#i noticeably started to put less effort in each drawing

[palskippah]

Mareach making flower crowns based over that official image sjdksjd it was going to be a redraw but then I said ok but what if they were making them for their babies :'v

[feelingdozy]

SHUT UP AND DANCE - Robert Reynolds

Summary: When Val decides to set up a party for The New Avengers that they must attend, Bob finds himself stuck between his long lasting crush on you and his overwhelming doubt as the event swiftly sneaks up on him.

Warnings: oblivious Bob and reader, tooth-rotting fluff, friends to lovers, eventual romance, alluding to intimacy, fantasizing about each other, party setting, crowds, mention of anxiety

w/c: 3,3k

a/n: I got inspired while listening to old songs and one of them was this one and I just had to write something fluffy out for it and it reminded me so much of Bob

"you use this as your chance, swoop in, take her by the arm and ta-da! You got her heart" Yelena explained enthusiastically to Bob.

"That's-" he huffed, "it's not gonna work, Lena." Trying to deflect all possible reasoning it could be true.

"You got to believe me- or, better yet, you try! Bob!" She followed as the man started to retreat back to his room, hand twirling a rogue strand of hair that had fallen with his eager strides.

"it's like a damn teenage dream! I- I just don't think.. I'd just embarrass myself." He admitted while Yelena had caught up to join him at the front of his door, his fingers now absentmindedly toying with each other to distract him from the truth he tried so hard to not make adherent to himself as much as he already had.

Yelena sighed in turn, "Just you see Bob- tonight. Tonight will be the night." Before turning away, she grabbed both his hands and squeezed in silent reassurance.

"just you see."

Tonight was the night that the team, well more like Val and happy agreements like Alexei had been in tune with, had wanted to do a celebration of sorts for the commemoration of the new title, The New Avengers.

There were frowns and hidden pouts among the crowd when she had first briefed them on the whole idea, something to draw the media and gain a crowd, good social media credibility!

Except Bob's eyes, and mind, and pretty much everything else was faced towards you. At first you had been quite open to the idea but.. as she progressed it became less and less about the team and more and more about the people it drew in with the live attraction as you guys as the zoo animals.

He agreed in retrospect, but having a moment to be able to see you in a dress was a silent prayer answered by the unfortunate Val gods. So the man stayed quiet in the corner and let the rest of the team discuss the precautions and different levels of motion involved for this to work and for them to agree to it.

Hosted on a floor of the avengers tower meant not much travelling nor effort into going somewhere new and strenuous setup, but moreso that their privacy might be even more up for grabs than before.

After the meeting had been adjourned, Bob had followed your path to the couch, making yourself comfortable while putting your head in your hands. He noticed. Of course he noticed.

The boy noticed absolutely everything. The way you fiddled with the hem of your shirt when nervous, retreated to your room when flushed and embarrassed, mouthed the words of others when subtly wanting to join in on a conversation.

You had striked him as interesting in all sorts of ways that didn't end and instead grew as a whole, eventually bundled up to hard-kept and secret feelings that Yelena had eventually seen bubble to the surface.

She had found it in the gentle touches he unconsciously had given to you. His fingertips lingering after graciously taking the remote from your hand to scavenge for a movie on the nights the team rotated staying up and watching dramatic romcoms or stupid action movies while stuffing popcorn down their throat.

The way you leaned into him after a heavier mission, one that had you with more bruises and cuts that left a good mark and took a week to heal, and how he held you with nothing but eyes that looked like you hung the stars for him.

How he had always found you a souvenir while out. A random thrift or second hand store and saw a trinket that reminded him of you- a cat made into a key holder that had stayed on one of your dressers since he had brought it back to its rightful place with you.

She knew Bob was lovesick- but also painfully oblivious. She knew the look on your face that wondered exaclty what his touches meant to the two of you, but kept to an unsteady silence that he took as peace. And although it was, it always made you wonder.

To keep that peace exactly where it was, you'd have rather not done anything to test the boundaries in case you were painfully wrong. Mistakenly ending your friendship with Bob was the last thing you wanted.

As the day had slowly come to night, the bustling had started. People crowded in different places with many different orders as Val stood out among the rest with her colored strip of hair and over the top dress that she had chosen for the night, unafraid of the looks she got from others when people had been told to keep it casual. Mel by her side, cautiously trying to keep up with everything going on around her, demands, yelling, words that blended in with the sudden growing amounts of people.

Bob found himself struggling to find his suit he had misplaced somewhere in the depths of his closet. He knew for a fact it was buried deep, as he thought he'd never have to wear it, as he'd decline the offer to go to these kinds of things- though he knows he wouldn't be able to decline it at all.

As he pulled it out from the jumbled mess of clothes now all over his floor, he jumped when he heard a knock at his door. Double-taking while holding it in his hand deciding whether or not he wanted to show it off yet. Taking too long to decide, he kept it closely in his hand to his torso. Opening the door, he least expected to find you staring back at him.

"y/n! Hey- what uh, you doing here?" He laughed almost awkwardly, caught off guard and scanning your figure, noticing your already done up hair but normal pj's that he'd seen you wear around the compound before.

"sorry I- didn't mean to interrupt you" you started with a sigh, "Lena was supposed to help me get into this dress and now, she won't answer her damn calls and I can't find her anywhere."

As you complained, a glint in his eyes had come forward. Damn Yelena had started setting him up before the party had even begun.

"are you able to lend a bit of your time? If not I totally understand-"

"yes!" Too fast, too swiftly. "I-i mean yes of course, not busy at all no, no."

He gestured for you to come in by opening his door wider, now seeing a dress that was held behind your back the entire time, too focused on looking at how your shirt hung nicely off your shoulder revealing the skin underneath, and the way your hair had been styled to notice

"you alright if I'm changing in here?" At the realization of exactly what you were asking of him finally landing, the tips of his ears had lit up within seconds and he was milliseconds away from completely combusting.

"yeah! Bathroom.." he went to point to it, but instead turned around to find you shimmying out of your pjs down to your bra and underwear, unbothered and relaxed in his presence.

Both honored and scared truly out of his mind, he whipped his head back around so hard he thought he might've given himself whiplash at the absolute vision in front of him. Was he getting a fucking boner?

"Bob- Bob a little help with the zipper please? You called out kindly, jolting him back to reality. With a swat and pull of his lazily sat sweatpants, he walked over mumbling multiple quiet sorry's.

His fingers had gently put their weight in caressing the dress where the zipper had originated, making you bite your lip down both at the fleeting touches and sudden closeness that felt so intimate, but like nothing at the same time. That was a lie. Charged- tension. Passionate. But none of you said a word.

He carried a different type of weight with just how he desired to feel you, god he had ideas in his head he definitely shouldn't share out loud, nor to anyone in that case. Your mind wasn't exactly safe from the thought either, both too caught up in the moment that held so much- yet not enough to confess. Too scared, too anxious, not wanting to ruin something so darn good.

He fantasized- so much so that his lips were dangerously close to pressing themselves to the curve of open skin deliciously sticking out where the zipper hadn't reached to cover you, so tempting that it had put him in a trance. You looked so soft- delectable, so damn beautiful, otherworldly distracting. He wanted to worship you-

"you got it, Bob?" You swore you could feel his breath fanning you.

"y-yeah got it." He replied, trying to act cool while he had zipped it completely like he wasn't imagining taking it off of you.

Returning back to his original spot further away from you, he still hadn't put on his suit. Scurrying to the bathroom with many excuse me's, he had come out almost a different sight.

You held a whine as a long sigh, catching it luckily down deep in your throat before it had a chance to reveal itself. His hair was slicked nicely to where the ends were still visible all the way down to bottom length, protruding to frame his neck, his suit clinging to all the right places as it had made friends with the muscles on his back as he combed the stray hairs out of place, and almost traced his hidden abs for you to view beneath his white, almost translucent teasing undershirt.

Nothing to the damn imagination. You hoped you weren't drooling.

"Do you mind helping me with the buttons?" He'd asked while trying to push one through.

"Of course- I got you."

With a smile that held back many, many thoughts, you had buttoned him up starting from bottom to top, his eyes never once leaving your hands and their magical way of doing him up so nicely.

"here, gimme your tie" you playfully demanded with a gesture of your hand.

He handed it to you without question, having no trouble swinging it around his neck and bringing your hands to drag down to the middle of his chest. God was he holding back his facial expressions like a mad man.

When finished, you patted his chest and had a giddy smile at your work.

"done! Whaddya think of my work handsome?"

Handsome. "Thank you, hahah wow you're quick." coming out rushed and half in the moment, half in his head about what the hell he had just experienced and felt.

"I'll see you at the party?" you questioned as you walked towards his door.

"Yeah!" He exclaimed before giving you a fond nod, finding yourself making your way downstairs.

Bob tied his tie a little tighter and loosened his pants quite a bit.

blaring lights and blasted speakers are the first thing that Bob is made apparent to, even just a hall away from the actual hosting place. Delicately dimmed and fancy tones in every corner line the walls with gold-like ribbons accompanied by wild colors like pinks and blues, and fancy carved features that come with the building. Signs dedicated to pointing out the right of way catch his eye as he continues, nerves only racking higher as he begins to catch the surface of lively and clustered groups dancing or fetching their seat, a combination of romantic and high pace music in the background making for a welcoming atmosphere, the mood airy with the littlest hints of formal to attract the audience just right.

Bob immediately felt out of place. Singled out, heavy breathing and holding his hands tightly together as he continued through the doors to see where a bar was and a tiny music station that didn't make much of a difference as everybody knew they wouldn't be able to actually use it. Tables lined the sides of the dance floor prominently in the middle, and an actual kitchen sat off to the side of the huge room for access to normal drinks and snacks that they might've had to keep frozen until guests arrived.

His first instict was to look for the bright blonde of Yelena's hair, but now that seemed the hardest task with multicolored lights that never rested, instead took their time traveling around the event and lighting every area once inawhile with rotating colors. Distracted and now a little dizzy, he found himself a little lost- overwhelmed and really regretting the non-negotiable invitation.

Turning himself right, then left, he was desperately trying to find something, someone to be able to ground him- lead him through this mess of random social interaction that he did not want to participate in, in the least.

Letting himself get deeper into the masses of bodies, he had found himself closer to the dance floor and less in the big handlers of conversation and questions he always muttered an answer to, both out of uncertainty and anxiety. Mingling hands and grouped whispers along with stares of women who giggled while staring lustful daggers into his eyes was not the intimidating way he wanted to go out right now.

Many excuses me's later, he had finally caught a lead on Alexei's booming laugh that somehow had the power to echo just a bit off of the wide intricate walls that boxed him in with his now sweaty and nervous demeanor, getting up close enough to finally spot the blonde he'd been trying to navigate the entire time he'd been here.

"Yelena!" He tried, but ultimately came closer to the group that consisted of Yelena dancing with Ava, John off talking to a woman in a nice velvet sequined dress that showed a high slit of the leg, and a dangling shiny gold necklace that definitely spoke money in all sorts of ways he hadn't known. Trying to draw his eyes anywhere but there, he found you as the woman in hand with Alexei, laughing while nursing a fancy cup of who-knows-what in your hand.

God- Bob had started to cling to the sides of his suit at the sight of you, so happy and enjoying a moment, your face being embraced by one of the multicolored lights that framed you so perfectly, he had seen every expression of a laugh grace your face as your eyes had squeezed shut, presumably laughing hard at one of Alexei's jokes.

Blown away? Obsessed? Down bad? All those words described the look on Bob's face, stunned in place by your figure, and that damn dress that flowed off you beautifully- causing him whiplash of guilt and shame as he hadn't even heard Yelena approach him.

"Go" Bob physically jolted back at her sudden voice in his ear, turning to look at her now directly beside him.

"W-what?"

As she continued, you turned and your eyes met his from across the floor. "Go ask her to dance. Now, Bob."

"I- im gonna get a drink, now..kitchen" he stuttered out, scrambling the crowd he worked so hard to find you in yet ending up in the empty, not so bare kitchen. He checked the fridge for anything- food, maybe a non-alcoholic drink to stable him for now.

Finding fruit punch pre-made, he took it out, placing it on the counter before pouring himself a glass and putting it back in place. He tipped his head back, hitting the higher cabinet behind him while closing his eyes and taking deep breaths recounting what he had just been through. He was, frankly, a mess.

"You in here?" a voice appeared, causing him to come back from his silence to lock eyes once again with you.

A small, almost knowing smile present on your lips- in fact you did know exactly why he came to the quietest place he could find, away from all the music, dancing and people.

"Needed quiet?" you questioned anyways, to make sure.

nodding quietly, "Y-yeah."

You leaned on the counter beside him, putting your glass down with a clack and sighing out dramatically.

"Me too.. just- too much."

His lips quirked up at your confession as well, now staring at you. Your hair had dropped in front of your face while huffing, and before he had grasped what he was doing, Bob had tucked the straying piece of hair back to its place behind your ear.

Looking at his face above you, you slowly scanned his eyes, pupils dancing wildly and heart starting to race. And slowly- slowly, Bob had placed his hand on your cheek, leaned in, and kissed you.

Lightly, like you'd regret ever putting your lips to his, he had captured your breath. Returning his touch, you cupped his hand and deepened it, making his eyes widen and a groan slip from his throat from the sudden surge of you. Your taste, the softness of your lips against his, fuck the warmth of your tongue.

You tilted your head the slightest for him to slip in just a little deeper, finding your natural rhythm in it all as you felt his tongue explore the inside of your mouth like he yearned to remember every spot of it.

Both pulling back for a breath, yet still connected by a string of saliva, you both giggled with both adrenaline and disbelief.

"you, uh- taste just like candy-no.. fruity. Bob. were you drinking fruit punch?" he chuckled quietly,

"Maybe"

"at least invite me next time" you grinned cheekily

"fuck wouldnt dream of not.. god- was it-"

"It was amazing, Bob"

"good!- good. thank god." he muttered, before you intertwined your fingers with his, guiding him to the doorway of the kitchen.

"Would you-" you started, but not wanting to lose another moment between the two of you, he had suddenly brought your knuckles up to his mouth, pressing a kiss on each one before asking himself

"Ma'am, would you honor me with a dance on this fine night?" a little teasing and a hundred percent fueled by pure desire and selfishness, he had a playful smile etched on his face matching yours, before you walked up to him and grabbed his cheeks more harshly- in a good way- he would've never expected from you.

Pressing a deep peck to his lips, "Shut up and dance with me, Bob." deathly close to his ear as your hand splayed itself on his chest, a shiver running through him at the contact and your confident words directed to him, and only him.

Dragged to the dance floor, he took your lead, swaying and twirling you as you hummed and swung him back in return wildly. Slow music had come on suddenly, and his hands had found gentlemanly purpose on your waist, holding you close and protective, yet his heart was thumping loud.

"Now don't you dare look back" you commented as you slid him a sly grin, but noticed the way his eyes traveled across the room for ones staring back at him.

Cupping his cheek, he turned swiftly back to your attention, reassuring him, "just keep your eyes on me."

He nodded back, gently rocking with both your rhythm and the song that lulled him to proper form. Seeing him become shy all of a sudden, you asked,

"are you holding something back from me, Bob?" Teasingly.

"After this- can I uh.. take you on a date? Proper one at that, not this.. y'know" music attempting to drown him out, but the only thing you were focused on was him, and the way his hands ran up and down your sides, with a squeeze bordering on protectiveness and a charming claim that said you're mine.

"Of course Bob, always."

"and forever?" He added, unsure.

"always, forever, and so on."

He smiled, boyish and largely at that and replied,

"you're my destiny"

thank you for reading :) requests are open! || Marvel Masterlist

[buurmanuitwien]

lfde

famous!reader x joost

fem!reader x joost

description: you and joost made the mutual decision to keep their relationship private and out of the public eye when you started dating. many years down the road, joost leaves a surprising comment on an edit of you. chaos ensues.

//very fluffy, like tooth rotting, angst if you look under a microscope

word count: 1.7k

WARNING: RPF FANFICTION AHEAD

No one knew the two of you were dating, in fact, the public viewed both of you as chronically single. The decision to keep your relationship private was made due to both of your sizable fanbases. Each of you were famous in your own rite, but both of you knew both the joys and struggles of being in the public eye. False rumors, creepy fans, and little privacy was enough to make the decision an easy one. 

At the time.

Over the years, as you and Joost finally realized that you were it for each other, no doubt about it, you started to feel the pull to express your love for him publicly. Your 5 year anniversary was the hard, your poor friends following your finsta were bombarded with photos of the two of you. But the part of you that wanted to let the world know that Joost was yours, and has always been yours, was still clawing away at you.

However, you knew Joost. He was a (your) wonderful, loving, kind, fun guy. But he also was anxious, guarded. He kept the things he loved close to him as if they’d slip away at a moment's notice, and he was right to think that opening a relationship up to the public eye would change things.  You agree, but you also think that you're at the place in your relationship where you could withstand pretty much anything. You didn’t know if Joost would agree though, and you didn’t ask.

So imagine your surprise that one morning. You wake up, sun bathing the room in a light glow as your bedroom’s curtains hang stiffly in their daytime positions. The spot next to you in bed is unfortunately cold. You sigh, disappointed but not surprised. His album was very close to being done, and you knew how he got when the finish line was in sight. 

You reach to your nightstand to grab your phone, only to be met with something slimy. You yelp in surprise to see your fingers are covered in grape jelly. You turn to see a plate of toast, a cup of water, and a note laying on your nightstand.

sorry lfde,

tantu coming in early 4 finishing touches. i’ll bring home the usb, you’ll love it. also, i made breakfast B)

ik hou van je lieverd

joost :p

You grinned cheesily at the note, gently folding it up and placing it in the top drawer. You had accidentally started collecting them– you couldn’t help it! You loved everything about the notes, from Joost's messy scrawl, him drawing out text emojis, to him being too lazy to spell out “liefde” and shortening it to “lfde” (a very common thing for him to do, but it’s okay, you think it’s hilarious). It’s all so very endearing and so very Joost. Not to mention the also knowing the project he had put all his time and effort into was finally going to be shared with you. He had yet to tell you much about it, you didn’t even know the title. 

You surveyed the toast before taking the plate into your hand. As you were taking your first bite, you turned on your phone. 8:18? Not bad, especially for a Friday. 26 various missed calls and 47 texts? Very bad, for literally any time. Your friends had called you a bunch, and spam texted. “WTF why didn’t u tell me u were spillin” and “do u know he did this” were a few that stuck out. As you frantically scrolled through your notifs, desperately trying to figure out what had gone on, you reached the last two notifications. Second to last was Apson, who left a simple “You’re cooked”.

Last was Joost, at 4 in the morning no less. He had woken up that early? He sent a link to a Tiktok, and said “damn.”  You clicked the link to the Tiktok, and you can honestly say you were surprised.

Now, with a fanbase comes fan edits. You know this. As narcissistic as it may be, you watch a few of the ones that make you look like a badass when you need an ego boost. You rarely watch, however, the thirst ones. Of yourself at least, Joost is a different story. But here you were, watching a spliced video of you at an event where you decided to wear a particularly revealing outfit. You giggled like a child a bit at the thought that Joost saw it, watched it, but then your eyes drifted to the bottom left corner of the screen. 

“Joost reposted”

You inhaled sharply. Has anyone besides your friends noticed? You ran to the comment section to see. Accidentally doing yourself in, you read the top comment.

Joost: smash

[Liked by creator]

You stared frozen at the screen for a moment before bursting into uncontrollable laughter. You could be pissed at him, really you could. You could shoot him a text right now about the logistics of how to go about this and such– or you could take it as a challenge. You bit your lip and reopened your messages.

You: oooh u wanna play this game?

You were happy to see the text bubble pop up within the minute.

Joost: if you up me i will up you two times ᕙ(  •̀ ᗜ •́  )ᕗ

Alright, bet. You had envisioned soft launching him more times than you could count, so opening Instagram and making a story was almost muscle memory. You inserted a photo of him and the comically oversized stuffed bears he got you for your first anniversary and began cropping. It ended up only being two bears with Joost’s legs and arm in the photo but still– his tattoo was visible. If you knew what to look for, you knew. And now, people were looking. You added the Beatles “Here Comes the Sun” in the back and hit post to the story.

Five minutes later:

Joost: oke so we’re doing this 

An additional five minutes later:

Joost: check tiktok

Tikok? Okay. Chances are, he was not lying about upping you. You opened the app immediately, as excited as a child opening Christmas gifts. You watched his latest video, eyes glued to the screen. It’s old, probably taken two or three years ago, and it starts with Joost's face filling the entire screen. His expression blank, he slowly pans the camera out and up as a remix of ZIPLOC by Tyler the Creator and 4:44 by Jay-Z played, revealing his head on your lower stomach and your thighs resting over his shoulders. You gasped as the camera pans to show your face, and video-you proceed to stick your tongue out playfully and snake your hand into his hair to give him a playful ruffle. His face erupts in glee, and the video replays.

He’d fucking done it. Both of your faces were fully in that, fully visible!  There was no way anyone could mistake you as anything but his, and him as anyone but yours. You rolled around in bed, overflowing from happiness, before sitting straight up and snatching back your phone. Sure this was cute, but you couldn’t let him win. Okay, time to reopen Instagram. A main post to a platform with double digit million followers oughta do the trick! You selected a recent photo of the two of you. You’d taken it on a digital camera, on the couch of a friend's apartment during a get together. You have one wired earbud in your left ear, and Joost has the other in his right. Joost is dead asleep, his head resting on your shoulder, eyes peacefully shut. Your head is resting on his, your face smiling sweetly into the camera. You shakily copy and paste “oke so we’re doing this” and let out a small chuckle before hitting post and instantly chucking your phone across the room.

The nerves have hit you. This was dumb, so dumb,  and god you’d be lucky if your PR manager didn’t kill you. But also, it cannot be that bad right? Right?

--

It can. Nine long hours have passed since you’ve posted the photo and Joost hasn’t acknowledged it. Didn’t like it, didn’t comment, didn’t reply to your taunting “haha i win” text. Nothing. Radio silence. Your friends have been blowing up your phone but you won’t reply yet. You won’t make any other moves until Joost makes his. 

You stare at your phone screen, waiting for something, anything to happen. Jesus christ, thank FUCK it does. Spotify shockingly sends the notification:

An Artist You Follow Just Dropped!

Joost just dropped an album! Listen now on Spotify.

He did what?? You quickly check his social media and right on his story: an album cover with the text “album three months early. no promotion. i win.”

What. Did. This. Bastard. Do. You run to Spotify, and hit play. The opening track starts to play and… what the fuck? You knew he was experimenting with other music styles. He’d told you about trying to lean more emo on a track, and the sheer amount of My Chemical Romance he played while making it made you feel as though you were back in middle school. But this was so soft, shockingly so for Joost’s recent style. And then there are the lyrics. It was very Paul Mccartney-esque, with two characters' love story being told over the course of the song. While Lelie and… Grug’s tale was incredibly over the top and dramatic, the chorus was very different. The way Grug spoke about Lelie was poetic and gentle, true love pouring from every word. You listen in shock because, this… this was the Joost you got on Saturday mornings, sappy and sweet. You click on the song see the title: lfde

You let out a noise of pure shock and glee right as you hear the door to your apartment slam. “I win! I win ! I win, I win, I win!” Joost chants, and you leap up to meet him. 

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

a/n: ADDING THIS PART A MONTH AFTER POST WHOOPS THIS IS THE TIKTOJ TREND I WAS REFFERING TO fully wrote this with reader being an f1 driver in mind. just thought id share. also forgive me for bad grammar / punctuation or anything of the sort english is not my first language LOL. i also ihave another version of this that ends differently so if anyone wants that lmk!! n i take requests :P

[botboots]

Saw that your requests were open so what about TFP cons with an adorkable teen human reader? A really close friend (the emotional support bundle of joy™) that is really artistic, kind, understanding and just a pure cinnamon roll, what would be the bots reaction to the lil' human? Optimus, Ratchet,Bulkhead, Arcee, BB, and if you do the kids then the kids. If not the other bots, stay safe!

im back!! so sorry for the long ass wait, had so much going on in my life recently (graduating, going back home, etc.) but hopefully i'll be back to posting somewhat regularly! tysm for the continuous support :] love seeing the notifs pop up every day this is one of the first asks in my inbox (and i completely forgot that the prompt said reader was part of the cons... whoops) and i've wanted to get it done for a while now! have so many more to get through but will get them done eventually - this isn't the best but its cute <3 and you can 100% tell who my favs are lmao warnings: none word count: 939 (GN reader)

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

Optimus:

he finds your outlook on things is a nice change of pace compared to the more pessimistic views that some members of the team can have at times

values your compassion greatly, often turning to you as a confidant over the time you’ve gotten to know each other. a mission went wrong and he’s putting all the blame on himself? you’re there to reassure him in a heartbeat, reminding him that he did his best and there’s always another chance; you keep him grounded

has an innate interest in art and writing - he used to be an archivist, after all

so he enjoys watching you indulge in your hobby, your excitement about it reminds him of his younger years of being a clerk at iacon when he would become giddy over a newfound archaic text

he’s very fond of you and makes sure you know it, taking note of the small things you like and getting you whatever little gift he can manage to find - genuinely thinks you’re cute and likes seeing you happy :] 

Ratchet:

while it may have taken him a little longer than the others to warm up to you fully, he grew to start looking forward to your company (despite his his best efforts to hide it)

he appreciates your quiet company; you’re much less rambunctious than both the other humans and his own team - you complain a lot less too, probably one of his favorite qualities about you

like optimus, your bubbly attitude gives him a much needed break from the dreary duties that come with being the autobot medic

you often find yourselves working in tandem, with you sitting on the couch working on your newest project while he stands at his terminal typing away. occasionally you’ll walk over with a nervous smile, and with a roll of his optics he’ll lower a servo for you to climb into and lift you up onto the corner of the console, huffing when you chirp a thank you before the both of you quietly return to your tasks (he enjoys it, really)

while he’s not one to vent his frustrations to you, he’ll always be open to listen to you vent about yours. even if he doesn’t respond with much, he’ll offer logical solutions and observations for whatever issue you’re having

Bulkhead:

the big guy loves art, having been exposed to his fair share of it by miko, and is very encouraging when it comes to your projects

he might not get some of the nuances or meanings of the things you make, but he tries - oftentimes making you laugh a bit at the sheer amount he misses. it’s endearing though, and you appreciate the effort

too fidgety to sit and watch you do anything for too long, but he’ll offer to drive you to a vista for some inspiration while he does his usual scouting routes, miko tagging along of course. she’ll probably bring her sketchbook with her and sit next to you and draw, chattering the entire time while blasting some music from her ipod, offering you one of her earbuds

Arcee:

similar to ratchet she takes a while to get used to you, a little cold at first to your attempts at friendliness

she notices how happy you seem to make everyone else and eventually makes a legitimate pass at being friendly despite how awkward it feels

but with how eagerly you accept it she doesn’t feel as bad, sighing in relief as you immediately start filling her in on how much you’ve enjoyed your time with the autobots

she’s not much of a conversationalist (especially when it comes to humans) so your chattiness is almost a relief - not having to keep up fake interest and energy with someone puts her in a more comfortable position; especially since you’re not one to comment on it like others tend to

will sit and watch you work on whatever your newest project is, a comfortable silence shared between the two of you

rambles about random stuff from her past sometimes - you turn out to be one of the few people she trusts enough to mindlessly dump her thoughts to, both good and bad

Bumblebee:

one of the first to get to know you, overly excited about having a fresh face around

super curious when he sees you working on something, a barrage of questions translated from mechanical chirps and whirrs with the help (and annoyance) of ratchet

he’ll actually try and mimic some of your art on the walls of hidden ditches where he and rafael hang out, excitedly bringing you along to show off his latest work and buzzing happily when you praise it

will eventually, with your encouragement, try and make something original - he ends up finding it pretty soothing and an easier way to feel understood; communicating his feelings without words can be unsurprisingly helpful for someone who can’t use any of his own

you’ll spend hours hanging out and working on your stuff - he likes when you help him with his own art, adding your own brushstrokes to the concrete wall

he’ll let you sit up on his shoulder just to watch him make whatever he feels like making, or even just taking you on joyrides in the desert where he doesnt need to worry about anything going wrong

while it’s usually you, him and raf hanging out he does enjoy spending solo time with you - usually in silence or one-sided conversations, but you understand each other well enough without words

will also figure out what your favorite songs are and surprise you with them; he loves when you get all giddy about literally anything

[luveline]

Hi! I remember a while ago you said zombie!au Steve might have a hobby of drawing? Would love to see some of that maybe w r as his muse:D

steve zombie!au fem. 1k

You return to the camp with your new best friend at your side. In matching coats, no less. 

"Christ," Steve says, shaking his head in disgust. 

He loves —loves— that you have a friend, someone who might care about you just as much as he does. You deserve to be loved, and cherished, and known for your worth. You're a human vestibule of sweetness and God knows it wasn't going to be long before someone else noticed. 

But matching coats? "Alright, where's mine?" he asks. 

"Didn't have your size, handsome," Eddie says, giving you a quick and purely amicable hug. "See you later." 

He scampers off to who knows where and you sit down. You don't hide your happy smile, and Steve's glad for it even if it does make him jealous.  "He's so nice," you say. 

"No, he's not." 

"He is. He's almost as nice as you. And he helped me find you something." 

"After he outfitted my girlfriend in a couple's costume. I'm surprised he had the energy." 

"You're so jealous," you say, your happy smile growing in size with the seconds. 

"I'm actually making myself feel sick." 

"I can wear a different coat if it–" 

"Shut up! As long as you like me better, wear what you want." He shakes off his petty jealousy and takes your hand. For once, he's sitting on a towel rather than just grass or dirt, but his efforts to avoid extensive grass stainage mean nothing when your muddy shoe brushes his leg. "Nice. Thanks." 

"Sorry, sorry," you murmur, swinging your backpack off of your shoulder and sighing as you bend into yourself. "Jeez, my back hurts." You breathe out, a low moan of sound that drags. He can feel your pain. (He can't, but he figures that he loves you so much you're now connected spiritually to one another.) "How come I keep going on these expeditions and you keep staying home?" 

"I'm good with the kids." 

"Mm. Maybe you'll come on the next one anyways? I miss you when I'm gone." 

"I miss you too," he says. "More, I'd say." 

You giggle. "Whatever, you always have to be better than me. Shut up! Shut up, I'm trying to give you the things I found for you." 

Steve draws a zipper closed over his lips and flicks away the key. You get into these moods with each other sometimes, perhaps from having spent as much time together as you have, where a faked aggression rises between you. It's almost like you would've spoken at the start of the end of the world, when it was him and you alone, and Steve wasn't in the best of moods. The play fighting soon dies down as you open your bag; receiving gifts is always a pleasure. 

"First, underwear." 

"Thank you," he says, accepting the eight pack of boxers you offer like a man who's crawled the Sahara being given a glass of water. "So much." 

"You're welcome. Socks, a shirt, a new belt, a brace for your knee." You dump it on the towel next to him one by one. Your bag must've been heavy carrying all this, and it keeps going. You've brought him soap, hair elastics, razor blades, chapstick. The community you belong to is heavy on sharing, but you're free to bring home whatever you like so long as you're willing to carry it unaided once you've contributed to the food drive. You've clearly crammed your bag full of stuff for him, unveiling only underwear and socks for yourself. 

"You couldn't find any toothpaste?" he asks. 

You toss a pack of cigarettes at him without force. "Sadly, no. But I think Robin can get us some with those, right?" 

"I wanna smoke these so bad." 

You laugh and shake your head, fondly disapproving. "You don't! We can just kiss more, alleviate your cravings." 

"Weirdo." 

You lean forward, putting your cold hand on his cheek to leverage him closer. "You knew this when you met me," you say, kissing his cheek.

Steve's good on the cravings front after that. He swears that when things are at their worst a kiss from you could keep him going. Your lips can ease the ache of an empty stomach and the shattering heat of his ever-sprained knee.

You pull away gently like you're worried you'll hurt him in your detangling. Honestly, you might. Steve imagines you leaving sometimes like his arm being torn off. 

You reach back into the back for a parcel wrapped in a shirt for protection. The pencils and sketchbook you got Steve are long gone, lost with the rest of your possessions in the middle of a college campus on the Michigan border. Finding things like that is hard, and it hasn't been on Steve's mind. 

Apparently, it's been on yours.

"These are nice ones, right? The pencils?" you ask, having unwrapped your parcel, a soft backed sketchbook and a small metal case of pencils in hand. "There's only twelve, but I even found a sharpener so you won't have to do it with your knife. Sorry there's no black, I know you like the darker details."

Steve flicks through the sketchbook without thinking, every page blank. It isn't very big either, but it's perfect for purpose. 

He sets it aside with the pencils near all your new things and gets on his knees, tugging you in for a hug. "Thank you," he says, and he's said thank you a hundred times to you, but this one feels awkward, clumsy in his mouth. 

"You're welcome. Just promise you'll draw me again." 

"You're the only thing I want to draw." He kisses your cheek in emphasis. "You're the most beautiful thing everywhere we go." 

"That's such a line," you say, sounding melted. 

Easy, he thinks, turning your face to his for a kiss. Soft, as sweet as he can manage. With you, kisses start soft and end too rough, he can't help it. He remembers you're there and his to kiss and it drives him crazy. 

It's a little easier to stop today. Steve is genuinely eager to draw again, and in a week or two there won't be a page in his book without your likeness, his muse. 

[polarisblitzwing]

WELCOME TO THE FRI3NDSFOR3VER AU

Ford's World - Dimension Fri3nds46/’

◇ Alternative Earth Variant ◇

● Humans have wings and feathered tails

● Alternative Pines family decisions timeline

◇ Stanford Pines ◇

● Ford is a minor god of dreams and a self-proclaimed god of anomalies

● 30 years old here (Young Immortal)

● Met Bill when he was 5 due to him attempting an interdimensional dreamwalk link, with Bill trying the same thing by chance, something that wouldn't work at their age without each other

◇ Gods Among Them ◇

● Most gods were mortals whose power was drawn to them like a magnet due to their personality in some way

● Fairly secretive and prefer to hide their works

● Rely on their believers to notice their efforts, resulting in an increase in power

● Can reveal themselves to the public, but building up power from faith alone is more sustainable for less powerful gods

● Stop aging between 25 and 100 (depending on what age someone wants to live forever)

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

Bill's World - For3verEuclydia

◇ Alternative Euclydia Variant ◇

● 360 years is the average lifespan of a Euclydian in this au

● No massacre

◇ Bill Cipher ◇

● Bill is a minor god of dreams and a self-proclaimed god of weirdness

● 30 years old here (Young Immortal)

● Met Ford and Stan when he was 5

◇ Gods Among Them ◇

● Only gods have wings and tails as a power symbol

● Their wings and tails are invisible to anyone that doesn't believe in them specifically

● “Omnipotent” Euclydian gods only know everything about their own world. Bill's knowledge of the third dimension is seen as false teachings to even them.

◇ Bill’s Family ◇

● Scalene is a goddess of Truth and Euclid is a god of Reality

● No one believes Bill is a god except his parents, as godhood is a power grant at birth to someone who the power is drawn to here. It can skip generations.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

NOW, ON TO THE ACTUAL DIALOGUE FOR THIS DRAWING! FANFIC TIME ~

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

Bill: So here's my problem - I need to show them the stars. It gets real flat to hear “you're delusional, Bill” and “stop talking about a third dimension!” “Shh, you're gonna get arrested!” “It's not real!” Over and over again. It's time to change up the law and their perspectives.

Ford: Hmm.. that'll be quite the endeavor. You might need more power for that.

Bill: Ohh-ho-oh, definitely. Some of my ideas get real difficult along the way. The kind of stuff only a god with twice my power could pull off. 

[ Pulls up a holographic board with his first idea. ] 

Bill: If I could turn their eyes towards the stars and give them the same vision as I do, that'd be ideal. 

[ Ford manifests a danger sign over Bill's board; a buzzer sounds in warning. ]

Ford: Doing that to the entirety of Euclydia could potentially be devastating. Even if you get that newfound power, without centuries of diligent practice, you could end up permanently mutilating thousands of people in the process. Too risky. 

Bill: Uuugh… even if the people I wanted to show the most were immortal too, I don't think I could put up with more of their talk for that long. It has to be this century.

Ford: I get where you're coming from. I’ll do my best to make sure it happens when we figure out a plan that won’t have too many risks involved.

Bill: I could probably have the world dream of stars if you help, but that isn’t real enough to me. It drives me crazy that I can’t see you in real life. 

Ford: We’ll meet one day, I promise it. 

Bill: I sure hope so, Sixer. 

[ Pulls up two more holographic charts. ] 

Now.. back to my list of extremely great ideas.. what if I put really tiny stars in the world and contained the heat? Or flipped the world on the y-axis just to prove a third dimension exists first?

[ Ford manifests two more warnings in succession. ]

Ford: Could easily start a fire if anything went wrong, and for all we know, flipping the world vertically could cause everything to fall bottom to top infinitely until it’s fixed. Also runs the risk of killing a lot of Euclydians. Not to mention there could be other forces in your space that could affect the world.

Bill: Yeesh. Alright then, you got any ideas?

Ford: Actually, come to think of it.. 

[ Ford summons a hologram with a vision of his own forming. ]

Maybe instead of dreams, we tried something just a step up from multi-dimensional dream-walking, something like astral projection. We bring them out of their bodies, but tethered to their world, into space. Without the limitations of their physical forms, their eyes should be able to see more than what they could before.

Bill: SIXER, YOU'RE A GENIUS!!!

Ford: Hah, well, I try.  

Bill: NOW THAT'S SOMETHING I COULD ACTUALLY PULL OFF RISK FREE! It might take splitting up the days people get to see it, but, they’ll finally see.

Ford: Well, hold on, splitting up the days could be risky for the groups who see versus who don’t on the first day, so, here's what I'll do. I'll give you my powers for as long as you need them for this. I would like to help personally, but I’d need to physically be there. This will be my contribution to your paradigm shift for Euclydia.

Bill: ..you really trust me that much? 

Ford: (smiles and nods) Of course. You're my best friend, my muse, the sun in my galaxy, Bill. I want you to be happy.

[ Ford offers his hand and godly powers out to his partner. ]

Bill: (chuckles, smiling) You’re the best, Fordsy.

[ They shake on it. ]

[smallratboy]

Catholic Guilt - Abbe du Coulmier x Reader

Chapter 2

The Marquis notices your crush on your best friend, and decided to write a depraved story about you and Abbe

Chapter 1

Masterlist

Despite your conversation with the Marquis, he continues to be a thorn in Abbe's side. He continues to write and publish his obscene fantasies, and Abbe is starting to lose sleep over the issue. 

“He's insufferable,” Abbe sighs after another argument with the Marquis. You walk with him through the halls, having come to bring the Marquis his dinner. 

“No matter what I do, he insists on being depraved and blasphemous!” The priest wrings his hands, the bags under his eyes making him look older and worn. 

You don't know what to do, and it hurts you to see him like this. He's always so kind and full of life, but lately his shine has been waning. The Marquis’ selfishness is hurting everyone, especially Abbe. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You ask, looking worriedly at your friend. He sighs, and offers you a sad smile, shaking his head. 

In a last ditch effort, you open your arms, offering a simple hug. Abbe accepts, stepping into your embrace. Your arms wrap around his warm body, and falls solidly into you. His head rests on your shoulder, his hands drawing you closer to him. He sighs, and a weight seems to lift from his shoulders. 

“Your friendship has always been the greatest help,” He whispers. His scent envelops you, like ink and spices, and his breath fans your neck when he speaks.

Your heart flutters, and you rest your cheek against his hair. You feel immensely guilty for your attraction to him, and do your best to push it down. He is your friend, and he is a priest. Nothing more will come of it, no matter how hard you try. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, pulling away. You nod, smiling. He seems less tired, his usual smile ghosting over his lips. 

You bid each other goodbye, both of you having separate duties to attend to. You have a bit more pep in your step as you walk through the halls, the hug filling your bones with joyful energy. 

“Well, well,” you hear a snide voice call out to you, and your heart sinks. “The little dove is making a move after all.” 

“Spying, Marquis?” you ask, going up to his door. The window was open, presumably so he could catch any interesting activity that might give him inspiration for his writings. 

“Simply observing,” Marquis hums, trying to appear nonchalant. You roll your eyes. “I'm surprised the Abbe hasn't accepted your advances, the sinful little thing that you are. I would have.” 

“There's nothing obscene about comforting your friend,” you snipe. You shudder at the Marquis’ words, anger filling you at his suggestion that you were flirting with Abbe. “I'm not some common harlot, I'm his colleague and companion who's trying to fix your mistake.”

“Oh it was completely intentional, I assure you,” the Marquis drawls. You sigh, and begin to walk away when you hear a soft thud behind you. 

“Oops,” the Marquis says flatly, a smirk on his face. On the floor in front of his door is a small book, a fraction of the size of his first one. On the cover is a black cross, and you know it's full of heinous depravity. 

“What makes you think I won't just burn this?” You ask Marquis, picking up the offending object. 

“You're welcome to burn it,” he says with a shrug. “But if you have any attraction to the Abbe, I think you'll want to take a look.” 

You scoff and walk away, taking the book with you. You didn't look at it, didn't want to give him the satisfaction of your attention. You returned to your quarters and shoved it under your mattress, doing your best to put it out of your mind. 

That night, though, the pages whispered to you from beneath your bed. You tossed and turned, images of sinful pleasure filling your mind and plaguing your dreams. When you woke up with breath heaving and hands shaking from another filthy dream, you knew you had to do something. 

The confession booth is cozy, and you've often found comfort in those walls. Your friend sits warmly on the other side, providing guidance and comfort. 

“What can I help you with today?” Abbe asks softly, leaning his head against the screen. 

“I'm having…feelings towards someone that I shouldn't,” you admit, trying to be as vague as possible. You don't want him to know your crush is on him. “I feel guilty for my feelings, because of religious reasons and personal reasons.” 

“I see,” Abbe replies, pausing to think. “Would it not be best to admit your feelings to this person and seek absolution from them?” 

“I'm worried this person will hate me if I do,” you say, looking at him through the screen. Your heart aches; you want to tell him, need him so bad, but can't have him. 

“I don't think anyone could ever hate you,” he chuckles, his eyes meeting yours through the screen. You're so close to him, if the wooden mesh wasn't in the way you would be touching. 

“Abbe,” you whisper. “I think I'm in love with you.” 

The silence that echoes in the void of your words is deafening, and you immediately wish you could take them back. 

“Oh, Y/N,” Abbe whispers. It hurts, his words hurt, and you can feel the cracks forming in your friendship, your bond breaking and your only friend drifting away from you. 

The silence stretches for what feels like ages, guilt and hurt overwhelming you. Your pain came out in heavy tears that cut tracks down your cheeks, your shame cutting you like a knife. 

“I think you should go,” he says finally. His voice is laced with hurt, and your pain only grows at those words. You leave, hurrying to your room, feeling your world fall down around you.

an: thank you to anyone still reading this! I'm having fun writing it, and the 3rd (and final) chapter will be out soon!

taglist: @darknessisafriend

[a-milgram-sideblog-396]

ART DUMP - While we all cry about life, here’s some Mahirus too cheer us up!

close ups, info, and a poll for your favourite Mahiru under the cut! Pure Vanilla Cookie is also here.

Yes I know I’m not very consistent with her face shape and the size of her features but I’m working on it.

First up, this fancy Mahiru outfit idea by @ispreadrabieslikewildfire that I decided to draw :3. I’ve technically already posted about this one so sorry for notifying this person again whoops. I apologise that this isn’t as detailed as it could be and is also already on top of another drawing.

Then there was this Mahiru in a jumper with shorter hair, inspired by a meme redraw by @lobotami :3 (I enjoy how the two people tagged in this post both have concerning usernames). Many ideas sprouted. I first thought about Mahiru in a jumper and a short skirt and long socks, a bit like Muu’s school uniform.

Then I pictured other lengths of socks, and if they’d have patterns or stripes, or maybe mismatching. I just left them blank here so they can be up for interpretation. Then I pictured different skirt lengths and if the crop of the jumper changed to for that or not, and how that’d change the shillouette, and then I thought about if her normal cardigan were cropped. And then if the jumper were sleeveless, and what the sleeves of her dress would look like, if any. I didn’t think of different boot lengths but I suppose I should’ve. You can see some of my ideas around here but they didn’t get very varied on paper. Anyway this one is closest to the original drawing I was inspired by and I made her hair longer TGEN I wanted to in the one before so keeping it shorter was the focus of my next few. I think I accidentally made her a little chubby in this one, which I’m not against, or maybe she has lots of layers on. Yes I know that hand isn’t very good, none of these are really, but I like talking about Mahiru.

My new headcannon for Mahiru is that everything she wears is just some variation of one of the outfits in ai nan desu yo + her t3 sprite. Like she’s got lots of different clothes but they’re all kinda just the same fabrics and of the same colour but used in different ways if that makes sense. Because thinking about this is fun.

I like how this one is looking up, inspired by the smaller version of herself with bell bottom trousers. That came from the idea or her having these flowy sleeves like mini skirts on her arms, and as you’ll see I started thinking about her in trousers instead next, but I still wanted to capture that summery femininity here ig.

I’ve also thought about drawing the pattern on her skirt as blue with a white cloud pattern like the sky. And to take a more dreamcore or kidcore approach, put her in some saturated setting. Idk. I think most settings would be improved by the presence of Shiina Mahiru Milgram. Like when her 2025 birthday art was revealed I had the idea that someone could use a TV static pattern as the gloves and the top bit of her skirt I think. Anyway.

I also recently found out that the strange Eve character who keeps popping up, previous known as Damn-kun, has been officially named Mahiru. So I had to draw them together. This Mahiru came from the idea of having Mahiru in trousers again. When I started it my intention was to make a sort of handsome Shiina Mahiru but that’s not what happened in the end. I shall try again with a handsome Shiina Mahiru another time. Damn-kun Mahiru is less handsome-able to me, at least if I’m the one drawing him.

I only noticed I draw both of them with a triangle nose when I drew them together here. Personally I dislike her :3 mouth idk how that happened. I wish I had put more effort into the texture of the jumper each time. And stayed consistent with her eyes. I think my style is regressing. Anyway I like to think this Mahiru has something like the pattern from her dress on her jumper and then her trousers are like formal straight suit ones but are the same purple has her cardigan.

Also here’s Pure Vanillia Cookie if you even care

included because the cookie run children (fandom) are still at large so they might give me a few more delicious tumblr notes >:)

remember, I don’t want this to be comparing people, but two of these are designed by people who aren’t me so I’m sorry if having a poll makes the creators upset I’ll remove it if so but I’m pretty sure it’ll be alright-

imagine if pvc wins (he’s not a mahiru)

[dopecollectorbarbarian]

Beldaruit

Nsfw?

Size: small

Note: I have noticed there are two or one works about Beldaruit and it broke my heart. So shamelessly I wrote about him.

Mix~

Our great teacher is definitely smart, definitely creative, definitely hot imposant man.

But he becomes even more impressive when he is using his armchair, it’s true. First of all, it has features of an deer, second… it makes his actual eyes level really high. Children and even some adults need to raise their heads to be able to see his face.

And maybe, just maybe… when he likes to imagine himself from other’s perspective. How is it? Does he fix himself in others’ mind? How does he look? And… during these little wondering experiments, his ears used to turn little pink.

He knows that he has quite a personality. But when he was younger, his thoughts drew away with such enthusiasm, that he immediately used to check his hat hiding his pinky ears. Especially when he saw a person that he liked and he tried to put object of sympathy’s shoes… oh oh-oh! He felt bashful.

Sometimes his thoughts get another way. He has a great imagination, an unique way of thinking. What if the object of love picked him out of chair? Bed? Stole him? Like the princess are stolen by dragons/knights in these books…?

Actually I don’t mind being picked up now too…

He can’t help giggling, stealing looks around to check if someone hears him and his thoughts.

~~<>~~><><><~~<>~~><><><~~<>~~><><><~~

His mind is always restless.

Huge imagination can be a bless and a curse. Huge potential in weak body - a torture.

Especially when he reads spicy books.

He “ran” into one of such books for very first time when he was somewhat sixteen. The windows can hide a lot and his curiosity is bottomless, when he noticed a thin, maybe too thin journal hidden under a windowsill. Actually even he slipped out of the chair, his fault - he tried to take a little too better look to see it and take that. It took time…

He opened it without second thought and saw very… actually very unprofessional drawing of two lovers having fun under a silverwood tree.

But it was the start.

Addiction, that fed his imagination in new, unexplored way.

He knew the general conception of sex, he had read some medical books but… in that way?! Pose 69?

Ho-ho-ho!

Maybe the only thing that prevented him from active efforts to have real experience is his passion to magic. It’s stable, sustained. As his trust to it. Also… Not all people are into people like him.

Less people think if he ever can feel something.

So his very first time to play… some scenes from the books ended quickly but he felt content.

By now he has got the big collection of the genre. Sorted by the way. He doesn’t read much of them, he prefers more romantic books.

<><><><>…<><><><>

He knows children and teenagers too well. The first ones may ask him about reproduction, how babies appear and what these things are:

For toddlers:

You see, my dear, babies appear when a man and a woman love each other so deeply that they want to shape their love into someone else… they do very special adult ritual - only adults can do so! And then babies appear in mommy’s belly.

For children:

There are different parts of body as you could have noticed already! Boys have their feature lower the waist, girls too. It’s very private parts so darling no one shall touch you there… so men have seeds, women have earth…

(If to think about that, Beldaruit is the social worker within hat world)

But teenagers?

So sometimes he hides horny/smut books there and here the books for teenagers to find without problem but difficult for adults. Some books are in the book club library, some are in different parts of the castle and town.

Why?

As it was already said his collection is sorted mercilessly by his own expertise - no low quality books that misshape young brains about sex and this whole process. It’s better when there are proven copies. He knows that teenagers may not think of going to talk with him about that topic (sometimes some of them actually do so after book club meetings and he appreciates that they overcome shyness) and he wants to make sure that others satisfy their curiosity without problems.

He remembers himself when he was young.

(Who has already thought about Beldaruit calming girls when their first menstrual period comes? His heart stings when he sees them so terrified!)

By the way…

Someone doesn’t appreciate that kind of “mischief” and some mature hats who find these copies destroy them. Gods how it makes Beldaruir feel frustrated! He needs to make a copy once more…

~~<>~~><><><~~<>~~><><><~~<>~~><><><~~

About stealing looks… because of health he uses illusions for going outside, we know about that. And when he feels more mischievous and needy than usual, he sends an illusion - a cat or a fish, he is under sea after all - to find his favorite person. Or simply - love interest.

But be sure! Nothing disgusting - he would never cross personal space and peek at them changing clothes… ew!

He just checks on her/him, if they are fine.

And if he is lucky enough, his illusion will petted! It is his favorite moment. To be petted, getting compliments and praise! Aww…

Who is a good kitten? Aww? Who is…?

Me…!

…?

…ow?

I suppose soon or later they will realize that. Till then he enjoyes belly rubs without shame. Or his illusion… was ever he jealous?

~~<>~~><><><~~<>~~><><><~~<>~~><><><~~

Now he is shameless, tranquil, upbeat old hat whose ears don’t turn pink anymore. It’s difficult to make him blush since his sexual need doesn’t demand a lot.

[fckinwild-kiwi]

Dec. 16th: Islands in the Stream

Day 16: Cute Aggression/Spontaneous Dancing

It’s time for day 16 of @comp-lady’s Domestic December writing challenge! Day 15 was a free day and I used it to travel for Christmas so there will be no fic on the 15th. :) The next ten days of stories will be shorter than I have been writing…this is because I’ll be with family and I’ll have less time for writing each day. Forgive me! <3

Warnings: Swearing, *Slight* Allusions to Smut (This is an 18+ blog, minors dni)  Word Counts: 0.7k+ Words Pairings: Eddie Munson x Reader

You had seen a TikTok earlier today of something called the “Beckham Test.” In this video, the woman began playing “Islands in the Stream” by Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers. As the song began to play, she began to dance and you quickly realize that if the man randomly began dancing with her, regardless of his moves, he ‘passed’ the test. You thought about how funny it would be to see Eddie’s reaction to hearing this song, a song that is very clearly not in his wheelhouse. So you set out to try the challenge discreetly, even if he didn’t dance, the challenge was so ridiculous anyway that it would give you both something to laugh about later.

With your mom and Macy still at your grandparents' until dinner, you had music playing all day as to not draw suspicion from Eddie. In preparation, you set your phone up on the window sill above the kitchen sink. As the music started playing, you started to hum and sing along as best as you could after only hearing the song a handful of times on TikTok. 

“What are you doing in here, baby?” Eddie questioned as he came into the kitchen causing you to turn and look at him. 

“Doing dishes and listening to some music,” You answered, as you turned back towards the sink to put your dishes down. This is the moment, you thought to yourself as you turned back to face Eddie while swaying your hips a little to the beat.

In the background you hear, Islands in the stream, that is what you are, there’s no in-between... and Eddie, your ever-confident and lovable boyfriend, grabs your hips and begins to sway with you. You giggled, knowing this reaction would be the one you’d receive but as you both began to lightly sing the lyrics to each other, your eyes grew misty. 

“You passed,” You whispered, breaking the moment as Eddie looked down at you with a soft smile. A second later he noticed your eyes full to tears and his happy expression faded into one of confusion. 

“What, sweetheart?” He questioned, his hands coming up to your face, thumbs swiping underneath your eyes to catch the tears that were beginning to bubble over your waterline. 

“I saw something this weekend on TikTok about knowing the person you’re with is your person based on how they participate in this test,” You began mumbling, looking up into Eddie’s eyes. “I expected you to dance with me but it just made my heart all mushy.”

“Aw, did my girl get too overwhelmed with looooove,” He said, extending the word love in a way that he knew would make you smile and (hopefully) giggle.

“Shut up,” You said, pushing at his chest with no effort as a smile lit up your face.

“I’m glad I passed the test I didn’t know I was taking,” Eddie said, releasing you from his grasp and doing a ballerina spin toward the sink where your phone was sitting. “How about we get this party started, huh?”

“What do you mean?” You asked, stepping towards him as he began typing into your phone. 

“I mean,” Eddie started as you heard the opening chords to the Black Sabbath song, ‘Paranoid.’ “We’re gonna dance, baby, but it is gonna be metal when we do it.”

Giggling, you began to headband while jumping up and down as Eddie pretended to shred on the guitar. Together, you started screaming the lyrics, your bodies jumping up and down with limbs flailing in all directions. You were so distracted that you didn’t hear the front door open and an excited Macy ran into the room.

“Metal dance party,” She screamed, causing you and Eddie to both stop your dancing, startled by the intrusion. 

“Macy Macy, you’re back!” Eddie shouted, grabbing the little girl and swinging her around. 

“Did you guys miss me?” She asked in between squeals.

“So much, sweet girl,” You said, ruffling her hair before walking over to your mom to greet her.

“What’s going on in here, my sweeties?” She questioned, as you pulled away from the hug. 

“Your daughter was afraid I wasn’t actually her person, so we had a dance party and then a metal dance party to prove it,” Eddie said shrugging, Macy still giggling.

“He’s ridiculous,” You argued, rolling your eyes with a smile on your face. Your annoyance was not believable in the slightest.

“Well?” Your mom said, nudging your hip with hers as you both watched the other two dance around. “Did he prove himself as your person?”

“He sure did.”

[falvivi]

How I think the characters that most interact with Seiyoku would draw her.

Laito.

Since he's probably the one who knows almost everything about her, I don't think he would doodle her in only one look. He's obsessed with her stage sona, and thinks her fixation for crosses is quite funny. He genuinely admires the way she performs and her songs (after all, she's addicted to singing about violent sex and obscure topics). So, if Laito ever drew Seiyoku, he sure would draw her in her stage looks.

Shu.

(I wasn't even going to post the painted ver. but i put so much effort in the hair that i felt like showing it).. Anyways, Seiyoku is extremely carefree around Shu, since he's as much lazy as her. She doesn't feel the need to look too pretty, because he doesn't judge her for her appearance. So, she mostly is with her natural looks. About these silly aah words being directed to her- Shu doesn't actually think that, he just likes mocking her sometimes because of her musical taste. He's like "Stop trying to make me listen these obscene songs. I'm not going to fuck you, you pervert.", even though she genuinely just wanted to show him something that sounded splendid. She doesn't even care about the lyrics!

Ayato.

It looks stupid, because it's exactly what she is when she's talking to Ayato. They are best friends, and since Ayato is a boy, Seiyoku can show her pathetically dumb side. When she's with Ayato, she completely doesn't give a fuck about how she should act or look. That said, when it's lunch time she always starts listening to music in a EXTREMELY HIGH volume, so she never understands what people are saying when they talk to her. That's why it's writing "Deaf", since she's always like "Uhh?? Might you repeat please??" "Sorry, I still don't understand." "Hm? What did you say?". Seiyoku being such a dork is the most self insert thing I ever did to her😓😓

Kou.

They for sure aren't close at all, but somehow they still interact a lot. Everytime they talk to each other, Kou teases her and Seiyoku pretends to do not care. Kou hates her, but always watches her performances. He's jealous and is scared of the mere idea of Seiyoku getting more famous than him 😭. He watches her shows to see what she's good at so he can know how she performs and how can he be better than her. So, if he ever drew her, it would probably be Seiyoku's stage sona, but she would look ANNOYING OR GENERIC AS FUCK. He couldn't bring himself to draw her how she actually looks like, since she's just a stupid shallow bitch in his perspective. Btw, her idol band also focus on Kpop sometimes, and Kou prefers watching these less shocking performances (since these are more similar to his group's concept).

Reiji.

SHE'S ALMOST UNRECOGNIZABLE. Maybe because, I hope you already noticed it but depending on the person she's talking to, she completely changes. She wants to be tolerable for everyone, so she avoids being herself around people that might judge her. In Reiji's case, she prefer looking more refined and acting more politely. She always wanted to be his friend, and is afraid of accidentally making him disgusted by her "poor manners" (I mean like, her loafer personality). SOOO, Seiyoku mostly is like his idealized image of a decent woman. You can notice she's even wearing her uniform correctly😓😓. That girl really wants to please him argh! Reiji would end up thinking she's just a delicate smart girl, and would draw her as if she was🕊️🕊️

quick note: I really enjoyed drawing these, and I used it more like a excuse to yap about Seiyoku's relationships with some characters/how her brain works. BUT I HAD TO. SORRY I REALLY WANTED TO YAP ABOUT HER AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[sku-te]

Escape from Elite High School

The humid Tokyo air hung heavy, a perpetual reminder of the gilded cage she found herself in. For Aoi Hasegawa, Class 1-D, Advanced Nurturing High School was less a place of learning and more a meticulously crafted simulation of a dystopian future. She traced the condensation on her water bottle, the coolness a fleeting comfort against the unease that had settled deep in her bones. The uncomfortable parallels to historical regimes, the way the school subtly (and not-so-subtly) manipulated its students, the chilling casualness with which personal freedoms were eroded – it all grated against her sense of self.

Aoi was, by most metrics, average. Her grades were respectable, hovering around the middle of the pack. She excelled in Information Technology and Home Economics, finding a quiet satisfaction in the logic of code and the tangible results of a perfectly baked cake. Geography, ironically, was a consistent thorn in her side, its intricate maps and obscure facts proving stubbornly resistant to her memory. Mathematics, particularly the higher echelons of calculus and advanced theorems, elicited little more than a yawn. Her lack of interest in the abstract, she often mused, was perhaps why the school’s insidious social engineering struck her so profoundly.

Her parents, she knew, would be furious. She could already hear her mother’s disappointed sigh, her father’s stern lecture about throwing away an opportunity. But Aoi also hoped, prayed even, that they would understand. This wasn't about shirking responsibility or avoiding hard work. She was perfectly willing to put in the effort when it truly mattered, but the idea of sacrificing her entire life for a high-powered, soul-crushing career held no appeal. She wanted to enjoy life, to find meaning beyond the rat race, and this school, with its rigid structure and cutthroat environment, felt like a direct assault on that aspiration.

She had witnessed firsthand the dangers of her classmates, their mental machinations and, in some cases, surprisingly vicious physical altercations. The school fostered an environment where trust was a commodity, and friendships were, in her cynical view, merely transactions. Each interaction was weighed, each favor calculated. She had no inherent loyalty to Class 1-D. They were a means to an end, just as she was, perhaps, a means to theirs. Her ultimate goal was clear: escape this gilded cage, leave Tokyo behind, contact her parents, and, after a period of readjustment, find a normal school where learning was about growth, not just survival.

The planning had been meticulous, a silent obsession consuming her every waking moment. It started subtly, innocent inquiries about school regulations, the location of security cameras, the routines of staff. Her aptitude for IT proved invaluable, allowing her to glean information from the school's intranet, often under the guise of "research for a project."

Phase 1: The Information Gathering (Weeks 1-4)

Aoi’s initial focus was on understanding the school's surveillance network. She observed the placement of cameras, noted blind spots, and mentally mapped out the most likely patrol routes of staff. During her IT classes, she subtly explored the school’s network architecture. The firewalls were robust, but like any system, they had potential vulnerabilities. She began to notice patterns in the server maintenance schedule, the times when security logs were most likely to be reviewed, and the typical protocols for data backup.

She also paid close attention to the students. Not just her classmates, but those in other years. Who were the troublemakers? Who were the quiet observers? Who seemed genuinely discontent? She wasn’t looking for allies; she was looking for distractions. A well-timed prank in another class, a minor infraction in a different corridor – anything that could draw attention away from her movements.

Her Home Economics classes became an unexpected asset. The kitchen, with its array of tools and ingredients, offered possibilities. She learned about the properties of various materials, the subtle art of disguise, and the importance of resourcefulness. She began to pack small, non-descript items into a "survival kit" – a sturdy backpack she kept under her bed, ostensibly for weekend trips. This included a basic first-aid kit, some high-energy snacks, a change of dark, nondescript clothing, and a prepaid, unregistered burner phone she had managed to acquire through an online forum before enrolling, a contingency she had always considered given the school's reputation.

Phase 2: The Resource Accumulation (Weeks 5-8)

School points were the lifeblood of ANHS, and Aoi, despite her average standing, was disciplined in her spending. She rarely splurged, preferring to accumulate points. These points were crucial for acquiring items not easily found in the school store – things like a small, powerful flashlight, a lock-picking set (ordered discreetly online and delivered to a locker she "rented" off-campus through a third party, a risky but necessary maneuver), and a detailed map of the surrounding area, focusing on public transportation routes and natural landmarks.

Her “transactions” with classmates became more deliberate. She would offer small favors – help with a difficult assignment (excluding advanced math, of course), a shared snack, or a listening ear – in exchange for information. She learned about the habits of the more observant students, the preferred study spots of various groups, and the general gossip circulating about potential transfers or expulsions. She even subtly encouraged minor conflicts between students she knew were prone to bickering, hoping to create a climate of internal strife that would further divert staff attention.

During this phase, Aoi began her "reconnaissance" outside the school. While students were theoretically restricted to the campus, excursions to the nearby mall or designated recreational areas were permitted. She used these opportunities to map out escape routes, identify potential hiding spots, and observe the patterns of public transportation. She noted the frequency of buses and trains, the locations of less-monitored stations, and the presence of any construction sites or abandoned buildings that could offer temporary shelter.

Phase 3: The Diversionary Tactics (Week 9)

With the end-of-term exams approaching, the atmosphere in Class 1-D was a volatile mix of anxiety and desperate strategizing. Aoi saw this as her window of opportunity. The focus on individual performance and class rankings would create perfect distractions.

Her plan for escape hinged on a carefully orchestrated series of events, designed to trigger a lockdown and subsequent confusion that she could exploit.

The first step involved her IT skills. Aoi had identified a vulnerability in the school’s internal messaging system, used by teachers to communicate with each other and occasionally with students. A seemingly innocuous "system update" file, which she had carefully crafted, would, when opened, subtly corrupt a small but critical portion of the school's timetable database. The corruption wouldn't be immediate or catastrophic, but it would cause minor discrepancies – class cancellations, room changes, and conflicting appointments – that would gradually escalate, creating a bureaucratic nightmare for the staff.

The second step involved her Home Economics knowledge. She intended to create a non-toxic but incredibly pungent odor bomb. Not something that would cause alarm, but something that would be disruptive and require immediate attention. After much experimentation in her dorm room, she settled on a concoction of fermented fruit and a highly concentrated, synthetic durian essence. The smell, she knew, would be unbearable.

The third and final step involved her classmates. Specifically, a few individuals she had identified as easily manipulated or prone to impulsive behavior. She planted rumors, subtly suggesting that certain students were cheating during study sessions, or that others were hoarding valuable school points. These rumors, carefully spread through her "transactional" friendships, were designed to ignite pre-existing tensions and escalate into an open conflict.

The Escape (The Week of Final Exams)

The week of final exams was a maelstrom of stress and ambition. Students were on edge, and teachers were stretched thin.

Monday: The Database Glitch Aoi executed the first phase. During an IT practical, under the guise of working on a group project, she surreptitiously connected a USB drive to a school computer. The "system update" file was uploaded and activated. For the first few hours, nothing seemed amiss. Then, a few teachers started complaining about conflicting schedules. By the afternoon, the administrative office was buzzing with frustrated calls and bewildered staff members. Aoi observed the growing chaos with a sense of grim satisfaction.

Tuesday: The Odor Bomb Her Geography exam was scheduled for Tuesday afternoon. The irony was not lost on her. Before the exam, during a brief break between classes, Aoi slipped into the deserted corridor outside the staff room. With practiced ease, she deployed her odor bomb, a small, sealed container designed to release its contents slowly. Within minutes, the pungent, sickly sweet smell of fermented durian began to waft through the air vents, permeating the staff room and eventually the surrounding classrooms. Teachers erupted in shouts of dismay, students gagged, and the exam was temporarily postponed as staff scrambled to identify the source and ventilate the building. This created an immediate, localized distraction.

Wednesday: The Class 1-D Meltdown The stage was set. The database issues were spiraling into a full-blown administrative crisis, and the residual odor from the bomb kept staff on edge. During lunch break, Aoi subtly amplified the rumors she had planted. She "innocently" asked a gossipy classmate if they had heard about [Student A] supposedly cheating on the practice exam, or if they knew about [Student B]'s suspicious accumulation of private points. The seeds of discord, already sown, began to blossom into open accusations and heated arguments within Class 1-D. The class erupted into a shouting match, drawing the attention of the vigilant Class 1-A and 1-B students nearby, who quickly reported the commotion to their respective teachers.

The escalating chaos within Class 1-D, coupled with the persistent IT issues and the lingering smell, reached a critical point. The school's administration, already overwhelmed, decided on an unprecedented measure: a temporary, localized lockdown of the entire first-year building to restore order and investigate the "unprecedented level of disruption." This was Aoi's cue.

As the lockdown announcement blared through the intercom, instructing all students to return to their classrooms, Aoi feigned panic, blending seamlessly with the rush of students. Instead of heading to her classroom, she veered sharply towards the emergency stairwell, a route she had memorized during her reconnaissance. The emergency exits, usually alarmed and monitored, would likely have their alarms temporarily disabled or their monitoring systems stretched thin due to the school-wide chaos.

She moved with a quiet urgency, her heart pounding but her mind clear. The lock-picking set, carefully concealed in her sleeve, was out in seconds. The emergency door to the outside, a sturdy metal barrier, clicked open with surprising ease. She had practiced this moment hundreds of times in her mind.

Once outside, she didn't run wildly. Instead, she adopted a brisk, purposeful walk, blending in with the few maintenance workers and late-arriving staff members she had observed during her earlier excursions. She navigated the school grounds, using the blind spots she had identified. The security cameras were certainly operational, but with the internal chaos, monitoring would be reactive, not proactive. They wouldn't be looking for a single student quietly slipping away, not when the entire first-year building was in an uproar.

She reached the perimeter fence, a seemingly insurmountable barrier. However, during her initial reconnaissance, she had noticed a section near the back of the campus, close to a rarely used service road, where a large, overgrown bush offered a natural screen. Beneath it, a small section of the fence, likely damaged by a previous storm and subtly widened over time by animal activity, offered a narrow passage. She squeezed through, tearing her uniform slightly, but barely noticing.

She was out.

The bustling streets of Tokyo were a stark contrast to the sterile, controlled environment of ANHS. Aoi pulled a dark hoodie from her backpack, discarding her school blazer into a nearby public waste bin. She hailed a taxi, giving a general direction towards a major train station, not directly her target station. Inside, she checked her burner phone. No messages, no calls. It was still dormant.

At the train station, she purchased a ticket to a regional hub city, far outside Tokyo, using cash she had accumulated from her points. She chose a destination that was not her hometown, another layer of misdirection. On the train, she removed her remaining school uniform items, replacing them with the plain, dark clothes from her backpack. She stashed the uniform deep within a public locker at the train station, paying for several days' rental.

She arrived in the regional city late at night. Instead of checking into a hotel, she sought out a 24-hour internet café, a relic of a bygone era, but perfect for her needs. There, she cautiously accessed the internet, using a VPN and multiple layers of anonymizing software. Her first priority was to send a carefully worded, anonymous email to her parents, stating only that she was safe, that she had left the school, and that she would contact them again when it was truly safe to do so. She provided no location, no details, only reassurance that she was well. She knew the risk of them contacting the school, but she also knew they would worry. This was a calculated gamble, hoping their initial concern would be for her safety, overriding their immediate anger.

She spent the next few days in a state of hyper-vigilance, moving between different internet cafes, public libraries, and even a few all-night diners. She rationed her food, slept in short bursts on park benches or in cheap, hourly rental rooms. Her focus was on two things: monitoring news about ANHS and researching how to disappear from the digital footprint the school would undoubtedly try to track.

She followed online forums and local news. The initial reports about ANHS focused on the "unprecedented disruptions" and the "investigation into student misconduct." There was no mention of an escape. This was good. It meant the school was trying to contain the information, to prevent panic or further breaches. She knew, however, that her absence would eventually be noted.

Repercussions Inside ANHS (Immediate to Weeks Post-Escape)

The fallout within ANHS would be swift and severe.

Immediate Lockdown and Investigation: Once Aoi's absence was definitively confirmed, likely within hours of her actual escape (as teachers would notice her missing from exams or dorm checks), the school would go into a full, high-level lockdown. Every student would be accounted for, every corner of the campus searched. The initial "disruptions" would be retroactively identified as a deliberate, coordinated effort.

Class 1-D Scrutiny: Class 1-D would bear the brunt of the school's wrath. They were already under suspicion due to the internal conflict. Now, with a student from their class having successfully escaped, they would be seen as a security risk, a class that failed to maintain order and discipline.

Point Reduction and Sanctions: Expect a massive collective point reduction for Class 1-D. This wouldn't be a minor penalty; it would be crippling, likely reducing their private points to near zero, if not negative, for the foreseeable future. Individual students identified as having contributed to the "disruptions" (even unknowingly) would face severe individual sanctions, including potential expulsion for minor infractions that would normally be overlooked.

Increased Surveillance: The school would significantly ramp up surveillance. More cameras, stricter patrol routes, random bag checks, and more frequent dorm inspections. The atmosphere would become even more stifling and oppressive.

Psychological Warfare: The school would undoubtedly use Aoi's escape as a cautionary tale. They might imply that she was captured, that her life outside was miserable, or that her parents were deeply disappointed. They would use her as a deterrent, to break the will of any other student contemplating similar actions.

Damage to Class D's Reputation: Class 1-D's reputation would plummet. Other classes, especially A and B, would look down on them with even greater disdain, seeing them as incompetent and a liability. This would make any future cooperation or negotiation with other classes almost impossible, further isolating Class 1-D.

Internal Blame Game: The class itself would descend into a vicious blame game. Fingers would be pointed, accusations would fly. The fragile alliances would shatter, and internal cohesion would be destroyed. Some students might even try to curry favor with the school by reporting on their classmates, creating an atmosphere of intense paranoia.

Teacher Repercussions: The teachers responsible for Class 1-D and the first-year building security would face severe reprimands, potentially even demotion or dismissal. This would make them even more strict and unforgiving towards the remaining students.

Repercussions Outside ANHS (Weeks to Months Post-Escape)

The school, a powerful and influential entity, would not take Aoi's escape lightly. It was a direct challenge to their authority and a threat to their carefully constructed reputation.

Cover-Up and Disinformation: ANHS would activate its extensive network to control the narrative. They would issue statements about a "student transfer" or a "voluntary withdrawal for personal reasons" if any inquiries were made about Aoi. They would leverage their influence with media outlets to suppress any legitimate reporting of an escape.

Active Search and Recovery: While publicly denying the escape, the school would initiate a discreet but intensive search. They have considerable resources, including private investigators and connections within law enforcement. They would track her digital footprint, contact her parents (feigning concern), and monitor her previous hangouts.

Pressure on Parents: Aoi's parents would almost certainly be contacted by the school. ANHS would likely portray her as unstable, ungrateful, or even mentally unwell, attempting to convince her parents to cooperate in her "safe return." They might imply that her future prospects would be ruined if she didn't return, or even subtly threaten their careers or social standing. This would put immense pressure on her parents, a burden Aoi was acutely aware she was placing upon them.

Blacklisting: If Aoi was apprehended, the school would likely expel her and ensure she was blacklisted from any other reputable educational institution. Her academic record would be permanently marred. Even if she wasn't caught, the school's reach meant that her name could be flagged in certain educational databases, making it difficult for her to enroll elsewhere without careful planning.

Legal Ramifications: While direct legal charges against a minor for escaping school might be difficult to pursue in public, the school could pursue civil action against her or her parents for breach of contract, damages to property (the uniform she discarded), or the "disruption" she caused. This would be a psychological tactic, designed to wear down her and her family.

Security Vulnerability Review: The school would undergo a massive security review. The vulnerabilities Aoi exploited would be patched, and new, more stringent security measures would be put in place, making future escape attempts exponentially harder. This would, ironically, make the school even more of a prison for those left behind.

Aoi's Path Forward (Months Post-Escape)

Aoi knew the escape was only the first hurdle. Survival outside was a different challenge entirely.

Her initial strategy was to remain mobile and anonymous. She continued to move between cities, always taking public transport, never staying in one place for too long. She lived frugally, relying on the cash she had saved and occasional odd jobs she could pick up discreetly – data entry work, simple graphic design, anything that could be done remotely and paid in cash. Her IT skills were invaluable here.

She knew her parents would be worried sick. After a month of no contact, she sent a second, slightly more detailed email, still anonymous, but confirming her safety and hinting at her location (a general region, not a specific city). She expressed her regrets for the distress she caused but reaffirmed her decision to leave. She asked them to trust her, to wait for her to make the next move.

She spent months diligently building a new identity. This was the hardest part. She researched how to acquire fake documents, how to blend into society, how to exist without leaving a digital trace. She learned to speak with a different accent, to change her appearance, to adopt new mannerisms. It was exhausting, a constant performance, but the alternative was far worse.

Her ultimate aim was to enroll in a normal school. This required a legitimate identity. She couldn’t use her own, as it would be flagged. She explored various avenues, eventually finding a small, independent education consultant who specialized in helping students with "unconventional" backgrounds. Through them, and with a significant portion of her remaining cash, she began the painstaking process of acquiring a new, clean identity – a fabricated history, a new birth certificate, and a new set of school records. It was morally ambiguous, but for Aoi, it was a necessary evil.

She chose a small, relatively obscure public high school in a different prefecture, far from Tokyo, a place where she could blend in, where the focus was on education, not manipulation. She was acutely aware of the risks involved. The school's network of influence was vast. But she also knew that the longer she waited, the harder it would be to rejoin normal society.

The day she received her acceptance letter from the new school, under her new name, was a moment of quiet triumph. It wasn't the prestigious academy her parents had envisioned, but it was a chance at a normal life.

Her first day at the new school was mundane, and she cherished it. The classes were straightforward, the teachers approachable, the students… normal. They gossiped about pop stars, worried about test scores, and formed friendships based on shared interests, not calculated transactions.

She eventually contacted her parents, this time by phone, using her new, unregistered number. It was an emotional call. There was anger, yes, but beneath it, overwhelming relief and a grudging respect for her determination. She explained her reasons, the uncomfortable parallels she saw in ANHS, her desire for a different life. They didn’t fully understand, but they listened. They promised to help her, to provide support from afar, to keep her secret safe. They wouldn't come for her immediately, as she instructed, to avoid any ANHS surveillance, but they began to make plans for a future reunion, a gradual reintroduction into their lives.

Aoi Hasegawa was gone. In her place was a new girl, with a new name, a new past, and a quiet determination to forge a future on her own terms. The scars of ANHS would remain, a constant reminder of the dangers she had faced, but also of the strength she had found within herself. She was no longer a pawn in someone else's game; she was the architect of her own destiny, navigating a world that was still dangerous, but also, finally, free.

[azrail-emer]

if you don’t mind me asking, why do you sign off your posts?

Woo, interesting question. Well, not really a big thing other than preference! I guess there’s a small(?) reason why.

A thing many irl people know about me is that my signature is unique. Like, unique unique. I like how my name (or nickname) looks when I write it. I’ll literally sign my last name as a star. It will look like a star when I sign it.

This is mainly because I used to write in cursive. I learned it when I was younger and liked how each letter look “cool”. As I started aging, I grew lazy and began sloppy writing. However, that cursive still stayed in my writing.

But it’s horrible. 😭 My handwriting looks as if cursive and chicken scratch had a baby, but the chicken scratch won with 90%. 💀 Sadly though, cursive is not really being taught anymore. Pretty much all of my classmates can’t write in cursive, much less read it! Yet they know I can read and write it, but I don’t care to do it neatly. I’m also a bit rusty.

My parents are kind of pissed I don’t put effort into my signature especially when I’m an artist—💀 I just avoid the topic.

That’s mainly why I sign off on everything. I mean, I could write it and attach the image, but that’s also kind of tiring. I prefer saving my energy for drawing! When I take longer to do something, I lose motivation. That’s just how I work. So if I spend too long on the “perfect” signature, I won’t care about it anymore. Why do you think I always tag myself deserving golden kiwis?

I like golden kiwis and, a bit arrogantly, think I deserve them. I’d gladly take a kiwi as an award. Facts. I took my time and effort and motivation to do stuff. The least I could get is a thank you and a kiwi, yes? But you may have noticed I also sometimes refer to myself in third person. There’s no reason behind that other than I do it randomly. I don’t remember what the word is called, but I know it ends with “ism” or something. Have to look it up.

Woah! This was kind of long but at least I explained. That was quite the question! I didn’t have an answer at first until I thought about it. There’s times I won’t sign off but I try to do it every time!

-Azz

Extra: Do not ask me to read those doctor signatures. That is another BREED of cursive at this point.

[hiraethwrote]

i've only ever wanted you

summary: you can blame the alcohol for your reaction, but hey... what's yours is yours, right?

[ loner!megumi x popular!reader ]

cw: college au, f!reader, sorority!reader, aged up characters, drinking, intoxication, arguing, emotions running high, jumping to conclusions, jealousy, kinda angsty, eventually comfort, no use of y/n

word count: 3.2k

“I look ridiculous.”

“Stop that! You look hot,” you shouted through the bathroom door.

His displeased expression stared back at him from the mirror, observing every detail of the costume you’d put him in.

He’d been so focused on being a good boyfriend, actually accepting your invitation to one of your parties because it was supposed to be the party of the year. And as newly elected president of your sorority, you’d stood for all the planning and decorating.

What he had completely forgotten to take into consideration when he said he’d come was the fact that it was a Halloween party, meaning costumes, something that was way out of his comfort zone.

You, however, had already planned matching Halloween costumes before you even knew if he was coming or not.

That being said, you knew he’d never go along with anything that would draw too much attention to him. So all things considered, the costume you’d put together for him was the bare minimum in terms of dressing up — didn’t make him feel any less stupid when he looked at himself in the mirror.

A few weeks back, you’d spotted the ruffled collar of a white, linen shirt in the window of a thrift store downtown. Without thinking, you had sprung through the door and handed the cashier the money.

Next thing Megumi knew, he was feeling incredibly exposed while the tiniest sliver of his chest was on display and his usually messy hair was tied down by a red handkerchief around his head. As low effort as it was, one could clearly tell it was a pirate he was supposed to be.

“God knows why I agreed to this,” he mumbled to himself, fidgeting with his sleeves, the nerves building up by the second.

“I will not hear another negative word about your costume come out of your mouth for the rest of the evening,” you sighed as you exited the bathroom.

“Can’t make any prom-“

The sentence was abruptly cut short when he spun around to give you an answer, only to end up like a deer caught in headlights.

Now, Megumi had always thought of you to be absolutely breathtaking in every sense of the word. But when you came out that door all dolled up for the evening, looking a lot more like a pirate than he did, the lump was instantly created in his throat as his palms started to turn clammy.

It was different, for sure. With leather pants, a black and red corset tied tightly over a cream coloured blouse with puffy sleeves, a red fabric draped over your hips and a handkerchief tied over your head to match his, Megumi was only reminded of how incredibly out of his league he thought you were.

“You look-“ he cut himself off to clear his throat when it came out embarrassingly high pitched. “You look great.” The modest blush crept up on his cheeks, and as much as he wished you didn’t notice, he wasn’t so lucky. The scrunch of your nose and the bounce in your step as you scattered over to him told him so, as you placed a hand on each side of his face and squeezed his cheeks.

“Love it when I make you blush,” you teased. While he rolled his eyes, pulling out of your tender grip, he tried to find back to his previous stature — the one where you didn’t have him flustered by simply existing within his vicinity while looking so good it should be illegal.

“I bet you do,” he mumbled shyly.

You quickly landed a light peck on his lips that were withdrawn into a line. “Thank you for coming tonight.”

“‘S no problem,” he said, his statement bordering on a lie. The stress was slowly building up inside him at the thought of spending the evening with this crowd that had rarely done their due diligence to make him feel welcome. But he’d seen how hard you’d worked and how much it meant to you, it was only right he swallowed his insecurities to support you.

His shoulders were visibly tense, having you try to rub the worst of it out while shooting him a compassionate smirk. “Come on, let’s get you a drink to loosen up,” you placed another small peck on his cheek before hurrying down to the kitchen, clutching Megumi’s hand tight in your own.

The small ball he threw hit the last cup standing on the other side of the table, causing you to squeal in unmatched excitement, launching yourself at him in a bone crushing embrace. It was hard, even for him, not to actually let out a small chuckle when you were so publicly proud of him.

“I didn’t know you were so good at beer pong,” you said once he released his arms around you.

“Neither did I,” he said only so you could hear him.

“Well, I’m going to get another drink, you want one?”

“Sure, why not?” The drunk smile instantly spread across your face before placing a wet kiss on his cheek and scurrying away.

Against all odds, Megumi was actually enjoying himself a little more than he usually did at these things. It probably had everything to do with the fact that you had stayed at his side for most of the evening, because he instantly fell into his reclusive habits the second you were out of sight.

Standing by the table, he let his eyes travel the room, looking at all the different people scattered about, drunk out of their mind — while he stood awkwardly in the same spot you left him in.

In the past, he rarely minded being on his own, he preferred it even. But after you came into his life, he had come to appreciate the company of others… well, that was probably a stretch. He appreciated the company of you, and that was about it.

“Hey,” a soft voice caught his attention as a gentle hand was placed on his shoulder to turn him around. “Great beer pong play!” The girl standing in front of him, sporting a genuine smile, had been on the opposing team when playing.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, hand clutching tighter onto his nearly empty cup.

“It’s Megumi, right?”

“Mhmm,” he nodded with a withdrawn smile.

“I’m Mio,” she leaned in to tell him so he could hear over the music. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he mumbled politely, eyes continuing to dart around the room in hopes he’d spot you turn the corner to join him again, but all he saw was a sea of unfamiliar faces.

He didn’t get to look for long until her voice captured his attention again. “You’re not really the party guy, are you?”

“Is it that obvious?” He scoffed.

“Well, sort of, but I can’t remember seeing you all that much.”

“Oh,” he hesitated. “Yeah, not really my scene.”

She swiftly jumped up on the table beside them, swirling her red solo cup, newly filled with some drink that smelled awfully sugary. “I like your costume.”

He instinctively narrowed his eyebrows as he glanced down at what was essentially just a white shirt with some extra details added to it. Megumi was just a cautions person by nature, and though he rarely had any ill intent behind his cold front, he just liked to keep strangers at an arm’s length.

But maybe this Mio wasn’t a bad person, and was simply keeping him company while he was all in his lonesome.

“Thanks. Yours is cool too,” he shrugged casually, looking at her costume of what he thought was supposed to be a cat, hoping and praying you were to rejoin him again soon. She grinned wildly at the comment, balance swaying a little by the alcohol in her system.

You, at the other side of the living room, were blissfully unaware of the scene that took place not too far from you.

On your excursion to get more to drink for you and Megumi, you’d been hauled in my a few of your sorority sisters for group tequilas — to which you couldn’t say no. That’s when they came with the very convincing argument of ‘one tequila is never enough’. So one tequila quickly turned into two, slamming the glass against the counter before biting into the lime slice.

The drunken giggle on your lips was wiped away when one of your girlfriends pointed out the scene you’d been missing out on.

“She’s at it again,” she said into your ear as you both stared at them while Mio accidentally stumbled down from the table she was sitting on, just to latch one hand onto his forearm and the other rest on his chest for support.

And though Megumi’s reaction was probably one simply out of politeness, it didn’t stop you from seeing red when a small smile was formed in his lips at whatever words left Mio’s mouth.

Why had he suddenly decided to turn so sociable?

The drinks you were supposed to fetch was long forgotten, as you stormed over to the two of them, not hesitating to wedge yourself between them with glee.

“Mio, you better take a step back!” You bit as she quickly retreated her clawy hands to herself.

The way she sung your name sent a cold shiver down your spine, as if you were friends. If there was one girl in this sorority you were willing to throw to the dogs, it was her.

Ever since moving into the house, you and Mio had been at each others throats — for good reason, you thought. Both being individuals with immensely strong personalities, you were doomed to butt heads. Neither of you even tried to keep your mouth shut when the other did something that infuriated the other.

For the most part, your relationship consisted of petty spitting matches — until you managed to snatch the title of president of the sorority, which quickly escalated the ongoing feud.

If there were an opportunity for her to come for you, she would definitely take it. So when you saw her even come close to your boyfriend, after having garnered a small reputation of a home-wrecker, there was no way you were letting her off easy.

“I’m only keeping the nice pirate company.”

Her sweet tone had you grind your teeth together, Megumi noticing how your nails were digging into the palms of your hands. “Yeah, and your service isn’t needed anymore.”

“I’m sure Megumi doesn’t mind. We were having a lovely conversation-“

“I don’t really care,” you cut her off, raising your voice, disguising your anger in feigned sincerity.

What sounded like such an innocent flutter of a laugh sailed past her lips. “No reason to get hostile.”

“Could never be too sure with you.”

Your mean stare at Mio was averted to Megumi when you felt his familiar touch carefully circle your wrist. He tried calling your name in order to calm down the situation, but was taken aback when his voice had no soothing affect on your angled eyebrows.

What was worse, was how you pulled your hand out of his grip, folding your arms over your chest before turning your back to him again, fiery eyes locked on Mio.

“Poor guy looked so lost where he stood. Wouldn’t have been right to just let him stand alone while you were out and about,” she said, subtly tilting her head to the side to eye Megumi from top to toe.

You quickly took a step to the side to block her view. Whatever her intentions were, if she was actually interested in him or if she was just looking to get a rise out of you, you did not appreciate the glint in her eyes or the visible heat in her cheeks as things grew more tense.

You didn’t even try to hide the roll of your eyes at her sugary tone, fed up with her fake attitude. “Just-“ you took a deep sigh. “Just keep your hands off my boyfriend, got it?”

“Then don’t let your handsome boyfriend stand all alone for me to get my hands on,” the same fake smile plastered on her lips. You swear you were about to let your hand come travelling through the air to slap her across the face, the alcohol not helping on your restraints.

Taking a step closer, you felt a few eyes start to turn towards you. “You better watch what comes out of your mouth next-“ eyes widen when she clicked her tongue before once again tilting her head to address Megumi.

“You let her talk like this?”

The whole interaction Mio’d had with you had instantly made Megumi dislike her immensely, wearing an expression of distain at how she could even think to talk to you like that — but you didn’t notice this, too focused on channeling all your self control in not getting yourself arrested.

“I’ve had enough of your bullshit, Mio! This whole attitude is going to get you slapped one day, and I’ll make sure of it-“

Once again, Megumi spoke your name. “It’s not worth-“

“And you!” Spinning around to face your boyfriend, whose eyes were as big as saucers when you seemed to have shifted all your fury to him, having a stern finger lingering on his chest. “Is this funny to you?” The slightest crack in your voice could be heard, Megumi’s eyes flittering between yours in utter confusion, not understanding why he was on the receiving end of your loud remarks.

“What? No, of course not-“

“Suddenly in college and decide you wanna be all social and outgoing?” He heard how the heartbreak was subtly latching on to every word, the intoxication in your system making it harder for you to control the quiver in your chin.

“That’s not-“ he cut himself off with a sigh of thought, the little alcohol he himself had consumed having his brain move a little slower than usual. “Let’s take this somewhere else,” he said and reached for your arm again, only for you to flinch away stubbornly.

“What? You don’t wanna do this here? Embarrassed people will see?” Both of you knew he was hating every second of the scenario taking place, the nosy eyes that were now glued on you having his face slowly turn red. However, that wasn’t his biggest concern, not even close — you were.

He carefully leaned in closer so you were the only one who’d be able to hear him. “You don’t wanna do this here.” His voice was soft, the tension in your shoulders only slipping for a second at the sound of his compassion. “Come on,” he nodded towards the backyard that was a lot less crowded. “Please.”

After a second of steadying your breath, you shyly nodded in agreement. With a lot of love in his gesture, he snaked his arm around your waist to lead you out, but not before Mio got the chance to throw another comment at you.

“What a behaviour from our president,” every word laced with petty venom. Megumi’s grip grew sturdier around you to prevent you from launching at her.

“She’s not worth it. Let it go.”

You were practically shaking with adrenaline caused by Mio’s tasteless comments, mixed with the hurt you’d come to feel after spiralling about your boyfriend’s sudden changed behaviour, wrapping your arms around yourself once Megumi had led you to a secluded corner of the garden.

“You enjoying all this female attention you’re suddenly getting?” It tumbled out of you before he had the chance to ask.

“Where’s this coming from?”

You scoffed, the angry tears wetting the corner of your eyes. “First there’s Yukiko throwing herself at you, then there’s Mio, and I cannot see why you don’t to anything to shut them down!” You annunciated the last three words so clearly, pointing your hand out to get the point across.

“What?” He drifted off into a whisper, nearly speechless by perplexity.

“You’ve always been so god damn stoic, distancing yourself from any human interaction at all cost,” you exaggerated, the sobs threatening in your throat, “and now when these pretty girls show an interest you’ve decided it’s time to start being smiley and shit? What’s that all about, Megumi? Do you know how much that fucking hurts?”

His mouth hung open in shock, letting your words sink in as he witnessed how the tears were now rolling down your puffy cheeks, the alcohol causing you to wobble slightly.

“I’ve never noticed,” was the first thing he managed to say.

“Noticed what? That you’re letting these girls flirt with you?” Your shoulders were now bouncing along with your heaving.

“No, I never even noticed they were flirting.”

A moment of silence was shared, your frantic sniffling filling the void before you opened your mouth to snap a frustrated “what?”

“Look,” he breathed, shyly grabbing your chin to force you to look in his eyes. He guess he could actually thank the alcohol for his sudden directness, having strayed from his confrontational ways long ago and now leaning more into an avoidant style of resolution. But right now, the liquid courage seemed to bring out a side of him you desperately needed in the moment.

“I think I’m oblivious to it because of you.” He watched how your eyebrows narrowed, uncertain if it was out of confusion or anger. “I’m still baffled you’re into me. So it’s beyond me that anyone would be.”

He had no idea what words were to come out of him next, slowly sensing that his nerves was having him retreat to his normal, reserved self. “I’ve always been alone, and always enjoyed being alone. Until you came along.”

“But that doesn’t explain why you’re now… I don’t know, engaging in these interactions so happily! What am I supposed to do with that?” You pleaded.

“Well, I think that’s also because of you.” The worst of your sobs calmed down at the statement, your shoulders along with them. “I have you now… so I guess I’m just… happy.”

There had never been a person Megumi had been more comfortable around than you, finally finding someone he was able to completely let his guard down with — but that didn’t mean he was any better with big declarations, still feeling every inch of his skin grow hot with agitated stress, especially with your wet and watchful eyes never daring to look away from him.

“Really?” Your voice cracked, to which he slowly nodded in confirmation.

“I only want you. I’ve only ever wanted you.”

The simple confession, though not a secret, felt heavy, only amplified ten times over by the shots you’d downed not too long ago as your lips once again started to tremble. In sheer embarrassment, your head fell forward and collided with his chest to hide your face.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled between calm sniffles.

His chest hummed with a relieved chuckle as he loosely knitted his arms around you. “It’s nothing to be sorry about.”

He simply held you for some time, feeling your body shake meekly against him while you cried it out quietly, his own mind deep in thought — mostly by how he had been introduced to some insecurities he couldn’t have imagined you were feeling.

Never in his wildest dreams could he have thought these things would cause you as much discomfort as they clearly did, when everyone always saw you as so sure of yourself and confident. And with this newly obtained information, he knew to be more aware in the future if his nativity.

Come morning, he also knew you’d curse and shame yourself for the outburst, and he was prepared to calm you down again when that came.

tags (taglist is open) @sad-darksoul @nyahctrl @ssetsuka @aceakariii @chxlexauriana

@ps-forgetmenot @thejujvtsupost @acowboykisser @rixo-19

@shokosbunny @xxaestheticvibezxx @iheartlinds @rory-cakes

a/n okay so, not suuuper happy with this but it’s for those who wanted a more heated argument so here you go, hope it's a little more confrontational than the last one. but we all know megumi would never do anything. also, fun fact, reader's costume is very heavily inspired by my own halloween costume last year lol likes, comments and reblogs is much appreciated

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[surohsopsisofclouds]

hiiii i did think of some questions about your art piece if you don't mind answering! also feel free to not answer or basically do whatever you want tbh

did you use any refrences for the poses? and how did you choose the poses (with or without refrences)

who (specifically, if you don't mind me asking) do the colors represent?

also does the font/handwriting style represent anything?

(also the vent art you did a couple days ago about people just kinda being mad in your general vicinity is so real and it sucks that it happened to you)

Thanks for asking! I love a chance to ramble <3

1. Nope! We don't use pose references super often, though we do spend time studying poses occasionally. We chose them based on vibes, tried to go with poses that would get the feel of how we were in those times across, you know?

Highschool -> subconsciously hiding from people & then towards the end closing ourself off from a lot of people. (did... not really realize we were traumatized at that point in time. When hindsight hit us it hit us with a BAT)

Just Moved Out -> Had just had some of the worst 4 months of our life + just moved out & had A Lot to learn about adult life, so we were super stressed and jittery while trying to cheer ourselves on through it and actually figure out who we wanted to be. (still kind of a doormat, but a self-aware one that was trying to change)

2024 -> More settled in our skin, more familiar with adult life with fewer Immediate problems to solve, and a better relationship with our immediate family, a lot more relaxed with healthier coping mechanisms even if there's still a lot to be stressed over. (successfully far less of a doormat, reveling in how far we've come)

2. The colors represent as follows! Dark Blue = Moon, Yellow = Sun, Light Pink = Estrellum, Green = Dream, and Blue = Remy!

Just Moved Out also has tints of Sun's colors in them, to show that towards the end of that whole era Remy stepped down as temp-host and Sun reclaimed her title as host. I think it was earlier this year/late last year that Moon also reclaimed heir title? Bringing us back to the original two hosts after about 3 years break for them!

3. The font/handwriting didn't represent much when we were drawing, mostly just the handwriting styles of each host, but if I were to ascribe any meaning to them it'd be:

High school: We had a bad habit of always putting way more effort into everything than we needed to, that included our handwriting/writing in general! We got bad anxiety even just from small accidental typos or improper grammar.

Just Moved Out: We noticed that habit and started trying to break away from it. Baby steps and purposefully mistyping things occasionally were key! It honestly helps that some of our littles have a hard time typing, it added a positive association with messing up!

2024: We've successfully broken the habit! To the point where sometimes we won't even notice we messed up a word till we already sent it, and even then we'll just shrug it off instead of worrying over it!

(also thanks for the sympathy on that /gen, it means a lot. sometimes art's a good way to work through that stuff, you know?)

[therainscene]

I’m obsessed with @wheelersboy’s theory that Mike thinks Will is in love with El. It’s one of those takes that’s so simple, yet so perfectly explains every odd little detail you couldn’t quite account for before, that you know you’re on to a winner.

I always thought it was bizarre that the Willel reunion at NINA was framed in blatant love triangle imagery:

If this was supposed to be yet another reminder that the sad widdle gay boy has fee-fees for his best friend, we’d expect him to be gazing at Mike or otherwise looking conflicted at both of them. But he isn’t. His steady, adoring gaze is for El only. Yes, he loves her, but that love is strictly fraternal, so why the romance symbolism?

Is it straight-bait? This scene comes after his thinly-veiled love confession to Mike (in the same episode, no less), and the Duffers and Noah both made a point of confirming that Will was gay in post-vol.2 interviews, so making the audience think that Will is in love with El clearly wasn’t the intention here.

The Willel romance-coding isn’t for the audience -- it’s for Mike.

We often joke about Mike being crushed that Will didn’t laugh at his vomit green socks, but follow Will’s gaze -- it’s a little hard to see in the still image, but he’s staring at El, checking to see if she’s going to heed his advice. Mike's discomfort isn’t because he’s upset that Will didn’t like his joke, it’s because he doesn’t understand the weird tension between these two and is frustrated that his attempt to lighten the mood didn’t dispel it.

Mike’s smart enough to correctly connect the dots by the time Will starts sobbing in the van though: Will is destroying himself in his efforts to be supportive of the relationship between his best friend and the person he’s in love with.

But heteronormativity and a severe inferiority complex lead him to draw the wrong conclusion -- he thinks he’s the best friend and El is the one Will’s in love with, and that gets confirmed in his mind when he catches them making goo-goo eyes at each other at NINA.

And not once, after figuring it out, does he get jealous about it -- he guides El into Will’s arms at NINA, he looks conflicted as hell during the “I love you” monologue as Will hovers over his shoulder -- he just wants them to be happy and is prepared to put his own feelings aside to make it happen, even though it would hurt him terribly to do so. Exactly the same fucking thing Will is doing. It’s utterly farcical. I love this theory so much.

I’d like to springboard off this by taking a look at what it implies about S5.

Between Will’s history with Vecna and the Wonder Twins foreshadowing--

--it’s looking pretty likely that Will and El are going to be spending a significant amount of time together next season.

So we can already see that conditions are perfect for Mike to go through a similar arc as Will did in S4: being a third wheel between his best friend and the person he’s in love with and feeling like he can never truly be more than a third wheel, leading him to sacrifice himself in an effort to support what he thinks they have together.

Mike is very much at risk of doing something stupidly self-harming in S5 -- this is the same kid who jumped off a cliff to protect Dustin’s baby teeth, after all. He feels like he has no value if he isn’t needed by Superman. And there’s a goddamn mind-reading despair demon stalking his friend group.

Of course, it’ll all work out in the end. He’ll be saved at the last moment, the truth will be tearfully revealed, and we’ll finally get that big, dramatic, affirming kiss for our OTP.

You might have noticed that everything I’ve said in this analysis so far is consistent with either Byler or Milevn being endgame.

Many Milevns and GA members don’t just believe that Milevn will triumph over Byler -- they believe there isn’t any conflict between Milevn and Byler in the first place. The lack of evidence that Mike isn’t into boys is meaningless to the heteronormative mindset -- he’s the protagonist and dating a girl, therefore he’s straight, therefore Will’s hopes are dead in the water, therefore Mike has no romantic dilemma to solve.

By introducing a misunderstanding in which Mike imagines that his best friend is competing for his girlfriend -- couching his dilemma in relatable heterosexual terms -- the audience will be forced to accept that Mike is experiencing a distressing internal conflict involving Will and romance that won’t be resolved until the queer truth comes out.

The GA felt bad for Will in S4 because they assumed there was nothing he could do about it, but they’ll be tearing their hair out with frustration at Mike in S5 -- “you’re wrongly assuming he’s straight, you idiot! Just talk to him and this will all be cleared up!!”

It would be an absolutely genius way of getting the audience to question heteronormativity without them even realizing they’re questioning heteronormativity.

Once Mike’s queerness is revealed, the parallels between his arc and Will’s will suddenly become clear, and the audience will realize that, despite his straight-passing invisibility, Mike was just the other side of the same gay coin Will was on all along.

[Part 2]