, you adjust the white tee underneath and glance at the man underneath you.

“Ok, now you’re not being believable.”

He pauses immediately and looks up at you with a face of frustration. “Hm? What else is there to this…?”

“You’re too quiet. I mean we’re making all this noise but you haven’t made a sound.”

Ryuzaki opens his mouth but promptly shuts it; his mind reeling a million different scenarios as a hot blush spreads across his cheeks. He turns the other way and keeps his lips in a tight line while you raise an eyebrow at his silence.

He gives a few pushes to the bed with half effort, obviously trying to avoid making a sound with his mouth; unconvinced you raise your foot from your standing position above his and kick his side slightly.

“Hey. What are you doing? I thought you said we needed to make this believable.”

He doesn’t answer and continues half-assing his motion; impatient you raise your foot again but slip when he suddenly jerks forward to slide the bed once again.

“Woa– S-SHIT”

You topple forward and crash down onto him in the blink of an eye, silently taking a moment to see if you can feel your limbs still. Regarding yourself unscathed, you look down at the very stunned Ryuzaki who lays directly beneath you. 

“Was this… part of your plan?” He murmurs quietly. 

Stuttering, you sit up straight but he raises his knees behind you to keep you stuck in the base of his lap.

Fuck.

No words can form on your tongue as the position creates a TV static to echo through your mind; surprise turning into intrigue, L looks up at you with a glaze over his eyes and the tug of a smirk on his lips.

“Please use your words, y/n. I might have amazing deductive abilities, but I’m not a mind reader.”

Scoffing you grab the fabric of the comforter in frustration, the fucker was enjoying this. “I didn’t mean to trip.”

“Plans rarely go according to how we expect them to.” He pauses and keeps his gaze on you. “But since you did fall, how would your… plan move forward from here?”

“What?” You mutter incredulously. The whole thing was an accident, but he seems to be interested in watching you squirm more than anything else.

He sits there in a petty silence, expecting you to talk your way out of the situation while your embarrassment turns to frustration. Ok while yes, you would be lying if you said the tension didn’t turn you on at all, the blurred lines of your charade creates a risky situation that should be avoided. 

Kissing at the quad was spontaneous and already pushing the boundaries of what this ‘fake relationship’ currently signified as. Sitting on his lap with no one else in the room was a whole different ball game. 

“You’re overthinking.” His voice cuts through.

You sigh and turn towards the door. “How can I not? It’s not like this situation leaves much up to the imagination if someone were to walk in.”

“Humor me.”

Seriously? 

It feels strange to have the tables turned on you. When you had taken the initiative to kiss him in front of Light, it was Ryuzaki who stood before you completely at your will; sitting above him while his dark eyes bore into yours, trying to push even further made you furrow your brows in contemplation.

The whole thing is fake right? It doesn’t make any sense for him to care so much if Light asks you to a cafe and it makes even less rational sense for him to want to practice getting caught. Catching Kira takes more than playing by the books though, and watching the way his pupils are dilated to the size of saucers makes you begin to want something else. Something more. 

You don’t know what he wants from you at this point, but sitting here, with him, as the storm roars outside and the only thing illuminating the bedroom are the table lamps and moonlight, you decide to act on what you want for once. 

It’s quick, so fast that even Ryuzaki takes a moment to blink before realizing that you were leaning down to kiss his lips. Hands cupping his cheeks, you tilt your head and slide down his thighs bit more to sit in a neat straddle of his lap.

He doesn’t freeze like the time you kissed him on the campus, instead deft hands rest neatly on your waist as he pushes against your mouth with equal force. Your nose tickles his cheek as you move more pressure and you savor the sweet flavor of his lips; his mouth chases yours when you part to tilt your head to the other side. 

It’s hot, and you can feel his cock stiffening in his jeans with every rock of your hips as you both effectively dry hump. Slithering your tongue out slightly, you run a gentle lick across his bottom lip; pulling back when he freezes.

About to end the entire moment in mortification, Ryuzaki slips his index and middle fingers in the belt loops of your jeans to keep you still above him. Panting, he gazes up at you with hazy eyes. “Why do you do that? You did it the other day… on campus. Wh– What does it signify?”

Dark hair tickles his cheeks and his eyes are locked solely on you; the pressure in his jeans rutting against your aching cunt isn’t lost on you either. It feels like you’re suffocating in a tug-of-war between rationality and desire. 

Of course, the urge for more wins.

You wet your bottom lip with your tongue and Ryuzaki shamefully stares at the action while waiting for an explanation. No words leave your mouth; instead you take your thumbs from where they rested on his cheeks and force them between his lips. Taping on his canines once with them, you push his jaw down and lean forward to place your tongue in his mouth.

“Hmpfhh-”

Ryuzaki doesn’t mind being gagged by your tongue; he happily exhales through his nose and tugs you further up on his lap as his erection grinds painfully against the fly of his jeans. You don’t fare much better above him as the saturated mess of your panties leaves a warm and sticky sensation between the plush of your thighs. 

Sugar and black tea is the taste of his tongue as you grind your own against it before exploring his molars and pursuing your lips further to gain more access. Soft groans leave your throat and escape his own lips; no longer sounding like a staged pornoc– but guttural and deep.

Any other person would have their hands on your ass already, but Ryuzaki keeps his hands at a constrained position at your tailbone, as if it was painful for him to keep them still. Remaining a gentleman nonetheless, he doesn’t move them any further. 

It’s bad. The way you grind against him faster and tilt his head back with the force of your mouth. It’s even worse when he pushes you back and a string of saliva connects your lips before snapping.

“Haa.. I see.” He pants, not bothering to discuss his very obvious and raging boner. “So, if I wanted to do that… I would–” Ryuzaki tugs your head back in and sits upright to connect your lips once more. 

He runs his tongue over your lips and in an act of coyness, you don’t bother opening your mouth. Ryuzaki pulls back with an analytical expression before tapping your hip as if he just had a moment of clarity. “Ah, that’s right! You did this…”

Before you can question him, a hand leaves your belt loop and grasps your jaw; his thumb pushes your mouth down to mirror the same motion you did to him. Instantly his lips meet yours as his tongue slithers into your mouth and ruts against yours. 

The temperature of the room is painfully hot, and despite shedding your sweatshirt earlier, you can feel the warmth on your skin. Nipples hard against your bra and back arching in pleasure despite him not even leaving first base. 

Lips against his own and panties completely ruined with each grind against his erection; your puffy clit now aching for more friction as your cunt clenches pathetically from the clothes bulge rutting against it.

You're lost in pleasure until a moment of realization washes over you. You were kissing him.

Yes, you had done this once before–but there was an audience back then, and a point to prove. Right now, there was no one else in the room that this was meant for; each rock of your heads to a matched rhythm was not convincing anyone but yourselves that whatever ‘this’ was, didn’t qualify as casual.

Hands snaking into his hair and tugging slightly, a low reverberation escapes his throat from the sensation and the grip on your waist tightens. Sighing through your nose, you tug harder to pry his head back; the force nearly ripping out his hair from the strength you need to get him off your lips. 

Saliva coats his chin as he looks up at you with hazy eyes; it would be so easy to go even further, but looking at his appearance, you know it’s for the best if it stops here. You sit back slightly but his bent knees keep you close

Has he even been in a relationship? Or done anything for that matter?

It’s wrong. Fake dating, kissing, doing this with someone who obviously has no idea what they’re getting into. Additionally, it probably looks awful on your behalf to have people entertain the idea of you and L being together; you can practically hear the ‘she slept her way to the top’ rumors now. 

“That’s uhh.. What they could walk in on…if we need up the ante..” you offer slowly, with a distant voice. 

Ryuzaki takes the pause to breathe deeply and nods once; his eyes bore into your face with concern and awkwardness. It doesn’t take much effort for him to read the way your face is torn in a mixture of disappointed emotions. 

A million sentences of affirmation for his decision to commit to ‘this’ cross his mind; instead he settles on, “I see.”

You swallow dryly and swing around to tap his knees which he immediately unbends to allow you to swing off his lap and hop off the bed. Ryuzaki remains laying down, his eyes never leaving your figure as you bend down to lace up your sneakers. 

This feels ridiculous. The act of tying your shoes is akin to getting dressed after a one night stand while the guy tries to decide if he should order you an Uber or not. 

“Watari is probably going to be concerned.” You say in a weak attempt to lighten the mood.

L sits up slightly and glances at his crotch with a grimace; you take the hint to turn around while he adjusts himself. 

“Don’t feel bad about it– I’m sure if any one was on your lap like that… it would happen.”

It’s an attempt to make him feel better, but the words leave a bitter taste in your mouth, as if picturing him with another person wasn’t fair. 

“I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable… I didn’t mean to push you earlier for an explanation of your uh… plan.” He apologizes from behind you.

You spin back around and notice his long shirt now covering the erection he’s tucked into the elastic band of his boxers and shrug. “No, it was wrong of me to make such an intense move on you without warning.”

Ryuzaki blinks and shakes his head. “That’s alright. We need ‘this’ to be realistic considering our lives are on the line if Misa really is the Second Kira.”

Pursing your lips, you exhale slowly and nod; your gaze locked on the carpet of the room. 

L stands beside you and opens and closes his hands in an awkward fidget. He’s never been one for honesty, communication, or vulnerability and the tension of the moment makes him falter. “I don’t regret doing this, y/n. But if you have second thoughts or regrets… I won’t hold them against you.”

You continue staring at the corner of the room for a moment before gathering the courage to look back over at the man and drink in his disheveled appearance. Despite your brain telling you to end this stupid charade now, your heart keeps your feet firmly planted next to him. 

“I don’t regret this, Ryuzaki. I don’t regret you.”

He opens his eyes wider, and searches your face for any sign that you were simply saying that to protect his ego. Not finding any, he smiles gently and nods. “That’s good to hear.”

You both stand in silence, neither one of you bringing up the fact that what just happened defied all aspects of what a fake relationship really is; the fear that calling it out would end the entire agreement prevents you from opening your mouth. 

“I guess we’ll just have to do that if Light manages to cast some doubt on us.” Ryuzaki offers while sliding his hands into the front pocket of his jeans. 

You chuckle, enjoying the break in the atmosphere and nudge his shoulder slightly. “Riiight. Maybe it’ll come in handy sometime.”

Ryuzaki’s stance is lighter, enjoying your eased expression, and heads for the bedroom door. “Yes, indeed. Maybe we should… continue practicing sometime? It would be best to not be caught unprepared after all.”

You step out of the room and pause while looking at the man. It’s an unspoken offer; an invitation to keep doing this without actually addressing the underlying implication of everything. You’re convinced he’s never been in a relationship before, but he seems to be an expert at creating a situationship; settling for the ease of not having to do the ‘what are we actually’ conversation, you nod. “That sounds nice.”

Watari fluffs a few pillows and places the TV remote neatly next to a decorative candle on the coffee table before looking up at the both of you. Approaching the living room, you move to sling your bag over your shoulder while the older man looks between you both.

“Ah, you’ve finished. Was I able to be of assistance?”

Your face flushes and you run a hand casually through your hair. “Well that depends… what did you hear?”

Watari places the last fluffed pillow into the loveseat L usually sits at and stands upright. “Some minor commotion from the walls, but nothing else.” He turns to Ryuzaki. “Will we need new furniture? Or to switch suites?”

Mortification creeps back in but L simply shakes his head and peers out the window to the storm still raging outside. “That won’t be necessary. Thank you.”

Shuffling to the door you turn back to L who follows you to the entrance. “So we’re keeping the ‘notebooks’ a secret still too?”

“Yes, until we can get Misa in custody and question her direction. We’ll need her schedule from her manager first though.”

You nod, watching the way Watari retrieves the Mercedes keys and pivots into the hallway to give you and Ryuzaki another moment of space. 

“So… guess I’ll see you later? Not on campus, but here I suppose?”

“Yes, for the time being I can’t risk leaving the headquarters.”

You nod and tighten the straps of your bag, not wanting to leave but also knowing it’s late enough already. “Right, that’s a good idea…”

“Are you alright?” 

Defensively backing up, you blush at being called out so blatantly. “Yea. Sorry, I’ll head out now.”

“That’s not what I said.” He interrupts, shutting the front door when you try to open it. “Tell me what’s wrong. Please.”

You startle backward slightly and peer at him. “Nothing’s wrong. I’ve just got a lot on my mind…”

Ryuzaki releases his pressure keeping the door shut but doesn’t stop staring at your face as you shuffle into the hallway; Watari stands at the elevator at the end, keeping the door open.

He’s unconvinced but lets you take a few steps into the hallway. It’s a dumb move on your part given the complicated nature of this relationship, but you can’t fight the urge to spin around and plant a small kiss on the apple of his cheek.

His face breaks into a bright blush and he brings a few fingers to touch the spot in awe. Despite being significantly tamer than the makeouts you’ve already had, it’s the first kiss you’ve shared outside of fake pretense.

You give a slight wave to Ryuzaki and spin back around to power walk to the elevator to the awaiting older man, eager to go home, shower, and contemplate the meaning of your life. By the time the doors shut, you exhale all the air in your lungs and ignore the gentle laugh Watari releases as he bemusingly watches your expression.

~~~~~

L POV

A grin spreads across his lips as he watches the way you toss your bag over your head to shield yourself from the rain as you run into the passenger seat of the car. He knows Watari probably offered you an umbrella, and that you probably refused it on the assumption the rain wasn’t that bad.

Emotions that have rarely, if ever, stir inside Ryuzaki’s chest as he watches the car purr to life and slowly pull out of the hotel parking lot and disappear down the road. What was he doing again? Ah, right– catching Kira. 

It’s the main priority at the forefront of his mind, but his heart pulls him in another direction. Watari gives him knowing glances everytime your name is mentioned and the way Light has seemingly caught on to the ‘charade’ places him in an uncomfortable situation.

Sighing in exhaustion, he walks back over to the edge of the bed and sits down idly before flopping his back onto the plush mattress. The world famous detective L would break off this silly relationship and move freely– not caring if a member of his group had unfortunately been put at risk. He wasn’t heartless, he didn’t want members of the team to die, but he didn’t have a reason to go out of his way to protect you. L would never act so irrationally. 

But as to the book as L was, Lawliet was still a man. A man with follies, ambitions, hopes, and dreams, and love. He was persuaded by his heart as much as his brain, despite his best attempts to seal off the temptations of emotions as best as he could. The sound of your voice is similar to that of a siren calling a sailor; he knows that this is bad.

Thunder roars again outside, and Ryuzaki sits upright with a tight feeling in his chest. If things were different, if maybe you were work colleagues at a normal job, or if Kira was caught already, he could figure out how to put it into words– how the way he wanted you was real. But he can’t; at least not now. 

The image of you is painting in his mind so vividly, he wants to shut his eyes forever if it meant he could see it for eternity. The movement of your hips, the flick of your tongue, the way you kissed him for the second– no third time now had to mean something. 

Ryuzaki blinks and turns his attention to the window pane once more, taking in the glow of lightning that flashes outside inbetween crashes of thunder. It’s the first time in his life he wants to be completely honest, so he can kiss you and touch you in a way that shows it’s real.

Pursing his lips, he knows the situation is bad, even worse considering his self restraint is wearing thinner and thinner each time your mouth latches onto his. He’s ok with it though, convincing himself that he’s ok with a fake relationship if it means he gets to keep you to himself and call you his even if you weren’t.

L would never act like this, but Lawliet sighs and notices the small bundle of your sweatshirt fabric thrown on the floor from earlier. Taking it in his hands, he can smell the scent of your usual perfume and he clenches his jaw in self disgust.  Tomorrow, L would file the needed documents for constructing a cell with enough precautions to hold Misa in confinement upon her arrest next week; tonight, Lawliet does a mental estimate of the time it takes Watari to drop you off and come back before unzipping the fly of his jeans.

a/n time: also the artwork at the top is mine (i usually post fanart on a separate account but i drew that for this series hehe)

YIPPEE just in time for valentine's day hehe

this is my longest chapter to date omg what is a process to make. I was really unsure if wanted to go forward with the 'lets make fake sex sounds' kinda trope, but decided it would be good considering how I want the next chapter to go -> aka Miss Misa gets to finally appear hehe

also sorry but yall in a situationship now and both men are rude af and master manipulators

anywayssss i love seeing ur comments on these, it literally makes my day (and lmk if you want to join the tag list)

comments/likes/reblogs all appreciated <333

-oatmeal

tags: @lechatparle24 @irissfoot @iheteeaifs @automaticpatroltragedy @greenapplesaucepi @thesimpnovao @leiiilaaaa

[baffledandbewildered]

“I have a hypothetical,” Evi4 says.

The statement is a bit… random, but Betty doesn’t mind that. Evi is a little random, sometimes - she loves it about him.

“Sure? What’s up?”

Evi frowns, looks up at where Nara and Aster are talking. “I don’t want to…” He grabs Betty’s hand and drags her a little behind the Jest house, far enough away that the conversation is almost indistinguishable.

Evi4 isn’t usually this… serious. Betty knows they can be serious if needed, if necessary, she knows that better than most, but… it’s still weird. Discomforting. 

Betty doesn’t say anything, just gives them time to gather their words, and eventually they start speaking.

“If you were in a situation where - you have to kill either me or Void,” Evi says haltingly. “Who would you choose? Killing Void would - obviously have a lot of consequences.”

Betty can’t help but laugh. “What? Evi - we’ve literally - we’ve killed Void? Why would I choose his life over yours?”

“Killing Void would be dangerous though.”

“I don’t care. I’m not killing you.”

“That’s the wrong decision,” Evi mutters.

They - she can’t help but feel they’re having completely different conversations here.

“It’s - it’s not, Evi I love you why would I - no. I wouldn’t do that.”

“You should.”

“No.”

“Ugh. You’re so weirddd Betty.”

“I don’t think I am for not wanting to kill my fiance…” she says, but doesn’t want to argue the point further.

The two of them go back to Nara and Aster and rejoin the conversation like nothing has happened, but the thought still weighs on Betty’s mind. She’s not sure what just happened, and it’s… odd.

But it’s easy to forget, with the chaos of this day - Twirps is a VIP, five of Pathogen are online - Twirps wants to fight all of them, because of course, and while everyone’s trying to prepare she and Evi notice most of the team in the Red Light District.

Evi’s been casting hungry glances in that direction for a little while, creeping closer and closer - they’re going to get spotted, so Betty runs over, trying her best to keep out of sight herself, and splashes invis on them.

“Good luck!” she whispers. “Please don’t get killed.”

“I won’t!” Evi says and Betty watches the faint trail of particles disappear into the cave.

I’m gonna try steal something Evi messages her, and Betty holds back a giggle - she’s not going to move far away from the cave just in case something goes wrong, so she really doesn’t want to be overheard - she’s not the best with potions, and as such is currently also invisible - not the most innocent look, even if she’s not actually doing anything.

Of course, the invis still hasn’t faded when she gets another message on her communicator. 

okay so I might have been spotted

Oh gods. Betty types back: okay I’ll go talk to them, try to distract them, please try to leave

DONT DO THAT OH MY GODDDD

Evi4 is so - protective. It’s endearing, but also - this situation - it’s uncomfortably familiar to their messages on the day they killed Void, when Evi was spawntrapped, Evi refusing to tell her what was going on because he knew that Betty would gladly get herself killed if it meant Evi was okay - 

So Betty’s not listening to him now, and instead she runs into the cave, waving at Cog and Void and Arch. She’s… still invisible, which is awkward, and she’s pretty sure they know exactly what she’s doing but no one tries to jump Evi even when he starts rifling through one of Pathogen’s shulkers, Cog even gives her a very brief tour, and before she knows it she and Evi are both running back to main spawn, giggling.

“Success!” Evi says, showing her what they managed to steal.

“Yay it was worth it then,” Betty says. “Oh my god that was terrifying but hey I can - I can de-escalate situations!”

“You’re awful at de-escalating situations - that was so stupid Betty oh my god -”

Betty laughs. “Maybe. I don’t care though.”

“You should.”

“The important thing to me is that you’re alive. I doubt they would have killed me anyway.”

“Ugh. You’re so stupid sometimes BettyIsBaffled oh my god we should get divorced -”

“Now wait a second!” Betty says, and within seconds they’re off-topic again.

The next day finds her giving Evi nearly an entire stack of anvils - she’d joked, yesterday, about it being an appropriate apology for Betty getting Evi spawnkilled all those weeks ago for the minecarts, and - well. The guilt of that weighs heavy on her still, and though she knows the comment wasn’t serious she still wants to - 

She renames them, too. For Evi <3. 

It’s not much of an apology, not much of a gift, but Evi squeals in delight the moment she realises what she’s been given, then presses a brief kiss to Betty’s cheek, hugging her tightly. 

On a whim, Betty asks Evi to kill her with the mace - she ends up dying twice, the second time more accidental than not, but it’s fun - and she can’t bring herself to mourn the lost levels when each time she returns Evi gives the heart back with a kiss.

They spend the rest of the day doing… very little. At one point, Evi brings up ‘the hypothetical’ from yesterday - they argue it again, only briefly, and Evi stops talking entirely for a long moment when Betty says fondly - “You’re so self sacrificing.”

She’s not wrong, but she’d never thought of it like that before - Evi is, so, painfully self-sacrificing - not for many people, maybe, but he is. She loves that about him. 

They’re sitting on top of the arena, looking out over spawn when Evi brings it up again.

“I’m curious about the - thing you said earlier,” they say slowly.

“Huh?”

“The - self-sacrificing comment. Can you explain that?”

“Oh! Yeah, yeah I - I can explain -”

But - of course - it’s that moment when Seri appears and once again the thread of conversation is lost. But they have fun! Seri and Evi are… an interesting duo, Aster joins them at one point, the top of the Arena maybe gets broken a little but they manage to fix it… then Evi decides they wanna try and kill Katamari.

If it was anyone else, Betty would be hesitant. But she knows how well Evi fights and well. Katamari. So she gives Evi her axe and a good luck kiss and waits for chaos to unfold.

evi4 whispers to you: they won’t stay still this is so annoying i don’t know whether to call this off

You whisper to evi4: you could try jump off the mangroves?

You whisper to evi4: but it’s up to you if you think it’s too dangerous its not worth it

You whisper to evi4: just stay alive

And Evi… does. He manages to hit Mari with the mace, but they escape, then Void shows up and the pair of them fight for a bit then Evi runs and gods Betty feels like she could cry from relief - she’s so happy for him. Both for the fights - they were awesome - but also for leaving when he realised he couldn’t win, not fighting till the end - she and Evi have spoken about this before, how pride isn’t worth it sometimes, not if it gets you killed -

She’s so happy.

For a while after, they just… hang out at spawn. Void shows them the strip club, Evi digs holes in his walls, Betty tries her best not to fall asleep - turns out dying twice to a mace in ten minutes leaves you incredibly tired, or maybe it’s just her poor sleep schedule - still, it’s a fun day, honestly. 

The next afternoon, Evi asks Betty to join her at Animal Crossing Village - she’s working on getting backup gear, she says, and Betty’s down an axe from yesterday’s shenanigans so for a little while the two of them trade with villagers, talking about anything and everything.

It’s - strangely domestic. Making gear alongside someone else… it’s nice. She’s done this with Nara, the day after she and Evi killed Void, a few other times after that, but before that… a long time ago. Maybe the day after the Gameshow, when she and Sunset were…

It’s nice to have company. It’s fun - especially when the two of them get distracted going through their shulkers - “Why do I have 14 stacks of iron blocks in here?” - or Evi traps her in a corner, only to get flustered when Betty flirts back and mine the blocks under him, falling into the basement with an embarrassed yelp - at one point Evi asks her to spawn an iron golem so he can mace practise, then digs through the rusted corpse to hand her the poppy at its heart and Betty holds it so tightly she’s afraid the fragile stem will break.

Neither of them are particularly good at staying on task but it’s just. Good. It’s nice not to be alone.

At some point, they end up talking about dying - “You’ve killed me more than anyone else has, I think,” Betty muses, pulling up her statistics. “Uhh. Sin, Cog, Blue/arrow-cannon, creeper, Pollocks, Void, you, you again with the carts, Void again, Nara, then you again twice yesterday - I’m missing a death, what am I missing -”

There are four of her deaths now at Evi’s hands (do the minecarts count -?) and that’s - it’s a nice thought. She likes that she gets to choose. She likes… it’s a promise, isn’t it? Dying for someone, choosing to let them kill you... I trust you with my life, with my heart. 

“Imagine being able to remember your deaths…” Evi says wonderingly.

“Not all of them,” Betty says absentmindedly, still trying to work out what she’s forgetting, then she pauses. “Oh -”

The last she heard, Evi had died 170 times… and it’s been a little while since then.

But Evi just giggles and bats lightly at her arm, quickly moving the conversation on to something else. Betty still feels guilty.

It’s evening when they decide to go back to spawn - Evi shows her the hidden respawn point he’s made on the way, and when she realises she hugs him tightly - she’s been asking for so long for Evi to be more careful of where he respawns. Maybe he’s feeling the same way she is - things are happening, now, dangerous things, the end of the season is in sight, they all need to be a bit more careful - or maybe he just wants to have a safe space to recover after a death. It doesn’t matter. She’s happy regardless.

They end up going to Sniffer Island. Betty lets herself fall dramatically onto the grass under one of the trees, and after a moment’s hesitation Evi sits down next to her. There are so many flowers here - Betty had thought she’d never want to see a sniffer again after the nightmare she’d had kidnapping Snorb, but this is nice. Peaceful.

“Oh!” she says, turning a little so she can see Evi. “I never - did I ever explain the - self-sacrifice comment? You asked, but -”

“No…”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes!”

Betty pauses, then sits up, anxiously flexing her hands a little. She stares out at the ocean, trying to put her thoughts into words - this is important, she thinks.

“When - after we killed Void, that time. You got spawnkilled. And I was - I was messaging you saying if they - if they’d be willing to let you go, if I let them kill me, I’d be fine with that. You wouldn’t let me. You yelled at me. Even before - you wanted to take the blame for killing Void - you told me to lie, claim it was an accident, that you found us talking. Or when you were trapped in the obsidian box - or even the other day, when you were trying to steal from Pathogen in the Red Light District - you’re so worried about my life, without thinking of your own - and I appreciate it, I do, I - gods, I love you so much but - you don’t have to -” 

She stops herself from saying anything more - she’s probably said enough. She darts a look at Evi - they’re not looking at her, and she can’t read their expression. Eventually, they turn to face her, but still won’t meet her eyes.

“I just -” they start, then pause. “I just think it’s better for me to die rather than… you having to deal with any consequences. Like I hate dying, obviously, but it’s just - the better decision there.”

“What? Evi -”

He stares hard at the grass. “I think - me dying has less of an effect over you dying. I have people who can give me heart mats while it actually costs you. I’m already viewed as a weak player. If I die it’s not going to change people’s perspectives of me.”

“I don’t care about - well okay yeah I do but that’s not - that’s not worth it. That’s not - and Evi, I have allies now, you know that, you know there are - you know better than anyone -”

Now he meets her eyes. “When people kill you it means more than if people kill me,” he says quietly.

Betty feels her hearts skip a beat - this is so wrong but she doesn’t know what to say to fix it, doesn’t -

“I’m glad you didn’t die when I got spawnkilled ‘cause I think it would’ve made our connections even worse and maybe more people target us,” Evi continues hurriedly. “I don’t think people view you as weak - even if Cog thinks you’re a coward or something. You are -” She laughs a little. “- still known to trap people very well.”

Betty laughs weakly too - not that well, and Evi knows that, but she appreciates the - confidence in her abilities. 

“I just think people are more willing to give my gear and stuff back,” Evi says. “That’s not something… that you or anyone else - except maybe Seri - have.”

“That’s not - an issue, though - I can grind more gear, I don’t care - that’s not worth your life Evi,” Betty says - oh, she’s crying now, of course - she’s not even sure why. She’s not sure what to say - somewhere along the line she’s missed this, and it is important that they talk about it but she doesn’t know what to say.

Evi laughs - it’s a little bitter, and that’s so wrong because Evi4 isn’t…

“I’m sure if you asked anyone on the server who they’d rather lose a heart it’d be me,” they say. 

Well that’s wrong - Betty goes to interrupt but they shake their head and she stops. 

“Okay, okay yeah maybe there are some people who - want you dead but still,” Evi continues. “Pollocks would obviously care but - I think it’s just something he’s accepted as part of being teamed with me.”

“Evi…”

“I just. I really do think it’s better for me to die than you having to face consequences.”

“But - Evi - you dying is a consequence for me,” Betty says, then wipes the tears from her eyes with shaking hands. “That’s consequences. That’s consequences I - I don’t -”

She can’t bring herself to say anymore - she doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t know how to fix this - she hates the fact Evi thinks so little of himself, that no one respects him the way Betty and Poll do, that Evi believes that -

They’re both silent for a little while.

Eventually, Evi looks at her again. He twists his hands together anxiously, pulling at a loose thread on his dress. “I can try to be less self-sacrificial with you but I want you to know I care a lot about you and think me dying instead of you is better.”

Betty takes a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. Yeah. I - I understand - and you - you understand what - what I mean, right? When I say -”

He nods rapidly.

“Yeah. Okay - and you’ll try. You’ll try - that’s all I can ask.” She smiles at them - she’s still crying, she probably looks a state but Evi smiles back shyly and she can’t bring herself to care. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Yay!” Evi4 says - he’s trying to act like nothing has happened but it’s so obvious that he’s just as - emotional as Betty is - it’s - gods, she loves him.

“Let’s make a heart!” Evi says, jumping to her feet then holding out a hand to pull Betty upright too. She doesn’t let go, either, even as the two of them dig a hole in the surface of the island and place froglights in a heart shape - it makes it a little difficult to build, but Betty appreciates it - it feels like a promise, like Evi’s saying: I’m not going to leave.

Likewise, Betty thinks to herself.

And then they’re standing next to the heart and Evi pauses, turns to face her. It’s dark now, but the moonlight makes their crown shine - they’ve never looked more like royalty, and Betty’s never been the type to care too much about titles but she’d gladly worship them.

Evi takes a deep breath. “I can try to be less self-sacrificial,” Evi repeats, hurried, tripping over the words a little. “I’ve spent most of my time on this server without anyone to rely on properly so I’m sorry if I show my love in odd ways like a piece of diorite or making sure you don’t die even if it costs me a lot.” They stop, take another measured breath. “I hope I’m able to communicate how much I love you even if it’s in something not very typical but I care about you a lot.”

And yep, Betty’s crying again, but she doesn’t move, lets Evi continue speaking.

“I’m very happy we’re allies - I don’t care about a lot of people on this server even if I trust them but I think you’re the only other person besides Pollocks I’d go to the ends of the earth for - you’ve done so much for me I love you a lot.”

“I - gods, Evi4, I love you too - I love you so much, I don’t think - I don’t think I’ll ever really be able to say it enough - gods -” She wipes her eyes on her sleeve, giggling weakly, then tugs at his shoulders until he bends down far enough she can kiss him. “I love you, okay?” she whispers against his lips. “I love you.”

She definitely could never say it enough - it’s - sometimes, when she’s alone, she remembers what she and Evi4 used to be - chasing them away from her herobrine summoner, explosions in her maze - they weren’t even friends at the start, and now -

They both yelp as the nose of a sniffer pushes its way between them, and then they’re giggling, Evi trying to shove the creature away but there’s such fondness in their eyes, and just for a little while Betty allows herself to believe that everything is going to be okay.

[joelmillerisapunk]

Wip Wednesday!

tysm for the tags @thundermartini @probablyreadinsmut @milla-frenchy @sawymredfox @sizzlingcloudmentality <3 Hi hello, I have been a broken record this past month for wips, but I hope to post sooooon.

First and foremost we have the most important one I hope to post today or tomorrow bfd!Joel Miller xbfstepdad!Arthur Morgan x f!reader

Joel curses low and dark, his teeth gritted, his hands gripping your thighs so hard they might bruise. “Christ,” he mutters, voice wrecked, sweat dripping down his temple. “You feel that, baby? Takin’ both of us like you were made for it.”

They move in tandem, one pulling out as the other pushes in, a brutal rhythm that has you seeing stars. The pressure, the stretch, the way they fill you completely—it’s too much, too good.

Joel’s head falls back, a guttural moan tearing from his throat as his hips snap harder, his cock grinding against Arthur’s with every deep stroke. The room is filled with the slap of skin, the ragged sounds of their breathing, the filthy wet sounds of them stretching you to your limit.

Arthur surges forward, gripping the back of Joel’s neck, crashing their mouths together. It’s not soft, not tentative—it’s rough, hungry, desperate. Their teeth clash, tongues fighting for dominance, a messy tangle of breath and sweat and sheer, burning need.

Joel groans into Arthur’s mouth, his hips slamming into you harder, like the kiss fuels him, like he’s trying to fuck you so good Arthur can feel it too. He fists a hand in Arthur’s hair, tugging him closer, deepening the kiss with a low, wrecked sound.

Next we have dbf!joel catching you masterbating

Joel sees your reaction, and his lips curl into something dark and satisfied. He fists himself at the base, stroking once, slow and deliberate. “Go on, sweetheart. Take what you want.” -- "Look at you, darlin’, so fuckin’ needy. You wanted this cock, didn’t ya? Take it like a good girl.”

You moan around him, eyes fluttering shut as you let him use you, let him take what he needs. The way he’s handling you has you dripping between your thighs, heat pooling low in your belly.

“Look at me,” he orders, and you force your eyes open, meeting his gaze. His jaw is tight, his chest heaving, and when he sees your pretty, fucked-out expression, he curses under his breath.

npt (sorry if you have been tagged): @arcanefox207 @evolnoomym @myownwholewildworld @almostfoxglove @slimybeth69 @almostempty @itwasntimethatdidit40 @baronessvonglitter @cxrsed-angel @savedyounine