#just remembered an artist I followed getting dragged

[latenightreadingpdf]

Knock on the Door - Spencer Reid

₊‧⁺˖⋆ Masterlist ���˖⁺‧₊

Summary: In the midst of an intense investigation, Spencer and Derek bring you into protective custody after a disturbing discovery links you to their case. As you navigate the unexpected situation, Spencer’s calm presence offers reassurance, sparking an unexpected connection amid the chaos.

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The quiet street was a far cry from the usual high-stakes BAU scene, but the tension in the air made Spencer’s skin prickle with unease. He glanced at Derek, who was already preparing to knock on another door, exuding his usual calm confidence.

"This one could be a lead," Derek muttered, showing a slight glint of hope in his eyes as he raised his hand to knock. The case had been dragging on, and frustration was growing with each unanswered question.

When the door opened, Spencer noted the faint hint of confusion in your expression. Derek immediately flashed his badge, his tone respectful but firm. "Ma’am, I'm Agent Derek Morgan. This is my colleague, Dr. Spencer Reid. We’re with the FBI."

Your eyes darted between the two of them, registering the serious expressions they wore. "The FBI? What's going on?"

"Have you had any strangers come to your door recently trying to sell you something?"

A flicker of recognition passed over your face, and Spencer leaned in, catching the shift. "Actually, yes,” you said, brows furrowing. “A guy came by yesterday… He gave me his card.”

Spencer and Derek shared a look. "Do you still have that card?" Spencer asked, trying to keep the urgency out of his voice.

"Yeah, I think so. Let me grab it." You turned back into the house, leaving the door partially open, and returned a moment later with a card in hand. As Derek took it from you, he confirmed with a nod that it matched the cards left at the other crime scenes.

You looked between them, anxiety creeping into your voice. "What is going on? Who is this guy?"

Spencer’s voice softened, his gaze meeting yours directly. "We believe he's a dangerous criminal who may be responsible for several recent homicides. His method involves gaining entry to homes under false pretenses."

Your face paled as the weight of his words sank in. Derek placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "We need to take you back to the station to make sure you’re safe. There are some steps we’d like to take to ensure you’re protected while we gather more information."

"Safe? Is he going to try and kill me?"

Derek’s expression turned serious. "We have reason to believe he might try to come back, and it’s important we get ahead of him."

A sense of dread settled over you as you let their words sink in. You followed them to the car, feeling your stomach twist with a mix of fear and disbelief. As you settled into the backseat, Spencer turned to give you a reassuring nod.

“Just so you know,” he began, his tone gentle, “we’ll have officers posted near your home to ensure he doesn’t have the chance to get in. We’re taking every precaution.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just… a lot.”

“Understandable,” Spencer said, glancing at you with a sympathetic look. “We’ll also have you meet with a sketch artist and undergo a cognitive interview. It’s standard procedure, and it might help us learn more about him.”

You looked out the window, processing the reality of the situation. The quiet chatter between Derek and Spencer drifted over you as they discussed possible motives, patterns, and theories. But for now, you were too lost in your own thoughts to make out their words.

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When you arrived at the station, Spencer took a moment to walk you through the cognitive interview process. "It’s designed to help you remember specific details," he explained, his voice calm and assuring. "It might feel intense, but I’ll be with you the whole time."

You nodded, glancing around the bustling police station, feeling a strange mix of curiosity and adrenaline. "Okay, so… I just answer questions, and you’ll be able to get a clearer picture of this guy?"

Spencer gave you a small smile. "Pretty much. Think of it as helping us paint a portrait. Every detail, no matter how small, could be useful."

The interview went smoothly; Spencer’s presence was patient and encouraging, never making you feel pressured to remember something you couldn’t. Afterward, he led you to a small break room, offering you a seat at a worn table with a coffee machine humming nearby.

A few minutes later, Spencer returned with two steaming cups, handing one to you. "Here," he said, "it's not gourmet, but it’ll keep us awake."

You took it gratefully, feeling a sense of normalcy settle in. "Thanks, Spencer." You sipped the coffee, savoring the warmth. "I didn’t expect to spend my afternoon in an FBI station, but… it’s definitely more interesting than my usual routine."

Spencer chuckled, seeming surprised by your laid-back attitude. "Most people aren’t as calm in situations like this."

You shrugged, feeling the weight of the situation but refusing to let it get the best of you. "I don’t know. I figure, if I’m in good hands, there’s no point in freaking out."

As you chatted, Spencer filled you in on some of the behavioral profiling techniques they used, giving you a peek into the mind of the BAU. His eyes lit up as he explained the ways they’d been analyzing the unsub’s behavior to find any possible patterns, and you found yourself genuinely interested, asking questions and absorbing his answers.

"Do you ever wonder why people do these things?" you asked thoughtfully, watching him as he considered your question.

"All the time," Spencer replied, his voice softening as he looked down at his coffee. "But there’s rarely a straightforward answer. The best we can do is study the behaviors and try to make sense of them. Hopefully, it helps us stop them."

A sense of respect grew in you as he spoke, and you found yourself admiring the dedication he had for his work. "That sounds exhausting. Important, but exhausting."

"It can be," he admitted, his gaze meeting yours. "But it’s worth it, especially when it means keeping someone safe. Like now."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his sincerity. "Well, I guess I’m lucky you guys were around."

The door to the break room opened, and Derek poked his head in, giving Spencer a grin. "You two doing all right in here?"

Spencer nodded, standing up to update Derek on the details you’d given during the interview. As they talked, you finished your coffee, feeling a strange sense of calm despite the unusual circumstances.

When Derek turned his attention to you, his gaze softened. "We’re going to have a team set up around your house tonight, keeping a close eye on things. We’ll catch this guy if he shows up."

You nodded, feeling reassured. "Thanks, Agent Morgan. I know you guys are handling it, so I’ll let you do your thing."

Spencer glanced back at you with a small smile. "If you need anything, or have more questions, just let me know."

As they walked you to the main desk, Spencer looked back, his gaze soft. "We'll keep you safe," he assured you once more, his sincerity unmistakable. "Until then, try not to worry. We’re on it."

A small smile tugged at your lips as you nodded. "I trust you," you replied, giving them one last grateful look before they escorted you to a waiting area. And as you waited, you felt a sense of calm, knowing you weren’t facing this alone.

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[balarai]

I really hate callout culture... Like really fuckn hate it.

People seem to take the worst possible take on a post and then drag more people into their little mob through anon and then use trivial fandom bullshit to justify death threats and hazing. And the fact that the mob uses ANON most of the time to spread their claims just rubs me the wrong way...

It's usually people who have been built up on a pedestal in some way... Either for their creative skills/work or for their opinions/ social skills. Idk it honestly feels like people LOOK for reasons to tear someone down, or make false claims to try and build an us vs them mentally.

The target likes a ship with teenagers?? Or with a 5 year age gap?? Obviously a pedophile and pervert. The target likes a character we have deemed problematic? They're an abuse apologist!! (looking at you problematic SU fandom, you know what you did). Target made a post that mentioned some that could be problematic if you squint and shift 5 dimensions to the left, obviously they are dangerously misinformed and actively harmful!!

There is a reason we as a society have the justice system and we don't follow mob mentality. If you don't like someone, block their social media and move on with your life. If they are actually harming someone, like actual abuse not petty fandom drama, then go through the appropriate channels but for fuck sake don't think hazing and cancel culture is the appropriate way to handle things.

[akaashislover1]

How I think the jjk guys would join you in the shower…..

Yuji Itadori, Choso Kamo, Megumi Fushiguro, Takuma Ino [EVERYONE IS AGED UP TO THE PROPER AGE]

Yuji Itadori

He probably would bang at the door(which you’d have locked for reasons to follow) pleading that he’d have to pee.

“Go use the bathroom downstairs!” You yelled over the running water. Funny how he suddenly had to pee as soon as you started the shower.

“Please, baby, I gotta piss if I take one more step I’m gonna wet my pants!” He frantically exclaimed, trying the door handle.

“No, you’ll just make me late. Again.”

It was quiet. No begging, knocking. Nothing.

You sighed as you reached behind the shower curtain to unlock the door.

“Quick, get in here before I change my mind.”

Choso Kamo

You had undressed and jumped into the shower, the hot water welcoming you in.

“I also have to have a shower before we go to.” Choso politely urged you.

You peeked your head out of the curtain and looked at him brushing his teeth.

“Why don’t you just get in here now?”

Choso coughed on a bit of toothpaste. His hair was slicked back by one of your makeup headbands.

His face was so flushed but pale at the same time.

“W-what?! But you’re in the-”

“Cho. We just had sex last night, why are you acting like you’ve never seen me before?” You laughed and choso felt his face turn red in embarrassment.

Suddenly you dragged him into the shower before he could even take off his boxers.

He had his eyes closed respectfully.

“How are you gonna wash me up if your eyes are closed?” You asked and he opened one eye at a time.

When you gave him a smile he started to relax.

He took a moment to take the view of you in.

His throat lumped up in a knot as you passed him the soap.

Maybe he should’ve started showering with you sooner.

Megumi Fushiguro

He probably would already be in the shower.

“Can I join you?” You would ask him as you peeked through the shower curtain.

Megumi let out a breathy chuckle as he made eye contact with you.

“No, all you’ll do is try to fool around. We gotta meet Itadori and Gojo in an hour.”

You gave your boyfriend a stare and a scoff in an attempt to make him feel bad for you.

It didn’t work until you began to speak.

“Fine I guess I’ll just to take a nice long shower. By myself. Good thing that one has got an amazing shower hea-”

“Get in here.”

Takuma Ino

“Hey, babe! Please come in here quick! Hurry! It’s an emergency!” You screamed from the shower.

A few seconds later you heard the quick rumble of his footsteps.

The door opened and revealed to Ino’s eyes you lying perfectly fine soaking in the tub.

“Are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt?” He asked out of breath.

You nodded your head no but a pout made its way to your face.

“The water is too cold without you.”

Ini rolled his eyes playfully,

“I can see the steam coming from the water, you liar.”

You shook your head no as Ino kept his eyes contact with you.

“Remember when I asked if you wanted to join me when I had a shower and you said no? Remember that babe?”

“This is different! It’s a bath. A shower is so quick and you hog all the water! Don’t you wanna soak with me?”

Ino gulped the nervous rock that was stuck in his throat as he thought about your bodies soaking in the tub.

Sighing, he answered, “Fine, but I am still offended from earlier.”

Woohoo!!🎉 I actually really like this one I think it’s pretty cute!!

Might make a part 2 with some other fine ass jjk men. 🩵🩵

Link to part 2💜

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 CAUGHT IN BETWEEN kim chaewon & huh yunjin

prev. masterlist . next

🧋★ ͘ ⴰ JEALOUSY & LEADER DUTIES

“you’ve got to be kidding me.” is the first thing that yunjin said when the leader of lesserafim walked into the car sitting right between her and yn with a smile on her face.

“what was that?” chaewon asked while she leaned against yn’s shoulder who was rubbing her eyes with a pink blanket wrapped around her from being woken up about 15 minutes ago.

“oh nothing.” yunjin says before taking a peek at yn who proceeds to put headphones on and turn up the volume of the music on her phone to the point that you can hear it through the headphones before closing her eyes and resting her head on chaewon’s shoulder.

yunjin clears her throat before looking at chaewon, “what are you doing here?” she asks as the car starts.

chaewon smiles, “what do you mean?” she asks innocently, “I’m supposed to be here, I’m the leader it’s my duty to accompany you guys to these things for support.”

yunjin narrows her eyes at chaewon’s obvious bullshit before turning her head and looking at the window, watching the rain fall, this is going to be a long morning.

chaewon eyes widened when she saw yn in the white dress, a smile made its way to her face only to be wiped off immediately when she sees the taller girl walking behind yn in a white dress as well.

she walks over to the two girls with a faux smile on her face, “you look so pretty!” she exclaimed gesturing towards the dresses. “you look like a princess.”

“I look like a ready to be wife.” chaewon's smile faltered, feeling a pang of jealousy that yunjin was the person that got to do something like this with yn.

it should be my wife.

“well, we should get to set.” yunjin says budding in on their moment, she smiles when chaewon gives her a sharp glare.

“oh yeah, let’s go.” yn says, she links her arm with chaewon’s as the girls walk together their manager’s following not too far behind, “I wish you were doing this with us, I love doing photoshoots with you, it reminds be of iz*one.”

chaewon smiles at yn’s words before looking behind to through yunjin a smile who just rolls her eyes and turns to their manager to start a conversation.

“remember when they paired us for everything? I miss that.” yn says smiling sadly at the memories, “now all they do is pair me with yunjin who’s my ready to be wife.” she jokes referring to their outfits.

it’s now chaewon’s turn to roll her eyes she looks behind to see yunjin smiling, ugh.

“honestly I wish the dress was pink, imagine a pink wedding dress?” yn rambles who chaewon who just looks at her with heart eyes as she rants.

“you should wear that to your wedding in the future.” she replies hopefully ours she thinks to herself.

“I’ve honestly never thought about a wedding.” yn says softly, “but the again when do I ever? the farthest I’ve thought is when I get my oscar.”

as they arrived at the set, yn and yunjin were greeted by the bustling activity of the photoshoot. makeup artists and stylists hurried around, putting the finishing touches on the set and the girls' outfits.

chaewon stood off to the side, her gaze shifting between yn and yunjin as they prepared for the photoshoot. she listened absently to the manager discussing their schedules for the next week, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of yn and yunjin.

both yunjin and yn are instructed to lay in the set of the flowers that compliment the dresses, yunjin makes a joke as they lay down which makes everyone laugh well everyone except for chaewon.

“it wasn’t that funny.” she says loud and clear causing everyone to laugh even more, the funny part is that she’s being dead serious.

as fast as the shoot started it ended even faster.

chaewon walked over to yn and yunjin patting both of their shoulders, she patted yunjin’s with more force causing the girl to flinch and rub her now sore shoulder.

“let’s go.” the leader says linking her arms with yn and walking towards the van

chaewon drags yn with her as they make their way into the van, chaewon grabs a blanket that was on the seat and places it over yn’s and her’s legs.

yunjin entered the van not to long after them, “fans are going to go crazy over this shoot.” she starts, pausing to look at yn and chaewon covered in the blanket, before flashing chaewon a smug smile.

“fans go crazy over anything.” chaewon says brushing off yunjin’s comment while looking at yn phone who scrolls through youtube before putting on her headphones probably intentionally tuning out everything around her.

yunjin called yn’s name and didn’t get a response, all she could hear was the blasting video coming from the girls phone, she internally smiled and immediately shot chaewon an accusing look, “okay you can throw away the innocent stuff, why did you come?”

chaewon side eyed yunjin and looked out the window, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“are you serious?” yunjin says, “when have you ever attended a photoshoot for leader duties, this was just another one of your ways to get between yn and I.”

yunjin’s last sentence almost had chaewon jumping over yn to tussle with the girl, “there’s nothing between you and yn to get in between.”

yunjin opens her mouth to respond but is cut short by chaewon’s rage, “are really stupid enough to think that you and yn have something? I’m embarrassed for you.”

yunjin tenses at the girls tone but doesn’t back down, “well we have to have something for a creative director to request for a shoot for wedding style dresses.” she responds back quickly only to flinch at chaewon’s laugh.

“do you really wanna play this game right now?” chaewon asks seriously, yunjin furrows her eyebrows because this is the most serious she’s seen the leader, “you may like yn, but your like for her will never amount to mine, you’ve had your fun but it’s time to back off.”

there’s silence for a second the only thing filling the van is the music from the radio and the sounds from the headphones, yunjin swallows thickly, “I will not back off, I’m not like all the other people you’ve scared away.”

this another few seconds of silence.

“okay.”

there was a chilling vibe to the leader’s words. yunjin should feel relieved at chaewon’s calm response to her own , so why does she feel nervous?

[always-just-red]

Hey, a fluff scenario for cuddling with Rafayel? Thank you 🐡✨

This one really got away from me ahaha, whoops. There's also a moment where my fine art degree really leaps out, so look forward to that, everyone. My first time writing for Raf - thank you anon!!

Perspective

Rafayel x Reader 🎨

Summary: You've spent two hours preparing a meal for Rafayel, and he has absolutely no intention of sitting down to it.

Genre: fluff fluff FLUFF!

Warnings/Additional tags: established relationship, cuddling, kisses, lots of intimacy tbh (soft, not spicy!)

| Word count: 2k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Thirty minutes. You and Thomas had spent thirty minutes on the phone trying to figure out where your boyfriend actually was. Half an hour of he’s not with you? and no, I thought he was with you!— back and forth, like a metronome, and it wasn’t exactly the first time, either.

You’re seasoned investigators at this point: called constantly out of retirement for one last job you swear you’re too old for, and yet you know is never going to really be the last. You’ve already got matching t-shirts printed for the tortured agent’s next birthday: ‘Special Unit: Find Rafayel.’ (He won’t find it half as funny as you do.)

Neither of you had heard from the artist since Tuesday, and— it being Friday— he was either in his studio, painting, or definitely dead. It fell within your jurisdiction to find out, so you’d driven here two hours ago, texting Thomas upon arriving:

He's alive!! 🥳🥳🥳

You’re less excited about it now.

Stood at Rafayel’s kitchen island, you lay out the last of the buffet you’ve prepared to try to entice him away from his art. It’s worked in the past: has seen him sniff the air and follow his stomach to whatever you were cooking, like a stubborn stray cat.

“C’mon, Raf,” you call out, because he’s not taking the bait. “Food’s getting cold.”

“Not hungry!”

Your fists ball around the cutlery you’re setting down on the marble; he’s not eaten for three days. You glance up at him across the open space of his home, taking a deep breath through your nose as you watch him scrawl away at his painting. Somewhere in your mind, Thomas is speaking. This is what you signed up for, remember?

Reluctantly, you cross between the rooms, folding your arms as you come up behind Rafayel. “Raf,” you insist again, “come and sit down. Please? You need to eat something.”

“I’m fiiiiiine.” His paintbrush drags viridian over the lower third of his piece.

“You’re not fine,” you huff, and he doesn’t respond. “Rafayel.”

“Rafayel?” he mimics with a chuckle. “You’re mad.”

He’s ‘Rafayel’ in only two types of circumstance: when he’s making you really, really happy, or he’s making you consider the career-leap between bodyguard and assassin. It’s an extraordinarily thin line, and he just loves walking the tightrope.

“I’m not mad, just worried. Can’t you come eat with me? Your painting isn’t going anywhere.”

“It’s not,” he agrees, smoothing out a stroke of paint, “but what about my inspiration?”

“That’ll be waiting for you, too.”

“You think?” His lips curve as he pensively pokes at them with the wooden end of his brush. “I guess you did spend a lot of time cooking, huh? And if you’re really that worried, then…” He spins around with wide eyes. An epiphany. “Feed it to me?”

You stare back, unmoved by the puppy-like expression. He looks cute, yeah, but you’re not falling for it again. This is exactly how he looked earlier, when you’d convinced him to at least accept a glass of water. You’d almost drowned him in your subsequent efforts to actually get it down his throat.

Rafayel mixes three colours on his palette as you relive the ordeal. Like the once-white of his shirt, it’s awash with vibrant greens and blues, some fresh, some days-old. He pauses when he’s done, but you can tell he’s itching to get back to the canvas. “Give me, like… half an hour?” he estimates. The number’s been plucked from thin air. “The food’s gonna be delicious, even if it’s cold. You made it!”

“Raf, I—”

“And how can I even enjoy it if I’m racing to get back here? I wanna savour it, y’know? And anyway…” he trails off, his attention drawn by something above.

“Yeah?” you prompt, glancing upwards. There’s nothing there.

His gaze snaps back. “Sorry, the ceiling was doing something weird. But yeah, anyway, it’s not like you have to— I mean, it’s not like I’m going to— wait. What were we talking about again?”

Not much surprises you these days, but your mouth is still agape. Enough is enough. “Put the paintbrush down. You’re done.”

He nonchalantly returns to the painting. “I’m really not, though.”

You narrow your eyes. Reassess. “You were right about the ceiling.”

“Yeah?” He looks up.

You snatch the paintbrush. “Ha!”

He blinks blankly at you and your eagerly-clutched trophy, unfazed by the moment of triumph. “Cute trick,” he shrugs. He runs a finger across the palette and applies the new colour to the painting with a quick sweep. “What’s next, Miss Bodyguard? You gonna cut off my ha— ow, ow, ow! Hey! Take it easy!”

You’re pinching his ear, dragging him wordlessly to the kitchen, because you're out of things to say.

“Fine. Fine!” he groans as he tries to keep up with you. You release him and he straightens, his face pink, but not as pink as his ear. “You win! Let’s just get this over with, yeah?”

You stop dead in your tracks, then turn with a look so cold he couldn’t melt it with all of his fire.

“I mean— ahaha,” he laughs nervously, rubbing his neck. “It smells amazing, cutie. You’re amazing. I can’t wait.”

…

Rafayel sits back on his stool, still staring at his painting. The mood is different from earlier. There’s no more restlessness or impatience; he isn’t in a rush. He’s humming a soft song you’re almost certain you’ve heard before, but you can’t quite place the melody. It’s pretty, though: the sort of tune one might recall from a childhood music box, or maybe even a dream.

There’s a clink as you stack two finished plates. Then another. And another.

“Don’t,” Rafayel says quietly, catching your hand before you can collect the plate nearest to him. “I’ll do it later— promise. Sit with me?”

You were never going to say no, but his hands are on your hips before you can say yes, and he’s turning you gently— pulling you up onto his lap. You smile as his arms wrap around you, keeping you from slipping, and he’s warm as you relax back against him.

“What do you think?” he asks, staring out over your shoulder.

Your gaze follows his to the painting, still waiting for him. “It’s okay.”

“Oh yeah?” You can feel him chuckle before it reaches your ears.

“Yeah,” you confirm with a smile, shifting to face him as much as you can. “Kinda pales in comparison to my favourite masterpiece. This one,” you poke two fingers to his chest. “Right… about—” they walk higher, “—here!”

You boop his nose and he immediately scoffs, his face going red. “Sheesh,” he mumbles, unable to meet your eyes. “That was lame.”

“You’re blushing.”

“Am not!”

He squirms as you laugh and try to touch his cheeks; they’re going to feel hot, and he’s a sore loser. His hands don’t manage to capture yours, so they settle for finding your hips again, swivelling you around until you’re trapped by his embrace. You’re both one misjudged move away from toppling to the floor, so you let him keep his victory. What’s left of his dignity, too.  

Your laughter rescinds like a tide, but the quiet is far from empty.

“C’mon,” Rafayel tries again. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, nudging your head, urging you to look forward. His hair is feather-soft on your skin, and he peppers chaste kisses along the line of your jaw. “Tell me. What do you see?”  

You hum contentedly. “A painting.” You’re not thinking about it at all; your eyes are closed.

“And?”

“A plant. A sofa. Some curtains,” you recall.

“You know what I meant,” he grins against you.

You lean back with a sigh, no longer supporting your own weight, but sinking into him with trust and begrudging compliance. It’s not bad, as surrenders go. He gives you a squeeze of encouragement and your head rolls back, stopping at his shoulder. His breath is skirting over your cheek, just barely.

You open your eyes and really look at the painting.

“It’s beautiful, Raf,” you murmur. It is; it was always going to be. “Everything you do is beautiful.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he chuckles, “I know.” But he wants more. “Does it make you think of something, maybe? Anything?”

There’s no right or specific answer. This isn’t remotely your field of expertise, and you’re oceans apart sometimes, so he has to outstretch a hand. Two viewpoints. Two sides of a coin; you never should have seen each-other.

Your life is hunting monsters, and his is finding beauty in a world where they exist. It’s not what you see, it’s how you see it. Crimson to him is a sunset; to you it’s blood.  

Something in you aches as your eyes roam over his latest work. He won’t tell you what it’s meant to be, not really: that’s a private understanding between him and the canvas, his heart and every stroke of paint. Does it make you think of something? Though the marks are fixed, they’re somehow fluid. The emerald tones are marred by shadows, as though something’s lurking beneath the surface, but there are traces of white, too. Light: shimmering.

“Reflections,” you finally answer. “Scattered to anonymity by a now turbulent lake. They belonged to something else, once, but they’ve taken a new shape— a restless and ever-changing identity— and no-one knows what it is, let alone what it was.”

With a satisfied smile, you close your eyes. That ought to keep him quiet for a minute.

Sure enough, Rafayel is silent. You don’t have to see his crystalline eyes to know they’re set on the painting, soaking it in with a new perspective. His favourite perspective: yours.

You have never been strangers to each-other. Two sides of a coin are still the same coin.

With a light laugh of surprise, he plants a kiss on your shoulder. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For taking care of me.” He’s nuzzling into you again. “I know I can be—”

“A pain in the ass?”

He laughs louder. “I was gonna say eccentric.”

“Oh…” You draw air through your teeth. “Yeah. That’s what I meant.”

Your voice is humourless, your face plain. It lasts all of two seconds, and then the charade is falling to pieces; he’s nibbling at your ear, your neck, and it tickles mercilessly. You giggle, but you don’t try to escape. The punishment fits the crime, and who are you to deny him his justice?

You’re quickly running out of breath, so Rafayel ceases his assault, letting you get it back. “Can I look at you now?” you ask.

He clicks his tongue. “I’ll allow it.”

You shift and he lifts you a little— helping you twist around to face him. He smiles fondly as he links his hands behind you, stopping you from falling as you lean back to enjoy the view. It’s the best kind of smile: one that reaches his eyes and makes them sparkle, like the water in the painting, but infinitely more pretty.

You want to feel that smile on your lips, so you lean in and kiss him.

It’s tender and perfect and when you’re done, you snuggle closer, wrapping your arms around him and nestling like you’ll be staying there for a while. You can hear his heart, and though a part of it is in his painting, the rest is with you. Always with you.

“Shouldn’t you get back to your work?” you ask as you think of it, smiling into his shirt. He won’t— not tonight.

“Nah,” he says, running his fingers through your hair. “It can wait.”

[dejwrld]

summary — in which the neighbor becomes a bystander in an explicit window show by infamous artist geto suguru.

warning readers discretion is advised ⸻ female reader, female anatomy described, exhibitionism, oral (suguru receiving), masturbation (f.solo), drug usage/drug consumption (weed), voyeurism, artist!geto suguru, if you squint a lil bit–you may see hints of dom!suguru, takes place in the same verse of my rockstar!choso fic, minors do not interact

sticky note from deja — one of my babies that i hold close to my heart. a repost from my old blog—only the girlies who followed my blog 2 years ago remember this gem. completely ahead of its time.

The large window was something you had to get used to. You thought about putting curtains up, but you adored how the natural sunlight gleamed into your newest condo. Or the fact that you had a perfect view of the apartment across from you. You weren’t even aware that someone lived in the apartment until you were near the window and saw a male figure carrying art supplies. Your curious eyes squint to get a better look at the person, but you just couldn’t see that far.

As you ate dinner alone, you would find yourself peeping at the man across from you. He always seemed to be cooped up in his artwork. Rubbing his hands that were covered with paint onto his sweatpants or ripping a piece of paper out from his sketchbook. You found yourself wanting to get a closer look, intrigued to get a closer look at the mysterious man. So you brought a pair of binoculars. Cheeks burning in embarrassment as you realize you were a peeping Tom. How desperate could you be to invade a man’s privacy like this?

One evening when you were twisting and turning in your bed, you gave up trying to sleep. Your feet dragged across the wooden floors towards your kitchen to make your favorite tea that usually helped you fall asleep. As you walked by the huge window where the moon illuminated inside your place, your eyes nearly popped out of your head seeing the view. Your hands frantically picked up the binoculars as you looked directly towards the artist’s apartment. There he was sitting in one of his living room chairs, a rolled blunt in between his lips as another woman was in between his legs. Your heart pounded in your chest watching his fingers comb through his long jet black hair as the woman’s head bobbed up and down on his cock.

You kept mumbling to yourself that this felt so wrong. But your eyes couldn’t pry away from the sight. The way he inhaled and exhaled while a smoke cloud swirled above him as he held the rolled substance in his hand. His other hand was placed on the back of the woman’s head moving with her movements. He was enjoying the wonderful feeling of being on cloud nine due to the weed he was consuming and then being brought back down from his high due to a woman’s lips wrapped around his cock. You felt the growing heat in between your thighs as you put the binoculars down, your hands growing sweaty at the thought of what you just witnessed. You wanted to close your eyes and hopefully, when you opened, you were just hallucinating…dreaming maybe. High off the same thing, the artist was smoking. When you brought the binoculars back to your eyes, your heart seemed to drop in your chest. There he was, the artist giving you a sly wave. If you squint hard enough, you would even admit that he was giving you some cocky smirk.

He knew you were watching.

You watched through the binoculars as he gently nudged the woman off him. The woman’s face was covered with her own saliva as he gripped at her hair dragging her closer to the huge window just so you can get a better look. Your heart seemed to beat faster as you tugged one of your dining room chairs closer to the window, your thighs clamped shut to ignore the ache from your pussy that was begging for attention. As your eyes peeped through the binoculars once more, the woman continued to suck the artist off. His rolled blunt was in between his lips as he would toy with the woman’s brunette hair, eventually putting it in a ponytail to stop her saliva from colliding with her hair.

“Shit.” You muttered to yourself, the little things like that turned you on. You couldn’t help but play with the band of your pajama shorts. You were aware that if he knew you were watching, he could most likely see you.

You would put the binoculars down for a second as you tugged your shorts down. You stepped out of them letting them decorate your wooden floors as you sat back down in the chair you pulled up. Your eyes once again peeked through the binoculars once you picked them back up. The artist’s large hand was placed on the window keeping his balance from the sensational pleasure he was receiving.

Your eyes peered at the man as his head fell back in complete bliss. Seeing the way his hips thrust into the woman’s mouth caused your fingers to climb into your panties. Your fingers rubbed at your folds, shocked at the fact that just by being a peeping Tom, you’ve grown wet. Brain rotting with the thoughts of the artist in the other building as you massaged your own cunt, your other hand gripping at the binoculars to get a perfect view of the artist.

Your lips parted slightly to let out a soft whimper as your fingers made a circular motion on your clit that was begging to be touched. The sight of the artist getting a blowjob from another woman caused you to be soaked below if only you were the one whose lips were wrapped around his cock. The thought of it caused you to push two of your fingers inside to feel around your damp walls. Your fingers stroked eagerly to hit that one spot that caused your toes to curl up in pure bliss. Binoculars glued to your eyes as you watch the artist stare in your direction. A smirk on his face as he would quickly put the blunt he was smoking out. You watched as his muscles flex at each movement the brunette made on his dick. Your teeth grind against your lower lip as you remove your fingers from yourself. Your own wetness glistened your fingers that now were rubbing at your clit.

You watched as the artist’s hips thrust forward. The brunette on the floor grasped at the rug under her knees, trying to hold her balance due to the sudden aggression from the man in front of her. Saliva dripped on the floor and on the brunette’s lap as tears trickled down her cheeks. The actions you were viewing caused you to rub even faster; you could feel the heat pooling in the pit of your abdomen. You watched as the artist’s head fell back as the brunette-haired woman used her hands to massage his shaft. Mimicking his motions as your head also fell back and once again insert your fingers to push around your wet walls. Your imagination lets you wonder and wish that the artist’s fingers were inside you, edging you on bit by bit. A moan hitched from the back of your throat as your vision was getting blurry. The last sight through the binoculars you caught a glimpse of before you were pushed into your orgasm was the artist removing himself from the woman’s mouth. A mixture of his cum and the brunette’s saliva dripped off the artist’s cock.

The binoculars clattered to the ground once you felt your walls clutch around your fingers. Your chest rose up and down as you seemed to slump in the wooden chair you were sitting in. Sitting in your own pool of wetness, you could see that the artists had also finished up. The girl who was blowing him off was walking out of the living room to clean herself up, her face a sloppy mess as she licked her lips of any cum that spilled out her mouth. You quickly grabbed the binoculars, your cheeks steamed with embarrassment as you couldn’t even believe the action you’d just done. You see him staring right back at you when you peek through them to end your night. He had a grin on his face as he gave you a wave right before he turned his living room light off, most likely to go join the woman he just face-fucked.

You placed the binoculars down and started to clean the mess you made. Your mind is still racing due to the actions you just committed. It was such a new thing, and your friends wouldn’t even believe you if you told them what you did. You pushed the chair back into the dining space of your condo and eventually went to shower. Praying that the shower's steam would push out the thoughts of the artist living rent-free in your mind.

The following morning, you seemed to have dozed off on your living room couch last night. A fluffy blanket tugged on your body, and your television was on. As you sat up, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you seemed to begin remembering the following night's events. Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest as you jolted up, going towards the window. You couldn’t see the artist walking around his apartment, nor did you see the brunette woman that was wrapped around his cock. But you did see something. You grabbed your binoculars, peeping through them for one last time, and your lips parted to let out a scandalous gasp.

There stood in the living room, close to the large window that the artist once was using as support last night, a painting. A painting so explicit that it caused you to place your hand on your chest in disbelief. The painting was a painting of you last night. On the canvas was an explicit painting of you masturbating at the view of him. You couldn’t help but notice the details he put into his work, especially considering that you live in an apartment building across from his. He had to have such a vivid imagination to create such a piece.

And in the corner, you saw his signature in black paint.

Geto Suguru.

The artist’s name was Geto Suguru.

[voikiraz]

Lover ; sunoo 선우 .

Lovers . bf!sunoo x fem!reader w. None step ? #848 M.recordings ! [ sunoo ver is so adorable ]

Syn. Lover sunoo and actions he does that makes you fold every time

ꕤ sunoo would be one of those boyfriends that would act like your best friend a lot, and with that comes stuff like doing your hair for you even if it's just a simple ponytail, he loves to do it, you’d be brushing your hair and you’re used to putting it in a ponytail when you’re around the house, but since your amazing boyfriend is around, you will definitely ask him to do it for you, just to see his concentrated face.

"Sunoo" you called for him, sitting in front of your big mirror as you put on your skin care.

"Yes" he dragged out the word, still busy in the kitchen as he made some popcorn for your movie night.

"Can you help me tie my hair?" You entered the kitchen, standing in front of him and giving him a sheepish smile.

He just smiled back as he wiped his hand from any stuff on it before coming closer to you, "of course I can, love"

You gave him a hair tie with a lovely grin as you turned around.

You can't look at his face right now, but you definitely can imagine the look on his face, brows furrowed as he lightly holds your hair, you can't even feel his hands on you.

And just like that he was done, giving a little kiss to your cheek once he was done, and casually going back to what he was doing, leaving you staring at him in awe.

ꕤ i know for a fact he WILL do this.

You'll be having a normal convo while laying on bed and then he just screams, informing you that it's 11:11.

It was almost midnight, you were hanging out at your boyfriend's place and talking about the movie you watched a few days ago when his phone started ringing, he checked it like he normally would, then he let out a gasp.

You look at him with a confused face, then he blurts out.

"Omg y/n it's 11:11, we should make a wish" he says, a big smile on his face, then he closes his eyes for a few seconds, thinking of his wish as you copy his actions.

"What did you wish for" you ask him, and he frowns.

"This is the only thing I won't tell you," he replied.

"Hey that's not fair" you pout, and an endless childfight starts.

ꕤ he will definitely do your nails.

I can rest my case here but you're lucky I won't.

And he's like so good at doing ur nails as well.

Like date night was over and he's staying over at yours and you did your skincare together and had some snacks while watching some videos on YouTube.

Now what.

"Color." He says randomly "pick a random color" he says and you give him a what the fuck look, he almost snorts at that.

"Umm pink?" you say, sounding more like a question. You see him storm to your drawers and getting out some nail polishes.

He comes back to lay on his stomach on the bed, and you don't know how you trust him so much to let him apply nail polish on you, On The Bed.

But you still let him.

"Give me your hand" he says. You following along with a big smile.

You noticed that he definitely brought more than just pink, but you let him experiment on your nails, you always do anyways.

And best believe, he is the best nail artist you even worked with.

[ He lets you do his nails as well. ]

ꕤ sunoo is a busy man. Wbk. But he never fails to text you like all the time about anything and everything.

So expect voicemails ALL the time.

"Goodmorning love, I already went out for practise, but I made you breakfast it's covered on the kitchen counter, and please remember to take your vitamins and have your water bottle next to you, I know how forgetful you can be"

"Hi cutie, I might be out a little late, I missed you so much, words cant express it, please don't wait for me, go get your beauty sleep and you will find me next to you in the morning I promise"

"Hi y/n he chuckles my mom just said that she misses you very much and she wants you to visit again, I told her I would tell you when we meet but she insisted i tell you right now, I hope you're thinking about me sweetheart, I love you, text me okay?"

"Y/n omg I can not find my new sheet masks, please tell me you didn't already finish them, I'm desperately looking everywhere, and you're not picking up my calls, please text me back"

"I am so sorry for not replying to your messages earlier baby sigh I was just a little busy with my manager, the tour is stressful, but I'm coming home soon I promise, just coming back a little late, I love you a lot, mwah"

[allthelovenina]

Random headcanons of Levi Ackerman x reader

Warnings: none, afab reader

-How you two got closer?

When Farlan and Isabel passed away, he stood by their graves for a very long time in the rain. However, he wasn't alone there all the time but rather had someone by his side after a while. A soldier whose name he didn't clearly remember. He had met this person and had seen them a few times during the training and in the mess hall but never had a real interaction with her, however, he had already noticed her because she was just so clean. Her boots were always polished, and her clothes never had a stain on them, her hair was clean, and on top of all of that, she was the only one who dedicated time and energy to cleaning the place voluntarily. She put the flowers on their graves and stood in silence next to Levi as the raindrops were falling on her hair and her clothes were getting drenched.

She stood next to him in silence until he decided he had to go. He faced her. "You didn't have to." It was his way of thanking her, she assumed. "I want to give my comrades a proper goodbye. Plus, I...didn't want to leave you alone." She continued."Don't get it the wrong way, I know what it's like to...lose your loved ones. I assume you only had them, but...just so you know, you're not left alone in this world." Levi remained silent. In truth, he did appreciate her kindness. However, he was deep in thought about how scared he was from being left alone. He didn't mind being alone, but being left alone was a whole different story, and now it felt like she was bringing him out of that pit of agony. However, he was too overwhelmed to process anything. The next thing he knew was that he landed himself a few "friends" and perhaps a family, his squad and comrades.

How did he find out he had feelings for you?

As the days turned into weeks and weeks were poured into months, he found her presence warming. Despite the December leaves falling and the chill creeping into every corner of the HQ, he felt a little flare, warming up his heart every time he saw her smile. However, these feelings were so strange to him that he never acknowledged them.

It was December, the new year was just around the corner and the training was cancelled though to the harsh weather. Levi found it ridiculous. 'Soldiers must know how to survive in such weather.' Though the temperature was nothing new to him, since the underground was either too hot or too cold, the snow covering the field was something he had never seen. He sipped the hot tea as he watched the snow covered land.

"Levi!" It was her. He turned to the voice, somehow curious. "What is it?" She smiled, same flare warmed his chest up. "I wanna show you something. Come on now!" She grabbed his arm. "Hey! Let me finish my tea first." It was too late, he was already dragged to another room.

"Happy birthday!" Everyone screamed as she opened the door. "Happy birthday, Levi!" He stood there speechless for a moment or two, overwhelmed with everything he was processing, before he knew it a cake was brought close to his face with candles on it. "Make a wish!" Hange said loudly. He looked at you and he wished he hadn't. Cause that damn flare was now a burning fire in his chest. Did she always look like a painting by a famous artist, hanging on the walls of a museum in Wall Sina?

Damn it. This was not normal.

"Come on, Levi! Close your eyes and make a wish. Blow the candle once you made your wish." She instructed him and he followed. Once he blew his candle Hange asked him "What did you wish for?" His expression remained stoic "For this place to be clean one day." He lied, but it was believable enough. What he actually wished was for her to be happy and healthy all the time. He had one wish and spent it on her. "By the way..." he said "Thank you all. You didn't have to."

-How does he show his affection?

He doesn't. Or at least he desperately tries not to. But he can't have his new expensive tea which he bought from Trost District without her. She just has to try it. It gets on his nerves, but the tea doesn't feel right when he isn't having it with her.

His gaze softens when he speaks to her. His expression is less intense and if you listen really closely you can hear the small, tiny hint of joy and softness, the kind of tone which you hear when someone is talking to a baby. Of course, it's not obvious to anyone, even himself.

In the early days of confronting his feelings, he tried to distance himself from her. Perhaps it was a matter of attachment. If he escaped from her, maybe her presence wouldn't haunt him. Despite being successful at avoiding her physically, he could never escape from her. She lived in his mind rent-free.

One night, he tossed his legs as he tried to get some sleep, tonight, like the nights before, she was in his thoughts. He decided to get some fresh air. As he left the room, he saw her in the common kitchen, and he gasped. Not too loudly. She smirked "Did I scare you?" He frowned "No. What the hell are you doing at this hour in the kitchen?" She pouted, and his heart melted once again. "I couldn't sleep, duh."

He glanced for a moment and sighed. "Want some tea?" She smiled. "Yes please." As he started preparing the tea, she started speaking hesitantly. "Uhm...I wanna talk to you." He faces her with confusion. "Are you mad at me? Did I do anythig wrong?" Levi swore he heard her voice trembling "I mean...you've been really avoiding. I...just wanna apologize."

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.

He never meant to upset her, but there she was pouting and just so soft for him. His heart dropped, it came to him at that moment how selfish he had been. Never ever was he going to avoid her or do anything to make her look like this. Of course, she wasn't crying or anything but there was just something broken in her voice, a hint of sadness. Levi would've rather have his head rubbed in mod than seeing her like this.

"No, you did nothing wrong...I was just...didn't want to talk to anyone that's all, nothing personal." He grabbed the cups and poured some tea into them. "Here." He put the cup on the table.

Suffer, instead of seeing her suffer, cause that would be less painful.

[mugloversonly]

When I Grow Up

This is for the Steddie Holiday Drabble Popup Event. @steddieholidaydrabbles

Rating: G; WC:726

Steve double checked his pockets while he waited for Eddie and Amelia. It was a big day for the new family. Amelia was graduating kindergarten and she needed to be spectacular. She wanted them all to wear matching outfits, and she wanted to wear her hair the same way her papa did. So, naturally Eddie was a blubbering mess all week.

His disposable cameras were secured and he called up to the two divas. “Time to go or we’ll be late!”

“Coming!” Eddie yelled back wetly. Steve grabbed an extra pack of travel tissues and shoved them in his pocket. He loved his cry baby husband. Speak of the devil, he glanced over his shoulder to watch him come down the steps, and had to suppress a giggle. Eddie was carrying Amelia down with him and both of them were wearing the same thing as Steve: a black button down with dark gray jeans and a pink bow tie. She’d developed a love of dark colors recently, but she still loved her pink. But what got Steve the most, was the hair.

The two of them were sporting matching double dutch braids with plastic roses weaved in. There was an absurd amount of glitter in both their hair and a crazy amount of hair clips. It was obvious that they worked as a team, with Eddie doing the braids and Amelia the accessories. “Dad! You need glitter too!” Amelia shouted. He sighed and knelt down for her to sprinkle his hair with the glitter. “Now we all match!” She jumped out of Eddie’s arms and ran through the garage door and into the car. Steve and Eddie shared a kiss before they followed her.

~~~

They were sitting with the other parents of the kindergartners as they sang their end of year song. They even did a bit of sign language to go along with it. Next was the section where all the kids said what they wanted to be when they grew up.

There were Astronauts, fire fighters, singers, and one very ambitious kid who wanted to be a mermaid scientist. Whether that was studying mermaids or inventing them, Eddie couldn’t tell. But finally it was Amelia’s turn. Eddie took a deep breath, trying his best to stay dry eyed. Steve already handed him a bundle of tissues but he was determined not to use them. That all went out the window the second his little girl spoke.

“Amelia Munson, what do you want to be when you grow up?” Her teacher asked. She smiled and looked at her dads.

“I want to grow up to be a tattoo artist like my papa.” She said. Eddie’s hands flew to his mouth as he gasped. He looked at Steve out of the corner of his eye and saw him pulling out some more tissues before handing them over without a word. He grabbed them gratefully and dabbed at his eyes.

Steve smiled fondly and wrapped his arm around Eddie as he blubbered. The parents around them awed and a few of their parent friends glanced at the pair. Funnily enough, even though Eddie looked like a scary dog, all the parents knew he was a big cry baby when it came to Amelia.

Thinking back to her first day, Eddie remembered how he had cried harder than any of the moms that were there with their kids as the class made their way inside. Steve had to practically drag him away and he made him park across the street for over an hour until they left, “just in case she gets too sad and wants to come home, Steve.” Eddie explained.

If Amelia was sick, he was the one to come pick her up. Not because Steve didn’t care, but it was a lot easier for Eddie to drop everything since he owned the studio he tattooed in. A high school guidance counselor couldn’t exactly drop everything at a moment’s notice.

He knew they had a special bond, the two had a similar background and early childhood. But he never expected their bond to be so special she’d want to grow up to be just like him. The thought filled his heart to bursting.

He looked at Steve and whispered “we really need to get her a cat.” Steve rolled his eyes fondly.

“The puppy wasn’t enough?”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56184907

[kyoghurts]

♡₊˚ i love flowers (you.) ⠀ׂ ⠀ ͡꒱

𓈒 ˚ ⟡ : Flowers: Sweet smiles. Blooming cheeks. Growing feelings. Nurturing. Flourishing. Uncertain yet Exciting, so Eager, for whatever that comes next.

𓈒 ˚ ⟡ : There’s a time and place where, everything comes to a still, the quiet begins to engulf Chigiri and you— who teaches him your favorite language— flows upon him with such ease. As if its meant for him, as if its meant for you.

tags. chigiri hyoma/reader. fluff. 1.9k wc. forehead kisses. mentions of—well, flowers. pretty chigiri because he’s our princess forever. soft aaa fic. first love, late spring. NO angst /gen. trust me on this. no angst hehe you get all the fluff you need.

There’s a distinct look in chigiri’s eyes whenever he sees a flower. it’s presence never fails to ring your name in his mind, as if he’s under a spell that everytime he sees them, he will inevitably think of you.

A smile graces Chigiri’s lips, he doesn’t want to think of anyone or anything else but you, and maybe, the flowers are just an excuse for him to let you invade his mind—in a way that’s not intruding, inviting even.

He remembers the time between school breaks (all too well.) where he would plop himself beside you, the purposeful screeching of the chair as he drag it slowly and sit down, a smile that’s not really sweet but more annoying because he knows you value this moment of quiet, you don’t have it that much, and he’s definitely not making it easier for you. But you settle for a sigh in resignation and you leave it just that, with no protest or whatsoever, he doesn’t know why—but he thanks you internally that you hadn’t pushed him away so far.

The classroom is filled with nothing. Except for the two of you who rests well with silence, you’re seated near the window, the clear sky and slightly chilly breeze kisses chigiri’s skin just right. Ah, he likes this. Likes being near you and oh—he notices just now that you’re drawing something on your sketchpad the size of a notebook, the soft scraping sound of your pencil and your long, content breathing are the only thing he hears—his chest feels warm and light for all the right reasons.

You’re drawing a flower and the pressure of each stroke and lines are precise, chigiri is not an artist himself, but he’s aware that your hands are made to create. they’re graceful and beautiful, he thinks. but also powerful and creative. He likes to know what it feels like to tread his way into the empty spaces between your fingers, encase them with his and perhaps even kiss each of your knuckles—

“What’s your favorite flower?”

He blinks. stares wide like a deer caught in a headlight. “What?”

You don’t answer and instead, continue doing your work. He lets the question sink in for a while, and he scratches his head when his mind goes blank. “I don’t really have one…”

It sounds like a whisper but it’s not, your voice is just soft, more softer than he realized. You say, “Mm, too bad. I could draw your favorite here, beside this.” You tap your fingers at the flower, drawn by you and no one else, created by your artist hands alone and he’s torn—he had seen flowers and had even received one too many times from people who confessed their love for him, but his mind could not conjure up the feeling of the stem in his hands, how it smells or any memory he could fish out and reminisce.

He curses himself at that. He takes a good look at your clean sketch before asking, “is this your favorite?” when you hum in response, he follows up another question; why? What made you like them? Do you have any good memories with them?

Your lips curve and your eyes paint a color of happiness and nostalgia as you answer each of his questions with no sense of urgency, you talk slowly, but your expression is beaming with so many stories to tell. He listens, hand in his chin and nods off every now and then. He finds himself enraptured in the moment, the way you pause, your careful words, the adorable look in your gaze and—flowers, huh? realization kicks in, hits him in the spot so sweet that he grins, this is the first time he’s seen you like this, bubbling with excitement, talking about a thing you like, and its about flowers…

He needs to find his favorite flower soon.

ever since then, even a street flower he’d see on a random day could make his heart thrum in tender rhythms as your name whispers in his mind. your beaming face. your excited eyes. your lovely drawing. your soft voice.

And maybe it’s a little sheepish, because at one point he caught himself searching through lists of flowers on the internet, learn a bit more of your favorites (he didn’t know where to start, actually, but he’s trying.) He didn’t stop, and of course you noticed this. The way he would come up to you any chance he gets, even a simple greeting would make your cheeks flush, because he’s always…more flourishing when he’s with you. The lilt in his voice and your name melts in his lips so endearing, and then—the simple update: “I saw a flower today!”

‘It reminded me of you’ Those that he leaves unsaid are written in his looks—which, is plenty enough for you. Chigiri can conclude that as much, and he intends it to be that way. You swear the grin on his face is the cutest thing you’ve ever seen; you reflect one of your own.

‘Really? How sweet of you.’ You ruffle his hair and snicker. “Yeah? Tell me all about it.”

And he does. You think its the first time you had a smile so wide for a long while.

The feeling sits a little foreign to you, but you want it to stay. To nestle within you slowly and carefully.

This feeling— You want to nurture it.

In time, even you— would also tell him about your stories of flowers, that they remind you of him, too. Unspoken feelings and the language of flowers tying you together in the easy sea, taking you forward, he became something you look forward to everyday. In the morning, in his after practices, between breaks, late midnight calls — time is a precious thing, and you want to spend them with Chigiri as much as you can.

(Flowers: Sweet smiles. Blooming cheeks. Growing feelings. Nurturing. Flourishing. Uncertain yet Exciting, so Eager, for whatever that comes next.)

(There’s a time and place where, everything comes to a still, the quiet begins to engulf Chigiri and you— who teaches him your favorite language— flows upon him with such ease. As if its meant for him, as if its meant for you.)

Chigiri took you out on a date. Simple yet profound and special. One day full of first times and one day full of wishes for many times.

“I like your voice.” Chigiri admits in the middle of your rambling as he walks you back home, a little too breathy as if he’s not actually telling you this and you almost missed it. He clarifies, although similar to the level of quiet, he’s looking at you now in a way it makes your stomach does somersaults. “I wanna hear you talk about—something that you like, what makes you happy, drawing, and flowers— anything. I like your voice so much.”

You stop in your tracks and hesitate. It dawns upon you how beautiful Chigiri is bathed in the moonlight glow. He gave you lots of first, and you’re selfish enough to wish for more. But today, you will give just as much. So you say, breathy, “And I like talking to you, Chigiri. You make me happy.”

He smiles like he’s giving you the sun, when it’s cold out but everything feels so warm, he kisses your forehead, bids you goodnight and texts you that i got home safe, sleep well with your name beside a <3 heart, 37 mins after while you’re getting ready for bed, and that you had the first night to sleep so soundly.

One day full of first times and one day full of wishes for many times.

Eventually, wishes do come true.

───・・✦

(Chigiri can conclude, with a fair amount of certainty, that there exists a world where it is forever frozen in place. Suspended in that point in life. He watches them over and over and yes, it’s his favorite memory. And yes, its that little break in the empty classroom that doesn’t feel empty because you’re both occupying the space—as if it’s meant for him, as if it’s meant for you. It was around the early summers. Which he hadn’t paid much attention up until now—now, yes, two years after this memory, and it’s late spring already. Now, where he’s too occupied being yours and you being his.)

(Around early summer, he saw a flower that time, too.)

(Chigiri now concludes that, in late spring, it will be his favorite onwards.)

───・・✦

The tree you’re sitting against provides a shield of foliage as you sketch away. it’s nice out here, the kind that lets you exhale through your nose in relief along the whisper of breeze, the kind that promises you with blissful thoughts and oh, its quiet, so nice and quiet, you can hear your boyfriend’s slow breaths, and—like god’s favorite— is sleeping on your lap like a princess. your princess.

His hair is more or less scattered, some flowers that you plucked moments ago adorning it, like a river with flowers dancing around (you fixed your flower crown subconsciously), cherry pink strands obscuring half of his face and you carefully brush them away. its quiet when each inhale and exhale makes his chest rise and fall, its quiet when you stare at his long and lustrous lashes, the light that bounces off of them reflect into precious jewels that you want to keep. its quiet when you brush your knuckles along his cheekbones that somehow glow and somehow you can’t help but curse of the fact that he’s soft. how is he so damn soft?

its quiet, the kind that makes your chest feel warm and light (and for all the right reasons.) its quiet and peaceful and you know you shouldn’t disrupt it, he’s in a deep slumber, a place where time feels insignificant — you wonder what he’s dreaming about, a smile curling its way to your lips. you know you shouldn’t disturb, but you’re already setting your sketchpad, your pencil tucked, on your other side and manage to plant a gentle kiss on his forehead. its less than a habit and more of a communication.

“Hyo.” short, yet so important.

He twitches just slightly, and when he flutters his eyes open, all words stored in your throat has cease to exist. perhaps he sees it, your sudden pause as he lift his arm and his hand reaching to cup your cheek. quiet. sweet. patient.

“Again, please?” It takes you a few seconds to register, though his small pout tells you everything. Didn’t hear you the first time. Referring to the intimate way you called his name.

you say it again and there’s nothing more that you want than being here in this quiet space, he sits upright as he hugs you, arms holding you tight and pepper your neck small kisses, flutter of giggles erupt from your throat, he joins— and you sigh in content, muttering to him. “you have flowers all over.”

“like rupunzel?”

“sure”

“you have…” he gazes at the flower crown, tentative but with so much gentleness, he softly says “…forget-me-nots”

“i remember, this was the first flower you showed me after that conversation in the—“

“it’s my favorite.”

the moment he says it, the red that accompanies his ears are shy, the miniscule pout, the shaky intake of breath, he’s still looking at the flower, almost as if avoiding your gaze. “i-i know its a little late to uh, reveal that, but..yeah”

2 years. It’s been 2 years.

and without fail, you get shy with him as well. “oh, forget-me-nots, huh?”

a simple nod “i love—“ he looks at you. fixed and whole and certain. “i love flowers (you.)”

Chigiri Hyoma kisses your forehead like a promise, then sealing it with your lips, and smiling to you tenfolds.

you swear you want to tear up then and there. “i love flowers (you), too.”

notes. i was writing this and in the middle of it i thought of mitski’s first love/late spring and i was like “hey…HEY WHAT”my first fic for 2024! thank u sm for reading this!! been so long since i actually like my writing for once. but like there might be typos and the uppercase/lowercase letters (idk if i want to be in full lowercase or have some uppercase like a good grammar kid) i’ll edit them later or tmrw :D

taglist. @yoisami @kooriou

© kyoghurts. ★ reblogs & likes are well appreciated!

[theminecraftbee]

> check social links

(Which Social Link should I check on...?)

0 FOOL School Rescue Committee Should this really be an official school club? The group of Persona-users that I'm in now, whether I like it or not. At least I'm helping people by doing all this weird magic nonsense...

I MAGICIAN Scar A fellow Persona-user a year below me, although my senior in fighting Shadows. He's dragged me into his scam crystal-selling operation, which is actually weirdly fun.

II PRIESTESS Beef Pretty large and muscular for a priestess, but sure, I'll bite. A volunteer EMT who is trying to decide whether to follow his family's wishes for university.

III EMPRESS Gem A fellow Persona-user in my year. She wants me to help her study for entrance exams, apparently. Not sure why she's asking me, I missed an entire semester? But it's good enough study for me as well.

IV EMPEROR Impulse A fellow Persona-user in my year. He has a single-minded devotion to overworking himself, despite the fact he seems to be trying to prove it's fine for some reason.

V HIEROPHANT Xisuma An older man who hangs out in the local tea shop. Keeps trying to parent me for some reason, although it seems like his relationship with his actual family's a bit less good, so maybe that's why.

VI LOVERS Etho My lab partner. The whole school's obsessed with him for some reason. My only solace is that he seems to be just as disconcerted by that fact as I am.

VII CHARIOT Skizzleman A fellow Persona-user in my year, and my first friend in this town. I'm helping him find a part-time job. He's sort of ridiculously cheerful, but I know he understands me better than most people.

VIII JUSTICE Grian A fellow Persona-user a year below me, although my senior in fighting Shadows. Keeps dragging me into his pranks, although for such a gregarious guy, he's weirdly isolated.

IX HERMIT Joe Hills One of my teachers, and the head of the School Rescue Committee. He's, frankly, the most bizarre guy I know, and I don't know what to make of any of the "wisdom" he tries to impart on us.

X FORTUNE Tango Apparently, he's a bit of a prodigy in the robotics club, but he first came to me to confess he's considering quitting. I have no idea why this is my problem, but Impulse frowned at me about it, so here I am.

XI STRENGTH False A local martial artist who's been decorated with a number of titles. I just wanted her to teach me how to fight better, but apparently, she's starting to doubt her own fighting ability as well.

XII HANGED MAN Jimmy Igor's assistant in the Velvet Room. He's a bit of an idiot, but he's also my idiot. Mostly wants to request I escort him to places in the human world, although he wants specific fusions sometimes too.

XIII DEATH Cleo A "florist" in town who can source us weapons and fence goods from Altered Space. I'm pretty sure she's actually Yakuza, or at least criminal. She and Joe know each other, although strangely, she doesn't seem to remember from where.

XIV TEMPERANCE Iskall and Stress Two priests at the local shrine. I work for them occasionally to help them with odd jobs around town. They share some common past they don't like to talk about.

XV DEVIL Ren The student council president. He's bizarrely mad with power on a good day, which is weird, because he's also bizarrely kickable on a good day. Keeps on trying to rope me into the Student Council.

XVI TOWER Doc An inventor trying to invent a safe new clean energy source. According to rumors, his last try exploded, killing his lab partner, which constantly makes me question why I'm here.

XVII STAR Zedaph Proprietor of the famous local "Mystery Stir Fry Extravaganza". Frankly, his creations terrify me more than Doc's do. I have no idea why this is Impulse's favorite restaurant.

XVIII MOON Mumbo A fellow Persona-user in the year below me. Apparently, he still gets bullied a lot, but he has a scheme to, and I quote, 'learn to be something scary, like a horse.' Good luck with that, mate.

XIX SUN Pearl An artist that I've always admired. Recently, she was in a terrible car accident, and her hands now constantly shake because of it. I still think she can draw organic shapes better than me, though.

XX JUDGEMENT Soul Reappearance Committee Judgement. Hah. I guess you'd call this Judgement Day, sure.

XXI THE WORLD ... It's me.

[hollycrowned]

cipherhunt log: some sunny day

It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?

On July 27th, I went to the Hillsboro Barnes & Noble signing event for The Book of Bill. I’ve decided to come back to this account at least for a moment to write a little bit about what it was like. At the end of this post, there’s some Cipher Hunt related news, so be sure to read all the way through.

The Q&A was a lot of fun. There was excitement in the air even before the event began, with eager fans wearing Dipper hats and flannel shirts hurrying to their seats. A few fans were in cosplay, too, which was heartwarming to see. While there were several kids with their parents in the audience, most of the fans there were younger adults—which really made it hit me that the series first aired over ten years ago.

By total accident I ended up next to the door Alex stepped through and caught his entrance:

Alex has the type of charm that can get anyone laughing, and his own laughter is contagious. I didn’t record much of the talk, wanting to simply experience it, but here’s a short video I took of him talking about how The Book of Bill came about:

Over the half hour, Alex talked about the the book itself, about the show, his characters, and about creating a television series. Fans, when the mic was turned over to the audience, said what they love most about the series and asked about intentionality and the possibility of crossovers (Alex’s immediate “yes” was a hit). Alex expressed after one question that while he never could have guessed that people would like Gravity Falls so much, he’s grateful for the enduring love fans have for the show.

The event coordinator, who schooled a few questions to Alex before mic was given over to the audience, asked what I think we all want to know: “What are you working on right now?” Alex gave the answer he’s given in the past: that as is typical in Hollywood, he can’t talk about the projects he’s currently involved in.

If you were around when I was active here, you might remember that by the time I left, my focus had become to follow Alex through his career. To recap: after Gravity Falls ended, Deadline reported in 2018 that Alex had signed a multi-year exclusive contract with Netflix. Not long after, Netflix announced the opening of its own animation studio, alongside a reel showcasing some of the artists they’d recruited. The reel highlighted that this group of artists included industry legends, young talent, and diverse voices; each artist in the reel talked how excited they were for what the studio itself meant the future of animation, and for the opportunity to work there. Alex was in this reel, too.

Although I’ve moved on to other fandoms and my own creative work, I’ve kept up with movements in the animation industry. If you have, too, you may know about the massive cuts and cancellations Netflix has made in the last several years, especially to its animation department. Alex has produced and consulted on a few projects at Netflix since his contract began—chief among them Inside Job, which was initially renewed by for a second season before Netflix reversed their decision six months later and cancelled the series altogether. Shion Takeuchi, the creator of Inside Job and previous writer on Gravity Falls, confirmed the cancellation, saying “I’m heartbroken.” Alex, in a reply, expressed the same, adding, “Grateful to have had the chance to help on one of my best friends shows, for however briefly”.

In the six years since Alex signed his contract with Netflix, there have been hints that he’s been working on a series with his name on the masthead. In late 2020, he tweeted about staffing his new show:

But if his project was among the cuts Netflix made a few years after that, he gave no sign of it in his answer.

It’s jarring, and saddening, to watch that reel from 2018 with the knowledge of what has happened since. Outside of Netflix, things seem just as dire, with the dragging of AI into animation giants like Disney and Dreamworks by their corporate executives—notably, as The Animation Guilds’ contract approached its expiration date. In 2023, Vulture published an article which included testimonies from four artists who worked on Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse about the unsustainable working conditions at Sony while the film was in production. Over the last few years, Warner Bros has shelved two animated films and one hybrid for multimillion-dollar tax write-offs. In addition, their subsidiary HBO Max purged multiple animated series from its catalogue, denying the artists who worked on them access to their own works—and for some of them, residuals as well.

The final question at the Q&A was from a fan who said that they’re currently in school for animation. They asked Alex if he had any advice for new animators trying to break into the industry. Immediately, my mind went to all of that news I linked in the paragraphs above. I listened intently…

Alex’s response did not have hopelessness in it. He did talk, foremost and with humor, about how risky it is to pursue art as a career, especially at this moment—laughed, as he ended a sentence with, “Don’t go into the arts.” But he moved on from that, and gave an even more honest reply: hone your skills, put your work out there, and don’t give up. Be persistent, share what you make, make what you love. Make sure it’s easy for people to contact you, explore feelings through your work even when it’s uncomfortable, and show your work to others, even though it’s scary. Alex also remarked on creating itself being hard work, from the raw process to putting your art out there to taking criticism to learning from what didn’t work and applying it to your drafts and future projects. Hard work, challenging in more ways than one, on top of an unforgiving cultural moment, yes—but keep going. Keep creating.

Keep making art.

Then the Q&A ended, and the signing began. I found myself at the end of the line, but I didn’t mind; neither did anyone else waiting with me. In the moments when I wasn’t chatting with other fans, I thought about that last question and Alex’s response.

There is little that is easy about being an artist these days. I have come to know this by having friends who are artists, by following the careers and accounts of other artists, by reading the news, and—since becoming an artist myself—finding out firsthand. But I have come to know, just as well, that the best remedy for these ills is community. Whether you create art as a hobby or you have a career in the arts, whether your medium is collaborative or solitary in nature: in the face of intolerable working conditions, cutthroat corporations and corner-cutting clients, the advantages they take, the instability and uncertainty, and what all artists can relate to: the challenges of the creative process itself—it’s the support of your fellow artists that helps you survive. It helps art survive. A community that creates alongside you can give trusted critique, celebrate with you, stand up for you, introduce you to other artists you can learn from, and give what is necessary for so many of us to create at all: encouragement. A voice that says, keep creating. This gives to the world what is necessary for us all: more art.

If tech companies develop their AI by stealing from artists, if the c-suites who own the studios see artists as disposable, with the way freelancing can throw water on creative fire, if popular opinion increasingly trends toward art only having as much value as money it makes, then we must support each other. Helpful, practical advice given by a successful artist on how to succeed in the arts in this particular moment is a gem to anyone who is reaching for that goal. But invaluable and eternal is example; not just of success, but of how to be good to your fellow artists—and in turn, to yourself.

And I just think that’s how an artist ought to be.

As the line moved, and I got close enough to see the signing table across the room, I watched Alex greet the fans ahead of me. I found that he was as sweet to people as I always have heard he is, as I remember from watching the Periscopes he appeared in during Cipher Hunt: generous with his time, genuine, and good-natured. One fan skipped away from the table with their book, and a big smile on their face.

And then it was my turn.

When you meet him, he looks you in the eye. I always forget, until I shake someone else’s hand, how small my own hands are. I told him my name is Holly. He asked, “Spelled how it sounds?” I spelled it for him, reflexively, before I could fully process the question and simply say yes. I said lightheartedly that he must be extra happy to see us, being that we were at the end of the line—it was over three hours after the event had begun—and he said, “I’m sorry you all had to wait for this long.” While he was signing my copy, I asked if he was enjoying Portland—though what I really meant to ask was if he was happy to be back in the PNW, in the summertime. He said yes, he loves it here.

It all happened so fast, with me completely forgetting that I’d passed my phone to a kind father of some fans waiting near me in line, and I almost walked away without getting a picture with him. When you meet a celebrity crush from your younger years, it has you reckon with how the part of you who crushed back then has walked with you through time—in what ways who you were back then is still a part of who you are now, and who you want to be. And, of course, it gets your heart beating a little faster, too.

There was much more I wanted to ask him (this has never stopped being the case), but there were other fans waiting for their turn, and he had given his time to just shy of 150 people already. So I smiled at him, and said thank you, and moved along.

I am, and always will be, excited to see anything Alex makes. Hearing him talk about his art, and artistry, and being an artist, was beyond wonderful; not only young Holly’s wish come true, but inspiring for Holly, today—as an artist in my own right. In the years since I retired this account, as I’ve read all this news about the industry, I’ve often wondered how Alex has been. I am very happy and grateful I was lucky enough to get a ticket to the signing, and meet him.

And finally…the Cipher Hunt news.

First: the fan waiting in front of me in the signing line (I’m so sorry I didn’t get your name, but if you’re reading this, I hope you had a safe and smooth flight back home!) said she had been to Confusion Hill recently, and that Bill and the treasure box are still there. I haven’t been to Confusion Hill since I last went in 2017–before COVID—but I think about Bill and the treasure box all the time. It made me so happy to hear that fans are still visiting and exchanging treasures. I hope I get to go again, someday soon.

The second announcement: by chance, I happened to meet a fan who is working on a documentary about Cipher Hunt. I introduced myself and said I’d be more than happy to help out with the project! The creator, Keyan Carlile, can be found on both Twitter and YouTube. I hope you’ll follow along!

I met so many other lovely fans while waiting in line, as well. There is still so much affection and excitement for this series, and it was so nice to step back into the fandom, if only or a moment. If we spoke with each other: it was so nice to meet you! Maybe our paths will cross again, someday. And to everyone, all of the fans who were there, and all of you out there with The Book of Bill:

happy reading!! ∆

[weebsinstash]

Ok so I kept procrastinating but I finally finished Masquerade earlier today and just. Oh my fucking god, kicking my feet, twirling my hair around a finger, giggling ,rewinding, smiling like a GOON, I have THOUGHTS

--Val's red coat is his WINGS and they're glorious. And not to mention he wears that like, slutty open chested black v neck underneath where he's lowkey showing off his nipples too, the slut. The gold heart belt buckle and the matching gold accented accessories too. Ugh. You can't say he doesn't dress up, and I really liked getting to see the full reveal of his body so to speak, the way his violet arms become black fingers, also is he, is he wearing like gold manicured claw cap things sometimes, why is he such a diva, he's so extra

--the Addict music video WASN'T just being artistic, Valentino's smoke CAN become physical actual chains and bondage and oh my gooddddddd I'm using this knowledge for EVIL purposes.

Boom! Sudden third eye opening moment, but remember that post I made about "Val who starts dragging you around on a leash because he's too much taller than you to keep leading you by the hand" ? His lower set of arms could totally hold onto you BUT I can totally see him using these chains all the time now, to drag you around and just restrain you and shit. Ugh. Just. Him having you completely immobilized and helpless and shaking like a chihuahua as he can run his fingers along you and whatever else he wants, listening to you gadp and squirm

-- ok I know the whole point of the poison music video was showing the horrible shit Angel is made to do and how he's dehumanized but like.... obviously, from.. a fetish perspective... you know what I think 😩❤️

Like you can't just show me a shot of Valentino having Angel in his arms and he's got all four arms wrapped around him in like almost an embrace, kissing, KISSING while they fuck. maybe I'm so shy but that's so... intimate, like, ok fuck my ass i guess, that's like sex, whatever, but kissing me on the MOUTH, let alone with tongue? you might as well be looking into my soul or something dofnofjfjg, not to mention Val biting his neck while they do it like you CAN'T me all of that and expect me to be normal!!!

--platonic yandere Husker with an alcoholic Reader though. He forces you into these weird little therapy sessions when yeah he still serves you drinks but he cuts you off when you're fucking plastered, like he enables you until you're having TOO much, amd by that point you're yammering with your loose lips and answering ALL His questions. Siiiiigh I can see him seeing how you're down on your luck and burying your worries and sorrows at the bottom of a bottle , getting so drunk you can barely sit up straight, and he starts getting protective of you, secretly following you to bars when you won't just get drunk at the hotel, making sure your drink doesn't get spiked, having to kick some ass to protect you and drag you home more than once

--i was such a fool. If Valentino is such a, quite frankly, perverted fucking idiot that he LICKS CHARLIE, fucking CHARLIE MORNINGSTAR upon first meeting her, he ABSOLUTELY does creepy shit to his darling day ONE. He CLEARLY has ZERO impulse control: he drinks, he smokes, he forces himself onto other people, he throws things when he loses his temper. He uses his power to be a bully and seeking unrestrained self gratification

--this is completely unrelated to everything else here but Zestial is hot in that like, antiquated charming eldritch evil kind of way. He seems like the sort of creature you could encounter deep within an enchanted woods, you're freshly dead and wind up in a bad part of Pentagram City and this TOWERING gentleman says some shit like "turn back child, there is no safety for you here". He's. He's sexy in that Neflix Castlevania Dracula way where there's an appeal in his age and his wisdom and his composure and just his full-on aesthetic and such. Like bro it's so easy to miss it but he's the oldest of the Overlords and he bowed in respect to Carmilla for what she did. He's chivalrous and loyal and just 👀 got my eye on him...

--bro watching Val manipulate Angel to get Charlie to leave fucking HURT and I've thought about Reader being in that exact scenario SO many times! Valentino is manipulating Angel to control you, and he's manipulating YOU to control Angel. Sure, he'll have Angel make you cry and chase you off so you don't get emotional and interfere with a shoot, or so that you don't sabotage whatever manipulated state he has Angel under at the time, but when you're off on your own drinking and crying and sobbing and feeling oh so horrible and pitiful, then Val is sibling up to you, cooing about, oh how MEAN Angel was to you, he didn't have to be so harsh to someone so sweet--

Could you imagine the fucking. Tiered angst and manipulation of Angel hurting Reader because Val pressured him to, and then Reader going off and getting drunk and being self destructive, and then at your emotional weakest Val is popping in to strike some kind of deal with you or fuck you or whatever, and then Angel blames himself, and here's Valentino, "that wouldn't have happened if you just did what you were told :3c" and Angel is even further under his control because now he's terrified he might "fuck up" and get you really hurt

--siiiiiiiigh imagine like drinking with Angel and you've been down there for like two months and you're idly chit chatting and, something something, you offhandedly mention something like "god fuck Val had me so fucking wasted I could barely sign my employee contract" CUE ANGEL IMMEDIATELY DROPPING WHATEVERS IN HIS HAND AND SHAKING YOU, "what do you MEAN you signed something??? You're just waiting tables, what did you SIGN???" And it turns out Val whipped out like ONE OF THE B I G "types" of contracts for you. God I really want some elaboration on how those contracts work and how Val or any Overlord strikes deals and even gains powers because it's very clear not everyone had the same level of abilities, and also lowkey the power scaling in Hazbin is kinda busted like not to be a dweeb but you've got people running around basically having Quirks

--ALSO THIS IS SO DUMB BUT I HAVE A COMPLAINT SIR. Valentino straight up says "no one watches porn for the dialogue" EXTREMELY INCORRECT BUZZER NOISE. When you've watched enough porn or at the very least you're hunting for a specific fetish, dialogue can be Duper important. You can see 20 different actors do the same scene BUT have a specific pair who, maybe used a specific line that stood out to you and made it unique and made it worth watching. You know for a long while there I was writing smut and feeling like I was doing the same descriptions over and over again and it kind of burnt me out and turned me off and that's when I tried to shift towards more emotional and environmental and thematic sorts of stuff

Listen all I'm saying is I have been ENAMORED like straight up with the idea of Reader becoming the fourth V because you become close to all the Vs and you have your own talents and they all like you and shit. You're able to pitch product ideas to Vox, even help him if you're a programmer or a coder or something, Valentino.... maybe you have magic hammer space pockets and can run him errands or you cook drugs or you're like a sexy bodyguard for him or, he just likes getting drunk and doing drugs with you, and Velvette is that #Bitch who you gossip with who likes to design new shit for you and bounce ideas off of you from time to time. Like the gradual slide of "oh we're all hanging out and they think I'm actually kind of cool," to "oh they keep inviting me to hang out. I feel special. I'm one of the cool kids. Maybe I even have fun powers and they encourage me to be mean and evil and its fun" to then "oh you're straight up shoving new clothes in my face and you keep using this one specific V nickname for me instead of my real name and I stg I don't have personal space anymore and I'm always being crowded by at least one of you literally 24/7"

God just. God. Just. GOD I AM SO WELL FED. I saw what Viv was selling and I got in line and I've finally gotten my food and it is FILLING, my craving for controlling obsessive possessive douchebags is sooooo sated right now 😩❤️

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hey Raven, have you finished watching Black Butler: Public School Arc? :'D I recently finished watching the anime, It was good! I loved it! I know a lot of fans were disappointed with the different art styles/animation, but studio CloverWorks did such an amazing job! I wonder when we'll get another season, probably in another 4 years 🫠

Obviously, I couldn't help but notice the similarities between the main characters and the Twst cast. Especially that one scene where Ciel walks to the Purple House/Violet Wolf dormitory, and I instantly thought, "No way, that's basically the ramshackle Dorm!"

That being said, just for the funsies, if the Twst cast were to be students in Weston College, which dorms do you think they would be assigned to? We've got Scarlet Fox, Sapphire Owl, Green Lion, and Violet Wolf. I think it’s a fun scenario to imagine the Twst cast in Weston College lolol.

Oooh, I actually don’t watch a lot of anime (it’s hard for me to sit still for like 20 minutes straight) 😅 but it’s nice to know that people are enjoying the adaptation of the Public School arc! I have fond memories of that part, even though I no longer follow Black Butler. I blame it for the horrible realization that I find Mr. Phantomhive hot—

And yes, lots of people have pointed out the similarities between the BB Public School arc and TWST. It makes sense since Yana was the creative spearheading both; there was sure to be spillover!

xbjsvsjww442,2!funNbejw 😭 I don’t remember the houses that well, so I did a quick Google search before writing these up. (Apologies if I misinterpreted something!) This is where I would slot the 22 NRC boys:

Scarlet Fox/Red House - for students of high class and noble lineages

Malleus (prince, duh)

Riddle (counting upper middle class since Riddle’s parents are also upper middle class; therefore the wealth can be considered generational)

Kalim (rich Rich RICH)

Leona (could also toss him in Blue or Green house as a little jab at his being second in line but I’ll be yasashii to him)

Sapphire Owl/Blue House - for students who are at the top of academics

Azul (all that shady contract work and abusing loopholes takes a lot of brainpower :v)

Idia (tech geek)

Ortho (is literally an artificial intelligence android)

Ace (okay, maybe his grades suck but I’m counting his cheeky cleverness here)

Jamil (he’s not allowed to excel in TWST because of Kalim so assume he is allowed to excel in these circumstances; if not, maybe he’d be in Red House with Kalim as his attendant 😞)

Jade (pretty crafty in general; prefers to plot before acting or resorting to violence)

Green Lion/Green House - for students who excel in athletics

Jack (see: arms)

Sebek (see: Arms)

Silver (see: ARMS; could also put him in Red House but that would be a spoiler www)

Ruggie (not super strong but pretty lanky and swift; could also work in Blue House for his street smarts)

Floyd (throw fists first, ask questions later twin)

Deuce (ex-delinquent; brute forces his way though problems with his sheer stubbornness)

Violet Wolf/Purple House - for students who are accomplished in the arts

***I expanded the definition of “the arts” to include acting, cooking, music, etc. As a result, this iteration of Purple House is more… flashy… and less gloomy.***

Trey (baker)

Vil (HUGE in the entertainment sector)

Cater (influencer ✨, loves aesthetics)

Rook (he’s constantly in pursuit of beauty; see also: concealed A R M S)

Lilia (he’s… creative)

Epel (dragged along here with the rest of Pomefiore, but does have artistic skills via his apple cutting)

[answer2jeff]

Life Imitates Art —Carmen Berzatto.

PART 1/2.

warnings: fluff. painter!reader x roommate!carmen. unestablished relationships. clunky overly detailed writing. carmy being concerned. angsty. mutual pinning. (reader is lowkey mentally unstable like Carmen. i can't write 100% healthy relationships i'm sorry!!!)

a/n: sorry i disappeared and didn't write for weeks and decided to randomly drop this!

You needed inspiration.

With your last three pieces bought out from the French art gallery, L'art de L'amour, you hadn't touched your easel in days. Your brushes had gone dry, the paint clumping and staining every bristle. The lack of desire to make art felt like you hadn't seen the sun in 10 years.

You'd been ignoring this dreadful feeling with sleep.

Long day at the studio, the space filled with no one but younger, starving artists who wanted to admire your work for creative flow—but never wanting to know the real meaning behind every brush stroke, or why you used oil paints for specific pieces? Sleep.

The days fell shorter, the nights falling longer.

Even your roommate, a micromanager of his career, noticed.

It surprised you, possibly more than it should've. When you first moved into this apartment, you had every doubt in the world sharing a space would be enjoyable. For a while, you weren't sure if you could call yourselves "friends." Then again, living with a complete stranger—a man, no less, seemed impractical. But after a month or two, it was refreshing in a way. Carmen always cleaned up after himself, and was never opposed to splitting chores. There was no need to set specific boundaries. You felt respected, cared for. Every minute not overpowered by either of your desires to create were mostly spent with each other. It kept you sane.

You woke up to the sound of Carmen walking into the kitchen, cursing under his breath when he struggled to shut the door of your apartment behind him. Reluctantly, you dragged yourself out of bed, only to find that your bedroom door was wide open. You must've gone straight to bed after spending the entire evening trying and expectedly failing at "cleaning" up the apartment so Carmen wouldn't come home to a mess.

Bare feet pattered against the floorboards, the palm of your hand pressing into your tired eyes. You stretched your arms out, your t-shirt, who you weren't sure if it was yours or Carmen's, lifting up and showing just a sliver of your stomach over your grey sweatpants. The sunlight leaking through the windows blinded you.

"Oh, hey. You're up." A warm, welcoming voice greeted you, followed by the fridge being closed shut after restocking it with the necessities he picked up from Whole Foods.

You blinked to see Carmen hovered over the kitchen counter, clad in a navy-blue crewneck and gold chain dangling from his pale neck. His hands pried at a familiar brown wrapper. Blueberry muffins.

"Hey, yourself," you slurred, barely able to keep your eyes open as you hoisted yourself up onto the marble surface. You gazed down at him, grinning at his messy blonde curls.

Carmen smiled back, blue eyes admiring the sight of you: half asleep, your voice raspy while still having that airy cadence, your hair messier than it was the last time he willingly saw you—which he couldn't totally remember. He came home to the sight of your bedroom dimly lit by your bedside lamp.

"It's noon," he muttered, glancing from his phone on the counter, and back to you.

"Shit. Really?"

"Yeah. You've been sleeping a lot lately," he kept his stare on you as he opened the cabinet beside you, reminding you to 'watch your head' as he grabbed a ceramic plate.

"Isn't that a good thing?"

Your mind wandered to your exhibit. The thought of never having the ability to create such extraordinary work terrified you. So much that you hadn't even tried. It was almost embarrassing: Carmen seeing you like this. Rid of the one thing you convinced yourself you knew how to do.

"Not really."

You wanted to laugh. Maybe he just didn't get it.

If you could make even the painfully mundane into something more, than maybe you were more than just existing. Carmen was actually astounded by you and your work, even with the lack of knowledge in other art forms. Culinary was his calling, but for you? Oh, how he tried to grasp every concept you conveyed in your creative works. All in attempt to comprehend every thought in that pretty little head of yours.

Maybe he didn't understand as much as he wished, but maybe he didn't have to totally 'get it' to get you. Carmen found it hard to read people, their feelings, their true intentions, his whole life. But for once, he had confidence in his intoxicating marvel for everything you did. Even the way you covered your mouth when you laughed around everyone except him, or the way you styled your hair

"Well, it was for the sake of art," you smiled, extending your hand out to accept the plate that held the beautifully baked blueberry muffin. "Thanks for these, by the way."

"Pleasure. And I was actually gonna ask you about that. The—the art. Your art." Carmen joined you on the counter, his feet dangling beside yours. Your shoulders bumped past each other, a laugh coming from the both of you.

"Yeah? What about it?" You bit into your muffin, your gaze never leaving his.

"Well, I uh—I kinda wanted to visit your exhibit, y'know? Get to see it in its full form. I would've asked sooner but—"

"Yeah, yeah, it's okay. I know. Um—that'd be great. That's really nice of you, Carm."

A part of you wondered why he wanted to see it. But it wasn't all too surprising. Carmen took every chance he got to see your studio—even taking the initiative to drive you home from it on late nights, where you'd be endlessly analyzing your works even hours after Carmen would leave what was now, The Bear.

"Nah, I mean, I've just seen all that y'do and it's—" Carmen shrugged, struggling to find the right words to express his admiration without changing the atmosphere, "really cool. It's you, y'know?" His bottom lip was barred by his teeth and he looked into you for an answer.

You wished you could understand how the complexities of a kitchen; how it could clutch Carmen's attention to the point of no return, but you were happy for him. He was making something more of "mom and dads piece of shit," as he called it.

You never thought it was anything short of fucking awesome. He had all of this experience, drive, passion. Carmen felt more real, more rawly human to you than anything. Or anyone you'd met before.

He changed you. You were softer, calmer.

And still, you worried for him, dragging him out of the ever all consuming anxiety. Sometimes this was through watching X-file reruns on the couch. And every night, you'd move a little closer. By now, he'd keep an arm around you as your eyes became heavy and the room stirred with darkness and comfortable silence. He prayed to whatever ruled above him that you wouldn't notice, simultaneously wishing you'd want him to hold you gently like this. Even grocery store trips, something so simple, felt this way—which you missed out on this morning. You'd stand on the edge of the cart, your hands supporting your weight as Carmen pushed the handle with both hands, eyes scanning the isle for whatever obscure ingredient he needed for the dinner he planned on making you that night.

Every time he looked away, you stared. His beautifully carved nose, the way he bit the inside of his cheek and furrowed his blonde eyebrows when he tried to focus on making a decision. You were afraid, in a weird, animalistic way. You hadn't stopped yourself from relying on him. What if loving him this way made him pull away–or worse, you? You had to admit, having something this painfully simple in your life that made up for the chaos, was a little hard to accept.

It took everything in you to pretend you didn't notice him cleaning up the bathroom you shared whenever either of you left your belongings lying around. You wanted to convince yourself it was because he didn't want to come off as a slob, or influence you to be one yourself. But it always felt more like he was looking after you. Nothing that belonged to you would ever be misplaced again. Not with Carmen around.

You took pride in the little things. Your shoes placed next to each other near the front door, your toothbrushes leaning against each other with corresponding colored clips to cover their bristles. This was good. Change was good.

[applepixls]

i think something like season 8's moon big thing is going to happen again this season-

in several magical mountain people's recent episodes (i remember mumbo mentioning it a couple episodes back and grian as well? not sure who else) they've mentioned that something weird/something big feels like its happening in the world (grian even made a straight up moon big reference) but i think this time it's going to be something with the ocean

this kind of starts at the very beginning of the season and follows through. in grian's very first episode he calls magical mountain a volcano and that idea has followed through and now they're hollowing it out. in another episode when he gets flung up in the air he makes a moon big reference. soo early season ideas/references seem to be following through to now

in episode 2, grian gathers a crowd of people (gem, etho, impulse, skizz, ren, cleo, cub) and they all just chat and fish and make jokes about how the ocean can get you addicted to fishing and pretend the ocean is a higher being that will provide fishing rods to those it sees worthy (we also see it a bit in the end of grians episode 1) eventually leading to ren saying "i don't know why im doing this but i don't want to stop" and cleo agreeing. etho originally had also been skeptical but quickly got dragged into the shenanigans and very happy with getting lily pads for some reason? it's just a fun random interaction but some of those things can lead to lore.

etho also says in this interaction "dont drink the koolaid" because gem randomly suggests to all eat a pufferfish which i don't fully understand the phrase but it comes from a guy who made a cult and lured his followers out into a jungle (etho loves jungles) and because cults always have a like Date where they believe their higher power is coming to save them and commit mass suicide on that day, the guy made a lot of poisoned koolaid and everyone died. so cults

in gem's most recent episode (19) she builds an artists house and says the artist looks out on the water for inspiration but as a result has become quite paranoid.

in season 8 they have a cult of people not sleeping because they think the moon is a higher power come to save them or something and early season 10 was a cult of people fishing, not to mention that certain patterns seem to repeat every other season (season 7 and 9 were both really long, in season 9 people were nostalgic for season 7 and in season 8 people were nostalgic for season 6 and certain storylines that could have some parallels drawn not to mention that everyone compares season 7 and 9 for the length and says that they were incredibly long perhaps suggesting that this season might be a bit shorter? its also the fact that in season 7 and 9 everyone built Starter Bases and then moved out to larger bases but in season 8 and now season 10 they seem to have made starter homes and expanded on them while still living out of their day one builds)

basically, tldr: something big is happening and i think the oceans doing it

theres something in the water and its making the freaking frogs gay (its making the block people all do __punk or east asian vibe stuff and bureaucratic/public service-y)