#because no one ever said it would be easy

[cuntyji]

the first video nanami ever posted was filmed on a shaky phone propped up against a bag of flour.

he was making bread—simple, easy, the kind of thing he found comfort in after long days at work. his hands moved methodically, kneading the dough with a quiet precision, and though he spoke very little, the video was oddly calming.

he hadn't expected much from it. maybe a few views, maybe a couple of people who’d appreciate the lack of unnecessary chatter. but the comments were overwhelmingly positive, people asking about his technique, his recipe, his voice—deep, smooth, effortlessly steady. so he made another video. then another.

it was the late-night upload of him singing "baby one more time" by the marías that changed everything.

filmed on an old macbook with a grainy webcam, the lighting barely enough to make out his face, the video had been an impulse decision—one he almost deleted. it was just him, sitting on his couch, his voice low and hushed, the way he usually sang to lull yuuji to sleep. but the internet clung to it like ivy, twisting and reaching until the video had over a million views by the end of the week.

"who is he." "why is this the most intimate thing i've ever heard in my life." "he looks exhausted and sounds like a dream, i'm in love."

he thought it would pass. but it didn't.

his subscribers doubled overnight. the demand for more was loud, insistent. nanami, being nanami, didn’t rush to meet it. instead, he structured it into his routine: one video a week, a mix of baking and singing—because baking was reliable, and singing had never been something he shared outside of yuuji’s bedtime.

his channel evolved. the baking videos became polished, edited with subtle precision. he switched to voiceovers, explaining each step in that same low, deliberate tone that made people feel like he was speaking just to them. and when he sang, it was always songs that carried a quiet sort of nostalgia.

"he only sings songs he sings to his kid to sleep i’m crying." "his lullabies are better than half the music industry." "i don’t know his name, his age, or his face properly, but i know his banana bread recipe by heart."

nanami never explicitly talked about being a single dad, but it was impossible to miss. yuuji’s voice sometimes made cameos in the background, muffled questions about homework, laughter when nanami burnt the edges of a cake. he didn’t hide it, didn’t play it up. it was just a part of his life, and his audience adored him for it.

his faq video—one of the few times he ever directly addressed personal questions—answered almost nothing.

"are you married?" "no." "how old are you?" "old enough." "what's your name?" "nanami."

the mystery only made people more obsessed.

"i know nothing about him but i’d die for him." "his hands. his voice. his existence." "the fact that he bakes and sings for his kid and still won’t tell us his age is crazy."

he now posted twice a week. one video was always baking, the other was whatever he wanted—sometimes music, sometimes a quiet q&a, sometimes just a video of him making tea while rain hit the windows.

people knew everything and nothing about him at the same time. they knew the exact ratio of brown sugar he preferred in cookies but not what city he lived in. they knew he tucked yuuji in every night with a song but had never seen his full face in a single frame. they knew the precise cadence of his voice when he said “and that’s how you make the perfect loaf” but had never heard him say “i love you”—and yet, somehow, they felt like they had.

the internet had fallen in love with him. and nanami, quietly, without even trying, had changed his life with nothing but flour-dusted hands and the sound of his own voice.

[a-mint-bear]

Comfort Object

Male Yandere x Reader

You see a really weird "job" post online, and the money seems too good to be true. But you aren't really in a position where you can turn it down...

You hope it doesn't get weird.

---

It was a very… concerning “job” posting.

But desperate times, and all that. 

It had shown up about a week ago, and it wasn’t hard to see why no one had taken the poster up on it as of yet. 

Bedmate Needed

● 11 pm to 6 am

● $25/hour up front

● Riverside Motel

● Room 44

● Not a sex thing

The last note seemed tacked on in a later edit, but it was still… not great.

You’d have to be either a gullible idiot or a desperate one to go for a job like this. Unfortunately, you were the latter. Very much so.

You couldn’t take another night on the street. It was getting so cold out. The promise of a warm bed was almost enough to lure you in on its own. But the money… 175 bucks just to sleep in the same bed as some internet creep?

Despite the clarification in the post, this had to be a sex thing, right?

You hadn’t gone that far, despite everything. It’s not like you hadn’t considered it… but the thought was too terrifying. Making yourself completely vulnerable to a stranger that could just decide you were less than a person and do whatever they wanted to you? You had to draw the line somewhere.

But at this point, you weren’t sure that there was a line you weren’t willing to cross anymore. 

. . .

The Motel wasn’t the seediest you’d ever seen around town but it wasn’t a place you would’ve voluntarily stayed at even two months ago. Back when you had options. 

Creepy post guy opened the door after a couple of knocks, with an awkward, pregnant pause between them. He wasn’t quite what you expected for an internet creep, but he was still a sight to see.

Really bad posture and dark, greasy-looking hair, with the darkest circles under his eyes you’d ever seen. He looked like he was about to pass out at any second, but he held it together long enough to gesture you into the room. 

“Hey…” His voice was low but he sounded nervous. And so, so tired. “You’re… You’re a little early. That’s…that’s fine. Uh, come in.”

You felt his eyes on you as you passed him, and it didn’t help your anxiousness. Not one bit. 

“Hey so, I-I really…I uh, need a shower.” He stumbled over his words with a breathy, nervous laugh. “Unless you wanna sleep next to a… fuckin’ sweaty mess all night. Do you wanna go first or…?”

You must’ve looked nervous because his eyes went wider, digging into his pocket.

“I wasn’t tryin’ to… Oh, uh…here.” He nodded, pressing the money into your hand. “Up front, just… just like I said. You just…just seemed like you maybe sorta needed one too.”

Some part of you must’ve still had an ounce of pride left because your whole body felt on fire with shame, embarrassment so consuming that you froze up. It had been a couple of days…

He just looked away, seeming like he was embarrassed himself. 

“I w-wasn’t gonna like… try to join you or peep on you or nothin’!” He tried to assure you, eyes darting in a panic and talking a bit too fast. “If I, like, go first? I won’t get mad if you change your mind and leave… I get it. I’m not gonna like… go after you or call the cops or nothin’ like that. I just…”

He stared at the floor, nails digging into his arm as he seemed like he was having trouble breathing.

“I really… I really need this.” He was so quiet, but his voice was so desperate.

You couldn’t really be considering this, could you?

He seemed more like a weird, awkward, sad guy than a real danger or some kind of pervert.

And you really did need a hot shower. 

It seemed like a safer bet to have him go first, if you were really going through with this. And it would give you a chance to look around the room for a spot to tuck away your pocket knife, just in case.

When he was in the shower, you did just that. The spot between the mattress and bed frame would be easy to grab at if things got hinky.

If things got all touchy-feely, as you suspected they would, him finding that on you or leaving it in your pocket when your clothes got tossed wherever would be really inconvenient. 

Steam rolled out of the bathroom when he stepped out, shirtless but with sweatpants and a towel around his neck. He was thin, almost alarmingly so, but you could still see muscle, enough to pose a problem should he decide to overpower you.

This was your last chance to back out, before you’d be vulnerable to this odd stranger.

But even if you left, the money wouldn’t last long, and it’s not like you had any other options. 

You were so grateful that the motel tub wasn’t disgusting, but you would’ve gotten clean regardless. Two days worth of sweat and funk was washed away and it felt so heavenly… But it was hard to relax when you were trying to stay hyper alert of any noise that could be that man trying to get in or even eavesdrop.

But…

Nothing. 

You finished your shower and brushed your teeth, doing everything you could to feel clean that a motel bathroom could provide. And there was no sign of the guy. 

But you had to go back out there eventually. You supposed you could lock yourself in here and get a full night’s sleep indoors, even if it was on the floor of a motel bathroom with your back against the door, but part of you just said “fuck it” and warily peeked around the doorway into the bedroom.

The lights in the room were dim, but warm. He was sitting on the end of the bed, one knee tucked into his chest, staring at the tv as the bright colors of a nightly talk show reflected in his eyes, but something told you he wasn’t really watching. His eyes met yours and you froze.

“It’s almost eleven…” He mumbled, his head resting awkwardly on his shoulder. His hand ghosted over the spot on the bed next to him. “… Will... will you stay?”

So many thoughts raced through your head. What would happen if you laid down beside him? You could probably deal with sex… even if it felt a bit wrong. But if he wanted to hurt you?

Your brain reminded you:

What do you really have to lose?

When you told him you would stay, sitting next to him, you could see him relax. Just a bit.

“If you still want to leave-”

But you cut him off, almost afraid he would talk you out of it after you’d made up your mind.

Avoiding his stare, you told him you had nowhere to go.

The bed was cold, it might take a bit to warm up with the two of you in it, but it was the least of your concerns at that moment. 

“So it’s...” He’d spoken up so suddenly, you hoped he didn’t see you flinch. He was staring at the ceiling, seeming just a tiny bit calmer. “... it’s fine if you just… lay there or h-hold onto me, or play on your phone or whatever, anything is fine. Just… just don’t leave ‘til mornin’. Okay?”

A worrying pause, but you told him you understood.

And that was that. He laid next to you unmoving for almost an hour before you had the nerve to move at all, shifting slowly to your side to face him.

His eyes were shut, his breathing even, but somehow you knew he was still awake. It was like he was trying to sleep but it just wasn’t coming to him. He looked so worn down, like he could just keel over any second. It definitely made him less intimidating, but you weren’t letting your guard down, no matter how much your body was screaming at you to just let go.

Despite your better judgement, you wondered if he really was being genuine about this not being a sex thing. It was a relief, sure, but it just raised more questions.

Why were you here?

. . .

You’d stopped looking at the bedside clock a while ago. It had to have been hours by then.

Your anxiety and dread somehow felt quieter under the lull of impending sleep. Despite everything, your body was at least grateful for a warm bed and hot shower, and if you didn’t sleep there now, you didn’t know when you’d be able to sleep somewhere warm any time soon. 

Every moment that ticked by, you felt your resolve slipping. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, just to let go… This whole situation was weird, but you just wanted to sleep.

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

He hoped against everything that he would just fall asleep.

Just this once, he didn’t want to have to follow through with it. But he was so damn tired. There was this ache behind his eyes that he could feel in his bones, his mind never stopped racing… 

He could feel your body heat in the bed next to him. You had either been very scared or very considerate, you’d only moved once since you laid down with him. 

He hated that he had to do this. He felt sorry for you, he really did. But it was drowned out by the buzzing in the back of his brain. The constant whispers in his ear. 

There had been so many before now, it was a miracle he hadn’t gotten caught. But this was a huge, dangerous city. Everyone in it was just a blip to anyone paying attention. 

He could feel their skin under his palms buzzing at the back of his brain. How their eyes stared into his, burning with betrayal, fear, helplessness. How he saw them fade away.

How it was the only thing that worked to let him finally sleep. The only thing that quieted the whispers, at least for a little bit. 

Some booked it after getting the money. Some just showed up and straight-up robbed him. Some tried to leave in the middle of the night, thinking he was asleep. But if they stayed and fell asleep, that was that.

He told himself that he gave them all a chance. 

If you managed to stay up all night, you’d be safe. But he really needed this… It was already day three, and he’d never made it past day five without completely losing it. Trying to fight this, it was too hard. The longer he stayed awake, trying to avoid what had to happen, the worse he felt. The louder the voice got. The deeper the ache in his bones. But the more often he did it, the easier it got. And that was worse in a different way. 

It was wrong. He wasn’t so deep in it that he couldn’t see that. The morning after, he always hated himself and what he did. 

But as the days went on, it would all creep back in. And doing it again felt less and less horrifying to him. 

You were scared. He could tell. And you had every reason to be, he told himself. But it just meant it would take you longer to fall asleep. 

He could wait all night. And if you made it the full seven hours, you weren’t what he needed. You’d be free from him, from this. Hopefully you wouldn’t come back, no matter how badly you needed the money.

He wondered what you meant by having nowhere to go.

But he tried not to wonder too much. It would make this harder. 

He could hear your breathing getting slower, your body relaxing into the bed. You wouldn’t last much longer. 

His eyes shot open when he felt you suddenly touch him, tucking your forehead into his shoulder. You weren’t quite asleep, a cuddler? He almost laughed to himself when half-asleep you looked a bit frustrated, like it wasn’t enough.

You muttered something about being cold, lazily scooting your body closer to him up the bed. He felt his breath catch when suddenly, his head was pulled to you, tucked into your chest as your arm circled him. He was suddenly the little spoon, but facing you. He could hear your heartbeat. 

He wanted to say something, wake you up or wriggle free to make what he had to do easier on you when you fell asleep. He felt a hand in his hair, playing with it and idle gentle nails on his scalp. 

It was… nice. Everything felt calm, the buzzing and horrible thoughts were still there but they were being drowned out by the warmth of your skin, the thump of your heart in his ear.

You were mumbling something. He held his breath, trying to hear.

You told him, or whoever you were dreaming about, maybe even no one at all, that he was okay. That he was safe. 

He couldn’t keep his eyes open. Something was different this time. He felt all his control slipping away, and for once, he wasn’t scared. 

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

You woke to a sunbeam across your face, and the strange man in your arms, sound asleep. According to your phone, it was 10 am. You were grateful for the extra hours in a warm bed, but would he be mad? Did he have somewhere to be?

You couldn’t remember anything past drifting off next to him, but the two of you were tangled together, he seemed so comfortable.

Now that it was over, and your anxieties were much quieter, you really got a good look at the guy. He wasn’t… unattractive, you supposed. He was all elbows and ribs but laying against your chest made him look so soft and harmless. 

Wasn’t the worst way you’d ever made 175 bucks.

You wondered if he’d shell out the extra 100, or if that would be pushing your luck. 

Either way, it would be best to wake him up.

Gently scratching at his scalp, you told him it was getting late.

You watched as his eyes struggled to open, and for a few calm moments, he just laid against you. After a beat, he gasped and jolted up, head swiveling around the room in a panic.

“I…” He seemed really out of it, almost scared. “I actually…”

He stared at you, eyes wide. You told him it was ten in the morning, hoping everything was okay and if it wasn’t, that he wouldn’t take it out on you.

He grabbed you by the shoulders, and for a moment you were sure something bad was going to happen, but somehow, it was even worse.

He was crying.

Breaking down, sobbing hard as he just kept staring at you. Even with the odd night you’d just had, this was somehow the weirdest part. 

Despite yourself, you asked him if he was okay. He pulled himself together and you were startled again when he touched your face, his thumb gently grazing your cheek. It was tender and sweet, and it was freaking you out a little. Just a tad. 

“You… It was you…”

All you could think to ask was if you should get going, maybe trying to make it seem like you had someplace to be, or were at least trying to be considerate of his time. But it didn’t seem like he was taking the hint. 

He grabbed your hands in his, the sudden contact made you jump. He pulled them to his chest, he was too close. The way he was looking at you…

“Can we… Can we do this again? Like tonight? Please?” He was practically begging, the look in his eyes changing. That nervous, achingly tired gaze was hopeful. And so warm.

“You can have the room, if that’s what you need!” he offered, maybe somehow having picked up on your current situation. “I can pay more too. Just p-please…”

He held your palm to his cheek, staring up at you.

“I need you.”

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

a bit of a different one from me, but i kind of liked how it turned out

that feeling when your new yandere was totally gonna off you but you were just too comfy

he's never gonna let you go. you're the only thing keepin him from killing again, ya know?

i don't have a ton of yanderes that actually kill, as odd as that seems. but this guy is one of them

he's not supposed to be a huge commentary on any particular mental health conditions, i did a bit of "research" into psychosis induced insomnia (using that term VERY loosely), but like does he hear voices because he can't sleep, or can he not sleep because he hears voices? who can say? certainly not I, the dummy who made him

i wrote this one pretty much right after my last big deadline ended, but it got reworked a bit cause it just needed some tweaks:

the yandere started out as tired but crass, kind of a dick, and when he switched after that good night's sleep it felt off. It felt more interesting if he was a bit pathetic and creepy, it felt like less of a red flag for the reader to stick around

the reader was originally going to be a straight up s*x worker that got hired by the yandere for him to kill, but it didn't really feel like my place to make that commentary on violence against s*x workers or to more or less soften it with a yandere love interest. it just didn't feel right for something so unserious

but ive been having horrible writer's block lately, so i thought i'd finally put this one out. i need to read/play some yandere stuff and get inspired. let me know if you have any recommendations y'all ✌️

[solxamber]

Ace (LMAO I just saw that you had a million request for him, but he’s just so loyal and loverboy coded. If you need to mix it up, Ruggie or Silver would work too!), Romantic, and Always by I fight Dragons

(“I can't promise you there won't be pain

I can't promise to remain the same

But when you're scared

I'll be there, tonight and always”)

I'm not complaining I love Ace

"Tonight, you look like a dream" || Ace Trappola

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: Always by I Fight Dragons

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 430

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Established relationship, fluff

Ace still doesn’t know how he pulled this off.

You—someone so bright, so effortlessly you—chose him.

It doesn’t make sense. It shouldn’t make sense. He’s loud-mouthed, a pain in the ass, too stubborn for his own good. You could’ve had anyone—someone sweeter, someone smoother, someone with fewer rough edges. But somehow, somehow, you ended up with him.

And every time he sees you, it still knocks the breath out of his lungs. Every time you look at him like he’s something special, like he’s someone worth looking at, he has to fight the urge to just grab you and never let go.

Because to him, you are special. You’re every warm, golden memory. You’re the spark that turns his days from ordinary to electric. You make life something more—something worth waking up for, something worth fighting for.

He doesn’t always know how to say it. He hides behind cocky grins and teasing words, because if he ever really said how much he loved you, he might just break apart. But when he reaches for you, when his fingers brush yours and he holds on just a little too long—he hopes you understand.

He hopes you know that he’s here. That he’ll always be here.

He’s not the kind of guy to make big, poetic promises. He can’t promise that life will always be easy. That there won’t be days when he messes up, when he annoys you to the point of madness, when things don’t go the way either of you planned. But he can promise one thing:

He will always, always be by your side.

Through every fight, every laughter-filled night, every sleepy morning when he’s too lazy to get out of bed and just wants to pull you close and stay there forever—he’s yours.

Maybe one day, you’ll travel the world together, running through new cities, chasing the sun, living off adventure and love. Maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll stay right here, right where you are. And that’s okay, because even if you never move an inch, as long as you’re next to him, Ace knows he’ll still be the happiest guy alive.

He watches you now, the way your lips curl into a smile, the way your fingers brush against his, and he thinks—this is it. This is the thing people spend their whole lives looking for.

And as he leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, as he whispers a soft, “You’re stuck with me, y’know,” before kissing you like he never wants to stop—he knows one thing for sure.

Tonight and always, it’s you.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[f1girliefics]

Love in the Fast Lane

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Summary: A road trip turns into a heartfelt journey of love.

The hum of the engine was a soothing backdrop as Lewis drove, his sunglasses reflecting the sunlit highway stretching out ahead.

You sat in the passenger seat, your hand resting lightly on the console between you, and you couldn’t help but notice the smile playing on his lips.

He had been unusually quiet about the details of this trip, only saying he wanted to take you somewhere special.

“Are you ever going to tell me where we’re going?” you asked, turning to look at him.

He glanced at you, his smile growing. “Where’s the fun in that? Just trust me.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Trusting you got me into a car at 6 AM with no coffee. I think I deserve a hint.”

“Alright, alright,” he said as he reached to squeeze your hand before putting his back on the wheel. “It’s somewhere I used to go before everything got... hectic. A place that helps me think, you know?”

“That sounds perfect. Thank you for bringing me along.”

“Where else would you be, Love?” he asked with a smile before you reached to change the music.

The rest of the drive was filled with easy conversation.

He pointed out random sights along the way.

A quirky roadside diner.

A vintage car that zipped past, and you teased him about how he couldn’t resist critiquing other drivers.

After a couple of hours, the car slowed as he turned onto a narrow, tree-lined road. The lush greenery enveloped the path, and you felt a thrill of anticipation.

“This is it?” you asked, peering out at the scenery.

“Not quite,” he said, his voice teasing. “We’ve got just a little more to go.”

The road opened to a breathtaking view of rolling hills, the sun painting the landscape in gold.

Lewis parked the car at a small overlook and got out, rounding the vehicle to open your door.

“Ever the gentleman,” you teased, taking his hand as you stepped out.

“Always.”

He led you to a spot where a blanket and a small picnic basket had been set up. You blinked in surprise, turning to him. “When did you do this?”

“Magic, and a little planning.”

You sat on the blanket, Lewis handed you your favourite soda.

Conversation between you two was always something extremely calming and natural.

As the sun began to set, casting everything in a beautiful, golden light, Lewis grew quieter.

You watched him, noticing the way he seemed to be gathering his thoughts.

“Hey,” you said softly, touching his arm. “What’s on your mind?”

He looked at you, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

You tilted your head, smiling. “Is that so?”

He nodded, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small, velvet box.

Your breath caught as he opened it to reveal a stunning ring, the diamonds catching the sunlight even though there was not much sunlight left.

“Lucky that I get to spend my life with you,” he said, his voice steady but full of meaning and depth. “I’ve been waiting for the right moment to ask you this, and I realized there’s no such thing as the perfect time. Every moment with you feels right.” Your heart was pounding as he took your hand. “Will you marry me?”

For a moment, all you could do was nod. “Yes,” you managed to finally say, your voice breaking. “Yes, of course.”

He slipped the ring onto your finger, his hands steady even as yours trembled.

Then he pulled you into his arms, holding you close.

“Guess I’ll have to drive carefully on the way back,” he murmured into your hair.

You laughed through your tears of happiness, pulling back to look at him. “Why’s that?”

“Because now I’ve got my future wife in the car,” he said, his grin breaking through.

The rest of the evening was you going through Pinterest having to look at different wedding aesthetics, trying to find the most perfect one.

"Since you are a knight... can we hold the wedding in a castle?" you asked and Lewis laughed.

"So you can be the Princess and me the Knight in shining armour?"

"Or a nice Armani suit. I'm not forcing you into anything metal." Lewis nodded.

"We will do everything you want, Princess."

And as you drove back, you couldn't look away from your beautiful ring. A proud smile on his lips and a very happy one on yours.

[lazysoulwriter]

Between the Lenses and the Track -Charles Leclerc.

hes so....

The first time you met Charles Leclerc, it wasn’t exactly glamorous. You were adjusting your camera settings in the Ferrari garage, focused on the telemetry screens reflecting off your lens, when a hand suddenly appeared in your frame, waving dramatically. You lowered your camera just in time to see Charles grinning at you.

“Got the shot?” he asked, playful as ever.

“Ruined it, actually,” you deadpanned, tilting your head. “You owe me a better one.”

From that day on, Charles made it his mission to provide you with ‘better’ shots—though most of them consisted of him making faces, posing ridiculously, or sending you exaggerated winks through your lens. It became a running joke between you two, a small part of your routine in the fast-paced world of Formula 1.

But somewhere along the way, your dynamic began to make headlines.

'Charles Leclerc’s Mystery Woman—Just a Photographer or Something More?’

'Flirty Glances in the Paddock—What’s Going On Between Ferrari’s Golden Boy and F1’s Shutter Queen?’

It was ridiculous. You were just friends, but neither of you ever bothered correcting the assumptions. If anything, Charles found it hilarious.

“Should we address the rumors?” you asked once, scrolling through yet another speculative article.

“I think we should fuel them,” he smirked. “Keep them on their toes.”

So, the flirting turned into an unspoken game. Post-race interviews? Charles would sneak in a comment about how he only pushes for pole position because he knows you get the best shots from there. Press conferences? If you were nearby, he’d find a way to mention your name. Once, he even called you his ‘good luck charm’ on live television, winking directly at your camera.

The fans ate it up.

It was harmless, right?

Until it wasn’t.

—

It happened in the backstage area of a Grand Prix weekend. The session had ended, and most of the paddock was clearing out. You were sorting through the hundreds of pictures on your camera when you heard footsteps approaching.

“Busy as always,” Charles teased, leaning against the table beside you.

“Unlike some people, I actually work,” you quipped without looking up.

“Ouch,” he placed a hand over his chest, mock-offended. “And here I was about to invite you to dinner as a thank-you for all the flattering angles.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. “Flattering? You make my job harder with all those stupid faces.”

“I give you personality,” he defended.

You turned to him, shaking your head with amusement. It was always like this—effortless teasing, easy chemistry. But then his gaze lingered just a little too long, his smirk fading into something softer, something more intent.

Your breath caught.

It was just Charles. Your Charles. The same guy who made dumb jokes and dramatically posed every time he saw your camera pointed his way. But suddenly, standing here in the quiet, the air between you had shifted. It felt heavier. Loaded.

His fingers brushed against yours, barely a touch, but enough to make your skin burn.

“Careful,” you murmured, trying to keep the teasing tone, but your voice came out weaker than intended. “The media’s watching even when they’re not.”

He chuckled, low and knowing. “Let them watch.”

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t playful, wasn’t a joke or another inside reference to keep up the act. It was slow, deliberate, like he was waiting for you to pull away. But you didn’t.

You let yourself melt into it, into the warmth of his lips, the way his hand came up to cup the side of your face like he’d wanted to do it for longer than he’d ever admit.

When you finally pulled back, your heart was hammering. Charles, however, just grinned.

“So,” he said, voice still low. “Should we fuel the rumors some more?”

You laughed, breathless. “I think we just did.”

[great-septimus]

Hey, so I don't want to be that guy, but when are we going to acknowledge that Akechi was right?

No, I obviously don't mean about the things he was very clearly wrong about. I'm referring to the things he says in interviews about the Phantom Thieves. I hate how many people switch up after playing through his betrayal who previously agreed with his views, because nothing he said is wrong and nothing he did changes that fact. He speaks in the TV Station on the objective facts that he should know about, and with or without the context of his form of justice those facts stay true. It's a fallacy to claim that his form of justice being universally less approved of makes the Phantom Thieves better by comparison, or discredits anything he said. I don't think the Phantom Thieves are evil, or that they should necessarily be imprisoned, but I do think that they are not morally sound. They're kids. Prior to his betrayal I think he served his purpose well, but it's easy to disregard the validity of his words when you find out that he's a murderer. With the knowledge he SHOULD have had (and that many DID have), everything he says is true. And honestly? It still can be true for basically the entire plot of the game. Mishima's confidant tests the thieves in that way. They could have changed the hearts of anyone who's not a persona user, for any personal reason. It's a slippery slope.

I'll use these three options as an example for why he's right:

"They're justice itself" is just subjective and incorrect, because justice as a concept is individualized and given how each Phantom Thief has different reasons for being one it's ridiculous for even them to say. Their first target was before they even formed a group, and Ann was ready to kill Kamoshida. The others were not even going to step in, and they were going to respect her choice either way. All the members are so different, so this is an insane claim to make.

"They're necessary" is wrong because to say they are necessary is pretty disingenuous to all "justice" that has ever happened BEFORE they existed. I don't believe that the Thieves were a necessity per say, and personally I think their actions can only be judged on a case by case basis. Some Mementos targets for example have issues that stem beyond what they have done. Now they have their desires stolen but still have the issue that pushed them to immortality in the first place, plus a shitton of guilty baggage. The Thieves only help with the atonement, but not the push. How many of those people didn't just go right back to their past behaviors? How many of them got worse in other ways? Think about Futaba, she felt so guilty for something she thought she did, she formed a palace to condemn herself to die alone. To claim the Thieves are necessary to reform society implies that their method is the most effective, and I think that's a lot to claim for something they don't understand.

"They do more than the cops" I almost agree with. Legally the police in Japan in this game anyway (yes I'm aware it extends to reality in many ways, but I'm referring to just the game right now) are corrupt and flawed for the most part, but the thing I don't agree with is that this makes the Thieves a better alternative. They're not. For the same reason Yoshizawa says later, the Thieves can only do so much as vigilantes, and to imply that society should rely on these faceless nameless flawed people to fix society is not any better than what they have now. Especially with the method being unknown, potentially unsafe, and easily exploitable. I cannot be the only one who if the Phantom Thieves were real, would be extremely alarmed by the prospect of a group of vigilantes "changing hearts" right? It's so vague, and the pattern is dystopian. At least police methods are familiar

What I'm saying is that they're kids, and it's kind of insane that this game places Akechi as the narrative foil for the Thieves in their message and then makes it so easy to disregard because "he's an assassin so how could he know anything about justice". The Thieves don't either, and Ann was nearly a murderer. If the bar is "don't commit murder when you're infiltrating someone's mind" then it's far too low. I wouldn't trust a group of adults with this power to reform society, even less a group of teenage vigilantes. I'm 19, and I find this odd. And Strikers frames them as even more righteous, and it bugs me even more in that game. At least Royal has the third semester to give a bit more nuance to how big of a responsibility Ren was given, but that's also very frequently misinterpreted.

I love this game, and I love this fandom, and I have thoughts that get weird and ranty. I apologize, but I hope you all found this as interesting as I did.

[spencewalterreid]

If "I Love You" Was A Promise

Summary: Your mind has been unkind to you as of late, and Spencer picks up on it. He comes over to try to get you to open up.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN reader

Category: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: very self-deprecating, physical abuse if you squint (reader shoves Spencer), mean!reader but they don't mean it, mental breakdown (like... total meltdown), yelling, no use of y/n, Spencer being a sweetie, I think that's it.

Word count: 3k

Author's Note: I truly do love me some angsty angst. I've been going through a gloomy patch recently and wanted to just write a super self-indulgent comfort fic. enjoy enjoy enjoy

You met Spencer a few months ago at a bookstore and you were quick friends. He’s brilliant, great to talk with, and you like a lot of the same media. However, he also happens to be an FBI profiler, which means he thinks he knows everything about everyone all of the time. You’re getting pretty fucking sick of it. He noticed oh-so-astutely that you were going through some shit, and asked under the cover of a movie night to accompany you to your house. Blindingly naive, you agreed. That’s how you ended up in front of him in a heated argument about your current state of mind.

"I don't know what you want from me, Reid! This isn't any of your goddamn business. Just because I've been distracted doesn't mean you need to give me a fucking house call!" you shout, your hands pulling at your hair to ground yourself. "This has nothing to do with you."

Spencer held up his hands in a placating gesture, his voice calm and measured as he responded. "Okay, let's take a deep breath. I'm not trying to overstep any boundaries here."

He studied your body language intently - the way your hands gripped your hair, the tension in your shoulders. The distraction, the frustration, it was all rooted in something deeper, something that had nothing to do with their current argument.

"Tell me this," Spencer said, his tone gentle yet firm, "is there a pattern to these distractions? Have they been getting worse over time?" He leaned in slightly, his gaze locked onto yours. "Sometimes, it helps to talk things out with someone else. And right now, I'm here to listen."

Spencer was acutely aware of the small, cluttered apartment around him – the scattered books and papers on the coffee table, the faint smell of coffee that lingered in the air. He used the familiarity of the space to center himself, to keep his focus on understanding the root of your distress.

"I'm not here to judge or criticize," he assured you, his voice low and soothing. "I just want to make sure you're okay."

In that moment, Spencer's mind raced with possibilities, trying to piece together what the hell your problem was. Was this distraction tied to a past trauma, a family issue, or something else entirely? As an FBI profiler, he knew that the key to understanding a person's behavior lay in their history, their experiences, their upbringing.

"Talk to me," Spencer encouraged gently, his tone warm yet authoritative. "I'm here to listen. Please?" He held out his hand, a silent offer, and waited for you to open up to him. Yeah, right.

"God, stop being so fucking you for a minute!" you stomp up to him, about 2 feet away, and shove at his chest. "Act like a goddamn human, for once in your life! Would it kill you? Huh?"

Spencer stumbled back from the sudden shove, caught off guard by the contact. His heart raced as he felt the warmth of your hands against his chest, the bloom of dull pain. He was shocked. No one had ever laid hands on him like that before, no one he cared about at least, and especially not you.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to process the surge of emotions that flooded through him. If the breath was meant to keep tears at bay too, then maybe you didn’t need to know that.

"I... I know I'm not always easy to understand," Spencer said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know your mind works differently than most people's. But I'm trying... I'm trying to be here for you, in whatever way I can."

"Stop it!" you shout. "Stop trying to be unaffected. Stop trying to act like my fucking therapist, because you aren't! You... Don't... Know.. Me." you pause between each word, your finger in his face. "Stop trying to fucking profile me. Act like you have any sort of goddamn emotion, for once in your life!"

Spencer flinched as if struck, your finger hovering inches from his face. The harsh words hung heavy in the air between you, a bitter sting he couldn't shrug off like he might an insult from a suspect.

For just a moment, he faltered. He knows he's insecure, it's one of his biggest flaws, but he thinks maybe right now he should be. Maybe he's stepped too far. Maybe this isn't his place.

He shrugs that off just as soon as it comes. This is more important than being polite.

He swallowed hard, feeling the weight of your frustration, your anger, your desperation. It was raw, visceral, a maelstrom of emotion he struggled to comprehend. Slowly, deliberately, he reached up and wrapped his hand around your wrist, gently lowering your finger from his face.

"You're right," he said, his voice low. "I'm not your therapist. I'm not perfect.”

He paused, words careful with his gaze locked onto yours. "But know this... I care about you. More than I can express. And I'm trying.”

Spencer's other hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over the heated skin. "I may not always show it in ways you expect... but I do have feelings. This isn’t fair, you have to know that.” His eyes brim with unshed tears, as if pleading with you to apologize. He sincerely doubted he'd get that, at least right now.

His voice dropped to a whisper. "Tell me what you need. Tell me how to do this, because I’m at a loss.”

"Stop it! Stop, stop, stop!" you scream, pounding at his chest once more before turning to dig your fingernails into your scalp. "God, you're such a fucking asshole! You don't have a goddamn clue what you're talking about. You've only known me for a couple of months! You couldn't possibly-" your voice catches in your throat, but you choke down a sob. You couldn't possibly love me. You firmly remind yourself he did not say that. Why would he?

Spencer stumbled back, his stomach and a twist and head spinning as he absorbed the brutal impact of your fists against his chest. He tries to keep in mind that you aren’t trying to hurt him, you’re just overwhelmed. He’s having a hard time believing it.

He reached out, trying to grab your wrists to still your frantic movements. But you wrenched away, pacing the small room like a caged animal. Spencer stood frozen, watching the scene in front of him, cinematic in its drama.

"Just because I haven't known you long doesn't mean I don't care about you," he interjects, voice tensely controlled. "You don't get to tell me what I feel or don't feel."

He took a step closer, then another, until he stood behind you. Gently, carefully, he placed his hands on your shoulders, warmth seeping into your tight muscles.

"I can't pretend to know everything you've been through. I can't claim to understand what you're going through, especially 'cuz you won't tell me anything," he sighs. "But I see you, or I'm at least trying to. I see the strength in you, the resilience, the courage.” His fingers tighten minimally in support, pausing a moment. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll be damned if I let you face this alone."

That did it.

One sentence, and the dam is breaking. Months of grief, loneliness, and a lifetime of being a last priority come crashing into you all at once. Your knees buckle at the weight of it as sobs wrench your body. "Get out," you demand, but your hands wrap firmly around his arms. "Get out. Please." You shake your head. "Please, Spencer, go home." You press back into him, curling into his warmth. "You're such a fucking dick."

Spencer held on tighter, holding you up with a grip around your waist.

"Okay," he murmured. "Okay, I'll go. If that's what you need."

But he didn't let go. He couldn't. Not yet. Not until he knew you were steady. Not until he knew, without a doubt, that you meant it.

"Tell me this first," he pleaded softly, his cheek pressed against the top of your head. "Tell me you know you're not alone. That you have someone in your corner, no matter what."

His arms tightened, a silent vow. "I know we're not close, I know I'm not always the easiest person to deal with. But I'm trying. I'm trying to be what you need me to be."

He stood there, holding you through your sobs. It impressed you, the resolve of him. It impressed you that he didn’t get pissed, as much as you wanted him to. You aren’t used to gentleness. You’d rather fight than stand in front of someone who’ll just let you cry.

The wails leaving your throat embarrass the living shit out of you, and you know tomorrow you'll hate yourself for it, but right now you’re grateful. "I'm sorry," you cry. "I'm so sorry. So sorry, Spencer." You empty your lungs completely with your sobs, then refill them just to empty them again. "I hate you. I hate you," you repeat, holding his arms with a bruising grip as he gently lowers you onto the floor despite his unrelenting germaphobia. He winces. "I hate you."

The mindfulness applied was the kind he usually reserved for crime scenes. He sat behind you, cradling your trembling body against his chest, one hand rubbing soothing circles on your back as the other held your hand.

"Shh, it's okay," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "You don't need to apologize. You don't need to hate anything right now except maybe the hand dealt to you."

He rocked you gently, matching the rhythm of your ragged breaths. "I know you're hurting. I know it’s confusing. But please, don't hate yourself for feeling. Don't hate yourself for needing someone to be here for you."

Spencer's hand slid up to cup your cheek, tilting your face towards his. He thumbed away the tears that fell in steady streams, his own eyes a pool of their own. "Hate me if you need to. I can take it. I can take anything, as long as you're not hating yourself. None of this is your fault."

He leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours. "You're allowed to feel. You're allowed to break. You're allowed to scream and cry and rage until you have nothing left. And I'll be right here, picking up the pieces, gluing you back together.” He pulled back just enough to watch you for a moment, your cheeks burning ever hotter. “I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

Your breath catches on a hiccup. "Don't say that," you beg. "Please," you sob. "Don't you say that to me. You don't know me, Reid." your voice is totally wrecked, you sound like a toddler throwing a tantrum. "You don't know what you're saying, you-" your breath catches, then another, then another, and then before you know it you’re hyperventilating.

What you didn’t say was, when you say it out loud, it becomes a promise. What you didn’t say was, I trust you. To say that is to make a promise you will not keep. To say that is to promise to break my trust. What you didn’t say was, To say that is to lie.

Spencer felt a surge of panic as your breathing grew rapid and shallow, your body shaking violently in his arms. He tightened his grip, a fierce, protective hold, as if he could physically keep you anchored. A folly effort, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

"Hey, hey, slow down," he urged, his voice calm and steady despite the fear gripping his heart. "You're okay, you're safe. I've got you."

He slid his hand from your cheek to the back of your neck, tilting your head down towards your knees. "That's it, just like that. Breathe with me. In and out. Slow and steady."

"Don't- don't- don't- d-" You tremble like a fucking leaf. Pathetic. You try to calm down enough to say this because you know it needs to be said: "Don't make- make- don't make pr- promi- promises you ca- can't- can't keep."

Spencer’s heart drops. What did he do wrong?

He didn’t quite know what to say, but he made an effort anyway. "You need to breathe, sweetheart. You need to breathe through this, one breath at a time.”

You lean down to softly press your lips against his hand, still shivering. Shaking. "I'm so sorry," you whisper. "I'm sorry. This is so pathetic."

"Hey, hey, none of that," Spencer soothed, turning your face towards his. He brushed away a lingering tear with his thumb, his gaze locked onto your red-rimmed eyes. "Being human isn't pathetic. Feeling, caring, needing... that's what makes you beautifully, perfectly human."

The smile on his face is sad, but genuine. He lays his hand on the side of your head, dragging a thumb across your temple. “I'm here because I want to be. Because I choose to be. Your strength and your vulnerability, they're a part of what draws me to you. Never apologize for being who you are."

"Can you stay?" you whisper feebly. "I mean, you don't-" you hiccup. "Don't feel pressured, of course. You know what?" You force a smile, which appears hopelessly pathetic considering the salt stains marring your cheeks. "I'm actually okay. I'm so okay. You can go home, Spencer. Go get some rest. Sorry." You move to get up, but his hold tightens. He mets your gaze, his voice low and firm. "No. I'm not going anywhere. I told you... I'm staying right here, with you."

He adjusted your position, lying down and gathering you fully into his arms, holding you close against his chest. "Rest now," he murmured, stroking your hair. "I'll be here when you wake up." Spencer pressed a soft kiss to your hair.

You chuckle without any meaning. "Spencer, no. Not on the hardwood floor," you say apologetically, sitting up. "You can take the bed. I'll sleep on the couch. C'mon, get up."

Spencer reinforced his embrace, not letting you pull away as he sat up slowly. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the last of their tears. "I'm not leaving you alone. End of discussion."

He stood, pulling you up with him, then guided you down the hallway, to your bedroom, then to sit on the edge of the bed beside him. Spencer's arm remained wrapped around your shoulders, a constant, comforting presence.

"I'll sleep here, with you. I won't leave your side." His voice softened, a gentle caress. "Please don't ask me to go, not now. I need to be here for you.”

"Spence-"

"No," he interjects. "No. Lay down. I'm gonna get you some water, I'll be right back."

He pats the bed behind you. Sluggish, you settle back into the plush mattress, encircling yourself in the comforter, dragging it right up to the bottom of your chin. You huff.

Spencer returned a moment later, a glass of water in hand. He set it on the bedside table and looked down at you, sympathy written all over him as he observed your closed eyes and the way you had curled in on yourself, still sniffling in the aftershocks.

Gently, he sat on the edge of the bed, his weight causing it to dip slightly. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingertips grazing your cheek. You felt warm, almost feverish.

"Hey, sweetheart..." Spencer's voice was soft, almost a whisper. He leaned in closer, his breath ruffling the hair he had just smoothed. "I know you're not asleep."

His hand slid down to your shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. "Talk to me. What's going on in that beautiful mind of yours?" Spencer's words were gentle, a nudging request. Not a demand. Never a demand. He wanted to know you were okay, but he wouldn't force it out of you. If you were going somewhere dark, he wanted to follow you with a flashlight in hand, but only if you'd let him.

"Go to bed, Spencer."

Spencer's brow furrowed, stubbornness hard-set on his face. He didn't move from his perch on the edge of the bed, his hand still resting firmly on your shoulder.

"No. You can’t go to bed feeling like this. It could cause nightmares, increased cortisol levels, and I know you’ll have a headache in the morning if you don’t drink water." He took a deep breath, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your shoulder. "Please, talk to me. Let me help carry this burden with you. I'm stronger than I look, I promise."

You smile, your eyes still closed. "You look plenty strong," you reply. "Please, go to sleep. I'm tired."

Spencer's eyes narrowed, not convinced. “Look at me. Please." When you didn't immediately comply, he gently squeezed your shoulder. “I know you're hurting, and I know you’re tired, but you can’t end the night like this.”

He paused, his posture wilting in his frustration.

You open your eyes and roll onto your back. "Drop it, Reid. It's late, I just cried my fucking eyes out, I want to go to bed. Now, either lay your pretty ass down, or go sleep on the couch."

Spencer studied your face, trying to settle the odds with himself. Accepting defeat, he finally relented with a soft sigh. "Fine.”

He slipped off his shoes and climbed into bed beside you, being mindful not to jostle you. Settling onto his back, he turned to face you, a gentle hand coming to rest on your waist. "Goodnight," he murmured, eyes already heavy with fatigue. "Sleep well."

"Can I-" You turn toward him, but shut your mouth before you ask. "Nevermind. Goodnight."

Spencer felt you shift, turning to face him. “No, what were you going to say?”

You hum, trying to decide how to phrase it. “It was nothing.”

“Here,” he offers, lifting the arm nearest you, inviting you to curl into him. He’s always so observant. Despite your thus-short friendship, he knew exactly what you wanted. You complied.

"Sleep well, sweetheart," he repeated, his hand on your waist giving a gentle, comforting squeeze. "I'll be right here when you wake."

[revelboo]

Do you like the sims? I feel like you would have fun with creating drama and being whimsical

I’ve never tried the game, but it does look fun. I usually play Destiny 2, though I just started Astrobot

Everything Is Alright Pt 126

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Now? How can you believe him when he chooses now, when you’re obviously angry and hurt, to finally say it? When you can only wonder if he only said it to try and calm you down. And you’re a fool, but you want to believe him so bad. Because right here in his arms feels like home, but he just keeps hurting you. “Do you?”

• Wings dropping at that soft, hurt question, he knows this is his fault. So busy clawing and fighting to keep what little he has, he hadn’t considered your feelings. Wishes Soundwave would leave, but the other mech is keeping his distance, servos flexing as he stares at you. Like he wants to reach out, but is holding back. “I’m not good at this,” he murmurs, voice dipping. Because every time he reaches out, dares to hope, he’s hurt. Every time. “I want to do better, though.” Pulling back some, he tips your chin up, those eyes he loves shiny with tears. Because of him. Again. “You’re the only thing I actually care about. You and our sparkling. I’m trying because I do love you.” Servo swiping over your cheek as a tear falls, he wonders if he’s messed up too much. “I want you to help me make decisions for our future.”

• Our future. Want to believe he means it, that he’s going to change. But you know what his words are worth. “Then show me,” you mutter, resting your head against him. Just so tired of fighting him. Miss when things were simpler. It had never exactly been easy, but it hadn’t always been so awful either. One of his hands cups the back of your head as he shifts and stretches out a hand. Looking up, you realize he’s reaching for Soundwave. Including him even though you’re sure he hates him.

• Hesitating as the Seeker looks at him, expression twisted with displeasure, but reaching out anyway. Making an effort. Ignoring Starscream’s outstretched hand, he moves closer to you, hands sliding against your sides as he cages you between them. Wanting. And you’re looking at him over your shoulder as he bends to brush his masked face against you. There has to be a way around your life span. Knows you don’t like Shockwave, but sooner or later, he’s going to have to be involved. Eventually they’ll need a protoform. That need to reclaim you is an ache in his spark like a jagged wound. His spark sensing you so close and feeling that missing connection that’s a part of him. Something he needs.

• Optics shuttering, Starscream rests his chin on top of your head as Soundwave croons to you. Trines sometimes form out of necessity. For survival. Something he’s aware of, just like Trines that have lost members will sometimes adopt non-Seekers. He’d drifted away from Skywarp and Thundercracker, and he wants to fix that, too. Hadn’t really wanted a new Trine. Especially not Megatron and Soundwave. But he can do this. Prove he’s loyal to you when he’s only ever been loyal to himself. Doing things he hates just to keep what he has. Because you love him even if can’t say it back right now. And he wants to be worthy of that. Wants to trust you.

Previous

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Darry Curtis was always gay- the musical just makes it more obvious.

I know it was never Hinton’s INTENTION for any of her characters to be perceived as queer, she claims she didn’t write them that way, and that’s fine. In fact, I think reading The Outsiders as a group of straight men who have the bonds they do is actually a really great critique of toxic masculinity, in that we would see the contrast between their interactions one on one or alone with the group, compared to their macho, hyper masculine personas they showcase in public. HOWEVER, I think it’s incredibly hard to read it that way because Hinton accidentally and completely unintentionally made Darry Curtis one of the gayest characters in modern literature. It’s not far fetched. It’s not a stretch. I’m saying that if you have even a surface level understanding of subtext that it is obvious. Darry’s queerness is as open  in the novel as he is in his life- that is, it’s never said explicitly, but it’s VERY easy to see the signs. In fact, the way it’s threaded into the narrative but very talked around leads me to believe that even though Darry wasn’t out, it might have been an open secret within the gang- or at the very least they probably had some suspicions. 

For one, in the book Darry is never mentioned even once to have had a girlfriend, or even to have gone on dates, but we know he was popular and well liked. You can’t convince me that a handsome, popular football player, whose peers liked him enough to vote him Boy of The Year, didn’t have more than a few girls interested in him, but Pony’s narration never even alludes to Darry having been interested in one. For all he talks up Darry’s achievements, the scholarship he won, the future he could have had and everything he gave up, women/a girlfriend were never a part of it- which, given the time period and Darry’s reliance on hyper masculine social scripts, seems highly uncharacteristic unless there was a plausible explanation for his complete disinterest (ie. being gay). Now, examine this hyper masculinity a little further, and you can see it for what it is, a) a defence mechanism (because it separates him from stereotypes of what a gay men are like, so if he’s ‘manly’ enough no one will ever suspect or discover what he is) and b) the unfortunate complete opposite of that. Just like how hyper femininity characteristic to femme lesbians is off putting to men, the same is true to some degree about hyper masculine men being somewhat off putting to women. Not to the same degree, and probably not as obviously, but Darry’s  over the top masculinity might be the one thing effective in keeping (some) women away for reasons they can’t quite put their finger on. Point is, Darry was never a ladies man, to a degree that is very not heterosexual, especially for the time period.

So, now that we’ve established Darry’s complete disinterest in dating women,  his hypermasculine personality and it’s possible implications, let’s turn to other textual support for his queerness: his relationships with other male characters. I’m not talking about the gang- his interactions with all of them are very friendly/familial-�� but he has a bond with Tim Shepard that is clear on the page but left largely unexplained (their weird eye contact and high mutual respect, the fact Tim was at their house once with no explanation), and his homoerotic run in/fight with Paul at the rumble. Both these relationships have plausible deniability- they’re not explicitly gay, but they’re also not NOT gay. Again, Hinton didn’t intentionally make Darry gay, but he very much is, and as far as closeted gay characters go, he’s a fairly well written one, because the subtext is very much THERE if you know what you’re looking for, but the queerness of his interactions is shrouded in this very real this COULD mean nothing characteristic of a lot of closeted queer interactions. 

Having said all this, I think the musical making Darry and Paul’s fight (somehow) even more charged and homoerotic than it is in the book was a wise choice, because a lot of the rest of the subtext was changed/missing from the musical adaptation. I’ve seen the ritfr analysis looking at the lyrics as they relate to Darry’s queerness, and I do think they follow the veiled/subtextual theme, but I don’t think they’re as explicitly gay as they’re touted to be. However, I do think the musical does a good job of highlighting Darry’s queerness given the medium they’re working with, and the actors do an amazing job portraying it without saying it outright, making it more obvious than it is on the page- but Darry was canonically gay in the book too, and let’s not pretend otherwise.

(Lmk if you want to see my analysis of the other Curtis’ queerness as it related to the book + musical).

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

the fog. l Joel Miller

Summary: something that happened made the memories come back

Warnings: angst, mentioning violence and death, two dead, blood and gore, lots of fear, Ellie and Tommy, vomiting, Reader is broken, allusions to sexual abuse and torture

A/N: maybe I shouldn't have added this part so quickly, but I had it in my head and I literally had a few free hours. I don't know when I'll be so lucky again. there are definitely a lot of mistakes here. please, be understanding. I meant well.

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

When you left Jackson with Sam and Anthony the weather had definitely turned bad. After a few days of beautiful sunshine and blue skies, dark clouds brought rain and everything became grey and gloomy. 

Joel tried to hide his anxiety as you watched with such enthusiasm as you packed your backpack, reassuring him once again that you had packed everything. Even the knife he had once given you was safely in your pocket. If it weren't for that damned hand, he would have gone instead of you, but he didn't want to burden you with his worries.

After the last expedition for supplies, after you snapped, you needed him more than ever. But now you had to get back on your feet again, on your own. He knew it had nothing to do with him, but he was still worried.

"See you in a few days," you said, kissing him fondly goodbye.

"Don't be late."

You smiled, squeezed his good hand, and set off with Sam and Anthony.

Three or four days. That's how long, according to Tommy's estimate, this expedition should take. You were supposed to get to a nearby town, it was abandoned and none of you had been there for some time. After everything that could be used had been taken away from there many times, there wasn't much to be found. However, for safety's sake, the area should be checked.

Joel couldn't sit in an empty house. He tried to keep himself occupied, he went to the stables a few times, but his thoughts began to wander into dangerous areas. So he spent time with Tommy and the others, looked at the map, wondered where you were and if everything was okay.

Ellie spent time with her friends, but whenever she saw Joel, or when they met at the house, she asked about you. He didn't have to answer her much. The important thing was that she didn't hear any bad news.

On the third day, it started to rain. Small drops, the ones you hated so much. Joel smiled, because he could already see your gloomy face when you came back soaked. However, the day passed and you were gone.

Four days. Tommy said it could be four days. He kept repeating it to himself, but when he met his brother, he saw the same anxiety in his eyes.

That night, Joel didn't sleep a wink. Along with the usual guard, he sat on the wall and stared at the horizon as if you were going to appear there at any moment. This was the second time you were late. But now you went there because he couldn't, so he felt an additional sense of guilt.

"They'll come back, they always come back." Tommy didn't sound too confident when he said it.

"If something happened..."

Tommy looked at his brother. He could only guess how hard it was for him, the fear of loss was so damn strong in him, and this situation didn't help.

The sixth day. From early morning in Jackson, people began preparing to go in search of you. A group of about ten men were ready to set off. Joel was furious when Tommy refused to let him go.

"You're in a sling! You can't fucking ride." and then he watched in horror as his brother freed his arm and, although wincing in pain, mounted the horse.

He couldn't fight him. He wouldn't stand a chance.

The road wasn't easy. The ground was damp and muddy, it was cold and unpleasant. The group didn't say much, they focused more on observation, to find some trace as soon as possible or to spot someone approaching them.

Joel tried not to focus on the unpleasant feeling that accompanied horseback riding. He guessed that the bone might have healed, but it was still very sensitive. However, his brain was focused only on you, the rest was not important.

With difficulty, he was convinced to stop. Night was approaching and there was no point in everyone risking it. If it weren't for Tommy and the others, Joel would probably have gone on alone. However, he stayed and as soon as the sun appeared on the horizon, he was already on his feet and driving everyone to continue their journey.

The fog engulfed the area, and the cold seeped into his jacket. Silence, only the sounds of horses and the forest. But, unexpectedly, something changed.

Tommy's horse twitched, startled by something, and right after that Joel felt his own move strangely too. Something must have been approaching them and the animals must have sensed it. He reached for his weapon and tried to peer into the nearby trees and undergrowth, to see some movement, maybe a figure or an animal.

Joel's heart stopped a second later.

You looked terrifying. He noticed immediately that something was wrong. He jumped off his horse and before Tommy could stop him, he was already running towards you. You tried to run too, as soon as you realized who you had met, but you were too tired. Your knees were buckling under you and tears were welling up in your eyes, and you couldn't hold them back anymore. When Joel grabbed you in his arms, you sank down onto the grass.

"Riders... There were riders." You whispered in a trembling voice.

More people surrounded you, but you were only staring into those brown eyes, the ones that were home and a symbol of safety.

"Are you hurt, baby?" he gasped, looking at you in horror.

Your clothes were covered in blood, as were your face and hands. He noticed the cut on your jacket, but the wound on your arm was no longer bleeding. Neither was your lip.

You shook your head. "Sam... Anthony... They're dead."

"How many are there? Were they in the city?" Tommy asked. You didn't even flinch. Your lips twisted, however, and after a moment you burst into tears.

"Sam and Anthony... I couldn't do anything..."

Familiar hands grabbed your face, pushing back your wet and dirty hair. A terrifying sob escaped your throat.

"Did they do something to you? Tell me!" Joel asked, maybe a little too nervously, but everything inside him was boiling.

You were too distraught, alternately sobbing and repeating the names of your companions, repeating that they were dead, talking about the Riders, and crying again.

Your fingers dug into the ground as hysteria slowly consumed you. Like you had been strong for too long and only now, with Joel before you, had all the dams given way. Your voice was incoherent, jumbled sobs and the same repeated words blending together.

Finally, Joel turned your face towards him, shook you as if he hoped it would bring you to your senses. For a moment he saw it in your eyes - total terror and brokenness.

"Tell me everything, please."

Somehow the words spilled from your lips.

Joel didn't remember how you got back to Jackson, or how you ended up at your house. Ellie's face showed complete fear when she saw you, but she quickly followed Joel's instructions.

She was the one who drew you a bath, and put your comfortable clothes on the counter by the sink. Without a word, she left the bedroom and closed the door behind her. 

Just like you had done a few days earlier, it was Joel who helped you take off your clothes. Layer by layer, all dirty and wet. You jumped like a startled animal when a sound like something heavy falling to the floor came from downstairs.

"It's nothing." Joel quickly tried to calm you down. "Ellie wants to make you some tea. She's just a little clumsy..."

You nodded, but the fear didn't leave your eyes. Finally, when he took off your underwear, he helped you get into the tub and you immersed yourself in the hot water. The scent of lavender reached your nostrils and the warmth began to envelop you, slowly permeating the layers of your frozen skin.

Seeing you like this always broke his heart. Yes, you were only human and you didn't have to be strong all the time. However, you carried wounds that clearly couldn't heal. Joel knew there was nothing he could do, but he would give anything to be able to take this burden off your shoulders, to take it upon himself so that it would be easier for you.

Carefully, with a wet towel, he washed your face and hands. He did it slowly, as if he could wash away the bad memories from you. It was only after several long minutes that you spoke. Almost a whisper, your voice was dead and alien. Joel listened, although he knew he might regret it later.

"I was part of a group that got out of one of the cities controlled by FEDRA. A few outcasts, a few who wanted to find their loved ones, a few who wanted to have adventures. And me. Maybe ten people, something like that. It was unwise, I know, but then..." you took a deep breath and wrapped your arms around your knees, letting Joel carefully clean the wound on your shoulder. "It was fine for a long time. A few broke away, went their own way. That's fine. I stayed, I didn't have a plan, I didn't have anyone close enough to look for or follow him. One guy was a Firefly, as was his girlfriend. I thought... Why not? I was good at what I did, but not good enough..."

You froze. Joel didn't say a word. He guessed what he might hear next.

"We met them when we entered some city, I don't even know what the sign at the entrance said. First a few infected, quick work. And then... It was a larger and well-organized group, and we were like ducks in a shooting gallery. I killed one or two of them and hid. I waited until nightfall, and they... I heard everything." Nails dug into your flesh, but you didn't react to it. Once you started, you couldn't finish talking. "I heard everything. What they did to those girls, how they slowly finished off the guys. It was a long night... I didn't dare go out in the morning. I waited again until nightfall. I was paralyzed. Only then did I get out of the city and hide in the forest. I don't remember how I got to Jackson, I sat there for a while, but I couldn't be around people. So I started hanging around the area again... Closer and further away. After a while, I came across you." Your eyes found him. Joel noticed how much sadness there was in them and how much it cost you to tell him all of this.

"Baby..." he said quietly "I'm so sorry you went through this..."

"On that patrol... I couldn't do anything. I didn't hide like I did then, but I couldn't do much and..." your breathing quickened, your eyes glazed over again and Joel grabbed your face trying to calm you down.

"No one blames you for this. Fuck! Baby, I should have been there, not you. It was me..."

"You could be dead already!" you interrupted him sharply "I don't want you to feel sorry for me, I don't want pity. I survived it and I would do it again if I had to. I did terrible things, but for you, for Ellie, for Tommy and Maria, I would do it all over again."

Joel understood that. He understood you really well and he felt that it was you who gave him strength at that moment, and not him giving it to you.

"Hi. I brought some soup. Maria made more, she thought you probably have other things on your mind right now."

Joel nodded and let Tommy in. It was dark. He'd only managed to convince you to go to bed an hour ago, and he was trying to find a place to sit and think.

Tommy put two jars of soup on the counter and leaned against it, folding his arms over his chest. "How is she?"

"Fine, if I may say so." Joel sighed, sitting down at the table. "Ellie is there. She's in bed with her so she can sleep."

Tommy nodded. "She was in terrible shape. God! Two days without sleep, food or water, in this condition..." Joel rubbed his forehead with his hand and closed his eyes for a moment, he still had your terrified face in front of him. "Did they? You know..."

He shook his head. "They didn't make it. She ran away when she had the chance."

“The scars and wounds will heal, but here…” Tommy touched his temple with a finger, and Joel nodded to show he understood. “A group will go tomorrow to see what happened there. She said there might have been ten of them, we’ll check it out.”

He noticed his brother straighten up, dark eyes looking at him carefully. "I'm going with them."

"Are you crazy!" Tommy snorted. "With your shoulder and when she's like this? Besides, she'd cut my balls off if she found out I let you go."

Joel stood up abruptly, slamming his hand on the table, anger written all over his face. "I have to find them. For what they did to her... Fuck! You didn't see her!"

The younger brother watched him carefully, but also with fear. He knew that in anger his brother could do terrible things, and although he wanted to get his hands on those men, he didn't want to risk him too. Finally he shook his head.

"No way. You should stay here. She needs you, more than ever."

"I can help you!" Joel hissed, already furious. "I can't wait here while they fucking torture her."

"No! I don't agree." Tommy continued. "This is a crazy idea."

"I don't fucking care! You don't know how I feel! I should be there, not her. I could have lost her too, do you understand?! I can't wait and do nothing!"

"But you will! Because she should be your priority right now, not revenge." He noticed that Joel's eyes were getting glassy, ​​he tried to hide it clumsily by looking away. "She's already saved my life, I'm grateful for that. So I can't let you risk yours, she wouldn't want that."

"You don't know what she wants." Joel snorted.

"She definitely wants you and Ellie to be safe. Listen..." he approached him and put his hand on his shoulder "We'll find those people. But you have to take care of her now and..."

The noise upstairs drew their attention. Quick footsteps, a slam of a door, and then another. Ellie's cry echoed downstairs.

"Joel! Quick!"

He and Tommy were upstairs in a flash, then burst into the bedroom. They saw a terrified Ellie, who pointed to the bathroom, and Joel guessed he'd find you there. When he entered, he saw you huddled by the toilet, spasms of retching racking your body, your shirt wet and stuck to your back.

"Baby..." he groaned, kneeling next to you and brushing your hair away.

You were unable to answer. Only Ellie, who slipped in behind them, spoke quietly.

"I don't know what happened. I must have fallen asleep... Suddenly she woke up screaming, jumped out of bed and... Joel, is she okay?" 

He didn't know what to answer. He saw Tommy's face, who was just as scared as he was.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven @underneath-the-sky-again

[lvrgirl-inc]

☆ ★ ☆

pair. Satoru Gojo x f!reader

wc. 1k

genres. House husband, stickers, smut, drabble, lowkey comedy, smut, riding, praise, teasing, “way to go superstar”, twt art, submissive(?) ‘Toru.

A/N: Random drabble written after seeing @baobei-bu ‘s twitter work (s) . Completely spontaneous. All credits to the artist, bravo.

☆ ★ ☆

————

There you were, stuffed full with delicious inches from your loving and ever the immature, Satoru. Large hands on your waist as you straddled his lap as your hips worked to suck him off with your body.

Panting like a dog and yet he still just looked..priceless. Not because of his facial expression, how he was biting down on his lip like it was the tastiest thing on earth, the grunts and whimpers that you earned with each slosh of your pussy—but the stickers.

Just a while before you two had gotten..well, here, you’d been showing off a sticker collection that the people at your job had acquired via cleaning the storage unit. Rainbows of multi and mono-colored cats, hearts, stars that had wound their way up on your boyfriend’s face. 

Though, when you’d placed one on his lips, using your own, he brought a thumb and his index up to your stomach. Just eyeing the expanse from fingertip to fingertip. Reasonably, you inquired what exactly he was doing and he breathed easily, “Just measuring.” 

“Measuring what?”

And absolutely nothing else came after that besides a lowering of those fluttering blanc lashes as he stared up at you. Already perched above him, covered in a few stickers, yourself.

Following that was easy for one to see how you were now riding a sticker-covered Satoru like your life depended on it.

The solo act of your cunt squelching and drooling all over his cock was interrupted by a sharp smack! directly to your ass, followed by an odd feeling in said location.

“Nghh..! ‘Toru, are you— f-fuck, are you kidding me..?” you’d complain in a breathless pant, looking down and over your shoulder a bit. Practically planted in the spot at this point, knees buckled and slack jawed just from his cock alone, this cheeky.. “Did you just- p-put a sticker on my—haah..!”

Swiftly cut off by another playful slap to the fat of your ass, he pulled that smug grin up at you, leaning forward to take up one of your perky tits into his mouth. He could probably never name another place or another taste better than his girls that always bounced so nicely when he was fucking you right. 

Gingerly sucking and tugging at your nipples, alternating between the two on either focal point of your breasts, you were reduced to a whiny mess on top of him easily. 

That straight shot just dragging and digging out your inner walls easily just as he pulled off your soft mound, replacing his mouth with the hand that wasn’t holding you spread nice for him. Looking up at you through that sweat dampened fringe of white. “Yeahhh, I gotta reward my lil’ superstar, don’t I?” he panted with the proudest smirk on his face. 

Bucking his hips up to meet yours one good time, your head cocked back with a mean jolt that went straight to your head. Fuck he hit that spot, dead-on too in a way that had your mouth hanging open dumbly. Nails scratching at his chest to a loose close.

You were just being wrecked. Drowned in praises with your insides clamping down around his thick shaft, the base giving your clit much needed attention with the steadily increasing succession of his dick’s mean pummeling up into you. 

And he had the nerve to slap another on the opposite cheek. “Bullseye~” in a sultry tone against your neck as he bit down on your collarbone, hooking his palms exactly where he’d slapped—two, now—stickers, using the hold to fuck himself mindlessly through your cunt. “Mhnn..s’fuckin’ tight…gold star every..time, fuuuck..” 

His voice would trail off, mouth coming back down to suckle on your tits again, laving his tongue all over your sensitive buds, even moaning with a good portion of the fatty flesh in his hot, wet maw. 

Giving you a rush of euphoria as you squeaked out the words, “Mhm, mhmm, jus’ like that, ‘Toru..” you’d breathlessly encourage, never stopping your own eager up and down as both of you selfishly chased your pleasure through the benefit of the other. “Shit, ‘m gonna cum..~” whining out as your face came down on his shoulder.

You could hear him groaning beside your head, his own leaning back as he raggedly, “Hnn..me too, me fuckin’ too..ughh..” already too lost in the feeling of your pussy crying down his cock and balls, dripping down his inner thighs easily as you started to clench and unclench around him faster.

“Gonna do it f’me, huuhh? Yeahh, yeah you are, my little star~” he rambled, his cock screwdriving your G-spot so precisely that you bit down on his shoulder, almost screaming into the skin there. “Hhh, f-fuck, gonna fill this cunt so fuckin’ good..God..”

And if Satoru was anything, he was honest. Selectively, albeit, but honest nonetheless. So when he whimpered against your skin in a pitch he only hit with you, or rather with your pussy, “Fuuck, mhnn, fucking…cummin’..” brows furrowed down to the hilts and the crown of his cock did the same thing inside you, seemingly nuzzling its way deeep in your guts.

Needless to say, you were right there with him, strangled moans tearing from your throat as your hips twisted and milked him for everything he had whilst he willingly dumped his load inside. Hot, velvety ropes of the stuff pouring down the sides of your inner walls as you both moaned through it, grinding each other straight into afterglow where Satoru reluctantly pulled out.

It was such a mess. Your cunt obscenely dripping with his handiwork. Using a thumb to slightly spread you out with the most perverse grin.

He took a second to adjust your positions, moving you from on his thighs to sort of bent over the couch arm, sated and trying to catch your breath. Meanwhile, he took the time to admire his little sticker job. Well, that and your utter exhaustion. “Pfft—did the stickers make you cum harder? It’s like praise within praise. Ah, I’m so clever.” coming from the man who was just whining your name over and over.

“Maybe they did..if I say yes, will you let me stack donuts on it?” now that made both of you cackle, even in your fucked-out and tired states.

He didn’t say no, though.

————

☆ ★ ☆

[rainbow-neko-artblog]

What was the biggest disappointment about the chapter in your opinion?

There was a lot of things- things I called from day one and said I would be disappointed with if they did. The list from most disappointing to least. Beware of spoilers:

-Ollie being the prototype: stupid stupid stupid stupid i hate it its such a blatant rip off of the mimic i hate it so fucking much no wonder chapter 4 was buggy to all hell when mob entertainment is stealing all its ideas from steal wool -The Doctor being the first ever straight up EVIL character in Poppy playtime, and yet somehow, the most disappointing. He had no reason to do the things he did- he was just bitter towards Ludwig for removing him from a program for his own good and was an asshole who tried to sabotage his whole company after his death, and continued to do so even when he was turned into a giant super computer. Despite all his boasting about the omni-hand giving him /god mode i feel like mommy long legs did a better job at rigging things against us while the doctor barely makes an attempt. Its like he doesn't even want to live anymore. Hell I'm not even convinced half of what we do to him was necessary- he didn't need the meaty bits to continue talking- so why did he have them anyways? STUPID. STUPID. STUPID. I'm going to shove him into a Tamagotchi. -The omni hand is a copout. why the FUCK does it have a set number of charges- what if an administrator got stuck in a room with no charges left. DUMB. dumb. so dumb. -Poppy getting mad at us for killing doey as if we wanted to, as if we werent all tricked, thats always broken my immersion in games- when characters get mad at you for the plot. It's like- I WOULDNT HAVE CHOSEN TO DO IT MYSELF!!! -It would have been EASY to get Doey back to his senses, because the tape to do so was literally like 3 rooms from where we killed him- and the doctor had given us choices before. so why didn't we get choices to save Doey here? -One of the tapes shows a reflection of our character, revealing that we are infact 100% human- unless there's a toy stuffed into that hazmat suit we got on. -Mob entertainment has a habit of giving us cutouts for characters with absolutely no screentime and it pisses me off. The nightmare critters were obviously a money grab because of the success of the smiling critters, there wasn't a single section that included them that I didn't think could have easily been replaced with the Smiling critters. YET THEY DIDN'T EVEN GIVE US CUTOUTS. I continue to hate the nightmare critters.

THE ONLY GOOD THING that came from this chapter is that people will stop yelling at me about Dogday being Dr. White because they share the same voice actor- because its been officially debunked that Poppy isn't Stella Graybur even though they share a voice actor. Voice actor connections have no sway in which humans end up in which toys in lore, and MAN does that make me feel so vindicated.

[lascvitae]

if its okay can i request aespa as your gf headcanons please… i literally love your writing soo much

—🎧

♯┆aespa as your girlfriend .ᐟ

synopsis. aespa as your girlfriend headcanons!!

pairing. aespa x fem!reader warnings. kinda suggestive?? genre. fluff!

now playing. every summertime by niki thinkin bout you by katie only by leehi sweet & easy by wonder girls bonnie & clyde by yuqi girl by oceanfromtheblue raise y_our glass by huh yunjin summer in love by saay die for you by the weeknd

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ katty ᥫ᭡: YOOO HI OFCCC 😻😻😻 sorry it’s so late i literally fell asleep earlier LOLZ also another double post i spoil yall sm 😔😔

masterlist.

───𝓚ARINA

☒ would LOVEEEE teasing you, like you wouldn’t ever get a break

☒ “what’d you say about my hairstyle again that one time?” with a large smirk on her face.

☒ wouldn’t be able to keep her hands off of you, expect a lot of skinship

☒ shows you all the songs she has obsessions with

☒ “baby listen to this! it reminds me of us” 🥺

☒ very attentive, knows everything about you and notices everything about you

☒ SOOO cheesy like such a loser for you

☒ listens to you while you yap about your interests

☒ would watch all your favorite shows with you

☒ loves buying you things, no matter the price

☒ “i saw you looking at this when we went shopping so i got it for you!”

☒ her favorite dates with you would be the ones where you’re indoors, cuddling eachother and watching a movie

☒ very protective of you and can get jealous, even tho she won’t show it ☹️☹️ (you can always tell when she pouts)

☒ your pain is definitely her pain

☒ “hey, hey, hey. who said that? who said you aren’t good enough? you’re perfect, angel. and if not to the rest of the world then to most. me, all of aespa, your friends. we see how beautiful you are.”

☒ leaves cute little messages for you after that, her baby has to see how much she means to her

☒ loves to kiss your forehead, stems from her being so caring

☒ appreciates you so much && shows it in ANY way she possibly can

─── 𝓖ISELLE

☒ loves taking pictures of you. i just know it. YOUR BIGGEST SIMP

☒ “why are you laughing aeri??” “oh, nothing. i was just looking at this picture i took of you the other day.”

☒ your biggest fan, like she cheers for every single accomplishment you get

☒ looks at you with hearts in her eyes whenever you speak

☒ LOVES to bicker with you playfully, she’d be such a fun and silly gf

☒ “can we go get crumbl??” “i guess… only because i want cookies though” 🙄

☒ shows you off in any way she possibly can, has a whole folder for you

☒ “oh her? nah, she ain’t a model. she’s my girlfriend.” so cheesy

☒ all her captions would be love songs, girl’s in deep

☒ expect random compliments and ‘i love yous’

☒ absolutely LOVES when you wear her clothes, probably buys them only thinking you would wear them

☒ loves going on late night drives with you & listening music

☒ loves to makeout with you in the car

☒ her favorite dates with you would be at the arcade or amusement park, mostly bc she loves the little games you guys play, even if they’re dumb af

☒ “i bet i can beat you in mario kart!” “you wish!”

☒ “i can eat my ice cream faster than you.” “as if.”

☒ puts you first always, there’s nothing more important to her

☒ loves kissing your hand because she noticed it calms you down and it’s also something quick (since she loves kissing you sm)

───𝓦INTER

☒ puppy gf puppy gf PUPPY GF

☒ did i mention shes a puppy gf?

☒ look… ima try my hardest not to be biased bc i love me some minjeong 🫦🫦

☒ clingy af

☒ extremely giggly around you, thinks you’re the funniest person on earth

☒ has on her rose tinted glasses on around you ALWAYS

☒ like in her head yall are two cats in love with eachother

☒ the shy girlfriend that always wants your attention && is secretly weird af

☒ loves when you play with her hair, especially after a long day of practice

☒ LOVES sleeping/laying in bed with you

☒ just loves doing anything with you actually

☒ can sit with you in silence and mumble ‘i love you’ after every few minutes

☒ “mm… five more minutes?”

☒ loves to go on shopping sprees with you but her favorite dates would be the ones where you guys go stargazing or sightseeing

☒ imagine you and minjeong sitting at the picnic blanket, pointing at all the different stars and comparing them to each other

☒ “this is nothing compared to your eyes.” “you’re so cheesy, y/n!” she loves it

☒ always asking you what hair color she should get next, she just values your opinion sm

☒ loves hanging out with you

☒ she loves teaching you things

☒ loves kissing your lips bc it’s the sweetest form of affection to her

☒ you’re one of her biggest motivators, like she loves bringing you to the studio and to photoshoots

☒ “i’ll just only be a few minutes late on stage… i wanna stay in bed with you a little longer.” you can never say no to her

───𝓝INGNING

☒ so down bad for you

☒ everyone will point out how happy shes been lately and she’ll just laugh and go “yeah, i started talking to y/n” with the most obvious blush ever

☒ loves talking to you… your voice is her favorite song

☒ could spend everyday on the phone with you fr

☒ loves singing to you, would always be serenading you

☒ makes you playlists 24/7 and sings the songs when you listen to them together

☒ loves making vlogs & videos with you

☒ “hey guys! me and the wife just got chipotle and she found an ant in her food!! it’s real y’all…” “oh my god ning—“ and the video ends there

☒ takes pictures of you when she thinks you aren’t looking then laughs it off once she gets caught

☒ her favorite dates would be the ones where yall go out to eat (and always get a noise complaint)

☒ she would just love going out with you period, no matter where

☒ “y/n look at this” as she pulls the bangs back on the wednesday doll…

☒ loves the giddy feeling she gets when you cheer her on, makes her want to work harder

☒ loves to post subtle things about you, she loves the idea of being in love with you

☒ lets you hear all of the aespa demo songs and see all their albums before they come out (even sneaks you one)

☒ loves holding your hand, like she will drag you along when shes excited

☒ still finds it so crazy that yall are together… she just loves you so bad fr

☒ loves it when you kiss her cheeks and loves kissing your nose

☒ matching fits

☒ “can i post this on instagram? i want everyone to see how pretty we look together.”

permanent taglist — @saysirhc

[justastraymoa]

Yet Unnamed

Chapter 7

Masterlist

🥳Y/n first date🥳

Warnings for Yet Unnamed: Kidnapping, cuffs, injuries, drugging by injection, mentions of needles, lots of swearing, kissing, fluff, angst, idiots in love all around, sharp weapons being thrown for fun, zombies.

Nothing within reflects anyone or anything irl. Pics off pinterest.

Your ‘Introducing our 9th member’ YouTube video was being filmed today.  You were in a room just a couple of doors down from where the boys were going to shoot their part of the video.  But while they were together, you would be all alone, and you were terrified.

“I can’t do this.”  You were nearly hyperventilating as you stood on the set.  Your knees felt like jelly in a bad way and your mind raced with all the worst outcomes.  You paced and fidgeted through hair and makeup, struggling to get into your outfit because your hands shook so badly.

Chan stayed with you for as long as he could.  He stopped your pacing and rubbed the tops of your arms from behind as you both looked at the set again.  “Yes, you can.  It’s just questions about you.  Be yourself.  Be honest.”  He replied.

The problem was you suddenly had no idea who you were.  What was your favorite color?  Are you a cat or dog person?  What did you fucking do for fun?  You had no fucking clue anymore.

You turned from the set.  Because this was going on YouTube you had planned most of it and you would also edit together the video later, but you had actively been avoiding thinking about your part in the actual footage.  You have never been on camera like this before.  Millions and millions of people would watch this video and judge everything you said and did.  They would ruthlessly rate how you looked down to every individual eyelash.  You would be MEMEd and GIFed within minutes of the video premiere.

“We can just release the photos and write a blurb about me on the caption.  They don’t need to know me.  They really don’t care.”  You argued nerves getting the better of you.

Chan smiled at you softly and kissed your forehead, completely understanding your panic.  “You can do this.  STAY will love learning about you.  And you have all of us in the studio down the hall if you need anything.  We will keep our phones on.  Call or text any of us, and we will be over in a flash.”  He promised.  He held your face in his hands, careful not to smear your makeup.

He took a deep, purposefully slow breath, waiting for you to follow his lead.  Then he took another, and another.  Until your nerves were at a more manageable level.  For now.

Chan stood just off camera as you waited in the comfy plush white chair.  Final checks and adjustments were being made.  This part was all director and camera work.  Your work came before and after this.

Before you knew it, they were calling Chris away to start their own checks, and he was waving one last time before leaving you alone.

You tucked your phone away with another deep breath.  You can do this.  You can do this.  You can do this.  You don’t have a choice.  You already committed.  You can do this.

The interviewer cleared their throat and began.  “So start with your name.”

You plastered on the practiced pleasant face you had been working on.  “My name is l/n f/n, and I am the 9th and final member of what is known as the Stray Kids soul group.

“How did you find out you were the 9th member?”

This was the whole reason we were doing this interview.  Hopefully to stop anyone from ever finding out you were kidnapped and drugged into this situation.  Not that you didn’t choose to and want to stay.  You didn’t regret your choice at all.  Not even once.  “It was actually JYP who found me using his incredible reach and resources.  He brought me to Korea as a surprise to Stray Kids.”  It physically hurt to say anything decent about that disgusting man, but it was a necessary evil.  And the story was close enough to the actual truth to be an easy lie to keep.

“Were their any issues in the beginning?  Beyond the language barrier?”

You blinked.  You had come up with and approved the questions, but the language barrier part was improvised by the interviewer and unexpected.  Though you had agreed to some improvisation to make it seem more like a conversation, it still caught you off guard.

“They do not know it, but I am fluent in Korean.  I learned from my grandfather at a young age.  He taught me everything about my culture and heritage.  It was very important to him.”

Now it was the interviewers turn to blink, stunned and thrown off.  They recovered quickly, though, and immediately switched languages.

“You never told them?”

You shrug with a playful smile.  “They never asked.  It was never an issue.  They all speak English well enough.  And I was curious about what they would say if they thought I didn’t know what they were saying.”

“Well they will certainly know now.  What do you think their reactions will be?”

“I think they will be shocked.  It will be fun to see their faces when they realize.”

You were relaxing into the interview now.  You had found the groove and were feeling good about how this was progressing.  The questions about your speaking Korean got you off track, but in a good and natural way.

Plus, it gave you an idea.  You would need to record their reactions later when they find out.  It would be entertaining and fun.  Something STAY would enjoy watching as much as you will.

Your interview ended first, which wasn’t shocking.  Their answers would take longer because there were more of them.  You still stayed off their set though, so they would feel free to answer honestly.  You would see their video later when you edit it anyways.

Instead, you doom scroll online and sent funny Stray Kids memes to the boys. Spamming them with themselves. You found it endlessly funny to find ones that make you crack up and share them with the boys. They had the best reactions.

But only a few memes in Lino appeared and dragged you gleefully to their set. It was the same color scheme as yours was. But instead of a single chair there was two overstuffed couches and a coffee table with some snacks. They had several pillow and fluffy blankets to use and get comfy with. It was meant to be a cozy, comfortable chat.

You werent supposed to be a part of their interview. This wasnt in the script. "You are missing the point of having seperate interviews." You point out as Lino set you firmly between him and Hyunjin.

Hyunjin thew an arm around your shoulders. "We missed you."

"And you were blowing up our phones with memes." Chan rolled his eyes.

"Hey, I love looking at Stray Kids memes! I'll always be a STAY at heart. Now your number one fan!" You wink at Chan teasingly, making red dust his cheeks.

"We are almost done anyways. We spilled all the dirt on you already." Seungmin munched on a snack from the coffee table.

"Oh good. I feel less guilty now about spilling the tea on you." You didnt actually spill any Stray Kids tea and you doubted they spilled dirt on you, this was all banter for the camera.

For the next fifteen minutes you cuddled on the couches, chatted, and played around. You honestly forgot that you were being filmed or that there were staff in the room watching you. It was just you and your soulmates chilling, like any night at home.

~

The next morning over breakfast you noticed Chan acting fidgety. He kept glancing over at you as you scrolled through the socials you hadn't deleted yet and caught up on emails.

They had already sent you the raw footage from the interviews to edit together. But you weren't going to work on it today. Today was your day off and you were going to try very hard not to work.

"What's on your mind, Channie?" You finally asked clunking your phone onto the tabletop.

Chan coughed, choking slightly on his food as he was called out. Bin smacked his back and Lino rolled his eyes. "Can't even eat properly. Getting old enough that we have to puree your food before giving it to you?" Lino teased. You kicked his chair and gave him a look to be nice. In response he stood and left the room, coffee in hand.

"Chan? Everything okay?" You ask again when he was back in control of himself.

He cleared his throat twice to buy himself some time. "We haven't really talked about it. Just kind of brushed by. But we were talking and decided to ask. You can always say no. We would respect that one hundred percent! And it wouldn't change anything if you did! Promise!" He started rambling. Words vomiting out of his mouth that made sense but had no context for you to understand what he was referring to.

You really had no idea what he was trying to get at. He hadn't asked a question for you to say yes or no to. He hadn't even alluded to a question. Did he expect you to be able to read his mind? Because while you were learning the little tells of your soulmates, you had yet to master reading their mind. That would take more time.

Bin cut Chan off eventually, ending his rant and clearing things up for you. "We wanted to know if you want to go on dates with us. Individually and group dates. Like we do with each other already."

"Yes. That." Chan agreed letting out a breath and giving Bin a thankful look full of relief.

You bit your lip to stop from smiling as you felt like being a gremlin and teasing the man a bit. "Yes what, Chan?"

"Ugh, really?" Chan immediately caught on to your teasing.

Hey, if you were going to be asked out on your first date from a soul mate, it was going to be done properly. There would only be one time that you got to go on your first date with Chan and it would be done right, damn it. Even if you had to tease it out of him. You smiled and waited patiently, sneaking a teasing glance at Bin.

Chan sucked his teeth. "Willyougoonadatewithme?" His mouth didn't even move as he spoke quickly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't get that. Say again?"

"You make me regret this already." Chan sighed pinching the bridge of his nose. Bin laughed. "Will you, Y/n, my sweet, sweet, loving and beautiful soul mate. Who likes me enough to at least put me out of my misery one way or another. Will you please go on a date with me?"

"I would love to go on a date with you, my handsome Channie." You answer trying to hold back the giggles from his over the top third attempt at asking you out.

"Really? You want to try and be romantic with us?" Chan seemed surprised by your acceptance.

"I mean yeah. I thought we were naturally heading that direction." It's not like you hadn't been affectionate with each other. It was little things right now. Cheek kisses, hugs, cuddles, sneaky head kisses. But affection nonetheless.

"Awesome! I'm first. We are going in age order to keep it fair and not cause arguments." He explained.

You shrugged. "I know nothing about that. You are the only one who has asked me out." If he didn't think you would make each and every one of them properly ask you out, he did not know you well enough yet. You were going to drag them through asking you out just like you had Chan. And you would savor each and every memory from it.

"Thats their problem. Can you go today? Because I kinda already have a date planned."

"You have the date planned already even though you didn't know if I would say yes or not?"

"Well I figured if you said no, I could still take you just to have fun together in a nonromantic date way." He shrugged.

You wanted to coo. He had thought a lot about this date. Thinking through all possibilities so you would be comfortable. It was very sweet of him.

"What should I wear?" You asked.

"Casual. Movable. I would suggest pants." He informed. "I'll pick you up in 2 hours?"

You paused. "We live together. Where are you picking me up from?"

"Your room, obviously! It's our first date, let me do it right, Y/n, gosh!"

"Okay sorry! Two hours, my room. Got it." You fake salute him with 2 casual fingers.

Bin snorted, quietly watching your whole exchange. "You are such a nerd." He pushed at Chan playfully.

"Maybe. But this nerd has a date!" Chan shouted that last bit throughout the apartment. He stood with a huge smile and put his dishes away before coming to give you a kiss on the cheek and leaving the room with a bounce in his step.

Just over 2 hours later you laughed in delight when you saw where he was taking you. "Axe throwing! I've never done it before!" You took his offered hand as he opened the car door for you, and you went to the front desk.

"I saw you watching videos a couple times and thought it looked fun. I've never done it either." Chan admitted. This was new for both of you then. It will be fun to learn it together. And most likely be really bad at it together.

The instructor led you to a 'lane' and demonstrated how to throw an axe and a star. There were several projected fames you could also play so you weren't just throwing axes at a wooden board over and over again. It included tictac toe, hangman, and a zombie killing game.

You of course started with killing some zombies. You expected to miss every time since you had never thrown either weapon before, so you shrieked in happiness when your very first throw stuck into the wooden wall without a problem.

"Aha! You see that! It actually stayed!" You hopped and thew you arms around Chan, already having the time of your freaking life!

Chan laughed in delight and caught you with a huge smile on his face. "And you got a zombie first try!" He pointed out.

"Your turn! Your turn!"

You spent the hour and a half time limit playing each game in turn, the smile never leaving your face. And you only stabbed yourself once with the sharp point of the throwing star. You hadn't even really noticed, but Chan immediately did.

As soon as he saw the tiny drop of blood on the back of your hand, he worriedly grabbed it. It was no more than you would get at the doctor from a finger prick test.

"It's okay, babe. I just wasn't careful when I removed it from the wall and one of the points got me. It doesn't even hurt." You vaguely panicked when you realized you let a pet name slip, but Chan didn't notice, to preoccupied digging into his pocket.

Amazingly, he pulled out a band aid and antibiotic ointment. "You brought first aid?" You asked him in shock.

He ignored the obvious question. "You should still take care of it. Don't want it to get infected or scar." He mumbled brow furrowed in concentration as he nursed your hand.

You melted. He thought ahead so much that he came prepared with first aid in case something happened with the sharp weapons you were going to be using. He really prepared for everything.

Sighing in fond exasperation, you were completely smitten with him and his caring personality.

When your time was up for axe throwing, he took you for some food nearby, both of you still smiling.

"This was super fun, Channie. Thank you so much!" You were swinging your hands between you as you walked slowly back to the car, enjoying your time just you and him.

"Thank you for agreeing to come. Especially since we gotta be so careful and secretive in public." He responded.

It's true, though you hadn't really noticed it much, too focused on the man you were with and how much fun you were having. You both had to disguise yourself out in public so no one would see you together and spoil the upcoming reveal. You had easily accepted it as the norm when he brought it up at the beginning of the date.

Once inside the security of your apartment building, he immediately removed the disguises, looking relieved. You giggled and mussed his flattened hair into something a bit better. He let you, with a thanks and smirk when you were satisfied.

In the elevator, you didn't let yourself overthink it. You leaned in and pecked his lips before moving away again and looking ahead.

However, he caught your wrist gently in his fingers and slid his other hand to cradle your face and neck as he pulled you close again. You met the kiss halfway this time. The kiss was still a mild one but lasting much longer than your peck on the lips, and you let your body melt against his.

You eventually made it back to the apartment, sharing one last kiss before rejoining the others.

Lino appeared as you were removing your shoes, his arms crossed.

"Finally! I thought we were going to need to send a search party for you! We need to set a curfew." He chastized.

"Lino, hun, it's not even dark out." You pointed out patting his shoulder as you used it for balance.

"A time limit then. Or check in points. Something!"

I looked up at him. "Do you do that with your other dates?"

"No, but it's different with you!"

Chan kissed Linos's cheek in greeting. "Sorry we worried you. We will check in next time." He promised soothing Lino gently.

Linos posture relaxed. "It's just. You know there are dangerous fans out there. It's a risk to let your guard down too much." He sighed.

You were reminded again how different your life was going to be now with Stray Kids. Even a simple date was more of a risk. Going out in public at all was putting yourselves in danger. Not just from being recognized, but to be mobbed as well. And if we weren't careful, someone could overhear or see something that could damage Stray Kids' reputation. The realization was kind of mind-boggling.

"Hey, you're back! How was it?" Felix asked as soon as he saw us. He didn't seem to be as worried as Lino was.

You felt your face light up as you remembered. "Amazing! We went axe throwing! It was so fucking fun!" You gushed. You immediately brought out your phone to show off the pictures you took.

"Hyung setting the date bar high, huh?"

"It's not a competition, Lix."

Lix laughed through his nose with a half smile.

"We are a group of eight men and one woman. Everything is a competition when it comes to you." Lino stated. Chan and Lix nodded in agreement. You sighed and rolled your eyes.

The rest of your day off was spent catching up on chores and unpacking the boxes of your stuff that had finally arrived. You also needed to build a bookshelf you bought. It had been leaning on your wall since it had been delivered. You were procrastinating the headache and frustration of building the damn thing.

So, keeping up with ignoring things you didn't want to do - or build - you started by unpacking what you could without the shelf. Mostly what little clothes you decided were worth keeping, and the collectables you couldn't bring yourself to give up.

Admittedly a lot of the collectables were Stray Kids and other K-pop memorabilia. Other groups that you stanned. You couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed by all of it for the first time in your life. But there was no way you could let it all go.

So, you hung up your fan made OT8 skzoo art in the frames on the tree Hyunjin painted and set up your skzoo plushie collection on your dresser. Your multiple K-pop shirts got put away carefully and the acrylic stands went on the dresser and desk. One or two even on the bedside tables.

After a few more sentimental items were set up or put away, you could no longer ignore the bookshelf. You were at a point that you could no longer put the rest away without it. Everything left was set to be displayed on it.

You dumped the boxes contents unceremoniously on the floor before looking for the instructions that got buried. The noise attracted a curious Han.

"Oh! It's so cute in here!" He complimented looking around at the new additions.

You flapped your hands at him, blushing. "Stop looking! I was STAY before ever meeting you, I couldn't just let all this stuff go! I spent years and a lot of money collecting it!"

"You are too cute!" He gushed just a little teasing.

You sighed. "Whatever. You may not want to stay in here. I'm about to curse a lot trying to put this stupid shelf together."

"Want some help?"

"Thank you for the offer, but it's okay."

"You sure? I don't mind. I kinda like doing stuff like this. Plus, it will go faster with two people."

Yah, true, sure. But You were used to doing things alone and you just knew you would get frustrated and snap at Han. Then later you would feel terrible. This was all still too new and you didn't want to hurt any of them on any day, but you really didn't want to make them hate you and send you away.

But still, the offer was tempting. "Okay. I'm sorry in advance, though, for anything I may say or do." You warned him

Han waved you off with an easy smile and sat on the floor across from you. "Don't worry about it. I understand."

Together you open the instructions and lay it flat on the floor. There were a lot. It unfolded to poster size or bigger. Sure, it had pictures, but not nearly enough to make up for the sheer number of instructions there were.

You suddenly regret every decision that led you to this moment right here. The work ahead of you seemed so daunting and impossible.

"Okay. It's a shelf. Can't be too difficult." Han said quietly, more to himself to you.

As it turns out, even building furniture is better with your soulmates. Han had this cute little frustrated pout that melted your own frustration any time you saw it. In between the two of you and the directions in two different languages, you were managing to figure the shelf out well enough.

"I think we put this piece on upside down." You said tilting your head sideways.

Han studied the shelf, then the picture on the directions intently. "Damn it. We did. Fucker!" He concluded.

You laugh as his pout increased and he began to grumble under his breath while removing the upside-down piece. Your laugh made him look over at you, and something he saw made the frustration leave his facial features and be replaced by a soft smile.

Finally, after 90 minutes, you both dusted off your hands and stood back, admiring your handiwork. He helped you move your new, extremely heavy, 5-teir bookshelf to a nice blank spot on a wall. It fit perfectly.

"Now you just got to fill it up." Han sighed. He flopped on your bed and made himself comfortable.

You kick the box half full of books, albums, and photocard binders gently with your bare toe. "That's the easy part."

You bent and grabbed some books first. You had kept several of your favorites that had beautiful dust covers or printed edges. Some were signed by the author. And some were just your favorites. Worn down from being read over and over again.

You place them on the shelf in such a way that it displayed the beautiful art or edges. You took great pride in your little collection. And you would have fun collecting more and adding them to the empty spaces you still had on the shelf.

The albums came next. You had acrylic stands for displaying your favorites or the ones with amazing covers. They are placed just so to show them off.

The photocard binders are something that you spent a lot of time on and were very particular about how they went on the shelf. You didn't really display them like the books or albums. There were a select few favorites in protective cases and displayed, but very few. The binders went on by group and placed in timeline order within their respective groups. You were slightly OCD about it, and it drove you nuts when anyone messed with them.

Finally finished unpacking, you glanced over at Han and noticed with a start that he had fallen asleep watching you finish your room. You carefully grab a blanket and drape it over him, tucking him in gently. It was late, and he had stayed up to help you. The least you could do was leave him to sleep. And you really didn't mind sharing the bed with him for the night.

Quickly and quietly changing into your pjs, you crawled slowly into the bed next to him, scootching under your comforter carefully and flipping off the light. Relaxing when your movements didn't wake him up. To prevent gossip and rumors among the group, you left the door open. You weren't sure how 'that' part of the relationships worked yet and didn't want to cause problems.

It was odd sleeping with another body next to you. You were used to sleeping alone. But that being said, you fell asleep quickly and deeply. Feeling content and secure among your soulmates, and doubly so with one closer than usual.

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General Taglist @stellasays45 @beebee18 @weird-bookworm @velvetmoonlght

[hermiones-amortentia]

A stalker who stalks everyone on every app talking about being a 'lurker' oh the irony.

Idgaf it was 10 years ago or 20 years ago. The bottom line is it happened. Y'all started Ron bashing and it was so bad that even JKR said 'Ron has suffered the worst in the hands of Harry/Hermione shippers'. Imagine even the author talking about the shit you guys spew.

Even till today your sub is full of people who hate Ron and anyone who even mildly dares to defend Ron on that sub gets downvoted into oblivion. I already checked that when I was still using reddit. Checked a post few months ago 'honestly don't understand how Hermione ended up with Ron. He is a bully abuser to her' the whole post is about this which the mods later deleted because 'it was not relevant to the topic' that post also got one of the highest ever upvotes on that sub lolol even before mods deleting it. My friend over on reddit shared the post to me. What does 'ron ending up with Hermione' have anything to do with harry/Hermione again? Yeah nothing. Y'all just wants to shit all over romione(more than hinny) bcz

1. Romione is way more popular than hinny and more well loved. So it's a bigger threat to you.

2. Deleting Ginny is easy. She doesn't exist properly until book 5. However deleting Ron is tough. He has been with Harry and Hermione since book 1. So you gotta resort to bashing and ooc characterization.

3. Hinny is similar to Harmony. Female character worshipping the lead male character. While romione is more female coded which you guys don't understand(if Ron was rich and an aristocrat dramiones would have understood our ship because their ship is also primarily for women 😂)

And I don't really care what dramiones do. Really. I put them in the same box as you guys. Them=you=fanon shippers=Ron haters. To me only two kind of people exist in hp fandom.

1. Romiones

2. Anti Romiones.

So by default y'all are in the same box with dramione snamione tomione greymione lucimione and all other miones except romione. Lol

The hate that Harmione gets is actually so funny and over-exaggerated 😭

It’s quite literally one of the most innocent and non-problematic ships there is, yet it constantly gets dogged on so hard by so many people (typically Romione shippers) and treated like it’s the most immoral and disgusting ship out there.

I could totally understand people disliking the shippers (there are obnoxious shippers for every ship) or the fact that Ron, for whatever reason, gets heavily bashed in the fics, as I also absolutely hate that, but the ship itself is completely harmless and fine. Nothing is wrong with the ship; people are just overly dramatic and childish.

[great-septimus]

Hey, so I don't want to be that guy, but when are we going to acknowledge that Akechi was right?

No, I obviously don't mean about the things he was very clearly wrong about. I'm referring to the things he says in interviews about the Phantom Thieves. I hate how many people switch up after playing through his betrayal who previously agreed with his views, because nothing he said is wrong and nothing he did changes that fact. He speaks in the TV Station on the objective facts that he should know about, and with or without the context of his form of justice those facts stay true. It's a fallacy to claim that his form of justice being universally less approved of makes the Phantom Thieves better by comparison, or discredits anything he said. I don't think the Phantom Thieves are evil, or that they should necessarily be imprisoned, but I do think that they are not morally sound. They're kids. Prior to his betrayal I think he served his purpose well, but it's easy to disregard the validity of his words when you find out that he's a murderer. With the knowledge he SHOULD have had (and that many DID have), everything he says is true. And honestly? It still can be true for basically the entire plot of the game. Mishima's confidant tests the thieves in that way. They could have changed the hearts of anyone who's not a persona user, for any personal reason. It's a slippery slope.

I'll use these three options as an example for why he's right:

"They're justice itself" is just subjective and incorrect, because justice as a concept is individualized and given how each Phantom Thief has different reasons for being one it's ridiculous for even them to say. Their first target was before they even formed a group, and Ann was ready to kill Kamoshida. The others were not even going to step in, and they were going to respect her choice either way. All the members are so different, so this is an insane claim to make.

"They're necessary" is wrong because to say they are necessary is pretty disingenuous to all "justice" that has ever happened BEFORE they existed. I don't believe that the Thieves were a necessity per say, and personally I think their actions can only be judged on a case by case basis. Some Mementos targets for example have issues that stem beyond what they have done. Now they have their desires stolen but still have the issue that pushed them to immortality in the first place, plus a shitton of guilty baggage. The Thieves only help with the atonement, but not the push. How many of those people didn't just go right back to their past behaviors? How many of them got worse in other ways? Think about Futaba, she felt so guilty for something she thought she did, she formed a palace to condemn herself to die alone. To claim the Thieves are necessary to reform society implies that their method is the most effective, and I think that's a lot to claim for something they don't understand.

"They do more than the cops" I almost agree with. Legally the police in Japan in this game anyway (yes I'm aware it extends to reality in many ways, but I'm referring to just the game right now) are corrupt and flawed for the most part, but the thing I don't agree with is that this makes the Thieves a better alternative. They're not. For the same reason Yoshizawa says later, the Thieves can only do so much as vigilantes, and to imply that society should rely on these faceless nameless flawed people to fix society is not any better than what they have now. Especially with the method being unknown, potentially unsafe, and easily exploitable. I cannot be the only one who if the Phantom Thieves were real, would be extremely alarmed by the prospect of a group of vigilantes "changing hearts" right? It's so vague, and the pattern is dystopian. At least police methods are familiar

What I'm saying is that they're kids, and it's kind of insane that this game places Akechi as the narrative foil for the Thieves in their message and then makes it so easy to disregard because "he's an assassin so how could he know anything about justice". The Thieves don't either, and Ann was nearly a murderer. If the bar is "don't commit murder when you're infiltrating someone's mind" then it's far too low. I wouldn't trust a group of adults with this power to reform society, even less a group of teenage vigilantes. I'm 19, and I find this odd. And Strikers frames them as even more righteous, and it bugs me even more in that game. At least Royal has the third semester to give a bit more nuance to how big of a responsibility Ren was given, but that's also very frequently misinterpreted.

I love this game, and I love this fandom, and I have thoughts that get weird and ranty. I apologize, but I hope you all found this as interesting as I did.