#but! if you want to do this just pretend i did tag you

[joemama-2]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ a symphony of silence

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ synopsis: if you want to know what it’s like to love someone who was never yours, ask gojo satoru.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ tags/warnings: angst, unrequited love, crying, happy ending, talks of soulmates

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ wc: 5.5k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ a/n: thank you all so much for 1k followers!! I appreciate every bit of love and support I have received and I hope with this new year, I can make you all happy with my work. :) this is just a little thing, but I really hope u guys enjoy it. as always, have a wonderful day and eat well!

The days feel brighter with you. 

No amount of paperwork, miscalculations, messed up orders can change the light you bring into his life. The moment he met you, he knew it was strange. Feeling himself being reeled in like a fish too quickly scared him. But if you asked him that question, he’d never admit his fear. 

His smile had a mind of its own, curling up in a subconscious way whenever you so much as spared him a fleeting glance. And when you smiled at him? He was on cloud nine. His heart beat faster and stomach fluttered like a little schoolboy when he was in your vicinity. 

But he was always careful. So careful, too careful. Like the way someone treads lightly around a fragile thing they can never keep. You were so full of life, so innocent in your joy, and he was nothing but a darkened silhouette in the background.

He knew what you deserved, and it wasn’t him. Not a man like him, burdened with secrets and a past he couldn’t shake off. And you? You were meant for someone who could offer the world, not someone like him who could barely provide anything but a fleeting moment of warmth.

He had a way of slipping into your presence unnoticed, his longing buried deep within the corners of his chest. When he laughed at your jokes, it was because he couldn’t bear the thought of you seeing through him, of knowing just how badly he wanted to be more than a passing acquaintance. He wanted to reach out, touch your hand, but the words always died in his throat, swallowed by the fear of your rejection.

He knew the truth, though. You would never see him as he saw you. You would never feel that electric pull, that magnetic force that lured him to you in ways he couldn’t explain, ways he would never allow himself to. Because it would hurt too much, to love someone who didn’t even know.

The days grew brighter with you, but in the back of his mind, he could feel the darkness creeping in. He was just a shadow in your life, and nothing more. And it was enough for him, even if it meant living in a love that would never be returned. As long as you were happy. As long as you smiled. That was all he could ever ask for. He sometimes joked with himself about just saying ‘fuck it’ and getting down on one knee for you. He would. 

Too bad his best friend had the balls to do it before he did. 

He saw it coming, of course. You and Suguru have been together for five years. He was there through every phase of your growing relationship, a background character in a main couple’s story. It’s why he felt guilty about his feelings—his thoughts. But he always justified it with a he knew you first. 

He watched the way Suguru could make you laugh with the simplest words, how your eyes lit up when he held you close. It was the kind of love that made the world feel like it had all the right answers—answers he never had. He shouldn’t be pining after you. You were Suguru’s, and the world had made that clear. But there was always a part of him that entertained the what ifs. He was there before Suguru, before the smiles and the promises, before the certainty of love that seemed to hold you two together like a force stronger than gravity.

And yet, here he was, helpless. Watching you slip further away, like sand through his fingers. You were so easy to love, and so impossible to have.

He’d gotten good at keeping his distance. At laughing along with Suguru’s jokes, at pretending to be happy for the both of you. But inside, it was a constant ache, a pain that never went away, no matter how many times he buried it under a mask of smiles and camaraderie. He wondered if you ever noticed the way he looked at you. The quiet longing that always seemed to flicker in his eyes when you spoke. But you never did. How could you? You were too wrapped up in the love you had with Suguru to ever see the way his heart twisted with every word you spoke, every touch you gave.

But maybe, just maybe, he could keep pretending. Keep pretending that your happiness meant more than his own. Because that’s what love was, right? Sacrificing for the one you cared about, even if they never knew the weight of it.

“Are you happy, Satoru?”

Your question was simple enough, but you really had no idea just how much weight it held. Not like he would tell you. His head tilts, playfully smiling. “Happy? Why do you ask, hm?”

“I’ve just been wondering…” you mutter, tracing your glass rim with a manicured nail. Looking up at him in such a way that makes him want to wrap his arms around your body and hold on tight. “I don’t want to be invasive, but sometimes it just feels…faked.”

Huh, so you’re not as oblivious as he thought you were. 

But your words hit him like a cold wave, a shock to his system. You had no idea. You never would. The smile on his face falters for just a moment, yet it’s enough. Enough to make him feel like he’s exposed, vulnerable, like you might see right through the layers he’d spent so long building up.

Faked.

That word stings more than anything else you could’ve said. Because, in some twisted way, you were right. He had spent so long pretending, so long wearing a mask that even he had begun to forget what it was like to feel anything real. What it was like to want something for himself, to let someone in without fear.

He takes a slow breath, his gaze softening, eyes flicking to the side, pretending to consider the question. “I’m happy. Why wouldn’t I be?” His voice is casual, a practiced indifference, but inside, his heart is pounding.

You don’t buy it. You never did.

“I don’t know, Satoru. You always seem so… distant. Like you’re somewhere else, even when you’re here.” There’s a hint of concern in your tone, but it’s laced with a careful distance, as if you’re treading around something fragile.

He swallows hard, the weight of your gaze digging into him. You see it, don’t you? The cracks in the armor he’s so carefully constructed. The loneliness he hides behind every joke, every flirtatious smile.

But he can’t tell you the truth. Not when your words have the power to break him, to shatter everything he’s built up around himself. He can’t show you how deeply he cares, how much he wants to reach out and make you see him for what he truly is—just a man who’s afraid of losing something he’s never had.

He laughs, a little too loud—a little too involuntary. “I’m just a little busy, that’s all. Life’s a bit chaotic, but I’m fine. Really.”

Even so, you still don’t look convinced. And for a split second, he wonders if you’ve figured it out. If you can see the way his heart aches every time he’s near you, how badly he wishes things were different. How badly he wishes he could be the one to make you smile, make you laugh, in a way that wasn’t tainted by his unspoken feelings.

However instead, you just smile softly, a quiet understanding in your eyes. For just a moment, he thinks maybe you’ve known this whole time. Of course, he’ll never make you aware of how much that question, those few words, broke him inside. Not now. Not ever.

He can feel the cold of your engagement ring pressed against the back of his palm, looking over at you with parted lips, raised brows. Your expression is soft—too inviting. He almost can’t take it anymore. 

Your entire being brings him in, wrapping around his soul like a warm blanket on a cold night. Your eyes can hold a thousand different meanings, but so can your touch. The world blurs into a fade when it’s just you and him, like it always does. He can see the fireworks, feel the softness of your skin against his. 

He wants you so much. 

It’s a quiet ache, a longing that starts in the pit of his stomach and spreads like wildfire, burning him from the inside out. He’s so close to you now, the air between you two charged, heavy with unsaid words and unspoken desires.

Your breath catches as you watch him, and it only makes things worse. It’s as if you’re reading him, sensing the intensity of the pull that draws him to you, even though you shouldn’t. Even though you’re promised to someone else. But for a moment, it’s just the two of you in this space, and everything else ceases to exist.

His heart races as he subconsciously leans in, just a fraction of an inch. Like a man on the edge of something dangerous, something he knows he shouldn’t want, but does anyway. His fingers twitch against your wrist, the ring there a painful reminder of the distance between what is and what could never be.

You shift slightly, a small motion, but it’s enough to send a jolt through him. You’re so close now, your warmth seeping into him, your scent intoxicating. In a single brief and fleeting instant, he wonders if you feel the same pull, if you’re as caught in the web of longing as he is.

Just then, you blink; and the spell is broken. You pull back just enough. The correct amount of room to create a sliver of space, he feels his heart sink. “I…” Your voice is barely a whisper, as if you’re struggling with the weight of the moment too. But he knows what’s coming. You always have that hesitation, that gentle reluctance when it comes to him.

He swallows, the words caught in his throat, but the truth is too painful to speak. He can’t admit how much he wants you. He can’t admit that, despite the ring on your finger, despite everything that keeps you apart, he’s falling for you in ways that have nothing to do with logic and everything to do with his heart.

“I know,” he whispers finally, his voice low, barely audible, because it’s the only thing he can say without completely shattering the fragile barrier that keeps everything in check.

When deep down, in the part of him that refuses to let go, he wishes with everything he has that you could see him. That you could feel what he feels.

That you could love him, just once, the way he loves you.

He puts on his usual smile. He knows you see through it now, but there’s no point in hiding it. There’s no point in hiding anything anymore, is there? “I know,” he repeats. 

The words fall heavy between you, thick with unspoken truths, and yet, they feel like a fragile lie. He laughs again, but it’s different now. Not the carefree expression he usually wears, but one edged with something raw—something too real for either of you to ignore. He knows you see the cracks. He knows you feel the tension and the weight of everything he doesn’t say. It makes him ache in ways he can’t describe. You’ve always seen him, better than anyone else, better than he ever allowed anyone to. And even now, when the distance between you is palpable, when everything about this moment screams to turn away, neither of you can.

You’re still staring at him, your eyes warm but searching. You want more. You want to know what’s behind that smile, what’s behind the guarded words, the silence that screams louder than anything he’s ever said. You want to see through the layers, even when he’s terrified of what you might find.

Except that’s the truth of it, isn’t it? He’s terrified. Terrified of losing you, terrified of the vulnerability that comes with loving someone so completely. Terrified that you’ll slip away from him, like everyone else does.

“Satoru…” Your voice trembles slightly, hesitation lingering in the air like an uninvited guest. You want to say something, but you don’t know how. You want to reach for him, but you know the consequences. The space between you both feels endless, a chasm that neither of you can cross.

He really can’t keep pretending anymore.

His smile falters, his eyes dimming as he finally lets go of the pretense, removing the silence hanging in the air. He feels the weight of your gaze on him, steady and knowing, and something inside him breaks.

You know. You always knew.

“I don’t want to hide this anymore,” he admits quietly, his voice strained, his chest tight with the confession. It’s not a declaration of love, not yet. However, it’s the closest thing he can give you right now—the truth, raw and painful. He’s not sure what you’ll do with it, if it’ll push you further away or bring you closer, but the honesty feels both freeing and suffocating at the same time. He waits for your response, his heart hammering in his chest, terrified of the silence that follows. Because no matter what happens next, he knows that something between the two of you has irrevocably shifted. And there’s no going back.

When you look away from him, he gets his answer. With that, he laughs softly to himself in understanding. Not even needing to hear your soft words—whispered apologies. Because at the end of the day, he knew what would happen. 

He’s not mad at you for it, how could he be?

You’ve always been his anchor, even if you couldn’t see it. Even if he was just the one who stood in the background, quietly waiting, hoping for a moment like this. He knew that in the end, it would never be him, and somehow, he had accepted that. But it doesn’t make the ache any less painful, the hollow feeling in his chest where something once burned bright.

You’ve always belonged to someone else.

The way you look away, the way your fingers subtly twist the fabric of your shirt as if you’re gathering the courage to speak, tells him everything. You don’t need to apologize for anything. He knows. He always has.

But it doesn’t stop the weight from pressing down on him. It doesn’t stop the way his heart cracks, just a little bit more, with every moment that stretches between you both.

He should leave. Walk away before it hurts too much. Yet something keeps him there—something that’s always kept him tethered to you, even in your silence. Once more, he chuckles quietly. The sound is bitter in the back of his throat. He puts his smile back into place, masking the storm brewing inside. “It’s okay,” he says softly, almost as if he’s reassuring himself as much as you. “I get it.”

His voice is steady, but there’s a quiver that betrays him, a flicker of pain he can’t hide. You’ll never know just how much it stings. How it feels like something vital is slipping away, piece by piece. But he won’t show you that. Not now. Not when he knows you’re already carrying your own weight.

And so, he stays. Silent, distant, as you both continue to navigate the space between what you want and what you can’t have. No matter how much it hurts, he loves you. In the quietest, most agonizing way possible. And that’s enough for him, even if it will never be enough for you.

“Just…don’t leave me.” He mutters, almost like he doesn’t want to get the words out. He’s aware of the fact that he’s pushing more than he should—biting off more than he’s being given. 

You gulp, biting the inside of your cheek. A silent second passes before you nod. “I’d never let you go.”

When he’s walking back home that night, the air feels more suffocating than usual. His apartment—too big for one—is cold. Walking to his bedroom, not bothering to strip himself of his clothes as he plops down onto his bed. Staring up at the ceiling with a melancholic smile. Feeling a prickle of tears hit the corners of his eyes. They don’t fall—not yet. He swallows hard, but the lump in his throat won’t budge.

He should be happy, right? At least you didn’t leave him completely. Nonetheless, the promise in your words doesn’t feel like solace; it feels like a bandage over a wound that will never fully heal. He chortles, a hollow, bitter sound that fills the emptiness of the room.

That’s probably the nicest way he could’ve been let down. For some reason, it hurts more. 

Extremely more than he thought it would. Somewhere along the lines, he may have even somehow convinced himself that maybe—just maybe—things could be different. But of course, they weren’t. They never could be. The optimism in him is dying. 

The silence in his apartment is deafening, and in the quiet, his mind runs wild with every memory of you, every moment that he convinced himself meant more than it did. The way your voice eased when you spoke to him, the way your eyes lingered just a little too long. He had built up those fleeting moments into something real, something that could have existed in another life, in another world. However now, reality has slammed into him with brutal force, leaving him breathless and broken.

He curls his fingers into the sheets, his chest tightening. He wants to scream, but the words stick to the back of his throat. Instead, he lets out a long, shaky breath, the weight of everything settling deeper into his bones.

Tomorrow, he will smile again. Tomorrow, he will pretend everything is okay. So tonight, in the darkness of his room, it can just be him and the stabbing pain of unrequited love.

It’s so difficult because it’s more than he can bear. Even dreaming is not an escape from you. 

He lies there for what feels like hours, staring at the ceiling, the darkness of the room closing in around him. His thoughts are a whirlwind—too much, too fast, all at once. He feels like he’s drowning in them, unable to pull himself out. He shifts uncomfortably, pulling the covers tighter around his body, as if they could shield him from the cold ache in his chest. The memory of your words, of the softness in your voice, keeps echoing in his mind: “I’d never let you go.” You hadn’t meant it the way he wanted, the way he had hoped. You had meant it in the kindest way possible, but all it did was reinforce the distance between you two. You couldn’t love him. You couldn’t be with him—not the way he needed you to be.

He tries to push away the thought, but it lingers, gnawing at him. The weight of knowing that you would never truly leave him, that you’d always be there. Still, never in the way he wanted. It cuts so much deeper than he could have imagined. It’s like a constant reminder that some things just aren’t meant to be.

A soft sigh escapes his lips, and he runs a hand over his face, his fingers pressing against his eyes. He’s tired—so tired. Not physically, but emotionally. It’s exhausting, pretending. Entirely consuming it is to feel something that can never be returned the way it’s given.

He presses the back of his palm to his nose, inhaling the faint remnants of your scent. The tears finally fall, slow and quiet at first. Soon, they’re coming harder and faster. But he doesn’t make a sound. He doesn’t want anyone to hear, not like anyone would. He doesn’t want it to be known the way his heart is shattering, piece by piece, while he lies alone in the shadows of his apartment.

For a moment, he wishes you could feel this—this ache, this longing that gnaws at him until there’s nothing left but the hollowed-out shell of someone who will never truly be enough. He wishes you could understand how it feels to love someone so deeply, to want them more than anything, and yet know that your love will never be enough.

He laughs again, a bitter, empty sound, this time not hiding it. It’s a dull laugh that tastes like defeat. He wipes at his eyes, sniffling quietly, the tears continuing to fall. Then, he forces himself to take a deep breath, to stop.

He can’t let himself drown in this. Not now.

But the truth is, he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep pretending. The weight of everything—the smiles, the casual conversations, the “I’m fine” that he spits out like it’s nothing—feels too heavy now. He wonders how long you were able to tell. If you saw through the facade when you first met him, if you noticed the cracks starting to form around him immediately. Maybe he was the oblivious one. 

He tells himself over and over again: you have your own life, your own love, your own future.

He rolls onto his side, facing the wall, the emptiness of his solitude swallowing him whole. Tomorrow, he thinks to himself, I’ll wake up, and I’ll be fine. He’s done this before. Pretending, masking the pain, wearing the boyish smile he knows so well. It’s easier than facing the truth, than admitting how much it hurts.

For now, in the quiet of his apartment, the only thing he can do is let the tears fall, and let himself grieve for the love he’ll never have. 

However, one day…something changes in Satoru. He doesn’t even expect it. It’s subtle at first. A shift, almost imperceptible, like the first breeze of spring after a long, bitter winter. He’s standing at the edge of the room, watching as you and Suguru stand hand in hand at the altar, your eyes locked with his in a way that is nothing short of reverent. Your smile—so soft, so full of love—shines through the quiet moment as Suguru vows to stand by you, to love you through everything. Maybe it’s the way you seem so at peace with yourself while looking his best friend in the eyes at the altar, or the way you're radiantly glowing when you two have your first dance. Or the way you still regard him with the same tenderness you did from day one. 

The ache grows quieter. 

As you look at him, there’s a quiet contentment that blooms in Satoru’s chest. It’s not pain, not jealousy, not longing. Just peace. Something about seeing you so at ease, so sure of yourself, brings a strange sense of clarity to his heart.

He doesn’t know what it is—perhaps it’s the way you carry yourself now, with confidence, with the kind of joy that was never there before—but he feels something relieve within him. The old throbbing pain, the one that had been gnawing at him for so long, then pauses just a bit. It’s like the final breath of a storm passing, leaving behind only calm.

 Later that evening, as he watches the two of you share your first dance, something settles in his chest, something he can’t quite explain. You’re  glowing under the soft lights, and the way Suguru holds you so gently, his fingers pressing into the small of your back, is enough to make Satoru’s throat tighten. There’s no regret, no bitterness. Just a quiet acceptance.

He knows, deep down, that this is your moment. And he’s finally okay with that.

Satoru’s gaze drifts to you as you laugh, your head tilting back slightly as Suguru twirls you in his arms. Your eyes meet his, just for a second, and he sees it—the same look you’ve always had for him. His eyes don’t move from you one bit throughout the night, feeling something drift into the air. His shoulders feel lighter. Now, it’s just… comfort. A quiet, steady beat that comes from knowing he’s been a part of something meaningful in your life, even if it wasn’t meant to be forever.

He smiles to himself, the ghost of his old longing fading into the background. For the first time in a long time, Satoru feels like he’s no longer holding onto something that’s slipping through his fingers. The pieces have finally clicked into place. So, in that moment, he realizes something he hadn’t anticipated. 

He’s free.

As the night winds down, and the last few guests start to trickle out, Satoru stays behind, quietly watching the empty dance floor. The lights are dimmed, the music faded, but the feeling of the day still lingers in the air. He knows that things have changed for him—deeply, irrevocably.

It’s not that he’s given up on love. Not at all. But something in him has shifted. It could be that his understanding is that love isn’t always about holding onto someone forever. Sometimes, it’s about letting them go—allowing them to find their happiness in their own way, even if it’s not with you.

You and Suguru have your own story now, and Satoru is finally okay with that. In fact, he’s grateful for it. Because without your happiness, without you finding peace with him, he never would have found peace with himself. 

He takes a deep breath, feeling the weight of it all—of everything that’s passed, of everything that’s been said and unsaid—and it’s fine. It’s more than fine. He’s not angry. He’s not resentful. He’s content.

And that’s enough.

The days that follow are gentle. There’s no rush or no pressure. Satoru slowly moves forward with his life, embracing the little things—his work, his friendships, his quiet moments. There’s a stillness in him that wasn’t there before. The pain that had consumed him for so long doesn’t disappear completely, but it becomes more manageable. More bearable.

Of course, maybe one day, in another place, with another person, there will be a love that’s his to hold onto. But for now, he’s happy with this. He’s happy with letting go—with moving forward. Because in the end, he’s learned that love doesn’t always look the way you expect. It isn’t always a fairy tale. Sometimes, it’s just a silent acceptance, a letting go, and knowing that everything will be okay in the end.

For the first time in a long time, Satoru believes that.

Finally, he just sees you. Someone’s wife.

Satoru stands there for a moment, taking in the sight of you. The woman he once loved, now married to someone else. The years have passed, but you’re still the same in the most beautiful ways. Your smile is just as bright, and the warmth in your eyes is still the same, no matter how much time has passed.

“How are you?” he asks, his voice soft, a little hesitant. It’s been a few years since he last saw you at your wedding to Suguru. He assumed, with time, that he would somehow grow less attracted to you. Less drawn to your presence, your laughter, and the way you seem to light up the world just by being in it.

 How wrong he was.

You meet his gaze, and Satoru feels that familiar flutter in his chest, something he thought had long since faded. You haven’t changed. He’s never been able to forget the way you made him feel. The truth is, he probably never will. “I’m great,” you reply wholeheartedly, your smile so genuine it catches him off guard. The apples of your cheeks rise, and he can’t help but notice how much more beautiful you’ve become. There’s a glow about you, one that comes from happiness and contentment. The familiar glint in your eyes beams brighter than he’s ever seen before. It’s the same one that once made him think maybe he could be the one to make you smile like that forever.

 Prettier than any star.  

“Things have been well,” you continue, a slight tilt of your head as you study him. “How are you?”

Satoru swallows, his heart hammering in his chest, but he smiles. He’s not sure why it still affects him this way. Maybe it’s because he knows you’re happy, and that should be enough for him. But hearing you speak with that warmth, that sweetness, it still stirs something deep within him. “I’m good,” he says, his voice steady despite the chaos of emotions swirling inside him. He wants to tell you everything he wasn’t able to before—how much he’s missed you, how much he’s struggled to let go, how he’s still a little haunted by your absence. But he can’t. You’re someone else’s now. His best friend’s. And he can’t take that from you. He doesn’t want to, either. 

“Life’s… busy,” he adds, trying to change the subject, but he knows the words are empty. He’s never been able to lie to you. You always see through it.

You nod, as if understanding more than he’s said. The silence between you stretches, but it’s not awkward. It’s familiar in a way that brings him a strange sense of comfort. You’ve both come so far, yet here you are, still standing before him.

Satoru wants to say something—anything—that will make this moment last. Yet, he knows better now. He knows that some things are meant to pass, to be remembered only as bittersweet memories. “I’m happy for you,” he finally says, his voice quieter than before. His eyes meet yours, searching for any sign that maybe, just maybe, you might feel something too.

And there it is. A flicker. A brief, imperceptible flicker in your eyes. You’re still the same woman he once knew, the one who captured his heart and never quite let it go.

He doesn’t need to hear you say it. He can see it in the way you look at him. You’ve both changed, in ways that neither of you could have predicted. Really, that’s okay. You’re happy, and that’s all that matters.

“I’m glad to see you doing well, Satoru,” you say with that same warm smile. “Take care of yourself, okay?” The weight of the unspoken words lingers between you, yet it’s not painful. Not anymore. Satoru nods, his own smile genuine, even if it’s laced with sadness. He doesn’t need to hold onto the past anymore. You’ve found your place in the world, and he’s finally at peace with that.

“I will,” he says quietly. “You too.”

Staying in your presence feels nice, no words having to be spoken when your actions do it all. Fleeting looks, warm smiles, hushed chuckles. He can’t stop his body from reciprocating. Every time your fingers brush against his by accident, a jolt of electricity runs through him. When your voice dances in the air, light and carefree, it takes every ounce of control he has not to reach out and pull you closer into a hug. Your presence is a kind of calm he didn’t know he needed, a peace he’s been missing, even after all these years.

He’s missed you. That’s okay to admit, right?

“Are you with someone now, Satoru?” You ask, sipping your coffee with an innocent eyebrow raise. 

He shakes you off with a chuckle. “Nah, no one. I’m a lone wolf, remember?”

Playfully, you roll your eyes. “Right. Well, every lone wolf needs his mate, doesn’t he?”

“Please don’t use ABO logic on me.”

You kick his shin under the table and he dramatically responds with a frown. Looking at him from the large window that displays the warm morning of Saturday. Speaking with such integrity that it’s hard not to believe you. “I’m serious, Satoru. When it happens, I want to be there for you. Your soulmate is just walking around everyday life waiting for you, I look forward to you finally getting to experience that.”

His heart melts, smirk softening into genuineness. He can’t find it in him to say how wrong you probably are, to crush your dreams of him finding his one true love one day. How could he? You just want what’s best for him, and that’s why he loves you so much. 

“Soulmate…” he repeats to himself lowly, watching you laugh gingerly before looking back out at the window. His eyes glance down at his left pinky finger, flexing it. 

Red string of fate. 

He can imagine the circle around his pinky, red and bright with intensity; glowing like a beacon of everything he’s always wanted and dreamed for. He looks back up at you, your side profile so perfectly structured in the warm light. The way your features align effortlessly like they were meant to be there. He can’t help the crinkle of his eyes when his smile grows wider and more genuine. The time he spent longing for you, it all seems to fade away when he looks at you like this. He lightly jerks his hand.  

And for a brief, suspended moment, he catches the sight of your left pinky twitching, being tugged just barely in his direction before you adjust your grip on your coffee. 

He follows your gaze, hiding a snicker behind the rim of his cup. 

Yeah, she is just walking around, isn’t she?

a/n: hiiiii! i really hoped you guys enjoyed this, while writing this i didn't feel very confident and I still sort of don't, but I really hope it satisfies u all <3 as I said b4 thank you so much for 1k followers, I didn't expect this to happen lollolol but your support has been so appreciated. with this new year, I hope to put out more works, and I hope u all stay along for the ride. have a great day!!!! love and kisses

[thekingnerd]

As an endo (I feel the need to preface with this so as to not be misleading) I agree with EVERY point you made here, which is... Very odd to have happen when I'm reblogging an anti.

I agree with your stance on the antis, and how while there are some toxic communities and people, that isn't all of them. Similarly, I don't view all endos as good people, some of us are assholes, but I see so many anti posts about all endos being ableist, how they used to be pro but then a few endos were being dicks and trying to convince them they were endo, as well as other things, then they hate all endos. I agree with you completely here: Neither side is a monolith. We all have good people, we all have bad ones. Hell, I have a few antis I actively enjoy talking to because they, while not believing that I can exist, are able to put that aside for the purposes of a proper debate without insults!

The concept of endos being suspicious: I agree, it did seem a bit odd at first for me, but when my brethren (headmates) showed up (before I did) the Guy Who Was There First was just like "Huh, that's odd. Am I crazy? Probably, but that's fine." (For context, we have aphantasia, so we are all (to whoever is fronting) disembodied voices.) We didn't even know that systems were a thing until our friend revealed his systemness to us, but since we were different, us being system didn't even click until a year later. As for a lack of trauma, or other symptoms: Some endos dissociate from other, unrelated disorders, some have trauma that doesn't fit with diagnostic criteria or happened after systemhood, but in general, we don't know why we formed. With willogenics and such, my best guess as to how could be they can just believe they have a friend in their head for long enough it stays? Maybe imaginary friend type thing, but more permanent?

We don't pretend that natural multiple shit never happened, most of us just have never heard of it before. This is the first I heard of it.

I'm also not asking any antis to take a chance on us existing, I just want the death threats and such to stop.

As for barging into spaces: I do not condone any endos posting endo stuff in the did/osdd/cdd/other disordered tags, unless it's something that they found that directly pertains to those disorders (other post elsewhere that has tips on dealing with dissociation, for example.) From an endo point of view, at least from what I've seen, we left the overall, medical system spaces and formed our own spaces, using the plural tags. Now, we don't keep traumagenics out, not at all. We are all inclusive. We just want to keep hatred out of our spaces, because there are plenty of antis coming into the endo safe plural tags, and calling us ableist, then having DNI in the tags, as if they expect us to not respond to them yelling at us in our tags. I am fine with DNIs, but like... If you don't want gay people to interact with you, then don't go to the gay bar.

I get not wanting to have your safe space spoiled by hate and those who invalidate you. I just wish that both sides could see that, agree to disagree, and temporarily have a truce while we work on making plurality in general (both disordered and not) accepted by society. Then we can get back to throwing hate at each other if we truly wish.

Tl;Dr, I agree fully with every point you made here, and they also, for the most part, actually apply to endos as well. We need to just have a truce, normalize systems so we can go by our own names in public, not body names, and then if we truly wish go back to fighting.

Keep seeing posts of pro-endos who used to be anti-endo talking about "Ugh, anti-endo spaces are so toxic" which is not necessarily bad, there are bad anti-endo spaces out there and people are allowed to vent about how those spaces hurt them

I do have a problem when they use that as an excuse to call us all toxic and cruel. I've seen many saying things like "Anti endos are so horrible, I'm so glad I'm not one of those monsters anymore"

You need to understand we aren't the monsters you make us out to be. We're traumatized people, trying our hardest to survive with something debilitating, who can't help but see endos as mocking, whether they truly are or not. We can't help but see endos as invading our spaces.

We didn't get to have safe spaces most of the time. We didn't get to be around people who cared about us and understood us. Even those of us that did have a safe space had it poisoned by trauma elsewhere. We spent our childhoods afraid, isolated, and so agonizingly alone, feeling like we were better off dead, that we were freaks, that we were the only ones in the world going through this. This community we made for ourselves was one we had to fight through years of hell to get.

So when random people come over trying to insist that they're "just like us" and demanding to be let in, despite having only one or two things in common that we couldn't even trust they truly had, of course we'll be fucking defensive. In our eyes, you're trying to take the safe spaces we fought tooth and nail for away from us, whether you truly are or not. In our eyes you're people who know nothing about us or what we went through, and continue to go through, trying to barge into our havens and bloat it with bullshit, whether that's what you're trying to do or not.

We've been hurt so many times, by so many people, for so long. Why the fuck would we take a chance on people that are so suspect? You claim to have alters just like us, yet without any of the other symptoms of our disorders. You claim to be systems, yet without being caused by the immense trauma we had to suffer through. Hell, some of you claim that you made your alters for fun, just because you can.

Of course we're wary and defensive. We don't want to even risk losing the spaces we worked so damn hard to get.

If you've had a bad experience with anti-endo spaces, and are pro-endo now because of it, that's fine by me and I understand completely. But that doesn't make us all villians. That doesn't make us all evil monsters.

And besides, many of us have been hurt by pro-endo/mixed origin spaces too. We've seen people have horrible experiences with them. (Let's not forget endos started as natural multiples, who were notoriously shitty, cruel, and discriminatory toward any and all traumagens, and that a lot of that same rhetoric is still rampant in the community, AND that the community at large has basically just decided to pretend that never happened.

-Kaz

[moralesmilesanhour]

looking the part

description: a college AU one-shot wherein Ekko watches you get ready for an end-of-semester celebration with some of Piltover's finest. wc: 572 tags: canon divergent-ish, ekko x black!reader a/n: wanted to try my hand at writing for Arcane characters :) the original rough draft was twice as long as what you see here lol

A calm quiet settled over your small single room.

Ekko watched idly as you attempted to wind your braids around your head in a large, elaborate bun. Still barefoot, you were half-dressed in a smart-looking white blouse (complete with a golden brooch that had moving mechanical wings), and a long black skirt that revealed your brown legs through two high slits.

“You look like Medarda,” he commented from his spot on your bed, chin resting in his palm. He had no plans tonight that did not include a long nap, and was appropriately dressed for the occasion in a white tank top and gray sweats.

The bun seemed to remain stable as you slowly removed your hands. You grinned into the dirty dorm room mirror at your triumph.

“That's the idea.”

“You want to look like a topside politician?”

The bun quickly collapsed when you whipped around to face him. He had that ‘be serious’ look on his face, a dark brow lifted in skepticism.

You crossed your arms.

“Ekko, don't start. It's just an end-of-semester party, and I'd like to look the part. That's all it is!”

Ekko put his free hand up in surrender.

“I'm just saying, I don't see the point in spending your whole night schmoozing when you’dve already got Viktor vouching for you.”

The space beside him sank a bit once you joined him on the mattress, and he sat up to accommodate. You stuck out your lips in a pout.

“Says the guy who scored an internship with Heimerdinger.”

Ekko retorted without missing a beat, “And do you see me copying his drip?”

The image of Ekko dressed head-to-toe in Piltie jewelry and double-breasted vests made you giggle.

“Never in a million years.”

“Exactly.”

“But that's not the same thing!” You pushed him by the shoulder, “I just think her hair's cute.”

He reached over to push a stray braid out of your face, the tips of his calloused fingers brushing your cheek as he did so. You watched him watch you, intently.

His clear brown eyes sparkled where the low desk light hit them, the same way they did the day you first met at one of Heimerdinger’s guest lectures. Ekko had raised his hand—the only one to do so—and asked some out-of-left-field questions about whether Hextech was especially vulnerable to ‘bad actors’ under council jurisdiction and whatnot.

Expecting him to struggle to be heard in that giant lecture hall, the ring of his voice cutting through the air, uninhibited and impolite, sent a shock through your system. It also sent the professor on a very long tangent on the dangers of the Arcane when left in the wrong hands, and you could've sworn you heard a snicker or two coming from Ekko’s direction when he had to be interrupted because class time had all but run out.

You stopped him before class ended, and awkwardly asked him if he had really bleached his hair to be that stark white color. He laughed, and invited you to lunch not long after.

“I could do you one better,” he suggested, snapping you out of your thoughts. He made a circular gesture around his head. “How ‘bout a crown?”

“Hm,” you pretended to think, though you were already moving to settle yourself in between his knees. “Do I get to borrow your earrings? Y’know, complete the look.”

A long sigh.

“Alright, but you better not lose ‘em.”

-

Hi! Thank you for making it this far. Pls feel free to reblog and leave feedback in replies/tags, and check out my pinned post if you're curious about me or other stuff I've written :) Have a nice day/night

[dsireland86]

🎂NEW YEARS DAY BIRTHDAY REQUEST🎂

My birthday is New Years Day (so there's still a few weeks until then) and I would love a birthday request with the group (Noah, Jolly, Folio, Nick, Matt) Maybe have each guy plan a special birthday date night for each night of the week leading up to the reader's birthday (Save Noah for the last night 😉) Lots of cute fluffy moments and definitely smut 😘

Happy Birthday and Happy New Years! @lacy1986 I hope you like the first part of your asked. I decided to break this story up into two parts. Here's Part 1 with Part 2 following later today.

The 12th Day Of Christmas:

A New Years Birthday Pt.1

Tag list: @philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @thisbicc @lma1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @mrsnoahsebastian @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers @myownthoughts12 @sister-sebastian @nyxthedestroyerofworlds-deactiv @missduffsblog @bngurngheart  @somebodyllelse @xxkittenkissesxx @dizzylmwahh @Youlookforultraviolet @kenjipepsi1

"Your birthday is in six days, baby. Any idea of what you want to do? You are a New Years baby. There’s a lot of cool stuff we could do."

Matt looked over at Y/N as she ate up the last bit of her ice cream in the tub, looking sadder than usual. All the guys knew she was going through a tough moment due to her depression and that the past year hadn't been all that great for her. That's why Matt brought up her birthday. Normally, he wouldn't, but given the circumstances, he really wanted to do something for her that would help her overcome this moment. Y/N shook her head at Matt's question while putting the lid inside the empty container.

"I would be quite happy pretending my birthday doesn't exist. Let's just focus on New Years instead," she stated unenthusiastically. "Come on, baby. It's one day a year. It can't be that bad." "It is," she muttered beneath the hood of the hoodie. "Why?" "Because I hate the attention." "That's not surprising."

Y/N raised her head, scowling at Folio who did his best to hide his smile. "Someone's in the doghouse tonight," Noah teased. "Shut-up!" Folio shoved Noah hard, making him stumble backward. Y/N chuckled, shaking her head at their boyish antics.

"What I meant was," Folio continued, glaring at Noah, "it's not surprising you don't want the attention because that's not the kind of girl you are." Folio stood over top Y/N, caressing her cheek.

"And we love that about you," Nicholas replied. Y/N smiled over at him.

"But, just because you don't like the attention doesn't mean you're not worthy of celebrating you." Jolly's hand on her knee made the goosebumps appear over her skin that was covered up by Noah's hoodie.

"Hey! I have an idea," Noah suggested. "Why don't we do this... six days until your birthday, right? Starting tomorrow, what do you think about each of us having a date night with you and doing something nice? No big celebration, no piles of gifts or balloons, just a simple, one on one celebration. We'll even plan the day and surprise you since you hate making decisions like that."

Y/N lightly laughed, wiping away a stray tear.

"Sounds good?

Noah rubbed her thighs lovingly, hoping his words gave her some hope. Thankfully, Y/N nodded, taking Jolly's hand as he draped it around her shoulder. Noah looked around at the others.

"Are you all okay with the idea?" They nodded, some muttering quiet "yeses" and "yups". "Good. But I call your birthday," Noah grinned big at her as protests erupted around them. "It's only fair! I came up with the idea!"

"Fine. I call New Years Eve," Folio stated. All eyes shifted to him immediately. "Don't worry. We'll still celebrate together, but after that, she's mine again." He winked at Y/N, making her giggle.

"There's that pretty laugh," Nicholas cheered. "I'm taking tomorrow. I'll make sure you have that laugh to carry with you for the rest of the week."

"After that, he doesn't care what the fuck you do," Matt threw in, sarcastically, making Y/N laugh a little louder. "I'll take day two." Matt got up and kissed her on the cheek, taking her trash, and walking off into the kitchen.

"That means I get day two," Jolly squeezed her shoulder. He pulled her close, kissing the side of her head. "And you're getting a message and a foot rub," he whispered in her ear." Y/N squeezed her thighs together, unable to ignore the warm, tingling feeling that swept through her core.

The next few days were going to be interesting. It would be the first time Y/N had "celebrated" her birthday in a really long time, and to be honest, she was really excited about it.

Day 1: Nicholas

"Here you go," Nicholas chimed, setting her cappuccino down on the table and then taking a seat across from her. They sat in silence staring out the window of the old bookstore, watching the raindrops trickle down the window.

"You look happy." Y/N smiled at Nick. "I am happy. I haven't felt this good in days."

Nichols gave a small grin, reaching over and taking her hand. The soft touch of his thumb, as it made circles on her skin, calmed her, and when he began massaging her whole hand, her eyes closed, and she relaxed completely, making Nick chuckle.

They talked about her feelings and what was going on inside her head; Y/N feeling thankful she had Nick to confide in while leisurely drinking their coffees. Despite the gloominess of the day, Y/N really was starting to feel a lot better.

Later, they picked through old books, each finding one they wanted, the checked out and left. Hand in hand, they walked the street, with Nick stopping at a street vendor selling roses and getting Y/N one. It made her smile, and as Nicholas kissed her, bending her back into the rain, she squealed and laughed.

"Told you I was going to make that happen," Nick told her. She smiled and kissed him again, taking his hand as they continued their walk.

They got home and found out they were alone. Nicholas didn't hesitate one second longer, grabbing Y/N from behind as she stood at the counter drinking her water. He whispered sweet little nothings in her ear, making her laugh and smile, which was music to Nick's ears.

"I love hearing you laugh." Nick cooed, slipping his hand down the inside of her pants and into her panties. His warm finger had no trouble finding her clit, rubbing it quickly before sliding further down right inside her.

"Holy shit," she gasped, gripping the counter hard. "You like that, love? You like feeling me inside you?" "The real thing would feel so much better." Y/N bit her lip, knowing what she was asking for.

Nicholas pressed up against her, pulling her tightly against him, kissing her neck sweetly while slowly sliding two fingers at a time in and out of her. Her whimpers were making him harder by the second.

"Would it be wrong if I said I needed you, Nicky?" "Do you think that needing me somehow makes you weak or wrong?" "Doesn't it?" Nicholas thrusted his finger harder and faster inside her, taking her breath away each time. "No, love, it doesn't. It makes you beautiful, it makes you a woman; to need a man the way you're needing me right now. It's the whole purpose of what we're doing."

He trailed kisses down the side of her neck, pulling his fingers out from inside her and placing them over her breasts. He massaged them softly, grinding his hard length against her ass as she pushed back into him.

"Let's go upstairs where I can love you properly," he whispered against her ear.

Within minutes, Y/N was completely naked in her bed with Nick between her legs, while digging her nails into his shoulders as he gently made love to her. His hands were all over her body, running up and down and caressing every crevice. "Your skin feels like silk, so soft and smooth," Nicholas sighed. Flipping her over, he pressed her down into the mattress, raising her ass higher and fucked up into her hard yet gentle enough for Y/N to feel every inch of his cock against her walls.

"Nicky, I'm about to cum!" she cried, gripping the bed sheets. "Me too. Cum with me, baby," he encouraged, breathlessly. And they did. First Y/N, then Nicholas, both of them collapsing once they both reached their limit.

Curling up into him, Y/N fell asleep in Nick's arms, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. Today had been a good day despite the weather, making Y/N hopeful about the rest of the week and celebrating her birthday.

Day 2: Jolly

The following day busted all of that hope. Just about everything that could go wrong, did, making Y/N grow more frustrated by the minute. Jolly suggested they go out for a bit and take some time away from all the chaos, but even that didn't pan out well. By the time they got back home, Y/N eyes were damp.

"I'm over this day! It's stupid, stupid, stupid!" "Wow, okay, take it easy," Folio eased, rubbing her back as she dropped her bags in the living room. "What happened?" "What happened is stupid people making stupid choices." "I can't argue with that," Folio chuckled. "So, I'm assuming the trips to the art shop and winery were a bust?" Noah looked up at her from the couch. "Well, I didn't say that," she replied, looking down at her bags.

Jolly scratched his head, chuckling. He took Y/N by the shoulders, turning her to face him. "Alright, baby, look, why don't I pour you a glass of wine and start you a hot bath with lots of bubbles. Sounds good?" he suggested. Jolly slid both hands around her face, tilting her head up just enough for him to see into her eyes. He caressed them with his thumbs before leaning down and kissing her softly. Y/N hummed in approval, smiling shyly when they parted. "Sounds good," placing her hands on Jolly's hands, sliding them down to his wrists. "I'll meet you upstairs, then," Jolly grinned, kissing the tip of her nose.

The bathroom was so hot when he entered that Jolly could hardly breathe. Steam had taken over, making everything moist to the touch. Sitting on the edge of the tub, he handed Y/N her glass of wine. She took a long sip before handing it back to him. "Better?" "Better," she smiled, sitting back against the tub. "I'm sorry for how the day went, Jolly. I know this isn't what you had in mind."

Jolly swirled his finger in the hot water, making shapes through the bubble. "You don't have to apologize for anything, Älskling." The pet name made Y/N's heart flutter. "You couldn't control the things that happened any more than I can control the weather." "But I can control how I react to them." "You reacted to them just like any other person would. You're human."

His eyes shifted from the water up to her face. Y/N reached out from the water and placed her hand on his cheek. The warmth of the water rushed through Jolly's cool body, hitting right in his crotch. The sudden, hungry need to be inside her consumed his and thankful, Y/N could tell.

"Join me," she said, more as a command than as a statement. Jolly gave her a tight nod then began to undress. Y/N watched, the heat of the moment flickering in her eyes, as Jolly climbed into the water with her, seething quietly from the temperature of the water. She latched onto him immediately and kissed him as if she was starving.

"Is this better?" Jolly asked, grinning against her lips as he pushed her wet hair out of her face. "God, yes. So much better," Y/N muttered against the skin of his neck. "If we continue this, it's sure to lead into something else."

Y/N pulled back and looked at him. "It's my birthday week, Jolly, and it's your day. So as my gift, I want you to make love to me right here, right now."

A deep growl emerged from Jolly's chest. His hands slid into her hair, fisting the ends gently before slipping to the back of her neck and pulling her back into him. Y/N wrapped her legs tightly around him, shifting around until she could feel his cock against her entrance. Reaching down into the water, she touched Jolly, watching his eyes darken as she did and slid him inside her, moaning perfectly as she did. Jolly's grip around the back of her neck tightened as she began to ride him under the hot water, making him bite his lip to keep quiet.

"Fuck, Älskling, your pussy feel so good in water like this." The water around them splashed, creating small waves around them. Some spilled out, but it didn't matter to either one of them. "It's so warm. You're like fire inside me, Jolly," she replied breathlessly. He groaned, plunging his tongue into her mouth with force, licking deep. Her tongue tangled with his, fighting for dominance as her fingers dug deep into the muscles in his back.

"Tell me when you're about to come, baby because I'm not going to last much longer." They kept complete eye contact, with Y/N breathlessly saying when she was about to cum, throwing her head back and moaning loud the moment she did. Jolly kept his grip on her neck, thrusting into her until he climaxed, pulling out of her and releasing his cum into the water.

"Well, I guess we'll have to shower now," Y/N laughed, pulling herself back into Jolly's lap. He smiled, nipping her neck with his teeth. "Yup, I guess so."

To Be Continued...

[livingincolorsagain]

tagged by @saryasy for a 2024 fic roundup, thanks for the tag babe <3. a bit late but hey im here now lol

July

pledge allegiance to my burning heart (2.3k, t) (rebloggable link)

Eddie’s always wanted the things he couldn’t have, but Buck already has a designated spot on his couch.

first buddie fic of course had to be couch theory. and eddie’s pov.

August

and you won’t let it (1.4k, t) (rebloggable link)

It’s just… he’s watching Eddie, standing near the fence, away from almost everyone, a drink in hand and a smile on his face, a beautiful, bashful smile that is directed at Marcus.

Marcus, who’s a friend of Karen. Marcus, who’s tall and smart and handsome. Marcus, who’s a goddamn rocket scientist. Marcus, who paused after hugging Karen and wishing her a happy birthday, because he spotted Eddie there by plates, having a very serious discussion about ladybugs with Jee-Yun.

Marcus, who’s been talking to Eddie all day, making him smile and laugh, then dragging him away from the party, so now they’re standing alone, and Buck doesn’t know what they’re saying, what they’re talking about, but Eddie’s cheeks are flushed even more than usual, his eyes are bright and glistening even as he ducks his head, staring at the glass in his hand for a long moment, and Marcus’ eyes stay on him until he’s looking up again, shrugging, as if to say what the hell, why not.

(Or, Eddie dances with a guy. Buck is very normal about it actually, thank you very much.)

jealous insane buck who wants to crack his chest open so eddie can crawl inside. what’s not to love

September

sunlight through a window (443, g) (rebloggable link)

The last rays of sunlight peek through the curtains of Eddie's bedroom window, spreading over the bed.

Buck is sitting against the headboard, a pillow stuffed behind him and a light blanket covering him.

Covering them, because Eddie is flush against his side, warm skin on warm skin, slick with cooling sweat. Buck has an arm around his narrow waist, fingers idly rubbing over the smooth skin, back and forth, up and down, until he reaches a spot that has Eddie giggling, a full body jerk.

Buck smiles, drags his fingers lightly over the same spot one more time, Eddie growls playfully, takes hold of his hand but doesn't move it away as he says, "stop," and only managing to sound breathless about it.

Buck's smile widens, and he turns his head to the side, looks down at Eddie's upturned face, breath stuttering, because one of the sun's stray rays is falling across Eddie's face, making his eyes a molten golden brown that threatens to unravel Buck, bury him, keep him warm and loved.

October

of pretending; (351, g) (rebloggable link)

Eddie thought he would get used to the silence. He thought as the days and weeks and months went by, it would get easier, feel less cutting, less hollowing, less like someone had carved his heart out of his chest and left a jagged hole behind.

It didn’t.

He put the decorations up alone, took them down alone, even though he brought them long ago with Christopher and Buck. Even though he only really brought them because they both loved the tiny pumpkins and little sitting skeletons and the orange and pink lights, obsessing over where they were going to place them right in the middle of the aisle as Eddie watched them, heart so full it almost spilled over.

November

in the passenger seat (1k, t) (rebloggable link)

“I drive,” Eddie repeats, rolling his eyes in Chimney’s general direction.

“Yeah,” Hen says, and now she’s smiling, “when absolutely necessary.”

“Everyone drives when absolutely necessary! What, you want me to drive around for fun?”

“Some people do,” Buck chimes in, utterly unhelpful, he guesses, given the look Eddie throws his way.

“That’s terrible for the environment.”

Well. That is true. Buck swallows down his own smile and shrugs.

“Eddie,” Chimney says, walking back over to the table, “how did you get to work today?”

Eddie frowns. “That’s neither here nor there.”

Buck’s lips twitch. Eddie’s cheeks are flushed pink. Buck knows, from experience, how soft and warm they feel under his lips, under his thumbs when he presses them into the dimples there, swipes them back and forth over the skin, watching Eddie’s eyes flutter close then open slowly, heavy-lidded and brilliantly brown and endlessly loving.

“Because Buck drove you here?”

(Or, Evan Buckley was put on God’s green earth to drive Eddie Diaz around.)

passenger princess eddie diaz. that’s it. that’s the plot. (okay there’s also a lot of feelings. it’s me after all)

the stars are still in the sky (600~, g)

The quietness stretches, blankets them, as the wind picks up, the cold intensifying; like it's putting up a fight it knows it's going to lose once the sun breaks through the horizon.

Eddie says, "I'm going to miss you," then pauses, takes a deep breath, "I think I already do."

And Buck feels the words land in his chest like sharded glass, his heart splintering like an old piece of wood that needs to be sanded down.

He closes his eyes against the burn, his throat closing, and it takes him too long to open his eyes and say, "I'm going to miss you, too."

Eddie sits up a little, locks one arm in place and rests his head on his palm. He has a gentle smile on his face when Buck turns to look at him, and Buck suddenly feels caught, trapped with nowhere to go, and when he opens his mouth, he says,

"We can always, y'know, look at the stars. Together."

might actually be one of my favorite fics ive posted this year

half his heart and soul (320~, g)

Buck gets it, is the thing. He would do the same, he thinks, if he were in Eddie's shoes. He would do it all, and more, for Christopher. So, he gets it.

He's not mad, he's not confused. He understands.

Eddie's heart and soul is in El Paso, Texas, so he's following it.

What he doesn't understand is the way Eddie is still wringing his hands nervously, fidgeting. He doesn't understand why he can only meet Buck's eyes fleetingly, like he knows, if Buck looks for more than a second at a time, he would see something he doesn't want him to see.

And Buck wants to see, but he's being a good friend, so he doesn't ask. Doesn't chase Eddie's eyes, no matter how much he wants to.

December

almost married (340~, g)

Buck is mindlessly browsing through suits when Eddie steps out of the changing room, arms spread out a little, hair swooping, cheeks pink, and a bright smile stretching his lips.

Buck's breath hitches, and he blinks once, twice, before abandoning the rack of suits and walking over to Eddie.

"What do you think?" Eddie asks, still smiling brightly, like he already knows what Buck thinks.

"Do a spin," Buck says, sounding a little breathless, and Eddie laughs, but he does do a spin, raising an eyebrow when Buck fails to look away fast enough from how the pants are snuggly hugging his ass.

"Yeah," Buck says softly, "That's the one."

Eddie beams. "Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah," Buck takes another step closer, and now he's close enough Eddie has to slightly tilt his face up to keep looking at his face. "Yeah, it is."

no pressure tagging @confessionseddie @buick118 @moonsharky @letthesunburnyourskin @capseycartwright @tidesreach <33

[gloomysoup]

keeping the christmas magic

@steddiebingo christmas prompt: santa

rating: Teen+ | word count: 920 | tags: omegaverse, good uncle wayne munson | ao3

another edition to the home is where you are universe :)

“Daddy, is Santa real?”

Eddie’s head shot up from the budget book he’d had open in front of him on the coffee table. That was the last question he expected to come out of his four-year-old’s mouth.

“What d’you mean, love bug?” he asked slowly.

Violet shrugged her little shoulders. “Is Santa real, or is he pretend? Because Patrick at school says he’s pretend, and it's just daddies putting presents under the tree. And he said Emily was a baby because she told him Santa was real.”

Eddie took a breath as he nodded along to what his daughter was saying. “Okay… and what do you think, Vi?”

Again, Violet shrugged. “That's why I asked.”

“Mhmm.”

Fuck.

What was he supposed to say? Violet was only four, for fuck’s sake. Eddie thought for sure they had at least two more years before this came up, and he thought it would be Addie questioning everything first. He didn't expect it from Violet; not yet at least.

Just then, Steve came in with little James on his hip. Eddie’s savior, really. He always did stand by the opinion that two minds were better than one, especially when it came to their kids. Even more so when it was Steve’s mind.

“Stevie, baby!” he greeted. “Come help me and Vi for a minute?”

Steve frowned, but he sat down beside Eddie on the couch. He moved James to his lap. “What's up?”

“Is Santa real?” Violet asked again, her face the picture of innocence.

Steve's eyes widened as he looked at Eddie with undertones of panic.

“Patrick at school says Santa isn't real,” Eddie added. “Now Violet wants to know if Patrick is right.”

“Oh. Patrick. I see.” Steve cleared his throat. “Um… well, Vi, uh….”

Violet sat so patiently, staring at Steve and Eddie while waiting for their answer. Meanwhile, her parents were having a very intense silent conversation with their eyes. No one had prepared them for this.

“Why don't we call and ask Poppy?” Eddie suggested. “He knows lots of stuff. I bet he’ll have a good answer for you.”

“Good idea,” Steve agreed quickly, reaching for the phone on the table and taking the receiver off the cradle. He dialed the number quickly, having memorized it ages ago. It rang for a moment before Wayne’s voice came through.

“Yello?”

“Wayne! It's Steve. Um… I'm here with Eddie and Violet, and Violet has a pretty important question. We thought Poppy would have a good answer for her.”

“Okay… What's the question?”

Violet scrambled over Eddie to stick her face next to the speaker. “Poppy, is Santa real?” she asked, voice raised to make sure Wayne heard her.

“Oh. That is… quite the question.” Wayne cleared his throat a little, followed by a short cough. “You and Ed havin’ trouble answerin’ that one, Steve?”

“Maybe….”

Wayne chuckled. “Just tell her Santa runs on the magic o’ believin’. If no one believes in 'im, his sleigh can't get here from the North Pole. Worked with Ed ‘til he was old enough to figure out all that was a load o’ horse shit.”

Steve sighed in relief. “Thanks, Wayne. You're a lifesaver.”

Wayne laughed. “No problem, son. Good luck, and give the pups some love for me. I’ll see y'all for Christmas in a few days. Love y’all.”

“Yeah, we’ll be there. Love you too. ‘Bye.” Steve hung up the phone and pulled Violet into his side. He pressed a kiss to the top of her curly hair. “Poppy says that Santa runs on the magic of believing,” he said softly. “As long as we believe in him, his sleigh can get here from the North Pole. But if everyone stops believing in him, he can't make it all this way.”

Violet sat silently for a moment, taking it in. Then she nodded resolutely and got off the couch. “Okay,” she said before taking off for the room she shared with her sister.

Eddie blinked after her. “That was easy….”

“Yeah….” Steve huffed a laugh and looked at James, who was happily sucking on his paci. “What on earth are we gonna do with your sister?”

“Thank God for Wayne Munson, huh?”

“Ain't that the truth.”

Eddie looked at Steve. “You know it's only a matter of time before the girls outgrow Santa, don't you?”

Steve sighed. “Yeah. I'm not looking forward to it, though.”

“Me either.”

Steve reached over and grabbed Eddie’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “I guess we’ll just have to take it in stride, just like we always do.”

Eddie nodded. Then he cracked a small grin. “Maybe… we just need more pups to keep the magic going.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, causing Steve to burst out laughing.

“You are insatiable, Eddie Munson.”

He merely shrugged, still smiling. “You know you love me.”

“Of course I do,” Steve replied with an eye roll. “Doesn't mean you always make it easy on me.”

Eddie shot back against the couch dramatically, hands over his heart. “Oh! How you wound me, my love!”

Just then, the girls came running into the living room. They took their opportunity, launching onto the couch. They landed on top of Eddie, forcing a soft oomph out of him before the pups dissolved into giggles that made his heart so happy. Eddie hugged his girls as Steve laughed, never tiring of the sound of their laughter in his ears.

He loved his little life, despite the curveballs his pups liked to throw at them.

[tactical-jellyfish]

Watcher 1-1

Part Four

Call this shit the silly before the storm because they're getting SILLY!!!

Warnings!: The 141 will be criminally stupid, fumblers, all of them. Death (canon-typical), Violence (canon-typical), loss of limb (no, I won't tell you who yet >:), but I will cover the symptoms as well as possible) They do get kissy, but no smut (that I'm writing, but it's very much implied).

"This is Firecracker, completing final equipment check."

You can hardly keep the tremor from your voice as you grin into the radio, finally wrapping up your very first official mission on the 141.

It went just as it should have, a quick in and out, with the exception of a small gash on your thigh, an order not followed quickly enough from Price's end that left you in the hot seat. Ghost was watching your six the whole time, just like he'd promised on the fly in.

He'd said I always will, sergeant. Something in your gut squeezed when he did, but you ignored it.

Now, that skull-masked Brit sits across from you in the big belly of the helicopter–a stupidly pretty Pave Low that Nikolai was flying, as per usual–and you see the fabric rustle a little on his cheeks.

Like he's smiling.

Before you can really ponder that, or why it makes you want to see it again, Johnny is attaching himself to your side, waxing poetic about how good ye were, leannan, I knew we were right to go wie ye.

You grin wider than you would like to admit as you shove him lightly, one hand right on his waist to hold him at least a little further back, to pretend you weren't stupidly fond of him already, like he hadn't proven himself to be a wonderful teammate and... fuck, a good friend to boot.

Helping you unjam your gun, correcting your posture with a sort of gentleness you never knew you were deserving of.

Of course, thoughts of Johnny always bring thoughts of Kyle, too.

You can see him there, sitting next to Price, looking like an outside observer, like he's just passing by.

It makes you frown.

"Gaz?"

His head perks, stupidly pretty brown eyes locking onto yours without a moment of delay, always at the ready.

Goodness, you're terrible for finding him so pretty.

"Fuck're you sitting over there for? With the geezers? Did we suddenly get boring or something?"

The toothy grin you give must be enough to prevent the individual wrath of both your lieutenant and captain, because when Price gives you a look, Simon taps his thigh, just once. John huffs, but relaxes again, still looking squarely at you with something sharper than before in his eyes.

When you look away, slightly unsettled, Kyle's there beside you too, and you gladly pull him in to your little predicament with one very clingy Scotsman.

Yes, you're all grown adults. Does that make tussling in seats that should only be sat in any less fun?

Absolutely not.

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

You're not exactly sure why or how you let this happen.

All you're fully aware of is that Johnny and Kyle managed to drag you out to an actual bar to celebrate.

It's a small spot, but cozy and playful, balmy in atmosphere with some temptingly good hip-hop that you don't quite recognize, but listen to anyway.

Kyle sits on the end of the booth that's pressed to the wall, Johnny on the other side. You pick the wall, get a good look at the men before you.

Johnny's wearing a nice deep red shirt, unbuttoned enough to show off the glint of dog-tags on his pale skin, and the fabric of Kyle's thick cargo pants brushes against your thigh, forcing you to swallow as you smile.

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

Most of the night, the chatter is sweet, you'd be hard pressed to understand how you got here.

Something is roiling in your gut, but it's most definitely not the shot you've just knocked back, it's hotter.

Johnny's since taken up his place by your side, already flushed from how tipsy he is. You're gonna need to flag a cab home, all three of you, considering Kyle was just as blasted as the two of you, even if he's drinking you and Johnny under the table. you have no idea how he does it.

"Fuuuuucckkkkk..."

You groan as the sting of alcohol wears away to leave the bitter taste of the shot itself. It's not worth how bad your head is going to hurt tomorrow morning, but the way Kyle's looking at you is.

His eyes are terrible in the way they make you desperately try not to shiver, a beautiful brown yellowed to a lovely syrupy color in the warm lighting of the bar.

Before you do something stupid, or worse, say something stupid, you force yourself to comment on the shot instead.

"Is... is this 80 proof, Kyle?"

Your voice is tripping over itself a little, tongue slowed in your mouth until its motions are clumsy. You know he hears you, and you know he understands by how he swallows before meeting your eyes, opening his mouth to reply before he's cut off by a slightly pink Scotsman.

"Och, feckin' naughty dog, aye? Wha' do ye think we should do wie him, Firecracker?"

Johnny's breath is right against the column of your throat, teasing at the side with a warmth it has no right to have. A hot shiver grips you by the base of your spine, and you can feel your breath get caught in your throat for just a second too long.

"Johnny, you're-"

"I ken. Jus' havin' a wee bit of craic, tha's not a crime, is it?"

You're too focused on the blue-eyed menace to spot how hungrily Kyle is looking at the pair of you, the way his hand reaches out until it's holding you by the chin, gently guiding your face up to his.

"You know, you do things to people, Firecracker. He's just returning the favor."

His voice is ever so slightly lower, a little blurred by the liquor, but fuck it makes you swallow all of your pride anyway.

"Do I really?"

You're trying so hard to tease, you really are, but even you can catch how breathy you sound, and you can see Kyle's plush lips turn up at the corners, you watch him lean down until there's barely any space between your faces.

Maybe it's habit, maybe it's a mindless craving, but your head tilts to the side, and you watch him chuckle.

That's all that you can really see before there are lips on yours.

He's so warm, you can taste the sweetness of his old scotch when he parts his lips, tenderly traces his tongue on the seam of your own, like you're something to be revered, durable but deserving of good treatment.

You can feel your cheeks flame with color so fast it's nearly dizzying, every single system of your body lighting up as your gut flutters and your brain shuts itself off, focused entirely on the sensations that envelop you.

Johnny's at your back now, so very close to kissing at your neck, his breath ghosts over your pulse, and the feel of a strong body behind you makes everything double, forcing a muffled groan that Kyle eagerly swallows up before pulling away.

"Shit. Johnny was right."

Truth be told, Kyle had held his reservations about this. But having you there, flushed and hot and swollen-lipped from his kissing, he's struggling to think of any of those reasons.

Instead, he cradles your flushed face in his hands, and you spot him leaning down to peck Johnny's lips, too.

"You're gonnae be good, leannan, I cannae wait to have ye."

Johnny isn't as gentle as Kyle, you can feel his eagerness in the way his teeth catch a little against your skin before he really plans to, kissing and nibbling at your flesh as he suckles on it.

Kyle's grinning now, and he presses another kiss to the corner of your mouth, playfully licking into you with an energy that makes you want to sob.

It felt so wonderfully good. Terribly good, it makes you grip at his shirt, trying to pull him close enough to get a real kiss.

You can feel him smile against your lips, shift enough to give you what he knows you need.

It's wonderfully filthy, hot and heavy and you know you won't last much longer.

Johnny and Kyle know this, too.

First chapter | Previous chapter | Next chapter

[donquixotehomura]

Me rn anticipating the purgatory pile 😂.

I don't have that much in drafts.... Does the ones in my brain count? Anyways the written ones.

One of them is actually complete and just needs the tags and such to be posted but... Well procrastination... Doffy x Yandere reader.... I thought like.. He's always the Yandere so why not have her be the Yandere? Also it's more in HC form (I think that's what it's called) with some detailed story telling... But it's all about how Yandere, Yandere reader is..... And how Doffy doesn't see anything wrong with it cause he's Doffy 😂.

I've got another one same situation as the 1st one but it's reader fully accepted Doffy being a Yandere for her.... Cause honestly I see all those red flags but still I'd rather he kidnapped me away from my life and kept me by his side, I don't have to deal with people, work, deal with bosses and coworkers... Like fr? I just need to look pretty and not show interest in anybody else and be all over you? Damn that's a nice deal seeing as I'm already obsessed with you and I'm so happy you noticed me.. Yay (don't do this irl ppl 😂)

Now onto one that's incomplete in writing but is fully in my head.... Actually I have a multi chapter fic in my head for it.... Doflamingo's Daughter... How would Doffy be if he had a bio daughter (knowing this horny flamingo it's very easy to assume he was irresponsible once as a teen and BAAM... A hellspawn) I have the idea of him being like 16-18 when he has her, he spoils her all the time, she's his blood, so she deserves the best of the best.... But him struggling to be a single dad... Too arrogant to ask for help and most definitely won't throw his daughter to someone else to raise her.... He won't fail her in anyway like his father failed him..... She grows up very attached to him and what he did at first as a superiority, arrogance situation quickly becomes "this little girl is my life and I won't let anyone or anything hurt her.... I'll burn down islands and go to war with the World Government for her sake"....current fic (1st chapter) is him getting her.... Her mother abandoned her with him not wanting anything to do with her (can't pretend nothing bad happened to her due to that)... Him trying to figure out how to parent and also grappling with the fact that this tiny creature is so damn loud... And also she quieted down immediately the moment he held her to his chest which made him like "???" Doffy.exe has run into an error 😂

The whole thing is about Dad Doffy and how on paper he's a good dad.... Well he is but he's raising a narcissistic maniac who's used to getting what she wants no matter what and has murder, destruction, conquering tendencies...... Yeah he's raising a female version of himself minus the trauma 😂

Quick note that won't fully work in (reader) setting I always write my fics in OC form then edit it to be reader form (my brain works weird) but his daughter is called Luna (Goddess of the Moon also in Spanish the moon is La Luna) so he always calls her his little moon, the light in his darkness, she lights up his dark life like the moon lights up the night sky.

As a child Luna was totally adorable and cute and loving towards Doflamingo, like always running to him "dada dada wove" and hugs and kisses on his cheek and nose ♥️..... Which also causes Doffy.exe has run into an error please..... Stop being so unconditionally loving why? How? Just... It's been so long since I felt this.... It's so genuine and pure not out of fear or need of being in his good graces or even trying to use him like everyone else.

That's a lot of ranting damn 😂 anyways done... Not gonna start talking about the wife OC (adjustable to reader) that I made I whole ass new race/clan for with their own abilities and lore that can both match his energy and also put him in his place cause many reasons but one of them is she's taller and bigger than him (not by much) and that just does things to him without her even trying 😂..... Both fluffy and sexual... Like being the small spoon has never been so tempting and amazing..... She just knows how to baby him....

Also brat taming and matching strapons/dick to her height but sssshhhh

WIP Tag Game

Thank you so much for the tag @fanaticsnail 💕🫶🏻❤️ I can’t wait for Rockier Port Incident and some pollen fics and so much Kid Pirates you’re writing, love it.

Rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your wip folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Tag as many people as you have wips. People send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, then post a little snippet or tell them something about it!

(Me, opening my folder)

Haahaha, fuuuuuck

Okay, so let’s focus on the active WIPs that I am working on daily. All of them are Doflamingo x Reader in some form. I have only one fully Corazon x Reader but you can also ask regarding that one. P.S. NSFW usually it isn't thaaat smutty but just Doffy's inner thoughts are horny as hell in a lot of these and there are dark/adult themes throughout so... Yeah! If there is a bit of smut I'll put it as 🌶️, if the fic is smut-only 🌶️🌶️🌶️)

I’ll build castles for you, my love (look at me, not my brother) - Doflamingo x Rosinante's Wife! Reader (and some Past Rosinante) (multi-chap, NSFW, 🌶️)

Merlot & Primroses - North Blue Doflamingo x Rosinante's Wife!Reader, post Rosinante's death (multi-chap, NSFW, 🌶️)

close your eyes (it’ll all be over soon) - Doflamingo x Rosinante’s Wife!Reader (NSFW one-shot 🌶️🌶️🌶️ set in Merlot & Primroses where North Blue Doflamingo treats you differently when he meets you aka when you thought it can’t be more fucked up and dark, Doflamingo laughs in your face)

resemblance - Doflamingo x Rosinante’s Wife!Reader (NSFW one-shot, 🌶️🌶️🌶️)

marigolds - Marineford! Doflamingo (my love aka I squeal when I see him, I love him and his orange pants and his half buttoned shirt, and the fact he is fully wearing his coat and looks like a pink pom pom, "Doflamingo, I choose you!🦩" sir are you free on Saturday 😳😳😳) x Rosinante's Wife! Reader (SFW, oneshot)

As you can see, the Rosinante's Wife!Reader trope has a real hold on me. I got the idea in August and am still writing about it. Idk what it is about it. Prob cus the trope of Doffy longing after Cora's wife is so very Doffy of him? Now... For...

Celestial Dragon Doflamingo Fics 🤍

There are a few main ones. To know, Reader is not a Celestial Dragon in any of these stories.

Celestial Dragon Doffy x Rosinante’s Wife!Reader (NSFW multi-chap, 🌶️)

everything the world can offer - Returned to Mariejois Celestial Doflamingo x Civilian!Reader (NSFW, one-shot or multi-chap, tbd, 🌶️)

your saint - Returned to Mariejois Celestial Doflamingo x Doflamingo’s Wife! Reader (NSFW, one-shot, 🌶️🌶️🌶️)

butterflies and daffodils - Mariejois Raised Celestial Doflamingo x Civilian!Reader (NSFW, one-shot)

For these other ones, I’m mostly struggling with deciding how Reader reacts to Celestial Dragon! Doffy, depending on their history or lack of it, and it also depends whether this is Never Left Mariejois Doffy or Came Back and was Accepted Back Celestial Doffy. Those two are vastly different 🤣 I want to write a naive Reader but also Reader who is aware enough of how CRAZY Celestial Dragons are but then you get to that fear/dread factor once more and deciding how much of that to describe bcs what if they’re childhood friends, would that fear factor burst its head out regardless of their history? Would Reader just be appeasing Doffy while also still letting her guard down and just interacting with him like nothing’s changed?

(Sighs) I am overthinking myb a bit too much? Who knows...

Also, making this tag game for artists, too, same rules apply if the artists are comfortable with sharing their art wips as in the title of the art wip they’re working on!

Tagging @moonbaby26 @daydreamer-in-training @ohnomyhooves @skullfacedlady @tuquidflamingo @veroinfaciem @magnoliandew @wrennyx @darklordofcutlets @sugarpsalms @allmightskitten @froggiewrites @queenmimi2817 @ladycrocy @saracrossing02

[galindatopland]

was tagged by @lottienat to post 8 shows to get to know me better. shockingly hard to pick actually but i think those are The Ones

person of interest: my ultimate Fave Show. i never rewatched any other show as many times in my life, i could talk about it for hours at any given moment and root is my fave character of all time (hence the icon). i doubt any show and character will ever be as important to me ngl this sounds very lame but it's a part of me now

the haunting of hill house: it's my annual therapy session i think nothing else helped me with grief as much as this show so it's very dear to me. i specifically mean thohh to be clear. i'm not into bly manor and generally flanagan is a hit or miss for me but thohh i do adore. two storms is my fave episode of tv after person of interest's if-then-else

the good place: EMOTIONAL SUPPORT SITCOM BEST TV FINALE OF ALL TIME. means so much to me

yellowjackets: well there's no point explaining is there. considering the state of my blog

killing eve: s4 doesn't exist to me whatsoever and s3 is on thin ice but god there will never be anything like this again. villanelle and eve are some of the most characters of all time

russian doll: MEANS SO MUCH TO ME. you may not know this because i haven't actually blogged about it all that much but i feel deeply understood by this show and it's tone and emotional punches and humor are out of this world. it's perfectly crafted - both seasons - and brilliant

orphan black: finally watched all of it last year and it's actually quite a satisfying ending. it lost me for a good while cause the plot got too convoluted and it became tiring to watch but i'm still attached to the characters and s1 continues to be one of the best seasons of television of all time

lost: listen i'm one of the rare people who actually liked the ending and i love those characters sooooo much i think in terms of Good Characters it's such a great show. made me cry so many times

tagging some new mutuals sorry if that's too forward 🙈 @poetrylesbian @taiturner @teabookgremlin @explosionshark @fabaceous AND @villanevehaus cause i'm curious

[krysmcscience]

Don't mind me, just slacking on a big Billford comic by making other far more ridiculous Billford comics and also some AU art (please excuse my slapdash human!Bill thank you please, also before anyone asks the art style is messy and all over the place because idgaf LOL)

This started out as an excuse to design a Bill Cipher-inspired "wedding" dress, but then spiraled wildly out of control. Various rambles and a bunch more human!Bill arts under the cut, including another silly little comic at the end! (Feel free to skip the rambles, I won't be offended. I know I'm bad at shutting up. XD)

I may or may not write some comedy stuff for this AU, which I'm calling 'For Better Or Worse (But Mostly Worse)'. While Ford DOES remember getting sloshed enough for one thing to lead to making out with another after karaoke, neither he nor Bill remember this wedding, At All. The Love God did nothing to dissuade them from going hog wild on their marriage spending, either, so it got...uh. Exorbitantly Expensive. As in, the grand total could probably buy the entire fucking MOON sort of expensive. (It's fine, don't worry, Bill's good enough at crime to be able to afford it.) Also, because the logic of this AU is mostly dictated by Rule of Funny, the Love God's powers are close to unlimited when it comes to matters of romance, but ONLY when it comes to matters of romance. (Like weddings!)

Want an empty human vessel to smash the soul of a triangle into for date nights or when it's convenient, or perhaps even when it's NOT convenient? Easy peasy! Want the marriage to be recognized in every corner of the multiverse from now until the end of time, thus making any potential future divorce nigh-on impossible? Can do! Want to buy an entire beach for the ceremony and honeymoon and in general, and totally not at all because it would be Super Hilarious to prevent any specific movies from being made on that very same beach in the future? Fine, whatever, it's not his finances he's ruining!

Does the Love God also provide special rings that just so happen to turn incorporeal as long as the "happy couple" doesn't remember that they barged into his dreams to bully him into presiding over their marriage? ...No comment!

He spends the next thirty years trying and failing to get in touch with either of them for payment. This is why you should always demand half the money up front, my guy!

Also it's absolutely a traditional Jewish wedding, because I like the idea of Bill demanding all the keepsakes from the marriage that he paid for, and being completely confused when one of the things he's handed is a fancy container full of broken glass. He gets it later, but in the moment, he thinks the Love God is just fucking with him some more.

Ramble over! Here's the full dress that caused the comic to happen, along with what Ford wound up wearing at the wedding (and begrudgingly agreeing to put on again later for Reasons), aaaaand also a close-up of Bill's ring:

I may have forgotten to draw Bill's hair floofier when drawing the back of the dress, lmao

Since double ring ceremonies have been leaking over into Jewish wedding customs for a while now, Ford also has a ring, but his is the much more traditional plain gold band. There's definitely a message engraved on the inside - embarrassing, cringe, or incriminating somehow - but I haven't decided what it is yet, so use your imagination for now. XD Bill, on the other hand, saw the phrase 'traditional plain gold band' and said "No Thank You" before proceeding to embellish his ring to his liking. And because he's a secret sap who adores Ford's extra fingers, the triangle points add up to twelve, as do the engraved stars. Yes, they're stars, not dots, I just got lazy. There's also six lashes on the eye gem, and probably an eye engraving on the inside with another six lashes. (Bill's got it BAD, okay? We all know this.)

Here are the initial scribbles of Bill's custom vessel in more casual attire, please ignore the wonky anatomy and the fact that I flat out refuse to ever draw him with a proper top hat:

He does actually need a cane in this vessel; since Bill tends to possess men and especially Ford more often than not, he's used to having a higher center of gravity when in a human body, so his ability to balance is pretty garbage. (He may or may not topple over with concerning regularity.) As for his empty eye socket, his bangs don't do much to hide it since he's so high-energy (dude is constantly on the move), and he also refuses to wear a patch over it, because 1.) why bother, and 2.) it's more fun to freak people out.

To better align with Ford's attraction towards the strange, the vessel was designed with super minor shapeshifting ability - Bill can look like a perfectly normal human, but he can also make the teeth and fingers sharper whenever he likes (which is mostly just when he's angry or being more of a menace than usual), as well as slit down the pupils or outright ditch the irises altogether. He can also have whatever he wants in the downstairs department, just because I'm an indecisive bitch on that front, lmao. Maybe he can have boobs if he wants them, too, but I ain't drawin' tits on no triangle, nuh-uh, no sir. His powers are otherwise limited down to what humans can do, because for some reason, the Love God doesn't trust Bill to not snap into Immediate Apocalypse Mode if he's given a physical form that's actually all his and no one else's.

Due to the body being all his and no one else's, it's also not really a standard possession so much as it is just...Bill being temporarily human. He's a lot more aware of and in tune with his human body's senses than he ever was with his "puppets", which makes things like pain a lot more intense. (He is mostly fine with this, because he's a fukken masochist.)

A bit more fashion stuff, including beach and party attire~

The beach outfit was mostly me trying and failing to nail down his body shape, which is still not bottom-heavy enough. I then decided to slap a bikini on it, before making it supremely unsexy with a pair of fugly shorts, because Bill's fashion choices are not allowed to be conventionally attractive. Meanwhile, the party outfit was mostly me looking at the casual attire I designed, asking 'how would Bill make this Worse', and then drawing the result. The mismatched thigh-highs are killing me inside! :D

No, his vessel can't actually summon fire, I just drew it for funzies before I decided on said vessel's limitations. Yes, the gold brick tattoos are absolutely a reference to the fic 'Knowing Me, Knowing You' - I simply could not resist.

I also HAD to draw Bill in one of his canonical(?) shirts, just made tank-top'd:

He is absolutely about to over-correct and fall backwards after this. USE YOUR CANE, GOOFBALL!!! (I meant to draw Bill closer to this degree of bottom-heavy in the other images, but. Alas. I am bad at anatomy, LOL)

And, last but not least before More Comic Time, I attempted to draw him closer to Gravity Falls style:

Jury's out on whether or not I succeeded, but - hey. I tried. Now have some Handyman Bill AU, but with my goofy human design, instead:

Hey, it's a 'mystery snack', and the guy wanted A BITE to eat - the joke was right there, guys!!! (Based on this post, because it just screamed BILL CIPHER to me.)

whoops i forgor bills ring and cracks ahaha too late now

I WILL SHUT UP AND STOP RAMBLING NOW K THX BYYYYYE

[chiropteracupola]

"Are you finished with my portrait yet? Show me!" "Cipacton, I can't draw you if you keep moving!"

[myreia]

✦ D I S C I P L E O F T H E H A N D

Alchemy for potions. Blacksmithing for repairs. Leatherworking and weaving for mending. She is not an artisan, but the basic skills she has picked up over the years have served her well. Self-sufficiency has always been at the forefront of her mind, and she is pleased that she can keep herself afloat when needed. Besides, crafting is relaxing. A hobby or two here and there is good for her mind. —level 90 compendium

[fisherrprince]

oh so alisaie’s exaggerated bully behavior is 80% fanon. saying this she casually picks up a large rock

[nomidreams]

god i finally watched new episodes my honest reaction is jgiwoaoKzmxmkwkakkak

[jestiamy]

qsmp makes me feel like a conspiracy theorist almost constantly. I see someone go "yeah bad almost exclusively chooses tophats in games when given the option" and I immediately run back to my conspiracy board and pin that next to the photo of q!slime and q!mariana saying they'll adopt juanaflippa because she has glasses like q!slime/q!mariana respectively under a sticky note captioned "??? the original spanish-english egg pairs were designed in a way meant to attract certain parents to adopting them???", that's connected by red string to a note pad page stating "how random was the parent pairing REALLY?" with nothing under it - which is then connected to a string that leads to several polaroids containing the ending(s) of the wall and the wreckage of the button, captioned "why build a wall that big only to have it end at a certain point?" followed by a string connected to a notebook page in the middle of the board reading "the illusion of choice?" - connected to several other seemingly dead-end questions and theories, as well as some slight stragglers only connected to eachother and not the middle. and then I look over my board covered in feverish notes and I go. yeah okay so I may just have like a slight problem

[kerothi]

What are you the patron saint of?

Patron saint of Heartbreak not of comfort. not of condolences. there is a heart and there is a fissure, a fracture, something that starts to splinter and break open. you're the patron saint of the way a heart is rent open. the way it tears itself apart. patron saint of the rift. patron saint of the gash. when they say to "open your heart" to somebody, you are the patron saint of bleeding out.

tagged by: stolen from: @wellfell c:

tagging: @praesidi | @astutior | @massensterben | @calcitration | @ausdauer & you!