#mmm i think ill tag them for this one~

[sunlightfeeling]

any song recommendations for someone who wants to listen to more smap but doesn't know where to start?

Hiii~ this is genuinely such a fantastic question; thank you so much for the ask!!

Gosh okay I’m going to break this into two (hopefully small) parts; one being what I think is actually a good official start

and the other that’s just…like my biased favorites 😭😂

Okay, so, for what I officially recommend:

I think that the most palatable way to get a sampling (..smapling..) of SMAP’s discography as a whole would be cruising through their final compilation album “SMAP 25 Years”

SMAP 25 Years is special for a few reasons (both infamous and heartwarming). One of which is that fans were allowed to vote what songs appeared on the album, so it’s not only a great introduction but gives a good idea of what their classics are (source)

But honestly, any of SMAP’s compilation albums (COOL, WOOL, pamS, SMAP Vest) are really fantastic starts. If there’s any songs on those that aren’t vibing (or repeats, tbh; some songs get repeated use a lot), then it’s easy enough to skip, since it’s really just a random mishmash of greatest hits.

The reason why it’s difficult for me to recommend one of their individual albums is because they’re pretty overwhelming. For one, they change genres very frequently. One song will be a lullaby-esque duet. And then the very next is hard rock with the intro being a heavy guitar riff (and hopefully you’ve turned down your music by then 😔)

Now, for my biased picks, I’m going to put that below the cut here. For two reasons:

just in case there’s folks that would rather not see - they are completely valid for that, no matter the reason

and the rest of this post is probably going to be horridly long lol

Before I recc these, a little note on me. I…don’t have a great track record for listening through entire albums. It’s a bit unusual when I can actually put one on and listen through it in its entirety. There’s usually at least one song that I either always end up skipping..or put on repeat for however long my brain deems necessary. …Or both lol. I can probably count on two hands the number of albums I can actually consistently listen to undisturbed. Two of which are…

SMAP 011 (“Su”) and MiJ (disc 1 specifically but disc 2 is also stellar) are both albums that I can recommend wholly. I just really love the range both albums have. Specific songs on these…

(for ease, I’m going to use track number - if y’all want/need song name, let me know ☺️)

Su: Tracks 2, 5, 13; also, all the solos on this album are top-notch (with Shingo and Nakai’s being hysterical on top of that) - tracks 4 (Tsuyoshi), 7 (Shingo), 8 (Nakai), 10 (Goro - weakest imo because slow and sleepy but still good), 11 (Takuya - fun fact: this is the only SMAP-era song that he’s done a studio-recording for in this post-SMAP era which I actually prefer except I wish he did the same ending in that one I don’t care that his voice is deeper and it’s probably impossible now okay im going)

MiJ: Tracks 2, 6, 7, 9, 10 (I love this album a normal amount); the solos on disc 2 like Su are all excellent - they go in order based on member age - oldest to youngest

I could genuinely go on and on (like, I didn’t even get to any singles or album tracks on the others 😭) but I’m a bit worried/self-conscious that I went on for too long lmfao

But that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to pass on those reccs. So if you’d like more anon or anyone else, feel free to ask~

[starry-bi-sky]

i think i'm hilarious -- aka i made blood blossom danny au memes

all of these come from my DpxDC prompt "i am pushing the batdad agenda--" and it's corresponding additions in the reblogs ksdjlf.

i am. rotating them in my head. forever and always. personally i think there should be more batdad aus in dpxdc, their dynamic could be neat. :)

[inherdaze]

jungle — kiyoomi sakusa

kiyoomi x f reader

18+ content, pining, slow burn, sakusa wears dog tags mmm, smut, acquaintances to lovers. kind of a historical au? (think 1930s) idk bro it's like all made up. mentions of pregnancy

9k

summary: kiyoomi seeks serenity after coming home from war.

There’s lots of commotion outside. Hollering, cheering, squeals and shouts paired with the sight of lovers reuniting, families coming together, men picking up their children and spinning them around in the air. You watch from the kitchen window as you wipe down the dishes, see some people carelessly pick the flowers from your yard to bunch up and give to wives, children, husbands, the like. Normally, you’d scold them for being so careless and probably offer a pair of garden trimmers so that they wouldn't crush the surrounding flowers, but you let it pass. Everyone is happy. The war is over. 

Your mother watches as she stands next to you, handing you over the dishes to dry once she’s finished washing them clean. She looks at you from the corner of her eye, gouging out your reaction before clearing her throat. 

“Do you remember Kiyoomi?”

 You freeze for a second, plate and rag in hand as you try to think. “Mm. No?”

“The Sakusa family?”

“Oh,” And then you start again, rubbing the plate dry. You don’t really remember the boy, only that your mother was friends with his mother and that apparently the two of you played around as young children. You don't remember the last time you saw him. Probably couldn’t even point him out in a crowd.

“He’s coming home.”

“From the war?”

 “Yes.” 

“Would you like me to gather some flowers for him? There’s plenty in the backyard, too. None of the crushed ones.” 

She sighs before placing the plate she held back into the sink, turning to face you entirely. 

She says your name softly. “He’s coming home. Here.” 

“Why? For dinner?”

“No– well, yes– but he’ll be staying here. With us.”

You slowly put out the plate face down on the long countertop cloth to let it air dry. “Since when?”

“We’ve been exchanging letters.”

Ah. You had been wondering what that was about. Each time the mail came in, your mother would scurry to get it before you could, holding it to her chest protectively before gently slicing it open in the study, purposely keeping it from you. You thought she had been exchanging letters with some sort of admirer, so to speak. You thought she’d be afraid to tell you she’s moving on after years of your father’s death. 

She continues, “His parents passed a while back– they both fell ill while he was away. He just needs somewhere to stay in the meantime so he can get back up on his feet. I'm sure there are plenty of other families that would be more than happy to host a soldier, but I suppose he would feel more comfortable here. I mentioned the garden and the chickens and he said he’d help you out with those. Don’t let him, though.”

“Huh? Why not?”

Your mother lightly swats your arm and gives a quiet scold of your name, “He isn't here to work. He’s here to rest. He’s been through a lot, you know. Just let him be while he’s here.”

You roll your eyes. Your mother can tell that you're not really annoyed. 

“He seems very reserved in the letters we exchanged. If he’s formal with you, insist that he don’t be. We are friends of his. Make him feel comfortable, okay?” 

You hum and nod. “Okay.”

There’s a pause.

“When will he be here?”

Your mother nearly answers before you've even finished asking.

“Tomorrow.”

You’re an early bird. Even when you don’t want to be, you must. You have to tend to the chickens in the morning, tidy up and make breakfast for your mother before she goes out to the market to sell the eggs. 

The morning dew that sits atop the grass kisses at your shins as you trudge towards the coop, face lit by the oncoming sunrise. The sky shifts from deep blue to a lighter blue to purples and pinks until the sun finally reaches the top of the sky. 

As you get closer to the coop, you hear the familiar and pesky repetitive clucks, appreciative that the coop is farther out into the yard and not by your window.

You slide the coop door open, stepping to the side as they rush out with curiosity.

“Mornin’ kids,” You start before emptying out their dirty water, tossing it into the grass before turning on the hose to fill up the bin.

You replace the water, give them more food, collect the eggs that are deemed ready, and hang out with them for a good thirty minutes to make sure they’re healthy and roaming around like normal. You sit on the grass, knees to your chest as you absentmindedly say hi to them when they pass by or stare at you.

Once the sun has almost fully risen, you grab the basket of eggs and make your way back into the house, slipping out of your boots before stepping inside.

The morning goes as always; Your mother wakes up, thanks you for handling the chickens, thanks you as you place her breakfast on the table, gathers all the eggs she needs to sell, and kisses your cheek before she heads out to the market. 

“Kiyoomi should be here later, once I’m already home. Please make sure the spare bedroom is clean, with fresh sheets. If he happens to arrive early, be nice.” 

“God, don’t act like I’m insufferable! I won’t drive him out.”

She smiles knowingly. “I know, my dear.” 

She looks like she wants to say more, but swiftly turns on her heel and takes her leave.

The rest of the day is spent cleaning up the spare bedroom to make sure it’s nice and welcoming for when your new guest arrives. You smooth out all the bed linen and wipe down the dressers, making all photo frames and little trinkets look presentable. It doesn't take long for you to set it all up– the bedroom has always been very empty. You wonder how it'll look like when it’s more lived-in, with boots and coats and whatever else he may carry laying around. 

You slip into the kitchen and wash your hands, preparing to make lunch. With the curtains on the kitchen window drawn shut, you fail to see the man that climbs up your porch steps, eyes downcast as he raps his knuckles on the door a few times. 

You freeze in your spot almost violently. It’s much too early for him to be here, and when you glance at the clock on the wall, you’re convinced that it has to be someone else– perhaps the neighbor? 

Drying your hands on the apron tied to your dress, you draw back the kitchen curtain to get a little peep.

You almost squeal as you back away from the window, covering your face with your hands like you’ve just seen something you weren't supposed to– but you had just seen him. He was… big. That’s all you could think.

When you open the front door, the two of you stare at each other, silent. 

Yes, he’s big. Broad shoulders, gifted with height, and his chest seems…. inviting in the military uniform he wears. You finally make eye contact with him, scanning over his handsome features, the two little beauty marks that rest atop his eyebrow, the pretty curve of his lips—

“Hello,” He says with an air of formality, and you clutch at the skirt of your dress.

“Hi… hi.”

He stares at you blankly.

“I, ah— come in, Kiyoomi,” You start, standing to the side as he takes off his boots and leaves them by the door, following diligently as you lead him to his room. He doesn’t even spare a glance to look around the house, eyes trained on your back. 

“Here,” You say, opening the door to his room. “The bathroom is down the hall, my room is right there– right across, and my mother’s room is the farthest one down the hallway. There’s a, um, study if you'd ever like to read or spend some time in there. Do as you like,” You explain gently, a warm smile on your features. “I was just making lunch. Are you hungry? Would you like some?”

“No thank you,” He says immediately, looking down at you. “Thank you for letting me stay here.” 

“Of course! My mother should be here in a few hours. For now, the house is all yours– er, ours, but– well, yeah, yours…” You trail off with embarrassment, looking into his eyes for help, hoping he’ll finish your sentence or laugh it off with you. 

He doesn't. 

As soon as you back away and start walking back to the kitchen, he shuts the door softly and coupes himself up in there. 

You frown to yourself, remembering your mother’s words. He seems very reserved, let him be, he’s been through a lot.

You do just that, careful to not make any noise as you prepare lunch, then sit by yourself at the table to eat. There’s a light clink and clatter of the dishes as you wash them, but you can only hope he doesn’t mind. 

Noon turns into night and you’re still alone. You haven’t heard Kiyoomi leave the room or rummage around at all. It’s like he never even arrived. 

You’re not surprised when your mother comes home and deems the house empty (besides you being there) and exclaims that the both of you must rush and start working on dinner because Kiyoomi deserves nothing but the best. You feel your skin prickle hot for some reason. She wasn’t wrong, but if Kiyoomi had heard her say it, it sounded like she was one of those old ladies who desperately fawn over younger men. You didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.

You laughed nervously and bumped her hip with yours, quietly telling her that he had already arrived. 

She gasps dramatically, hand flying to her heart as she scolds you. 

“Why didn’t you invite him out here to sit with you? Has he eaten lunch? Did you offer him lunch? Goodness, my dear, this is no way to host someone. Ask him to step out! Did you show him around the house, at least? Oh, heavens– did you change the sheets?”

Your ears feel terrifyingly warm, knowing very well that your mother was loud enough for Kiyoomi to hear her through closed doors. Just thinking of him overhearing you get scolded made you want to scuffle away and complain in embarrassment to the chickens. 

“My apologies, miss.”

The both of you whirl around to see Kiyoomi, who looks absolutely delightful, you think. 

His curls are mussed as if he had been sleeping, uniform ditched for a skimpy white undershirt tucked into some slacks, the planes of his chest peeking out and greeting you handsomely. The dog tags that are strung along the chain around his neck glint in the kitchen light, almost like they’re saying Hi. “It’s not her fault, I assure you– I had turned down her offer for lunch, and I just wanted some time to myself after arriving. No hard feelings at all.”

He speaks in such a collected and calm manner, and his face and eyes look empty. He’s good at containing all his emotions. 

“Oh,” Your mother breathes out, a wistful smile creeping onto her face. “Oh, my lovely Kiyoomi!” She rushes towards him and cups his face, smushing his cheeks in her hands, beaming up at him. The action makes his eyes widen, hands immediately flying up to push hers away, but he stops himself just in time and lets them fall back to his sides. 

“How you’ve grown! My goodness, it’s been ages, my love, please– please sit down, we’ll make some soup, okay? Just rest. Tell us, how have you been? Any good stories?”

She greets him like a mother would, and for a second, you think you see his features relax. Not wanting to get caught ogling at him, you turn and face the cutting board, lining up all the vegetables needed for the soup. 

The two talk the entire time, your mother silently leaving the task of cooking up to you. You don’t mind at all, keeping your back to the both of them to hide the look of shyness on your face. Every time Kiyoomi speaks, you feel your hands stutter. 

The conversation is mostly your mother gushing over him and how much he’s grown, telling him he’s such a handsome young man, asking him how his trip over here went, and then she asks him if there is a woman in his life. You know that it would be normal for him to feel a little flabbergasted from such a question, but you don’t know why you feel so embarrassed as well. 

You figure it’s because if he says he does have a special someone in his life, your mother would turn around and berate you (in front of him) for not being ‘out there’ enough and for not seeing someone already. 

To your surprise, he weakly mentions that no, he doesn’t have anyone like that in his life. He quickly excuses it by saying that he had been too busy during the war to worry about such things. 

Your mother laughs good-naturedly, flailing her hand around, “Oh, of course. Silly me!”

By the time your mother opens her mouth to tell him that there are plenty of riveting people around town that he may like, you announce with your back still facing them, “Soup’s ready.” 

You serve your mother and Kiyoomi, keeping your head down as you approach him and place his bowl on the table. He thanks you in a quiet, rumbly voice that makes you go completely still for a split second. 

Conversation dies down as the three of you eat. Your mother has pulled out as much as she can from Kiyoomi. He avoided a lot of questions about the war, about his experiences, about what he saw. You can’t help but wonder. 

Your mother interrupts the silence as she subtly turns to face you. 

“How are the vegetables doing?”

“Growing,” Is all you respond as you stuff another spoonful of soup into your mouth. She’s grasping at straws to not let the atmosphere turn awkward. 

You figure that if Kiyoomi is going to be staying here, may as well be casual, treat him like anyone else (despite the fact that he looks like he came down straight from Heaven). 

You shift in your chair, the wood creaking. “Tomorrow, could you buy some more flower seeds from the market? You can pick which. I need to fill in the spaces that were crushed yesterday from all the people.” 

Her eyes light up, “Of course, dearie. Thank you for reminding me.” 

The two of you talk about mundane things for the rest of dinner, topics you usually discuss. Kiyoomi finds it comforting. Makes him feel more at home. 

The next morning, you rise before the sun kisses the sky, as always.

You pull on the short linen clothing you use for working, old stains of mud and grass forever tainting the articles. As quietly as you can, you pad around the house before reaching the back porch, tugging on your work boots before stepping into the fresh morning grass. 

Unbeknownst to you, Kiyoomi is also an early riser, a habit that he has cultivated over years of training. He watches you from the backyard’s dutch door, the top half open. He rests his elbows on the bottom half and leans forward, watching and listening as you greet and coo at the chickens like they’re your children. His eyebrows twitch up when he hears you reprimand one– Stop putting grass in the water, Harold! 

After you dump out the water, you pick up the water bucket and take it over to the pump, working the water into it. With your back turned to Kiyoomi, you don’t hear as he steps through the grass towards you. 

“Good morning,” He greets politely, and you yelp.

Whirling around with the half-full bucket in hand, the water flies out and crashes right into him, soaking his torso and the entirety of his pants. 

You drop the bucket.

“Oh my gosh– oh, Kiyoomi— I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry, oh my goodness– I didn’t– I’m so sorry—”

You're petting his torso worriedly, as if your hands will soak up all the water that has been spilled. He knows you have good intentions and are just trying to help somehow get the water to dry, but your touch makes him stiffen.

You’re repeating that you're sorry, and the more that you ramble on, the more he can hear the tremor in your voice as you squeak and swallow and try to push this upcoming embarrassment down. Kiyoomi lifts his hands and places them right on your arms, completely stilling you. “It's fine.” 

It comes out clipped, like it's not really fine, but you can’t tell if he's annoyed. His face remains stoic. 

“I’m so sorry,” You whisper.

“It's okay. You weren't aware that I was here. I understand.” 

You look over him again, the bottom half of his cotton shirt soaked and his pants clinging onto his legs like paint. You’re so embarrassed and ashamed that you can't even find it in yourself to admire him. 

“You’ll– you’ll get sick. Let’s go inside,” You plead, stepping away from his touch and gathering your skirt in your hands to run back into the house, hastily kicking off your boots before prying the bottom half of the door open.

He watches you scurry around the house to make him some tea, pouring water into the kettle and sorrowfully letting him know it’s gonna take a few minutes. You advise that he changes but don’t push it on him too much, not wanting to be over controlling.

He disappears into the room and shuts the door, and you plop onto the dining table chair. Resting your head in your hands, you mentally chastise yourself for messing up like this, and on the first day that he's been here, too. 

The kettle whistles. You pick yourself up to see Kiyoomi already looking at you, in a pair of clean clothes. Embarrassment crawls up your spine. 

“I’m sorry.” You say again, turning to silence the kettle and pour the water into a mug before adding a few loose tea leaves. 

“I’ve already forgiven you.” 

“I know, I know but– I’m really sorry.”

He only sighs. You take that as a sign he’s frustrated. 

“I’m stepping back outside,” You say, “Still have to get stuff done.” 

He nods stiffly. You walk with your tail between your legs to the backyard porch, putting on your boots and this time shutting both halves of the dutch door.

You confide and whine to the chickens as you clean up and spread out their food.

Despite the incident, Kiyoomi insists that he help you out in the mornings. He follows you out to the back porch and manages to slip past the threshold before you can shut the bottom half of the dutch door to trap him inside (he can always just open the door and walk by, but you tell him it’s the prospect of trapping him inside that matters the most. His eyebrow twitches at that). 

He lingers as you talk to the chickens, which you do quietly now that you know that he’s there. He pretends to look away when you tell Harold good morning. 

When you finish saying your greetings to the birds, you tell him to go back inside. This is your job only and he should take this time to rest or get some extra hours of sleep– but he insists. He tells you he can’t sleep for any longer, he’s spent years rising early and getting straight to work and if he were to lay in bed he’d just lay restless. 

You know your mother will scold you later, but you offer him some work to do anyway. You tell him to replace the water while you give them fresh food. And he does so gladly, falling into a rhythm with you that, if a stranger looked at the scene, would convince them that he belongs here and always has. 

There’s this sort of look of serenity on his face, like he’s content to be doing something rather than staying in the house (which is what your mother has been pressuring him to do). 

The rising sun kisses his face, reminding you of his beauty. His skin practically glows and you can’t help but let your eyes linger on the moles on his forehead. 

In this kind of lighting, you see faded scars on his hands and arms, earned from hardwork and fighting and war and other things you cannot even imagine. They make him seem gruff (more than he already is) and in a way, scary. But the way he handles the chickens and the land and the water with such a tender touch tells you otherwise. For a brief second, you wonder if he would hold you with such care as well. You shoo the thought away. 

Kiyoomi stays with you while you watch over the chickens. He stands while you sit on the grass.

“Talk to them,” You encourage. 

He lifts an eyebrow. “And what should I say?”

“Ask them how they are.” 

Kiyoomi clears his throat and looks at one of the chickens, “My… My dear Harold,” He starts, “I hope you are in good health.” 

You laugh, “So formal, Sakusa.”

He finds himself humming. Humming. Humming in amusement.

When you're done with the chickens, you tell him he can go back inside and relax while you check up on all the vegetables, but he tells you he wants to help with that too.

You untie your apron and start checking on and picking the ripe vegetables, bundling them in the cloth. Kiyoomi, truthfully, seems a little lost as he handles pulling out the vegetables and leafy greens with a sort of hesitance as if he’s afraid to hurt them. You scoot over closer to him and offer some help. 

“They won’t cry in agony, Kiyoomi.” 

“I–” He starts, embarrassed. “You mistake me.” 

“How so?”

He doesn’t answer, runs out of excuses. Suddenly Kiyoomi thinks the sun feels warmer when your hands brush over his own to guide him, encouraging him to pluck at the vegetables. He gets the hang of it, bundling up all the produce in your apron before the two of you make your way back inside. 

When your mother sees the both of you step in, kicking off your boots and hands stained with dirt, she tsks at you. 

“I specifically told you not to ask for any help.” 

Embarrassment blooms in the depths of your chest. Getting scolded in front of Kiyoomi will be the death of you. You want to defend yourself but you don’t want to throw him under the bus, either. You hold the bundle of vegetables and greens closer to your chest, almost protectively. 

“She did no such thing,” Kiyoomi interjects before your mother can continue. He stands tall, seems bigger, voice collected but strong enough to cause the both of you to jump. It’s been ages since you and your mother have been in the presence of someone as powerful as Kiyoomi. 

He visibly slackens, clears his throat. “She didn’t ask for my help– told me to go inside, actually. I took it upon myself to help her.” 

“Oh,” Your mother breathes out, tone suddenly sweet and forgiving. “I see.” 

The silence that rests between the three of you could pierce your ears. You skitter into the kitchen to wash all that you’ve collected and leave your mom and Kiyoomi alone. In a matter of seconds, she’s already cooing at him and telling him that there’s no need for him to be working, it’s fine if he wants to rest inside, there’s plenty of time for him to spend his days off. He’s silent in response. 

After you make breakfast and your mother leaves for the market, you gather all the dishes and make a beeline for the sink, pouring hot water over the dishes to scrub them clean. 

Kiyoomi follows up behind you, rolling up the sleeves of his cotton shirt, bunching it up right above his elbows. You watch as he leans forward to grab a washcloth, swallowing when you see his dog tags swing low as he dips down. They clink back onto his chest when he stands upright. 

“Thank you,” He says suddenly, eyes focused on the plate in his hands as he wipes it in a circular motion. 

“What for? I should be the one thanking you, Kiyoomi. You defended me in front of my mother.” 

He takes a second to formulate what he wants to say. “I must thank you for letting me work with you. I know your mother has good intentions, and I appreciate that she insists I rest.” 

You tilt your head up at him, silently asking if he will continue. 

Kiyoomi, unbeknownst to you, is facing an internal battle with himself. Years of being in war and surrounded by men who believe vulnerability is weakness often leaves him staying quiet in moments where he wishes to speak. He mulls over what he wants to say again, wondering if you’d laugh him off and tell him to not be silly. But he knows that you sense something is up, your eyes taking on a glimmer of understanding and kindness before you look down at your plate. “I won’t force it out of you, Kiyoomi.” 

He looks at you affectionately, but you miss it as you stack the plate on the counter. 

“Well, since you’re practically pleading me to share my thoughts, I’ll tell you.” 

That makes you laugh. You laugh a gentle little laugh, and Kiyoomi has to turn back and face the dishes so that he doesn’t lose his thoughts. 

“Your mother, I… I know she means no harm. I know that she may believe that I need rest and time and some sort of recuperation period. I don’t mean to be rude, but she… it feels as if she is doing worse than good, for me.” 

You nearly freeze on the spot, worried about what he’ll say next. You’re scared that you and your mother have ruined his whole stay. 

Kiyoomi breathes out your name, “I assure you that I am not a wounded dog that must be left alone to rest and sleep the pain away. I want to live a normal life, now. I’ve faced enough estrangement in the war. Please, allow me to work and live with you just as anyone else would.” 

It’s a simple, simple request. A simple request that would have anyone cheering and clapping and showing him to the damaged flowers in the front yard and putting him right to work. It’s a simple request that makes your heart clench and twist in the caverns of your chest, knowing that he wants to live a life of normality and serenity. Knowing that he has opened up to you about being shunned away. It makes you feel trusted, and in a way, sought out. 

You’re silent for a beat too long and Kiyoomi looks like he wants to scrub away all the words he just said with the way he resumes at washing his plate. As you set another one to dry, you tell him calmly, to prevent the feeling of pity arising in the air, “Of course, Kiyoomi.” 

The corners of his lips twitch up when you tell him the bushes out front need to be trimmed. 

You tell your mother of Kiyoomi’s request that same night, and she scoffs and frowns and throws a little fit before she caves. She initially insists that you only give him light work, but eats up her words at the glower you throw her way. 

He helps you trim the bushes, the weeds, helps you with the vegetables and the chickens and watches eagerly as you prepare food so that he can take on that task later on. 

You stir the soup around in the pot, sprinkling in some herbs and seasonings to add some more flavor. He asks you how much you use, you tell him you just know in your heart when to stop. When the kitchen falls quiet, you pick on him and teasingly ask, And how should you cook? And he answers, suppressing a laugh and an eye roll, With love. 

You peer down into the pot. 

“Okay. Kiyoomi, I am trusting you to deem it ready. Have a taste. The fate of this dinner falls on you.” 

He bites his cheek at your dramatics.

You bring the ladle up to his lips and Kiyoomi has to lean forward a little to meet you halfway. You press the spoon to his lips and he lets the liquid in, his eyes locked on yours as he takes a sip. You feel small in some invigorating, exciting way. 

He pulls away to think about the taste. “A little more rosemary.” 

You eye him carefully but take his word, dipping the ladle back into the pot and sprinkling in a few more leaves. After a few stirs, you scoop the liquid back into the spoon and hold it up to him again. 

He leans forward without being told, almost eager to have you press it to his mouth. Again, he keeps his eyes trained on your face as he has a taste. 

When you pull the ladle away, he remains close to you, face inches away from your own. 

Your fingers twitch. 

“Yes,” He breathes out, your lashes flutter. “It’s ready. Made with love.” 

You can’t tell if your mind is playing tricks on you, but he seems to be inching closer and closer, your grip tightening on the end of the ladle as you start freezing up, debating whether or not to shut your eyes. 

You watch as his pretty eyes close, and with your heart leaping and palms sweating around the ladle from nervousness and the heat that remains in the small space between you two, you let your eyes slip shut. 

You know it– you know it, it’s coming, his lips right against yours, you think you can already taste him—

“I’ve arrived early!”

The both of you jump backwards and the ladle collides with the floor. 

“S-Sorry,” You whisper to Kiyoomi, picking up the ladle and tossing it in the sink before grabbing a different one off the kitchen rack. His shoulders sag and you think you hear him sigh, but he composes himself quickly as your mother makes her way into the kitchen. 

She sees the two of you in front of the soup pot and beams, missing how stiff the both of you look and how you’re wiping your sweaty hands on your apron.

“Teaching Kiyoomi how to cook? Good! Good good, more men should partake in household chores. I cannot wait to taste how Kiyoomi’s soup comes out, should he cook for us soon.” 

He nods curtly, watching as you dip the new ladle into the liquid. You look shaken up, movements jagged and nervous, and he fears he’s done something terribly wrong.

“Did you teach him the most fundamental lesson in cooking, dearie?”

At that, a smile slips onto your face. 

“Yes. Cook with love.”

When the three of you eat dinner together, Kiyoomi mulls over the fact that it was made with love. Your love. He wants to eat so much that he feels full of your affections. He wants so much of it that he cannot help but decline anyone else who offers food, because he’ll be full of your love. 

You two never bring up the almost-kiss. Kiyoomi is scared that he’s pushed a boundary and you’re scared that you misread the situation– so the two of you remain silent and try to fall back into the familiar pattern of days, the rhythm you two share. 

The tension is nearly unbearable when the two of you are less than two feet apart. It almost hurts. It hurts Kiyoomi to look at you so longingly and you never notice. It hurts you when you try to scoot a little closer and all he does is move away. You think it's because he's disgusted with you. He just wants you to feel comfortable. 

Days pass and the both of you pack the incident up and back away into the furthest crevice in your minds. Everything seems alright again– you both talk to the chickens, trim the flowers and cook dinner by each other's side.

You’re preparing to cook and pull your apron off the hook rack that’s nailed right by the kitchen entrance. Kiyoomi watches as you slip it on and watches when you huff in frustration as you try to reach behind yourself and tie it off. Your arms start getting sore from the awkward position they've been in, the apron straps unraveling again and again in protest. You’re about to let the damn thing flail loose until you hear Kiyoomi clear his throat behind you. 

“Let me help.”

Your cheeks burn. 

He delicately takes the straps into his hands, making the base knot against your back and pulling it. “Is that good?” 

It’s a little loose. 

“Tighter, please.”

He pulls. It’s almost like you’re drawn backward, nearly knocking into his chest. He starts tying up a little bow and you feel the brush of his fingers against the small of your back, shivers running up your spine and shoulders. You have to hold yourself back from twitching. 

“There,” He says, taking a step back and admiring his handiwork. He keeps his eyes trained on the bow, tries to hold himself back from drinking in your entire figure. 

It’s oddly domestic, intimate. It has you drifting off in thought, has you confirming all your wonders about his touch that had crowded your mind ever since that day when you saw him pull out the vegetables. He is gentle. You can only hope that the softness of his touch is a testament to his feelings (more specifically, his feelings about you). 

You cough. You make it awkward. You thank him in a quiet, choked up voice before gathering all the pots needed for dinner before scrambling away to start on the food. Kiyoomi thinks he made you uneasy and this time, stands farther away from you when you show him how to prepare the food. Your heart aches at the same time as his. Both of you are back to square one. 

The following days are painfully repetitive. It’s a cycle of the two of you falling back into place, and then your hands brush his, or you catch him staring, or you lean in too close to him, and then the both of you are creating more distance and relapsing into silence and copious amounts of space. 

On this particular night, the two of you are sitting far apart, him on the rocking chair with an open book, and you on the other side of the living room, pressed into the far corner of the couch, embroidery hoop in hand. 

You could trick yourself into thinking that there’s a sense of peace that blankets the two of you, a scene of quiet comfort and domesticity before there’s a dull knock on the door. 

You both freeze. You’re the first one to get up to go check, and Kiyoomi is a little too late in his reaction as he tries to tell you that he’ll get it, a weird sense of protectiveness overcoming him. 

The door is already open and the air is knocked out of your lungs. 

Before you stands a tall, handsome man, brown hair slightly disheveled, a smile growing as he looks down at you. He is very attractive. But not as charming as Kiyoomi, a voice in your head whispers. 

“Well, well, well,” He starts, leaning onto the door frame. “Didn’t know Omi was staying with a pretty little lady.” 

“Miya,” You hear from behind you, nearly jumping as your skin burns hot knowing there are two striking men trapping you. 

“Ah! My old friend!” The man cheers, his eyes searching yours for approval to step inside. Without any hesitation, you grant him access, slowly backpedaling into Kiyoomi’s chest with a squeak before he moves out of the way, the two of you letting the man inside (much to Kiyoomi’s dismay). 

“Miya,” Kiyoomi starts again, gaze hardened. “What are you doing here?” 

“Don’t be like that, my good friend,” The man, Miya, repeats. “Hurts when you address me by last name.” 

Kiyomi doesn’t retort. He won’t play into the man’s tricks of beating around the bush. 

Finally, he fesses up. 

“Bo and Shoyo and I are going to meet up at the pub in a bit, thought you’d like to come along.” 

You see Kiyoomi make a face. 

“I have suffered enough from your presence over the last few years. Please do not try to rope me back into your antics.” 

“Omi!” The grown man whines, face falling before he remembers that you’re standing there. Slowly, his face shifts into a wicked smile, and Kiyoomi’s frown deepens. 

“Ah ah ah,” He starts, dipping down and leaning in closer as if he’s examining you. “I know why you’re so adamant about staying. Find yourself a pretty little wife?” 

The both of you choke. 

You’re about to protest, but Kiyoomi is pushing Miya out the door, effectively letting you hide behind the broad expanse of his back, but you peek out from behind him to see what’s happening. 

“If I– If I go with you this time, will you swear to not come back?”

“Don’t be like that, Omi.”

“Miya.”

“Just say Atsumu! And fine! I won’t visit after this. Won’t steal your pretty lady away.”

“You are unbearable.”

Your cheeks feel hot as Kiyoomi turns around to face you, face irritated. 

“I’ll be on my way. I should be back before it gets too dark out. Please stay safe.” 

You give him a meek goodbye as you watch him pull his coat from the rack next to the door and slide it on, watch closely as he threads his arms through the sleeves, watch as the article fits snugly against his form, watch as he again proves that he is a sight for sore eyes. 

After you shut and lock the door, you rush to the kitchen window to get a peek at the both of them descending the porch stairs, watch as Atsumu laughs and hangs close to Kiyoomi as the latter tries again and again to maintain the space between them and throws unimpressed looks his way. 

When your mother comes home, you tell her Kiyoomi went out with his friends. She smiles and thanks the heavens, happy that he’s finally getting out there. She tells you she hopes he finds someone he may like while he’s out.

You only hum in response. 

Hours pass and Kiyoomi is still out. You and your mother have already eaten dinner and she’s already fast asleep. You’re already in your nightgown and tired of waiting around. 

You step outside and stand by the chicken coop. You watch them sleep and some of them scatter around and you talk to them as if you’re sending wishes to the universe. Tell them you hope Kiyoomi is okay. Tell them you hope he gets home safe. 

As soon as you’re stepping back inside the house, there are drunken laughs and weak knocks at the front door. Not wanting to seem too excited, you take a few deep breaths to pass time before you hear that Miya boy holler out a muffled Pretty lady, come and get him! Which is nearly cut off by a familiar groan. Kiyoomi throws some swear words around. 

You open the door and find that the two of them were using it as support as they nearly fall into you. Atsumu catches you before you can trip on your own feet and fall backward. 

“Hi,” He breathes out into your face, and you have to hold back from scrunching your nose. He smells of liquor but his steady arms keep you rooted in place, his physique nearly swallowing you whole. 

“Hello,” You start, hyper aware of how you look and if you have any blemishes on your face and how close the two of you are, but before you can think of anything else to find a flaw in, Atsumu is pulled back by Kiyoomi. 

“Stop terrorizing my host,” Kiyoomi hiccups out, trying his hardest to remain stern and imposing, but his friend only laughs brightly.

Atsumu slurs out your name, “You must know,” He starts, leaning his arm on the door frame, trying to pose coolly. “Omi mentioned you an awful lot tonight. Think he might have taken a—” 

“Miya.” 

“Yes, my most beloved Omi,” Atsumu professes, cheeks pink and dewy from all the alcohol. “I’ll leave you two be.” 

He clumsily spins on his heel, trips on his way down the steps, and crushes another flower bush. 

Your eyes flash with pain and Kiyoomi shuts the door before you can see Atsumu trip into anything else. He’s rather good at composing himself, straightening his face and posture as he looks at you. 

“Would you like some dinner?”

“Yes, please.”

You find out soon that Kiyoomi is mouthy when he’s drunk. After you reheat what was left over from dinner and slide the plate towards him, he asks that you sit down with him. His face flashes with disappointment when you sit across from him instead of right by his side. 

In his drunken state, he spills all that he’s kept inside without you even needing to probe. Tells you he plans to get going soon, has his eye on a place, tells you he's ready to move on and start life from scratch. He tells you he's tired of you avoiding him like the plague, but there's no malice behind his voice– only pure disappointment, like he’s sulking. At that, you perk up and lean forward, guiltily trying to fish some more out of him.

“Hate that you stay so far away,” He grumbles before stuffing his fork in his mouth. “Always jumping and skittering around me like I’m, I’m– frightening. Hate that you think I’m scary.” 

He hates that you keep your distance, hates that you've deemed him untouchable, hates that you see him as some warlord man who will crush you beneath the soles of his shoes if you utter something incorrectly. 

“Miya,” He suddenly blurts, and for a second you think he thinks you’re the man that just left. 

“Miya told me to confess to you.” 

Your blood runs cold. Confess…? 

Kiyoomi is quiet after that, finishing up his food with sad eyes. He wants more and more and more, any drop of your love that he can get, he will take it. 

You don't ask if he means confessing by telling you all that he hates or if he means confessing something else. Something else that has your stomach stirring, heart doing odd twists as your fist the skirt of your dress. It's hard to think about it when he's right in front of you and slurring his words and clumsily pushing his plate away. It's something you must think about later, in the solace of your own room. 

When he’s done, you help him shrug off his coat, watch as the expanse of his back reveals himself to you. You guide him to his room, expecting him to close the door as soon as he steps in again, but this time, he turns to face you and leans on the frame. He swallows as he looks over you, eyes droopy and tired, and he looks so vulnerable in this light. He’s loosened up, mouth parted only slightly as he lets his eyes wander where he usually doesn't when sober, lets his mind think what he usually holds back on any other day. 

He breathes out your name. You look up at him curiously. 

“I wish you could come with me.” 

You stiffen. You gently place your hands on his chest and push him back into his room slowly– your touch makes him smile. 

“Goodnight, Kiyoomi,” is all you say. 

“Goodnight, angel.” 

Just like the almost-kiss, neither of you bring up what Kiyoomi said that night. It's an elephant in the room– at least, to you. You’re not sure if Kiyoomi even remembers what he said. (He does). 

The two of you delve into another game of dancing around each other in circles, putting on a show that makes it seem like everything's alright and that your hearts don’t ache. Neither of you are aware that when night falls and you're in your respective rooms, the both of you dwell and worry about what you've said and done. 

As of late, Kiyoomi hasn't been around. He still helps you with his morning tasks, but after breakfast, he slips out of the house and tells you he will be searching around town for work with his friend Miya. You know that he doesn't owe you any explanations, but some part of you appreciates it. 

(Kiyoomi knows this, too. He wants you to know he isn't seeking anyone else out there).

Day in and day out, he's around less and less. You start to think that Kiyoomi is now trying to get rid of his feelings ever since you didn't exactly reciprocate what he said that night, when he was drunk.

One heartbreaking evening, Kiyoomi announces that he’ll be leaving soon over dinner. Your mother has a big smile on her face as she congratulates him and cups his face and cries on and on about how proud she is and that he deserves all the best. You nod along to everything that she says, but your vision blurs and all the twines of your fork blend together and it’s hard to see what you’re eating. It's even harder to hold back your sniffles as she starts asking him where he’ll move and where he’ll be working and if he's met anyone. She's always on his back about that last one. It makes your heart feel bitter and heavy. 

The next morning, your mother insists that she go out to the market and get Kiyoomi some farewell gifts. He reassures her that she doesn't really have to, tries to convince her to stay as she's already putting on her coat, and then she's walking out the door. 

Kiyoomi asks if you could help him tidy up before he leaves. It’s more of a statement than a question, so you oblige. 

You help him take off his sheets and load them into a basket to wash later. You wipe down the dresser and the desk, help sweep the floors, help him fold his clothing neatly so that his suitcase shuts securely. 

When everything's done, you wipe your hands nervously on your apron and give him a curt nod, turning to leave the room.

“Stay,” He suddenly blurts, fists clenching at his sides. “I have to tell you something before I go.” 

And so you turn and face him, letting your hands fall to your sides. He steps closer to you. 

“Before I go,” He starts, eyes scanning your face for any emotion, but he gets nothing. You look numb. 

“I don’t expect anything from you in return, but I must tell you, or else I don’t think I can live with myself. You,” He hesitates, feeling like he instead wants to turn away and save it for another day. 

The curious glimmer in your eye pulls him back in. 

“You have captured my heart,” Kiyoomi says breathlessly, “The entirety of my soul. I have no regrets in opening myself up to you, in letting you in, and I can say that you have made me a better man. I want to be vulnerable with you as I am now, time and time again. I want us to be one, but to be our own all at once.” 

His eyes search yours frantically, “I love you.” 

Your mouth drops open. 

Hands shaky, you try smoothing out your dress and formulating a response, the right response, one that tells him you feel the same.

Kiyoomi begins to lean away, taking a step back, face calm. “As I’ve said, I don’t expect anything from you in return. You can leave, if you wish.” 

You stay rooted still. 

“Kiyoomi,” You finally squeak, voice cracking like you're on the verge of tears. The tone of it makes him stand up a little straighter, like he's worried about what he's done, but then you're beckoning him forward with your hand.  

He comes in closer, approaching you like you’re injured- gentle and calm like he mustn't startle you any further. You try to lean into him, try to pull him closer, hands wrapping around his shirt and bringing him towards yourself, voice shaky as you manage to get out, “And I you.” 

It’s all he needs. It’s all he needs before he’s dipping down, lips slotting against your own as you sigh out wantonly. Days and weeks and months of pent up feelings and unspoken words all pour out in one kiss, a kiss that has you stumbling backward and grasping at his shirt, his hands roaming down your back and pulling you into him, closer and closer and closer, like he is going to fuse the two of you together. 

(He wants to). 

It isn’t long until you find yourself pressed into his bed, both of your clothes thrown into some corner of the room, underwear torn off as he hovers above you, licking into your mouth and grinding against your cunt. 

“Kiyoomi,” You whimper once he pulls away. “Please.”

He dips down again to kiss and nip at your chest, the metal of his tags stinging your skin and giving you shivers. Kiyoomi hums into your shoulder, licks a stripe up your neck before lifting himself off the bed, planting his hands on your hips. He drags you closer to him, lifting you up as he drags his cock over your warmth. 

“Such a pretty little cunt,” he groans as he slips in, eyes falling shut when you immediately flutter around him. Kiyoomi almost falters, almost curls in on himself and leans atop of you again before he collects himself and starts dragging his cock in and out, hissing at the way you clamp down on him. 

It’s a build up, Kiyoomi starting gentle and slow until you’re bucking up your hips and whining at him to go faster, till the only thing you can get out is a weak string of please please please. 

Kiyoomi cages you beneath him again as he starts drilling into you, broken cries slipping past your lips as your hands race up and down his back, leaving light scratches that make him moan so prettily right by your ear. 

He brings his hands to your thighs, pushing them up and trapping them against your chest and your eyes roll back, body falling pliant to him. He’s so close, all up in your face and humming about how wet you are for him, how fucking good you feel, how you’re made for me, doll, all for me.

His breath fans your face as he thrusts into you desperately, making the bed shake. The tags on his chain bump into your chin, clinking softly like little chimes and bringing you back time and time again as your mind spirals under the feeling of him pounding into you. Kiyoomi grunts and lifts himself up for the fastest second, taking the tags in hand and ripping the chain off his neck, metal grazing the wood floor as it slides away. His irritation with it makes you want to laugh, but the sound gets caught in your throat as his cock hits the sweetest spot in you, making your toes curl as you cry out his name. 

He watches you as your hands sneak down, nimble fingers spreading apart your folds to try and get a good look at his length sliding in and out of you. Kiyoomi looks down, watches the spot where the two of you meet, watches as his dick comes out covered in slick before pushing himself back in. 

“Fuck, fuck, angel, you’re so– so good, such a good girl for me.”

Your head bobbles up and down in a nod, weakly whimpering out his name, “I want to cum, please let me– let me cum all over you, Kiyoomi!” 

He shudders, hand coming up to grab at your jaw. “Look at me. Look at me when you cum.” 

You sob out pathetically, legs shaking and twitching as you tighten around him, gushing for what seems like hours until you fall limp, tears invading your vision. Kiyoomi murmurs praises into your cheek before planting both hands on your hips again, using you to reach his high, and you let him, let yourself be his little doll. 

You feel his warm seed trickle into you, stomach fluttering at the sensation before he collapses on top of you. 

Kiyoomi nestles his face into your chest for a few minutes before rolling onto his side, cupping your cheek with his big hand. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” 

You nodded, trying to scoot in closer to him, albeit weakly. 

“I love you, Kiyoomi.” 

He smiles. He’s beautiful, you think. He opens his mouth to return the affection, your hand coming up to brush his curls away, but there’s a telltale sound at the door that alarms the both of you. 

In an instant, you two are up, laughing and tripping over your own feet, Kiyoomi hustling into his slacks as you awkwardly slide your dress back on, thumping into the footboard of the bed as your mother chirps out like a bird, “I’m home!” 

“Your mother,” Kiyoomi says in a hushed tone, leaning close to you as he buttons up his shirt, “Always has to go and interrupt us.” 

You smile up at him cheekily, and he catches the mischievousness in your eyes. 

“Just means that you must take me with you, I presume?” 

You step out into the grass of the backyard, the sun already hanging in the sky since you’re a little bit late to your task. Nonetheless, you head straight towards the chicken coop and unfasten the doors, the chickens pouring out and clucking around obnoxiously, as they always have. The rest is muscle memory– throw out the old water, replace it, add in fresh food, sit with the chickens. The familiarity of it all soothes you– not that you need soothing. You simply feel in touch with your roots again. 

“Good morning, Harold.” You jeer at one particular chicken, who eyes you warily. You laugh. “Now don’t be jealous, I’ll always come back to check on you.” 

He gives an approving cluck. 

You gather yourself and get back up, slipping off your boots on the back porch. As you approach the dutch door, you see someone already leaning onto the bottom half of it, a little bouquet in hand. 

“He told me to give this to you,” Your mother swoons, holding out the bundle of flowers to you. A laugh bubbles at your lips as you observe the flowers, holding the stems together, “Aren’t these from the front yard? Such a romantic,” You joke, rolling your eyes as you make your way inside. You tuck the flowers into one of your mother’s vases to keep them safe. 

“I’ll get started on breakfast,” You call out, despite it already being later in the day and, technically, lunch time would be rolling around. 

“Oh no no,” You mother gasps, a sound that you had become all too familiar with when Kiyoomi was around, when she’d clutch her chest in shock. 

“You rest, my dear, I’ll start working on the food.” 

“Mother,” You press, “You need to go rest. That’s the exact reason why we came over here!”

“Nonsense!” She chimes, pushing you down to sit at the dining table as she pads over to the kitchen. You remain still for a few moments to appease her, but then the front door creaks open and you’re on your feet immediately. 

“Hi lover,” You say almost bashfully as Kiyoomi approaches you, wiping the sweat off his forehead as he sinks down to kiss your forehead, your chin, your lips. 

“Hi, my little doll,” he mutters against you before pulling away. “Did you like the flowers I got you?” 

You laugh, observing the green and brown stains on his white undershirt, evidence of his hard work in the front yard. “I shouldn’t be praising a thief, seeing as you took my mother’s flowers right from her yard.” 

“Oh?” He suddenly challenges, “I think this thief deserves a little praise, seeing as I successfully made your heart mine.” 

You can’t help but scoff, tongue poking at your cheek with how embarrassing he is, how corny he’s become now that he’s in love. 

Your mother scurries back in with two plates in hand, telling you both to Sit, sit! like dogs, and Kiyoomi looks at you with a knowing smile on his face. Always interrupting things.

As the three of you start eating, your mother points her fork accusingly at you. 

“And you, my sweet girl, better eat up. You need more nutrients for when a baby is on the way.” 

You choke. Kiyoomi smiles into his cup as he takes a sip. 

“We’re not expecting,” You scold, stabbing your fork into your food. “You can’t just say things like that, mother—”

“How come? You never know! With the two of you in that new big home, you’ll surely want to fill in some space. You’re young! There’s no shame!” 

“You’re the one who may as well fill up the space, visiting nearly every day!” 

“Oh honey, I’m just excited for you—” 

The bickering is all in good fun, Kiyoomi knows. He takes your hand into his underneath the table, finger brushing against the golden band that encompasses your own. 

Yes, he thinks to himself, heart swelling. Perhaps it’s time to start filling up the space.

[multifariousqueer]

hear me out— crazy and openly flirty! reader with her crazy and jealous bf Miles 42. Expand on that however you want

Okay so I had a thought...

A/n: Keep requesting fics as always. I’m not gonna be as active but I’ll post as often as I can bc I’m going on vacation for a week but idk, ill prolly still post a ton 💀

Warnings: Mentions of blood, implied murd3r, you being a flirt and Miles being crazy asf, lmk if I forgot some

It seemed like a pretty normal day, you were designing some stuff for one of your classes and y/f/n(your crush/friend) decided to tag along. Y’all weren’t that close but everyone could tell there were sparks between you two, even more so than your boyfriend Miles.

Everyone(even y/f/n) knew that you two were dating and were happy but they still interfered. People claimed you were a slut and you were insane and you were forcing Miles into a relationship even though, people close to y’all claimed it to be the opposite. You never really broke the habit of flirting for fun and this pissed Miles off to no end:

“Y/n he thinks you’re single” Miles would say

“Well I’m not. I’m just naturally flirty” you would defend

“You’re also beautiful mami and people want to take advantage of that” Miles said

“Well thats why I have you” you would say, standing on your tiptoes to kiss Miles

“Mmm he better watch himself, let’s just say that next time he pulls that shit, I might not be so nice"

Miles was a wonderful boyfriend but your exact opposite. Where you were bright, happy, always had a smile on your face and friendly; Miles was dark, nonchalant, cold and walked around like his opps were around the corner, about to kill you. You two shared a few things though, you were both crazy and possessive of each other. If Miles spoke to a girl you didn’t know, you would come over and kiss him, touch him, and flirt with him; making him flustered

“Miles, te necisito, papi” you would flirt while tilting your head and rubbing his lower back

“Oh! Who is this?” the girl asked, with a hint of venom in her voice

“I’m Y/n but you can call me his wife” you said, putting out your hand for her to shake

“Girl chill, we’re 16. He ain’t marrying you anytime soon” the girl clapped back

“You don’t know me.” Miles would say coldly to the girl

“And you won’t get the chance to” you would finish and smile at the girl

The girl walked away in a huff after that and Miles smirked at you:

“You jealous ma?"

“No. I just don’t want people pushing up on my man” you said

He chuckled and said:

“Don’t worry, Mami; I’m not feeling no one else but you."

After this little escapade; You and Miles had the mutual agreement to stop flirting with other people and you held up your end of that well until y/f/n came along and kept pressuring you to go out with them and give them a chance:

“You know, if you were with me, I’d never let you out of my sight. Anywhere you go, I’d go. Class? I’ll carry your books. Home? I’m right behind you. The Bathroom? I’m-“ they started

“You’re what? No. Go ahead and continue that sentence, I dare you” Miles said suddenly

“MILES!!! Thank God you’re here, I was so scared” you said, clapping your hands together like a prayer had been answered(because it had).

“Dude, chill; I was just joking. Y/n knows I’d never overstep like that, bro” y/f/n said, holding out a hand in an attempt to dap your boyfriend up

“I’m not your ‘bro’ homeboy, watch how you step, it might be your last if you keep fucking with my girl like that” Miles said taking a step towards the person. They were almost equal height but Miles was slightly taller(6’2 yes ik its not canon and idc)

It seemed like they would fight right there in the hallway with the way Miles was staring at y/f/n and while y/f/n was a bit intimidated, they weren’t backing down. They were another one of your victims of over-flirtation but unlike the others, they were persistent and tried the friend angle in order to get to you but they didn’t sound on your boyfriend being jealous and possessive. Eventually, they walked away and Miles pulled you aside:

“Don’t fucking talk to them again, you understand ma?” Miles said

“I understand. I am so so sorry, they just came up to me and cornered me.” you explained with watery eyes

“It’s fine, ma. Don’t let it happen again, tu entiendes?” he said, grabbing your chin to look him in the eye

“Si, papi. Te amo” you said

The next few days were quiet. Miles stayed closer than usual to you, y/f/n stayed away but they stared at you constantly and smirked at you. It was one faithful Saturday that would change all of that in a flash.

Miles was away doing Prowler stuff and you were designing possible suit, mask and gauntlet combos when you heard a knock on your dorm. You opened the door and were shocked to see y/f/n:

“Hey, y/n. Can we talk?"

“Uhm I should wait for Miles. He’ll be back shortly” you lied. Prowler shit took four hours min because Miles would carry stuff out in bulk so he could spend more time with you

“We can talk without him right?” Y/f/n said, pushing into your dorm. Your dorm mate was away for the weekend, visiting her parents in nantucket.

“Oh. I guess” You said

“so what you drawing?’ they asked

“stuff” you giggled

“Fuck I love your laugh.” they smiled

“um thanks” you replied

“a pretty laugh for a pretty girl” they said, grabbing your chin and staring at your lips

“thanks. You caught me at a bad time, I’m just about to go shower” you said pushing their hand away

“Oh can I join, haha?” they joked

“hahaha.” you said, silently praying Miles was outside your window witnessing all of this and waiting to strike

“You know, I’ve had a huge crush on you since you first came here? You were genuinely sweet and kind and pretty. Miles doesn’t know how lucky he is to have someone like you” They confessed, closing the gap between y’all

“Yeah but I can tell he appreciates me. He never makes me feel uncomfortable” you said with a hint of venom

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” they asked, approaching your lips

“Yeah, very” you said trying to back away. At this point, you were praying for a miracle when all of a sudden, you hear a slashing noise and see blood on your floor

“I told you to stay away from her. I gave you a warning, this is on you homeboy”

“Who are you?” they spluttered out.

A mask opened up and suddenly he appeared

“I’m Miles Morales, but you You can call me the Prowler. Right, Amor?” Miles looked at you

“Right, baby. You said, kissing your man as the person in front of you, fades away.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Bittersweet 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc. 

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU 

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk. 

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you. 

Summary: Your startup business catches the eye of a powerful rival.

Character: Loki Laufeyson

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved. 

“So, the Green Bundle includes a Match truffle, chocolate mint smoothies, and green tea infused fudge,” you explain to the trio of women across from you. “The deluxe includes peppermint cocoa as well and comes in a this mug.” 

You present one of the few kits you have left in your inventory. As big a deal as getting a stall at the event was, you hadn’t expected the crowd. You’re overwhelmed, especially realising you’re the only stand with only a single body. 

“That’s so cute,” the taller brunette remarks, “what about the Pink kit? It says strawberry and creme?” 

“Ah, yes, that one sold out rather quickly today. I can offer a voucher for my online boutique or I can sell you a sampler box? It has the strawberry and creme as well as my more popular flavours.” 

“Do you do this all yourself?” The curly blonde asks as she eyes the chocolate dipped cherries. 

Another body crowds in, a tall men bending to peruse your hand-painted sign listing all your bundles and boxes. He pays you little mind as he eyes cling to the letters and he reaches to pluck up one of your cards. You return your attention to the blonde. 

“Yes, they’re all hand-crafted. The mugs as well but I don’t do those. I’ve a friend who makes those.” 

“The packaging is so pretty,” the first preens, “can I have a sampler then?” 

“Sure,” you answer, “I do the packaging as well. All the stickers, the bows I tie myself, and I decorate each box.” 

“Wow, that’s so cool,” the middle on remarks, “I’ll have a sampler as well and the green bundle.” 

“Sampler for me,” the third agrees. 

You go through the same process with each. You grab the product, put it in a bag, seal it with a sticker, and ring them through with a tap of their card. They all seem excited for their purchase and it’s contagious. It’s been a hectic day but you’re running low and you don’t think you’ll make it through to closing. Still, it’s good advertising. 

“Green tea fudge?” The tall man slithers towards the center of your counter, “an unusual combination.” 

“Yes, that one took a lot of experimenting.” 

“Mmm,” he still has your card in hand, bending it slightly as he flicks it with his thumb, “the red bundle. Cherry, red velvet, and...” he leans back to check the sign, “cayenne. Interesting.” 

“I try to make sure there’s variety in each,” you explain. 

“Yes, so it seems. I’ll take a red then.” 

“Sorry, sir, um, I’ve sold out of most. I still have the yellow, the black, and the green--” 

“Sold out?” He raises his wrist to give an emphatic glance at his watch, “either you’re very popular or ill-prepared.” 

You’re surprised by the accusation. He’s rather blunt. You’ve dealt with many different types today but they’ve all been relatively pleasant, after all, it’s hard to be in a bad mood at a Baking Show. 

“Fair, I wasn’t expecting so many buyers, sir. But you have my card, you’ll see my online boutique is listed--” 

“But I want to buy now,” he says as he tilts his head, dark brows rising just slightly. 

“I understand, I apologise for the inconvenience, but I just don’t have the red on-hand. I do have a sampler here--” You grab one of the variety boxes, “it would have the cayenne and the cherry.” 

“Do you think a one-person operation like this is sustainable?” He inquires sharply. 

You wince and shake your head, “sir? I’ve only just started. I’m sure with growth I’ll have to adjust.” 

“And do you have a business plan or is this some Etsy venture with no goals?” 

You nearly choke. You don’t know what you’ve done to offend him. 

“Well, sir, if you don’t want to buy, I do have free samples available. I don’t have any of the red flavours but I do have some banana peanut butter and salted caramel apple--” 

“I didn’t ask about samples,” he insists, “I’m asking about your business plan.” 

You bat your lashes and look around. Has he come to this event just to interrogate people over their bottom line? 

“I suppose it’s something I will have to review after today,” you contend. 

“I’d say,” he tucks your card into his jacket pocket, his hand lingering within as he pulls out a leather wallet, “if you have any questions...” 

He slides a card free and offers it. You take it hesitantly and read the gold font on matte black cardstock. Black Snake Chocolatier. You run your fingers over the embossed lettering and narrow your eyes. You peer over at the large banner over that business’ booth. He must be from over there but he’s not exactly dressed for the work. His suit is pressed and stainless. 

“I did sponsor that one,” he pulls your attention back, “but I’ve come down to take measure of my competition and possible... acquisitions.” 

You nod slowly as you meet his green eyes. Is this intimidation? 

“Loki Laufeyson,” he offers his hand as a glint of silver in his hair catches the light, “might I have your name?” 

You trade your name and a handshake. He squeezes enough for you to wince. He lets go and you slip his card in you apron pocket with all the others collected from your fellow vendors. 

“I’ll certainly take a sampler,” he says, “see if this little venture has any teeth.” 

His every word is like a bite. He speaks with the fangs of the very logo of his business. You put his purchase into your phone and offer the square for him to tap his payment. He processes it and swipes up the box before you can package it. 

“Do you want a bag?” You ask. 

“I can handle it,” he tucks the box under his arm. “Best of luck to you doing the same.” 

He glances around and slowly moves aside as a group of new customers set in. A family of five with three hollering children with grabby hands. Your eyes widen as you smile at them as best you can. This day has truly tested your social battery. 

[cowboybrunch]

writerly questionnaire tag!!!

finally getting around to this, thanks a million @the-golden-comet (here) @harmonic-melodii (here) and @fortunatetragedy (here) <3

About You

When did you start writing?

as soon as i could hold a pen. i have notebooks FULL of little me's stories (i keep everything ive ever written. for nostalgia.) it was mostly silly escapism for a lonely child but now it's sweet to look at and giggle. from when i was maybe eight? nine?: "Pain and fear, like a perfect recipe. Pain and fear, milk and eggs"

Are the genres/themes you enjoy reading different from the ones you write?

mmm probably. when i say ill read anything, i mean ill read ANYTHING. i dont think ill ever write a hockey romance but im down to clown

Is there an author (or just a fellow writer!) you want to emulate, or one to whom you’re often compared?

poetry-wise Bhanu Kapil has been a massive inspiration for me. also Kaveh Akbar and Ariana Reines (Mercury sits in a place of honor on my bookshelf). for novels? i feel like i emulate whatever i last read. Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver did horrible (affectionate) things to the way i write

Can you tell me a little about your writing space(s)? (Room, coffee shop, desk, etc.)

my office! my favorite place in the world!! cozy lights (that double as gamer lights), diet coke can graveyard, comfy office chair big enough for me to sit in a way that absolutely destroys my posture. sticky notes everywhere (a fun challenge! can i read my own handwriting?) AND!! i have an audience

What’s your most effective way to muster up some muse?

reading something else, talking to someone about whatever im stuck on, setting a timer and just dumping everything in my brain (something in there HAS to be worth pursuing)

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and places you write about?

HA!

Are there any recurring themes in your writing, and if so, do they surprise you at all?

overbearing parental figures that believe they're acting in the best interest of their kid... surprising when i realized that it's in almost everything i write characters that are good at heart but commit atrocities due to their circumstances... less surprising oh! and death. i write a lot about death (someone pointed this out recently and i was like huh. you right)

Your Characters

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character? (Current WIP, past WIP, never used, etc.)

Missy and Theodore staring at each other like

sorry! Theodore is my favorite!! he got here first!!!! he's my precious loser baby boy who HAPPENS to be the heir of death but he's trying his best! he's pathetic!! he's doomed!! but he means well! he doesn't want anyone to die alone! he wants to be good! he wants to be good soooo bad!! he hates rivers but loves the ocean!! he lies to everyone, including himself! he's simultaneously full of self-loathing and self-righteousness!! AND... he's bisexual!!

Which of your characters do you think you’d be friends with in real life?

i would kick it with Robbie for SURE. snarky little smarty pants that can't sit still for more than five minutes, we'd be peas

Which of your characters would you dislike the most if you met them?

*looks around nervously* ... Marcella (BOO!! TOMATO!!) im sensitive and she would be mean to me!! i feel like we'd warm up to each other eventually but not before she made me cry

Tell me about the process of coming up with of one, all, or any of your characters.

they just kinda... show up. and reveal more about themselves as i write them

Do you notice any recurring themes/traits among your characters?

ougffff. lots of anger in these parts. most of my characters are angry, esp the women. as they should be

How do you picture them? (As real people you imagined, as models/actors who exist in real life, as imaginary artwork, as artwork you made or commissioned, anime style, etc.)

depends on the character! for main guys, they get listed descriptions but i cant picture them in my head (thank you picrew). but others? they're like. blurry shadows moving through the story (do NOT ask me what Uriel looks like! i DONT KNOW!)

Your Writing

What’s your reason for writing?

words in brain make story in head. need story out of head so i can focus on literally anything else no but seriously. that quote that's like "the only thing worse than writing is not writing." it's like. a maintenance activity. if im feeling especially wound up it's probably because i havent written anything lately

Is there a specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating coming from your readers?

if you leave me ANY comment i am kissy you on the forehead. just knowing that someone read it let alone enjoyed it... waoh

How do you feel about your own writing? (Answer in whatever way you interpret this question.)

i am... trying very hard not to fall into self-deprecation here. i think there are things that i do well and things that i can improve on, but even if i write something and think it's "bad" i can still learn from it. all practice is good practice!!! (said through gritted teeth)

If you were the last person on earth and knew your writing would never be read by another human, would you still write?

yea! i would find comfort in it i think, same way i do now. have my little characters for company

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely what you enjoy? If it’s a mix of the two, which holds the most influence?

i am my own target audience. i am the conductor of the self-indulgence train but there's room aplenty if you wanna hop on

tag! @illarian-rambling @writingrosesonneptune @sarandipitywrites @mrbexwrites @mysticstarlightduck and a wide open tag if you havent done this yet. gimme a peek into your brain!!!

[imtooscaredforthis]

So Two Murderers Walk Into A Room…

Chapter Three: The Truth Isn’t So Bad

Mentions of: Murder, Homicidal Thoughts, Knives, Homicidal Tendencies, Mental Illness, etc.

A/N: I was super sleepy while editing this so please forgive grammar/spelling errors

Tags: @vandeaad @dead-bxxxtch-walking @moonshineinasippycup @stwbwwychan @mama-miya

He was right. You hate to admit when you’re wrong, but boy were you wrong. You truly are in some sort of fucked up dimension. And that entity thing, you saw it. After you sacrificed all those survivors. It was real.

In some strange way, you felt connected to it. Like it was controlling you. You shouldn’t want to be controlled. You never want to be controlled. But you like how you feel.

You get that familiar blissful feeling whenever you kill, but multiplied by ten. Right now, you feel amazing, the buzz and adrenaline running through your veins. You feel better than you’ve felt in a long time. Honestly, you wouldn’t mind doing this for eternity.

“Boo.” A voice suddenly whispered in your ear, making you shriek and turn on your heel, waving your knife around. A gloved hand caught your wrist, stopping you before you could do any damage.

It was that masked freak from before. He chuckled to himself lowly, and you could feel the smugness emanating from him. “Seems like I caught you red-handed, Sweetheart. You finally ready to confess?”

And just like that, your mood soured. Sweetheart. Who does this condescending prick think he is?

“Don’t call me that.” You hissed poisonously. “And I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“You don’t, but I’m sure I can get it out of you. You do have quite a bit of blood on you after all. Cute. So how many did you get? Two? Three?” He examined the knife in your hand, before releasing your wrist.

“Four, actually.” You corrected him, doing your best to stop your smile as you felt some sadistic pride grow in your chest. What are you doing? Why are you trying to please him?

“Ooooh, four. You got them all?” He asked. “Yeah, not like it was hard or anything. I was a district champion in track in High school, and I did gymnastics in college. So I have some extra skill when it comes to the hunt.”

You can’t help but find yourself getting sucked into this conversation with him. No one’s ever talked to you about murder before. It’s such a taboo subject, and yet, you’re here, talking to this man and treating it so casually. It’s so…freeing.

“See? Isn’t it nice being able to be yourself? Your true self? I knew you’d admit it eventually.” He remarked.

“Okay, you might’ve been right about some things, but not everything. Who are you, anyway?” You asked, realizing he never told you his name.

“Mmm, I go by a lot of things, but most people know me as Ghostface.” He said.

You repeated the name to yourself, before giggling. “You’re so weird.”

“Laugh all you want, but that name terrified anyone who heard it, especially those who read my name in the paper. The stories of what I did kept countless up at night, and I would’ve scared you too.” He stated in an irritated, almost threatening tone.

“Oh really?” You challenged him. “Yep. I’d have you changing your locks and everything. Maybe I’d even get you to move.”

“Well, you’re wrong, Ghostface. Because I’m not a pussy. I’m not scared of anything.” You replied, gesturing at him with your knife in hand, a big grin on your face.

He was oddly quiet for a moment and stood as still as a statue. Still, you could feel his eyes following your movement. Then, he spoke. “I have a feeling you and I are going to be good friends.”

Huh? Just when you thought you got under his skin, when you thought you finally deflated his huge ego, he bounced back immediately. Seems like you can’t push his buttons like he can push yours.

“Now, there’s lots for us to do. I need to show you around to the other realms and have you meet the other killers. That’ll be fun.” He remarked.

“Other killers?” You repeated. “Yeah, you didn’t think it was just us, did you? Now c’mon, let’s go.”

He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, leading you out of the woods.

–

It didn’t take long, just a little more walking before finding the other killers. There were around eleven, all grouped up together, waiting for another trial, you assumed. Many had more monster-like features, but others appeared to be human.

You weren’t afraid, but you were intimidated, and curious. Why did they look the way they did? Did they always look like that? Or did something change them? Do you look like that?

It’s been a while since you looked in a mirror, but you don’t think you do. You hope you don’t. One of the few things you pride yourself on is your looks. You’re beautiful. You know you are.

Not only is it nice to be pretty, but it’s good for sex, and it’s also easier to lure in your prey. That’s how you’ve killed and gotten away with your murders.

“Hey guys, welcome our newbie, _______! Isn’t she just the cutest?” He pushed you against him, before reaching up and squeezing your cheeks. Glaring at him, you smacked his hand away, slipping out of his grip.

Feeling all the attention on you, you glanced at the group, suddenly feeling shy. “Uh, hi.”

It’s strange, being around people and creatures that all now know your secret, even though you’ve spent your whole life hiding it. It’s even weirder knowing that they’re just like you.

Well, not just like you, but they obviously have to have some involvement with killing to be there.

“Well, hello there.” A lilac-haired man purred. He approached you quickly, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. You blinked at him, processing his actions.

Okay, now some guy dressed in what seems like a ringmaster’s outfit is hitting on you. Not that you minded. He was quite good looking after all, with a pretty face, and a toned upper body. Great abs too.

“Oh, where are my manners? I’m-”

“Fuck off, Trickster. She’s mine.” Ghostface interrupted, shoving him away. He said something to him, you weren’t sure what because it was in another language, but whatever it was didn’t sound nice.

You opened your mouth to object to Ghostface’s statement, but the next thing you knew he was ushering you away from the killers. “You’ll get to know them later. Let me show you around.”

[chirpins]

your vampire noah au has me hooked immediately, i had to come here and ask you questions after reading.

first things first, your half vampire tag. what exactly does that entail? it could mean anything. are there going to be other character's who are a vampire?

secondly, what are the other ships mentioned in the tags? are they going to be important enough to mention any time soon? or can we know them now.

thirdly, is this going to be based off of stakes? with its recent departure from the fandom, a lot of people are missing it. is there a reason you posted this when you did, so close to its deletion?

is fourthly a word?

fifthly, what does the soulmate tag mean? i've never seen it used in that way before.

sixthly (?), can you tell us anything about it? fun facts, i mean.

seventhly (i'm just winging it at this point), does noah being bitten on his ankle have any plot relevance to it? given that it wasn't on his neck?

that's all i can think of for now.

woaaah this is like .. one of the longest asks ive ever seen. sorry it took me so long to reply, i really had to think on how i would respond to this..!

well, lets start in order.. lets seeee..

mm i dont know if i can answer this in a way that isnt spoilery or holds plot relevance. sorry if that doesnt help ur curiosity, but rest assured it will be addressed in the fic itself so .. just stay tuned!

i dont see how it would be any spoilers to say this, so ill just come out and do so already! one of the main background ships is geoff/gwen/bridgette. they are just so cute to me, and id like to make it clear the three of them are all dating each other. there is also going to be eva/izzy, of course; and owen/izzy (izzy has two hands). another ship im entertaining the idea of is possibly duncan/dj? but neither of those two are going to have much relevance to the story. actually, funny story, this was supposed to be an alejandro/noah/heather fic, but i totally forgot to tag it as such. im debating on if i want to keep it that way afterall, or have it stay just alenoah.. i guess we'll see the further i write. there is some others but those are a bit spoilery so, stay tuned..!

uhh.. i feel like thats a very weird thing to ask? but, i guess you could say i was inspired after reading stakes? i began writing this last month (pictured below) so i wouldnt say i wrote and posted this just because stakes got deleted. actually, i wasnt going to post this fic at all until i had at least 5 chapters written for it, or all of it written, but i got too excited after finishing writing chapter 2 so.. teehee...

i THINK it is..!

teehee i cant saaay.. much. what i can say is it being 'non-typical' is important. its nothing like soul bounds themselves. how youd think of a soulmate 'au' is not what this is, nobody are soulmates. but .. well.. sooomething may happen. i will just say, it has something to do with vampire culture.

fun facts, huh..? mmm i really dont know.. tbh not even i think too deeply on this sort of thing.. i guess id say that noah has a lot of moles / freckles everywhere? so him having a bite mark wouldnt really raise suspicion, given that its just two puncture wounds. i dont know, im sorry! i guess ill have to think on this some more.. im sort of entertaining the idea that theres more to the universe than just vampires, if this helps. buut,.. i havent decided yet, teehee.

hmm, aside from me thinking itd be funny for him to have a mark on his leg? well... who knows!

anyway, thanks for caring so much to ask me stuff!

[mirror-is-distured]

Take it slow

Whump month day 2, collapse

Aether/rain/mountian

Tags: hurt/comfort, mountian has Vasovagal syncope syndrome (projecting? Whos projecting?), fainting

@cirrus-ghoulette

Sfw. Cut for length

"Come on! Catch up, were not that fast pebble!" Aether taunted mountian, holding the potted fern above his head. Him and rain had taken two of mountians prized plants from the greenhouse for what they had dubbed a 'joy ride' which was just them running through the halls of the abbey, teasing mountian about not being able to catch them.

"Fuck you both. Give me back my plants!" He screamed, lunging forward to tackle the smaller of the ghouls. Rain rounded the corner, just out of mountains reach. "You wish you could fuck me!!" He jeered, staring down at mountian, who was laying on the cold floor, scrambling to gather his feet underneath him. For whatever reason he couldn't seem to catch his breath, panting and clawing at the ground beneath him.

"Mount?" rain handed the pot of poppies off to aether, turning to step towards the struggling ghoul.

"I-im fine i just feel a little..." mountian fell face first, just barely saved from smashing his nose by rains hands.

"Shit, aether hes out again. Lets get him up to my room, its closer than the infirmary" rain reached around to pull the ghoul into his arms.

Mountian awoke in rains bed, the damp air filling his lungs with sea salt and lavender.

"Hey there big guy, how are ya feeling?" Mountain heard rains soft voice from somewhere beside him.

"Wah? What happened? Where am i?" Mountian sat up, looking around at the shades of blue around him muted by the sunlight billowing in through the tall window.

"Shh its ok bug, you're safe. You fainted in the hallway so i brought you up to my room. Aether went to grab you some juice"

Rain guided mountains head into his lap, gently pulling his fingers through the dark brown curls.

"Im really sorry for stealing your plants sweetheart. We had dew put them back in the greenhouse."

"S'ok.." mountian nuzzled against his thigh, flicking his tail behind him. "Jus dont do it again"

"I promise" rain leaned down to kiss his temple. Aether stepped though the doorway, holding a cup of orange juice and a.. sippy cup? "I uhh.. i didnt know if he would be able to hold a normal cup so i grabbed this one from the nursery.. just incase." He help out the cup, it was a pale shade of green, dotted with little mushrooms. Mountian grabbed it with a shakey hand, sitting up with his head against rains chest.

"Drink it, it will help" rain went back to petting mountians hair, gently massaging his scalp. The earth ghoul tried to bring the cup to his lips, but it fell onto the bed instead.

"Aaand thats why i gave you the sippy cup" aether giggled picking it up and handing it back to him. "Do you need me to hold it for you?"

Mountian nodded, grabbing aethers arm and pulling him down onto the edge of the bed. "You tell anyone about this and ill punch you" the growl comming from his chest was weak, but noticeable.

"Hey, calm down. Your safe, i wont tell anyone unless you say its ok. Now drink." Aether raised the cup to mountians lips. The ghoul took a small sip, he hadn't noticed how dry his mouth was.

"Good job hun, lets just take it slow for the rest of the day alright?" Rain kissed his forehead, running his fingers over the ridges of his horns. "Mmm.. i think thats a good idea"

[mizugucci]

hiii everyone im finally posting this after ignoring all my tags for two weeks lmao. i love these kind of games though its fun to look back, so thank you for tagging me:

@floweruna / @hongberries @gnanii @yangsminho and @honeydewtual

rules: link your favorite and/or most popular post from each month this year <3 (it’s totally fine to skip months!) and tag some CCs you love!

im sure most people have already done it, but ill tag some people just to say hi @taegyunie @ambivartence @awek-s @flops @strhwaberries @hwichanis

i added way too much commentary, so this will go under a readmore lmao. also i included ALL gifs including from my gg and fandom sideblogs, not just bgs.

january

favorite: obviously my favorite was my magazine/gif thing i made for kenta's birthday (6th year in a row, this year will be 7) unfortunately it doesnt load very well lol

most popular: these txt gifs (sugar rush ride) and taehyun+stickers

february

favorite: i cant deny i still think about this set of sebin during snuper's rain of mind era... the sparkles will always have a chokehold on me. ps check out my pixy wings set

most popular: this joshua set (for whatever reason lol)

march

favorite: i have several but im rly happy at how the wjsn + butterflies set turned out, its so nice. also my two harry june sets have a soft spot in my heart

most popular: this set of svt aju nice, its not a surprise that when i post svt it gets way more notes lol. i do like it a lot though

april

favorite: by FAR my fav (excluding macarena) is my loona as witches gifset. its one ofmy best im not gonna lie but also.... yuma sunshine...

most popular: actually i had a couple that were fairly popular but uh another joshua gifset has the most but ALSO this blitzers macarena post is nearing 200 notes??? i would consider that a fave too. and apparently tumblr loves big yuto/little yuto the same i do

may

favorite: i outdid myself in my dkz 9 to 5 set here. like idk how it ended up looking good but i love it sm.

most popular: ANOTHER joshua set??? im not even joshua biased. hes just so pretty LOL this is boring ill mention the 2nd most popular too. which is also another boring svt set. NEXT is big yuto/little yuto again <3

june

favorite: i made a gifset pretending fly me to the moon had a m/v and it flopped SO HARD i forget that i actually made it. also not to sneak this one but bitsaeon is SOOOO beautiful

most popular: campus crush junseo was my most popular this month, AS IT SHOULD BE. everyone should love that teddy bear

july

favorite: mmm two horror-adjacent gifsets!!! a set for dreamcatcher's chase me and an au that set kino (ptg) as a horror protag. lol it was so niche but i enjoyed it

most popular: omg i didnt think it would be but junghwan in the move m/v... as it SHOULD BE (again) i was let down a lot by trsr this year but this song kept me interested

august

favorite: mmm probably changsun in heartbeat. i LOVE that song and also it brought me back to 2017. nostalgia is.. very strong lol

most popular: im ignoring yet another joshua set. sorry josh but lets let others have a spot lmao. actually after that, a gifset of jaechan in his pre-release solo has the most notes. thats crazy!

september

favorite: my fav is OBVIOUSLY the set of snuper + sparkles. supposedly i was going to turn it into a series of boys+sparkles but we'll see.

most popular: its kind of funny, it seems like there arent a lot of ptg stans on tumblr but they always crawl out of the woodwork to rb my ptg stuff. i love u guys. and i miss yanan.

october

favorite: another installment in my women+horror series was my fav for this month. girlies gotta love vampires

most popular: i am SO glad. if it is any of my sets to be popular, i would never be disappointed if its omega x. they deserve the WORLD and ill personally give it to them. btw my pics with jaehan and taedong turned out soo well but i look AWFUL with sebin lmaooo

november

favorite: ahhh definitely anthonny in magic hour jacket behind. hes an ICON and i really liked him in bp

most popular: ohhh this was a surprise, i guess bc i only did 4 gifsets in november, but this seowon in wonderland m/v has the most notes. totally valid, hes beautiful

december

favorite: baby... yuma... sunshine loml obviously is my fav. hes sooo cute in that beret. and his smile. oh im gonna cry hes so cute LOOK AT MY SON!!!!!

most popular: i guess kpop has less of a reach on tumblr now because my one and only fandom post has the most notes lol. anyway if you havent seen a journey to love, you really should

a few thoughts:

well, its not a surprise that my most popular were seventeen and txt but it was interesting to see the variety of groups that i did gif besides them

peak time really had (has) a chokehold on me lmaoooo so many sets spawned from that show.

i also giffed more than i thought i had, so that was very neat to discover. although it was funny i posted 4 gifsets in the entirety of november

i talked so much and i apologize but thank you to anyone who even scrolled down this far, thanks for bearing with me!!

[middleearthpixie]

Promise Me ~ Chapter Twelve

Summary: Friends since childhood, Gabriella has long held back her feelings where Boromir is concerned, as she did not want to risk losing his friendship if he didn't feel the same. But, then he is summoned to Rivendell, and the night before he is to leave, he stuns Gabriella by confessing his feelings for her as well. 

But, war is coming and he cannot put off what he knows must be done. All Gabriella can do is wait for him and pray for his safe return. 

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings (AU, Boromir lives)

Pairing: Boromir x ofc Gabriella

Characters: Gabriella, Boromir, Aron

Warnings: none 

Rating: T

Word Count: 3.9k

Tag List: @sotwk @fizzyxcustard @evenstaredits @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @emmyspov @finnofamerica @lathalea @ass-deep-in-demons @quiall321 @mistofstars @justfollowtheroad @guardianofrivendell @glassgulls

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

Sunlight managed its way through the dusty windowpanes, hitting Boromir in the face to rouse him from sleep. He lay there for a long moment, the surroundings wholly unfamiliar. The bed was narrow, the room small and dingy, with heavy furnishings too big and dark for the space. A hint of a sour smell lingered in the air. Dust motes swirled in the faint beams of light that managed to make their way through those smudged panes.

Then he smiled. Firm breasts pressed into his back. A slender arm draped about his hips. The room was small and dingy and odd-smelling, but with Gabby curved up against him, it hardly mattered. 

Her fingers swept gently along his stomach and warm lips pressed into his back just above his shoulder blade. Then came another kiss. And another still.

“Mmm… this is a nice way to awaken,” he murmured. 

“You should not have stayed here,” she murmured back, snuggling closer, the fronts of her thighs firm against the backs of his. “If anyone should see you, they would surely talk.”

“Let them. You’ve agreed to marry me, Gabby. The worst that could come from any gossip? We push our wedding up sooner.” He carefully shifted to face her. “And that is not exactly a terrible thing, is it?”

“Well, no,” she tucked her hands beneath her cheek as she smiled at him, “but I’d rather not be gossiped about if I might help it.”

“I will silence any loose lips who dare speak ill of you.”

“That might grow complicated.”

“You are worth a bit of complication, love.” He smiled at the delicate flush that swept up into her cheeks and without thinking, added, “Have you any idea how beautiful you are, Gabriella?”

That flush deepened as she averted her gaze for a moment. “You have to say such things.”

“I say them because they are true and for no other reason.” He reached over to cup her cheek with one hand. “You are beautiful, and I’ve thought so since the first time I saw you.”

“When I was but thirteen?”

He thought back to that moment on the riverbanks, when he’d seen her for the first time, how the sight of her stopped him in his tracks and left him staring at her as if struck dumb, which, of course, he was.

At supper that night, he mentioned seeing a pretty girl down by the river and his father quickly disabused him of the notion of pursuing her. 

“Your duty is to Gondor first,” he’d said with a scowl, reaching for his goblet of mead with one hand, placing his other over the fork Faramir rapped against the table. “Enough with that, boy.”

Boromir glanced at his brother, then back to his father. “But you didn't see her, Father. She was… oh, there are no words…”

“You will not chase girls when you have far more important matters needing your attention. Lust fades. Passion dies. Gondor… that is all that matters. Our power. That all that matters.”

But, those words were hardly enough to deter him, and what began as the pursuit of youthful lust became a friendship he treasured more than any others. He’d waited nearly a quarter of a century for this moment, for her, and she had been worth every second of that wait.

“Ah, but I was only sixteen. And sixteen year old me thought thirteen year old you was beautiful.” He came up over her then, urging her onto her back. “And you are far more so now, you know.”

“I think you have kept this side hidden from me for far too long, Boromir. I’ve always thought of you as a warrior and not a poet, but now I wonder.”

He offered up a grin. “You’ve brought it out in me, I suppose.”

She reached up to brush his hair away from his forehead. “You are full of surprises, you know.”

“I have my moments.”

“That you do.” Her fingers lingered along his left eyebrow. “How did you get this scar?”

“That?” He brought his hand up to cover hers. “Faramir did it when we were younger. I was fifteen. He was ten and I was teaching him some of the basics of swordplay and he caught me with the pommel and split my head open.”

“Oh, that must’ve hurt something terrible.”

“It did. But, my father was convinced I was going to bleed to death and Faramir was punished far more harshly than he truly deserved.” He sighed softly, meeting her eyes once more. “I remember being terrified when Ioreth told me it needed to be sewn. I’d never had anything stitched up before that. But, I couldn’t say anything and couldn't possibly show any fear. My father would have never forgiven me.”

“Did that hurt as well? I’ve never had stitches.”

“It did, but getting hit hurt far worse.” He shifted back to where he’d been laying. “Although I’ve always felt I should apologize to Faramir, for I’m certain his being punished was infinitely worse than any of it.”

“I think it’s nice, how you have always looked out for him.” She settled against him, her head tucked against his chest, her arm draped about his hips, her breath warm across his skin. “I always wished I had a brother or sister. It could be quite lonely for me as a child.”

“Is that why you stole one of my father’s horses?”

She peered up at him. “I did not steal that horse, either and you know it. I was on my way to the river for a swim when I saw her there. Now, you need remember, I’d only ever seen horses from a distance, but always thought they were absolutely beautiful animals, so I admit to wanting a closer look. And if I could figure out how to climb up onto one, I might have tried to ride her.”

A hint of defiance crept into her voice, which made him smile. But just as quickly as he smiled, it faded. He’d given little thought to how she’d grown up, the daughter of a tavern owner, and how it compared to his own upbringing. His had been a comfortable childhood, if touched by sadness, but it was far easier than hers, he wagered. 

“Did you know how to ride?”

“No,” she confessed, the defiance replaced by sheepishness, “but that wouldn’t have stopped me. So, it was probably for the best that you happened upon us when you did.”

“Do you know how to ride now?”

She offered up a wicked grin that made his blood warm by a few degrees as she said, “Yes… but not horses.”

Every fiber in his body tightened with that low purr and that seductive smile and he couldn’t help but smile back, whispering, “Is that so?”

“It is, indeed.”

His breath became difficult to catch as she eased herself over him this time. She leaned in, her lips just brushing his as she whispered, “Shall I show you?”

“Oh, you most definitely should,” he managed to whisper back, reaching up to run his fingers through her hair, to draw it away from her face and gather the silky strands in his hands. He loved the way she felt against him, loved how perfect it seemed. He ached to touch her, to let his hands simply roam over her, to let his lips caress every bare inch of her creamy skin. Her lips found his, soft and gentle, and if she’d asked him to give her the moon at that moment, he’d have done everything in his power to rope it in and give it to her. 

He released her hair to wrap her in his arms, heat surging through him as her tongue caressed his. She came flush against him, the firm mounds of her breasts pressed so enticingly against his chest. Her skin was so soft, he couldn’t resist skimming his hands down along her back, up along the curve of her backside. Her breath hitched as he pulled her hard against him, and when he gently urged her onto her back, she slid her hands up along the back of his neck, into his hair, and it was her turn to grip and tug it.

A teasing zing swept across his scalp, which served only to fire his ardor hotter. Carefully, he rolled to pin her beneath him. He nudged his hips into the cradle of her thighs, a soft moan wafting to his lips as her heat met his, as her softness beckoned to him and teased him. No woman ever had the power over him that his Gabby had over him. And he would never cede his own power to any woman.

Except for her. 

He drew back, breathless as he gazed down at her. “I love you.”

Her smile twisted his insides in ways he’d never felt before, and her eyes swirled silver as she whispered back, “I love you, too.” 

He slid a hand along the curve of her inner thigh, smiling as her breath hitched and she caught her bottom lip between her teeth. His blood grew warmer still as his teasing caress brought an airy sigh to her lips. 

His fingers slid higher, drawn to that sensual heat. The slow, steady, deliciously dull ache of desire swirled through him, and his body responded as she trailed her fingernails down along his spine. 

“Boromir…” she whispered, her eyes heavy-lidded as her fingers curled about the back of his neck to tug him down to meet her kiss.

It took no urging and as their lips met, he reached to position himself—

“Gab? What are you—” The door banged open then, and the friendly call became a horrified, “Oh, no! I beg your pardon!”

He bit back an oath as he tried to twist to see who their intruder was and his healing stitches pulled, and he made to shift off Gabby, she tightened her grip on him. “Dory, I’ll be out in a moment, all right?”

“I am so sorry,” Dory’s voice grew fainter as she backed away from the doorway. “I didn’t know you had company.”

“It’s all right,” Gabby assured her even as he sagged against her with a muttered groan, letting his head come to rest in the curve of her neck. The irritation that flared in his gut at being interrupted at such an inopportune moment faded as she trailed her fingernails along either side of his spine. 

“There will other moments,” she whispered, drawing her fingernails back down to send another shiver through him. 

He couldn’t hold back his breathless sigh as she did it once more. “There had better be.”

“Why, Boromir,” she shifted to peer up at him, “do you doubt me?”

“Gab?”

He groaned, then eased off her. “Your friend is persistent.”

“She was a great comfort to me when I thought you were lost, so I cannot be angry with her.” She offered up an impish smile. “Even if she did interrupt a lovely moment.”

“Gab? Are you all right up there?”

“I’m fine, Dory!”

“Persistent.” He rolled onto his back, flinging one hand up above his head. Unspent desire still swirled through him, the ache of unfulfilled arousal dull but as persistent as the woman who had prevented him from fulfilling it. 

“Don’t be angry.”

He gazed up at her, at the way the light danced along those almost-white strands, the way it highlighted the delicate muscle of her back and shoulders. More than anything, he wanted to catch her about the waist and drag her back to him. Still, he smiled. “I’m not angry. Disappointed, perhaps, but not angry.”

She rose and the sight had him biting back a whimper, which became harder to do as she moved across the small room to a low chest of drawers. When she bent to tug open a lower drawer, he couldn’t hold it back, breathing, “Have mercy on me, love…”

“What?” She threw her hair over her shoulder as she turned to peer at him, then smiled. “Oh, I beg your pardon, I didn't think.”

“Vixen.”

She winked. She knew exactly what she did to him and it just made him want her even more. “Go,” he told her with a grin, “before I pull you right back into this bed.”

She slid into the tunic and trousers she’d pulled from the drawer, then leaned over to brush his lips with a gentle kiss. “You are a good sport, Boromir.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he told her as he sat up, “for you will make up for her untimely interruption.”

“And I will do so gladly.”

Another kiss and she left the room. He sank against the wall with a sigh. His wounds ached a bit more than they had the previous day, and he hoped it was no more than a bit too much activity. When he was certain Gabby was not about to come back up just yet, he carefully unwound the linen strip about his chest and gingerly peeled the bandage back. 

His medical knowledge was limited at best, but it certainly did not look as if it was infected to him. He returned the bandage to its proper position, rewrapped the linen, and then rose as quickly as the wounds in his thigh would allow. 

He dressed and left the room, following the sound of Gabby’s voice down the narrow hallway and around a bend into the small kitchen. There, he found Gabby and Dory, who looked somewhat familiar although he hadn’t known her name until just now, sitting at the small round table tucked into the far corner of the kitchen. 

“Good morning,” he said, biting back a smile as a hint of a blush showed up along Dory’s sharply angled cheekbones. Like Gabby, she was also blonde, although her hair was several shades darker than Gabby’s, her eyes were blue, and though they both sat, it was clear Dory was a good six inches taller than Gabby as well. 

Gabby’s eyes danced with mischief as she said, “Dory, you know Boromir, don’t you?”

She looked up and that color along her cheekbones deepened. “I am so terribly sorry I barged in on you that way.”

He held up a hand. “Worry not. It is forgotten.”

“By you, perhaps,” she said with a smile, “but I still feel like an utter fool.”

“You’ve no need to.” He turned to Gabby, who mouthed, thank you, and said, “And I should be heading back up to my own flat. I need to go check on Faramir and give my attention to a few other matters.”

She nodded as she rose and came around the table to slip her arm through his. “I’ll see you out.”

She walked him out to the small landing at the top of the staircase that led down the outside of the white stone tavern. As she turned to him, she squinted from the sunlight. “Thank you for not embarrassing her further.”

“Why would I do such a thing? It was unintentional and she had no cause to think I would be there.” He shrugged and grinned then. “Besides, all she saw was my bare ass, and that is not a treat for anyone.”

“I beg to differ,” she told him. “It is most definitely a treat to see,” her smile grew winsome, “as are your other parts.”

She was only teasing, but still, it was nice to hear. “Thank you, but I am not at all certain I’d agree.”

“I speak the truth and you know it, so do not think to try playing falsely modest.”

He leaned over and brushed her lips with his. “I will see you later, love. What time will you be open?”

“The tavern opens for half-six, but, I thought I would remain closed until after Denethor’s funeral.”

“No, there is no need for that.” He shook his head slowly. “In fact, it might be better if people had somewhere to come and forget about everything for a while.”

As he spoke, he turned to stare off in the direction of the Great Gate, taking in the destruction all around them. It was going to take some time to rebuild, but that would wait until after Denethor was laid to rest. 

“Are you certain? I don't mind—”

“I am, Gabby. Please, open as you would. I promise you, it’s all right.” He stepped back. “Now, I need to go pay call on Ioreth, who insists on checking my progress each morning, and then I need to check on Faramir and tend to Denethor’s funeral. And then, I’ll come find you.”

“Very well.” She still didn't look at all convinced, but nodded just the same. “I will see you later.”

He brushed her lips with one last kiss, and then turned to make his way down the narrow staircase to the cobbled street below. All around him, the sights and sounds of rebuilding echoed throughout Minas Tirith and he knew it wouldn’t be long before he’d be up to his eyes in dealing with contractors and merchants and their wares and problems. 

Still, the headaches would be worth it, once the city was returned to its former glory.

He glanced off toward the east, where Mount Doom stood, where he could only hope the remainder of the Fellowship were successful in their quest to destroy the Ring.

“Gabs, I am so sorry,” Dory repeated for probably the tenth time since Boromir left the flat. “If I’d known he was here, that you were about to—you know—I never would’ve just opened the door that way.”

“I know. And it’s quite all right, really.” Gabriella sank into her vacated chair and reached across the table to catch Dory’s hand. “Trust me. Neither one of us is angry at you.”

“But, I interrupted a very lovely moment, from the looks of it.”

“Well…yes, but there will be others. I promise you, there will be.”

“But I saw him naked.”

“Dory, give over. This is me and we both know that not only are you not sorry about that, so worry not about it, all right?”

Dory offered up a cheeky smile. “He is very cute, you know.”

“Dory!”

“What? He is. And you are very lucky.”

Gabriella couldn’t help but laugh. “He is and I know. And I mean not only because I’m the one he’s chosen, but because he is actually here. You have no idea, Dory, just how close he came to death. You’ve not seen his wounds, or heard what he did to make it back home. He came very close to dying, you know. And it is only through a generous fate that he survived.”

Dory sat back in her chair. “It was that serious, then?”

She nodded. “He took three arrows. One in the chest, two in the leg, and walked most of the way back from Amon Hen. He should have died back in that clearing and that he didn't is nothing short of a miracle.”

“And what did the wizard have to say about everything?”

“I know not. I think he’s left once more. And I might be mistaken, but I believe he had an elf and a dwarf with him when he took his leave.”

“What?”

She nodded. “I think so. But, I was at a distance when I saw them, so I might be mistaken.”

Dory sighed softly. “The war isn’t over yet, is it?”

“I don't think so,” Gabriella replied, her voice just as soft. “But I dare not say anything to Boromir, lest he think to rejoin those he’d been with. And I cannot let him do that. I cannot lose him again, you know.”

Dory reached across the table to grip her hand. “You won’t, Gab.”

“I hope not. I do not think I could stand it if that were to happen.” She traced a small circle across the tabletop, the very thought chilling her to her core. She had to hope that the hobbit who held the Ring managed to do what he’d set out to do. There was far too much at stake if he failed. 

Faramir was as still as he’d been the previous day and Boromir bit back a sigh as he stood over his brother. “Has he shown any improvement?”

Ioreth shook her head as she crossed to him. “There is no change, I’m afraid. He grows no worse, but he also grows no better.”

“I thought as much,” he replied, settling back. “Has Gandalf been in to see him?”

“The white wizard is no longer here,” she replied. “He and the halfling who’d been serving your father have left.”

“Left?” He sat up straight. “Left for where?”

She moved across the room, to the row of cupboards at the far end. “He did not say, but I overheard one of the Rohirrim mention something of Mordor.”

His gut kinked sharply. “What?”

She nodded. “They rode out this morning. Not too long ago, actually.”

“And no one thought to tell me? That I should know?”

“My lord, you are in no condition to go with them, and I imagine they thought your first response would be to insist on going with them, considering they came to me to see if I would allow it, which, of course, I would not.”

His thigh twinged then, reminding him that he was in no shape to even attempt to climb up into a saddle, never mind actually do battle. “It would be, but my fool body would soon let me know the error of such thought.”

Ioreth’s forehead furrowed. “Do your wounds pain you?”

“A bit, yes.”

“Worse than yesterday?”

“I cannot tell. They seem to, from time to time.”

Her expression grew serious. “Let’s take look.”

He sighed, but knew it was pointless to argue, and so he followed her out of Faramir’s room and down a short hallway to the one where he’d spent his first night back in Minas Tirith. 

Once the door was closed behind Ioreth, Boromir reached for the lacings of his tunic and pulled them free. The gray-blue cotton parted and without hesitation, Ioreth said, “You’ll need to remove it, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“I had the feeling you were going to say that.” He carefully drew it over his head, and carelessly tossed it into the chair behind him. 

She moved closer, and he gritted his teeth as she unwound the linen and peeled back the bandage. She frowned as she prodded. He managed to remain still, despite the poking and prodding, but then—

“Mercy, Ioreth,” he growled as a sharp heat tore through him and every hair on his body stood on end. 

“Did that hurt?”

He nodded. “It did, yes.”

“I’m afraid I might have missed some debris in this wound.” Her eyes flicked up to meet his and her fingers skimmed just below the wound in his chest. “We should open it and flush it once more.”

The very thought made his gut curdle. “Must we?”

“Yes.”

A cold sweat prickled along his spine. “If you think it best.”

“I will make it as pain-free as possible,” she assured him, urging him to sit in the very chair where he’d tossed his tunic. 

He swallowed hard and let her push him down into the chair. He tried not to think about what she was going to do, even as he watched her gather her supplies to bring them over. Instead, he closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and braced himself as Ioreth set to work. 

[zionmantis]

I would love to hear about how the DE speaks to your experiences with psychosis!

DE seems to be an attempt to represent thinking through game/story mechanics, and I really appreciate that it doesn’t seem to just represent “normal” thought but also neurodivergent or dysfunctional thoughts. Made me feel seen, so I’d love to hear how it made you feel, if it’s something you’d want to share!

Ah, thanks for the ask! I hope my tags on your post didn't seem rude; reading back I was so worried they did <3 You made an absolutely wonderful post; I wouldn't have reblogged it if I didn't love it. I'm ADHD too, and it's so great to see a character we can relate with and to see how positive reinforcement from a person like Kim can really make a difference.

Excuse me while I ramble a bit! This is stuff I want to post about all the time but I worry people will hate it, so questions like this really make me happy because it gives me an excuse x)

One of the reasons I adore this game more than any other is that it's both breathtakingly sad as well as absolutely hysterical, and humor is how I've started approached my issues of mental illness in the past. Now, that way is not for everyone; some people don't want any sort of laughter at it, and that's completely valid and makes perfect sense, but humor is just how I've been able to adjust to memories of really bad times in my life without completely hating myself. For me, the game does a really good job of making a hard subject funny without making it seem like we're laughing AT Harry, if that makes sense, even if we think some of his antics are hilarious. I also love love love that that humor is also tackling the, mmm, less "romantic" (?I'm not sure that's the word I want to use for this...maybe "palatable"?) issues that can come with severe mental illness. Like if I remember right, there's a nonstandard ending where Harry can end up living under a bridge and throwing his own shit at people who pass by, pff.

For me it was a surprise to come into this fandom and find that not everyone sees what he's going through as being psychosis (same with ADHD; he absolutely has that, at least to me). I've seen a couple people -- I think it was on Reddit -- argue that what Harry experiences is not psychosis and is just a manifestation of his thought processes and impulsive behavior, and for me that is just...wild xD (and I know I'm preaching to the choir here, but it's fun to discuss, I think?)

But here's the deal for me: if someone sticks their thumb up their ass in public because their friend dared them to and they think it will be funny, that's impulsive behavior. If someone sticks their thumb up their ass in public because a voice in their head told them it would make them a better detective, that's a delusion.

So what does that have to do with me? Well, for me, I have a rare diagnosis of OCD with psychotic features, and (gonna put the rest of this under a cut in case it's triggering for people to read about psychotic episodes)

mine, before being involuntarily (but needed at the time) hospitalized twice and properly medicated, tended to be things like...I would think my limbs were detaching themselves from my body, or one time I wouldn't open my eyes for literally almost two days because I thought all sharp-cornered objects would cut them. Hallucinations would involve seeing what I thought was my skin being pulled as my limbs detached and occasional auditory hallucinations of crowds in my head (where I'd then think they were trying to tell me something Important and drive myself crazy sitting and listening to unreal crowd burble noises), but none of the stuff fiction likes to show because it's easier to depict (never had voices in my head telling me to do stuff or saw a super clear hallucination of a person or monster unless you count sleep paralysis. There were occasional shadows and vague faces that move in walls which I still get when I'm extra tired, but the only times I ever thought those things were real was when my brain was telling me I was receiving otherworldly messages.) There were other things, too, behavioral stuff I'd rather not talk about because it's still so shameful for me.

I thankfully respond really well to medication, which is especially good since OCD with psychosis is notoriously hard to treat since the types of drugs for OCD vs. psychosis seem to do the exact opposite things and block one another.

Anyway, back to DE. This is a bit...shallow, but it was extremely refreshing to play a game where the main character is at least as big of a disaster as me, if not worse xD;. I FEEL SO SEEN, haha, and not only that, but it's a protagonist in an extremely popular game, and fans like him anyway??? That's fantastic. I never thought I'd see the day.

Now, why does he have psychosis -- as in what diagnosis? I'm not sure, but I don't think it'd be OCD with psychotic features like me (even if he potentially has OCD, which I'll discuss in a moment.) I'd say he probably has bipolar 1 and/or (since not unusual to be comorbid), schizophrenia, though I lean more toward bipolar 1 even though the game itself says the word "schizophrenia" out loud a couple times. (To be clear, I'm not a mental health professional, but I don't think the writers of DE are, either. I would also like to say that if anyone reading this is schizophrenic and feel that Harry is as well, your opinion is way more valid than my own and I'd love to hear from you.)

I lean toward bipolar 1 because of the obvious -- he's gone through both manic and depressive stages in the past and does so in the game with a ton of delusional thinking combined with (short-lived or skin-deep) inflated sense of self (Superstar Cop, Honor Cop, etc.) It's also well known that folks with bipolar tend to self medicate. It's less well known that bipolar often has psychotic features as well.

As for an argument for schizophrenia, I'd point toward Apocalypse Cop, that paranoid delusion (??? mmaaaaybe, haha,) about the world ending (I really only know about paranoid schizophrenia; I don't know much about the other types, so it's entirely possible Harry has one of those instead,) as well as his lack of awareness about hygiene, though that could maybe be explained by his amnesia and the fact he was on a days-long bender before the game started. The reason I'm a little bit hesitant toward it is because Harry seems too aware of his own problems and the fact that he is not experiencing life the way most other people do, (he actually questions Kim at the beginning if Kim also hears voices,) and the couple people I met in the hospital that had schizophrenia were (when still adjusting to medications or had yet to find something that would work for them,) really unable to have that kind of self-awareness.

As for the OCD, I'm not as sure of that for him like I am with ADHD and either his bipolar and/or schizophrenia, but I think there's some pretty good arguments to be made. To me, Harry's constant harping on things that no one else thinks is interesting or important is a factor of his ADHD but can *feel* like OCD, but more so when he is stuck in verbal loops, which could definitely actually be OCD rather than, say, brain damage, since he seems to be aware that he's doing it. Some of the more bullying Skills also feel SO much like OCD, the ones telling him to do things that are nonsensical and that he doesn't actually seem to want to do feels like -- just for one of my many, many non-hallucinatory, fully OCD moments in my life -- when I just had to put a lit match in my mouth because if I didn't, *everyone I love would die,* pff. (Spoiler alert: it burns and it tastes weird.) Actually, I'm just now realizing why Authority may have been one of my least favorite Skills, as funny as its situations could get (ICE COP HAT FUCK SHOW?!??!?)

Anyway, I'm sorry for such a long answer to your question, @linisiane, but it made me so happy you asked! I really appreciate your question. This game is so good for making most people with any kind of neurodivergence feel good. I think it might be the most important fictional thing (for my own well-being) I've ever found. There's so much you can say about it. In fact, I know I've forgotten some stuff I wanted to talk about, but oh well! I can always add or something later if I feel like it. If anyone has any questions about this, you're very free to ask me. I'm also super excited to start talking to more people in the DE fandom; I have yet to convince any of my friends to play it for more than ten minutes.

I love y'all so much! I mean it. This fandom is great.

[stonyponyofficial]

i was tagged by @cyber--grrl to list ten songs with food and or beverage in the title. thanks fer the tag :3

ill also rate how yummy each song is for fun! 😋

1. dog food - 100 gecs: mm yummy girlkibble just for me ^w^ also very yummy song. the beginning gives me goosebumps every time, and the ending vocal noise feels very eating kibblecore.... u agree right? umm 8/10

2. Chocolate Matter - Sweet Trip: if there were something out there generically called like "chocolate flavored matter" i think id eat it. also DELICIOUS song lots of variety and good texture here 9/10

3. Cream Soda no Yuutsu - ......... : ill admit im not much of a cream soda fanatic. nothing against it in fact it sounds quite yummy at the moment i just don't really have it ever. similar feelings about the song. good i just haven't listened to it much.. feels like im on a cream soda beach being soaked in the waves 7/10

4. Lean Beef Patty - JPEGMAFIA, Danny Brown: mmm yumm yummy yummy scaring the hoes for dinner AGAIN fuck yesss 🥰😻 however just a patty? in a state of being .. maybe cooked? could just be raw meat on a plate. hmmmm. while the song would be near perfect yumminess on my Violet Yumminess Scale the title brings it down a lot... ill say 6/10

5. honeydew blue - 800 Cherries: oooh double fruits on this one :3c melons besides the famous wawermelon aren't really my go-to fruit snack but id have a little if u were having some o_o and like u were making it look really good idk... oh and id have a few of those 800 cherries u have too even tho i said i didn't really like those too... also the song is what i hear when im full from a nice fruit meal. and the triannnggllleeee 😩 chews on it. it is metal. i was gonna give this song an 8 but me not liking honeydew that much should not bring it down this song is a 9/10 yumminess

6. Fresh Meat - Diet Tea Other Cola: yet again we run into the clash between song and title yumminess. fresh meat: the song's yumminess comes from dtoc's slick lyrics and how they mix like backing screams into these songs with little midi beats? i think they're an interesting artist but thats for another time. fresh meat: the food however? would maybe not be as yummy i think. 4/10 bleh!

7. Princess Lunas Glorious Grilled Cheese Sandwiches - Cats Millionaire: i would do unspeakable things to a grilled cheese rn. especially if it was one of princess lunas 😳.... isn't my favorite off fun fun fun but is still yummy in its own right! 7/10

8. Hotel Breakfast - Bladee: listen if there's a whole buffet of shitty breakfast food im there. and if there's a bladee song about it im also there. wait he missed the hotel breakfast bc he slept too late? rookie mistake. 6/10 for missing it lol

9. Stir Fry - Migos: mmmmmm im just making myself hungry now. personally id fuck up some stir fry. chunky ass noodles. little corn. shit. and this Migos song? yummy enough to back it up 8/10

10. Piggy Pie - Insane Clown Posse: hmmmm if we're talking like a pork pot pie from the freezer section yeah sure yummy as hell. however im not sure about these fellas food handling credentials or their ingredients..... song is very crunchy and record scratchy and yummy however so to balance all this. a 7/10 yumminess :3

okay here is where i use my summoning spells.... in case anyone would like to show off their yummy songs as well ^w^ u don't have to rate them that was just for me hehe.... u don't even have to make a post we can just think about yummy songs together instead! ummm okay here i goes @numetalpuppygirl @metroid-fusion @transgirlmononoke @malicious-face @toriel-vapes @a-little-bit-poss SHAZOOO spell of increase ur notification number by one

and as always thanks for w

and as always anyone can lie and say i tagged them if they wanna do yummy song game!

[yomiurinikei]

You know which character I want to send for meme but yeah it is obvious can I get Kinji in that meme template?

ah yes, so obvious, we all know ur favorite character is kinji hakar1 (dont wanna invade tags akdsjksd), who everyone associates u with, and totally isn't just the first fictional kinji that popped up when i googled the name.

my identity hc for them

GAY gay homosexual gay. sorry kiyoka calling him out just. i cant view him as anything else. i do think there's canonical backing for this, not specifically him being exclusively into guys, but for him liking guys in general, i think its canon supported. i also Just Like it.

i think he's like. amab, but i think he just doesnt really Get It/feel any particular way- he's comfortable with how he presents and is perceived the way he is, and doesn't really feel a desire to change! he's content, and i don't think he'd be any happier if he changed how he performs gender. and seeing as i want this boy to do some soul searching and examine his relationship with faith, ill let him have a constant in his life. just this once

Thoughts on their home life/family

aaaaa.... i think like. mentioned this in the hcs i wrote for him recently, but i think his dad (the bishop) was a genuinely good person, and a good dad! i just think like..... it would've been cool if after being adopted and coming to italy, he had more than one role model and like. god. i dunno i think that mayyyybe having the person who chose him, who chose to take care of him, be a well-respected bishop who wound up living a secular life and etc etc mightve maybe impacted kinjis path in life. i don't think he was forced into anything, but i do wonder the degree to which kinjis faith started as a way of feeling connected to his dad and feeling that he was part of a community.

anyways though. i think he was a happy child, well cared for, etc. but i feel like maybe someone should have forced him to go outside and make friends, or stopped to question why he might be throwing himself into religious studies so much, or, after all that. maybe. i dont know. NOT SENT HIM TO JAPAN BY HIMSELF AS A MIDDLE SCHOOLER? ??????

its kinda a miracle hes as stable as he is. and while i don't think he's... literally traumatized, i feel like there was some side effects of his childhood past "oh he doesn't Understand friends". honestly a vv interesting example of how childhood and environment shapes people.

anyways though. i wouldn't be surprised if his focus on orphanages/caring for kids stemmed from him being a like... pre-teen/younger, and his brain just naturally orienting towards "wanna be with peers, wanna play, wanna form social bonds", but he had already placed himself in the role of an adult, and so he took on the same place as the priests he was trying to emulate. its kinda silly why did literally everyone go like. well if everyone else is treating him as an adult i guess i will too... kinji is the poster child for "was called mature as a kid"

How i feel about their canonical writing/handling

mmm... its objectively Good. i just feel like.... kinji kinda falls into the issue of so many characters to explore, so little time? like. we don't really get to see a whole lot of the depth that i see (linuj may not get him the way i do), and it makes sense, but it still kinda sucks... it'd be nice if he survived and made it to the end (and then held hands with tsurugi i mean-) buuut. i understand why he didn't. :(

tho one thing i wanna note is. linuj originally intended for his ch3 meltdown to be his true personality of sorts. and was gonna have his motivation just be that he liked murder. and he acknowledges that how he acts in ch3 isn't kinjis normal personality, and that he likes having a actual motive better than his old plan for kinji. but i feeeel like linujs old plan kinda pokes through at times with how kinji is handled? specifically like.. tsurugis response of "woah i didnt know a priest would act like that"- tbf, that does reflect on tsurugis black and white thinking and how he struggles to remedy his values. but also it just kinda feels like linuj is still treating it as a shock value twist that kinji is Just Like That, despite textually saying otherwise. that kinda sucks

The one thing i’d want to make canon about them

im not fucking joking im trying to think of something else. i would like canon gay kinji. again we have NO TIME FOR THIS. but if he had survived, i think that could be something nice to write in + subtextually show. i wont ask for the complete and utter tone shifts that would have to happen for more than subtext to be real. but. i think it'd be a good thing to do w/kinji if he had more time with us.

also i think it'd be neat to hear more about kinjis bio parents, just because im curious? but ya know. i kinda dont trust linuj and can just be weird about why he still uses uehara as his family name in my head, and have that be canon to me, instead of having to ignore linuj, so.. im content

My number one favorite ship for them

tsuhara. nobody look at me.... i promise i will post my thoughts on them one day. currently im trying to handle all myyy.. non-spring quarter graduation requirements (aka, some stuff my hs wants me to get done other than the classes im taking this quarter), so thats kinda my goal for april. and then may will have midterms and then ill be working on finals ughhhh... so im not really dedicating time to it. but its like... the only canon sdra fan content im working on rn? its. its in the works and its on my schedule and it wont take long. its just a matter of when i can get around to it, so i wanna explain why im not prioritizing it akjdjskjdjsdk.

anyways. im so not normal about them and ive been not normal about them for the past ninety three years. my beloved boys with their moral beliefs and their systems of justifying their actions and and and. aaaaaa.....

…Now everyone else i ship with them

uhhhhhhm. i think his ftes were cute? hm. i think there's stuff i objectively like, like... i think it'd be nice for him and would be cute. but there's nothing im really Passionate about/see myself spinning around in my head. for ex like.. i go out of my way to think about tsuhara. theyre just in my brain sometimes. but whereas like... i was uekoba posting a few days back- that was vv nice and fun! but i wouldnt have really talked about my thoughts on kinji and haru if it wasn't for outside prompting, if that makes sense.

u all will never escape my tsuhara posting. kinji canonically got tsurugi to change both in and out of the killing game. he is the one who looked at tsurugi and did not think "oh i can fix him" but simply by existing!! fixed him!!!! aaaaa!!!!! aaaaa.

The thing i will NEVER ship

hm. hmmm. i think ive chatted about them before. ive indulged. but im honestly not a huge fan of kakeru/kinji/kanata? it feels v much so to me like.. just pairing off whoevers there. i could get behind kakeru/kinji if i saw a good argument for it. i think they could be fun i a "everything goes wrong" (aka, every murder plot fails) au, but like. yeah. and then with kanata and kinji. i just dont see the vision

also i did not want to say it. but uehiga because i dont. get. it..... this delves more into mitch's writing and i dont want to talk about him on kinjis ask. but i do not understand it. it feels to me just like when people were shipping mitch and haru but repackaged. im never going to see the vision of mitch getting fixed by his having a crush on one of his male classmates.

a dynamic/relationship i wish was explored more (in canon, or in fandom)

kinda stems from beta. but i think he and mikako could be fun. spiritual buddies!!!! it could be a nice learning experience for them both. also maybe the gamblers ornament crew? that could be fun thats a friendly group of people (and also utsuro is there too/j). i just want kinji to have friends man.

thoughts on their design (appearance-wise)

mmm.. something about it is off. i dont know. it could be the linework the silhouette i dont. knowww? it just. feels blocky or bulky or something. its plain but it works for a priest and it makes sense. i like his hair color and eye color and etc etc theres just Something about his design that feels off to me if i look at it for too long

also. i dont think this is a issue anymore? but he wears a stole. thats what he's wearing. its not a scarf. (also. i still want to tie it into a bow.)

A music-related thought- a song that reminds me of them, or what their music taste is, etc

not even gonna lie i thought i had some sort of song on one of my spotify playlists that would work. wtf.

hmmmm. mercy, by sir chloe, kinda gives me like. kinji ch3 vibes. not really though why is this so evil. every song i see just winds up making me think of a different character.

okay. ive just been sitting down working on this post since i posted the rei one tbh. so. i think that no matter where u hc kinji ends up after evaluating his relationship with faith (personally i think his beliefs stay the same, he never really looses her faith, moreso what changes is his relationship with the church), he likes hearing hymns. i think harmonies and 'pretty' voices is just something he'll always appreciate in music.

[godza]

i have been tagged in this a few times but its okay because it makes me feel loved ^_^ love u aya and everybody else who tagged me so im doing it again 💕 and some answers have changed

relationship status: stares at you with big wet eyes

fave color: green but ive been liking burgundy or a nice berry red lately

last song listened to:

i dont know what the fuck the name of this song is i cant read it. but its music.

i think one of the versions had song stuck jn your head so ill tell you its the bk whopper song. makes me think of akarsha every time

3 fave foods: meaty pasta but ive liked it a little less lately, ramen mmm ramen, and kraft/annies mac and cheese

last thing i googled: seals because i forgot what their hind flippers looked like. i was comparing manatees to them but not even close

dream trip: la with my buds. i need to go see that one real pretty cafe and go to the maid cafe there

anything i want rn: to go night nights peacefully and feel prepared for tomorrow to hang out w my buds, for my arm to stop hurting, more neocities followers, and for pms and my period to go away completely forever

tagging everybody ever again i do not know whos been tagged

[phantomato]

Smut4Smut 2023: And At First Meeting Loved

AO3

My Mysterious Mademoiselle, Uncle George/George Jr., 8k, Explicit

Tags: Victorian, POV First Person, Explicit Sexual Content, Crossdressing, Oral Sex, Anal, Fingering, Anal Sex, Uncle/Nephew Incest, Incest, Romance, From Sex to Love

A holiday at Deauville with a beautiful wife.

Second time writing for MMM! I definitely need to give it a break for a while, but it’s a great canon. Meta ramblings about the fic below the cut.

The title is taken from Abraham Solomon’s paintings of a first-class Victorian train coach. There’s two versions, because the first was so controversial for showing an unchaperoned lady talking to a strange man. It’s a very apt comparison point for George and George Jr., who, after all, meet when Jr. is pretending to be an unchaperoned young lady on the train!

Sleeping Chaperone

The revision

I adore the title of these paintings. “And at first meeting loved.” That’s the feeling I get from the original short story, George Jr. disguising himself to get a measure of this unmet foreign uncle and finding himself helplessly infatuated from the start. It’s why this ship appeals to me so much!

I’m not particularly predisposed to incest ships. They’re fine, just not usually what grabs my attention. However, I love reunions as a trope: characters who have never met but have some existing relationship, or who haven’t seen each other in many years, coming back together and falling in love is my thing. An incest ship can grab me if, like this one, it offers a chance at a reunion. Georges Vane are indelibly family, through a sister/mother, and so their meeting in My Mysterious Mademoiselle lands to me like a reunion rather than a first encounter. They ultimately bond over their love of this shared family member. Young George being struck by how caring, and protective his uncle turns out to be is a wonderful opening to believe that he might develop a fancy—and it helps that Uncle George isn’t shy about describing himself as handsome and romantically successful. The story is so light (frothy!) that the age gap and incestuous nature of the pairing don’t feel like heavy topics that one must address in order to have a serious focus on the romance of the ship. At least to me, I should disclaim.

I think there is a version of this ship which kinks more readily on the uncle/nephew part or the age gap. I mean only that, as those aren’t my kinks, this is a canon which makes it shockingly easy to focus on other kinks. Quite probably that’s because of the crossdressing, which can amply fill any space you give it. George Jr. wears a dress like nobody else, and I was so glad that @sheeon requested “receiving a blowjob while wearing a dress” as a kink. My god. Yes, of course. A natural pairing. But I also gave Jr. a frilly little nightgown, and obviously he had to have stays, and a bustle, and a shawl and a wig. Crossdressing is a kink that I love, and more than that, historical dress is another one of my hobbies. George Jr. is just so happy to be subversive in everything that he touches that as an author, I can show that subversion through crossdressing and (in)appropriate public behavior rather than things I might prefer less.

So when it comes to the relationship dynamic between the two Georges, my interests lie in the tension between practical, stolid, English Uncle George and romantic, impetuous, French George Jr. They adore one another. Their fondness shines off of the page. I do what I can to capture that in my own writing, and I think I’ve mostly been successful, but it is fully to the credit of the original. George Jr. would legally become Mlle. Georgette and marry her Uncle in an instant, but Uncle George can’t reconcile a solution like that with the damage he feels it would do to George Jr.’s life: his social prospects, his career, his ability to move through the world freely. The first time I wrote them, George Jr. was younger, his mother had died from her illness, and Uncle George’s focus was on getting his nephew through school and resisting the come-ons entirely. That was a lot of fun, but I didn’t want to repeat the “First Time” trope again—it’s a natural thought for the ship, just not something I wanted to belabor in such quick succession. Taking on an established casual-sex relationship and asking how it would transition to full romantic commitment was much harder. In the first story, romance and sex can happen together! In this, I needed to build up Uncle George’s doubt that anything between them had a chance at lasting so as to motivate why someone who had already been fucking his nephew for years might balk at the comparatively-small hurdle of professed romantic commitment.

As I type that, I wonder if I’ve written the dreaded miscommunication plot. Not quite, I think; they never had communicated about this in straightforward terms, as Uncle George refused it and George Jr. most likely tried to sneak it in the back (lol).

Some other things I love in this ship:

George Jr.’s independence! I can never make him sexually monogamous before he has a romantic commitment from his uncle. It’s a key part of what makes this relationship feel relatively equitable to me, despite the age gap—the younger George isn’t discovering either sex or romance purely through this relationship. He won’t sit around and pine idly. He pines quite actively while fucking other men! And nonetheless, he is petty and jealous about all of Uncle George’s other partners. <3

The romance! These two are so romantic. They just adore one another with Big Feelings about every single thing the other does, whether that manifests as dramatic sulks or late-night mooning over one’s nephew’s pretty face or soppy declarations after making love. I’m into shipping to feel giddy about how much two characters love each other, and that really fits the tone of this canon.