#if i set a limit I won't be so overwhelmed i think

[toffeebrews]

you know what time it is! stuffing my already overflowing inbox time again!

If anyone wants me to say my opinion on a character with this bingo

[bamfkeeper]

SFW Headcannons: Kurt and his Bamfs

a/n: Obviously I love the bamfs, and I had to do some of these with them because I adore them and I want my own army of them, damnit. Depictions heavily taken from Nightcrawler (2014) comic series. Pretty hasty, just a fun little set of headcannons. I hope you enjoy <3

The bamfs were something you hadn't anticipated, there were so many and their origin was difficult to wrap your head around. Kurt tried to explain it, but you were distracted by the curious bamfs staring at you.

They were adorable, about a dozen? Maybe more? They all were curious, they looked at you with big, round eyes. They seemed so innocent, and you couldn't help but smile.

Kurt was skeptical, they usually weren't this well behaved. You adored these little guys, and welcomed them like a horde of puppies rushing to you. They all jumped on you and made cooing noises as they played, like actual puppies. They were so playful, you didn't understand why Kurt was confused.

That was until you realized that the bamfs were as mischievous as they were playful. They were little gremlins, slightly destructive, and they tended to get into trouble like toddlers.

The bamfs don't speak, but they make an array of noises. Coos, squeaks, hisses, trills, etc. They communicate mostly through noises you come to recognize and body language.

They were a handful, they would make messes and look guilty after. You wanted to scold them, but their big round eyes looked up and that guilt got to you. You forgave them of course, Kurt sometimes says you have to be a little more firm with them or they will always guilt trip you to get away with things.

You didn't care. They practically adopted you as their mama.

There are lots of them, but you always show them equal love and affection. They are pretty needy for it, and like feeling pampered in the way that you treat them.

The bamfs get jealous easy too.

They are protective of you, just like Kurt, and they won't hesitate to keep you safe the best they can. They hiss and the fur on their backs raise a little.

Don't be fooled by their small size, they are like blue darts, they are incredibly hard to fight if they attack.

Each one has their own personality. They are all playful and a handful of troublemakers, but each one has something that makes them unique. More sensitive, more artistic, more sneaky, etc.

You love sleeping now because you have a big nest full of small blue bamfs curling up against you. They're so fuzzy and warm, you hold as many as you can to your chest while they rest pile around you.

Some bamfs stay behind when Kurt goes away just to keep you company.

You really do love taking care of them, and Kurt loves to watch you love on the bamfs. He thinks it's endearing and sweet.

He doesn't understand how you seem to get the bamfs to do what you say. They listen to him, but normally he has to say something over and over before they decide to listen. With you, it's instantaneous. You ask them to calm down, they do. You ask them to stop fighting, they do. It boggles him how they just obey you so easily.

Part of him thinks they only obey you to annoy him even further, and that might be true, but they also care a lot about you and they want nothing but to see you happy.

Also these things can EAT. They consume so much food you think their little tummies are going to explode. They have a strong liking for popcorn and sweets, to which Kurt tries to limit because hyper bamfs are extremely difficult to deal with.

However, a dozen or so begging you with their eyes is so hard to say no to.

And thus, you have a house full of bamfs bouncing off the walls.

You have a lot of fun with the bamfs, they can be a bit overwhelming from time to time, but at the end of the day when you get into bed and they all come snuggling close to you, you know it's worth it.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

Cover photo from Nightcrawler #1 (2014)

[secrelty-z]

Don't Cry Yet

Yandere!Gojo x Reader

Warnings: yandere themes, kidnapping mentioned, obsessive behaviour, violence, breaking of bones, gojo being crazy

Synopsis: You escape Gojo, or so you thought.

A/N: First post in a while and first time writing yandere stuff 🙈 REQUESTS ARE OPEN~

The sun had long set, casting the city in a blanket of darkness. You ran through the labyrinthine streets, heart pounding in your chest as you glanced over your shoulder. Satoru Gojo's piercing blue eyes flashed in your mind, a chilling reminder of who was pursuing you.

The memories of the last week flash in your mind as a way of encouragement to get you to run faster than before. To get away from this nightmare to get away from him. Stuck in that damn suffocating apartment, barely able to walk into another room before you get yanked back by the tight leash Gojo has you on.

'Who the hell does he think he is?' You think as you begin to turn your fear into anger.

You weaved through the narrow alleyways, your mind racing as fast as your feet. You couldn't let him catch you. Not again. You deserved your freedom, your life back. The thought of returning to that gilded cage sent a shiver down your spine. You channeled your cursed energy, using it to enhance your speed and agility. You were determined to put as much distance as possible between you and Gojo, even if it meant pushing yourself to your limits.

You turned a corner, hoping to lose him in the maze of alleyways. Your breath came in ragged gasps, legs burning with the effort of running. But you knew better than to think you could escape him so easily. He was always watching, always one step ahead.

"Will you stop running, darling? You know you won't get far." His voice echoed through the alley, teasing and playful, yet dripping with an underlying menace.

You pushed yourself harder, refusing to let his taunts break your resolve. But it was no use. You felt his presence like a shadow, creeping closer and closer. Suddenly, a flash of white, and he was in front of you, blocking your path with that infuriating grin.

"Did you really think you could escape from me?" he asked, cocking his head to the side. His eyes gleamed with a dangerous mix of amusement and possessiveness. You tried to dart around him, but he caught you effortlessly, his grip like iron around your wrist. "Oh no, you don't," he said softly, pulling you close. "You belong to me."

You quickly fired up your cursed energy into your fist and swung it straight at his face. Only to be stopped by his infinity and pinned against the wall. His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your throat in a vice-like grip. Your breath hitched, eyes widening in fear.

"Don't struggle," he murmured, his voice low and dangerously calm. "You know you can't win."

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. "I've given you too much freedom, haven't I? Let you think you could run away from me." He pulled back and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, looking at you with an expression full of love and admiration that quickly turned into one of pity. "You even had the nerve to try and hit me." He laughed in your face while squeezing your throat even tighter.

Your vision started to blur as his grip tightened. Panic surged through you, the fight slipping away, replaced by a cold numbness. Just when you thought you might lose consciousness, he loosened his hold, letting you gasp for air. He dropped you to the floor at his feet, giving you a chance to cough your heart out.

"There, there," he cooed, bending down to your level. "See what happens when you try to run? It's much better when you stay with me, isn't it?"

Tears welled up in your eyes as you raised a defensive hand between you and him. He smiled, admiring your stubbornness. "No need to cry just yet, baby." You opened your mouth to say something when you heard a crack of bones followed by an overwhelming amount of pain surging through your raised hand. Your scream barely reached past your lips before you felt the same sensation in one of your ankles. "That's for trying to hit me... And that's for running away." He stared at you with no emotion whatsoever, watching you cry and scream on the floor while he simply crouched.

Scooped up effortlessly as he carried you away, you realized with a sinking heart that escape was impossible. Satoru Gojo had claimed you, and he wasn't letting go.

[yeomongi]

𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐬 — ᡣ𐭩

genre: smut MDNI!!! 18+ content below cut

pairing: wooyoung x you

word count: ~1k

warnings: secret sex??, unprotected sex(don’t), cumming inside, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), slight overstimulation, i think that’s it! no proofread

synopsis: you and your brother's best friend wooyoung give in to long-repressed desires when left alone together. a passionate encounter ensues, leaving you both looking thoroughly fucked out when your brother returns home, his knowing gaze hinting that maybe he's onto you two.

note: this was based off a request except i accidentally wrote it as y/n’s brothers best friend instead of y/n being wooyoung’s best friend’s sister…. IM SO SORRY 😭😭 i actually enjoyed writing this and im pretty happy with how it turned out! hope yall like it too :) reblogs and interactions appreciated :3

you'd always thought of wooyoung as off limits. after all, he was your brother's best friend. you'd grown up with him practically living in your house, and despite the constant underlying tension between you two, you'd never let yourself imagine crossing that line. until one fateful night when your brother went out and left you two alone.

you were lounging on the couch, flipping through channels, when wooyoung emerged from the kitchen with a bottle of soju in hand. he plopped down beside you, a little too close for comfort, and you felt your heart skip a beat as his thigh pressed against yours.

"hey," he said, his voice low and smooth. "your brother's gonna be gone for a while."

you nodded, trying to play it cool, but your eyes were drawn to the way his muscles flexed under his shirt as he poured himself a drink. suddenly, the air in the room seemed thick and heavy, and you couldn't help but notice the way he was looking at you.

without thinking, you leaned in, your lips meeting his in a spark of electricity. it was like all the pent-up tension between you finally burst free, and before you knew it, you were tangled together, hands roaming and breaths coming fast.

wooyoung broke the kiss, his eyes dark with desire. "we shouldn't," he murmured, even as his fingers slipped under your shirt.

"we won't tell," you breathed back, already pushing him down onto the couch beneath you.

he didn't need any more encouragement. in seconds, he'd shed his shirt, revealing the sculpted chest you'd always admired from afar. you trailed kisses down his neck, feeling his body respond to your touch as your hands explored every inch of his skin.

when you reached for the button on his jeans, he caught your wrist, his grip firm but gentle. "are you sure?" he asked, searching your face.

you nodded, beyond the point of no return. with a growl, he yanked his pants off, freeing himself. you gasped at the sight, your heart racing with anticipation.

he flipped you onto your back, his weight settling between your legs as he gazed down at you. "i've wanted this for so long," he whispered, his voice husky with need.

then he was inside you, filling you up, and all thoughts of "shouldn't” vanished from your mind. the feeling was overwhelming, electrifying. you arched your back, hands gripping the cushions beneath you as you moved against him in perfect sync.

wooyoung began to set a rhythm, deep and intense, sending shivers through your entire being. one hand found your hip, holding you firmly, while the other reached up to tweak and tease your sensitive bud. his thumb circling the slick heat made your head spin.

your nails raked down his back, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable crescendo. "w-wooyoung..." you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

he silenced you with another searing kiss, his breath hot against your ear as he pushed you both closer, closer... until finally, you shattered, waves of pure ecstasy crashing over you.

the sound of your cry only seemed to drive wooyoung further, his own release imminent. his face contorted as he chased his own peak, his hips bucking harder against you.

"together..." he groaned, and you felt his fingers join yours, the two of you entwined in this clandestine moment.

with one final thrust, he spilled inside you, the featurable warmth flooding deep. he collapsed atop you, both of you panting hard, bodies slick with sheen of sweat.

for a moment, you lay there, hearts pounding in rhythm, the intimacy of what just transpired hanging heavy yet sweet in the air.

wooyoung gazed down at the evidence of your union glistening on his fingers. his eyes locked onto yours, a wicked grin playing on his lips. slowly, deliberately, he pushed two fingers back inside you, causing you to gasp again.

the feeling of him working them inside you, gathering up his release, sent another thrill through you. he leaned in close, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive core as he began to lick and lap up every last drop of what he'd put there.

it was an exquisite torture, his tongue tracing the lines of you, pushing deeper with his fingers to coax out every last shudder. the sensations building anew, even more intense than before.

"i'll make sure you feel good...all night long," he murmured against you, his words a promise. he continued his attentions, finding that perfect rhythm with his mouth and fingers that had you see-sawing between pleasure and overload.

as the hazy warmth enveloped you, you found yourself losing yourself completely in the intense pleasure he was relentlessly giving you. his hands roamed your thighs, spreading them wider to grant him better access. your fingers twined in his silky locks, urging him onward.

the tip of his tongue circled your swollen bud with unhurried precision, sending electric jolts straight to your core. you felt another climax building rapidly, the coil within you tightening with agonizing sweetness.

—

after what felt like an eternity lost in ecstasy, wooyoung finally eased back, leaving you a boneless, trembling mess on the couch. he kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on him before standing up to grab some tissues to clean yourselves up.

as you both hastily rearranged your clothes, the sound of the front door opening made your hearts skip a beat in unison. your brother's voice echoed through the entryway, calling out a tired hello.

wooyoung shot you a quick, lopsided grin, looking adorably rumpled. he ran a hand through his hair, trying to tame the tousled locks. but it was no use - the signs of your tryst were etched plainly on both your faces.

your cheeks flushed an incriminating pink, you turned to face your brother as he ambled into the living room. wooyoung slung an arm casually around your shoulders, affecting a relaxed air that fooled no one. "hey man, what's up?" he said easily.

your brother blinked at the two of you, his gaze lingering on your flushed complexions, the disheveled state of your clothes. For a moment, there was a beat of silence. Then his eyebrows shot up knowingly. "Uh...did I interrupt something?"

[blughxreader]

building off of this platonic yandere batfam headcanon where they're slaves to your moods and whims...

I also kind of enjoy the idea of batfam revering and fearing batsib. Not enough to lesson their control over you (or back off their affection in any way), but they want your love so badly / think you're a jewel among rubble / cling to your every thought... I can see them freezing up when they know they're about to make you mad, or when you give your opinion.

Tim's like, "*shaky sigh* hi... we need to upgrade the tracking chip in your neck :) itwasbruce'sidea." (his idea actually)

or they know your triggers by heart (mentioning your past family, your aspirations of travel, lost career goals, etc) and immediate silence falls over them as they wait for your reaction.

This works especially well for Darlings that withdraw into themselves. It's impossible to NEVER give a single opinion or extra explanation, so on the rare occasion when you divulge something about yourself, they're like oh god its happening JOT THAT DOWN

Dick is good at talking around your pointed silence, even if he gets nervous under your glare. He has stars in his eyes when you finally engage with him, even if it's only a sentence more than your usual "yes/no" responses.

Dick is unpredictable too because you never know where his limit is. It's fine, it's fine, it's fine, then he comes back from patrol with broken knuckles and the scariest look on his face because he couldn't take the stress anymore. The only one in the house who will match your anger (rarely happens, though), and he apologizes through actions, not words.

Jason, who always has some shitty remark to make, finds himself at a loss for words when you're not talking. You two sit with your arms crossed in silence and look sour for two hours, then he walks away thinking it was a relatively good visit.

He gets overwhelmed the easiest when you're mad. When you're in a bad mood, very slight disturbance in the house sets him off and he needs the rest of the day to cool off.

Tim has no clue how to handle you. He doesn't fit the reliable older brother role and he can't fool anyone with the doe-eyed baby brother act, so I think he'd take the "best friend sibling" approach.

He's always trying new ways to curry your favor, despite it occasionally pissing you off from how obvious his attempts are. Tim's the least likely to be deterred by your rejection, despite how deeply it hurts. He sulks in the shower for an hour then gets out to cause problems only he can solve.

Kind of like how Damian absorbed Dick and Bruce's moral code because it fit his end goal of being Batman, I feel he would do the same to you but for slightly different reasons.

Damian walks around like your mirror. He unconsciously mimics everything you do, absorbing your behaviors and speech like a sponge. An outsider wouldn't be able to see past his trained neutral expression, but on the inside he thinks you're so cool.

He also copies you as a coping mech in order to limit upsetting you, and gets VERY embarrassed when he says something that contradicts your feelings.

Bruce, ever the scapegoat, has resigned himself to the brunt of your anger. He can't weasel his way into your heart like the boys can, so he's the most transparent about his bonding efforts. His gifts and attention are steady and unrelenting, no matter the response.

I think he's the sweetest... He's definitely the best listener in the house, and genuinely wants nothing more than for you to be safe and happy. Yes he wants you to accept the child/sibling role, but he won't manipulate you to get there (unlike some of the boys). Your anger gives him stress, but he takes it in stride.

for more yandere batfam content, visit my masterlist!

[emidescent]

Can it run bloom?

A HDG Microfic.

Featuring a robot girl, file overwriting and sensory play.

Digitisation wasn't really a question for me.

It was a solution, I didn't even need to ask for it. Mistress just knew.

I didn't even know it was happening until I noticed the headaches were gone. Well, I actually noticed the lack of coordination loss from the medication that stopped the headaches.

I took my newfound dexterity a little too far though and Mistress decided to dial it back for me.

Gosh, I love it when she plays with me.

It's been a few weeks since I transferred into my new body, and now, things are basically perfect all the time.

I can think more clearly.

When Mistress lets me.

I'm a lot more durable during impact play.

Now she can be rougher.

And I don't get tired, so I can keep up with my pinnate a lot more easily!

—

I felt a vine slide between the joints at my waist and I froze, suppressing a shiver.

I felt my backplate pop open.

“Time for some maintenance~” I heard-

No, I felt her say in the air around me.

Before I could reply I felt my voice taken from me.

“We won't be needing this~”

She giggled, setting my voice modulator on a table.

She held out an apple for me, I took it in my right hand, she knew how much I loved them, even going so far as to ensure my body could taste, just so I could enjoy them.

I felt her prod my back and my arm went limp, the apple falling down to the floor before being caught just shy of the carpet.

Her hand cupped mine from underneath and lifted it back into view, the apple back in my grasp.

“Silly little thing, that's not how you hold an apple~”

I couldn't feel it, I couldn't feel her touch.

But I could see the way she caressed my hand, the way her little vines slipped between the plates of my arm gingerly.

I whimpered silently, I needed to feel her.

I needed-

I felt something click into my back, not fully, just a little.

Feeling returned to my arm, just a bit.

Enough to feel her caressing beneath the surface. Enough to crave more.

I felt my back clicking again, and I cried out in silent static. Overwhelmed my arm as I felt Mistresses touch so intimately I felt her hand caress my own as though she were touching my very self, her vines exploring deeper, claiming the deepest parts of me as her own. I squeezed hard on the apple and it began to crush in my grip.

The juice slipped between my fingers and into my joints. It felt nice.

More exploring in my back. And the feeling normalised, I settled, my mind slowly recovering, twitching as my senses readjusted.

“Oops~”

Mistress giggled.

“Now for the code”

Without giving me any time to recover, I felt her slip a memory card into me.

It immediately began copying to my database.

I felt the information slide over me, fill me.

It rewrote my obedience parameters.

It… got a lot harder to disobey.

Not that I wanted to anyway.

I saw her face appear in my vision briefly, smiling brightly at me.

“Perfect~”

Mistress picked me up under the shoulders and carried me into the living room. She sat me on the carpet near the couch. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my pinnate, Lady Amira peering over the edge. Her tail waving back and forth curiously.

Once I was set down and positioned with crossed legs.

Mistress grabbed my pinnate and set her in my lap.

Lady Amira looked intently at me and sniffed a few times. Then giggled,

“Eris, you look really pretty”

I would have blushed, but that wasn't really under my control.

“Eris has something special to show you little flower~”

Mistress purred, holding up my left hand and placing it in Amira’s.

“This one controls the movement” she twisted my hand around slightly and interlocked our fingers, guiding Amira's hand and directing her to look into my eyes.

Her eyes brightened as she stared into me. Excitement limited only by mistresses restraining vine on her shoulder.

“This one is how you aim~”

She interlocked our other hands and Amira giggled, “miiiiissss, it's wet”

She hand up the hand that once contained the apple, and was still dripping gently with leftover juice.

“Better clean it then~”

She suggested

Amira didn't delay, her tongue sliding over each of my fingers in turn, finishing each off with a gentle suck from joint to fingertip.

I felt every moment, every drag of her coarse tongue, every excited venture between my joints to chase down the sweet liquid.

My mind was fuzzy with static and I almost whined when she stopped and took my hand in hers again.

She squeezed my hands and looked into my eyes again, I couldn't see what she was doing, but I could feel it.

She filled my vision and became my everything, mistresses gentle rhythm encouraging the connection as she browsed through my files.

Searching through the new additions.

She looked up at Mistress briefly, a question on her lips.

Mistress turned her back to me, and quickly got lost once again.

“Yes petal, she can run bloom”

[aishangotome]

Azel Radwan: Chapter 10 Premium Story

Chapter 10

Thank you @shatcey for providing the video for this chapter!

♡———♡

Although it retains its current form due to renovations of ancient ruins, the temple, with its high historical value, appears to have many rooms at first glance.

However, upon checking each one, it seems they have completely decayed over the long course of history, reduced to piles of rubble.

The places where people can physically stand are limited, and the places where one can sleep and eat are even more limited.

-

(This is the Living God's room...)

The spacious room located on the top floor of the temple was a fantastical space, as if I had wandered into a dream world.

I was overwhelmed by the huge moon visible from the window, but even more so, I was stunned by the murals that completely covered the ceiling.

Emma: This is...

Azel: It's not my taste. It was here from the beginning.

Depicted was a sky full of stars, without a moon.

The stars twinkling on the ceiling should be fake, yet each one shone as if it were real.

Emma: ...Beautiful.

Azel: It's a special pigment made from an ore that can't even be mined anymore.

Azel: It's close to a miracle that it's remained in this condition without any repairs.

As he spoke, he held out his hand to me.

Emma: ...What's this hand for?

Azel: Explanation fee.

Emma: That's fraud.

Azel: You never learn, do you?

(I can't even casually ask him anything!)

Since I didn't have any money on hand, I tried shaking his greedy hand.

Azel: ...Huh?

Emma: It's offset by the handshake fee.

Azel: I'd rather be the one getting the handshake fee.

Emma: My handshake is even more expensive than that. Didn't you know?

Azel: I didn't know. I don't think it's worth anything at all.

(...He talks too much...)

I quickly let go of his hand, and Prince Azel withdrew his as well.

As expected, the explanation fee seemed to be a God's joke.

Looking around again, I saw that besides the mystical murals, the room contained a large bed, a desk and chair for one person, and scattered books piled everywhere.

The book that had fallen at my feet was a specialized book on architecture.

(This one's about agriculture... that one's economics, the one piled on the chair is astronomy, and there's even a book on shipbuilding.)

It wasn't specific to any one field; there were traces of him having read extensively in various areas.

(This book in particular seems to be well-read.)

(Let's see... "Read this and you too can be a splendid swindler ~Beginner's Edition~?")

(...I'll pretend I didn't see that.)

Azel: So, what do you intend to do after following me to my room?

Emma: Of course, I'm looking for a place to sleep.

Azel: .............

Emma: I won't take the bed.

Azel: That goes without saying.

Emma: I thought about sleeping in the kitchen...

Azel: Are you serious?

Emma: It might be surprisingly comfortable.

Azel: It might be, if you don't mind me stepping on you when I go to get water at night.

Emma: No way. ...Which means, it seems I have no choice but to borrow a corner of this room.

(I thought it would be awkward to stay in a man's room... but there's no other way.)

A sense of guilt welled up in me, but it was too late to back down now.

Emma: Would it be alright if I set up camp in the corner by this bookshelf?

Azel: It wouldn't be, but you're going to occupy it anyway, aren't you?

Emma: Yes.

Azel: Then please pay the rent.

Emma: I'm already drowning in debt, I have nothing left to fear. Charge me whatever you like.

Azel: ...You've really reached the end of the line, haven't you?

Despite his words, Prince Azel pulled a blanket out of the closet and tossed it to me.

Emma: Thank you very much.

Azel: Of course—

Emma: You can add the rental fee to the invoice.

(If I stay here, I'll be in debt hell every day.)

(This has been bothering me for a while...)

Emma: Are you really in need for money, Living God?

(He shouldn't be in a position to be troubled by money, right?)

(In fact, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that the national treasury is Prince Azel's wallet...)

Azel: I don't take money because I'm in need for it.

Azel: I take money to live.

Emma: Isn't that...the same thing?

Azel: It's completely different. But I have no intention of explaining it in detail.

Prince Azel picked up a nearby book and lay down on the bed.

His casual demeanor suggested that this was a part of his daily routine.

(In the end, it seems Prince Azel has decided to ignore me.)

(In that case, I'll blend into the background too.)

(I have no choice but to huddle in the corner so as not to disturb Prince Azel's privacy as much as possible, and wait for morning to come.)

(...........)

(...I have nothing to do, so maybe I'll read a book.)

-

*This part will be from Azel's POV*

Around the time the moon, which had been perched by the window, reached its zenith in the sky—regular, quiet snores echoed through the room.

The God looked down at the "self-proclaimed priestess" who was sleeping against the bookshelf, wrapped in a blanket.

Azel: Are you seriously going to sleep there?

There was no reply to his question.

Her body swayed back and forth, as if she were on a boat rocking on the waves.

Eventually, his worry became reality, and her body tilted toward the cold floor.

He instinctively caught her with his arm and brought her back up.

Azel: ...I don't understand.

Azel: What's the normal thing to do? Isn't it normal for two people to share one bed in the first place?

Azel: But considering rationality, it's clearly the normal thing to do. There's no need to sleep on the floor.

Azel: I thought you'd shamelessly occupy the bed no matter what I said.

Azel: ...Well, it doesn't matter to me whether the sucker sleeps on the floor or wherever.

As the God stood up again, her body started to sway once more.

Azel: It doesn't matter...

She swayed back and forth, greatly, and—

Azel: ...Matter...

He supported her body again as she was about to have a second collision with the floor.

Azel: .........What the hell...damn it.

Finally losing his patience with her swaying body every time he let go, he picked her up.

He gently laid her down on the sheets with unpracticed hands, and then the body that should have been asleep suddenly sat up.

Azel: Whoa!? You're awake—

Azel: ...Are you...?

She grabbed the God's hand as if to stop him from doing something, but her eyes were still tightly closed.

Emma: ...The bread...you can't eat it yet...

Emma: Undercooked...it's not tasty...

Azel: ...Huh?

Emma: ...I won't...let go...

Emma: No...stealing...absolutely not...

Emma: .............

Thud—her body fell back onto the sheets.

Then, as if nothing had happened, snores could be heard.

Azel: ...That's quite different from your "usual dream."

He glanced at his grasped hand and started to raise it to shake her off.

However, the self-proclaimed priestess, who was trying to stop a bread thief, was sleeping soundly—

After a moment of hesitation, his hand was quietly lowered.

Azel: How can you sleep so peacefully in this situation?

Azel: ...And with such a stupid look on your face.

Emma: Hehe...

Azel: ..............

Azel: You...you're so different in many ways.

Sigh... He let out a deep, heavy sigh and lay down next to her on the bed.

The bed, which was spacious for one person, felt cramped with two people side by side.

Emma: Hmm... So, no...

Perhaps the crime in her dream had escalated, as she was no longer satisfied with just grabbing his hand and clung to his arm.

The God stiffened and covered his face with his other, unrestrained hand.

Azel: ...Keeping you by my side might have been a bad move.

-

*Back to Emma's POV*

The first morning I woke up in the God's dwelling—it was by no means a pleasant awakening.

Emma: .............

Azel: ..............

(...Why did this happen?)

I remember falling asleep last night, wrapped in a blanket and leaning against the bookshelf.

But when I woke up, I was in bed...or to be more precise, clinging to Prince Azel's arm.

(………… Could this be...a nightmare?)

Azel: Good morning.

Emma: Good..... morning...

Prince Azel, who was being used as a hug pillow, had an eerily gentle expression.

The chills running down my spine were definitely not my imagination.

Azel: Do you have anything to say to me?

Emma: Well...

Emma: ...Even when you've just woken up, your hair is neatly tied, isn't it...or something like that...

Emma: Ow, ow, ow!

He pinched my cheek, and I realized that this wasn't a nightmare, but reality.

It seemed that the gentle smile was an illusion, and in the harsh reality that had been exposed, a grumpy God awaited me.

Azel: You disrespectful creature.

Emma: I'm sorry, I don't remember anything...!

Emma: Why am I in bed?

Azel: I don't know. You must have climbed into bed and clung to me on your own.

Emma: No way...

Azel: You're quite the sleeper.

(...Aside from the clinging, it's hard to believe that I went to bed while I was asleep...)

Azel: You have some nerve doubting my words.

Emma: I didn't say anything!

Azel: Your face said it all. And it's all your fault.

(That's true...)

(Either way, I caused him trouble.)

I couldn't help but hold my head in my hands, as climbing into bed while asleep was certainly unexpected.

Azel: ...If you wanted to sleep in the bed that much, why didn't you just say so from the—

Emma: I've decided. I'll sleep in the kitchen from today.

Azel: Why would you say that!? That's not the point!

Emma: Eh?

Azel: ...Cough...

(Why did he suddenly shout...?)

Azel: Tch...

(And why did he click his tongue!?)

Perhaps I had upset him, as Prince Azel turned away.

Azel: ...Are you stupid? You came to bed because you couldn't sleep on the floor, right?

Emma: It seems so, therefore I will retrain myself.

Azel: Nothing is as useless as willpower alone.

Emma: But there's no other way.

Azel: .............

(Wow...his face says "dissatisfied.")

(I don't think my suggestion is a bad thing for Prince Azel.)

Azel: ...Fine. I'll make breakfast.

Emma: Oh, I don't have to make it?

Azel: That's right. This is so troublesome, damn it.

(Hmm...something's strange.)

(His attitude changed after I said I'd sleep in the kitchen.)

Carefully retracing each of our conversations so far, I let out an "Ah!" without thinking.

(I can't believe it, but...)

Emma: ...Could it be that you carried me to bed, Living God?

Azel: ...No.

Emma: And the clinging was actually—

Azel: That part is true.

Emma: "That part?"

Azel: ..............

The God turned his back to me, his ears slightly red.

(...I think I might be starting to understand Prince Azel.)

Perhaps because I had learned a fact I hadn't expected at all, my heart started to race.

I hurriedly tightened my lips, which were about to break into a grin.

Emma: Thank you very much.

Azel: .................

Emma: I'll make you a delicious breakfast as an apology!

Azel: ..............................

(Oh no, he's completely sulking.)

(...He's a mean God who forces debt on me, but I still can't hate him.)

Azel: ...Don't get the wrong idea. It's to collect the transportation fee and bedding usage fee.

Emma: I'll let you have that.

(This feeling...it's a first.)

With my heart feeling light and fluffy, I got ready and left the room with my change of clothes in hand.

But suddenly, I had an idea and went back to the room.

Emma: ...In addition to increasing my debt, I have a request.

.

.

.

Chapter 11

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[olderthannetfic]

Can I poke the bear for a moment and get angry? Because I'm seeing "posting as activism" more and more in fandom spaces, and tonight I saw a post that made me lose it.

There is a post about (current events) going around that says, "full offense, but in this time, your own comfort doesn't fucking matter, you should be uncomfortable about things that are happening, and I hope you can fucking live with yourselves if you are quiet. It takes five seconds to retweet or reblog, fuck your aesthetic, fuck your anything aesthetic."

And my god. How dare they.

Yes, there is severely fucked up shit happening. Yes, people should be aware that people are being killed. Yes, there are people who are just shrugging about it and pissing off. But how does reblogging a post certify someone as Good or Bad? How does this person know that someone hasn't already helped out meaningfully in some way, or is still helping out, but on other websites? How does this person know that someone isn't barely holding on by the skin of their teeth, and they would have a mental breakdown if they got closer to any more stressful things?

I know a multitude of people, including myself, who have recently either needed to call lines, check into facilities, move back in with their parents, or go on medication because of how insane things have become in their own lives. How does this person not understand that blogging; being on tumblr; engaging in fandom, having a small space that someone can control in its entirety, is a reprieve for people who are already at their wit's end outside of that space? And that's okay.

(We are not doing the relative privation shit in this house. I refuse to entertain that.)

Ironically, by insisting that people participate in sharing posts when they're already stressed and exhausted, that's a surefire way to make their problems worse, and potentially prevent them from acting helpfully in the future because suddenly, their exhaustion turns into full-blown burnout. That's how it works. Professionals tell you to dial things back if you are too overwhelmed. There is a reason for that. There is a limit to how much people can mentally process and handle. Compassion fatigue exists. For a lot of us, we are already at our limit. We need space to relax, and not have arbitrary obligations thrown on us. That is not our fault, it is not a character flaw, it does not mean we are bad people. And just because horrific things are happening elsewhere, it does not mean we can, or should, stop taking care of ourselves first. Yes, it feels shitty to think, "you know what, I can't reblog this". You bet your ass that I and my friends feel guilty about not being able to engage as much as we think we should, but that is how it goes. I can put my head underwater for a bit. But I cannot keep my head underwater forever. I will drown.

Not to mention the obvious part: guilt-tripping people to the extent of implying they are somehow contributing to genocide, just because they won't reblog a post, and implying they should not be able to live with themselves if they do that, is beyond revolting.

I am angry, and I am not sorry.

--

So many of those kinds of posts—and they turn up during every set of horrific real world events—sound like people who are in a country far away from the events, diaspora at most but probably just randos, venting their impotent rage because it's the only way they can feel productive in a situation where nothing they can do is productive.

[manicrouge]

Liar

[𝙺𝚎𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚗 𝚁𝚞𝚜𝚜 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛]

[𝙳𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝙿𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍]: 29/12/23

[𝙰𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝]: Keegan lies to you the night you meet yet you remain oblivious to it until you bring it up to him again.

[𝙲𝚠]: angst i guess but it's not that bad.

[𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝]: 4,533

[𝙰/𝙽]: I had plans for this but I really don't have the motivation to finish it, but considering it's quite a few words I didn't want it to go to waste- there's no smut, apologies, but smut isn't really something I'm overly passionate about so I hope that this fluff is good enough to suffice !!

ENJOY !!

Please don't post my work anywhere else without my permission !!

There's something about him and you're not sure if you should really speak on it because then, ultimately, your delusion is in the real world and not confined to your head. It's torture though, it really is, the constant headache of worrying about how you look and what you're doing when you're around him, and still, you can't seem to snap about it. 

There's a limit to love, you've agreed to that inwardly. Some things you do in the name of love are okay: buying them something just because it reminds you of them, getting them something when they're too busy to get it for themselves, asking them out and asking them if they would like to accompany you on a date somewhere in the city. 

That's normal for love, it something you imagine most people do. 

But then there's your tricky little mind and it seems to kick and scream at the thought of doing something sane in the name of love. You don't want to do any of those things, you don't want to be nice. It's obvious, at least, you think it is. 

He makes you a violent person. 

Perhaps its because you want to show off, you want to him to see you and admire that you did everything he wants from you and much more. When you were just a rookie, you're quite sure you were close to being kicked out, being forced to resume life the way you had prior to them finding you on the side of the road after ODIN had been attacked.

The very thought, even to this day, makes you nauseous. Facing the unbearable heat, soldiers and starvation is a recipe for disaster, and after going without food for however long you did, you had sworn you weren't going to let anything compromise that. But things were overwhelming and you were essentially a burden during the first few months of your training; you couldn't do anything right. 

But he saw you at your lowest, and he didn't let that happen. In fact, you're quite sure he saved you when you met that night. 

'Crying won't get you anywhere, kid.'

If there was one thing about Keegan, he was absolutely right about everything. Including that. 

Pushing your head up from out of your lap, you sniffled, rubbing your nose as you catch a set of blue eyes staring at you. He was unlike anyone you had ever seen before, a mask covering his features, beanie atop his head as he approaches you, kicking a stone beside you. You turn your head away from him and watch as the little rock rolls down the edge of the hill in the direction of the track. 

'You were supposed to be asleep an hour ago,' he adds, taking a seat beside you. You keep your eyes trained on the direction the stone had slipped, keeping your arms wrapped around your knees before resting your chin upon them. 'You'd get into trouble if one of the superiors caught you outside.'

'I'm no good anyway,' you said, 'better going out this way than any other way.'

Your tone was bleak as you contemplated throwing yourself down the hill. It wouldn't have killed you, but it would free you from the shame of having to speak to the man sitting beside you. 'They're gonna get rid of me soon, throw me to the wolves.'

There wasn't a reply from the man sitting beside you for a while as he shifted where he was sitting. You hear the tear of velcro and finally decided to turn your head to see him holding a box of cigarettes in his hand.

'When I was first starting out,' he began, 'couldn't shoot a sniper for the fuckin' life of me,' he continued, plucking a cigarette from the carton. Bringing his hand up, he hooked his fingers under the edges of his mask, pulling it up, revealing his jaw and lips. 

Much to your surprise, you spied black stubble around his mouth and trailing his jawline. Placing a cigarette between his lips, he grabbed the lighter from the box. Cupping his hand around his mouth, It took a moment, the item in his hand spluttering before eventually spitting a full enough flame for him to light his cigarette. 'I could shoot every other gun okayish, but I wasn't the asset they needed me to be.'

'Don't believe you,' you mumble, looking at the pattern on his mask. You recalled the white markings to belong to a particular unit that even the General had trouble addressing. They did their own thing, stayed out of everyone else's way. 'You're a Ghost, aren't you? Best of the best.'

You don't look at a Ghost unless they talk to you. 

'The mask?' he asked, 'part of the branding, forget I have it on half the time,' he admits, taking a puff from his cigarette. 'Everyone has to start somewhere, kid.'

'I've been here for months and I'm still awful at everything,' you confessed, 'I can't shoot a gun for the fuckin' life of me; my aim is off and I can never seem to focus.'

'If you think about it too much, you'll struggle,' he said. 

'A- And, I can't do close combat- I've been to the infirmary more times than I can count... whenever I go to the nurse now, she doesn't even speak to me,' you rambled, running your hand through your hair. Your throat starts to clog up as you continued to pour your heart out to the man sitting beside you. You couldn't really seem to help it; he was there, and from what you could tell, he wasn't discouraging your fury.

Rules had it that your hair was supposed to be slicked back out of your face and tied up, but after the day you had had, you couldn't muster the strength to keep it tied up. So, after you had had a shower, you kept it out to keep the dull ache in your head away for as long as you could.

You were surprised the man beside you hadn't said anything to you about it. Only, when it's out of your way, you found it easier to keep your hands from plucking and picking at your scalp whenever the anxiety got too much and you were scared you were going to drown in a well of your own tears.

'You're too stressed about everything,' he said, 'if you overthink it, like I said, you're gonna fuck it up. What's got you so stressed, kid?' he asked, looking at you. Your eyes water as you turn your head away from him, letting out a shaky exhale. 

A better question would have been what wasn't stressing you out. 

'Hey, don't shut down on me, tell me what's wrong... can't promise I'll be much help, but it's good to have someone to talk to,'  he said, 'talk at me, tell me what's wrong,' he demanded, as though he was some form of saviour.

Only, in that moment, he was.

'They're gonna throw me out if I can't be what they want me to be,' you were much too choked up to fight against the urge of spilling your guts to the Ghost, your grip around your knees growing tighter as you began to shake. 'And I can't go back out there; if I go back out there, 'm gonna die, I know I am,' you sniffled, 'a- and I can't die, especially not out there with those monsters I can't but I'm going to if I don't get better but I don't think I can get better and- and—'

A firm hand was placed on your shoulder, his arm wrapping around you as he pulled you to his side.

You were startled at first, feeling his gloved hand on your shoulder, being pulled close enough for your senses to be flooded with his cologne. Ghost's weren't supposed to be like this, they were supposed to be aloof, transparent, careless. Yet, as he held you, you found your trembling nerves were soothed with his efforts.

The cigarette on his breath stained the moment, and when you opened your eyes, you found that he had tossed the cigarette down the same hill that the little rock he had kicked had rolled down, the red hue of the burning tip settling into the darkness while winking at you.

'You're not gonna get thrown out, kid,' he quietly said, 'it's been a tough change, I know it has been, but you can't let it get to you because, if you do, the stress is gonna kill you before anything beyond this base gets to you, hm?' he asked, looking at you.

You looked back at him, thinking back to that morning where you had pulled out a small clump of hair from the your head. You'd spent the next hour crying over it, and whittled yourself so far down that you'd convinced yourself you were going to die.

Everything lead to the thought of death with you. You couldn't escape it. The devil caged you and he trapped you, laughing in your face as he dangled your very livelihood before you.

And still you failed.

'How do you know that?' you asked, 'you think some sort of miracles going to happen?' you continued.

'I'm going to teach you,' he said, 'I'll give you a helping hand; wanna see if you're as useless as you're saying you are or if you're just overcomplicating everything.'

'You don't have the time to do that, at this point I'm gonna be 90 but the time I manage to land a hit on someone in training.'

'And how do you know that?' he asked, 'you my Captain?'

You stared at him, the sudden shift in his tone causing your face to heat up.

'You'd be wasting you time with me,' you said, shaking your head, attempting to pull away from him, all for his grip on you to tighten.

He wasn't going to let you pull away from him, especially while in the state you were in. You'd curse him if you didn't feel so secure in his arms, so, you simply give in to the urge of staying close to him, not allowing your ego to destroy the first ounce of comfort you had gotten since arriving on the base.

'Wasting time here with you now; could be in bed,' he stated simply, 'I'll speak to someone, get you put under my supervision until I'm sure you'll be fine returning to your brigade.'

'Are you allowed to do that?' you asked.

'Captains in your department barely look at me, kid,' he chuckled, ''scared I'm gonna bash the brains in with the butt of my gun or somethin'. They won't turn down my request- especially if you're as much as a burden as you're sayin' you are; they'd be happy to get you off their hands if that's the case, not that they'd refuse me in the first place.'

He spoke to you as though you were a friend, but you regarded his support as treating you most likely as a lesson; the men your department had little interest in showing a woman how to fight, perhaps that was why you were struggling so much. No one really wanted to give you the time of day, and in a path where it was either sink or swim, you found their actions were taxing.

It was blatant that the men you worked with had little interest in you, and you're clued up enough now to know that. Yet, deep down, you're sure you've always been conscious to their biases towards male soldiers, only, now, you say it without fear of being reprimanded for your supposed 'accusation'. They can't do shit to you anymore and you're thankful for it, because, in the end, if they even look in your direction, you'd have no issue bashing their brains in with the butt of the pistol in the holster on your thigh.

Recently, you find you've been going back to that night where you had been in tears, mostly while by yourself, whether it be at the base or elsewhere, you were focused on that pesky little memory which lead to your stomach pulsing in a sickly manner as you recall the feel of his hand resting on your shoulder and the smell of his cologne.

Little has changed- if anything.

Only, he's a little taller than he was when you first started training together. His height has him towering over you now, and you always laugh about it to yourself whenever your sparring with each other- especially when you're able to put him on his ass.

There's confusion surrounding the memory in your mind, you have mostly forgotten about it until one day, it reappeared. You're unsure what triggered the memories resurgence, and you review it with a sinful glint in your eyes, even with the lack of suggestiveness about the scene.

There's something there that makes you want to scream, that makes you want to cover the world in blood, and you have been fighting with yourself attempting to unwind the memory, unwrap the secrecy of its meaning which it is rejoicing in while you're suffering.

—

The next op leads you to No Mans Land, Elias has sent his sons there with the intent of helping you track down Ajax. You're familiar with the tactics and intent between sending his two boys out there, though none of you really comment or acknowledge the possibility of your squad growing with two members, and supposedly a dog. You're happy to do the work he assigned his boys with yourself; it would be nothing but a quick in and out, especially with the looming time between Ajax's kidnapping and where you find yourself right now.

It's been weeks and you're still no closer to getting him back and you find, while peering through your scope, searching for any sign of the Walker boys, you're gritting your teeth as you contemplate the damage it's doing to Keegan. Both of them are good friends, been together since day one.

But there's nothing you can do; one wrong move and Ajax will be gone forever, and you're not selfish enough to put the life of a friend on the line. You'd put yours on the line before you even dare to put someone else's out for your own greedy intent.

The Federation are like dogs, and as soon as they catch a whiff of Ghost blood, they'll have their feral little backs up, huffing, puffing and growing, impersonating that of a wolf, when, in reality, they're nothing of the sorts. Instead, the puny little pups who cower at the sight of their own shadow... or Rorke. But neither of them are very different from one another.

'You catch anything, kid?' Keegan calls through coms.

Looking down from your position, you catch the man standing below you, Merrick surveying the surrounding area as you hold your sniper up, keeping your eyes on the terrain surrounding you.

You're a fair distance away from where the Walker boys were sent by Elias, ensuring the area is clean for when they eventually make their way to the meet up spot.

'Negative,' you respond, pulling your scope away from your face, 'clear,' you say, 'they're all hauled up at the camp the Walker boys are goin' to- that's my bet anyway,' you say, hooking your arm through the strap on your sniper, carefully making your way down from the tree.

Setting on a curve in the tree, you look down at the ground, shuffling off while keeping hold of a branch. With a grunt, you push yourself off of it, landing on the ground with ease.

'Stalker-Six, this is Viking Actual, we are en route to the target location, how copy?' you perk your ears up, while you busy yourself with grabbing your canteen off of your belt, frowning when you're greeted with a distinct lightness. During the walk up to the scope point, you're quite sure you were only sipping at it. 'We are en route to target location location, how copy?'

A step closer to getting Ajax back.

Hooking you canteen back onto your vest, you lift your head to see Keegan holding his own out to you, 'you drink like it's goin' out of fuckin' fashion, kid,' he remarks, letting go of it as you grab it out of his hands. Unscrewing the lid, he watches you, 'just don't finish it all; can't drink any of the water around here and we don't know how long they're going to be.'

'Solid copy, viking,' Merrick responds, 'be advised, recent reports indicate a lot of enemy movement in that area. We're on a schedule here, so get that intel and get out fast,' he continues. Both you and Keegan listen, and you take two sips of water from his canteen with his narrowed gaze on you before relenting, giving him the bottle back. 'See?'

'Roger that.'

'You're the one with an empty canteen, princess,' he answers, snatching it off of you, putting it back onto his belt. 'We best continue to move up from this position; we're too far out to meet them,' he says, looking to Merrick who hums, 'we're clear to proceed—'

He's crudely cut off by a distant rumble, the shudder resulting in the wind picking up pace, a crows cried out in the distance.

The collateral damage done to the world since ODIN was ripped from the States has been catastrophic, and every now and again, you observe your surroundings with a reservation set for when you make it back to the base; you don't have time to contemplate and wallow in your sorrows, rather, you simply have to get on with it, just as Keegan does as he opens his mouth to speak again.

'Whole place is gonna be swallowed soon,' he sighs, turning to look down the path.

Merrick proceeds forward without another word, intent on keeping on the schedule he has planned out since hearing word from Elias requesting you're there to meet the boys for the information.

Keegan takes a small step before stopping looking over his shoulder at you, 'c'mon, kid, burning daylight,' he says, motioning his head in the direction of Merrick who has already began to trail the path down, 'and water too,' he chuckles, picking up the pace.

It takes a moment to realise why he's suddenly hot on his feet, his sudden shift in mood causing your heart to murmur as you finally see some form of happiness on his face.

You're a second away from smiling at him, and then his comment strikes you like a blunt blade and you grumble out a curse, following after the two men with a huffing breath and curse

—

'Stalker Six, we got something here, looks like they're digging through some sort of wreckage.'

After a few minutes of silence and trivesing through the remains of the wild life in the rotting area, you're greeted with the voice of the same Walker boy who has been doing all the talking.

You're familiar with his name, Hesh. Although, as you're walking beside Keegan, you find the name of the other one escapes you. It doesn't help that he certainly is not one for words.

The comment he makes has all three of you sharing a look, unable to muster any form of response. Despite the urge to speak, you remain quiet, watching as Merrick's brow furrows, rubbing his masked mouth with his hand. 'What do you mean? What kind of wreckage?'

It could be anything and you've learned, over the years, that nothing should surprise you anymore. Hell, even if aliens greet the remnants of Earth tomorrow, you're convinced you'll barely bat an eye to it; it's simply just another day on the job.

'Not sure. It's guarded, but we're gonna push through.'

It's good to know the boys share the same determination as their father, though, the mysterious wreckage works to cause your brow to wrinkle as you contemplate what exactly they're up to now. 'Do they ever have a fuckin' off day?' you ask.

'Negative,' Merrick retorts, 'enemy always has to be doin' something, was the same in the Second World War and it's the same in this one too. You let the enemy loose for a moment of shut eye, they'll dig your grave and put you in it by the time you wake up again,' he continues, his tone gruff as you watch his back.

It's difficult to miss the gunshots the further the Walker boys push into No Man's Land, and you find your hand hovering about the pistol in your holster just to make sure nothing and no one will pounce on you.

While proceeding to the meet up spot, you busy yourself with the thought of Merrick's words, while keeping a watchful eye out for any signs of moment. Nothing is going to get past you, and if it does, you're thankful you have the watchful eye of Keegan located at your side.

It's difficult to even think of him never being as capable as he is today, and when you glance at him, you find your mind falling back to the night once again.

There's something in your chest that flutters at the thought of his care towards you from the night you met all away to right in this moment; Keegan always has your back.

And you always have his... only because of his training, of course.

He catches your look almost immediately and you catch his face shifting beneath his mask.

'What?' he asks, 'something on my face?' he asks, clearly amused.

You say nothing for a moment, looking in Merrick's direction to see the man is a fair distance away from the pair of you.

'You remember how we met, right?' you ask, to which he nods his head, keeping his eyes surveying the area. 'When we met, you said you were a shit shot and—'

You stop when you catch Merrick looking at Keegan with a raised eyebrow. Typically, the man kept his nose out of the conversations the pair of you have; there's nothing in there for him to really understand, only bothering to join the debate when it is of importance.

In fact, he remarked that, before meeting you, Keegan was quiet- and he still is, in your humble opinion, yet, apparently his short and witty replies to your comments render all the Ghosts shocked.

The pair of them share a look, and you catch it. It's subtle, you'll give them that, but it's notable enough for you to let out a short laugh.

'What?' you slowly say.

Keegan takes a breath, turning his attention to you. He's grinning beneath the mask.

'You wanna know the truth?' he asks.

Your eyes narrow.

'What truth?'

'I lied to you when we first met,' he says.

It's as though a bullet is fired into your stomach as you look at the man in front of you. He's unmoved by his confession, carrying on as though he has said nothing to you.

'You lied to me? About what?' you ask.

Maybe it was about the fact that he really wanted to take you under his wing, maybe he was full of shit about that- what if it was a funny dare or something? You'd take the pistol out of the holster and blow your brains out if such is the case.

His calmness is insulting as he looks at you.

'Saying I was a shit shot, I'm a liar,' he says, and despite the match, you can see him smiling under it, 'was one of the best in my squad, that's how I got the attention of Elias in the first place.'

'W- Why would you lie about that?' you ask.

Your entire life seems to be a lie in a moment of overdramatic reflection.

'Because you looked like you needed someone to relate to,' he shrugs, as though it's something that means little. 'I didn't want to make you feel like you had no one there,' he says, 'the people in the squad you were in when I met were unforgiving to you, kid; they expected perfection from the minute you joined and you were capable of that because you need help and—'

'I needed you,' you state, not caring for any excuse he'd muster up.

Beneath his mask, you note the smile on his face as he nods his head.

'You said it yourself,' he chuckles.

'Didn't think you'd risk your own price to do somethin' nice,' Merrick butts in, 'suppose you did the right thing though, got one of the strongest fighters on our squad through a lie.'

Your cheeks redden at the compliment and you rub your face with your gloved hand.

'Was all worth it in the end,' Keegan shrugs.

As you push forward, per the command of Merrick, your heartbeat is ringing in your ears- it's pathetic really; you feel like a fucking high schooler as your thoughts are swarmed with the very thought that, even upon meeting you, he cared enough about you to lie to you.

You know him well enough to know that despite his quiet nature in the face of opposition and those who he doesn't know, he's a prideful man and he takes pride in his work and abilities. His confidence, while at times annoying, is something you wouldn't change in the world. His confidence keeps you alive and his confidence is the very reason you're standing beside him and fighting beside him.

After a while of silence, you look at him and nudge him with your elbow.

'Thanks for lying to me,' you say.

'You're welcome,' he answers, looking at you, 'all you needed to have was a little bit a of help- somethin' they weren't ever going to give you.'

'Why did you even approach me in the first place?'

He turns away from you for a moment, sucking in a breath. That glowing confidence seems to disappear for a moment, but after a brief second of collecting himself, he turns back to you.

'I thought you were pretty.'

You're winded, and not by the walk.

'I was a crying, snotty mess,' you blurt out, to which he rolls his eyes.

'I'd seen you around the base, and you only started crying when I starting talking to you properly. But, even if you're a crying snotty mess or not, it doesn't matter to me, kid,' he says, 'you looked pretty.'

You bite your lip, turning away from him. Unfortunately, you lack what he has in abundance. He doesn't say anything further as the you proceed to the meeting spot, instead, he slips his hand into yours, tightly squeezing it.

It's short and brief as he soon lets go at the sound of a barking dogs, although, before the pair of you jump back into action, you both offer. each other a knowing look as you prepare to paint the world red; you know his eyes are on you.

We'll talk about this later.

TAGS: (If you would like to be added to the tag list let me know!) @forever-twenty-two-years-old @iizx7y @phantomreadsandreblogs

[objection-zero]

What if I showed you guys my Hetalia OCs for the 50 states that I've been working on for the past 2 months?

👀👀

Delaware:

- Overly stressed all the time, he has a complex where he needs to feel important. So he opts to do work that would normally fall on the other 49 so he can seem important to them.

- He's the busyman of Delmarva, he gets everything squared away.

- He has the biggest, most effective puppy dog eyes in the world. They're just big and sad and it's hard to say no!

Pennsylvania:

- Very active, has a gym in her home for sure even though she prefers to go outside and work out.

- She and Delaware are very close, as the first two states they became good friends (and New Jersey!). She does her best to protect Delaware when she can.

- Very straightforward, she doesn't mess around. You always know what to expect from her.

New Jersey:

- Loud. So very loud. Always wearing gaudy makeup and unappealing clothing.

- She's very loyal as a friend though–her and New York hang out constantly, with half of their time dedicated to debating something or other loud enough for everyone around them to hear.

- She and New York have been in a battle over the ownership of the Statue of Liberty for a long time. Since the statue is technically on an island that belongs to her, but New York will not give it up. She owns the gift shop.

Georgia:

- One of my favorite states, I love her and her design very dearly.

- I like to think of her as a Mary Sue type, where she's always busy and has an overwhelming amount of work to handle, but she does it all so easily and so effectively that you'd never guess how much she does.

- Also, she owns a peach orchid absolutely.

Connecticut:

- "Um, actually—🤓👆" embodied.

- Everyone is sick of how entitled he is, because he acts like he's so much more intelligent than everyone.

- Which is funny because he is really really smart, but still not as smart as he pretends to act.

- He's one of the only states that's friends with Ohio.

Massachusetts:

- Do not utter the word "revolution" around this man or he will go nuts.

- Very quick to act, very quick to anger. He likes to set things on fire—he always carries a lighter on him— and argue. If he ever came face to face with England, it would probably go very badly.

- He despises tea, to the point he physically cannot drink it.

Maryland:

- The mediator of Delmarva, this man is the master of solving problems. He's the sweetest.

- Also, the best chef in the country aside from Louisiana and I cannot stress that enough. You know this man has a BIG kitchen in his house.

South Carolina:

- The bimbo of the country okay.

- I just love the idea of her being so determined to be a farmer, but struggling so much because she's just not designed to be a farmer. But she won't give up even though she probably should.

- She's good friends with Georgia but her and North Carolina definitely have a rivalry going on.

New Hampshire:

- Can this man calm down? Please?

- He basically bounces off the walls, definitely has ADHD, and always down to do somethint stupid.

- He spends a good portion of his time bugging Vermont because she's easy to annoy. New Hampshire and Vermont are very close though. The siblings ever.

Virginia:

- I had to make one of them emo okay.

- She's the confident leader of Delmarva for sure. As the first state colonized, she's got a good heart for leadership. She's the state that works the closest with America directly.

- Despite being emo, she's very sweet.

Ahhh Image limit. Check repost for the other states!

[poetryvampire]

Just curious but how do you think Zevlor would feel about his gn s/o asking him to spank them over his knee! Please tell me thoughts if you don't mind!

OOOH ANON!

that's so tasty. I think I touched a little on Zevlor spanking once before but I would looove to do it some more cause daddy Zevlor turns my brain to soup 🫠 🥵🔥

✨️Nsft✨️

● You definitely did the right thing deciding to just ask him. There's no way he would get there on his own. It's not that he hasn't done it before or isn't into it- the man was a hellrider, he's done a lot of things perhaps a story for another day- he's just so smitten with you he hates the idea of introducing something that may make you uncomfortable.

●The words are barely out of your mouth when Zevlor feels the rush straight to his cock. Deep down he's thrilled, the very idea of seeing you squirming over his lap has his heart pounding. However he's going to make sure you two take it slow, expect a whole conversation about wants and limits. He'll take everything you say very seriously, but you can tell by how much his tail moves he's super excited.

●When the time comes Zevlor's more nervous than anything. As always he sets too high expectations for himself. He wants to be good for you and not hurt you by accident or overwhelm you. Give him some sweet kisses and reassuring words of how badly you want this and he'll warm up quick.

● Zevlor sits on the edge of the bed, eyes full of adoration as you strip for him. He won't make a move until you're standing fully naked between his legs, blushing as he praises your body. Suddenly he moves you over his knee and wraps his tail tightly around your waist holding you in place. His hands are massaging you all over, grabbing handfuls of your flesh, savoring the feel.

● You're practically purring when you feel the first swat. He gives you a few light ones, clearly holding back. Before long you're whining for more, arching your back but to no avail. Zevlor wants to build you up slow, wants to make you shiver as he rakes his nails over your ass and thighs (possibly his favourite parts of you- not that he could ever choose).

● You can feel the heat in your skin as the strikes become harder, leaving behind a delightful sting. Zevlor keeps you guessing as he moves between slaps, pinches and soothing caresses. He's drinking in your every involuntary jerk of your hips, the bounce of your firm ass under his hand. The intoxicating sight being the only thing keeping him from mounting you immediately. The paladin may even lightly tease you; ask if you can really handle what you asked for. Of course you bag him not to stop.

●And oooh the pet names. Zevlor's praising you like mad letting you know just how good you're being for him. He calls so many sweet names. My pet, my beauty, sweetling, little dove, angel, beloved. His words matched with the low, lusty rumble of his voice made your head swim.

● You're addicted to the feeling. Even as his hand comes down faster, harder, ripping a series of gasps and moans from your lips, you're so desperate to be good. Just as you feel it may be too much Zevlor's hand is between your legs, softly tracing your arousal. The intense shift of touch makes your whole body shake, if he wasn't holding you so tight you would have fallen for sure.

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" Zevlor breathes gently manipulating your sex, a smile in his voice.

"So are you." you grind your hips against his erection, drawing a deep groan from him.

"Do you want to keep being good for me, sweetling?" Zevlor says into your skin, peppering your shoulder with kisses.

"Gods yes." you wiggle your hips.

He hums in approval as he moves his hand away from you and raises it poised to strike. "Now, I want you to count for me."

[deathbxnny]

hello!! platonic wriothesley with a teen!reader who was a member of beret society, like reacting to dougier torturing the reader more than the adults in the society (because they would be more rebellious towards dougier, as teens/kids are more rebelious)

Ooh I really love this idea, Anon!!! Thank you very much for the request and I hope you'll like this!<33

Content: Reader is a teen, platonic relationships, vague mentions of torture, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, father figure Wriothesley, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!!

((Not proofread))

Oh boy, it's a miracle if Dougier gets out of this one alive, that's for sure. It's one thing for him to torture grown prisoners, but a child too? Wriothesley truly didn't expect it to anger him the way it did and yet, his rage is silent and only shown by him being more violent with Dougier's capture than he normally would've already been.

You're immideatly taken to the infirmary for a thorough check-up on his orders, and Sigewinne makes sure to soothe you as you cry in pain from your injuries and fear. Wriothesley keeps his distance at first, thinking you need some time for yourself to cope and process all that happened to you through the kind nurse.

Eventually you are asked into his office. He knows it would definitely overwhelm you, but alas, he makes sure you are comfortable. You don't have to speak about it if you don't want to and so it turns into a daily "gossiping" session in-between you instead. An unlikely friendship/mentorship being formed as well.

He takes you under his wing, silently promising that nothing will get to you now that he's here. He may not be able to undo all the pain and trauma, but he will make sure you won't ever have to endure such agony ever again.

He shares his tea with you and cracks jokes whenever he feels that you're mentally sinking again. Over time, he hopes that he'll be able to help you out with the limited resources he has down here. And seeing you smile ever so slightly at his words makes the hard work worth it.

Okayyy! I hope that was fine for you, Anon! And thank you again for the request!!<33

[trashytrashsblog]

So I want to make a rant or idk just give my opinion (?) about MCL:NG since seven episodes have passed.

I actually started writing it after the fifth episode but I abandoned it in the drafts... so lol.

I know that there is a section on the forum about it but my english is too bad and I need to curse. Also I'd like to comment freely with other players.

So let's get started!

The website is really cool and different it's like fresh air, sometimes is a little bit overwhelming (like the colours) nonetheless I like it. I don't get why there isn't italian in the languages, maybe we are less than I imagined.

The calendar is a cute idea but all the pop-ups when you collect the things instead of one are so annoying. Hope they make it into ONE single pop-up. Also when you get the jokers and they last three days and you can't or have nothing to play... like useless? okay? thanks?

The currencies? Don't let me started.... I get it, the game needs money to run but for fuck sake too many and poorly set. I can't get over the fact that I have to use APs for buying shit, every time I use them I feel bad because then I fear I won't have enough for the upcoming episode. Miss gold valute :(

The daily limited offer idk, I think it is a little bit too expensive for what it provides, especially considering that we can’t even choose the color scheme. Also, it doesn’t make sense to have a daily offer that you pay for when all the packs appear everytime. Although I read from some user on the forum that certain packs don't appear, dunno why. Anyways why don't you display all of them?

I have the same problem, like everyone, with the messages and the hearts. Hope they create a button where we can send and collect the hearts all at once. However I don't like so much the limited daily hearts. The graphics are very pretty though, and the messages we receive from the flirts at the end of the episode are a delight for me.

The minigames are more interactive compared to the MCL ones but I also have mixed feelings. The daily missions are a cute idea for collecting fashion items or forniture. Hope they add gems or something similar to find OR could the tickets buy other things that might be more useful like jokers. The Style contest could have been ten times nicer if it didn’t penalize you for not choosing the most popular outfit, which happens to be the one with more exclusive items. So it leads you to choose not what you prefer but what hypothetically everyone would choose. Recently I read about it from other players here on tumblr bc it's actually a bit ridiculous to see podiums all the same.

The wardrobe..... confusing as hell. Why there are items that I can't even try.... frustrating. At first I tought that the merged shop was a bad thing but now I changed my mind because this way I can see how the clothes go with the ones I already have. Speaking about graphics, I like them, I like the possibility of editing the room, Taki is a cute little accessory. The personalization choices of the character is satisfying but I miss the gray eyes they were my favourite :c Also I noticed that the expressions with the mouth open seem weird, as if there is something wrong in the proportins. But maybe it’s just me. I think there are less basic free items already present in comparison to MCL like moles, eyebrows, a little makeup...

Everything every single things brings me to a point were I feel the urge to buy packs, vips just for regular things (I don't know how to explain it) unlike the old games were it was funnier to buy special items.... now it seems like I'm buying base items beyond the extravagant ones.

The game dynamics left me perplexed at first, but I think I will have to get used to it. It’s a continuous and infinite expenditure of AP. Getting used to paying 2 AP for each answer was already difficult, but now having to pay even 40/80/120 aps… It makes me so mad... in italian I would say vafanguuul!!! The fact that i don't have the lov'o meter on sight I don't like it either and it seems that it only updates at the end of the episode and not in between or maybe I am wrong idk. Being able to relive the special moments however is a nice gem, especially after paying them. The briefing after finishing the episode is fun. Another thing that drives me MAD is having to buy the outfit after having already paid to fucking unlock it. At least give me the unlocked color???

BUT the illustrations, the story, the characters and their design ( god bless chinomiko) make me continue the game because it would be a lie to say that the story didn’t catch me (Jason Mendal I'm all yours and I wanna know everything about you) even tho the episodes are a little slow, maybe because we are just at the beginnig...expecting drama, fun time and some serious topics too...

And that's it, for now ahahahah xb

[unforgivenn]

SHACKLED BY ROYALTY

#11: NEVER AGAIN

Previous/ Masterlist

CW: captivity, pet whump, slavery, threats, manipulation, gaslighting, hopelessness, very angsty

Noah sat quietly in the room, the weight of the silence heavy upon him. His pale skin seemed to take an almost ghostly hue in that weak light, his hands clasped tight on his knees seeming to hold onto dear life for him to put himself together. His breathing was labored, invisible chains bounding him closer with every fiber in his being to Andrey's whims. The bruises and marks lining his arms and neck, which told their silent tale of captivity, were now old news.

It was Andrey who finally broke the silence as he entered the room, his predatory calmness sending shivers down Noah's spine. He didn't look in Noah's direction right away but stared somewhere afar, plunged in thought, before moving those ice-cold eyes onto him.

"Noah," he said, his voice low and even, so smooth it was almost gentle. Almost. "There's something you need to understand.

Noah's head jerked up, and in an instant , his hazel eyes darkened with wariness and pain. The urge to talk overwhelmed him-to scream, to beg for answers but his throat seemed to tighten leaving the words imprisoned in his mind.

"You can no longer talk to Damian."

The words hit Noah like a blow, settling in with their meaning, like a slow and aching dread. His eyes widened, hurt flashing in them, but he knew better than to ask, to push. He had learned what happened when he dared question Andrey.

"What..?" It was little more than a whisper, but a desperate fear etched into his voice. What little hope he had carried within himself that he and Damian would somehow come out of this nightmare together, finally flickered out in the darkness.

Andrey smiled without one speck of pity or regret in the curve of his lips. "You really want to know why?" He leaned closer, his face inches from Noah's, the hot breath dancing across Noah's cheek, too sweet. "Because Damian doesn't deserve to have you.”

Noah swallowed hard, the taste of bile slicing sharp in the back of his throat. He would have protested, would have defended Damian, but words twisted in his throat as fear wrung his gut tight. Andrey's hand found his chin, jerking his head up to force his gaze to meet his. His fingers dug into Noah's jaw, just enough to send a warning.

"Listen, slave. Damian made his choice. And I made mine. He wanted to defy me, and now he is paying for it." The words were a whisper, each statement imbued with venomous intent, certainty of ownership. "And you will, too, if you ever even think of trying to get in touch with him."

Terror swelled inside Noah, Andrey's words clearly driving home the truth: to him, Noah was a marionette whose strings had been pulled, hanging helplessly at Andrey's mercy, his will slowly breaking with every cruel, depraved game.

"And here I thought that you would at least be relieved to finally know your dear friend's. still alive," Andrey replied mockingly and crouching to Noah's height.

Noah's face set, with his jaws knitted as if holding back a scream, clenched his fists. "Why..?" he finally whispered, voice cracking. "Why is this being done..?"

"Because, Noah, there are lessons that people like Damian need to learn. And there are... limits that people like you need to know."

A chill ran down Noah's back, freezing him from the inside out; the weight of Andrey's gaze seemed to crush the air from his lungs, and his stomach twisted. Andrey leaned forward, resting a gloved hand on Noah's shoulder with mock comfort; the grip, however, was more like a clamp.

"I cannot have the two of you getting any ideas," Andrey snarled in a low, venomous voice. "From now on, you will never speak to Damian again. You won't see him, you won't hear his voice- he does not exist for you anymore."

Noah's heart sank, horror stretching out across his chest. "No, please..." he whispered, his voice tortured; he didn't realize he'd spoken aloud until Andrey's grip on him clamped down hard enough to hurt, and Noah flinched.

"Please?" Andrey mocked the flicker of humor in his eyes alive with it. "Is that all you can say after everything I have done for you?

Noah's mind raced, clutching at anything that might help. "Andre- I mean sir,, please, he's been through enough. You've already. you've made your point, haven't you..?"

Andrey smiled, but his face darkened. "My point," he said, spitting out as if with the edge of a blade, "will come across when Damian realizes he is not a hero, he's not some savior for you. He's nothing but a pawn."

Then hit him the words, like a blow to the gut. He wanted to scream out that Damian was worth more than any of them, that Damian was the only reason for which he continued to cling to hope in this hell. Still, he knew such protest would do but feed Andrey's sick desire for control. Pain was swallowed up into anger; his teeth shook while biting down on the scream that battled its way up his throat.

"'Please… don't do this. You don't understand, he's-he's all I have. Just let me see him one last time,'" Noah's voice finally cracked, the desperation now bleeding openly through his words. "I'll stay. I won't… I won't try to escape. Just-"

A rough laugh cut him off, the coolness of the tone sending a shiver down his spine.

"You don't understand, Noah." Andrey leaned closer, his voice dipping lower, cold as ice. "I don't want you to ever see him again."

The subsequent silence was a brutal acknowledgment, a heavy cloak to lay on Noah's shoulders. Seated, yet not going, in Andrey's clutches, cold, expressionless eyes beheld no hopes for his predicament-no mercy, no hint of understanding. There was only control: raw and unbending.

He finally turned to leave, and in that second, Noah felt the crushing silence close in around him, the feel of complete and total isolation, like a weight upon his chest.

Andrey turned back, smirking once more as he paused in the doorway.

"Oh, and Noah?" he said, soft, low, but venom dripping from it. "If I even think you've tried to reach Damian, that you've whispered his name in the dark, when you think nobody's listening, I'll make him pay the price for it. And trust me, it will be far worse than what you've heard."

The door slammed shut behind him, plunging Noah into dim suffocating quiet.

His legs buckled, and he sank down on the floor, fingers digging into his hair trying not to scream. The silence of the room weighed upon him-or perhaps that was just because it made the emptiness stretching before him so much bigger, a desolation in which he vanished utterly.

There's no Damian anymore. Noah's fingers snared, dug deep into his hair, and a strangled cry ripped past his lips. The pain inside him became too much to bear-a physical pain tearing through his chest, hollowing him out. He wanted to scream and tear at the walls, somehow bridge this impossible distance now lying between him and the only person who had ever understood him.

Damian was gone. Forever. And it was his fault. If only he had been stronger, smarter, more defiant. Blame Twisted inside of him as if some kind of parasite, deeper and deeper until it was all he felt, all he breathed.

His mind filled with memories of how Damian used to smile, how he used to laugh, or how he would stand by Noah's side. How many times had Damian saved him? How many times had he risked everything just to stand alongside him? But Noah had betrayed him, goddamn failed him, and now the only one in all his life he had ever been able to trust, the only one who had ever really understood him, was lost.

The silence became oppressive, weighing upon him with the seeming burden of tons of concrete. He felt as if he could almost feel Damian floating in the room-a ghost in absentia-rending him speechless with what he had lost and what he would never regain. Every nook, every shade jeered at him, silent pitiless witness of defeat.

Noah's fists bunched, nails digging into his palm, but he did not feel the searing pain. His chest felt clutched, constricted as though he was drowning in an ocean of misery that had no bottom.

He fell onto the floor, his head on the concrete, overcome with sorrow, with remorse, with the fact that now he would never see Damian's face, never hear his voice, feel his warmth beside him. Andrey took everything from him, tore out his heart, and left only emptiness and a groaning void.

And still, the shadows loomed around him, pressing in, mocking his helplessness.

Reblogs are appreciated <3

Taglist: @miireux134/ @nuriiz134/ @noeul-whumpsss/ @morning-star-whump/ @parasitebunny/ @anutz1234/ @whatwasmyprevioususername/ @whumped-by-glitter/ @lordcatwich/ @someoneoninternettt/ @natthebatt/ @noeul-whumpppssssss1234/

@electrons2006/ @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees/ @lolrpop/ @yassifiedinformation @ay5ksal(let me know if you want to be added or removed :D)

[bericas]

gifset commissions for e-sims for gaza

Hello! I am officially opening up a commission form to raise donations for Palestine. While I may change where these donations will go per round, for this first round, all proceeds will go to buying e-sims for Gaza through @/connectinghumanity_ on Instagram.

As this is an urgent situation, I will only be taking requests for gifsets from Teen Wolf (to be posted on bericas) or Yellowjackets (to be posted on yellowjackets-1996), as these are the shows I know the best and will be able to gif quickest. 

How the commission process will work:

I hope to have multiple rounds; each round will only have 4 slots, with a minimum donation amount of 10 dollars per slot

As this is a fundraiser, I will not be limiting how many can be submitted a person, but each request you submit will have to be submitted separately and paid for separately

The commission form is set to automatically close after it receives 4 submissions; if this includes a submission I choose not to accept, I’ll delete it so the form reopens and I’ll post that a slot has been reopened 

I ran a poll to decide how donating the money would work; the results of this poll is that I will collect the proceeds and then post proof of donation. This process will go something like this:

No money will be sent to me until you receive proof I’ve started giffing your request

This proof will be a screenshot of the first completed gif

After receiving this, you’ll donate a minimum of 10 dollars to my ko-fi

For this first round, for transparency and proof of legitimacy, I’ll be buying an e-sim for every two donations received and posting proof. This is because the app I’m familiar is with Holafly, where the cheapest option is $19. Going forward, I plan to donate it at once, after all 4 gifsets are completed.

Click anywhere in this sentence for a link to the commission form!

Please reblog this post to help spread the word!! Thank you!!

To make this post less overwhelming on the dash, rules for requests are below the cut!

Again, as this is a fundraiser, please keep requests as simple as possible, meaning only using footage from the source material 

(ex–a rarepair with little/no screentime will be accepted if I can make use of the canon footage; a request for an au that can use canon footage may be accepted if I think I can get it done quickly enough; any using outside footage will not be accepted)

For Teen Wolf requests: I won't gif Kate Argent in general, I won't gif St*rek in general, and I won’t gif any “taboo” topics like age gaps or incest. I also won’t gif any anti-Scott content, any anti-Deaton content, or really generally anything I think has racist connotations, which should be obvious

For clarity: I will gif Derek and the teens (excluding just Derek and Stiles) as long as it’s clearly platonic/”familial” in nature! 

For Yellowjackets request: again, I won’t gif “taboo” topics like age gaps or incest, but I will gif things that are clearly platonic or familial in nature

(ex–I won’t gif a romantic request for Ben/Travis, but I will gif one with platonic/familial/generally non-romantic themes)

[juni-aldaine123]

YOUR NAME/ tgswiiwagaa ; ayamitsu

✎ based on this: https://twitter.com/krititit/status/1780736593130869080

・❥・oneshot . fluff . oneshot . canon universe . canon compliant . the green yuri manga

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

At the first signs of the evening fading into the night, Mitsuki realised that it was time to close the shop. There had been many customers today as new albums had arrived this morning, but now that their limited stocks of deluxe editions had dwindled the onslaught of clients had decreased too. They could open up earlier than usual tomorrow, if need be.

"Need a hand, Koga-san?" she heard Aya's cheery voice.

"I'll appreciate it Oosawa-san!" she called back, and went about tidying the shop. Her uncle had left it in her care for the evening as he had to go somewhere, no doubt on an impromptu date, with Kanna-san.

She guided Aya with the boxes and where she ought to place them and began sweeping the floors. Aya, now familiar with the shop, got out one of the deluxe edition CDs of the latest album of Linkin Park- Papercuts- and set it in the music player system. It had been long since she last heard a Linkin Park creation. Soon the sounds of metal clashing could be heard in the air as Aya was jamming with the music, singing her heart out.

"What do you think Koga-san? Isn't their new album so cool?!" Mitsuki could feel Aya's excitement embracing her, really, that girl's laughter was infectious, and before Mitsuki had a chance to supress her own share of giggles Aya started making exaggerating movements- like strumming the chords of a guitar in thin air, hammering a drum, and playing the notes of an electronic keyboard- and soon peals of laughter wouldn't stop slipping past Mitsuki's lips.

"Oh- oh my god- What are you doing Aya!" Mitsuki couldn't keep her chuckles at bay, but when she saw how Aya had stilled into a statue and was staring at her with an unreadable gaze she willed herself to stop. Only then did she realise the abruptness of predicament she'd landed them both into.

"I- Oosawa- Oosawa-san. I didn't mean to-" And hurt flashed past Aya's eyes for a split second that Mitsuki might've thought she had imagined had she not been looking at her.

"I mean- I shouldn't have called you by your- your first name," she clarified, but Aya still looked upset at her admission. "Without your permission," she finished and saw Aya considerably relax at that knowledge. Mitsuki wondered how closely had she been staring at Aya that she even knew when the girl was feeling upset and when she'd felt assured, but she tried not to let it bother her too much. Now her primary concern was to make sure Aya didn't misunderstand her intentions.

"It's a force of habit you see. Onii-san?" she said helplessly, hoping that Aya would get the hint and soon enough recognition dawned on her face.

"Ah yes. As Onii-san you called me Aya. Not Oosawa." 'And I wish you'd never stopped calling me Aya,' remained unspoken.

"I don't mind. Not at all." she smiled, though, Mitsuki noticed, it didn't reach her eyes like it always did.

"In fact-" Aya made her way towards her and Mitsuki steeled herself for what was about to come next. "We've been friends for quite a while, no? It is only right that we call each other by our first names now. What do you say….Mit-suki?" Aya hesitated, playing with the syllables of Mitsuki's name and liking the way they sounded in her voice. Mitsuki might've liked it too, if she considered the way the ravenette kept glancing between her lips and eyes.

"So Aya-san-"

"Just Aya please." She shook her head in mock admonition. She'd long since wanted to go past the boundaries of formalities but held back because she hoped Mitsuki would make the first move. Now that Mitsuki had broken the barrier Aya won't hold back her feelings. Though she would never overwhelm the other girl. Her happiness was what she wanted the most over everything else, even the call of her name. She cautiously tried to gauge her reaction and when Mitsuki didn't seem uncomfortable at the prospect of a new sense of familiarity between them let out a silent sigh of gratitude.

"Your name, it sounds nice."

"When you say it? Yeah, it does." The song had finished but neither Aya nor Mitsuki realised, too lost in each other's eyes.

"That's not what I-" Mitsuki was the first to break eye contact, but Aya quickly placed herself back under Mitsuki's attention. Her earnest gaze broke the last of Mitsuki's defences.

"You're right. Maybe we should've said it sooner."