#like does it make any logical sense? no. is it practically a crack idea? yes. do i still think it'd be way too fun? hell yes.

[spencersmagic]

a knife twists at the thought - SR

Prompt: a knife twists at the thought that i should fall short of the mark - Arctic Monkeys

Summary: Spencer is new to this, and the poor boy is terrified

Couple: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid (i picture season 2/3 Spencer but y’all do you)

Category: angst

Word count: 3086 words

Warnings: general criminal minds stuff, mentions and descriptions of torture, descriptions of loss, HAPPY ENDING!!, my 3am writing, tooth rotting love, uhmm spoilers for Orwell’s 1984 (if anybody hasn’t read it), humiliation, Spencer crying and breaking my heart (lmk if you need anything warned or trigger tagged).

A/N This is very loosely based on 2x15 (VERY LOOSELY). I’m quite proud of this one :)

masterlist // 505 series taglist

*****

They say you never see it coming.

When a tragedy occurs, and someone’s life is turned upside down forever, they never see it coming. It just... hits them. Like an oncoming car ramming into a bystander who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

No one has time to prepare. In our time-starved lives, there is no place for such a warning.

One day, you just wake up. And they’re not next to you. They’ve disappeared, leaving the stickiest, most unforgettable parts of themselves behind for others to grieve to: the smell of their shampoo in the pillows they used to share, the seconds just as you wake when you still feel like you have them - only to gain full consciousness and realise they left you behind - even the fucking jars, which never seem to be open because he’s just not there to do it.

And you feel your heart breaking all over again as your soul sticks to the parts that couldn’t be erased with the rest of him as he left. Because you needed him, you had him, and now he’s gone. No warning, no letter, no signs which could’ve helped you foresee such a tragedy, because how could he? He didn’t disappear on purpose.

She doesn’t understand why he's so absent. So unequivocally missing. And the person she would turn to to ask these riddled questions isn’t there to answer. Because he’s gone.

But they’re not there yet.

And she feels so close to that feeling - the helplessness, the pain, the empty cups next to her bed because he always carried them to the sink when she was finished with her tea the mornings of those rare days they got to sleep in. Those days when they had time. She can practically touch, with the tip of her fingertips, the waves of pain that would surge over her if he was gone for one more fucking minute.

She has to remind herself, over and over again, like a mantra. He’s not gone yet.

The “yet” at the end of her mantra just breaks her all over again.

She was always the one to tell Spencer “if you worry before something happens, in case it goes wrong, and then it does, you’ve managed to suffer twice through something painful for absolutely no reason”. It usually worked. Needless to say, she felt like a hypocrite right about now.

Because Spencer is gone. And she doesn’t know how to bring him back.

She knows only to watch the monitor, never once blinking, taking in everything that happened in that damned livestream - every word, every sound, every reference. She can only try to hear anything over the whimpers and sobs her love was letting out as he’s tortured by that man. She can only hear the cracks of his knuckles against Spencers soft skin, the same soft skin she had kissed mere hours ago before telling him to “be careful”. Her own way of saying the three little words the couple was too young to hear. She can only see his lips parting, sobs rumbling out of his body as the unsub abuses his frame over and over again - same lips which had kissed her forehead before telling her “i always am”.

Then again, she isn’t sure if its his voice which is filling her head with painful sounds or if her mind is playing tricks on her, memorising the horrifying vibrations coming from his chest for her to ever consider anything else. She hasn’t stopped hearing him since she turned on that damned computer.

She isn’t sure she’ll ever stop hearing it.

**

As a man of great intellect, Spencer always recurred to knowledge to understand difficult occurrences in his life. Burying himself in textbooks, novels, poems, and even music to understand pain, and himself having a life filled with it, he was an incredibly knowledgeable man.

He knew much. But right now, he only knew one thing.

In Orwells’ 1984, as Winston was being tortured (much like Spencer is right now), Orwell described the following:

“Never, for any reason on earth, could you wish for an increase of pain. Of pain you could only wish one thing: that it should stop. Nothing in the world was so bad as physical pain. In the face of pain there are no heroes, no heroes”.

And, as a man who had acquired most of his intellect by immersing himself in trivial content in the face of pain, he found himself doing the same thing as the unsub hurt him over and over again, each blow seemingly more painful than the last. As his skin bruised, a causality of his abusers torment, he analysed the seemingly logical quote.

It must depend on the person, he was sure. In fact, a number of factors must be taken into consideration at this statement. For starters, Winston lives in a society incapable of any human feelings. There is only dominance, and those who attempt, in vain, to challenge it. Surely, if he had felt happiness, like the one you feel when the first day of spring rolls around, or like the one that creeps up on you as you look into the eyes of your loved one, surely, he would understand that some things can outweigh pain.

Love.

If Spencer’s mind could make sense of what he was feeling right now, he would understand, something he would figure of were he to leave this damned place, that he was thankful to the Gods, were there any, for having the unsub kidnap him and not Y/N.

Winston hadn’t understood emotional pain because emotions weren’t dealt with regularly. They were discouraged. That’s why he believed that there are no heroes in the face of pain. Because he doesn’t understand emotional pain.

He knew he was suffering. He also knew that Y/N was at the other side of the blinking camera suffering more than he could ever imagine.

**

They say emotional pain lasts 12 minutes. Anything one feels after this would be the aftermath of the cause of the pain in question. Pure emotional pain, the one you practically feel in your chest, the one that says “i can’t think, feel or be. not until this feeling dissipates”.

She had learned this from Spencer.

And she wished it were true. As she watched that damned monitor, she wished that all the venom the unsub was spewing at Spencer, all the verbal abuse, was long forgotten. She wished he could only feel the physical pain. Because the mind is incredibly stronger than the body - it could keep him awake, alive, for just enough time for the team to rescue him.

The entire team had huddled around the monitor around her. She was painfully aware that other people were seeing this. Which meant it wasn’t her imagination. It wasn’t another one of those damned dreams she would have when she slept a little too far away from Spencer’s touch.

They had only been together for two months, but his touch was all that could get her to fall asleep.

She jolted as the unsub landed another slap on Spencer’s cheek, swiftly grabbing his hair for him to look into the camera. He had a cut above his right cheek, just where she would kiss him in the mornings, and bruises all over his neck, jaw and left eye.

“Say hi to your team!” he mocked Spencer, chuckling darkly as he moved his almost lifeless body around for the team to watch in horror. Spencer let out a heartbreaking sob, feeling so vulnerable.

“Why don’t we make this interesting?” he jumped, as if he had gotten an idea. The unsub reached behind himself to grab a pistol, clicking off the magazine safety to put one bullet in one of the eight slots, leaving the other seven free. He pointed it at Spencer’s temple.

Her entire body shook the thought of seeing Spencer’s lifeless body, held up only by the ropes and that sick man’s grip around his curls. The same curls she grabbed as she kissed his face when she wanted his attention.

“I’m going to ask you some questions...” he said, voice dripping with sickening sweetness as he turned the roulette, “and if i don’t like your answer i’ll pull the trigger! Let God decide what I do with you. Sounds good?”. He wanted to humiliate Spencer.

However, Spencer made the mistake of not answering him. He was quickly reminded as the barrel of the gun pointed right between his eyes, pulling the trigger, a loud bang! sound expanding through the barn.

“I asked you a question!” he suddenly yelled into Spencer’s face.

“Y-yes, Sir” he whimpered, shaking at the ease at which the man pulled the trigger.

“Good, you’re learning”.

**

She experienced it by bits. Hotch’s hoarse voice. “Talk to me Garcia”. “We’ve got coordinates”. Everybody rushing to the SUVs. Tripping over her own feet on the way to the car. Morgan’s voice. The iPad, which still carried Spencer’s whimpers and the man mocking tone.

“I’ve got your diary, Spence” his sing-song voice didn’t match the disgusting man she was looking at. Nothing made sense.

“And I wanna know why...” he drew out the ‘y’ as he looked for something between the worn pages between his hands.

Of course she knew Spencer owned a diary. But she was mature enough to keep her hands to herself and her eyes on her own pages as he wrote on his, eyebrows creasing as he recalled all which he had experienced during the day. His face would twitch slightly at the memories, both good and bad, as he basically described his day word by word.

“...why did you wait until you were 24 to lose your virginity?” he asked in a clear attempt to humiliate and ridicule Spencer in front of his team.

“I-I didn't-” he could barely finish a word before a sob wrecking through his body at the humiliation, chest rumbling and voice wavering. “I didn’t want to lose it before, i w-wasn’t in a hurry” he rushed out. The man brought the pistol to his own chin, tapping it as he thought. “Hmm... I’m satisfied with your answer. Let’s dig deeper, shall we?” he asked as he went back into the pages.

“ooh! This one is new” that sick bastard was having fun with this, completely unaware that the team was less than 5 minutes away from their location.

“Care to read what you wrote three days ago? Right here” he turned the pages so Spencer could read them, though he was painfully aware of that entry he was talking about. His body shook violently. “P-please. D-don’t ma-make me do t-this” he whimpered, body feeling defeated.

“Wrong answer” the unsub said before pointing a gun at him and pulling the trigger.

A shriek was heard from the iPad. The SUV went silent.

“He’s alive” she whispered, unable to speak up. “He-” she swallowed. “He’s alive. We’re not there, yet” her mantra became a reminder that she hadn’t been quick enough to help him. She had the tools to save him. Every second she had the knowledge to save him and didn’t was another second she remained impotent at the risk of losing the love of her life.

Spencer’s voice spoke from the iPad.

“C-can you at-at leas-st turn off t-the ca-amera?” he said between sobs.

And it hit her.

What hurt him the most wasn’t the memories he had to relieve, but the fact that the rest of the team would have to hear his most intimate thoughts. His deepest secrets.

He could bare the pain. The humiliation? That broke him.

“Aww” the unsub chuckled mockingly, “are you embarrassed?” he said, slouching down to look into his eyes. “Well too fucking bad!” he screamed into his face, spitting with every word he spewed at him. Spencer’s sobs got louder.

“O-okay okay!” Spencer caved, accepting the journal that got shoved into his face.

“Read, pretty boy” the unsub sang. That son of a bitch was having fun.

“We’re two minutes away, Y/N” Hotch said. Maybe it was he sobs, which were barely audible to herself, having accepted them as second nature after all the heartbreak she was experiencing, but Hotch needed her to be okay.

His own heart thumped into his chest, feeling as helpless as he’d ever felt. Seeing a member of his team - someone he was supposed to take care of, someone he was supposed to keep safe - was sobbing as he was physically and emotionally tortured. But he was painfully aware of the feelings Y/N was experiencing. The sheer fear that was running down her veins at the idea of them running out of time.

After a few sobs, Spencer started reading, interrupting himself occasionally with his whimpers:

“It’s been three months. Today, three months, seven hours and forty-six minutes ago, she did what I didn’t have the courage to do. She asked me out. “I’ve been wanting to ask you pretty much since the day i met you” she had said. Those words keep ringing in my head like a beautifully written symphony, intrinsically designed to make me face my deepest fears. Opening my scars one by one, dissecting them and reaching the simple conclusion that i was a coward.

She didn’t say it, but what she meant was “i’ve been waiting for you to do it, but you never did, so i had to”. We wasted time - a time so precious and sacred - because i was a coward.

I’ve never felt like this before. I never understood a love so deep as to move something so stubborn as the human spirit. I’ve read textbook after textbook, and novel after novel, and still I’ve never learned more than with her. But I was a coward. And i wasted her time. I fear that I still am.

A knife twists at the thought that i should fall short of the mark. It’s impossible for me to ever be enough for her”.

Her heart broke at this confession. Even worse at the thought that he wouldn’t’ve told her, instead inhaling fear and exhaling rejection at every breath he took next to her.

“We’re here” she heard Hotch, looking at her. She grabbed a bottle of water and dropped the iPad, not hearing the teams objections at the lack of vest and preparation and ran into the barn.

She isn’t sure if she’ll ever stop hearing his whimpers. As she runs closer, she hears them louder and louder, decorated with sobs and cries, and small, meaningless replies to his abusers’ mocking words.

She kicked the door down, the loud bang booming across the room, only helping in raising Spencer’s sobs as he feared the sound had been the result of a certain trigger being pulled. As she looks at him, she realises just how much pain he’s been put through.

She remembers Orwells words, much like how Spencer had remembered them mere hours ago. And disagrees, wishing over and over, praying to the Gods that she would be the victim of such atrocious abuse. She wished she could take his pain. Morgan joined her at her side mere seconds later, yelling. “FBI! Put the gun down!”.

Spencer used the last bit of energy to lunge forward, hitting the unsubs stomach with his head, successfully getting him on the floor for Morgan to apprehend. Y/N rushed to Spencer’s side, untying him, as his now nonexistent sobs grew louder and louder, not only at the prospect of getting out of that horrible place alive, but also at the knowledge that Y/N had heard what he had so dreadfully recited.

Spencer collapsed into her arms, crying into her in the same way she was crying into him, and she wondered just how to take away all his pain. So they cried into each other, desperately grasping each others hair, skin, clothes, anything that would make them feel like they wouldn’t have to spend another damned second without the company of each other.

Spencer was the first to break the silence.

“I need-” he stopped, coughing. She reached for the bottle of water she had brought with her because she knew he would need it. She always knew what he needed.

He chugged it desperately, stray drops falling down his chin at his eagerness. He took a deep breath trying to steady his lungs.

“I need to get out of here” he choked out.

She grabbed him under the shoulders, careful not to hurt him - not being successful, realising that there wasn’t much of him the man hadn’t hurt. Y/N pulled him out, sitting down on the grass with him. Their legs intertwined, pulling each other impossibly closer. They kissed, over and over again. Not as an act of any sexual relevance, but as a reminder that they had each other in any way, shape or form. That they weren’t out of time.

The team was certain they would stay there, never letting each other go for another minute.

After what felt like seconds in their time-starved little world, she broke the silence, which had only been filled with their own cries and occasional sobs.

“Spence” she grabbed his chin to look into his eyes. They were dull, red and hooded. He was exhausted. “Mhmm?” he let out, looking into hers. She was his solace.

“How could you ever think you were anything but completely and unequivocally enough?” she whispered the words he dreaded.

But as Spencer looked into her eyes he knew, better than he had ever known anything, that he was enough. And she was enough. He realised that which she had known for the past three months (possibly longer). They fit like two marvellous puzzle pieces.

Her hands grabbed his cheeks slowly, as to not hurt or startle him, pulling his forehead into hers. “Baby, I can’t imagine anybody else waking up to me every morning. You’re so much more than enough”, she planted a small kiss on his forehead before resuming her position. “I’ll remind you every day of the rest of my life if that’s what it takes for you to believe it”.

And with their eyes closed, foreheads and noses pressed together and legs tangled between each other, pulling each other close, closer - around grass and voices and his abuser pressed into the hood of a police car, they only felt each other. With their shaky breaths, even shakier voices, fearing any words that would leave them in case they triggered a cascade of tears down their oh so vulnerable cheeks, they were more than enough.

***

I hope y’all liked it!! Feel free to let me know by liking, reblogging, or sending me a message :) 

super cool kid taglist: @lady-anon-x​ @spencerreid-mgg​​ @eoupe​ @inlovewithbabygirl​ @galaxydefenderjulia​ @username2002​

[luulapants]

Stories We Tell

When I was eight years old, my parents split up, and my dad, as divorced dads are wont to do, got a shitty apartment in a weird neighborhood.

The building was two stories with sixteen units. There was an in-ground pool out back, unheated in the shade, so the temperature hovered just above arctic. Half the time, instead of swimming, you ended up fishing a dead squirrel out and changing your mind. The laundry room in the basement flooded every time it rained. The appliances were junk, constantly breaking. The doors and locks, too. The landlord never fixed anything.

I didn’t give much thought to the neighbors until I was fourteen, when my dad got full custody. Someone broke into our ground floor apartment around the same time (and by “broke in,” I mean waltzed through a door with a broken lock) so we moved to the second floor, where it was a little safer. Our new balcony looked out over the rodent graveyard pool.

Over the next few years, I developed a colorful picture of our neighbors:

--

Across the hall was Doris, a madam and a raging alcoholic. She was in her fifties or sixties, but there were always astoundingly attractive young women coming and going from her apartment. She threw parties where she was the oldest woman by about three decades.

On quieter nights, Doris would sit on her balcony and get wine-drunk. If my friends and I were walking past, she would lean over the railing and shout super appropriate things at us like, “Izzat yer boyfriend, honey? R’you two using protection?!”

One time, my dad did some legal work for Doris. She paid him with two cases of wine.

(My dad doesn’t drink wine, but somehow, it was still gone by the end of the summer. I dunno, Dad, it’s a mystery to me. Couldn’t tell ya.)

--

Next to Doris was a big old dude that used to stand on his balcony in whitey tighties and watch me and the other kids while we waited for the bus. I never learned much about him, except he was creepy with a capital “Eeeugh.”

--

Across the hall from Captain Underpants were the Five to Eight Guys. So called because there were at least five of them living in that two-bedroom apartment, but no more than eight. They all looked vaguely the same: twenty-something stoners with a lot of tattoos and piercings and a fashion sense that hovered somewhere between Hot Topic and PacSun, while somehow managing to be worse than either.

I don’t think all of them were drug dealers. But at least some of them were. Absolutely. People would go into the apartment and re-emerge thirty minutes later in a veritable cloud of smoke. Our coat closet shared a wall with them, and my coats always reeked of pot. I mostly started smoking because people assumed anyway.

The summer after my Freshman year, they hung blankets up around their balcony to create an extra room. I told my dad, “That’s smart – there’s so many of them living in there, so they made an extra bedroom.”

My dad looked up at the tell-tale red glow of a grow lamp peeking out through the cracks of the blankets and told me, “Kiddo, I don’t think it’s a bedroom.”

--

Below the Five to Eight Guys were two elderly nuns.

Yes, really.

They never had a mean word for anyone: not the madam, not the drug dealers, not the creepy old man standing outside in his briefs. That wasn’t to say they had a kind word for them. Their go-to was smiling and minding their own fucking business.

I liked to think of them as our building security. Because, sure, we had no real security to speak of. The doors were always propped open, and I don’t think there was a functional smoke alarm in the entire building.

But surely God wasn’t going to let anything too bad happen to a building with nuns living in it, right?

--

Next door to the nuns was the strangest of the whole lot: Crazy Cat Man. He was Russian, in his seventies, and had lived in the building since before the landlord added the ‘no pets’ rule to the lease. And I’m pretty sure Crazy Cat Man was reasons A through Z for that rule.

I never got a real count on the cats, but it was somewhere in the ballpark of ten. But ten cats wasn’t enough to sate Crazy Cat Man’s love for animals. Oh, no.

One winter, he decided to feed the geese, and hangry geese laid siege to the building for weeks.

Another time, I heard the landlord’s voice downstairs. He was screaming, “What the fuck is the matter with you!”

And Crazy Cat Man was yelling back, “I no let squirrel in the apartment! I never!”

He had. He had spent weeks feeding the squirrels, getting friendly with them. Then he started cracking the patio door to lure them inside.

Crazy Cat Man was married. His wife had albinism and was photo-sensitive, so I only ever saw her outside once.

See, once a year, Crazy Cat man delivered phone books. It was his only job. He spent the rest of the year trying to fix his van up so it would run well enough to deliver the phone books. He was constantly working on it. Every part he put in, the van attacked and destroyed like a body rejecting a donor organ.

One day, he hadn’t pulled the van quite far enough into his garage, so when he lowered the garage door, it hit the back bumper and got stuck. That day, I learned that his wife’s absolute favorite thing in the world was watching her husband be incompetent, because she came out of the apartment for once. He couldn’t get the door back up, so he had to try to crawl under it to get inside the garage, and she was standing there shouting, “My husband is an idiot! My husband is an idiot!”

My dad and I stopped to watch this seventy year old man crawl under a mechanically compromised garage door. My dad said to her, “If he’s not careful, he’s going to be a dead idiot.”

The albino wife turned to him and hissed, “I should be so lucky.”

--

My senior year of high school, the recession hit, and my dad’s law practice went under, and my older brother died of a brain aneurysm. A week after I graduated, my dad told me we were going to be evicted, and I’d have to find somewhere else to stay until I went to college.

We moved everything out of the apartment, so nothing would be trashed when they evicted us. My dad ran off to the mountains to contemplate suicide (as one does), and, for about a month, I had this big, empty apartment to myself. My friends and I threw parties, got drunk. Hot boxed the bathroom.

And I slept in a sleeping bag on the floor in the living room, because it felt too weird to sleep in my old room with none of my things in it.

Late one of those nights, alone in my empty apartment, I heard screaming outside. I went on the balcony. All the neighbors were coming outside to see what the noise was.

On the property behind ours, across from the squirrel-killing pool, there was a huge cottonwood tree, maybe fifty feet tall. On the end of this long branch near the top, there was a raccoon. Closer to the trunk were two more. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard a raccoon scream, but it’s almost human sounding.

One of the two at the trunk rushed at the third, and forced it farther to the end of the branch. Then the two raccoons started bouncing the branch. The one at the end screamed.

I think we all realized what was happening at the same time, because I heard someone downstairs say, “What the fuck,” at the same time I thought it.

It took a long time. Pushing the raccoon back, then bouncing the branch, then pushing it back again. By the end, the one raccoon was hanging from the end of the branch, which was pointing straight down. It was screaming continuously.

When it finally fell, you could hear the thud.

I heard the same person say, “What the fuck,” and I had no idea who it was.

--

If found out years later that the rumor in the complex about my dad was that he’d been a lawyer for the mob, and he got on someone’s shit list, and that’s how he ended up so broke. And it’s why he had to disappear so suddenly.

The truth was, my dad was a good lawyer, but a terrible businessman. His clients were mostly small businesses and everyday people. When they didn’t pay him, he assumed it was because they didn’t have the money, and he didn’t want to rub it in by asking.

When I heard that theory, it occurred to me that I had created characters out of our neighbors with no real regard for what was true or logical, only what was interesting. I think that night with the raccoons was the closest I ever got to any of them, as real people. Standing in the dark, faceless, watching something horrible that we had no control over.

I’m not sure what the rumors about me were, but here’s the truth: by all logic, I should have been a pretty miserable kid. My dad had untreated depression, and sometimes he stayed in bed for days. When there was no food in the fridge, I assumed it was because we didn’t have the money, and I didn’t want to rub it in by asking. I went to friends’ houses to eat. That guy that broke into our apartment when I was fourteen? He had a brain tumor, and he thought I was his girlfriend. And I should have been scared shitless that a forty-something year old man had tried to get in bed with me before my dad woke up and beat the bajezus out of him in front of me.

But instead, I started making these stories about the weirdos we lived with. I loved them. I was obsessed with them. I talked about them all the time.

“Say, Julia, how are things at home?”

“Well, you’ll never guess what the Five to Eight Guys were up to yesterday, let me tell you!”

--

I saw Crazy Cat Man two years ago. He’s still delivering phone books, and he looks nothing like I remember him.

[midnightmoonkiss]

The Lure Of Nightfall

Izuku Midoriya X Fem! Reader

Summary: Boredom truly does hit differently when it’s late at night and you can’t sleep. So, in an effort to make your night interesting, you head over to your best friend and long-term crushes dorm, seeking to play games. But boy oh boy are you in for a surprise.

WARNINGS!: Voyeurism, Masturbation, Very Spicy stuff. 18+!

Category: Smut

Word Count: 2.8k+

A/N: It’s very late at night, I’m very tired, this fic is weird, thank you.

Just To Clarify:

Reader has a shapeshifting quirk

Reader is female

(f/c) means favorite color

Time is night

Can be any year you want it to be

Part 2

A gentle spring breeze blew in through your opened sliding glass door, (f/c) curtains dancing along with it to the soft beat of crickets chirping in the yard.

The moon was full, shrouding the Earth with her calming white glow. 

The world looked so peaceful during this time of night.

No loud music blasting from Jirou’s room,

No gremlin noises echoing down the hall.

No nothing.

Just the wind, crickets, and the annoying, ever-present sound of you breathing.

It was nice.

Calming, even.

The lights were turned off, leaving the room beautifully exposed to the moon beams making their way in through the glass, curtains, and the open door itself.

Had it not been for the fact that it was only 11:00PM, and that it was indeed a Saturday, you would have been asleep long ago.

But no.

After a full week of exciting activities and horrendous studies, your body was too buzzed from the unusual surplus of sleep to actually feel tired.

You were so full of energy, and yet, now would be the  perfect time to lay down and drift into dreamland, lulled by the sounds of nature.

What’s a teen to do other than to stare blankly at her glow-in-the-dark star covered ceiling, trying to force herself to feel tired?

There was absolutely nothing to do.

A mental checklist popped into your head for the third time that night:

Homework? Completed.

Shower? Taken.

Studying? Finished. 

Perhaps you could study more?

No. The subjects you were currently learning in all of your classes were too boring to attempt to read at this time of night.

You wouldn't fall asleep to the pages droning on about something so infuriatingly bland, rather, you’d just be annoyed and end up slamming the hard-covered textbook closed.

With an exasperated sigh, you rolled onto your side, picking up your phone just to blindly scroll through the same three apps you always used to pass time.

How boring.

This was definitely a waste of time.

Oh!

A dorky smile crept onto your face smooshed into your pillow as a great idea popped into your head.

You could annoy your best friend, Izuku Midoriya!

Yes, he was always awake at this time studying! 

His devotion was admirable, you sat up with a nod at this thought. If only you could follow in his footsteps.

Then again, he liked studying, and you didn’t.

He always seemed so energetic when you studied together, whilst you were trying not to construct another shitty paper airplane with the homework paper.

Maybe you could convince him to play a game? Watch a movie?

You’ve visited his dorm enough times to know he has a PS4 hidden away in his cabinets.

You jumped up, bed creaking beneath the sudden strain as you went about putting on some socks and a very, very thin slip on hoodie. It was almost like one of those slip-on things that were partially see-through that  people would wear at the beach.

Even if you have been friends for years, poor Midoriya never could handle the sight of you in just a tank top.

The weather was never a good excuse, apparently, and it wasnt that bothersome to wear something over you.

It was much cooler than wearing a t-shirt, considering all the ones you owned were thicker than necessary due to them being from cheap stores and not places at the mall or something.

Who needs fancy clothes when those were comfy and fit just fine?

Plus, Seiyu, or ‘The Japanese Walmart’ as Americans liked to call it, was where you got Deku hooked on his horrible fashion sense and love for clothing that displayed it’s legitimate name on it.

You smiled as you finally slipped your white slippers on, he was such a dork.

The only problem left was sneaking out.

It was past curfew, and visiting the boys dorm at this hour would probably get you a one-way ticket to the principal's office if you tried sneaking down and up the stairs.

Times like these are when your quirk truly came in handy - Shapeshifting.

It took a toll on your body when you stayed in a form for more than an hour, but you didn’t plan on being something for more than a few minutes, honestly.

So, cracking your knuckles, you stepped out onto your balcony.

Ah, a distraction.

You couldn't help but lift your head and stare at the moon, not realizing just how vibrant it was tonight, outshining the vast majority of stars. Another breeze swept your hair away from your face, ticking your cheeks as it did so.

Sometimes you need to take a step back and appreciate the little things, right?

But you couldn’t waste much more time, you really, really wanted to beat Izuku at Mario Kart again.

He was so cute when he whines in defeat.

With a giggle, you jumped up onto the ledge, letting the burning hot sensation of your quirk getting ready to work flow through your veins. The bigger the animal you turned into, the more painful it was, but you didn’t need to be big. You needed to be small, a little magpie.

You jumped, a bolt of electricity flashing through your body as your bones crunched around your ears. And just like that, you were now a little black and blue bird fluttering in the sky above your balcony.

It used to be terrifying to try to change whilst jumping, but it didn’t take long for logic to replace fear. Truth or the matter was: it’s easier to change when you’re already in motion.

With a small chirp, you flew around the building, wings flapping every few seconds, suddenly in no real hurry and just enjoying the rush of wind against your feathers.

It didn’t take long to reach Midoriya’s balcony, his bright red curtains easy to spot from a mile away.

His curtains were open partially tonight, though. Good! Maybe you could scare him! 

It was pure evil, trying to scare him, but he typically always caught onto your antics before you had a chance to enact them.

He was quite perceptive!

But maybe, just maybe, if you were lucky, you could.

Still, he didn’t typically have his curtains open. And his door was open too?

Maybe he was taking the chance to bask in the moonlight and breeze as well?

His light wasn’t on..

Oh boy. 

You hoped he wasn't asleep.

You tweeted involuntarily in disappointment at the thought.

Without haste, you swooped down, wings fluttering momentarily as you perched yourself on his balcony’s railing.

Shaking your wings out and settling down on your bird feet, you anxiously peered through the window.

What you saw shocked you to your very core, and it was hard not to shriek at the sight and light sounds being carried out the window.

Izuku Midoriya, your best friend, long-time crush, sweetest and most innocent cinnamon roll you’ve ever known to exist, was currently masturbating on his bed.

His covers were seemingly half-hazardly kicked to the floor, body arched, completely nude, head thrown back into the pillow, and feet digging into his bed as he furiously pumped his cock, hips snapping up to try and match the pace set.

Oh my god.

Oh my god.

Oh my god.

“Ah~ Ha-ah!  Hah.. Nnhghh..!”

Oh god, oh god!

Why was this so hot!

But no!

This was so, so wrong!

You can’t believe you were watching this!

Your feathers ruffled up in disgust for yourself, how could you stand here, watching this?!

This was a private moment, one solely for Midoriya, and not your peeping eyes!

And yet.

You couldn’t seem to turn your head or fly away.

No, you stood there, taking in the glorious sight and the oh-so sweet sounds he was making.

His jaw hung open, moans spilling from him with every thrust, eyes squeezed shut as he no doubt sunk into the world of his vivid imaginations.

Funnily enough, the moon’s light was shining down on his cock, 

copious amounts of pre-cum glistening on his fingers.

He was so cute.. Even now.

A dark blush stained his cheeks and neck, almost completely hiding away his freckles but shining from the tears streaming down them.

Why was he crying?

Your tail twitched.

Was he.. That sensitive? So lost in pleasure that he didn’t realize he was crying?

You watched in amazement as he spread his toned legs shimmering with sweat wider, his left hand now coming down, teasingly tracing his abs just to feel them twitch, fingers gliding through his forest-green happy trail to cup and massage his balls.

His body jolted, more pre-cum oozing out of his angry-red tip,

“G-gahh! S-so g-oo-d! So goodsogoo-D! Ahh!” He babbled, a thin string of saliva escaping the corner of his mouth.

Your heart was hammering in your tiny chest, knowing how horrible of a human being you were being, how opposite of a hero you were acting, but yet it was hard to find the fucks you had left to give in this predicament.

It wasn’t everyday you get to see such a beautiful sight.

He was so fucking handsome.

His body was practically glowing thanks to the natural light and sweat, and by god he was ripped!

You already knew that before, but seeing his muscles twitch under his skin as he brought himself wave after wave pleasure was a lot different than him swimming laps at the pool.

His unruly green locks were plastered to his sweaty forehead, giving you the best view of his face twisting in pure ecstasy.

You wondered what he was imagining with each moan, wondering who he was thinking of with every thrust.

It was Ochaco, surely, or perhaps Tsu or Momo? Mina, even. They were all such good choiced, even if the thought of him imagining your now sudden rivals made bile creep up your throat.

Maybe..

Just maybe it was you..

The idea sent tingles down your spine.

In truth, he was thinking about you.

This whole thing started unknowingly because of you.

You had worn thigh highs today instead of your usual knee high socks, and all day Midoriya's eyes were glued to your perfect thighs.

He was in heaven with every step you took, eyes hazily staring at how some of your thigh spilled over the edge.

He wanted to touch them so bad, feel the soft skin in his palms, massage them, kiss them, hold them open as he sunk his throbbing member into your dripping heat.

He wanted you so bad.

It was a challenge to last this long, waiting till Aoyama and Mineta were fast asleep before he could indulge in his fantasies.

He was no stranger to fantasies about you, often having them a few times a month for nearly two years now.

You were just so perfect and beautiful..

His hand glided up and down his cock faster, the other one leaving his full balls just to go and play with his hard nipples and ground himself a bit.

He was so lost, his usually very observant self didnt even hear the flapping of wings or feel the birds’ stare on him as he worked himself to his imagination.

In his head, you were beneath him, moaning like a slut as he fucked you relentlessly.

Those glorious thighs tightly hugged his hips, desperate to not let him pull away so far from you.

Your breasts bounce with each slam on his hips, nipples red and glistening with saliva as he was previously sucking on them just to hear you squeal from the unfamiliar feeling of teeth and a tongue on your buds.

Your combined moans and the sound of skin slapping against wet flesh made him dizzy with desire.

Your neck was covered in his marks, a sense of pride swelling in his chest at the sight. You were his and those marks proved it. They’d be hard to cover up, the entire class would know you’re his and his alone.

He stared down at your sinful face, tongue flopping out of your mouth, eyes opened and pupils blown wide as you tried to maintain intimate eye contact.

“(Y-Y/N)!” He moaned, body twisting on his sheets.

He was so close, he could feel it. 

The familiar burning sensation of a hot coil twisting around in his stomach, the tensing of his thighs.

He ripped his hand from his nipple just so he could rub his palm in circles over his overly-sensitive head, middle finger occasionally dipping down to rub over his oozing slit.

“Ahhh~! Fuck! F-Fuck! O-oh God! I’m s-so! Ghhnn! Ngnaaahh! I’m so close!!” he cried out.

In his head, you were already pushed to the edge, walls strangling his dick as you screamed his name, orgasm wracking your trembling body, fingernails digging into his scratched up back.

His teary eyes snapped open having been ripped from his fantasy, irises rolling back in his head.

His body was on fire, his cock twitched in his hand before the coil finally burst. 

“(Y/N)!! Ahhh! AHH! I- I lov! You! Ggggh-!”

He was cut off with a loud, guttural moan, white ropes of thick cum spurted from his tip. His body spasmed, hands now clutching the sheets for dear life as the last rope of cum ejaculated from him, coating his heaving tummy and chest in his own white seed. 

Your eyes widened, body trembling as you watched it all go down.

He moaned your name! 

He!

He thought about you, just as you did about him!

The sudden desire to stuff your hand between your human legs throbbed in the back of your head as you watched him try and catch his breath.

It was amazing how much he came.. For such a small dude, no less!

His body fell lax, thighs finally dropping down onto the mattress as he just sat there.

You were about to leave, truly, you were, until you made eye-contact with him.

With his post-orgasm clarity, he finally felt the eyes burning into his skin, making his anxious head snap in the direction of the window.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw a bird, a very common one at that, perched on the railing.

Wait.

He left the window open!? Oh god!

His hands slapped on his cheeks in embarrassment.

He hoped no one heard him!!

He could be so unknowingly loud when in the heat of the moment…

Sniffing his embarrassment down, he reached over, grabbing some tissues to clean himself off with before throwing them in the trash and hopping up to go and rinse himself off in the bathroom.

He was amazed to see the bird still there when he came back out, watching his nude self walk across the room to his Allmight boxers he threw to the floor not long ago.

Why the hell were you still there, you ask? Well, honestly leaving slipped your mind. 

But you couldnt tear your gaze away.. You were so intrusive… but he was so fucking hot.

It was definitely strange to see him walk out of the bathroom nude, and you thanked the gods when he put on boxers. Your body could not handle seeing his flaccid dick swing about, you’d probably die of even more embarrassment.

You hopped back in surprise when a finger suddenly appeared in your little face, behind that finger an innocently smiling Midoriya.

“Hello, little bird~” He cooed softly, voice unusually deep and scratchy from previously screaming his heart out.

Your body was already burning hot beneath all those feathers, but he certainly wasnt helping!

To see him so blissed out, so relaxed after such an intimate thing, it was too much!

You chirped, leaning forward to nuzzle his finger as a good-bye before hopping back to spread your wings, finally gaining the guts to fly the fuck away and back to your dorm.

He stared in wonder as  the bird turned the corner, not giving it’s unusual behavior much thought before going to collapse on his bed for a much needed sleep.

Electricity buzzed through your body again as you flew into your dorm, sloppily transforming back and landing on your ass.

You heaved, shakily propping yourself up on your hands and knees as your body burned in desire, throbbing in places previously nonexistent in your bird form.

Not making the same mistake as dearest Izuku, you shut  and locked your sliding glass door, pulling the curtains closed as you flopped onto your bed, hand immediately burying itself between your thighs.

It was wrong before, and it was even more wrong now, but at the moment, you didn’t care.

You just wanted to sink into the fantasy similar to his own as you lost yourself in pleasure.

You’d deal with the repercussions at a later date, especially since it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out it was obviously you on that balcony.

[whenisitenoughtrees]

look me up and define me (please remind me) (part 1/2)

He is whatever puts Thomas first. But that changes so often that he doesn’t know what he is beyond that.

He is Janus when he is alone, but only when he is not someone else.

Janus has never minded the fact that his identity is fluid, ever-changing. He acts as whoever Thomas needs him to be in the moment, and if that means he doesn't know much about himself as an individual, well. It's never been a problem for him.

Until he gives away his name, and then it very much is.

Chapter Warnings: identity issues, non-graphic panic attack, references to self-harm

Chapter Word Count: 4,493

Pairings: platonic TDLAMPR, implied Moceit (though you don’t have to read into it)

Notes: This fic started as a oneshot but ended up being more than 10k, so I’m dividing it into two parts, the second of which will hopefully be posted Friday. Also, this fic as a whole was inspired by the awesome ‘The Record Player Song’ animatic by @turbovickii, which, 10/10 would recommend if you haven’t seen it

Chapter one podfic by @titheinironside

(part 2)

(masterpost w/ ao3 links)

Janus isn’t his name.

Or rather, it isn’t, and it is. He’s never had to think too hard about it before, has never had to struggle for the words to put it all into context. Janus is his name, yes, the name he chose for himself back when Thomas was young and they were all bright-eyed, foolish children, and his preferred moniker wasn’t Deceit but rather something entirely different.

Janus. Roman god of beginnings and of ends, of transitions, of doorways, of passages that lead on and on. God of time, and god of duality. He thought it a fitting descriptor for himself; he is sweet lies, lies that soothe and lies that heal, and he is bitter truths, truths that no one wants to hear, that he must keep to himself lest they do more harm than any lie could. If that is not duality, he doesn’t know what is.

But he is, at his core, whatever Thomas needs him to be. He is fluid in a way that the others are not, able to shift and change depending on the day, depending on what Thomas requires of him at any given moment. He is Thomas’ ability to lie, but only when it benefits him; when a truth would do the most good, he suggests that, instead. He wants Thomas to succeed, to do whatever it takes to better himself, to pursue his ambitions, but only until he pushes himself too far, works himself into exhaustion or questions himself too much. Then, he is the voice that tells him to relax, to take time for himself, to put his health above his goals.

He is whatever puts Thomas first. But that changes so often that he doesn’t know what he is beyond that.

He plays the part of the others, too, whenever it is necessary. They are used to it by now, so used to it that by the time he reveals himself to Thomas, they react with anger rather than surprise or alarm. But what they do not know is that for every time they catch him out, there are five more times he goes undetected, slipping in amongst them, a snake in the grass. He mediates arguments as Morality when the real Patton is nowhere to be found, uses Logic to pull them down to earth when Logan is too buried in his books and theories to realize there’s an emotional problem, uses Creativity’s bravado to advocate for Thomas’ dreams when Roman is busy dreaming himself.

He keeps the mindscape running smoothly. And when he is not one of them, when he wears his default skin, scales and all, he is known to them as Deceit. Nothing more, nothing less. A convenient villain, uniting them all in their distaste. It makes him sick, sometimes, their naivety, the knowledge that without him here, they would run Thomas into the ground all while professing their love for him. But he swallows it down, hides it within himself with all the other truths he hoards, and he carries on another day.

He is Janus when he is alone.

But even that is not true, not really. He is Janus in the snatched moments he has for himself, when there is no pressing crisis, nothing for Thomas to be doing or saying or making, when he can sit alone in his room with the jukebox crooning soft melodies. He is Janus, but only sometimes, because even alone, he draws on the traits of the others. Logan, when he needs a clearer perspective; Roman, when he needs an ego boost; Virgil, to indulge in his worries; Remus, to indulge in darker thoughts; Patton, when he is feeling weak and lonely and wanting, when he wraps his arms around himself and wants to pretend that he does not stand in solitude.

He is Janus when he is alone, but only when he is not someone else.

The Roman god Janus has two faces, one to look to the past and the other to the future. None to look to the present, and that is how he feels, most days, like there is none of him-as-Janus present at all, like every face that he wears is a false one, and his namesake has only two but he has far more than that.

He’s not sure he even knows who Janus is, besides the name, what he likes and what he dislikes, how he feels and how he acts when there is no pressure on him to keep Thomas well. He likes chess and philosophy, but he only ever plays as Logan, only uses that knowledge when he’s wearing the necktie and glasses, because otherwise he can’t get anyone else to listen. He dislikes surprises and stupidity and the ever-present knowledge that nothing in Thomas’ life is guaranteed, due to a society that actively works against most of its members, but are those his concerns or Virgil’s? He only indulges in stronger emotions when he takes Patton’s form, so who’s to say that the feelings are Janus’ at all?

And he almost never gets to act when there is no pressure on him to keep Thomas well. That pressure is always there, has always been there. Without it, who would he be?

In the end, Janus is just a name. Whether it’s his or not is difficult to say. And that has never been a problem for him; he exists to benefit Thomas, after all. He doesn’t feel the need for a solid identity beyond that, not like the others do. He only picks a name in the first place because everyone else does, because Creativity-that-is-Remus needs someone he can look up to, because Anxiety-that-becomes-Virgil needs to know that not everyone is out to get him. It’s a display of trust, in a way, but trust only leads to disaster, to angry two-toned words and pounding footsteps and a blank space in the wall where his best friend once lived, so really, what is the point?

Janus is his name. But he’s not particularly attached to it, and he’s content to leave it there.

But then, there is the callback, and the wedding. But then, he fights for Thomas’ desires harder than he has ever fought before, and when that turns sour, he returns to fight for Thomas’ failing mental health. He does so as Logan, and as Deceit when Logan’s form no longer suits the goal, and he’s not expecting them to listen but he still tries.

But then, everything changes.

But then, Thomas says, I don’t know that we are, and he believes for a moment that he is imagining all of this, that he has slipped into Roman’s face and has allowed a daydream to get just a bit out of hand, because to hear those words out of Thomas’ mouth is something he has fantasized about for so long.

But then, he has a chance at acceptance, a chance to change it all so that he no longer has to struggle to make his voice heard, a chance that all depends on using the right words at this exact moment, and in the split second before he begins to tug his glove from his hand, he panics. Because he is Deceit right now, and the amount of sincerity that he has allowed to spill from his lips has already been taxing. What else can he possibly say to earn their consideration, to earn a place among them?

And then he remembers the importance they place on names. From there, the decision is practically made for him.

He says the words as if on autopilot, an odd mixture of nervous and numb, and he has to check to make sure he has not accidentally shifted into Virgil’s hoodie rather than Deceit’s capelet as his fear thrums though him. Roman laughs, and he lashes out in return, though more due to offense at the idea that the name is stupid rather than because of a personal connection to it.

When Patton says it back to him, he can’t stop himself from flinching, just a bit, can’t stop the widening of his eyes, the stilling of every muscle. He should be glad, he thinks, because this shows that Patton, at least, is willing to give him a chance, is willing to let him in just a little. But all he can feel is a pervasive sense of wrongness, because he isn’t supposed to be Janus here. Here, he is Deceit, is acting as Deceit. Janus is for isolated, personal moments, and for the life of him, he cannot change that, cannot draw out what little he knows of Janus while there are others here, while Thomas is here.

It’s all wrong. And it only gets worse.

Patton wants to spend time with him, after that. Mostly, he’s glad to accept, is glad of the opportunity to endear himself, to cultivate a relationship that once would have been impossible. Patton invites him to bake, to watch movies, to play games, even to debate morality with him, and he does, and he finds himself enjoying both the activities and the company. But every so often, he catches himself, happiness curdling and souring, because these are all things he enjoys when he is Patton, when he is filling in the cracks that form in Morality’s absence. He has never done any of this as Janus, and every time Patton calls him by the name, he feels dirty, feels like the worst kind of imposter, because in these moments, he doesn’t feel as though he is acting as Janus so much as acting like a reflection of Patton himself, and if Patton knew that, knew that the person he thought he was befriending barely exists at all, he would be devastated.

For some reason, he thinks he would do just about anything to avoid that. For the sake of Thomas’ mental health, surely, and not because he cares about Patton as an individual. To do that would be to open a door that he wouldn’t know how to close. Better to leave it shut and locked, and to ignore the fact that the knob is already turning.

“You okay there, kiddo?” Patton asks him. “You seem a little distracted.”

He manages a smile, and he knows it comes off well, because that is what he is practiced in. “Perfectly fine,” he says. “Sorry about that.” He sniffs the air. “This batch definitely won’t burn if you leave it in any longer.”

And Patton gasps and bustles around, pulling the cookies from the oven, the redirection working perfectly.

Leave it shut and locked? Please. The door is open, he thinks. Perhaps it would be a disservice to both of them to pretend otherwise. Because he finds himself almost unbearably fond of Patton, these days, and guilty for feeling so. As soon as he has a moment alone, he has to shift into Patton’s form to get his emotions under control, to abate the itching tightness of his skin. Deceit isn’t made for these pleasant interactions, and Janus is about as tangible as mist, but he can hardly be Patton in front of Patton, so he wears a mask of scales and speaks past the acid burning in his throat.

The smart thing to do would be to stop. To retreat, to cut off these developing ties before they can do him any more harm. But for all the cognitive dissonance this is causing him, he doesn’t want to lose Patton’s friendship, his smiles and warmth. He’s not sure how he used to live without it.

The door is open so wide that it might as well be hanging off its hinges.

He can grin and bear it when it’s just Patton. For a while, it seems as though it will remain that way. Roman, at least, doesn’t want to see him, and when Virgil isn’t avoiding him, their interactions are far from cordial. And when he is tired, he can sink back into the dark side of the mindscape where Remus awaits him, and Remus, at least, has never expected him to be anything that he is not. He never calls him by his name, either, instead blurting out whatever obscene nickname pops into his head in the moment.

He has never been so glad of that.

But then, Logan invites him to play a game of chess, and for a full three minutes, he is overjoyed, because he loves to play chess, and Logan is the only one who could possibly give him a challenge, and the fact that Logan voluntarily wants to spend time with him is nothing short of amazing. The euphoria lasts until the board is set and they are facing each other, and he catches himself just before shapeshifting into Logan’s form. And he remembers: he has only ever played chess as Logan, learned to play in the first place so as to better imitate Logan. He has played against everyone in the mindscape but Logan at one point or another, providing a distraction and logical advice when Logan himself was unavailable, and none of them were any the wiser as to just who commanded the opposing set of pieces.

Except Remus, but he just thought it was funny.

It is all he can do to focus on the game. All he can do to put up a decent showing, though he loses. All he can do to prevent himself from mirroring Logan’s mannerisms by mistake, out of habit.

He doesn’t know how to do this as Janus. His face is frozen, but his hands are fidgeting, seeking release. Normally, he would copy Logan’s calm, his professionalism, but he can’t do that when Logan is sitting right across from him, sure to notice anything odd or out of place.

“It was a good game, Janus,” Logan says when they are done, and he wants to scream, because Janus doesn’t belong here either, doesn’t belong sitting by a chessboard. That has always been Logan’s place, and it disturbs him somewhere deep inside to be playing Logan’s game, wearing Deceit’s face, being called Janus. So much so that once the game is completed, he retreats to his room and stays there for a week, refusing to answer the door.

It should help. He is not Janus often, but when he is, it is here, in the sanctuary of his own room, his own bed.

It doesn’t help. If anything, it unsettles him even more, because the lines that hold his identities apart have been blurred so far that he spends the entire week uncomfortable in his skin, unsure of who he’s trying to be at any given moment. He shifts into the others, stares at their reflections in the mirror, but that doesn’t make things any better.

He needs help. He has to admit that, at this point. And there’s only one other he can think of to go to, only one other who might have experienced anything close to this tailspin.

He knocks on Virgil’s door.

Virgil opens it promptly enough, though his expression morphs from neutral to pissed off immediately upon seeing him. “Fuck off,” he snaps, and slams the door shut in his face.

He knocks again. And when he gets no reply, he keeps knocking, knocking and knocking and knocking.

“Don’t worry, I definitely couldn’t do this all day,” he calls airily, and Virgil jerks the door open again, face now firmly set in incandescent rage.

“What the fuck do you want?” he spits, all nerves and anger, all fight and no flight at all.

“Can I talk to you?” he asks.

Virgil stares at him, wordless, eyes narrow. And then, he holds the door open, allowing him to step inside.

“Make it quick,” he bites out, closing the door behind him. “What the hell do you think you and I have to discuss?”

He raises an eyebrow at that, because really? They have everything to discuss, and the longer they put it off, the more difficult it will be to start. Their relationship as it stands now is untenable; left to rot much longer, and it will begin to actively harm Thomas, which is something he absolutely cannot allow.

But that is not what he is here for.

“For both of our sakes, I won’t answer that,” he says. “I just have a question for you.”

Virgil glares. In his hoodie sleeves, his hands are balled into shaking fists. It hurts in an odd sort of way, to see how much he hates him. “Then ask it and leave,” he says, his voice threaded with trepidation. He already knows that he won’t like what he hears.

Well. That makes two of them. He knows he isn’t going to like asking this question.

“After you first told the others your name,” he says, “how long did it take for you to like hearing it?”

He has the dubious pleasure of seeing shock, pure and unfiltered, pass across Virgil’s face.

“How long--” Virgil starts. “What are you even--? I don’t know, I've never thought about it. I… I never disliked hearing it. I mean, I told them in the first place because I trusted them.” A barb, though not an undeserved one. “It was weird, but I wouldn't have told them if I didn’t want them to know it. Why are you asking me that?”

It’s exactly the answer he didn’t want. He knew that Virgil wouldn’t understand what he is going through, that Virgil, at his core, is exactly what and who he appears to be, unlike him. But he hoped that there would have been an adjustment period, at least, that there was a time when Virgil, so used to being called by his function, deemed the monster under the bed, would have found it disturbing or at least unnerving to be named so casually.

“Absolutely no reason at all,” he says, and turns back to the door. “Thank you for your time.”

“Nuh-uh.” Virgil catches him by the arm, and he freezes. “You’re not leaving.”

He breathes out slowly, tries not to show his growing fear. The effects of Virgil’s room are beginning to take root, but in his heart of hearts, he knows that’s not the only reason for the erratic pounding of his pulse.

“Oh?” he says, and fights to keep the tremor from his voice. “I thought you wanted me to ask and leave? Do continue with the indecision, it never ceases to delight me.”

“No,” Virgil says, voice hard. “You don’t get to do that. Not until you tell me what the hell you’re talking about.”

He should never have come here. He draws on Deceit like a cloak, like armor to protect him, armor woven of sarcasm and misdirection and misplaced confidence. Be what he expects, and he will never see anything different; that is a lesson he learned years ago. But the persona is shaky, muted by his confusion and by the bleed-through of every other guise he’s ever adopted. To give ground in front of Virgil is like diving into shark-infested waters with an open wound, but the smoothness he seeks to emulate slips through his grasp.

“It’s a question I need answered,” he says. “No more than that.”

“Bullshit.” Virgil tugs on his arm, and despite himself, he turns his head to face him. There is something odd flickering behind the irritation in Virgil’s eyes, something strange in the tilt of his head that he cannot place. It puts him ill at ease; to be unable to read Virgil is inviting danger, especially in Virgil’s own territory. “If you don’t like them saying your name, then why did you tell them?”

Caught.

He can feel all the blood draining from his face. His vision tunnels, focusing on Virgil’s face, on the expression that is anger and something that cannot possibly be concern, because they burned their bridges far too thoroughly for that. His head throbs, his breathing hitching, and he knows that he needs to leave, now, before he spirals further, because showing weakness in front of another is reprehensible but far, far worse if that someone is Virgil--

“Janus!” Virgil says, alarm threading through his voice, and that is absolutely the last straw. He rips his arm from Virgil’s grasp and sinks directly out, falling through the mindscape until he is in his own room, gasping for breath. His pulse races, his heartbeat roaring in his ears, and when he turns to look in the mirror, he finds that he has wrapped himself in Virgil’s form as his fears threaten to overwhelm him, hoodie and eyeshadow and all.

He curls up on the floor and tries to remember how to breathe.

It takes a long time for him to calm himself, and when he manages to look up again, it is Patton staring back at him. He likes being Patton, likes it more than being any of the others, because Patton is warm and soft and for all his flaws, fundamentally good in a way that used to repulse him but no longer does. Being Patton feels like the closest thing to a hug that he will ever get.

He forces himself to shift again, forces himself into Deceit before stumbling from his room and into the commons. Remus is laying on the couch, half-naked, watching some gory anime and eating ice cream straight out of the carton. He pauses for a moment, watching him, taking comfort in the familiarity; everything changes, but Remus, at least, is a constant, like the north star if the north star showed its love by threatening violence at random intervals. For the briefest of seconds, he shifts into Remus and then back to Deceit again, and for once, feels steady.

Remus takes notice of him eventually, sitting up and baring his teeth in a grin.

“How’d it go with Virgey?” he asks.

He decides not to question how he knew where he was.

“Right, because I want to talk about it,” he grumbles. “Can’t you tell?” He strides over to the couch, keeping as much dignity intact as possible as he shoves at Remus’ legs until he moves them, providing room for him to sit. “What are we watching?”

“Parasyte,” Remus offers, but there is an odd tone in his voice. When he looks, he sees that Remus is watching him now, rather than the screen, and something in the strangely level gaze is discomfiting.

“What?” he snaps.

“Nothing,” Remus says, raising his hands. “Just, are you good? I mean, we can switch it to something you wanna watch, if you want. Like, uh, that one show where everyone’s dead? You like that one, right?”

“The Good Place,” he mutters. “No, that’s alright. You’d be bored to tears.”

Remus frowns, but doesn’t respond. It takes another full episode-- he thinks; they must be in the middle of the plot, because he has absolutely no idea what’s going on-- for him to speak again, which is strange in and of itself. A quiet Remus never bodes well, because a quiet Remus means that either he is hurting, or he is seriously contemplating hurting someone else. No jokes, no disgusting gags, just a desire to inflict pain for pain’s sake. It doesn’t happen often, but it is never pleasant when it does. All too often, it is Remus himself who becomes the victim of these tendencies, Remus who tears into his own flesh rather than harming another.

But then, the silence is broken, and he almost wishes that it weren’t.

“If something was wrong, you’d tell me, right, Dee?” Remus asks, and he swallows, hard.

“Of course,” he lies, and of course it is a lie, a lie hissed out between his teeth, because there is nothing that Remus can do about this, so what would be the point in telling him about it? Remus cares, even if he shows it in odd ways, and it would only hurt him to be presented with a problem that he can do nothing to solve.

“Good,” Remus says, settling back in. “‘Cause you know, if anybody was hurting you, I’d smash their skull in. Like a watermelon. Bits going everywhere. Hey, have you ever seen those videos of people crushing watermelons with their thighs? Do you think I could get someone to do that to my skull?” He shoves a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth, speaking around it. “I bet it’d be real juicy.”

“I bet,” he murmurs. He doesn’t have the energy to respond further.

What is he supposed to say? He has no doubt that he could set Remus on any of the others easily; all it would take is a sentence, a white lie, and perhaps not even that. Oh, so-and-so was a dick to me, Remus, don’t you think they would like to be introduced to your mace? Remus would jump at the chance for a bit of sanctioned mayhem.

But no one is hurting him but himself. He wonders what Remus would do if he told him that. Could he get Remus to bash his head in, to hit him until whatever is broken in his brain comes loose? Or until he can’t feel anything at all anymore, and wouldn’t that just solve every one of his problems? No more confusion, no more angst, no more churning in his stomach whenever someone calls him by a name or a label that feels no more like his than any other.

The idea is more attractive than it should be.

He excuses himself not too much later, and Remus’ eyes bore into his back as he returns to his room, telling himself that it’s a strategic retreat, that he’s not running away.

He knows it for the lie it is, little though he wants to admit it to himself. And as he stands there in the center of his room, trying to decide whether it is worth it to continue with the day or if he should go to bed now, avoid the world for a little longer, his reflection in the mirror catches his eye, and he turns to stare at it. A face stares back, and he supposes that the face must be his, but he doesn’t feel like it. It looks as though it is mocking him, taunting him with his unreality.

He shudders and turns away, but the name rings in his head. Janus Janus Janus. A person he should know but that he can no longer find, even here. Once his room was a safe haven, but now it feels like a prison, trapping him between identities that he no longer knows how to escape.

He has his back to the mirror, but the reflection is still there, he knows, and a shiver creeps down his spine, filling him with something like anger and something like fear.

He turns off the lights.

Writing Taglist: @just-perhaps @the-real-comically-insane @jerrysicle-tree @glitchybina @psodtqueer @mrbubbajones

[jungshookz]

no but like what if one day ballet!yn was being teased by some of the girls in the class during their pre-class stretch about how she thinks balletteacher!jm is a SMOKE n shes like gUYS SHUT UP but jimin is like >:))) oh oKAY

➺ pairing; park jimin x reader

➺ genre; balletteacher!jiminiverse!!! mr. park is back n hotter than ever!!! everyone seemed to miss him so he’s bACK i’m going to be honest with u there is some sexual tension here but we all saw that coming 

➺ wordcount: 3k

➺ what to expect; “park jimin is a tall glass of water and we are all thirsty.” 

➺ optional reading: not necessary but you can read this drabble before getting started on this one! 

➺ note; this was sent in a whiLe ago!! better late than never >:-)i have no idea why i was suddenly inspired to write aLL of this tonight because i have to wake up at 8 and it is currently 2:15am and i haven’t showered yet but i had to do it for ballet teacher jimin because just like y/n i too am hot for teaCHER

                                  »»————-　♡　————-««

“surprise, surprise… look who’s late again!” seulgi smiles a little toO sweetly as you stumble into the classroom

“the bus was late, it’s not my fault-“ you grumble as you drop to the floor to join the other girls who are in the middle of warming up

“well, you should think about leaving campus a little earlier if it means coming here on time like the rest of us.” seulgi sighs as she turns side to side to check herself out in the mirror

“oh my god-“ you gasp in mock shock in the middle of pulling one of your leg warmers on

seulgi glances at you from the mirror “what?”

“…is that a pimple i spot?” you point up towards her forehead and her eyes widen in horror as she leans closer to the mirror

“what?!” she smooths her fingers over her forehead furiously and you can’t help but snort

that’ll keep her occupied for the next twenty minutes or so

you let out a grunt of relief as you focus on working the kinks out of your shoulders and your neck while rolling your ankles at the same time

pop crackle snAP

ever since the incident (aka you attempting a grand jeté and failing miserably leading to a very sprained ankle) you’ve been taking it easy buT you went to a check-up over the weekend and the doctor says your ankle seems to have healed veRy well and you can go back to doing what you were doing

as long as you knoW what it is you’re doing, of course

maybe stay away from the grand jetéing for now  

“so, y/n, when are you going to tell us what went down between you and mr. park?” ailee nudges your thigh with her foot and you let out a light laugh before raising a brow

“what are you talking about?” you arch your back and hiss quietly when you feel a particularly loud crAck

goD that’s good

“you know, when he basically kicked us all out of the room just to help you and your ankle.”

“you weren’t even there when we got kicked out, ailee.” wendy snorts and ailee rolls her eyes

“i know, but still!!”

“i don’t know what stories you guys have concocted but he basically just patched up my ankle for me and that was it.” you shrug while rolling out your pointe shoes

“don’t play dumb, y/n!” lisa calls out from across the room and you twist slightly to look at her “park jimin is a tall glass of water and we are all thirsty-“

“oh my god, you guys!” you interrupt her before she can finish and a couple of the girls burst into giggles “he’s our teacher!”

“i don’t know about you but i’m veRy hot for teacher-“

“it’s unprofessional because we’re his students and we shouldn’t even be talking about him like this-“

“but you have to admit you’ve thought about kissing those lips-“

“do you guys remember that time he yawned and stretched and his shirt rode up a little bit because i definitely do-“

“oh god and he smells so fucking good all the time-“

“and that ass just does noT quit!”

“i would kill like ten people if it meant i could sit on his face.” seulgi mutters as she smooths some tinted chapstick over her bottom lip

“seulgi!” you laugh and peel your leg warmer off jusT to hurl it at her “it’s concerning that you have a set number of people to kill just to sit on someone’s face”

she catches it right before it hits her arm before throwing it right back at you “it’s more concerning that not once have yoU ever openly admitted to thinking that park jimin is insanely attractive-“

“first of all, we should be addressing him as mr. park because he told us to-“ you point out as you slip your leg warmer back on “and secondly, i’m here because i want to become a professional ballerina, not because i want to gawk at my teacher like the rest of you-“

“hey, we wanna be professional ballerinas just as much as you do, but who says we can’t have a little fun?” jisoo giggles before wiggling her eyebrows

“you know, there’s only one logical explanation i can come up with to explain why you don’t gush about mr. park the same way we do.” seulgi sighs as she takes a seat across from you and begins to stretch out her legs

“enlighten me, detective kang.” you can’t help but roll your eyes because wHY are you guys still talking about jimin when you should be talking about,,.,.,. like.,,.,. stretching? or somEthing else related to ballet and noT your teacher

also

on a slightly unrelated note

you and seulgi have kind of become friends? but not really

you guys have a best frenemy kind of relationship if that makes any sense

the two of you are still very much competitive with each other anD will not hesitate to take jabs at each other when the opportunity arises

but other than that you guys sort of get along

except when performances are around the corner because she gets super bitchy about getting whatever role it is she wants

anyways

back to it

“because you have a crush on him.”

you immediately freeze in the middle of tying the ribbons around your ankle

“i’m sorry, i what now?”

“you have a crush on him!” seulgi smirks veRy cockily “think about it! you don’t like it when we talk about him because you want him allllll to yourself and you can’t even fathom the thought of another girl lusting over him-“

and this would be one of those moments where seulgi likes to get under your skin just to get a reaction

you poke your tongue against the inside of your cheek as you take a second to consider the possibility

do you have a crush on your teacher?

he’s mr. park

you can’t have a crush on mr. park because he’s mr. pARK

he’s very strict and controlling and sometimes a little mean like that time he yelled at you in front of the class for being the only who missed a count  

but also he can be really sweet and caring and surprisingly funny and you’ll never admit it to anyone for as long as you live but one class you started daydreaming (this was the class he yelled at you about missing the count lol) about what it’d be like to hold his hand and kiss his cheeks and dig your nails into his oh-so broad back as he-

your movements slow down slightly as you think about what happened on the night of the incident

“you really are something, you know that?” he laughs lightly as he smooths the bandaid over your cut

you can’t help but let out a little huff “…is that a good thing?”

he gives your knee a little pat before reaching over a tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear

“miss y/l/n - it’s a very good thing.”

“that is the most ridiculous theory i have ever heard in my entire life-“  

“every single time we talk about how attractive jimin is, you get all quiet and blushy in the corner and you neVEr contribute to the conversation-“

“yeah, maybe because there’s a line of professionalism and respect that i need to stay behind unlike yoU guys-“

“oh, and now you’re getting all defensive because you know for a fact that every word coming out of my mouth is TRUE! just admit it, y/l/n, you have a crush on our teacher-“

“i mean, i think i have a crush on mr. park-“ jisoo chips in and you and seulgi immediately turn to glare at her as if to say stay ouT OF IT

“i- you know what, this is just ridiculous!” you scoff and get up off the ground “i’m going to go and get some water to cool off-“

“oh yeah, you’re gonna cool off? is thinking about jimin’s face in between your legs getting you all hot and bothe-“

“jesus ch- lalalaLALALALALA-“you immediately stick your fingers into your ears and start babbling loudly while seulgi starts speaking louder and louDER

“you loVE HIM!!! YOU WANNA KISS HIM ROMANTICALLY!!!” seulgi’s practically shrieking at this point and the other girls are having a hoOT

in fact some of them are chiming in to make fun of you as well

“oOoooh y/n do you wanna hold his hand-“

“do you think about him in class sometimes?? a couple of us have noticed that moony look in your eye from time to time-“

“maybe if you ask him nicely he’ll help you with stretching-“

“y/n, look, this is my demonstration of what you wanna do to mr. park-“ lisa turns around so that her back is facing you and she wraps her arms around herself before sliding them up and down sensually anD making kissy noises

“oh, real mature, lisa-“ you take your fingers out of your ears and wince because woW these girls are loud “okay, everyone shuT UP-“

everyone quiets down a little but they’re still giggling and whispering among each other

“what’s it gonna take for you people to drop this duMB theory??” you cross your arms and raise your brows as you tap your foot on the ground impatiently

“all you have to do is admit that you have a crush on our teacher and i’ll be satisfied.”

“but i don’t have a crush on him!”

“y/n, need i remind you that i’m, like, slightly psychic? because you are totaLLy lying through your teeth right now.” seulgi inspects her nails casually and you let out a quiet huff

okay

you know what

yEs

maybe you do have a crush on jimin

maybe it’s true that you don’t like it when the other girls talk about him because a part of you selfishly wants him all to yourself

maybe everything seulgi’s said is truE

and the whole class obviously knows that you like jimin because a) seulgi is the biggest gossip on the planet and b) even if seulgi said that the earth was flat, everyone would believe it regardless because she iS the top dog around here

and if you admit it then hopefully they’ll leave it alone forever

“alright, fine!” you clear your throat and stand up a little taller “i have a crush on park jimin.” you gasp dramatically and make little jazz hands

you know what

if you’re going to confess you should do it right

you should go aLL out

“in fact, i think mr. park is a complete smoke show. i think he’s the hottest person i’ve ever seen in my entire life, and yes, i have noticed his pillowy lips, and i did notice that time he stretched and revealed his glorious six pack to the world, and i am very much aware that he smells like he stepped straight out of a shampoo commercial, and yes, you’re right, he has a veRY nice ass - and you know what, seulgi? i’ll say this one just for you.” you narrow your eyes and lean forward a little bit “i would 100% love to sit on park jimin’s face because i, y/n y/l/n, am 110% attracted to him.”

seulgi nods slowly and presses her lips together

it almost seems as though she’s stifling a laugh

…which was not the reaction you were expecting

you were expecting her to get all gloaty and i-told-you-so about it

“wow. and now everyone’s gone quiet!” you point out the obvious before crossing your arms

her and the rest of the girls get up off the ground and immediately form a line before getting into first position

and you know exactly what that means

every single hair on your body prickles to life when you hear someone slurping up the last of their drink behind you

“good afternoon, ladies.”

oh

my

god

“good afternoon, mr. park.” everyone (except for you because you are understandably moRTIFIED) responds politely

you feel like your feet are glued to the ground and you want nothing more than for a black hole to appear and swallow you entirely

“i said, good afternoon, ladies.”

it takes every fibre in your body to twist around slowly and you force yourself into first position

you’re a mere one and a half steps away from jimin and that’s making you more nervous than you already are

you swallow thickly

jimin offers you a sly smile as he runs a hand through his (newly dyed!!) ashy silver hair before taking his sunglasses off

“g-“ your throat closes up as soOn as you try to speak “good afternoon, mr. park.”

you feel like there’s a rock in your stomach

you also feel like you’re about to projectile vomit everywhere

why do bad things always happen to you

WHY

you just-

you just openly confessed that not oNLY are you romantically attracted to your teacher, you are also sexually attracted to your teacher!

great!

good one!

love that energy for you!

you know what

maybe it’s not as bad as you think

maYbe he didn’t hear anything

maybe you’re in the clear and you’re just overthinking it

“would you like to join your peers in line, miss y/l/n?” jimin asks and gestures towards the girls

“yes, sir.” you nod stiffly before quickly heading over to join lisa at the end of the line

the room is dead quiet as jimin sets his belongings down before taking his jacket off

oh god

he’s wearing that thin white shirt that gets a liTtle see through when he’s sweaty-

“how bad was it?” you lean over to whisper to lisa

her face is getting pink from how hard she’s trying to not completely burst into laughter right now

her cheeks are literally tremBLING

“he was here for the opening line and he was here for your final statement, which i think, pretty much summed up your entire speech.”

i would 100% love to sit on park jimin’s face because i, y/n y/l/n, am 110% attracted to him

i would 100% love to sit on park jimin’s face because i, y/n y/l/n, am 110% attracted to him

i would 100% love to sit on park jimin’s face because i, y/n y/l/n, am 110% attracted to him

yep

it’s official

you want to: die

you’re already sweating through your unitard and you guys haven’t done anything

“no talking please, ladies…” jimin hums as he plugs his phone charger into the outlet

maybe you can just pretend like you lost your voice so you won’t have to speak for the rest of eTERNITY

“okay!” jimin claps his hands together before crossing his arms “i’m gonna rock your world-” you’re verRy aware of the fact that he maintains strong eye contact with you the entire time he says that “with some grand jeté’s today. everyone ready?”

“yes, mr. park.” everyone responds simultaneously except for you agAIN

“-es mr. park.” you blurt out at the last second

you stop nervously picking at your chiffon skirt when you see jimin’s eyes flicker down to your hand

oops

surprisingly enough jimin doesn’t jump straIght into the grand jetés right away (he’s taking it easy just for u because he’s still worried about ur ankle)

he makes everyone practice balancing and standing in the final position which is basically just standing up straight on your pointes

also anoTher surprising thing that he’s doing

he said that today was more of a casual class so he’s letting everyone talk amongst themselves while practicing

of course you haven’t said a word because your lips still feel like they’re glued together

also you decided it’d be best if you hung out at the very baCK of the classroom just to attempt to avoid being spotted by jimin

“arms straight… chest out… very good…” jimin slowly makes his way down the back row and you curse quietly when you feel yourself wobble slightly

your eyes widen in surprise when you feel two hands place themselves on your hips from behind

“back straight, miss y/l/n.” jimin reminds you gently before sliding a finger from the small of your back up to the centre of your back “arch here. chest out.”

his other hand slides around so that it’s resting right on your stomach and you feel like your entire body is on fiRE “squeeze your core tight.” he mutters into your ear

you feel your cheeks heat up almost immediately because that should noT have been as hot as it was

christ almighty

get it toGETHER

“you seem a little distracted today, miss y/l/n.” jimin murmurs quietly as he moves to stand in front of you

he leans back a little to look at both your arms before reaching over to raise your left arm a bit “everything alright?”

“everything’s alright, mr. park.” you somehow manage to keep yourself composed even though jimin is basically staring two holes into your soul right now

“mhm.” jimin reaches over and places his pointer finger under your chin before raising your head a little

you lock gazes with him and you notice a little glimmer in his eyes “can’t have you sprain your other ankle because you were too busy thinking about sitting on my face now, can we?”

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

requested drabbles masterlist

[be-dazzled]

Hey! Can you do a prompt where gray is jealous and juvia has no clue. Thanks!!

Writer’s Corner: Here you go! I’ve been watching a lot of video clips of the new FT Game and got some inspiration to write! And it surprised me how straight and fast I did this one. Like, straight and pure English words. Phew! Hope you like this.

Masterlist

Prompt: Jealous Gray and Juvia Doesn’t Know

Finally. Finally, Gray and Juvia finished the fight with that odd Dodecapus – a sea creature with twelve tentacles – wreaking havoc on the small town. But in Gray’s opinion, they could have finished the job far earlier than they actually did. He couldn’t help but think that maybe, he and Juvia fell out of sync. It had been awhile since they went on a job together. Maybe, they should train and take job requests together more often; that would solve the problem.

He stretched his arms behind his head and cracked his neck from right to left. Damn, that felt good. Every muscle in his body was sore and not the good kind. That freaking Dedocapus did him good; wouldn’t back down without a fight, that silly thing. Gray really needed to get some rest. He wondered if Juvia would be okay to postpone the travel home to tomorrow. She probably would. Remembering how she had wanted to spend the night together before, just the two of them, he was almost certain she’d agree. A silly smile crept up his face and his eyes wandered over at the Water Mage walking distractedly beside him. Yeah! That’s right. Juvia had been distracted since they came to town. Could it be the reason it took them a little over half a day to fight the Dedocapus? Because she couldn’t focus? It wasn’t her usual ‘Gray-sama Trance’ distraction either. So, should he be worried?

“Juvia.” He called out but it seemed like the water mage didn’t hear him say her name. She was still very much preoccupied, looking out to her left and right as if expecting something would just jump at her out of the blue.

Now, he was worried.

He stopped and turned fully to her, bumping into the woman who walked right into him. Gray caught her by the arms and helped her steady herself.

“Are you alright?” He tried very much to keep the worry out of his voice, which was unnecessary since Juvia didn’t seem to hear him ask.

She just looked at him, dazed for a second, before she regained her composure and slapped that practiced smile across her face. They were together for too long for Gray not to recognize that fake smile.

Well, not together “together” but…

“Juvia apologizes, Gray-sama. She must not have seen you for a moment there.”

Juvia not seeing him even for a second? Now, he should really, really be worried. Gray withdrew his hands before Juvia get the wrong idea and kept them in his pockets.

“Well, yeah. You seem… out of it.” Gray could see her think for a moment. Then, she seemed to have reached a decision and, to dispel any of his worries, Juvia put up a brighter personality, raising her fists in the air and declared, “Juvia will be more mindful.”

Knowing Juvia, she’d rather keep to herself whatever it was that was bothering her in order not to be a burden to him. He’d really wish she’d tell him but Gray was never one to push. He would wait until she was ready. For the meantime, he asked Juvia about postponing the travel home and maybe the next day, when she was feeling a bit better, he’d ask her to stroll around the town. He’d make up some lame excuse about buying everyone souvenirs, which if anyone who’d hear would call bull.

“Would you mind if we stay in this town for a while? I’d like to catch up for some much needed rest and–”

“–Juvia-san?”

An unfamiliar voice called out from behind the Water Mage. Unlike Gray, Juvia seemed to recognize it. She turned around to meet the owner of the voice while Gray searched his memory for that parted black and white hair walking up to them.

“Totomaru-san?”

Then, it hit Gray. This guy was one of Phantom Lord’s Element 4 and Juvia’s acquaintance. But the same guy that hurt his friends. A bitter taste burned in Gray’s stomach as that bright smile crept up that Totomaru-san’s face, looking so happy to see them – to see Juvia. Gray glanced at his partner to check if she was reacting to him the same.

She was.

Totomaru caught up with them, smiling ear to ear to see Juvia.

“Wow, it really is you.” He looked momentarily taken-aback, an amused smile freezing on his face. “Didn’t recognize you without the…” Gray inwardly snickered watching the man, as if in a game of charades, motion to refer to Juvia’s old hairstyle. “Without the rolled hair.” He finished when none of them could guess what he was referring to with that silly bounce of his open palm. Gray guessed but he wasn’t feeling too friendly to engage.

“Are you guys… visiting?”

Gray liked the hesitance he could sense from this Toto-whatever punk. He was probably thinking he and Juvia came to town together, which was actually the case. Not in the sense that Toto-whatever might have thought but still…

“No, Totomaru-san. Gray-sama and Juvia are here for a mission.”

“Oh, good!”

But he didn’t like the sudden rush of relief and a new confidence found by Totomaru-bastard.

“Would you like to get-together while you’re in town? It’s been a while since I last saw you.”

And definitely hated that slimmer of hope shining in his black goofy eyes. The bastard.

“W-well…”

Gray crossed his arms, a bit elated at Juvia’s hesitation. ‘That’s it, Juvia. Say no,’ the smug on his face said.

“Gray-sama did say he wanted to stay awhile longer.” She glanced at him with a sheepish smile – a bit asking and a bit expectant.

Gray dropped his arms and coughed into his fist to bid some time to recover. Well, he wasn’t expecting that. He didn’t expect Juvia would actually like to hang around that guy. But Gray had yet to make a decision when Totomaru chided in.

“I can show you around town then.” He pushed. “A lot has changed since you moved to Magnolia.”

That bastard was treating Gray like he wasn’t standing there. He probably didn’t notice the Ice Make mage since that punk’s eyes were laser-focused on Juvia.

His Juvia.

“I mean, look at you. You even got prettier.”

“Thank you, Totomaru-san.” Juvia beamed at him, blushing at the compliment.

It didn’t sit well with Gray but he shouldn’t be getting pissed at someone giving Juvia a compliment. There was nothing wrong with someone complimenting Juvia because she really was pretty. Always been pretty. Very much attractive, if he’d let himself admit. He eyed the man who called Juvia pretty, looking him from head to toe, sizing him up. Totoma-whatever didn’t look so bad but he had nothing compared to Gray, of course. He was Gray-sama to Juvia, the best guy that ever existed on this planet. Juvia adored him. Remembering that, Gray’s confident smirk returned. Hah. That Totoma-punk could keep dreaming on. Juvia was devoted to Gray. She was his.

But Totoma-punk made her smile with that silly compliment.

His gloating smirk quickly dropped and getting ‘pissed’ at a simple compliment became the understatement of the century because a vein in his head was about to pop.

“Gray-sama?”

He withdrew his ‘not so discreet’ glare from the fire-prick and looked at Juvia.

“If Gray-sama isn’t too tired, maybe we could…”

“I guess. We wouldn’t be able to catch the train anyway.”

Juvia chirped, clapping her hand together and declaring that it’s a date.

Forget the sore muscles. Forget his tired feet. Forget his body screaming for a rest. He wasn’t going to let that Totomastard (Totomaru the bastard) be alone with Juvia. No way.

…

Gray wasn’t the jealous type. He wasn’t. In fact, you could never put the words Gray and jealous in one sentence. Never. He just hated the guy. Hated the man who hurt his friends. Yeah, that’s why he was so ready to throw his fist down the bastard’s throat. That’s the only reason. That’s all there was to it, really. Totomastard was a former Fairy Tail enemy.

But weren’t Juvia and Gajeel also a former enemy of Fairy Tail? Gray said don’t ruin his reason with logic.

“I’ll go get us more beer.” Totomaru excused himself from their table in the town’s famous open night market.

When he walked out of earshot, Gray could feel the tension from his shoulders go away and he could finally breathe. The bastard could really taaaaalk, reminiscing about the memories which didn’t include Gray. Granting, it was a ‘Phantom Lord Days’ memory which really did not include him, Gray still felt like the Fire Mage, and apparently, Romeo’s Magic teacher, went out of his way to make him feel out of place. He snickered. Phantom Lord my ass. She’s ours now. She’s Fairy Tail’s. Besides, it didn’t even sound like they were actually close.

“Does Gray-sama not like this place? Juvia can ask Totomaru-san to find a new–”

“–It’s fine, Juvia.” He stopped cracking his neck and pretended like he was just scratching the back of his head.

“If Gray-sama is tired, we can end the night early.”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.” He shot back what remained of his beer and smashed the can on the table with his fist. He only noticed now the other two crushed beer cans next to him. “Besides, you seem to be enjoying yourself.” He gave her a small smile so Juvia would stop worrying about him.

“Oh, right. It’s just… it’s been a while since Juvia returned to Oaktown.”

Upon mentioning the name of the town, it suddenly hit Gray. He hated himself for not noticing it earlier or not remembering about the town when he first read the name on the job request.

“You used to live here, right?” Idiot. That’s why she was so distracted earlier. “Before you transferred to Fairy Tail?”

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. You are a freaking, dumb-ass droopy eyes. He could hear Natsu’s voice in his head.

“Yes.” Juvia took another sip from her own can like a lady.

“Is that why you were so…” He stopped himself before he could say something that Juvia would take to blame herself. “I mean, you were kinda out of it, is all.”

“The people around here used to be afraid of Juvia, the Rain Woman.”

Gray could clearly picture out what ugly memory brought that gloom in her usually bright blue eyes. The alcohol might have helped too so he was going to take that away from her. Alcohol and Juvia never mixed well together. Gray grabbed the can from her hand and finished it.

“Well, that’s all in the past now.” So was Totomaru. He flattened the can again and tossed the crumpled tin can next to the others. He might have been very casual when he said it but the words helped her, somehow, because now she was staring at the group of crushed beer cans on their table. The sorrow that wet her eyes quickly disappeared and replaced with something Gray was more accustomed with.

“K-k-kiss.”

“What?”

“I-i-indirect k-kiss!”

Gray wasn’t sure anymore if it were his words that brought her out of that dreadful memory.

“Oi! Were you even listening?!”

…

“I-I don’t remember you being this… h-heavy.” Gray grunted, expelling a long breath. Juvia wasn’t really that heavy but Gray wasn’t in the condition to carry her all the way to their hotel room after all that fighting with a weird sea creature and hating on Juvia’s former guild-mate.

“Juvia is heavy?” The Water Mage fell out of the bed Gray put her on, bawling her eyes out at his comment. Great. He managed to insult the sad drunk. Didn’t Erza warn him never to talk about a woman’s weight? Now, cue in the water works.

“Oi!” Gray aimed to pull her up and put her back to bed but Juvia surprised him when she pulled him down with her on the floor, leaning against the side of the bed, threw her arms around him and cried against his chest, mumbling about her endless efforts to lose weight.

“That’s not… you’re not… you’re not heavy. I was just… Forget what I said.”

But she kept crying into his chest, wetting his shirt with her river of tears. Gray let her, getting used to this Juvia – the sad drunk. He tried to soothe her, stroking her hair and patting her back. After her cries died down to just bouts of sobs, Juvia pulled away from Gray, but only far enough so she could look at him right into his onyx eyes. What she did next shocked Gray’s soul out of his body. Now, he had to add ‘hits people’ to Juvia’s drunken mannerisms.

“Why would Gray-sama not take advantage of Juvia?”

“What?!”

“Even when it’s just the two of us, Gray-sama wouldn’t make a move on Juvia.”

“I’m not that kind of guy.”

Gray could still feel the heat of Juvia’s palm on his cheek. Man, that woman’s slap was something. Undeniably, Juvia was one of the strongest wizards in Fairy Tail. But instead of getting mad, Gray was smiling. He was quite amused, honestly. Sober Juvia would never ever hit him like that.

Wow.

Then, sad drunk Juvia started hitting him again. The later ones didn’t have much strength and intention than the first slap. But they still hurt so Gray caught her wrists in each hand to stop her from striking him.

“Everyone’s hitting on Juvia but Gray-sama wouldn’t even make a move.” She accused between sniffs.

“W-w-what? Who?! Totomaru?” Gray could feel his blood boiling. He was right! He was right, all along! That guy was pretending to ‘get together’ when he was really planning on stealing Juvia away. What a prick! “When? When I left to take a leak?”

He wanted to hit himself for leaving Juvia alone with that bastard.

“Gray-sama was even making googly eyes with Totomaru-san.”

“What the hell! When did I ever do that?”

“Gray-sama never looked at Juvia with such passion.”

Of course, it was with passion, Gray thought. Passion to throw the guy off some building.

“I was glaring at that bastard!”

“Glaring?”

What were left from Juvia’s sobbing were occasional hiccups as she studied Gray for a moment, analyzing what he just said. Then, the hitting started again.

“Why wouldn’t Gray-sama pay attention to Juvia like that?”

Oh, hell. There was no reasoning out with a drunken woman. So, Gray pulled her back against him, wounded his arms around her so tightly that she couldn’t even move a muscle. She tried to wiggle her way out of his hold, to hit him some more he guessed, but Gray was determined and very much sobered up. What, from all the hits he took from her that would last him a lifetime? Any alcohol from his body was whooshed out by the first slap.

When the alcohol started to wear out and Juvia finally calmed down, Gray decided it was time he also gets some rest. He lifted Juvia off the floor, carrying her on both arms. His actions didn’t seem to startle her but quite the opposite effect. Juvia snuggled comfortably against his chest, mumbling something about warmth. Gray just wrote it off as drunken talk and gently lowered Juvia on the double mattress and tucked her in. She looked peaceful now that she was fast asleep. Finally, Gray could get himself some shut-eye. As he looked around to find his own place in the room to sleep for tonight, his eyes caught the glow on her tear-stricken face as the moonlight seeped through the window and hit her cheek. He dried the tears with the back of his hand, a bit guilty for causing those tears that tainted her beautiful face.

“Beautiful.” He whispered. “I don’t even know how it’s possible.” Gray knelt beside the bed, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind Juvia’s ear. “Everyday you grow even more beautiful.” But his smile was strained by something he’d been keeping to himself for a very long time. “So, if I make a move on you, I’m afraid I won’t be able to hold back.”

Gray closed his eyes, every moment of him wanting to give in to his feelings played in his head. He took a deep breath to ease the burden he’d caged in his heart. He convinced himself he needed to be more patient. As soon as he opened them, Gray’s onyx eyes sought her lips. He started to lean in, to allow himself a taste of something he’d deprived himself. But when their lips were about to touch, a voice in his head had kept him from impulsively giving into his desire once again. It wasn’t right to steal a kiss from Juvia while she was asleep. He wasn’t that kind of guy. Sometimes, he’d hate himself for not being that kind of guy. But Juvia was too special for him to disrespect her like that. So, like always, Gray held himself back. He pressed a kiss on her forehead instead, rose to his height and slept in a corner of the room, as far away from Juvia as possible.

[writer-aspirantus]

A rant about inspiration, writers block and damning them both

So often have I stared at a blank page and thought, I don't know what to write, words have left me, and my muse is somewhere far away. And while I have had moments where I genuinely did not know what to write, more often than not, I was lying to myself.

Because I did know what to write. But if I have ideas, why can't I write?

I had entire stories, worlds and novel series planned out that will never see the light of day because of this. And there is one (simple) reason for this, which, up until a few years ago, I didn't even realize.

And yes, in my career as a writer, spanning a little more than a decade now, I have heard the phrase: 'You can edit a bad book, but not a blank page', thrown around more than I care to count, but nine out of ten times, it still didn't really help me write. And then, a few years ago, it hit me. As soon as the reason became clear to me, I really wondered how I never saw it before because it seemed so damn obvious.

I had been sitting around with my friends, laughing, and telling stories and stuff when one of them just finished explaining a detail of their story and ended with: 'if that makes sense?' And without even knowing it, they really opened up a world of explanations for me. For all those writer's blocks, slumps, and my inability to put a word to paper when I was practically bursting with ideas.

I always want to make sense. Always.

It doesn't matter if it is just a cute short story or a fully fleshed out novel I am trying to write, I need to make sense. And I realized this is also why the saying 'you can edit a bad book, but not a blank page' did not do it for me at times. Because my ideas weren't bad! Some of them might have been able to become a damn summer block buster if I could just put the pen to paper. But I couldn't.

Because when I tried to put it down, it made no sense.

The seemingly unbreakable wall I had been facing for years when it came to writing suddenly showed its first crack. And this realization caused me to come up with a new motivator.

'You can't make any sense if there is nothing to be made sense of.'

Though I will admit I am probably making this sound easier than it is. Ever since I picked up on this concept, I have been trying to put it to use, but sometimes you really can't avoid a writer’s block or writing slump. And that is okay.

They may seem long and unending, but they are temporary. About three years ago I hit the longest block I have had to face in my life so far and it took the wind out of me. For six long months I couldn't put a word to paper and the frustration was practically eating me alive, but it ended. Maybe because I kept returning to that frustratingly empty document that was supposed to be something of a story right now, or because of something else, but it ended.

But there is another thing I want to tell you.

Not every piece of writing needs to make sense. Sometimes it is best to let any feeling of sense and logics go and put the words to paper, regardless of how messy the end result might become.

Sometimes I think it would be a good idea if we followed the principles of a painting toddler. Does an outside audience know what the painting means without explanation? I bet you good money they don't. Do they make sense to the toddler? Good chance it doesn't. Is the end result a mess and is the toddler indistinguishable their canvas? They are and they're having the time of their little life.

My goal with writing is to be like that toddler I just described. Do the words I wrote make sense to anyone but me? Maybe, maybe not. Does it make sense to me, the writer? Good chance it will unless I wrote it on a drunken, sleep deprived stupor and I reread it later. Do I find joy in telling stories that are sometimes the most ridiculous, 'has more holes than Swiss cheese' stories ever? Hell yes.

Trying to make sense of something whilst also having fun has simply proven impossible to me. It sucks the joy of writing right out. I simply can't do both on a conscious level.

So, to me sense is just for editing, the rest is about having fun.

[starlight-starwrites]

pero tovar

character headcanons

note: what do i do when the power’s out? analyze tovar’s character, i guess. these are a bunch of headcanons i came up with about him, some pulled right from the great wall, and some i took liberties with to fit his character. they may be a bit of a mess but, hey, that’s just me. (ps if you use any of these to write something of your own, please tag me because i would love to read it)

- He has difficultly with the concept of loyalty. He’s been betrayed in the past, he doesn’t expect loyalty and doesn’t expect to give it.

- Despite how many times he’s been betrayed, he really is kind of gullible.

- He doesn’t actively hold grudges. He’s been betrayed enough times at this point it shouldn’t be a surprise. Won’t seek vengeance, but if it falls in his lap, won’t hesitate to take it either.

- May not hold grudges, but doesn’t forget either. He’ll bring it up if he feels like it.

- The man may combust if shown dedicated loyalty and care. What is this??

- A ride by the seat of his pants kind of guy. Knows he can die at any moment so what does it matter if he is betrayed? So what if the plan sounds crazy? It’ll work out or it won’t. He doesn’t mind killing his way out of it.

- He sometimes comes off as an idiot. That couldn’t be further from the truth. He’s good at languages, has picked up fighting and healing techniques from all sorts of practices during his travels, and spending time with William has taught him to think when he’s fighting. Strategy didn’t come to him naturally. He studied it, and learned to analyze the situation.

- He travels light. He doesn’t want to be weighed down by things that are unimportant.

- That being said, he is surprisingly sentimental. He’s kept the first knife he ever used to kill a man. He’ll wear a braided piece of cloth from his mother’s shroud on his wrist. He keeps the charm his lover gave him around his neck.

- Traveling light has one exception: weapons. The man will pick up any and every blade he comes across to tuck somewhere on his person. He is the person when asked to disarm will take 20 min. And still have another one hidden somewhere.

- No, seriously. Where did he hide that??

- The guy who’s always hungry. Did he just finish a six course meal? Yes. Will he have another one of those fresh rolls with cheese spread? Yes. And another slice of the smoked meat? Yes. And perhaps another bowl of the stewed potatoes? yes…how is he still eating…

- The fastest way to a man’s heart his through the fifth left intercostal space. Second fastest way? The stomach. No lie. Feed this man, don’t judge how fast he eats, and he may just fall in love with you.

- Not too long after you’ve met, he’s probably considered the best way to kill you. It’s a defense thing. If he really likes you, he will still do this. And then makes sure absolutely no one gets close enough to do anything of the sort.

- He’s no coward. But he’s isn’t bothered by being accused of it. He values his life, and if he knows he’ll lose it, he’ll run. It doesn’t feel great, but being alive is better. A live to fight another day kind of thing.

- Knows swears in probably a dozen languages. Even if he doesn’t know any other words. He thinks it’s fun.

- Sarcastic af. Half of what he says is sarcastic. Sometimes he makes it obvious. Sometimes he doesn’t. It’s led to a lot of trouble.

- He will roll his eyes at anything and everything.

- He isn’t surprised by female warriors. But…he is hella turned on. He’s impressed, and he’s respectful. But again…boy is thinking.

- He’s seen a lot of shit in his life. He thinks nothing will surprise him anymore. Stuff still does. He’s learned to adapt quickly.

- He has a surprisingly good sense of humor. Its dark and dry, but he’s been known to crack a joke. And chuckle at one too. If you can make him laugh, it’s an incredible feeling.

-He doesn’t like to be the center of attention. He will slump and hang is head and try to melt into the background.

- He does want attention though. From a select few people, people who are genuine and care. He will refuse to admit it at all costs.

- He gets jealous. He doesn’t want to be, he doesn’t like the feeling. But it happens. It’s a pain when someone is better than him and is recognized for it. He doesn’t want the attention he realizes, but he wants the recognition. If someone he cares about doesn’t give him the attention he wants, it hurts. He’ll watch and see who receives it. Silently hates them.

- He's logical thinker. Not an idealist. Sure, some things would be nice. Like someone to love, who loves him. A place to come home to. A lot of money. He knows he can get some things. Others are just a dream, and quite frankly, a waste of time (or so he tells himself).

- He’s rough. It comes with the life. He is not nice. If you expect him to be, you will be disappointed. But he’s protective, and loyal if it’s serious.

- He hates changing his mind. It feels like he made a mistake the first time. Or the second, depending on the situation. Don’t make him do it. He will be grumpy for a long time.

- He likes to see things through. He went to the effort of making a plan, and he’s going to go through with it, consequences be damned.

- Keeps his past and personal life close to his chest. Even William doesn’t know much about the man.

- He sleeps like a rock. Hates being woken up. He’s disoriented and grumpy, and probably assumes there's danger.

- If you save him, he is indebted to you. whether he likes it or not. Will either be grateful and want to return the favor or will be so cross you think he might be following you around to kill you himself.

- Doesn’t love easy. Doesn’t trust easy. But when he feels safe, that’s when he realizes. And he doesn't let go easy.

- He thinks about keeping a full beard way too much. It happens when he’s been travelling, he’s busy, just doesn’t get to it on a job. But he always shaves it off. Then kind of regrets it. At least he didn't shave it all this time.

- When he’s away, he misses ‘home’. When he’s home, he doesn’t know why he did. Perhaps he just wants to have a place to belong.

- He has more scars than he can count. He’s never felt self-conscious about them. He knows most were well earned. He learns to take pride when someone is intimidated. If his healed flesh scares someone, honestly it becomes more amusing to him than anything.

- He doesn’t want to be a dad. He’s lived a dangerous life, and still is. settling down and having kids always sounded outlandish to him. What would he do with a baby? However, should he ever find out that he is going to be a father? He’s going to be the best father he can be. He tries. He may not have a choice when he has to leave for another job, but he does everything for his family now. You can bet his son or daughter is waiting at the door for him, practicing moves with the wooden sword he made for them, climbing him as soon as he shows his face down the path. As soon as he sees his family, it’s like he can breathe easy again. After he has one kid and gets used to the idea, he…kinda…wants another. The kid should have a sibling right? He doesn’t know when to stop.

tagging: @ficsilike-reblogged @perropascal @yespolkadotkitty

[local-cry-baby]

Pokemon Trainer Lucas Headcanons

-warning;long and contains personal headcanons

art does not belong to me.if you know who the artwork belongs to tell me in the comments so i can credit them

I'm such a simp for this character

• Known as Sinnoh's Guardian and one of the three Saviors due to his actions in saving the region (and possibly the world) from Cyrus

• Too good for this world

• Very kind, polite and overall a lovable person

• His optimistic and sweet nature is pretty contagious. Most can't help but crack a small smile or feel slightly better when around him

• He has a preference for defensive Pokemon and is pretty tough-skinned himself. He rarely gets bruised or hurt

• He's very patient and easygoing. Barry can get so annoyed by it

• Having a connection with the lake legendary Mesprit he's very emotional and empathetic

• Like very empathetic. He absorbs every emotion another person is feeling like a sponge and it gets the best of him. If you're angry he's pissed, if you're crying he's tearing up beside you, if you're radiating excitement he's practically bouncing with joy

• This proves to be problematic though since it not only leaves him feeling exhausted at the end of the day but this can make him justify and even defend the worst kind of people

• It gets in the way of his better judgement and clouds his more logical side. He's currently learning to tone down

• Total foodie. Much like his manga counterpart he loves everything that deals with food. Eating, cooking, trying different cuisines

• He's probably the best cook out of the male protagonists

• Sensitive and insecure about his weight though... He's a bit on the chubby side

• Like his father he's gifted when it comes to music. He has a good sense of rhythm and tempo which makes it easier for him to compose

• His father taught him to play the piano at a very young age and recently taught himself how to play the saxophone

• His father is a jazz musician which explains his loves for the genre

• Though his father left home years ago and hasn't seen him since. He misses him sometimes

• Knows a lot about Pokemon Contest since his mother is a famous Pokemon Coordinator

• Use to participate in Junior Pokemon Contest as a kid but he suffered from stage fright so he eventually dropped it

• Overall he seems really harmless

• But looks are deceiving. So it comes as a surprise when others learn he's actually a high ranking secret agent of the International Police going by the codename 'DIA'

• Of course that bit of info is confidential so if you happen to know that then you most likely just been apprehended by him

• He works along side both Interpol Agents LOOKER and BLACK-2 when investigating on villainous organizations

• He's very valuable to the International Police due to his high intelligence and precognitive abilities

• Yes, Lucas can predict the future. An ability that was given to him by his patron legendary Dialga

• Of course it's not 100% accurate but this ability combined with his critical thinking and strategizing skills has yet to fail him

• He can also see into the past but that's much more difficult for him to do

• Despite all of this he's just too kindhearted for his own good

• He believes no one is born innately evil and believes any criminal should be given a second chance. Of course his superior and the Interpol are against this idea. Some criminals can't or deserve second chances

• He's pretty much the Good Cop in his duo with BLACK-2

[simptasia]

here are my thoughts, headcanons, about the human owners in the Cats universe. i have cats 2019 in mind with all of this, but a lot of this could easily apply to the stage musical ‘verses, if you’re so inclined. i haven’t thought about them in Great Detail but i have pictured a lot of these cats at home, so i’ve pictured their humans a little. oh side note: when i imagine humans in this universe, i operate on lady and the tramp logic where you cannae properly see them. like, from the neck down at the highest. maintaining the cats themselves as the focal characters. so yeah here are the few hcs i have about people who in my mind literally have no faces or names

munkustrap: i’ve considered the idea that his family is rich but it turns out he lives in a flat thats directly next to a junkyard. i think they’re middle class, maybe even upper middle class, because it’s not cheap to live so close to trafalgar square (that and a lot of these cats live close to each other and we see other cat’s homes that are well off). anyways, they’re a generic late 1930s family. in an idyllic way, really. i’ve based them off the human family in lady and the tramp. munkustrap being our lady. so there’s a husband, a wife and a baby. and there’s also an aunt who takes care of munku when the family is away on holiday. i gave them a baby to add even more to munku’s Paternal Instincts. they’re pleasant people and they treat munkustrap well. the lady of the household brushes him. munku has a bed in the lounge/kitchen area but sometimes they let him sleep on the foot of the bed. munku wants caviar like it’s crack so i have to assume he’s tasted it at least once. this would imply very indulgent owners. or they might have dropped some at a party, who knows. they’re not strict with munku (he can go where he wants to, get given Human Food, sleep on Human Beds) but this never led to him being spoilt because he respects his family a lot and doesn’t take advantage of their kindness (eg. many cats are known to push things off tables. munkustrap would never) oh also the baby has pulled on munku’s tail once but he doesn’t hold it against her

mr. mistoffelees: we can actually glean some things about his family from his song and the behind the scenes. first of all, laurie davidson says misto is owned by a magician, who uses misto as a helper during magic tricks. that is to say, he pulls misto out of his hat. this is delightful and i hold to this concept too. from his song we know at least two things: one lyric says “the family” and thats plural so there’s more than just a magician, who i imagine is a guy, by the way. so he gets a wife. i don’t see them having kids. the other thing we know from his song is that misto sleeps by the fire..... though sometimes he is on the roof, making a ruckus, apparently. misto’s owners are sometimes annoyed but overall fond of their kitties antics. since misto emulates his owner’s magic-ness, it stands to reason that this guy is a guy worthy of being emulated. therefore: decent and nice. concept: misto sees his owner doing magic tricks and being lovey dovey with his wife and is basically like “god i wish that was me”. i also imagine they give misto a decent amount of toys, like a jingly mouse, a ball of yarn, etc. this was partially an attempt to get misto to stop playing with forks and the man of the house’s magician doodads... it didn’t wooork~ yes, im still thinking of 2019 misto, just because he’s anxious, doesn’t mean he can’t be a silly little scamp too. he’s gotta practice his magic!

rum tum tugger: his owner is a sweet lady who adores her kitty so very much and loads him with praise. basically she’s largely responsible for tugger’s,,, High Self Esteem. she talks to him in baby talk a lot. she���s a cat enthusiast and has even entered tugger in some pet shows. she’s good natured enough but her house smells funny. she spoils tugger and will allow him to behave however way he pleases. according to tugger’s song, she sews. he jumps on her lap, throwing her off her task, and she sighs fondly and says “oh, what am i going to do with you?”. nothing. because she wuvs her pwecious widdle kitty. basically, tugger owns her

victoria: she was given to a little girl as a christmas present and what we see at the start of the movie is her being chucked away because the girl and the parents got bored of her once she reached maturity. so basically they’re fickle bastards who weren’t ready for cat ownership

mungojerrie & rumpleteazer: ohhhh boy, so i said tugger was spoilt but these two. these two! their owners are rich. the details of this family are unclear in my head but at the very least theres a middle aged couple who hate the way these cats behave but choose to tolerate it, and a younger stupid woman who ignores their shenanigans and says “they don’t know what they’re doing” (said whilst they grin mischievously). mungo and rumple’s behaviour is put up with because they’re show cats who are worth a lot of money. once in a while they’ll do a show and then the rest of the time these two are Chaos. as i said, their family is the one i’m least clear about, like how many people live here, how everybody is related, but im picturing a somewhat large rich family (like 3 generations in one house and theres a few bratty kids about) and they’re not very nice people. they’re snobby and unkind. any goodness the chaos twins have was given to them by the other jellicle cats, not their owners. oh this household also employs several maids, who have to put up with so much shit, lord

skimbleshanks: skimble has no one Owner in a traditional sense, he is beloved by the people who work at the local railway station. the drivers, the guards, the station master, the station master’s daughters who are 6 and 8. skimble does and doesn’t belong to all of these people. the train people adore skimble and literally will not start the train without him, which is canon. i picture the driver as being really burly, to juxtapose how cooey he gets over this orange kitty. they let him roam the train as he pleases, and honk the train horn, drink scotch and they always give him Human Food. and in return skimble is infallibly loyal and has amazing work ethic. i mean, considering he’s a cat... anyways everybody loves skimbleshanks

and for the sake of the story working, these owners are either ignorant that their cats are getting out or letting them free roam. twas a different time

[hamiltalian-creates]

Oo!! I wish you would write a fic where... (ask thingy) Logan is totally oblivious to Remus’s attempts to score a boyfriend. He thinks that remus is just being impulsive and saying random sexual stuff at him when really Remus is trying to gain the other’s attention! Also hi!!

Hi, CJ! Thanks for the idea, I’m glad we’re on the same Intrulogical brainwave lol

Words: 3,424

Warnings: Remus being Remus

Remus was weird. All of the sides and Thomas himself knew it and acknowledged it and Remus wore the word like a bad Christmas sweater, but, lately, he’d been acting weirder than Logan would’ve expected from him. For the latest example, Logan was just trying to go about his day and get some reading done in the living room when Remus sat beside him and pulled him into his lap and began speaking. 

“So, Logan, how does this sound: You and me, my side of the imagination, 8 o’clock tonight, anything you want.” 

Logan hummed in thought as he skimmed the page for where he’d lost the his place once Remus had jostled him. “I’m not in the mood for a hookup, but thank you for the offer.” 

Remus pouted, but he wasn’t one to give up that quickly. “Alright, no sex. How about now?” 

“I’m busy at the moment. I’d rather finish this book uninterrupted.”

Remus huffed and moved to get up, stopping as Logan grabbed his shoulder. 

“At least move me more carefully, I am reading.” 

Were it any other side, Remus would’ve just stood up and let him fall to the floor with a satisfying thump and maybe even a nice snap or crack, but this was Logan. Remus wanted to date him and Logan had to like him for that to happen. So, he carefully lifted Logan out of his lap and stood up before placing him back onto the couch, patting his head as he set him down. 

Logan nodded. “Thank you.” 

But that wasn’t the last of Remus’s exceptionally weird moments with Logan. 

Just the next morning, as Logan was making himself a healthy, balanced breakfast of biscuits and jam, hold the biscuits, Remus strolled in and smacked Logan’s behind, an action that Logan was pretty used to by then. 

“How about some hang time in the library after breakfast?” Remus asked. “You might have to wait a while for me though, I’m getting hungry from staring at an absolute snack.” 

Logan looked down at his jar of jam and then back up at Remus before handing it to him. “It is quite a delicious treat. And I’ll have to pass on the library, ‘hanging’ doesn’t sound very fun.” 

Okay, that one was Remus’s fault, bad choice of words. “I mean, like, hanging out,” he clarified, dipping two fingers into the jar of jam and scooping some out before eating it. 

“Hanging anywhere sounds uncomfortable. Keep the jar, I have plenty more.” Logan went over to a locked cabinet and pulled the key out from his pocket, unlocking and opening the door to reveal that the entire cabinet had been filled with jars of various Crofters jams. 

“That’s quite the collection there.” 

Logan shrugged and selected a jar before closing and locking the cabinet again. “I keep the bare minimum, I don’t want to take up too much kitchen space.” 

Remus nodded as he watched Logan leave. That nerd really was obsessed with Crofters jams... Maybe he could use that to his advantage. Remus began grinning as he had a brilliant idea. 

Logan went a surprisingly short time before having another run in with Remus and his stranger than usual activities, though this one almost made him laugh. Of course, laughing would’ve been a sign that Logan actually felt that Remus’s stunt was funny and, as someone who didn’t feel, that couldn’t happen. 

As Logan came out for his afternoon jar of Crofters, Remus was waiting in the kitchen, facing the counters until he heard Logan walk in. 

“Hello, Nerdilocks,” Remus greeted as he turned around, showing Logan the newest addition to his usual outfit. 

Logan wouldn’t have looked down at his crotch to see it were it not for the fact that it was hard to ignore the large, white writing on his black pants that read “Open here for Crofters” and the large white arrow pointing right at his, thankfully hidden, penis. He took a deep breath as he read it, trying not to let himself show even a hint of the entertainment he felt seeing that. 

Remus grinned proudly as he noticed Logan’s lips twitch just the tiniest amount and looked down at his outfit’s new addition before looking back up at Logan. “What do you think?” 

“I think that somebody else might find that hilarious and I appreciate your attempt at making me laugh.” 

Remus bounced on his toes and inwardly cheered. “Are you taking the offer? I know you’re here for your afternoon Crofters.” 

Logan shook his head and went over to his hoarding cabinet. “I’m here for a jar of the brand of jam called Crofters, I’m not currently interested in your penis, which, I assume, you have nicknamed ‘Crofters’.” 

“Okay, but what if I told you that my dick is literally covered in Crofters jam right now and you have the opportunity to taste it and guess the flavor yourself?” 

Logan stared at him for a few seconds, wondering if he was serious before realizing that he absolutely was. “Then I’d say that I really admire your persistence and your dedication to this series of practical jokes you’re playing on me. And... I honestly wonder what that feels like.” Logan had absolutely no intention of doing such a thing, but to say he wasn’t curious would’ve been a lie and he wasn’t Janus. 

Remus swooned, Logan’s sense of curiosity being the main thing that drove his attraction to the nerd. “It’s sticky and gross, just like we could be if you say yes.” 

“As much as I love Crofters, I wouldn’t particularly enjoyed being covered in it. But I appreciate the offer, I suppose that would sound like an appealing activity to you, so I’ll take that as a good thing.” He grabbed two jars from his cabinet, giving one to Remus before grabbing a spoon and leaving with his own jar. 

Remus waited until he left before groaning in frustration and going to take a shower. As much as he loved the warm, wet, sticky feeling that he was getting from the jelly that was covering his dick, it reminded him all too much of how he felt on the nights when he’d wake up after dreaming about Logan. 

While he was in the shower, he decided to take advantage of the thought and daydream about those situations with Logan, hoping the post nut clarity would help lead him in the right path here. 

And it did! 

Remus snapped his eyes open and made quick work of scrubbing himself clean before throwing on a quick outfit and dashing over to Janus’s room. He was a nerd, just like Logan, and he was smart! He’d know what to do! 

Remus stormed through his door and jumped onto the bed, where he had been reading peacefully. “Janus! I need your advice!” 

“And I need a day to go by where I can actually relax,” Janus grumbled as he marked his place in his book and put it down. He was annoyed by Remus’s interruption, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to help him. 

“I need help asking Logan out.” 

Ah, yes, Remus’s very obvious crush on Logan. For such a smart guy, Logan was so stupid when it came to realizing that Remus had a huge crush on him. Then again, most people didn’t express their affection by saying that they’d want to rip your head off and place it on their nightstand. Janus supposed that it was just years of living with Remus that made it feel obvious that that was Remus’s way of saying that he wanted to wake up to Logan’s face everyday. “Maybe try speaking a bit more his language.” 

“I already tried slathering my dick in Crofters and he didn’t even want to taste and guess the flavor!” 

Janus wished he wasn’t surprised by that, but Logan did have a pretty unhealthy obsession with the stuff. “That’s not what I meant. I meant try being straightforward. Tell him in very plain words that you want to go on a date with him or fuck him or whatever it is that you do.” 

Remus paused for a second and sat up, a dumbstruck look on his face. After a few more seconds, he smacked his forehead, looking absolutely enlightened. “Why didn’t I think of that?!” 

Janus shrugged. “You and Logan have a lot in common and one of those things is that you’re both incredibly smart and, at the same time, incredibly stupid.” 

Remus nodded for a second before looking at his friend with a grin. “You think we have things in common?” 

“Get out of my room and go get a boyfriend.” 

“Thanks, Jay!” Remus hopped up and ran out of the room, going to work on his latest plot: properly asking Logan out. 

It took him a few days to come up with a plan and, as he did, Logan grew confused. Remus had been so friendly with him, talking to him everyday and constantly touching him, that seeing Remus just kind of vanish was almost worrying, except he didn’t worry. Remus was a grown man and a figment of the imagination, it wasn’t like he could’ve gotten hurt. The more likely answer was that he’d gotten sick of Logan’s lack of response to his actions and moved on to the next side. 

Now, as the logical side, he may have put up a show of not being able to feel, but, unfortunately, Thomas didn’t allow him such a luxury and he was stuck with the burden that was human emotion, figment of the imagination or otherwise. And, currently, his emotions surrounding the idea of Remus going to find another side to mess with just because he wasn’t particularly responsive were anything but positive. There was sadness, a hint of anger, and a fair amount of jealousy that he especially wouldn’t want anybody to know about. After all, Logan already got picked on for the things he liked when they were philosophy, psychology, and astronomy. Who knew how the rest of the sides would react when one of the things he liked was Remus. 

Fortunately for them and unfortunately for him, it seemed pretty clear that Remus had no interest in him, at least not in that fashion. Remus was just impulsive and there was a very high probability that he was sexual and touchy with everyone, so it wasn’t like he treated Logan any differently from his rest. And this was Remus he was thinking about here, Remus of all sides, would’ve made it the most obvious if he had a crush on him, even more obvious than Roman, as insanely open and honest as Remus was. Not to mention, Remus probably wouldn’t have stopped talking to Logan if he actually liked him. 

So, all that was left to do was for Logan to start on the process of forgetting about his stupid crush. It wouldn’t have worked out, anyways. Remus got bored of him as a friend after a few weeks, there was no doubt in Logan’s mind that he would’ve gotten bored of him as a partner or boyfriend even faster. 

Fortunately, with all of the practice he’d had, it wasn’t hard for Logan to hide how hurt he was by Remus’s absence. He went about his day as if nothing had changed whatsoever and attempted to enjoy a peaceful day, something he wasn't particularly used to anymore. 

Thankfully, it seemed like he wasn’t going to have to put up with that kind of order for very long. 

A few days into getting used to Remus’s absence, Logan was grabbing a jar of Crofters for his afternoon snack, fighting the urge to grab a second for a side who wasn’t even there, when he was interrupted by said side’s voice. 

“Logan!” Remus called out as he stepped into the kitchen, hiding his hands behind his back. “I’m glad to see you here, I have to talk to you.” 

Logan stood up and looked back at him, his jelly collection briefly forgotten. “Remus. I haven’t really heard from you in a few days...” 

Aww, he noticed. Remus beamed and nodded. “Yeah, sorry about that, but I’ve been trying to figure out how to talk to you!” 

Here it was. Remus was going to say he didn’t want to hang out with him anymore. “What is it?” Logan asked warily. 

Remus stepped forward and shoved a bouquet of a variety of flowers in Logan’s face. “Here! I didn’t know what kind you liked, so I brought you some of everything.” 

Logan blinked a few times, surprised, before hesitantly taking the flowers. 

“Don’t be so scared, there’s nothing dangerous there. Except for the thorny roses, but nothing too crazy,” he said with a shrug, smiling as Logan started analyzing the flowers. 

“Thank you... These are really nice. Um... May I ask what they’re for? It’s not a holiday or my birthday or anything.” 

Remus put his hands over Logan’s, glad that he’d arranged the flowers so that the few roses were in the middle, unable to stab Logan’s hands. He was too excited to not grip Logan’s hands as tight as he could. “I had a special question to ask you! Would you like to go out with me?” 

“Go out?...” Logan asked slowly, putting the pieces together as he looked between his and Remus’s hands and the flowers enclosed in them and the bright blush on Remus’s face as he beamed. “You mean... Like on a romantic outing? Forgive me if I’m wrong, that’s just the context that is usually meant by the phrase ‘going out,’ at least to my knowledge. Unless you’re asking me to go out with you as in die in a fiery explosion and these are a sample of the flowers that you’ll leave to be left in my grave?” It was an unconventional use of the phrase in comparison, but it was more likely in this scenario, considering that it was Remus he was talking to. 

Remus cackled and shook his head. “No, Logan, I would like to go on a romantic outing with you. If you are interested, I would like to partake in a romantic relationship with you and I’ve been trying to ask for a while now. It’s kind of my fault for forgetting how crazy literal, but oh my god, you’re really stupid literal.” 

Logan laughed awkwardly and nodded. “Yeah.. That’s kind of your fault, you’re so straightforward that I can’t help but to take everything you say literally... And you’re so straightforward that I almost think you’re serious right now.” 

“Uh, I am always very serious,” Remus responded, feigning offense before grinning again. “I am serious, I want to date you! You’re smart and cool and you’re curious enough to not be afraid of everything I say and I don’t like that you’re helping Thomas not be scared of me, but I love that you’re helping him not be scared of me. I really, really want to be your boyfriend and I can’t believe I didn’t think of just outright asking you like this any sooner.” 

Logan liked to think he was the most composed side, but right now, he was an absolute disaster of a gay. His brain was figuratively short circuiting and he couldn’t find very many words to say, much less figure out how to put them together in coherent sentences. “You think I’m cool?...” 

“Of course I do!” Remus was getting excited again, bouncing on his toes and fighting every urge to grab Logan’s stupid face and kiss him all over. “You’re so cool! You’re not scared of the weird things I say and you’re not afraid to call out the others when they’re in the wrong and I really really like hanging out with you. You’re totally cool and it’s taking every bit of restraint for me not to kiss you silly right now.” 

If Logan were a more impulsive and a less composed side, he would’ve gladly invited Remus to do just that. Instead, he freed one of his hands and loosened his tie ever so slightly - he wasn’t sure when it had gotten so hard to breathe, but he was pretty sure being this flustered didn’t help, not that he’d admit it - and cleared his throat, hoping that his own brain would start working with him again. “That sounds like a very lovely proposition.” 

Just as Logan had spent a while misinterpreting Remus’s romantic advances, Remus misinterpreted Logan’s acceptance as consent for what he wanted to do and grabbed his face, pulling him in for a kiss. Just like everything else that Remus did, it was passionate and chaotic, a mess of mashing lips and clicking teeth - Remus was saving using his tongue for later. 

Logan wasn’t one for displays of romantic affection, especially not ones that were so public, but Remus’s passionate kiss was too hard not to get into and he found himself lost in the kiss before he could control himself, putting his previously freed hand over one of Remus’s and keeping the other wrapped around the bouquet that he was holding. 

Unfortunately, just as they had a tendency to do every single time Logan showed even a sliver of vulnerability, one of the sides decided to show up right at that moment. 

“Hey, Logan, would you mind if I grabbed a- Aaaahhhh!” Roman screamed as he walked in and saw his brother making out with their nerd. 

Logan was too used to ignoring Roman’s every word and too into his current activities to pull away at the sound of the scream, but Remus was pretty sure that, in a more clear state of mind, Logan wouldn’t have wanted Roman to just watch them make out, especially not when it was their first makeout session, so he took every bit of his will power and pulled away from the kiss, turning back to glare at his brother. 

“Fantastic timing, dipshit.” 

Roman made a series of offended noises and gestured vaguely at the two of them, unsure of where exactly he went wrong in this scenario. “You’re making out with Logan in the middle of the kitchen where anyone can see! It’s not my fault that I happened to walk into our shared kitchen!” 

Logan began pulling himself out of his daze, standing up straight and clearing his throat. “Roman, you’re not usually one to just walk into a room without loudly announcing yourself first.”

“You’re not usually one to just make out with anyone in the kitchen, especially not my brother!” Roman leaned against the wall and dramatically gripped his stomach. “Oh my god, I think I’m going to be sick... I have to leave!” 

And just as fast as he’d arrived, Roman ran out of the kitchen, leaving the other two sides behind. 

Remus sighed and turned to Logan, his usual smile making its way back onto his face. “So, we’re boyfriends now?” 

Logan nodded and adjusted his glasses. ”Yes, we’re boyfriends now.” He decided against adding on the fact that their relationship was what he’d been agreeing to before, not the kissing, not wanting to let Remus think for even a second that he didn’t enjoy that amazing kiss. “And perhaps we could do more kissing later, when there aren’t any sides around to bother us?” 

Remus’s eyes lit up. “Wait, will that include sex? I’ve been asking for a date, but I’ve also been asking for a lot of that.” 

Yeah, Logan had noticed that much, he just preferred to be in an established relationship before going to that level. ... Wait, was asking for sex also one of Remus’s ways for asking for a relationship? That didn’t matter now, they were dating and there was no confusion about that. “Maybe after you take me on a few dates, yes.” 

Remus cheered to himself and grabbed Logan’s shoulders, leaning in and kissing his forehead before letting him go. “Meet me in my side of the imagination at 8 o’clock tonight, dress according to whatever kind of activity you want to do, you’re choosing our first date.” 

Logan simply nodded and watched as Remus left him alone in the kitchen, staring down at his flowers once he was out of sight. He and Remus were dating now... Sure, they could’ve been in a relationship sooner, had Logan been better at understanding the meanings behind his words, but that didn’t matter. They were dating now. And, for once, Logan couldn’t think about anything else. 

[inactiive-shit]

I Don’t Have A Name For It

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Masterlist

This is based off the song I Don’t Have A Name For It by Steam Powered Giraffe. I would definitely recommend listening to it. I love that song and have been meaning to write something for it forever, and then, lo and behold, Valentine’s Day and all the sweet mushiness I could ask for.

Warnings: None

Pairing: Romantic Logicality

Words: 1,728

Summary: Logan does not know what to call the feelings that Patton makes him experience.Luckily, it's an easily-solved problem.

Happy Valentine’s Day everybody! I wrote Logicality fluff!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Virgil, I have a serious query for you. How do you confess that you...experience emotions for someone?” Logan asked. His roommate spun slowly in his chair to face Logan and raised his eyebrows at the flush coating Logan’s cheeks.

“Are you finally ready to admit that to Patton?”

“But I do not know how,” Logan repeated, and he flopped full body onto Virgil’s bed with a groan.

“Wow. The situation must be dire,” Virgil said dryly. “Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?”

“I do not have adequate language to describe my feelings for Patton to myself, let alone to the object of such affections. I always seem to be tongue tied when he is around, and I cannot think clearly enough to even begin to tell him how I feel.”

“You can practice...on...me?” Virgil said quietly. Logan lifted his face off the bed to glare, and Virgil was sending a strange look toward the bathroom door.

“Yes, because you are just like Patton. Perfect plan, Virgil.” Virgil quickly returned his gaze to Logan, though he seemed unamused at Logan’s own problem, which was rather unusual. Logan dropped his face back into the comforter.

“Screw off,” he said, and Logan could imagine that Virgil was probably flipping him off. Then Virgil sighed and the sound of typing accompanied his next sentence. “I don’t know what you see in him, anyway.”

“What!” Logan yelped, shooting off the bed like he had been lit aflame.

“I mean, he’s an okay baker, I guess.” Virgil shrugged but did not look away from his computer screen. “And he’s nice enough. But honestly, I just don’t get it.”

“He-he-I-” Logan took a breath, trying to steady his thoughts enough that he could thoroughly destroy every opinion Virgil held on this particular subject. “He is amazing. He is wonderfully kind, and sometimes when he is standing across the room from me somewhere he knows I don’t want to be, he’ll wink at me. I nearly fall to the floor every time, and then he’ll smile at me like he knows, and I do not even have the words to articulate how gorgeous he looks. His whole face lights up like a spiral galaxy, and though I know it does not make sense, not every star in the known or unknown universe could come together and look more radiant than Patton does when he smiles like that. I am always...starstruck.

“When he laughs, it is the most joyful sound I have ever heard. He laughs like every little thing that happens to him is worth it, and like he is simply so ecstatic to be alive that he cannot help but love every bit of it. And he cries whenever he sees babies, be they animal or human. Like they are simply too cute for him to handle, but even with puffy eyes and a stuffy nose he is still the most resplendent thing I have ever laid eyes on.

“And when he takes my hand to lead me,” Logan added, eyes closing slightly, “I would follow him without having to see where we are going. Our hands fit perfectly together as though we were made for each other, and I trust him no matter what he is doing. I could not doubt anything that Patton did.

“I don’t have a name for the way Patton makes me feel. It something else entirely, and I am made speechless every time I begin to think about it all. About him.” Logan sighed softly, lost in his own thoughts.

“I don’t know,” Virgil said dismissively. Logan’s eyes snapped open like he’d been electrocuted. “Doesn’t really seem all that special to me.”

“But-but it is!” Logan jumped up and began to pace the room, hands moving wildly through the air. “He makes me feel so special. When he looks at me, and asks me for help in performing some task that he finds difficult or even that he simply did not want to do alone, I am always astonished. He comes to me when he wants company, and he trusts me to help him. He can find fun in any job, regardless of the monotony, and he is so beautiful when he focuses. He’ll stick his tongue out just slightly enough to be seen, and he doesn’t even know he does it. And he always works so hard on whatever he has given his attention to; it does not matter to him how important the task is, only that it is done well and with love.

“And I can talk to him about anything in a way that I have never been able to before. I marvel at all the the things he says, how wise he can be when most of the time he acts so silly. He loves talking about the universe as much as I do, and he can listen to me explain it for hours without tiring of it. He loves debating if we have an ultimate goal, a reason for being, and he does not think any opinion on it is not worth hearing.

“And he is still so wonderful and fun-loving other times. Sometimes he will turn on music that he enjoys and dance around the room singing along, and then he’ll wrap his fingers around my wrist and pull me up with him. I am not a good singer, but when Patton urges me to sing my heart out with him I find it impossible to refrain. His voice is so sweet and I am always left in awe of how every song can fall from his lips like he is giving each story they tell life without a thought.”

Logan stilled, hands lowering slowly. “I have been trying to find a reason for this strange feeling I get whenever I am in Patton’s presence. I have looked and looked for something that could explain the unique way he makes my heart race and my face blush so that it is not an unpleasant experience. I cannot find one. I do not think there’s a name for it. The whys and hows of my feelings for Patton are a mystery, but I do not need a name for them when they are so encompassing that I can barely think about anything else.”

Logan turned to face Virgil, but froze when he saw the smug smirk curling his lips. “You egged me on so that I would rant about him again. Damnit.” Logan shook his head and rubbed his temples.

“Always works,” Virgil said quietly. Then, louder, “Logan, buddy, I have to tell you something. But first, that was great. If you said that exact thing to Patton, I’m sure he would love it.”

“No,” Logan said vehemently. “I will stutter and lose my train of thought because his eyes are so distracting and I will never get it out. I will look like a fool, Virgil.”

“Or not,” Virgil said. “I’m just saying, I don’t think it would be half as embarrassing as you think. I hope not, anyway.”

“I would not make any plans on a hope,” Logan muttered.

“Too late for that. And it’s been working so far.” Before Logan could ask what that was supposed to mean, Virgil spun his chair around again. “Do you wanna come out of the bathroom or are you planning on spending the night in there?”

The blood drained from Logan’s face when the door swung open and an open-mouthed Patton shyly stepped out.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” Virgil said, getting out his chair and cracking his back. “Don’t have sex on my bed.” He stepped out of the room and shut the door behind him before Logan could throttle him or beg him for help, leaving Logan alone in a room with Patton. Patton, who was still staring at him like he was an exhibit at the zoo.

“I am so sorry,” Logan immediately said. “You weren’t supposed to hear any of that.”

“No, no, it’s alright,” Patton rushed to say, finally regaining animation. “It’s amazing. You have no idea how happy I am.”

“What?”

“You’re pulling all my heartstrings, Lolo.” He crossed the room carefully and took Logan’s hand, pulling him to sit on Virgil’s bed. He didn’t let go. “My heart has been singing for you since the beginning, and I’ll say it proudly. This feeling,” he laid a gentle hand over Logan’s heart, “is staying. You set my heart on fire, Logan, and it’s not a fire that any kind of water is going to douse.”

“What about baking soda?” he said, choked.

“Dad joke.” Patton booped his nose with his free hand. Logan could not even roll his eyes, not with Patton looking at him like that. “I think you are the most stunning person I have ever met. You dance with me, and you can keep me balanced and in the moment always. You are always willing to come with me or invite me along with you when you have a crazy science scheme you want to test out. You’re my partner in crime. The texture of your hair is so soothing when I touch it and it curls around my fingers, and,” Patton paused, tears in his eyes, and collected himself. “And it’s the look in your eyes when you finally connect all the pieces of a mystery that’s been bugging you. You practically glow when you’ve figured something out, whether it’s for you or someone you love.”

Patton flattened his hand over Logan’s heart and Logan could feel the steady thumping reverberate. “Our hearts beat in sync, in the same pattern, in the same rhythm over and over and over again. One and the same.” Patton smiled up at Logan, a tear slipping out.

“I don’t have a name for it either, Lo.” Patton leaned in a little. “But it’s kind of like being in love.”

“Oh,” Logan breathed.

“Yeah,” Patton said, and he laughed and it was enough to throw Logan over the edge. He leaned forward and caught Patton’s lips in a searing kiss that felt just the way Patton’s heart does, like the fire was spreading all over them both and every last one of Logan’s nerves and synapses was been branded with Patton.

It’s not a branding that Logan has any issue with.

[morepopcornplease]

Can you please talk about the Catholic understanding of the "single" vocation? I'm ace and not drawn to religious life so I thought that's where I was heading, but lately I've been hearing it's not a "real" vocation, just a "transition" state

Not only would I argue that the single vocation exists, I’d argue it’s sorely needed today.

Actually you know what? I would argue there’s more evidence of the single lay vocation than a marital vocation within Church tradition, especially in the early Church days.

What do I mean by that?

*cracks knuckles* PREPARE YOURSELF.

(also sorry this wasn’t responded to earlier. people who ask me side b  or faith questions should know that it takes me literal weeks to respond)

So, back in the founding days of the Church, there was ONE vocation: Priesthood. Not religious orders. Certainly not matrimony. Just: priesthood. See, the word vocation stems from the Latin “vocare” / “to call,” specifically referring to how Jesus “called” the apostles. Either men answered God’s call to the priesthood, or they did not.

Now, for marriage— in his first letter to the Corinthians, St Paul writes this:

“If you marry, however, you do not sin, nor does an unmarried woman sin if she marries; but such people will experience affliction in their earthly life, and I would like to spare you that. I tell you, brothers, the time is running out. From now on, let those having wives act as not having them…”

St Paul basically says here: “I mean, I ~guess~ getting married isn’t sinning, so it’s fine. It’s fine! It’s Fine.”

And really, Paul, what kind of half-assed encouragement to your married folk is this?!

He basically says things like: “listen up you horny kiddos, if you’re too damn horny, then go ahead! Get married! (See if I care!!) But if you’re like me *cough cough* then you WON’T!!”

Incidentally, I will absolutely be using this as the basis for my Best Woman speech at my sister’s wedding…

I think Paul goes overboard here, but in a sense he had to. In a time where followers of Christ were convincing fellow Jews that Jesus was indeed the promised Messiah, they had an important differentiation (and I don’t mean just circumcision).

Rather, the early Christians was pushing to make disciples of all nations, not through birth (again, the Messiah had already come! The sign given to Ahaz [Isaiah 7:10-16] has already been fulfilled!!) but through baptism of the spirit. We are to become a new kind of community, according to Jesus.

Going back to the Gospels: “Jesus replied, ‘Who is my mother, and who are my brothers?’ And pointing to his disciples, he said, ‘Here are my mother and my brothers! For whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother.’” (Matt 12:48-50, Luke 8:21)

Again, we get a sense that Jesus is establishing a new type of community to be His Church, a new definition of family. The kind of bond formed not by the water of the womb, but the blood of the new covenant. I mean, there’s a reason almost all of the epistles of the New Testament begin and end with addressing the faithful as “Brothers and Sisters,” a practice the Catholic priests keep today in their homilies.

Ok, so there’s a new kind of family. That doesn’t establish a “single vocation” any more than it disassembles a “married vocation.”

Well, let’s pull up the Early Patricians, shall we?

Here’s St Jerome on the subject in 393 AD in his treatise Against Jovinianus: “but while we honor marriage we prefer virginity which is the offspring of marriage. Will silver cease to be silver, if gold is more precious than silver?”

And St Jerome again, when facing controversy: “Someone may say: ‘And do you dare disparage marriage, which is blessed by the Lord?’ It is not disparaging marriage when virginity is preferred to it. No one compares evil with good. Let married women glory too, since they come second to virgins.”

St Augustine, also countering Jovinianus: "Marriage and fornication are not two evils, whereof the second is worse: but marriage and continence are two goods, whereof the second is better.”

In fact, marriage was not considered a sacrament until 1184, at the Council of Verona. That’s less than half a Church History ago!!

Notice, too, how these saints are not saying “religious life.” They are not saying “priesthood.” There is no mention of deaconship or stewardship that would imply religious orders and the vows accompanying them. And St Augustine’s use of the word “continence” dissolves the idea that this is just a fetishization of women’s virginity, inapplicable to men.

They are talking about those who choose continence. And while that includes religious orders, it was not limited to priests, deacons, etc. In fact, the obligation of clerical celibacy wasn’t made canon until The Second Lateral Council in 1139; where marriages with religious men had previously been regarded as “illicit but still valid,” now marriages with religious men was now, canonically, completely invalid.

Logically then, they must be talking about the vocation to single, celibate life.

In the Catholic Church, we have untold numbers of early Church saints who are noted as “virgin martyrs.” Think about that. What is that actually saying? That just by virtue of not getting married, out of devotion to Christ, you deserve to be recognized as a saint? No sacrament of holy orders required?

Actually, yes. Saying NO to a husband for Christ is enough for sanctification.

And I don’t think we realize how outstanding that is when we talk about the Single Vocation.

To wrap this up, I would like to posit my own theory about how virginity and marriage actually complement one another (and to some extent, religious orders as well)

In those days (and tbh throughout history) marriage was a financial decision. Money exchanged hands. The bride was “bought.”

And only 300 years before Jesus arrived, Aristotle argued that the best kind of love was between friends. Since marriage was a love of “utility” and “pleasure,” it could not possibly reach the love of friends; it was better to be unmarried. 

(it’s also good to remember that Aristotle lived in the hellenistic culture, featuring plenty of pedophilia and ephebophilia. Aka, rape. So it’s good to remember that when he says “remain unmarried” he doesn’t really mean “stay celibate.” Several yikes.)

This is the Gentile worldview Jesus enters. And He establishes marriage as a good—and how could marriage be anything else, when He refers to Himself as a Bridegroom, and His bride the Church? “You are not your own; you were bought with a price.” 1Cor 6:19-20.

But then He says this: "Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” (John 15:13)

Jesus didn’t elevate the good of friendship up to the status of marriage.

He elevated the relationship between husband and wife to the status of friendship.

Nowadays, while there is no money exchanging hands during a ceremony (well, except for the reception and honeymoon), I’d argue a new type of currency is being exchanged, within the Christian churches themselves.

It is the currency of sanctified sex. Pleasure with the stamp of God’s Approval. The ability to have sex without feeling guilty about it, or have your priest make you feel guilty about it, or having your conscience beat yourself silly about it.

Once again, spouses fall prey to treating each other as objects to satisfy their sexual desires, as well as every other desire.

And single vocations are the answer to that.

Marriage cannot be a good if it is reduced to “sanctified sex.” It is degrading to the sacrament and to the people within that union.

Religious Orders cannot be good if celibacy is treated as the ultimate punishment—that attitude leads to pitiful sexual entitlement by the members of those same religious orders.

It’s only if you have a true, Church-defended, celebrated, joyful, viable Vocation of Singleness that the fruit of the other two’s vocations—their real fruit of the gift of the sacraments and of new life—come into view, crystal clear and glorious.

And that is why the Single Vocation is not only a real vocation—it’s sorely needed today.

[araluen-arrows]

crowley’s apprentice

**some creds to the RA discord for helping snowball this idea along

it makes no sense that crowley, as one of the bright young rangers taught by pritchard (one of the most respected figures in the corps) to not have an apprentice. like, yes, he was busy with being commandant and rebuilding, but it’s also only logical for the commandant to have an apprentice skilled at administrating and ready to take over for them if anything were to happen.

so, using the fandom’s Override Canon at Any Oppurtunity function, we have collectively decided to give Crowley an apprentice:

Gideon joins the Corps after the Battle of Hackham Heath. He participated in the battle as a squire, and he saw what difference a Ranger made in turning the tide of the battle. He decides to apply to the newly-reforming Corps after Araluen was secured once again.

At sixteen, already a renowned swordsman, he has spent four years under MacNeil, two in the Battleschool of Caraway, and he has been riding and shooting since he could walk. 

As a plus, he is the oldest son of Sir David, the King’s cavalry commander. He is charismatic, brilliant, inquisitive, thorough, and talented, the person his brother yearns to be, the pride of his father’s life and the joy of Crowley’s. 

Two years later, Gilan is thrown into a creek by the Ranger Halt and begins his apprenticeship in earnest as well. And for a while, everything is happy. Halt and crowley are closer than brothers, and now their apprentices are siblings as well. Gideon was one of the only warriors who could defeat Gilan at the sword. At Gil’s first Gathering, Gideon sees him and slings him over his shoulders despite the protests, carrying him the rest of the way to the Gathering Ground. 

He is overconfident to the point of recklessness as his only fault. but Crowley smiles fondly and lets it pass. He remembers when he was the same during his apprenticeship: bright with the optimism of youth, swaggering and sure of himself. He will temper with age, he tells Halt. Let the boy be a child. 

Gideon would never grow out of boyhood. 

<>~<>~<>

There is a lot of administrative work these days for Crowley to handle. There are rumors to investigate, treaties to rewrite, rangers to commission. But, as always, there are also enemies of Araluen to track and kill, bandits to clear from the roads, and smugglers to flush from their dens. One man, even if that man is a Ranger Commandant, can’t keep track of it all.

So Gid volunteers to. He takes up residence in the cabin near Castle Araluen, spending time there in two-week chunks. He represents Crowley in his dealings with criminals, and through him, the King. 

It isn’t like the power gets to his head or anything. but when you are a teenager (a kid, really), there is always a certain amount of arrogance involved. It is always you against the world, and there is no chance you will not emerge the victor. The world is painted gold with the promise of a bright future, and it is your oyster. 

but there is no time to be a child in the aftermath of war.

Morgarath learns of this development through his network of spies. He has spent four years now nursing his wounds, letting his bitter hatred for the ranger corps fester. and before Halt is famous and immortalized in the songs of bards, it is Crowley, the young Commandant, that is the face of the Corps. 

But Crowley is difficult to get to. He’s one of the best and brightest Rangers, and he’s based within Castle Araluen itself, the impenetrable fortress that Morgarath didn’t dare take even when he was strong. Halt is just as difficult to attack, because he’s located in Redmont, a large and populous fief. So who does he target?

Reports leak into Castle Araluen about bears, large, shambling, killing livestock and farmers in the countryside. It seems like a routine enough job: Crowley dispatches his apprentice to take care of them.

They were not bears.

These were the days where Morgarath had at his disposal the darkest creatures of myth and legend, and among them were the three Kalkara. and one apprentice, no matter how talented or bright, has no chance against the hunting Kalkara. Especially if he is caught unawares.

Gideon tracks the creatures into the forest. The paws seem too large, half again as wide as a man’s hand, and he thinks that there might be an extra toe, but the path is muddy and it’s difficult to tell. Suddenly, his horse shies underneath him and skips backward, but then she freezes altogether and collapses. Her heart has stopped of sheer terror. As she falls, Gideon just manages to kick himself free of the saddle. He goes for his sword, then realizes it will not be enough. 

Facing him is one of the ape-like beasts, standing nine feet tall with scaly skin and luminous yellow eyes. They draw him like a moth to flame, and it takes all his willpower to drop his gaze. His brain is working well enough to recognize that if a creature wants you to look it in the eyes, it is probably not a good idea to look it in the eyes. 

Faster than thought, he draws his throwing knife and hurls it at the creature’s face. It sinks nearly hilt-deep into its cheek: Gideon is just mere inches off-target, but mere inches could cost him his life. The Kalkara bellows in pain and he feels a moment of satisfaction, but his heart freezes as he hears an answering bellow.

Two answering bellows.

Gideon darts for the river, just a hundred meters away, wades across it, and dives behind a boulder. He can practically feel the Kalkara’s hypnotizing eyes on him, daring him to look up. He still doesn’t know what these things are, but his instincts are sound. His horse looked at those eyes, and his horse is now dead. Bottom line: do not look at the eyes. 

He hears a splash and realizes the first Kalkara has followed him all the way to the river. Gideon closes his eyes. He cannot outrun. He can cower and hide, or he can stand and fight.

As the monster bears down on him, he fires arrow after arrow at its face, hoping to blind those terrible eyes. It is halfway across the river. Three-quarters. 

His third arrow takes it in the right eye, and his fifth the left. It screams, an unearthly, undulating sound, and leaps for the bank, intent only on punishing the one that caused it such agony. 

The first blow shatters Gid’s longbow and numbs his right arm all the way up to the shoulder. He claws his sword out of its sheath with his left hand, and metal meets flesh as the Kalkara strikes at him again. He scores a long cut along his forearm, but the force of the blow nearly knocks the weapon from his fingers. 

Before he has time to rally, the third hit drives him to his knees, cracking ribs and setting his lungs on fire. He can barely roll out of the way as the Kalkara stumbles and collapses next to him, having finally vanquished its archenemy. 

Briefly, he wonders if the sun is setting early, but then realizes his eyesight is dimming; there is no coming back from this. Crowley, he thinks as his vision goes black. Crowley, I failed. 

<>~<>~<>

Three days later, when a panic-stricken Crowley finally receives the report from the search parties, he thinks the same thing. It should have been him out there. It should have been him facing the Kalkara.

He can practically see Morgarath sneering at him. A child has died because of you. You couldn’t protect one apprentice—how will you ever protect forty-nine Rangers? 

A hot rage rises in his chest. Morgarath had taken Pritchard from him, nearly taken Halt, and now he had taken Gideon as collateral damage with one goal in mind: to hurt Crowley as much as possible. 

In a way, it does work. Crowley never takes another apprentice. He no longer trusts himself to bring up another promising young Ranger and see so much potential squandered because of him. He does not want to bury another child.   

But Crowley does not let Morgarath win. He does not rest until Morgarath is well and truly dead. For three decades, he serves as the Corps Commandant, longer than any before him and any after him. 

“Married to his job”, the people joke, but they are actually not far from the truth. 

Crowley is guarding Gideon’s legacy. 

[clover-png]

character quirks!

originally this was going to be a list of passive and active character quirks (ex. passive = loves history but knows nothing about it, active = well, everything on this list), but once i started it, i realized that’s not how it works?? all of your quirks and hobbies and loves and hates leave stains on your personality, even in the tiniest ways. so here’s a list of quirks that actively change your character, with simple explanations! and please remember, this is strictly for characters. it is, in one way or another, based in stereotype! and humans aren’t built around stereotype, you are not built around stereotype. 

i don’t write about what I don’t know about, so almost all of this is taken directly from my own self or someone i know :]

only likes cold pizza/raw bagels/the off-brand version of a popular food - can indicate this character is a particular, detail-oriented person, and typically this type of person is not snobbish, but they are stubborn (if you’re looking for something similar to indicate the person is snobbish: they refuse to eat leftovers, wipe grease off their food, shuns fast-food restaurants) 

homeschooled/grew up homeschooled - coming directly from a homeschooler, we get a bad rep! not all homeschoolers are antisocial, extremely religious or have old-fashioned views on society. that being said, homeschoolers tend to act more like their parents and siblings than other kids do, and that’s where those stereotypes tend to stem from. while many homeschoolers are very sociable, it’s common for them to still be more reserved and a little more socially inept than other kids, just from lack of practice. homeschoolers also tend have a strong sense of loneliness, even if they have lots of friends/have graduated, that feeling will stick.

walks along the curb of the street, swinging one foot in front of the other - turning something as minuscule as walking along the side of a road into a silent game shows that they are in their mind a lot, they live in their imaginations. showing them walking normally can indicate that something’s wrong. traits that match with this quirk but aren’t necessary: quiet, optimistic

hates wearing hats/skirts/tights/etc. - a person that hates hats/skirts/tights/whatever is very much comfort before fashion. they’ll tend to not wear fully matching or fitting clothing and this can stem from a fear of change. if someone who openly dislikes wearing hats comes into the room in a beret, it’s change (yes, it can be as small as that. trust me, it took me 2 years to work up the courage to wear a non-formal dress in front of my family.)

always tapping their foot/bobbing their head/patting their leg - this means someone is more musically inclined than others, and it’s almost always subconscious. they probably play multiple instruments, and come from a family of musicians/music-lovers. close friends/family might make fun of them for dancing all the time, or someone might get frustrated when they won’t stop doing it during a serious moment 

zones out easily/can stare at nothing for hours - similar to the person walking on the curb, a character that tends to zone out on nothing for long periods of time is probably daydreaming about the other lives they could lead. they might feel like they’re stuck with the hand they got dealt in life. when things go wrong, they’ll probably get as far away from every person as possible and fantasize about running away and starting it all over. they don’t have to be loners, but they’ll typically feel isolated and different from their friends, maybe not as invested in their friendship as the other person is. 

having stuffed animals - a character, especially outside of young childhood, having stuffed animals can be a sign of their loneliness, the manufactured hug of a friend or soft fur of a pet when they don’t have the real thing nearby. a character with stuffed animals might be more empathetic and sensitive than others, getting upset if someone makes fun of them for it or holding extra tight onto one that fell or got damaged somehow. they also might have childlike fears or simply be more fearful than most, and the stuffed animals might be a sanctuary for them

draws slight attention to themselves in public (listens to music without earbuds, does things that could be done inside [painting, reading, stuff like that] outside, asks a stranger a question to prove their point in a conversation, wears bold clothes, talks loudly, etc.) - while it’s possible for these to just be seen as obnoxious/extroverted quirks, on a deeper level they can imply the character wants something to happen. they want to be seen by strangers. maybe they consume a lot of entertainment (books, tv, movies) and they subconsciously set up their life to be met with question, then a greeting, then a friendship, constantly giving “The One” a chance to appear. 

hates jewelry - fear of being trapped. a necklace feels like being choked, a bracelet feels like being chained down, a ring feels like circulation is cut off, but also take it in a figurative way. by accepting the jewelry, an expensive gift, they’re accepting that someone cares about them/they’re accepting that they have to wear it enough to make up for the cost. it sounds dumb i know but i can tell you from experience this is a very real thing

puts off work to the last second/procrastinates - i’ve really grown to hate that word. they grew up smart, or with an easy workload, and now they refuse to adjust to the updated workload. this one is short but there’s about a million posts on procrastination, and i’m sure there’s a more in-depth one than i could ever do! some ideas for prompts for this quirk is running out of time on something important, someone getting mad at the character for leaving the work until the last minute when they need them, being overworked, having a stress-induced meltdown and a love interest/forming friendship offers to help 

goes through phases rapidly - based on what kind of phases they are, this could show unrest at home for a secondary character. one day they go to MC’s house wearing florals smelling like fabric softener, soft rock music wafting through the air from their cheap earbuds. they’re making clever jokes and urging MC to go on a walk in nature with them. next week, they show up wearing a ragged, wrinkled black t-shirt and they have bags under their eyes, looking like they haven’t showered in five days. they’re being insensitive with their sarcastic cracks and impatient with MC’s reactions, maybe even admitting they didn’t know why they showed up in the first place. obviously that’s a dramatic juxtaposition, but just an idea.

a gentle vandal (carving their initials into old wood, drawing/writing in textbooks, letters to no one put in cheap bottles and thrown into the ocean, underlining passages in books, so on and so forth) - fear of being forgotten, a good romantic partner/close friend of this character would be someone who reminds them they’re not alone in the universe. 

never paints their nails/does their hair/wears extravagant clothes - fear of being seen as “different,” doesn’t want to be noticed by people. probably was bullied when they were young, or they have a family with a Reputation™ to uphold

struggles to accept compliments - a character that struggles with compliments, and basically any positive attention on themselves, would have low self-esteem to begin with. they probably didn’t grow up being seen as “pretty,” or someone made them feel ugly when they were young, regardless of whether it was true or not (example: Cinderella)

tips restaurant employees/delivery people way above the average/gives big gifts for small celebrations - this could mean they grew up in a upper class/upper middle class household and feels guilty for it, or that they grew up in a lower class/working class household and know what it feels like not to get gifts/have extra money. either way, it can give you insight to a character’s past without too much exposition, just a simple line of dialogue after an action. 

always has at least one band-aid on somewhere - this can show that a character is careless with themselves, or maybe that they have a very active mind and force their body to match it (running to write something down and tripping, getting excited about seeing something pretty to sketch in nature and getting scratched by thorns as they tried to reach it as fast as they could, etc.)

wears vintage clothes and/or watches old movies - in the most accurate sense, i think, a character who enjoys these types of things would likely have an old soul, they probably think life should be more exciting than it is, and they’re dissatisfied with the current state of humanity (this doesn’t mean that they have to have an old-fashioned mindset! i wear vintage clothes and one of my favorite movies is meet me in st. louis, but i’m still VERY glad we don’t live like they did. not everything that makes logical sense in life can be drawn together with a bow on top)

i hope this didn’t come off too preachy or anything? i mean, i don’t know shit, i just like writing and characters that make sense, and i feel like i see a lot of character flaw lists that are very.. generalized, and not everything works for every character! obviously you’re free to use any of these, but if you’d like to show me how you used them in your story i’d love to see it!!! feel free to message me any time!

[the-voltage-diaries]

Hey twinnie🌝❤ What shows do you think the KoP guys would watch?

Wassup, Moon Twin?

Ooh, that took me a while to think of, for sure. But, here you go:

1. Taki Kozaki

Of course, Taki would definitely watch shows centered around renovations and complete make-overs of properties, but I’ll be honest, I’m not very knowledgable about those. Also, my guess is that these are some shows he would watch apart from his usual renovation-based shows.

- Blue Bloods

For some reason, I definitely see Taki as the kind of guy who would watch a lot of crime-based series. It seems like something he would be up for. Blue Bloods is a drama about a family in which almost every person is into some field related to crime, like a lawyer, a detective, a police officer, a police commissioner, et cetera. My deduction is that Taki would enjoy this one, because not only does it have a lot of serious plots, logical deductions, and thrilling cases, but it also has it’s fair share of family moments and sweet scenes. I think he would enjoy the blend of the two, for sure.

- Elementary

As I said, I see Taki as the kind of guy who would watch a lot of crime-based series. This one’s a kind of a crime-based thriller. Elementary is its own form of a spinoff of Sherlock Holmes and Watson. It does have a lot of dry humor and a couple of sweet moments of platonic relationships, but overall it’s largely analytical than humorous. Dry comedy and sarcasm is something I feel Taki would enjoy, and this one would give him just that, combined with really good plots, some amazing deductive reasoning, and a great thrill.

- River Monsters

Taki loves animals, for sure. I mean, he has a pet crocodile, so to speak. I wouldn’t put it past him to sit down and enjoy some animal/wildlife documentaries on channels like National Geographic, Discovery, Animal Planet, BBC, et cetera. Although, he would prefer the reptile-based, or crocodile-based, documentaries more since he has always loved reptiles since he was a kid. River monsters would not only look at crocodiles or reptiles, but also at a variety of other animals who are predators at their core, and I feel like Taki would watch some of that stuff.

2. Yosuke Sagara

- Shark Tank

Yosuke is literally an investor. Like, literally. I don’t see a reason why he wouldn’t watch this one. In this show, basically, aspiring entrepreneurs from around the world pitch their business models to a panel of investors and persuade them to invest money in their idea, which I think is something Yosuke would be interested to watch. He’d get new ideas for what kind of projects he’d like to invest his money into, and he’d be able to keep up with the trends; mainly what kind of products would really work well in the market. It’s kind of a win-win for him.

- The Purge

He would, okay? He just would. This one is like, right up his alley. Yosuke seems like the type of guy who might have a little bit of a sadistic streak and would like watching horror/sort-of-gory shows. The Purge is a mix of horror and psychological thriller, and Yosuke’s personality makes me believe he would like those genres, specifically psychological thriller. I can definitely see him smirking to himself as he starts watching another episode of this one, thinking of all the destruction that the people would cause when the sirens go off. I think he would maybe even watch it for the thrill of it if you know what I mean. The adrenaline he gets out of this would definitely be his thing.

- Succession

Again, all for the thrill of it. And, the satire, too. Yosuke has a wicked sense of humor, and I would like to believe that he would enjoy this one. The show is said to by cynical, dark, greedy, but is also a little funny and whimsical at the same time. I honestly think Yosuke would enjoy such a show where practically all characters seem “evil” and rotten to the core, and where the plot is also a slow burn. There seems to be a metaphorical battle occurring in the show, one without any weapons or blood or gore; basically, purely strategized mind games. Succession is also a largely psychological thriller, or “psychologically abusive,” as some might say. Honestly, it does seem like a show that’d be right up Yosuke’s list of “Must Watches”.

3. Kiyohito Shirakami

I do believe Kiyohito wouldn’t watch shows about modeling, in particular. I’m pretty sure Kiyohito would watch shows about health and fitness, and even fashion, but not modeling. As with Taki, I’m not very knowledgable about health and fitness and fashion-based shows, so this list is basically about what I think he would watch apart from them.

- Dexter

The main protagonist of the series is described as someone who is unemotional. Hmm, that reminds me of someone: Kiyohito. I think Kiyohito would have his thrill of watching Dexter, considering this show is called creepy, yet fascinating. Dexter is again a psychological thriller, and something makes me believe that all of the Pandora guys, particularly Yosuke and Kiyohito, would be into psychological thrillers. So, yeah. Dexter would be one series that Kiyohito would start watching just for the heck of it, but then would be gripped in by the drama, the plot and the plot twists. It seems like his kind of show. Welp.

- The Big Bang Theory

This might come out as surprising, but I do believe Kiyohito would watch The Big Bang Theory. Kiyohito is honestly one of the best KoP guys when it comes to being sarcastic and having a dry sense of humor, and that is basically what this show is; dry humor. Kiyohito would watch this to maybe pass the time and have some fun while doing it, but he would definitely crack at least a smile at the most random punchlines of the show. It seems kinda out of character for him, but if you look at Kiyohito’s sense of humor and his personality, I do believe he would have a good time watching this.

- The Exorcist

I wonder why I think Kiyohito would actually be chill with horror stuff? Maybe because he is anyway so indifferent to a lot of things, haha. Kiyohito would be pretty okay with watching horror stuff, and most of his time would be spent on criticizing the actors’ makeup, I believe. I think Kiyohito would start watching this show with nothing really in mind and would end up having a neutral attitude towards it. Though yes, he may or may not use this show to scare Yosuke off when the latter gets too annoying. It’s a win-win.

4. Shun Randoh

Now, Shun being a director himself makes me think he would be pretty choosy about his shows. He would watch shows which have good direction and cinematography, mainly. Although he would watch a few comedies here or there, mostly it would be well-directed shows. Only the best for the brilliant director.

- Game of Thrones

Game of Thrones is known for its cinematography and writing, it’s plots and plot twists, and this is a show that Shun would definitely go for. Apart from the great storyline, I also think of Shun as a guy who would watch fantasy/action-based shows. Shun is also a highly seductive person, and he isn’t afraid to hide his sensuality, which is why I think he would also appreciate the rather erotic scenes of the show too. This show, for him, would be entertainment and professionalism combined in one, in a sense. While he would enjoy the scenes, particularly the erotic or sexual ones, he would also be looking at the show’s script and direction with a keen eye.

- Chernobyl

Again, a show known for its cinematography and storyline. I don’t think Shun would mind watching something on the darker side of the spectrum, and considering how well this show has been taken by the audience and people in general, he would be keen on trying it. The dramatization of the horrors and the domino effect of the incident unfolding one by one would have him on the edge of his seat, waiting for more. He wouldn’t mind watching something which is a historical-drama in my opinion and would actually, genuinely appreciate the level of detail put into this show.

- The Witcher

The Witcher is another show known for its writing and direction. Shun, in my opinion, wouldn’t mind watching some gore and blood and would take a liking to this show. He would particularly appreciate the combat scenes, the sword fights, and the slight touch of magical effects. Apart from that, he would definitely like the writing of the show, considering it is one of the show’s strongest factors. He would appreciate the beauty of this show, and even though he would like Game of Thrones a little better, he still wouldn’t miss out on this one.

Phew. That was a long one. Of course, these shows are just my opinion on what they would watch. But, I hope I met your expectations, nonetheless. Thanks for the ask!