#seems a little weird to post all of these while only posting a fraction of them on tumblr ..

[heartbytez]

at the start of every year i like to draw out all the eyes of me and my partner’s ocs, and also draw all of our pairings holding hands. it’s really relaxing but very time consuming :)

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

⋆⭒˚.⋆ I like(?) Haechan ⋆⭒˚.⋆

summary: you and Haechan are too close and Jaehyun finally admits that he’s just a tiny bit jealous

(cw: f!reader, cursing, alcohol consumption, relationship insecurities)

Fratboy!Jaehyun never in his life ever thought that there would even be the fraction of a chance that there would ever be the possibility that he would ever- not in this life, or the next, or even his past lives- that he would EVER be jealous of Lee Haechan. But as he stood in Haechan's doorway, staring at his girlfriend, his fucking sweetheart in Haechan's bed, he started to think that the green eyed monster had finally successfully possessed him.

It hadn't started off like this and he can admit that this situation he's glaring at half asleep is all his fault, but there are events that led up to this envious possession.

The first time he had felt a little weird about you and Haechan was the first time you came over as his official girlfriend and immediately came in to hug Haechan before you even hugged Jaehyun, you know, your boyfriend. You had a bright, excited smile as you ran right past Taeyong, who had so kindly answered the door, and pulled Haechan into your embrace. Jaehyun shook it off because as soon as you were done with Haechan you were in Jaehyun's lap covering his face with kisses.

Then there was a party that had gone on far too long. Yes, Jaehyun is proud, they partied until like 5 in the morning, like, fuck, come on! That was a frat record! And sure yes, Jaehyun had been a little drunk (very drunk) (totally Johnny's fault) when he looked over and saw you, all buzzed and tired and cuddly on the couch, tilting over sleepily until your head was resting on Haechan's shoulder. Haechan didn't flinch, didn't act surprised, simply laid his head on top of yours and fell asleep too.

Then it just seemed to be a lot of little instances that jumped out in Jaehyun's mind now at 2 in the morning. Now, he's starting to hate the way that Haechan only posts a story for Jaehyun's birthday, but you get a post on the grid and multiple stories throughout the year? Jaehyun hates the way that you and Haechan have inside jokes and refuse to explain them to him.

And right now he fucking abhors that you are sleeping in Haechan's bed! Like ok, yes, Jaehyun did take a couple gummy melatonin vitamins so he was sleeping extra deeply, and yes, he did accidentally kick you off the bed shortly after he accidentally elbowed you in the nose, but did you have to go to Haechan's room? Well, not only that but also sleep in his bed-- with him there?!

Jaehyun trudged over to the bed and begins to shake you like there's a fire in the house and you need to wake up now! You wake up with a gasp, eyes flying open while you look around for the disaster. Instead, you find Jaehyun standing there with a frown on his face and his arms crossed.

"What's happening?" You ask in that cute, groggy voice of yours.

"You're not in my bed."

"Baby," you sigh, laying down again, "you elbowed me in the nose and kicked me off the bed. I'm tired and I want to sleep."

"You're sleeping with Haechan."

"I'm sleeping next to him. He runs hot and I have my warm pajamas on tonight."

Jaehyun hates that you know Haechan runs hot when he sleeps. Jaehyun groans under his breath and tugs on your hand, "come back to bed."

"Fine, but if you kick me off the bed again, I'm not going to anyone else's room, I'm going home," you huff as you throw the covers off. Haechan remains deeply asleep, none the wiser to what's happening around him.

Back in Jaehyun's bed, he has you embraced so tightly against his chest that your ear is starting to hurt against his muscular chest. The house is silent, probably as quiet as you've ever heard it, but you can practically hear the cogs in his brain whirring and it's driving you crazy. "What's wrong?" you ask softly.

Jaehyun wants to say how well you know him, but in reality, it's one of the things he loves most about you. "I don't want this to become anything bigger than it is, but... god! I think--I think I'm jealous of Haechan," Jaehyun shyly breathes out. Great, it's out there, one of his biggest insecurities is out in the universe.

You pop your head up, your chin resting on his chest as you look into his eyes with a cute furrow of your brow, "Jealous of Haechan?"

Jaehyun runs a hand down his face, how can he best say this? How can he phrase this so he doesn't sound like an insecure, jealous little boy? "Maybe... I'm just jealous of how-- how close the two of you are. I just-- all the little things you guys do with each other like throw me off. Like posting each other all the time, sharing a bed, falling asleep on each other and he cuddles you! You kiss his cheeks and he tells you things he would never tell me!"

Your thumb rubs away at the line between his brows with a soft gentleness that immediately has Jaehyun calming down. He loves the way you know him. You smile at him softly, "I want you to know that there is no way Haechan would ever come between the two of us, ever. I have a soft spot for him, yeah. In some ways he's like a younger brother and in other ways he's one of my girlfriends. What I do with him isn't anything I wouldn't do with Ari or Kira. He's even told me I've gotten too comfortable talking about my periods with him, he hates that."

Jaehyun laughs softly at that and you smile back, continuing, "I think, maybe... just maybe... you might be a little jealous that Haechan isn't as open with you?"

Jaehyun guffaws, his mouth literally drops open, "I don't want that little shit bag close to me in any way! Having him in the same frat is already too close!"

"Think about it, baby, you don't have siblings, but you have your brothers here. Haechan is about as 'younger brother' as they come and you're getting the full experience. I think that you're maybe feeling a little hurt or frustrated that you don't have as deep a connection with him as you'd like. Which I totally get, he grows on you kind of like eczema, so annoying at first and then you just grow to get used to it and handle it the best way you've learned," you explain, ending it all with a yawn.

Again, deep, deep, deep, deep... deep down Jaehyun knows you're right. You know him probably better than anyone on the face of the planet. Right now, he's not ready to admit that he wants to treat Haechan like a real brother.

"I kind of hate when you use your three semesters of psychology on me," Jaehyun tells you, rubbing a lulling hand up and down your back.

"It has to pay off somehow, right? But hey, your secret is safe with me."

"Yeah, I think I'd rather rush Alpha Sig than ever admit I want to be close with... gah! I can't even say it!" Jaehyun exclaims with an over exaggerated shudder.

"Be nice, you love him a little bit," you respond as your eyes finally start falling shut again.

"Like him a little bit, more like,"Jaehyun grumbles before closing his own eyes with the hope that when he wakes up this will all be a nightmare.

[maya--4]

Regrets

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Ghost!Gn!Reader

Summary: Ghost finds an actual ghost.

Words: 2053

Warnings: Gore, Reader expresses great distress finding out they died and wants to sleep forever. That's all I can think about but if you run into more tell me. I plan for the other chapters to get much darker so look out for that.

A/N: Part one of my Simon 'Ghost' Riley x actual ghost!reader. I was originally going to write as one big fic but decided chopping it up into pieces would be better. This is not my first fanfic but it is the first one on Tumblr I've ever posted. :)

Also inspired by this fic made by @ceilidho

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

  It's your room. The little concrete box you've spent the last 6 months in. An ache creeps in from... somewhere you're not sure. Like your body has been fused, all your nerves tangled and rewired. When your hand rests on the wall you feel the sensation of touch throughout your entire body. The room has changed slightly, the bunks are still there but your bed sheets have changed. You have no memory of how you got here.

It takes a minute for everything to return bit by bit, each memory hits you like a brick, all the years of loneliness trying to make friends and trying to win your parent's approval, all the time spent just for a fraction of affection. Then the army, you joined thinking this... this would be the thing that gets your parent's praise. The hollow feeling in your chest feels almost debilitating, the lump in your throat borderline choking. You made a friend, thinking of his name makes your head throb. Remembering anything about him makes you feel ill. Your body trembles, chest heaving frantically but air doesn't fill your lungs. You're not choking like you think you would... It's a dream. It has to be a dream, it would explain the weird sensations. That's a rational explanation for this.

'Just a dream, only a dream.'

The door opens and a man in uniform walks in, he's of a low rank, you don't recognize him as one of your roommates.

'Must have the wrong room.'

Your mouth opens to speak but nothing comes out but you can see him jolt, his head whips around to look at you.

  He's completely silent while looking at you. He looks afraid, not the kind of fear you get when someone hides around the corner and jumps out. It's like he's seen a ghost. You try to speak again but you have no breath to speak. He backs out of the room quickly slamming the door on his way out.

  You would have flinched at the sound but your attention is focused on something else. The mirror he was standing in front of... You didn't see it before, and when he walked in his frame blocked it.

  The face in the mirror is torn, teeth and muscles exposed on one side. The collar of the uniform drenched in blood. Another false inhale and the figure in the mirror moves its hand to its face. You see your hand in your peripheral vision. It's your face, but that can't be real, you're not dead. You were just in the gym. Confusion and denial cloud your thoughts until everything suddenly clicks.

'I died.'

Your hand drops, suddenly to weak to hold it up. The silent scream that is torn out of your throat does little to help all the sudden emotions. The realization makes you want to vomit bile but there is none. This is what you get, after years of neglect and sadness, all the years being forgotten, and the only thing in return that you get is death? The lightbulb flickers before shattering leaving you in the void.

  You feel nothing when you knell to the ground and coil up in a ball, sobs wrecking your body. What did you do to deserve an eternity of solitude?

'Why couldn't I just sleep forever? who's sick fucking idea was it to bring me back!?'

Your begs and sobs fall on deaf ears. You come to find out that time moves differently when your dead, not even sure how long you were dead before becoming a ghost. You try to seem non-threatening at first, but part of you dies with every interaction with the living, their fear only furthering your spiral into madness. You hold on to your humanity as long as you can but the passage of time takes everything eventually. Grief and longing morph into animosity, you find yourself lashing out more and more until they abandon the room completely. Turning it into a storage closet, installing an almost blindingly bright light to make you disappear. They rarely come in leaving you in total darkness, the shelves gather dust and cobwebs. It's almost peaceful if not for your thoughts hanging over you, the what-ifs, the jealousy, the regret.

  But curling up on the floor and being alone just feels better. Those moments you can forget reality and slip into daydreams are the only things you look forward to.

You can't do that when people are looking.

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

"You can't be serious Price." Cold seeps into his skin through his jacket where he leans against the wall.

  "You're not the only one, they're checking the rooms adjacent to yours too."

  'As if that changes anything.'

"Why do I have to pack up and leave? Can't they just do their jobs faster?" His eyes scan the forest just outside the base fencing. The sun has set past the tree line leaving a golden halo over the the tops of them.

"It's only two days Ghost." Price says before taking a drag of his cigar.

"What could they possibly be doing that would take two whole days?" Asking seems futile now, he knows they are checking the walls for structural damage, pipes that run through the walls, and the bathroom making sure everything is still up to code. But does that really take that long?

The captain breathes out, smoke pouring out, amusement written on his face.

"Maintenance."

It's not that he harbors any attachment to his room at the barracks, or anywhere else for that matter. He likes the convenient placement. It's the perfect distance to most of the base amenities and facilities while also not having too much traffic in the hallway. The room he's given temporarily is a different story. It's a long distance from everything, tucked into an old corner of the base. Roughly the same size as his own room but without the bathroom addition. He takes note of the single bed in the middle of the room, the scratches in the floor from moving bunks around, dusty cobwebs clinging to the ceiling, and stains on the walls and floor leave him wondering what soldiers could be doing in here that stains concrete. The metal frame creaks when he sets his bag on top.

"You've got to be fucking joking." He pinches the bridge of his nose, reminding himself he's slept in worse places.

He falls asleep easily when he needs to, so why can't he? Why does he feel on edge? There's no furniture for someone to hide behind, no windows for someone to look through, even the door is locked, but he can still feel someone watching him.

  He can't see you, not with the lights off. It should stay that way, just until he leaves. It's odd, they stopped putting people in here since they turned it into a storage room. This guy must be important for them to clear it out and give it to him. You just hope it's not permanent.

He doesn't remember the exact time he falls asleep but it had to be late because he wakes up strained. His hand paws around on the ground for his phone, unplugging it from the wall. Hitting the power button proves to be useless.

'It's dead.'

  He plugged it in last night, saw it charging before he layed down. He groans and goes in the general direction of the door to find the light switch in the dark. The light burns shapes into his vision, his eyes screw shut at the sudden blinding light.

'Who thought it was a good idea to put the brightest lightbulb in such a small room?'

The day doesn't get any easier, seems everything decided to go to hell and blow up in his face. A small fire in the kitchen, although not doing much damage means a mountain of paperwork for him later... on top of the paperwork he still has yet to do. He spends his entire day sitting behind a desk. The feeling of being watched doesn't return until he goes back to the room for the second night. The small light of a lamp illuminates the space, made sure to grab it on his way back so he can see in the morning without essentially flashbanging himself.

But it reveals a different problem, the far left corner of the room is darker than the rest. No matter how he moves the lamp closer does it dissipate. It remains a void. He's heard stories, distortions found on security footage, soldiers walking down the hallway in retired uniforms and disappearing around corners, soldiers bleeding out on the ground calling for help, and when medics arrive they've vanished without a trace. Given his name, he's familiar with the concept of 'Ghosts'. If this is one of those cases this one is not corporeal. It has no form, no mouth, most likely the reason he was on edge the night before. Or he's finally lost his mind.

Sleep envelopes him quicker tonight, knowing what had him on edge.

'Just a little shadow.'

He saw you, no doubt about it he stood in front of you, just staring. You can't tell what the hell he's thinking with that fucking mask on.

   'Please just leave me alone, I can't handle it...'

   The words echo through your head over and over. You truly can't tell that time passes when you are alone. Days, even weeks can pass by in what only feels like a few hours but when people come you can feel every second that passes only brings you closer to hysteria.

   Your peace returns when he leaves in the morning. No other furniture has been brought in, which hopefully means that he's not staying permanently. That fucking mask irritates you beyond reason. It could be that you've been left by yourself for so long.

   The groan that leaves his throat holds no amusement as he reads the screen of his phone. Price just delivered the news that a pipe in the wall is corroding and needs to be fixed. This means he's stuck with the shadow and creaky bed for another night at least until a qualified repair crew can come to base.

   "Should just throw the mattress on the floor." He mutters, pocketing his phone and changing directions, his original plan being thrown out the window as he carries a bundle of unfinished paperwork with him.

   He opens the door and flicks the light on, the overhead light illuminating every nook and cranny of the room like a flood light. It's unnecessary in such a small room but the lamp he grabbed is too dim for him to see what he's reading. Almost forgets about the shadow in the corner of the room as he sits down on the bed. The only reminder is a buzzing of his nerves that won't go away. He can feel the begining of a headache starting to form. His eyes trail to the corner involuntarily, like a moth to a flame. It's not visible, but he can still feel it. He manages to pry his eyes away and focus back on his work. Time passes and his headache has doubled. He gives up, choosing to do the work tomorrow and try to sleep off whatever has come over him so quickly.

'That's enough for today.'

He puts the folder down and does one more check to see that his phone is charging and that the handheld lamp is on before standing to turn the main light off. The lamp gives a small glow to the room.

He's not expecting the eyes in the dark, the lamp on the ground highlights the silhouette of the shadow. No longer just a corner devoid of light, the head, shoulders, arms, and legs can be seen albeit blurry. The malicious intent behind its eyes isn't lost on him though. He can feel the pure hate in its eyes, but realistically what can it do, stare him to death? His lip twitches upward into a grin.

   He doesn't spare another second thinking about it, checks the lock on the door, and makes his way to the bed. He takes a glance at the shadow. Their head has turned to look down at him. Still pressed into the corner like it was trying to stay as far away from him as possible.

   "You don't seem very happy that I'm here, Are you scared of me little shadow?" He regrets speaking. Whatever it is begins to shake violently, still firmly planted in the corner. A low growl turns to a sharp shrill before the lamp light bulb shatters plunging the room into darkness. His ears ring at the sudden shriek.

   'Probably shouldn't provoke the shadow.'

[changbinsboobs]

Your readings are so interesting ! I have been loving them so much. About Han being more stable than you thought, I agree and it doesn’t really surprise me much. I feel like the fandom sometimes hyperfocuses way too much on his mental health- they make it seem like anxiety (or any other mental issue) is an inherent personality trait of his, which is why a lot of fandom seem to think he’s a mess. Also I feel like a lot of people can’t wrap their heads around the idea that somebody with anxiety could possible enjoy the idol industry- performing, interacting with people, being on stage etc, therefore he must constantly be in distress (which is a lil ableist ngl)

Like, I’m sure he’s still a bit immature, and has some growing up to do, but he’s not walking around with SOS tattooed on his forehead ya know?

Anyway, love your readings. Can’t wait for the dorm dynamics one you mentioned in your other post - I’m so curious what goes on with in Chan and IN

Thank youu💗💗💗 and yeah I've noticed that with other members or other idols too in general. Like they hear something about the idol (in hans case that he has social anxiety) and they project that on any little "weird" behavior that they exhibit (by weird i mean something thats outside of the persona the idol usually portrays). I understand the good intentions of wanting to protect their belived idols but a fan can't really do much protecting if we're being honest. And more often than not (almost always) the fans' interference does more damage than good. Imagine you get an anxiety attack once, because you're swarmed by people. And now the whole world thinks you have an anxiety disorder. Maybe you've never thought of yourself as someone with anxiety, maybe this happens like once every 5 years. But now everyone talks about your anxiety and kind of unintentionally forces that on you. After a while you start identifying with it and might indeed exhibit auch symptoms. And because of that whole thing fans do when they escalate a little situation they've only witnessed a fraction of - i believe lots of idols are afraid to share more deeper stuff with their fans, just because they'll take a small piece of information and immediately infantilize the idol and turn it all into a much bigger thing than it is. This - even if it comes from good intentions - is a harmful behaviour many fans should unlearn because it keeps their beloved idol quite and in fear of sharing whats on their heart with their fans. Thats my thoughts on the matter😅got a bit long tho.

And about han, tbh i forgot he had anxiety before you mentioned it here😅 why i thought he's much more unstable is actually because of his songs and what he often shares in interviews as well as the members about him. He has said several times he feels alienated from the world and has difficulties socializing and fitting in, at the same time he's a very sensitive and creative person and has even some genius like traits - and all this taken into consideration i thought he would be having a much harder time sorting out his thoughts and finding his place in the world. But he seems to be actually doing really fine, which makes me happy cuz i think he's such a charming, sweet guy🥰

And yeah, i think ill be doing that reading the following days sometime. Its def not too far back in my queue:)

[fractualized]

I totally see where you're coming from with how you like your mix of comedy and seriousness and I think I'm really similar! I can definitely tolerate a lot of cheese but I'll almost always consider it a one off situation. I recently rewatched Batman and Robin while my wife was making a cast of my body so we could make cosplay and it was just so funny and silly that like it reminded me of what one of those really campy comics would look like in real life and I respected the fact that they could commit to it that way and make an artful movie that brought that to life but there were a few elements that didn't make sense to me like Barbara being Alfred's niece that I was just like whatever man and I knew I couldn't like... use it as a foundation for my basis of characterization, like I can with other media! I really love the animated series too, I grew up with it being my first experience with Batman and I always really respected it as a medium that I could trust to be satisfying and whole. I also really really liked Batman beyond because it felt like the closest continuation of that story even though I know it's really not canon and it kind of doesn't work, I like to view it as like a semi-official what if fan fiction from the original writers lol

I completely get what you mean about the comics, cuz I kind of view official comics like fanfictions even in their own right? I mean when you think back on like Bill finger and Bob Kane like eventually every other writer is going to be writing fanfiction of their characters but it's really fun to go through all the different Batman media and see whose stories you kind of like more and then whose stories you kind of tend to avoid

and when I mentioned I knew you liked comics, I was also speaking more from the perspective that you seem to have more knowledge about them Rather than I thought you had a preference for them, because you put together that comic PDF with batjokes moments and I was really impressed with that ☺️

i love your telltale fics and the games as a beautiful breath of fresh air into the life of batman so sometimes I like to imagine the animated series would be a great way to say where is juce 10 years later, if those universes were more cohesive setting wise lmao

Yeah, Barbara randomly being Alfred's niece is definitely one of the aspects of B&R that just… I guess it breaks up the campiness? That and Ivy being in love with Freeze for no discernable reason. And teaming up with him even though he'll kill her plants. And poor Bane! And then that weird bit at the end where Freeze is sort of forgiven but Ivy can't be? And Alfred almost dies. Should taken all that stuff out and added more camp.

I really enjoyed Batman Beyond too! I didn't even realize a lot of people didn't like it until recently. Honestly it's one of those things where I don't look into the reasons too much. lol I liked it and I'm fine with having liked it, no notes!! (OK I sorta lied. That bit in JLU where they made Bruce Terry's bio dad, that was bizarre.)

I am definitely in the "anything not created by Bill Finger and Bob Kane might as well be fanfic" camp. Like, sure, if DC puts resources behind a project, it has a better chance at being worth your time, but when I get down to it, I can't put a lot of weight behind the idea that someone's official derivative story is more valid than another someone's derivative AO3 post just because there was a cash exchange with a company that owns the original "asset." People who want to lean into that idea, that's their business.

The wild thing about the batjokes spreadsheet is I know that it's only a fraction of what's out there. I have read hundreds of comics at this point and I still feel like it's not enough to totally have a handle on things. Especially knowing how little I've retained. 😅 But that's another reason for the spreadsheet!

Thank you for enjoying my fics! And for implanting the idea in my head of a Telltale universe animated series… Just hijinks and maybe a little more murder with John and Bruce, bestest buddies.

[the-siren-in-your-fridge]

as a fellow gender expansive person [and being intersex meself], who has been reading the wheel of time, I have thought about this, and I have investigated it deeply.

To put it quite simply, robert jordan did not know trans or intersex people existed when he built the world of the wheel of time. The way gender works in that universe is so painfully and pervasively binary that it's actually a little unsettling when I think about it for long enough, that there was a time where some people in our world really believed humanity was like this [though I don't know if he himself thought so]. Even the soul is gendered in the wheel of time, and the "channeling limb" is a part of it.

How I would change it would sound subtle on paper but truthfully it would change a major aspect of the tone of the books, and the worldbuilding: I would simply make the nature of one's "channeling limb" an inherited sex-characteristic, along with all the other gendered powers in this universe. This would essentially bring the gendered aspects of the magic system[s] in this world in line with our modern, scientific understanding of sex and gender, and open the door for the existence of trans, intersex, and nonbinary people, without completely removing it from the setting entirely. It would mean there would be a fraction of channelers of a specific half of the power, who appear, present, and maybe even identify as a gender other than the majority of their type. Spicier still is it would also mean that, very rarely, if one follows the logic of the "channeling limb" as a sex-characteristic, that there would be individuals who can channel both halves of it, whether separately or at once. Whether or not these people would instantly burn themselves out according to the magic system's canon logic remains to be seen. But there are parts of the worldbuilding that would inevitably have developed differently and appear differently than their current canon expressions if this were actually the case in the default Wheel of Time. The present-day Aes Sedai could not possibly be an all-female organization, for example, even though they'd likely be three quarters cis women at least.

I hope dumping this wall of text in your inbox is not an irritation to you. I just stumbled across your post and found you were expressing a sentiment I really sympathized with, as a current-day reader of this series.

I love this idea! I’m only halfway through book four, so I don’t know EVERYTHING about the magic system, (like I don’t know about gendered souls or the channeling limb thing) but based on what I know so far, it’s weird that it’s gendered. I’m glad other people enjoyed my take!

I can’t say I’m mad that a guy who started a fantasy series in the 90s didn’t know about all the nuances of gender stuff because back then he would have had to seek it out, and if he didn’t know any gender spicy people, he wouldn’t have considered it (unless he read Wrinkle In Time, for example, and was intrigued by the Happy Medium or something along those lines form another project). You don’t question the norm without prompt most of the time, especially if it’s presented like a truth if nature that will never change, but it’s still disappointing. And a lot of the men vs women stuff gets on my case soooo badly because outside of it being painfully binary, it’s just annoying after a while. We get it, they hate each other. Even when I remind myself “it’s this bad because a man messed up the male half of the power, it’s a world building thing, it makes a bit of sense” I still get mad.

But this series has some of the most intricate world building I’ve ever encountered so sometimes it seems odd that he hasn’t considered, even a little, spicing up the gendered magic. The story could remain the same if he did what you suggested or even what I suggested in one of my older posts, and making different aspects of the power inheritable would definitely make things more complicated, but also more logical. All natural things have exceptions and the power seems to be, for lack of a better term, a nature thing (seeing as the amount of people with the gene for it is shrinking because of men being gentled). It would also make Rand being the dragon much more important (not just a lucky gene toss up, a near IMPOSSIBLE gene toss up, this is Definitely The Guy) and makes the power much more generally dangerous, because if it’s not a simple male/female split among cis people, novices in the white tower could go insane at random and men who are gentled could have been harmless and the Aes Sedai have shrunk the gene pool even more by accident. It certainly ups the risk factor, and this doesn’t begin to cover non-binary and intersex people, who add to the punnet square of Power Having even more.

(This is assuming I understood what you suggested. It’s like the calico/ginger cat gene? Where most of the time it’s one way but sometimes not? And that doesn’t always mean the cat is intersex? Yay cats)

So yes, gendered magic systems are way cooler if they account for the actual nuances of gender and sex

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Thanks. This is a great example of the sort of thing I don't really care to write more about -- metal alloys, but particularly aluminum alloys, are a case in which the "weirdness" of chemistry (or more accurately, the fact that you can do science about the weirdness) is such that any attempt to say anything remotely specific is immediately lost in a thicket of complicated facts and ideas. I learned what the "hardness" of a metal was called a few weeks ago and I haven't had time to learn anything since then, let alone write a proper post about it.

The one thing I would say with greater confidence is that there is an interesting way in which the concepts that make up "hardness" relate to the "hardness" of things that are not really metals, like plastic (which I learned yesterday is also made of atoms). The general idea is that we can define hardness as the "amount of energy required to deform a material." In this sense, a diamond is harder than a lump of clay or wood. In a more fundamental sense, this corresponds to a situation where the crystal structure of a material is (usually) very stable, and so the atoms don't change when you heat them up (i.e. no "disorder"). (A plastic that does this is called an amorphous solid, though amorphous materials are also usually disordered on a larger scale than we are talking about in the above definition, and are not really considered to be such.)

In other words, an "unhardened" material like plastic is full of disordered atoms, while the atoms in a "hardened" material (diamonds, etc.) have "crystal structure" which means they don't change when you heat them up.

What's great is that the crystal structure is not just "being ordered," as it's also related to the geometry of the atoms. In a crystal, the electrons have a well-defined position in relation to each other, determined by the crystal structure. What's great about this is that it means the electrons can "lock in" to that position very precisely: it takes very little energy to remove the electrons from their "lock" (to a random position); once they're "in" they're pretty difficult to remove. And because electrons are so small, they have a lot of energy. So in hardening something, you can heat it up without changing the electron positions very much, until the atoms lock in and it's impossible to get them moving around.

Now, as a physical example of this, it seems like the metal we are all used to most often is not hardened to the extent that diamond is hardened, which is how this generalization is supposed to work.

That is, what I'm saying is that in metal alloys, it's not obvious whether you're going to end up with (say) "all the atoms are locked in a crystal and unable to move when you heat them" or if the atoms in the metal are able to move and "lock into" a random position in the alloy, even though their number is relatively few compared to the atoms in the alloy as a whole.

But when the atoms are locked in at the first stage, the second stage involves adding a second metal which, if the second metal is similar in size to the first, the second metal will form a new crystal that will lock into the original crystal. This is why, for instance, iron is often used to harden gold jewelry.

I have only a vague idea of the mechanisms behind how this occurs. I imagine, in some sense, the second metal is just doing the same thing that happens in a metal alloy -- but with fewer atoms, they have "more energy," so they can cause some of the atoms in the first metal to move into a random spot, even if that's not really the "energy minimum." Then, the crystal is a new and more stable structure that "pushes" the random atoms (or some fraction of them) further "downhill" into the random position. But this is hard for me to imagine precisely, although it's clear enough that it's true.

I don't really know much about these processes outside of broad strokes and what I described in the last two paragraphs. And, of course, I don't really know anything about how metals harden or whether these generalizations apply to other metals as well. (The fact that diamond is used as a filler metal for gold may be important here: I learned that the gold is being "filed" in place with a metal that has the right properties and is "sugary," and therefore attracts the gold to itself and makes it stick to that location.) In the end it's just a lot of atoms, and atoms are just that mysterious.

But I do know (from wikipedia again) that some metals form solid solutions where they replace some fraction of each atom with another metal. In particular, aluminum and magnesium will form alloys together that have different crystal structures which can be stable, and I think I know why this happens, which is that these two metals (among others) have very similar crystalline structures, and have "chemical lattice strains" (the same as "lattice strains" that arise in alloys, but in this case we are interested in strains between different crystal structures).

(This sounds complicated, but it makes sense -- imagine if you had two crystals which had the same lattice size, but slightly different angles, and then you added metal A and metal B to each crystal, and the atoms were pushed into their proper position, but some atoms moved slightly more and some moved slightly less, and then you heated up the whole crystal so it was "locked" in the new position. You could imagine that happening, in some way, because of the angles -- but because of the angles, we are calling it "lattice strain" rather than a "lattice distortion." This is also the situation with the aluminum and magnesium alloys, only that with the two metals there are a lot of ways the atoms could move, so lattice strain can have the same effect as a big lattice distortion.)

Anyway, now this leads me to say that I am completely confused about why people have to do all this stuff with metal alloys, which is another one of those cases where it's just a lot of weird facts and very little reason. (The fact that we do it is presumably why we have to do it, but I feel like I'm supposed to feel some sense of justification here too, some sense of how this knowledge might have been put to use or might have practical benefit.)

What I'm trying to get at is, why are there a whole lot of cases in which the "amount of energy" that it takes to "unlock" a metal or crystal is not just a few eV but something around a 100's of eV? Why not "all" energies? Is there some advantage to this situation?

I was a bit hesitant about writing this post because I figured people would be more curious to hear about metals in general than specifically alloyed metals. But maybe I'm going about this backwards. Maybe there is in fact a general explanation for how atoms arrange when heated up, just as there seems to be a general explanation for why plastic is amorphous. The way this was explained to me was that it's because of quantum mechanics, but in

Frank tell me more about metals

I was going to write something more substantial here but it’s been a long day and I don’t really want to write a proper post, so I’ll just tell you about some of what I’ve learned about metals. Hopefully it will be interesting to you even if there’s much more that you would find more interesting

ALT

ALT

[junowritings]

I kinda had this thought for awhile but I've always liked the idea of an NRC MC having amnesia. Like, they have a grasp on what their world is like but still can't remember about their past and who they are. It'd also be interesting that MC puts effort in order to be accepted and learn or understand more in this new world despite not having magic while figuring out their identity. Oh and lets not forget a sprinkle of found family trope to fuel our tears :")

hell yeah for the amnesiac MC! I wanted to do all dorms but this got way too long and it's almost 1am so I hope this still suffices~!

also hell yeah birthday posting i sure know how to pick days lmao

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♡ With nothing but your name and the clothes on your back to call your own, you find yourself in a place that is not your own. You know so little about the world you came from, but enough to know that this place you’d been thrown into wasn’t it. Magic, potions, dragons and merfolk - there’s something in your chest that aches and you just know this isn’t your home, but if that’s the case, where is your home? Where did you come from? Your brain is foggy with thoughts and questions, but no memories - it’s as though your brain’s been picked through, stripped of the important pieces till only the bare essentials remain; it’s enough to function, but other than that? It’s empty, and any attempts to recollect just leave your head feeling like it’s gonna split in two.

♡ Grim was the first one to greet you since waking up in that coffin,so perhaps it was only natural that the two of you were attached at the hip. In a way the two of you are dealing with the same memories, or lack thereof. The demon cat’s got more than a few holes in his memory from before he snuck onto school grounds, and while even he has at least a few more than you do, you find comfort in the fact that there’s at least someone who’s going through what you’re going through, even if he’s nowhere near as hung up about the missing memories as you are.

♡ In the world of Twisted Wonderland, one might find it easier to be open about the memory loss, but at the beginning the thought of letting everyone around you know about your amnesia leaves you feeling bitter. It’s bad enough you barely remember your home, if you even had one, and the fact you’ve also got no magic doesn’t bode well for your future here - if it took pretending to feel even slightly normal in this situation, you’d happily avoid the topic altogether. And so that’s exactly what you do. It’s a small mercy that after the initial shock has worn off most people don’t spare you a second glance, and Crowley doesn’t seem the least bit interested in prying into your life if it doesn’t seem interesting, so coasting through without any prying questions is far easier than you assumed, and gives you the chance to start really settling in.

♡ It doesn’t take long at all before you’re being caught up in the wild events of school life at Night Raven College and all that it entails. Unusual classes, weird students, even weirder teachers; they’re just a fraction of what you need to learn, and the more you learn, the more you find yourself eager to understand this new world. At first, you learned to survive, as knowledge was just about the only thing you had to rely on aside from your own basic skills; however, it also gave you something to focus on - a welcome distraction from the reality of your situation and a source that could open up new possibilities - most importantly, the possibility of finding a place to fit into here. The efforts that you put in earn you a few cautious glances, but you’re diligent and hardworking, so it doesn’t take long for you to start excelling in classes and in afterschool clubs. The students often come to you for help, and the teachers are pleasantly surprised by your drive (hell, you’re sure that Trein praised you for an assignment once - and from the amount of jaw drops that earned from the other students you’re guessing that’s a rare thing). Knowledge really turns out to be power in this world when you’ve got no magic of your own to rely on, and you do your best to make the most of it with the time that you have.

♡ Aside from Grim, Ace and Deuce are two of the first people to find out about your amnesia. When Deuce first opens up about his younger years and his relationship with his mother, it opens up the discussion of families between the three of you. Hearing them talk about their home lives, siblings, parents, stirs up that feeling in your chest again. It’s painful, but also tinged with a twist of jealousy over the fact that they have lives outside of the school - that there’s people waiting for them when they come home. It’s inevitable that the conversation shifts its focus to you when you go quiet, and suddenly there’s three pairs of eyes staring you down - Grim’s knowing, and the others confused waiting for you to chime in.

♡ It would have been easy to lie, to make something up about who you are and where you came from. But your head spins and your throat feels dry at the mere thought and you realize you can’t lie to your friends. Ace and Deuce have been by your side almost as long as Grim has, and while they had no reason to want to spend time with you, they did. All those days walking to school together; joking around and copying homework; late nights staying over at Ramshackle dorm on days where no one could sleep. Hell, every fight you’d ever been in, those guys weren’t far behind (if anything, there were more than a few they’d actually caused, though Ace would never admit it) All these new memories you’d made, and they’d been a part of almost every single one. Deuce offers to skip it if you don’t want to talk about your family, and Ace is halfway through a playful jab about being nervous when you blurt it out before you can stop yourself.

♡ “I don’t know if I’ve got anybody - I don’t remember anything.”

♡ And the words just keep coming. All those thoughts about wanting to be accepted and wanting to make memories here to make up for the ones that your missing come tumbling from your mouth. You’ve been fighting to build your sense of self and belonging for so long, and finally admitting it is both cathartic and mortifying now that it’s out in the open.

♡ The stares were what you were most afraid of, what you hated the most. The perplexed followed by the realization, followed by an empathy that just felt like pity; it makes you feel sick, and you start regretting speaking up in the first place. That is until you’re pulled into a group hug hard enough to knock the wind out of your lungs.

♡ Ace’s hand is on your hair, mussing it up till your head’s spinning and you’re choking out a baffled laugh trying to swat him away. Deuce on the other hand is hugging you so hard, refusing to budge as though he’s trying to convey all of the comforting words he’s too awkward to say. He blurts out that you can come and visit his mom if you want, and that she’d really like you, but that just earns him a whack from Ace for it not being the right time. Grim, not being one to be outdone by anyone else, dramatically perches on your shoulder, telling you how dare you say that you’ve got no friends when you’re his favorite henchman! - that’s pretty much like a family, right? Not exactly, but the sentiment is enough to have you sniffling and wiping at your eyes, fighting back a wavering smile while listening to your friends playfully argue about forgetting to bring their handkerchiefs on today of all days.

♡ Heartslabyul students just don’t know what to make of you. You go out of your way to be helpful, and are more respectful of the rules than some of their first years. Cater thought you were joking when you asked for a copy of the dorm rules, but nearly choked on his lunch when you came back the next day able to quote almost a third of them off by heart. Maybe you were just trying to impress, but if that’s what you were trying to do it worked like a charm - it kept a collar off of your neck and even gained you a modicum of respect from their dorm leader. It clicks that your background is a touchy subject early on, since any attempts Trey and Cater have made to pry for more information end up with you fighting to change the subject, and it isn't long before it comes out why. Your conversations with Ace and Deuce make you feel better about your situation, but that doesn’t mean you’re chuffed when the guesses of the Heartslabyul’s members hits the nail on the head. Cater was joking when he asked if you’d just forgotten, but the deer in headlights look that you give him brings everything screeching to a halt.

♡ Things admittedly get awkward, for a little while, and the fact you don’t hear much from your friends at the dorm for the rest of the day doesn’t make you feel any less awkward about it. But then the next day it’s almost like things never happened. Cater asks you out to lunch during your breaks, making it a point to take photos and videos to help solidify the memories behind all the places you go together. Trey lets you try anything new he makes, offering to teach you how to bake and offering you a genuinely proud smile when you take him up on his offer and start learning the tricks of the trade. You even start getting invited out to tea parties with Riddle. He claims that this is his attempt to be less uptight around his peers and loosening up, but you don’t miss the small quirk of his lips when your knowledge about the Heartlabyul rules gets brought up during your visits.

♡ It’s easy to see Savanaclaw as prickly towards you, viewing you as a pushover with too much time on their hands. Thankfully, they don’t even blink when the topic of your amnesia comes up. Sure, Ruggie asks way too many questions that you don’t know the answer for, and Jack gets a bit awkward trying to figure out if what he’s gonna ask you is going to upset you somehow, but all things considered it’s nowhere near as bad as you thought it’d be. In a way Leona envies you for having a blank slate - in his eyes you don’t have any responsibilities outside of school, no enemies to make your life difficult and the ability to fit in with whoever you want. It’s nowhere near as easy as he makes it out to be, which ends up building some resentment between the pair of you since he doesn’t make any attempts to hide his opinions.

♡That opinion on you softens however when he sees a glimpse of what it’s really like. Hell, the overblot wasn’t even something you needed to get involved in; you could have walked out and left once things started looking dicey, especially with how weak you were with no magic. But you stayed - not just stayed, you fought to get him back, even if you did get in his face and booted him in the knees for his earlier stunts the moment he came to.

♡ Octavinelle’s dorm finds out about your amnesia long before you even tell Ace and Deuce, but you don’t learn about that fact until your first visit to the Monstro Lounge. Of course you should have expected it, given how they act like something out of a cheesy mafia movie. Yet that doesn’t stop your heart from dropping into your guts when Floyd sidles up to you, being way too dramatic as he slings an arm around your shoulder and whines about his poor lost little Shrimpy. Floyd’s halfway through trying to coax you into letting him adopt you like you’re some kind of stray puppy when Jade is polite enough to wrestle away his brother out of your personal space.

♡ Even then you not so unintentionally get wound into spending more time with the Tweels after this event; they like sharing snacks with you and make a point to hover around your table when you come to the lounge with friends for food. On more than one occasion they’ve straight up wormed their way into sitting with you, pushing your friends out of the way till they’re nestled against both of your sides like they’re trying to make you feel included. It’s nice, but also with the way they act on a regular basis you can’t help wondering if they’re plotting something when you catch them grinning out of the corner of your eye.

♡ Turns out that’s exactly what they were doing, because not long after this starts up Azul offers you a part time job at the lounge - there’s a surprising amount of benefits, some of which you’re sure the other workers probably weren’t offered. Guess being the twins favorite comes with its perks, and Azul frames it as everyone being able to spend more time together, but honestly, if hiring you means that the twins would stop getting distracted then it’s a deal he’s willing to give some leeway for.

♡ Kalim is really sweet, but the idea of you having zero memories about your previous life doesn’t truly sink into his head at first. He believes it’s a temporary issue so wholeheartedly a small part of you almost believes that’s the case; that any day you could get your memories back. But then the days pass, and every question he asks is met with sheepish glances and deflections to other topics. He’s not naive; he knows that the fact you have no memories causes you distress, and it upsets him to see you like that.

♡ So he vows to make up for your missing memories in the present. Kalim brainstorms with his dormmates and others from different dorms to make a bucket list of core memories and exciting things that he wants you to experience. They range from small things like sleepovers to extravagant trips to whatever places you’re allowed to travel to without getting in trouble at school (and a few that you aren’t allowed to). And of course he and Jamil come along too! Jamil goes out of obligation, but he also doesn’t want to see you getting overwhelmed when Kalim inevitably goes too much too fast. Jamil’s a good judge of social limits, and given your lack of memories there’s no saying what you are and aren’t comfortable with without you telling them directly. Even though he says that's the main reason why he’s here, he’s looking forward to watching your face light up when you see some of these places just as much as Kalim is, and it’s easy to get whisked away in this abundance of new memories you’re all going to make together. Just get ready to be pseudo-adopted by Kalim though; he’s got a bleeding heart and he loves his family. So knowing that you don’t remember yours and don’t have the supportive familial unit only solidifies that he wants to help you have that family - and what better family than his? He assures you that you’ll always have a home at his home every time the school goes on break. He’ll introduce you to all of his siblings! Sure it’s a lot but he’ll help you learn all their names and they’ll love you just as much as he does once they get to know you! Coming from anyone else you’d assume they were joking, but unlike the tweels, Kalim will actually go through with adopting you if you’re not careful.

[beardrabbles]

invitation.

characters: GN!reader, claude, mentions of GN!byleth

warnings: none

word count: 2,814

notes: posted this on ao3 ages ago and totally forgot to post it here too :’) got into the fandom late, like alwaaaays! but i have an enormous claude / golden deer bias and wanted to write some fluff with him.

You forgot sometimes that this peaceful spot tucked between the trees wasn’t yours alone. You shared it with another from time to time, but it had been so long since the last time you both stepped foot in the clearing that it startled you to hear footfalls crunching at the grass behind you. Pushing yourself up halfway, eyes blinking blearily, you spotted the richly dressed prince with his hands planted on his hips.

“Napping without me?” Claude clicked his tongue, and you quickly replied with a roll of your eyes.

“I can’t nap here on my own?” You fell back again, letting the soft grass cushion you. A soft, content sigh escaped through your nose as the sweetest of breezes barely brushed your skin. It smelled of flowers and damp leaves, dense soil and a distant storm. There was no zing of hot iron or blood, and it was a relief.

“I thought it was our thing.  .  .”

You felt him sit beside you, taking up his usual position to your left. The tiniest flutter tickled the inside of your ribs, his nearness nearly making your head spin. “Before I came along, it was just your thing, remember?”

“Well, yeah, but I like it better this way.” Claude leaned back on his hands, eyes up towards the greying sky. It had taken fighting a war to bring back their usual glimmer, but it was there in full. Bright, hopeful, determined. Laying there, gazing up at the unsuspecting prince, it was almost as if you were looking at the man from five years ago — the cunning, clever and sometimes troublesome man that you had fallen head-over-heels for and had continued to painfully pine for.

“Me too.” You dared to smile, his gaze shifting to you. Adoring him hurt, but no amount of hurt would have you appreciating his presence any less.

Claude returned the smile, and the gesture sent your heart slamming against your chest. But just as quickly as it came, the smile faded. “I spoke to Byleth.”

You sat up in an instant, concern etched into your face. You were aware that he had gone to meet them, but he had failed to tell you why. You equally failed to push the subject, as it wasn’t your place to disrespect a man in his position. Curious as you might have been, you assumed it was best not to ask and only hope that he trusted you enough to confide in you later. Seemed you were right, though you acknowledged to yourself that it was a rare thing.

“How did it go?”

“They’re disappointed I won’t be here for the coronation. I can’t blame them. After everything we’ve been through together, I should be here for them. I want to hope they understands. They always have.” He exhaled sharply. “But, hey, I got to see them smile again! I think as long as they’re here, Fódlan will be in good hands. If they keeps smiling, if they keep breaking down the walls that were built up, I can go home and do my part there. I trust them.”

You shifted, feeling uncomfortable in your envy.

“So they’re not coming with you to Almyra?” You wondered. Claude shook his head.

“No, and I didn’t want to ask. Fódlan needs to be taken care of. It needs a parent that will hold its hand and lead it in the right direction. It’s gonna stumble around like an infant walking for the first time, but that’s why they’re the best person to lead. They’ll know what to say and do to help this little baby along.”

You screwed up your face and nudged him with your shoulder.

“You really like talking about babies.” You pointed out. Claude’s cheeks and the tips of his ears darkened a fraction, but he dismissed it with a hearty chuckle.

“I guess I do. I wonder why that is.” He trailed off, voice soft but nowhere near as confused as his words would have lead you to believe. You had long ago resigned yourself to never truly understanding him, so you shrugged. Trying to pick through his mind was like attempting a hedge maze without a map.

“Does that mean you’re going to be heading back soon?”

“I can’t stay for long. There’s so much I need to do if I’m going to see things through, but there’s something important I need to do here before I can go home.” There was sharpness to his eyes that you recognized and deeply adored. He was planning something, and you felt your curiosity rise again.

“What is it? Can I help?” You were always so quick to offer him aid. Usually, he gently denied it, stating time and time again that most of his schemes were for his mind alone. Things often worked out for the better that way. The fewer people that knew, the less chance they could commandeer the plan or ruin it. Yet you still asked just in case he needed you.

“Maybe. Before that, can I ask you something?”

You frowned. “Of course. You can ask me anything, you know that.”

“You’ve been saying that since we met. Is it really true?” Claude smirked and raised a single brow, only for you to shove him harmlessly.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” You eyed him for a moment, worry mounting. “Was that what you wanted to ask me?”

The prince shook his head, as if he were getting off track. “No. I wanted to know where you plan to go. What are your plans for the future?”

“Oh! Oh.” You frowned when the sudden realization that you had no plans slammed into you. “I don’t.  .  . know. I haven’t thought about it. I’ve been so busy supporting everyone else, doing what I can for them, that I don’t know what to do with myself. Everyone’s grown up. They’re all doing their own thing, starting their own lives. No one needs me anymore.”

“That’s not true.” Claude’s voice was firm in your ear, and his expression was set to match. You smiled meekly.

“I grew up with all of you, but it felt like my purpose was to help you all find yours. Not that I really think I’m capable of being that helpful, but I never took the time to think about myself. I was too worried about you all reaching your dreams that I didn’t have one. I don’t have one.” You amended the last part quickly because it was blatantly clear to you that you had no direction to go in.

“There has to be something you want.” Claude pushed. You laughed.

“At the risk of repeating myself, I want what you want. I want you to succeed.” You opened your mouth again, but were quick to clamp them shut when another thought arose. I want to be with you.

It was lovely to imagine, but you had lived with the fact that any future with him was left solely to your imagination. You met him as an heir, and you knew him now as a prince. The differences in your status was vast and hard to ignore. Claude had his mind set on making those differences unimportant, but you doubted that he could find room in his heart for you. He had a country to take care of and love, not to mention you two had been friends since the start of your time at the academy. Too much time had passed since then, and while your feelings had grown deeper and more troublesome, you were sure he had none to begin with. No, as students, he had been too preoccupied with tormenting you. Teasing, poking, taking up your time with nonsense and rarely giving you a moment to yourself.

Despite him being a brat at times, you loved him. And even if he didn’t reciprocate, you were grateful to have known him at all.

“So you’re not bound to Fódlan?” His voice shook you from your thoughts.

“What?”

“Do you have any obligations here in Fódlan?” His gaze was so intently set on you that it made you squirm, the feeling ten times worse since coming out of your own head.

“No, not that I can think of.” You couldn’t recall making any promises.

“Right, so you could leave.” Claude hummed thoughtfully and got to his feet. Once upright, he dusted the grass from his clothes and offered you a hand. Confused, you took it and let him pull you into standing.

“I guess I could, but where would I even go? I don’t know anyone outside of Fódlan.” You felt something subtle was being said, you couldn’t catch on. Some days, you could. You had learned him just as he had learned you, but he was always several steps ahead. You could read him, but only the pages he allowed you to see. In this case, the pages were written on, but only in bits and pieces.

Claude gave you a pointed stare and a gentle, encouraging squeeze to your hand. When you failed to understand, he raised both eyebrows and pointed to himself. No words were needed. His gestures and odd line of questioning were like a clarifying slap to the face. You reeled, giving him a wide-eyed stare while sputtering idiotically.

“Wh——”

“That took you while. I was starting to worry I’d have to spell it out for you.” Claude put on a convincing pout. “Unless this is your weird way of telling me you don’t want to come with me.”

“No!” You leaped too soon, your eagerness prompting a smirk on the prince’s face. You fell silent again, worried that saying anything more might reveal all of what you had been trying to hide for over five years. “I’m not saying that.”

“What are you saying?” He purred cunningly, hand still holding tightly to yours. You didn’t resist when he to eased you closer, your heart screaming in your chest. Cheeks red and breaths shallow, you could hardly think. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.

I’m still napping, and this is just another stupid dream.

You swallowed hard and peered up at him. “I think I should be asking you that, Mr. Vague.”

“Ah-ah,” chided the cheeky man, “you’ll have to address me as Prince Vague now.”

You scoffed and gave him another shove. When your hand pressed to his shoulder, he trapped it there with his own. Even closer now, Claude lowered his head until your noses nearly touched. You sucked in a breath and found yourself unable to move away, attention trapped in his bright, beautiful eyes.

“You want to know what I’m asking you?” He lowered his voice, tone growing tender and warm. You nodded. “I’m asking if you’ll come home with me. I want you to meet my parents and my people, and I want them to meet you. I want them to love you as much as——”

He choked for a moment, a rare flicker of pure emotion startling him.

“As much as what?” You didn’t want to get your hopes up, but he was making it incredibly difficult not to.

Claude calmed himself with a shaky breath and tilted his chin down, lips barely ghosting the curve of your cheek. His eyes fluttered half closed, while a single lock of his dark hair tickled at your cheek. When you didn’t shy away, he spoke again in honeyed tones. “I want them to love you as much as I do.”

“You can’t mean that.” Your entire being felt numb with glee, but you couldn’t process his confession without a little doubt. He met your doubt with a chuckle, so you persisted. “Why me?”

“Why not you?” He nuzzled into your cheek, and you felt the compulsion to reach up and thread your fingers through his hair. You had done so many times before, letting the gentle touches calm him during his bad days, but there was new meaning behind it now. There was an honest love behind it as your dragged your fingers through the strands, pushing them back and away from his darling face.

“There were so many others.  .  .” So many people wanted his attention, his affection. You were but one in a thousand that longed for him.

“I didn’t care. I dreamed of many futures, and all of the best ones had you standing there beside me.” He muttered into you, the softest of kisses resting just under your eye.

“We argued so much.” You shuddered, warmth blooming in your cheeks.

“You kept me grounded. How can anyone expect to be a decent ruler if they’re always agreed with?” He countered. You huffed and tried to think of another argument.

“You used to tease me all the time.” You muttered.

“I’ll admit that was dumb of me, but it felt like the only way to get your attention.” His lips found the tip of your nose, and you couldn’t contain a snicker. “You looked so cute when you were embarrassed, especially when you wrinkled your nose. I couldn’t help it.”

“Why do I feel like you still can’t help it?” You tucked a lock of his hair behind his ear and let your fingers follow the path of his facial hair. He was putty in your hands, cheek pressing to your hand.

“It’s part of my charm.” Claude flashed his usual smile, then took a step back. The lack of closeness left you feeling a little colder, but the distance let you appreciate him fully. Tall, handsome, commanding. You were exceedingly proud of him, and you felt yourself falling for him all over again. But before you could think to speak, he started again. “You don’t have to answer me right away. I know this a lot to ask of you, so I want to give you the time you need. I’m leaving in two days. Meet me at the——”

You didn’t allow him to finish. Your heart was too full and on the verge of bursting, and it seemed silly to you that he didn’t know what your answer would be when he was so skilled at predicting you. Rather than let him wonder, you removed your hands from his and took his face between them. You gathered your courage, mustered with his help, and pulled him down for a soft but silencing kiss.

Claude wasn’t often rendered speechless, but he supposed he didn’t mind being put in his place if it meant your lips fitting against his as perfectly as they did. Unfortunately for him and the heat radiating throughout him, you didn’t let the kiss last long. He wanted to wrap you in his arms and crush you against his chest like he’d long to for years, but you parted from him too soon for his liking.

“Where are you going?” He took chase, but you placed your hand over his mouth. Claude stilled and arched a brow.

“I’ve had my answer for years, Claude. I’m with you in every possible way. But if I ask you a question, will you answer me honestly?” You uncovered his mouth, but his silence told you more than words would. “How long have you, uh.  .  .”

“Cared for you? Admired you? Wanted to kiss you the way you just kissed me?” Every question he posed in response to yours made your heart thud and your cheeks burn. “A long, long time.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I was never given the chance.” He answered so surely that you wondered if he had those words prepared. You couldn’t pester him about it — too many things had gone horribly wrong during your time at the academy, and it didn’t make sense to plant seeds in dead soil. There would have been no guarantee that it would bloom and flourish, but with the land starting a slow recovery, you hoped that what you two started here would become lusher and more far-reaching than any forest in Fódlan.

“It’s alright.” You giggled giddily and granted him another kiss, this one to the corner of his lips. “We were given our chance, and you took it.”

“Does that mean you’re going home with me?” He asked.

“I told you——”

“I want to hear you say the words.” Claude softly pleaded. Weak for his doe eyes, you melted in his arms and relented.

“I’m going home with you, Claude. I want to meet your parents, and I want to get to know your people. And for as long as I’m there, for as long as you’ll have me, I want to get to know you better.”

A soft sigh tinged with relief escaped the man as his head came to rest on your shoulder. His grasp on you tightened, and you felt his heart beat against your chest.

“Thank you.”

You smiled and embraced him. “Don’t thank me. Just take me home.  .  .”

[nagito-kissmaeda]

Yandere Komaeda Headcanons submitted by Chaos under the cut (y) Warnings: Slight nsfw, yandere behavior, stalking, mention of suicide, masturbation (not very explicit.)

Yandere Nagito probably wasn't very Yandere before you came along. The unlucky boy was probably still the funky little creep to his classmates as always but as soon as you step through the doorway of 77-B's classroom then he kind of just thought, "Oh, they're pretty." And continued with his day. He didn't think too much of you.

If you were an ultimate who walked into the classroom, he wouldn't have thought much of it besides the idea that "YoU wErE sPrEaDiNg HoPe 😩"

If you were a reserve course student, on the other hand, he would think he is slightly superior. So, if you talk to him he'll feel like he's better than you but won't say anything except under certain circumstances (ex: You ask him for his opinion of you, his opinion on reserve course, that kind of stuff. At least, he's honest :/) But keep in mind, he only really acts like this when you two first meet.

After getting to form a friendship with you (however that happened, I'll leave that up to you), his crush on you takes shape quickly.

He mostly just did small stuff that made it obvious that he liked you (whether he realized it or not.) If you weren't around he'd be asking everyone in sight if they knew where you were. He'd linger uncomfortably close to you whenever you two were together. The unlucky boy also tended to...✨follow✨ you.

Bestie, run while you still can 🏃‍♀️💨 because after he kidnaps you you're gonna be more like ♿

(I guess that's assuming you can run at all...sorry if I offended someone ._.)

When you two are hanging out, he eventually opens up to you about his illnesses and past. All of what he told you would probably be a lot to process so the only thing you can think of besides, "I'm so sorry that happened to you," is that you just hug him. Now he's shocked. You're both shocked. wOAH! Nagito doesn't move at all during the hug and probably forgot to breathe because c'mon...homie hasn't received any form of physical affection for God knows how long. He's drawing a total blank and the first words that spring to his mind are, "I'm going to marry them."

You cannot tell me this man doesn't want to get married one day. Yes, his luck sucks fat juicy butt but it's just something he craves and can be selfish about. Nagito's opinion on his want for having a spouse goes back and forth, like how the fitness gram pacer test works (I bet some of you don't even know that this is something outside of a meme lol.) He probably got this desire from seeing how bad his parents' relationship was.

Nerdy headcanon stuff you don't have to read: So, it isn't canon that his parents had a bad relationship but I imagine that they did because Nagito mentions that his mom had never complimented him and he gained a massive inheritance after his family's death. Let me explain my logic on those. Nagito's mom probably never complimented him because she didn't like or want him. I also headcanon that his parents were in an arranged marriage which is why they were so rich and why I think they had a bad relationship, because let's be honest, not all arranged couples are comfortable with one another. The arranged marriage also could've been the reason why his family was wealthy, it could have had to do with business and work. So to wrap it all up, Nagito's parents are rich because of an arranged marriage and they don't really like each other and they had a kid that neither of them wanted so now it's a broken family with a fucked up kid. I know that sounds like a stretch but that's why it's a headcanon and not actually canon lol.

After that one hug, that's when he truly sees you as some sort of ethereal Deity that he was sure he was going to wed in the future (Hell, he'd probably settle for right there, right now.) He no longer cared if you were an ultimate or not because now he saw you as something even greater. Of course, he still views himself as scum but even scum has desires that they are willing to do anything for.

After Nagito had come back to his dorm, the realization hit him that if he was going to marry you, he would have to be worthy of your hand in marriage. So, he prepares. By that I mean he starts stalking you a lot.

You two were already friends on social media so you probably didn’t dwell too much on it when you found him accidentally liking old posts. He’d go on your socials and scroll through it looking for every little bit of information he could find on you. Sometimes he'd strike gold and other times he'd dig up dirt. Nagito began talking to you a lot more so he could gain some information on your likes and dislikes. You only assumed that he was more comfortable with talking to you now because he confided his troubles in you but in reality he was planning your future life with him. Once in a while you'd invite to your dorm whether it was for hangouts, study sessions, or just sleepovers (he absolutely LOVED it when you brought those up.) The only opening he had to steal stuff is when you went to the bathroom and when that happened all he'd do every single time is go to the closet, grab another one of the pillow cases that the dorm provides, and switch them out with your current ones. When the pillowcase stops smelling like you then he just sticks it in the school's laundry basket where things like bed sheets, pillow cases, and blankets that belong to the school go.

After weeks after weeks of obtaining bits and pieces of information on you such as food you like and dislike, what your family is like (If you/your oc has one), your favorite movies, music genres, and clothing, etc., He eventually realized that he lacked three more things. Romance, experience, and…"performance."

The one thing he absolutely needed to learn first was "How to kiss." Even though no one sees his search history besides him, it was still very  embarrassing to put those words on his computer. He typed those three letters into the google machine and ta-da! A wikihow page and a YouTube video were apparently his best options. He opted for the latter and watched as a lady and her boyfriend demonstrated how to perform different types of kisses. Intimate and sexual. He feels awkward just watching this and he feels like he should practice but...on what? Luckily for him, there is a perfectly good pillow lying on his bed.

...This was definitely weird. His chapped lips were pressed against the plush pillow as he imagined he was french kissing you. This doesn't seem like the greatest method but Nagito doesn't seem to have any other choice.

The pillow in front of me was wrinkled and slightly wet from where I had last kissed it. It felt beyond awkward to kiss a pillow and imagine it was your future partner. I couldn't imagine them walking in on me as my face was buried in a pillow while moaning out muffled noises. It would be far too embarrassing but, I've faced worse. Practice should continue or else my mouth will never come as even a fraction of pleasure to my love. I approach the pillow and lay, stomach down, on my bed again. While this has been an awkward situation, my insides are starting to feel like they're on fire! It's probably just the thought of Y/N floating around in my brain. I take a deep breath before cupping my hands at the corners of the pillow and diving my mouth towards the pillow once more. I start off with a short kiss but continuously start moving my lips against, what I imagine to be, their lips. I move my bottom lip more often than my top. Imagining I'm trapping their lips against mine. Just the thought of trapping them makes me grind my hips against the mattress a little. Even though I'm soft I still let out a little whimper. Does Y/N even like it when their partner makes noise? I wasn't able to find any information on what she likes in bed so...with my luck, I'll just leave it to chance. My kisses get more sloppy and desperate. I begin swiping and swirling my tongue against the pillow thinking about just what it might feel like to make out with them. Their hot, wet mouth pressing up against mine while our tongues rub against one another in an attempt to touch each other. I moan seemingly too loud at that thought and start humping the bed. Everything feels so hot.

Maybe combining kissing practice and "performance" practice would be a good idea.

Once he starts performance practice, his browser is constantly on sex related websites. But more on the education side...he wants to know how to make you feel good and how to make himself last longer. Once in a while, he does go on the hub though so he can pretend it's you and him having sex on the screen. He tries his best to look for ones where it sounds like you or looks like you. He prefers the ones where it sounds like you so that way he could just close his eyes and imagine you and him are together. 

Just a random bonus I thought I'd add in: He got a boner during class once and sat there for like ten minutes just waiting for it to go away. So he just ended up palming himself through his pants and struggled to not make any noise. He liked to imagine you were under the desk pressing your face against his clothed crotch and just rubbing your face around that area. Luckily, he came without letting a single noise slip past his lips. Unluckily, Nagito cums a lot. So everyone could see the enormous wet spot on the crotch of his pants when class was dismissed.

He happens to have a weird habit of doing domestic and soft things with a hint of creepy. For example, one of his favorite things to do as of recently is print out a picture that has your face in it, tape it to his pillow, and fall asleep cuddling it. This sounds fine if you two were dating but… you aren't. He'll give it kisses, cuddle with it, fall asleep with it, and, of course, it's what he uses during his performance practice. He also enjoys eating meals with it and watching movies while cuddling it too. He perceives it all as practice for when you two are wed.

I'm going to assume you aren't an oblivious idiot and just say that you probably began to notice how weird he'd get around you. You tried distancing yourself a little bit but enough to still stay friends. He noticed the change in how often you'd hang out with him and his anxiety skyrocketed. Nagito would feel he had only a couple choices left. And that was to kidnap you, get rid of any obstacles that didn't allow him to spend every waking moment with you, or just flat out kill you so that way no one could have you. He already knew he wouldn't be able to even breathe without you so he'd likely kill himself as well in the process.

Author's Note: I'll probably be discontinuing that one Nagito x reader chapter 2 because I wasn't able to finish it before the school year started and I was just dissatisfied with the chapters BUT! I do have plenty of headcanons on yandere Komaeda! Message me if you want some far more nsfw headcanons because I have a lot for this guy.  I'm also very open to crackfic oneshots.

[marshmallowprotection]

Hiii!!! ever since I played the Christmas dlc I’ve had only one thought: when unknown breaks into the appartement he asks “you like me don’t you?” but what if bold mc cut him off mid sentence to say “I like you”? That though has being plaguing my mind ever since;;;

Also sending you love your posts always bring me great joy and the suit fluff you provide is what keeps me going thank you for your service

૮₍˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶₎ა

づᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏 ♡

Unknown was surprised that you answered every single one of his messages with a wave of your wrist. You didn't even blink. You just listened to every word that he was saying and gave him whatever he asked for.

Like a good little assistant, of course, you weren't to that point yet, but you would be soon enough.

You were always his little mouse. The one following his melody and strings as he beckoned you to listen to every word he said. Leaving you to be his eyes as he got everything he needed to get his every heart's desire within his clutches.

Revenge, power, dominance, and more.

Everything that he wanted to prove that his existence was worth something and anything that he choose to do was for the reason of making those that hurt him, left him behind, or worse, were left to the fishes underneath the surface of the water to pay their debts.

So pathetically cute and naïve. You were everything that he needed to break the RFA. He was going to make sure that you were rewarded for obeying his every order. No matter how odd you were for trusting a man that you'd never seen before.

You kept reaching out to him, telling him what you were doing, what the RFA was doing, listening as he told you to look for doubts in the people around you. You wavered in believing the RFA cared about you the way that they did, and that's what he wanted.

It only took him a short while to get you to bounce towards his lure and reel you in. You expected him to show up at the party to sweep you off your feet.

He never did come, no, you were left looking around the party for answers that would never come.

Unknown watched all of it. He saw your disappointment on security cams and heard you lament underneath your breath. You seemed so sad to know that your expected gift from him wasn't coming.

That was all the more reason for him to give you his gift in person. He had found the new passcode to the apartment.

He dismantled every camera within a mile radius so that the redhead would be none the wiser to what was happening until it was too late to save you. Then, he waited for you to come to the apartment, and that's where you were now.

Staring at him with wide eyes and trembling fingertips at your sides as he walked closer and closer to you. His body looming over yours in the way of aggression. Your back hit the wall as he sneered, his hand toying with a stray strand of hair.

"You know, isn't it funny?" his deep voice rumbled in his chest as those haunting eyes pierced your very soul to the core. "You listened to everything I asked. You did everything I asked... like a good little pet, didn't you? Tell me the truth, tell me you like me. Tell me you like the hacker that scares you. I want to hear it from your lips as you cry, tell me you like—"

With a hasty look in your eyes, your hand reached up and grasped at one of the forearms that was caging you in. "I like you," you blurted in a mere fraction of a second, cutting him off. "I really like you. I really-really-really like you, Unknown. Nobody's ever wanted me like you do and I..."

Sputtering nonsensical gibberish, Unknown was able to realize that you were a freak. You were weird... you were wrong and yet, he liked that. He liked that. You were willing to throw away your precious RFA because the monster offered you his hand.

Why wouldn't you?

He wasn't lying to you about sweeping you away and taking you to paradise.

He wasn't going to cage you alongside a cat like Jumin would.

He wasn't going to belittle your strength like Zen would.

He wasn't going to use you as a cute replacement like Yoosung would.

He wasn't going to lie to you and toy with your heart like Seven would.

He wasn't going to lament and use you as free therapy like Jaehee would.

No, Unknown was going to treat you extra special... because holding you in his hands meant that the RFA would submit their will and much more to be able to be by your side again.

They would fall to ruin in a matter of days and realize the falsehood of their reality, only to join Mint Eye and help it flourish. While he and his Savior could destroy the liar and the traitor.

He wanted you to like him like a lovesick puppy.

He wanted you curled at his side, ignoring 707 and Jihyun Kim, looking at him like he was your God and Master, providing you with bliss and joy that none of them would ever provide.

You were his eyes.

His pet and his assistant.

Unknown began to laugh. The sound twisted and amused all at the same time. This was everything he wanted and you were eating out of the palm of his hand. He looked at you, eyes seemingly glowing in the darkness as he sneered.

His breath rolled against your cheek, "You like me, [Y/N]? The precious RFA royalty? What a little freak you are... I wonder what they'd think if they knew that you were letting me walk all over you and use you as I wanted... but, you like that, too, don't you? Don't worry, don't worry, I'll take good care of you for being a very good pet. You'd like that now, wouldn't you?"

And really, you couldn't do anything at that moment but shiver and nod your head. You wanted him, no matter what that meant, and if that'd mean that you would have to follow him, you would follow in his footsteps all the way down to hell.

[oikadori]

A/N: I really liked this request!! I love Yamaguchi but I’m really insecure about writing for him?? so that’s why he isn’t on my characters list, but after this I might write for him too! Sorry for deleting the last one and then posting this again but I get really anxious when like, i have a plan and then it doesn’t go as I wanted so here it is...again BUT at 10pm east hour 😌

Sorry for the long wait ANON but here it is. Hope you like it!

Yamaguchi Tadashi x f!Reader

Summary: he is very subtle with his feelings but it’s really hard to hide them when his crush is Karasuno’s sweetheart, in the other hand, you are not familiar with the butterflies in your stomach

Genre: fluff, a little angst but mostly fluff

WC~2,3K

“Karasuno’s heartbreaker” that’s how they called you. You really didn’t want to sound mean to them, but the boys�� insistence bothered every fiber of your body. So, when you noticed that third-year walking in your direction, holding a cute bento-box, you ran.

“Oh, I’m so sorry”, the boy with freckles and a little aerial on his hair says as his cheeks tint red when he notices you. You, the sweetheart of Karasuno just bumped into his chest “Are you– “

Your tongue sticks out catching your breath as you look at the tall boy you just crashed against.

“It doesn’t matter–“ ,  you hear multiple steps turning around the corner and your eyes fanatically search for a spot to hide, noticing just now his black jacket, “Freckles! You are from the volleyball club, right?”

“Y-Yes”

“Let me hide in the gym. PLEASE. Only for ten minutes”

“I–Only people from the club can enter”

“Just five minutes, okay?” the way your eyes become big and puffy kills any resistance he had left. He nods nervously before walking to the gym’s door, followed closely by your figure.

You scan him curiously. ‘Is he a first year?’ He’s really tall for that, but you don’t remember seeing him in any of your classes. ‘Maybe he is in advanced classes?’

The moment you cross the doors, all stares are over you. Two second-years freeze in the spot while a tall blonde looks at you with confusion as his eyes slightly widen. You recognize two first years, Kageyama and Hinata, who turn bright red as they see you standing in the entrance with an embarrassed little smile.

“Don’t mind me. I’m just–

“IS THAT Y/N-san??”

“I think she is Ryu!! This is our lucky day!!”

“Yamguchi, since when are you friends with her?” the blonde says, not crossing eyes with you

“I’m not, but–“

“Don’t worry, I’ll leave as soon as I can”

“W-We can teach you play Y/N-san!”, Hinata comes at you, bouncing, making you take a few steps back, “Stay, Please!–”

Your feet slip in the steps and you lose your balance only for a fraction of second, but Yamaguchi’s hand is quick grabbing your forearm. His hold on you is gently and the moment he notices it, he releases you just as quick.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to t-touch you like that” you move away a little, still shocked by the loudness of the situation, shaking slightly your head.

“Thank you actually. I just need some sp–”

Before anyone else can approach you, a third-year girl moves in front of you, extending her arms protectively.

“Stay back, you’re scaring her”, just when you were about to thank her, you see behind your shoulder multiple boys approaching the gym, and without exchanging a word, she  pushes you further into the gym, and closes the door with a loud thud.

“Thank you so much…”

“Shimizu”

“I–sorry for coming in like that” you whisper, “Can I stay here until they leave, please?”, you gaze at the third-years, pleading.

“Please, please let her stay Daichi-san”

“Please! It’s Y/N L/N-san!”

They share a brief smile before welcoming you. So, in an attempt of making yourself useful, you start helping Kiyoko with her duties. Your eyes casually drift to the court and the moment you see them playing, your mouth opens wide.

“Amazing right?”

“I’ve never seen an actual match before…It’s– really impressive”, Kiyoko smiles at you before speaking again

“Have you joined any club activity?”

///

The cold air of the night shakes your hair as you close the gyms doors, wearing the volleyball club’s jacket. You wrap your arms around yourself at the coldness as you turn down Noya and Tanaka’s offer to carry your bags to walk you home.

“Thank you, but you both live, like, in the opposite side of the town”

As the boys leave with puppy eyes, you catch the sight of a little brown aerial turning around the corner.

“Freckles, are you going home?”

“Oh. Hi, Y/N”, he stops instantly and turns to you, “No, sorry. I’m gonna practice some more serves. You live in the house, crossing the street, right?

He turns red, replaying the words in his head as his eyes go blank.

“I-I’ve seen you walking to school a few times. Not that I watch you constantly–Sorry!”, you bit your lip holding back a chuckle, his shyness making your eyes soften.

“Can I go with you? I could go alone honestly but my parents would kill me if they saw me arriving home at this hour without company”

“ I’m gonna practice for at least one more hour, are you okay with that?” ‘An extra hour besides his regular training??!!’

“I kinda don’t have a choice, so yes”, he frowns as you reach for your back, placing it across your shoulder before zipping your jacket and giving a light nod to begin your walk.

He doesn’t ask you to let him carry your bag, he have seen how that question had bothered you at least 20 time before. So, he just walks beside you, in silence.

“Hey that’s not the street we were supposed to take” you stop, pointing at the opposite side, “That’s the one to Shimada’s-san store!”

“I know, I’m walking you home first”, you blink and a strange lump settles on your throat, “I can practice later”, a closed-eye smile crosses his face, it is amazing the way your face burns at the effortless cuteness of the first-year.

“But it’s really late already–“

“Oh, I stay until much later! It’s no problem really” ‘Why is he so damn sweet???’

“Fine. Whatever” your mumbles make Yamaguchi’s lips curve up, he looks at you dreamily, you are absolutely gorgeous. That silly nickname doesn’t equal everything you are, and it makes his heart drop to the ground.

Suddenly, you quicken your pace making him take long steps to match yours.

“Come on, Yamaguchi, I don’t want you to blame me for falling asleep in class tomorrow!”

Good thing you’re walking a few steps ahead of him, otherwise you would have seen clear as day his flushed cheeks shining under the moon.

///

That was the very only walk you had alone with Yamaguchi, but even though he was always around Tsuki, you promised yourself you would cope with the middle blocker, so you didn’t have to walk alone. From being just teammates, you started calling them friends.

The sun is falling on the horizon, a mix of orange and red painting the sky as Karasuno’s volleyball club left the gym where they just had a long practice match.

“Oi! The pretty manager! Wait!”

Your foot just landed on the step of the bus, when three boys from the other team come at you. Yamaguchi is behind you, waiting for you to step in when you turn back, sighing.

“Hey. I’m about to leave so I’m sorry–

“Aww, sweetheart, don’t be like this”, the boy eyes you from to toe to head, making Yamaguchi frown at him but then, when he looks at your face, your sweet smile turning into a dangerous grin, he just backs away, “I only want your phone number”

There is a little pause and Yamaguchi can feel his features relaxing, understanding you are in total control. He had watched you closely, not with obsessive stares but with subtle glances here and there, picking up your gestures and actions. Not noticing, how strong his crush on you was getting.

“Oh, but why on earth would I do that?”, you look so cute but there is nothing cute in the words you spit at them, it makes Yamaguchi gulp harshly. ‘Maybe you learnt too well from Tsuki’.

Noya and Tanaka were already running his sleeves up getting off the bus when they heard you, becoming statues.

“I mean, you don’t seem like the kind of guy I’ll date so- No. I’m tired and I want to go home” you say, swaying your hips as you enter the bus, “Are you coming Yamaguchi?”

“Y-Yeah!”

You drop your weight on an empty seat as Yamaguchi searches for another spot without luck. He looks at the seat next to you with nervousness, not wanting to bother you.

“You can sit here, you know? You can’t stay up the whole ride, can you?”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable”

“Why would you?” you quirk an eyebrow at him, smiling as you see the soft redness spreading on his cheeks, “I’m messing with you, Tadashi! Just sit”

And as a soldier listening to a command, he sits.

He watches you as you take out your earbuds and plug them in, scrolling down your playlists.

“Did the album you were waiting come out?”, he points shyly his finger at your phone, making you blink as you turn to him

“I-Yes! How do you know I was waiting for it?”

“Uhm–I remember you said that last week”, you fight vigorously the red that threatens your cheeks with fake coughs, “I-I didn’t mean to overhear you, I swear!

“No-no. It’s not that. It’s just–guys don’t usually listen to me, not really anyways. It’s nice knowing someone does”

A comfortable silence settles in as you brush the butterflies in your stomach away before turning to him, eyes glistening with a little mishief.

“That guy was SO annoying!!”, you sigh, “I’m sure Noya and Tanaka would have eaten him alive” you giggle a little before staring at him expectantly for his reaction.

“I–“, his eyes run away from yours before mumbling softly, “I don’t think you needed someone to protect you, your presence itself is…overwhelming–In the best way possible!”

Tsuki turns his head to where you both are siting, sighing, when he sees two blushing messes sinking in the seats.

“I mean if he kept insisting, of course I would do–something!” you feel again that weird knot in the pit of your stomach and without thinking you unplug one of your earbuds.

“Want to listen with me?”

“yes”, Yamaguchi just feel as if he is the luckiest guy in the world and he wants to enjoy every minute of it, but playing five practice sets was tiring

His eyelids grow heavier and his head staggers from right to left as the ride continues, accidentally landing on your shoulder.

“Sorry! I didn’t meant to–“

“D-Don’t worry, I want to sleep too so–“

‘Are you asking to–?’

“You can rest on my shoulder–If you want” you nod shyly causing Yamaguchi to stare at you shocked, he had never seen you this timid.

His brain freezes as he feels the weight of your head falling on his right shoulder, breath almost stoping when you snuggle a little more to find the best position to finally sleep.

“Thank you, Tadashi”, the loudness of his heartbeat nearly doesn’t let him hear your soft whisper.

Finally, he lets his head cautiously fall on top of yours as if he was scared to mess a single strand of your hair but not before he had taken the sight of you. Your face looked almost angelical as the sunlight poured throght the window onto your features, your breath slowing down continuously.

Yamaguchi truly never had felt this lucky.

///

Since then, you realized you did have feelings for the pinch server and even though he showed a little smile and a light blush now and then, you didn’t know if he felt the same. It was unknown to you that his chest brimmed with nervousness and excitement every time he was in your presence.  

You’ve never felt this anxious before, and watching the cute, blushing exchanges between Yamaguchi and Yachi only made it worst. This time, Yachi almost passed away when a volleyball landed right next to her, Yamaguchi was quick getting the first-aid kit and sitting next to her. A bright red in both of their faces as he touched her hand, searching her pulse, making your eyes roll.

You hated going alone to the storage room, but you hated much more the ongoing scene in the gym.

Dust gets in your lungs, causing you to cough violently as you search for an old net in one of the shelves.

“Why nobody cleans this??”

“Y/N, do you need help?”

The moment you hear Yamaguchi’s voice you huff.

“No. I’m fine”

“But you can fall, Y/N. Let me reach that for you”

“Just let me do it!” you turn way too quickly to face him, losing your balance on the chair, falling forward.

Yamaguchi is fast grabbing your waist, but gravity had already pull you down by the time his hands secure you. Your chest crashes with his as your eyes close, his back landing with a loud thump over the wooden floor.

When you open your eyes again, your lips are on top of his. Yamaguchi’s eyes are still tightly shut, and you take the moment to feel his lips

‘Incredibly soft’.

You drift your stare from his lips to his face, his freckles almost disappearing for the shade of red that tints his cheeks. He is just so pretty!

“SORRY, Y/N!!” he moves his head away not giving you time to react, detaching his lips form yours.

“You didn’t like it?”

“I–Of course I did”

“Then why did you pull back–

“Y/N–

“No! Really, Tadashi, tell me. Just tell me you like Yachi, already!”, he blinks in confusion, his heartbeat hammers his ears as he feels numb by the words you’re about to say, “I like you Tadashi”

“But you’re out of my reach. I like you so much, but why would you–“, you grab his face with both of your hands, the urge to feel him, overwhelming you as you gaze at him overflowed by confidence

“Shut up and kiss me, Yamaguchi” you’re still on top of him and his hands find its way to your waist as you press him against you. The kiss is filled with your eagerness and soon is follow by Yamaguchi’s softness and tenderness, a little moan escapes his lips, making you smile.

The door opens for a second only to show Tsuki with disgust all over his face before he disappears again, causing you to break the kiss. His shy eyes look at you and pepper his beautiful freckles with kisses for reassurance.

“Don’t ever put yourself down in front of me Tadashi, ever”

A/N: I promise, now I’m gonna work in the event :3 Hopefully I can publish some of them in the next week, I have more math presentations xd

❀ Please reblog if you like it! ❀

♡Thanks for reading ♡

@kouffee-ink

↳ ∴ Master List ∴

[thosewickedlovelies]

Into the Woods: chapter 1  |  Frankie Morales x GN!Reader

Summary: Neither you nor Frankie are expecting to run into anyone in the middle of the woods.

Tags: none!! all audiences!

Word Count: 3,054

Note: HE’S HERE!!! Please enjoy the official first installment of the outdoors insta frankie series 🌳📷😍 So much love to the wonderful @yoditorian for coming up with this concept and Frankie’s IG name, and also helping me brainstorm 💗💗💗

Backstory

---

Francisco Morales loves this shit. Walking for hours without seeing another soul, nothing to think about but where to place his feet on the path ahead of him. Assuming he’s following a path at all. These are his woods- the country surrounding the house he’s lived in for years, a place just shy of isolated from the nearest town. They’re not really his, legally. He’s not exactly sure what the rules of land designation entail, but it’s not a national park, and no one has ever chased him up about the occasional wood-chopping or campfire-building he does.

So he walks.

It’s a damn perfect day for it, too. Brilliantly sunny with a hint of breeze, rustling the greenery around him and carrying the scents of sun-warmed leaves and late summer flowers. The birds are in high spirits, their vibrant chirping filling the air with chatter. Screeches of alarm, sometimes, too- a side effect of hiking with a giant energetic dog. Frankie watches ruefully as Oso crashes off into the undergrowth again, doubtless chasing down some poor creature.

He slows his pace to wait for her, taking the opportunity for a water break. His heavy pack thuds to the ground. Frankie grunts as he stretches, rotating his shoulders and flapping his sweaty t-shirt away from his back. I should really hike along the river more often, he muses. He doesn’t mind working up a sweat (obviously), but a ready supply of cool water during a long hike does wonders for one’s well-being.

“Boof!” Oso’s deep bark as she returns brings Frankie’s attention to her.

“Yeah? Would you like that, too? A nice swim in the river to cool you down?” He crouches to ruffle her neck fur the way she likes. Oso only pants in answer, blinking at him adoringly.

She slurps thirstily as Frankie pours some water from his bottle into her mouth. He chuckles. “Don’t worry, Osita, we’ll be near some water soon.”

Their goal today is a small pond Frankie had only found earlier this year. It’s a good spot for his campfire cooking, as well as endlessly photogenic. This is marginally important to him, as he attempts to keep a regular diary of his wanderings through instagram. It’s mostly for fun, but like anyone else, he isn’t immune to the particular buzz from his posts unexpectedly getting a high number of likes.

But he had also discovered that he wasn’t the only one with this hobby. There were whole communities of people out there who found peace the same way he did, and they happily gave advice if ever he posted about a struggle.

Frankie pauses again a short way away from the pond to make sure he’s on course. Oso sniffs around excitedly, bounding off again while Frankie checks his GPS. “Huh.” Looking around, he laughs at himself a little when it tells him he’s almost walked past it. He rotates to his left and thinks he spots the telltale gap in the trees ahead. He tucks the GPS away.

Oso barks from somewhere ahead of him. A split second later, a human yelp sounds from the same direction. His eyes widen.

“Shit!” Frankie breaks into a run. In all the years he’s been out here, he rarely sees other people this far from the trails. “Oso!” he yells. “Here, girl!”

Oso isn’t aggressive (unless the situation warrants it), but whatever new friend she thinks she’s meeting won’t know that. Frankie races toward where he judges the noise came from, heart pounding. He bursts through some bushes and is almost knocked down by his beast jumping up to greet him.

“Hey, girl, who was- no!” Oso peels away again across a bit of clear ground, her collar slipping through Frankie’s fingers. He’s barreling toward where her tail wags from behind a bush, when you stand.

Frankie skids to a stop so abruptly his feet slide out from under him. His ass hits the ground with a thud, his rucksack taking only part of the fall. He scrambles upright gracelessly, clumsy with the weight on his back, never taking his eyes off of you.

You stare at each other.

Nothing about this moment feels real to Frankie- you could announce that you’re the dryad who rules this forest and he would believe you, that’s how unlikely your appearance is. Shifting sunbeams dapple your skin, and even from several feet away he can tell that you have the most striking eyes he’s ever seen.

For a second your gaze flicks down to the side. You lean slightly as if something has nudged you, and as you move your hand away from it Frankie realizes you’re holding something.

Shit. He returns to his senses. Is that a weapon?

He’s met people on the trails before, most of them harmless fellow hikers. But occasionally there are some with weird vibes, especially the farther away from the paths you got. He’s fully capable of defending himself, but that doesn’t mean he wants to have to.

“Oso! Here!” Frankie says sternly. Your expression doesn’t change as you watch the dog trot over to him. Jaw set, wide eyes tracking his every motion.

He supposes he can’t blame you for being wary. Or armed. It’s a perfectly reasonable response to running into a strange man in the middle of the woods. He knows he’s not exactly the picture of reassurance. Tall and broad, probably too sweaty to believably claim he’s on a casual hike. He decides to speak.

“Sorry to startle you.” Frankie keeps his hands by his sides where you can see them, resting one on Oso’s head. “I wasn’t expecting to see anyone this far from the trails.”

Your tense stance doesn’t relax. “Me either.”

His head tips to the side. “Do you come to this area regularly, then?” He tries to keep his voice slow and soothing.

He can see you assessing him, trying to measure how safe he is. “I have been recently. What about you?”

“All the time. Me and Oso take nice long walks.” Frankie pats the dog’s head in a more formal introduction. “I like to come out here and cook.” Your brow furrows at that, bemusement appearing amidst your guarded features. Before you can respond, he prompts “What are you doing this far off the main paths?”

“Foraging. You come all the way out here to cook?” Disbelief is etched in every line of your face.

Well, when you say it like that.

Foraging. That makes perfect sense. Frankie follows a few of them on instagram. He’s always pleased when he notices the more obvious edible plants and berries, but it’s not usually his focus. His vegetable garden at home takes up most of his efforts. It’s managed to thrive in the years since he started it after leaving the army, and it’s become a source of pride for him to be able to wander out, pick some things for the day’s meal, and head right into the woods.

“Yeah,” he responds. “Here, I can show you. I keep an instagram.”

Your eyebrows rise even higher at that.

Moving slowly and watching for your reaction, Frankie holds his hands up as he turns, keeping one in the air while the other makes a show of tugging his phone from a side pocket of his pack. He keeps the screen visible as he opens the app, then pulls his arm back in the beginning of an underhanded throw. Poised as such, he looks at you expectantly.

Now you’re almost frowning. Clearly still suspicious, but possibly fractionally less concerned about danger from a man willing to give his phone to a complete stranger in the woods. Hesitantly, you raise your hands to catch it.

Finally Frankie can make out that the thing in your hand in a canister of mace. The sight inexplicably relieves him. Pepper spray is a normal person’s defense, something that anyone might carry to help themselves feel safe. Far from the kind of weapon he would fear from someone angling for true violence.

All of this decided in the space of a second, Frankie gently tosses you his phone.

--

You’re so distracted by delighting in the prolific blackberry bushes which surround your pond that you don’t hear the approaching creature until it’s upon you.

You screech in shock at the massive fur-thing’s appearance, bowling you over from your crouch. It doesn’t seem bothered about wanting you to pet it, only wiggling and sniffing at you enthusiastically. You register the collar around its neck at the same you hear the shout.

“Oso!” That must be its name. “Here, girl!” The dog dashes away, then back, clearly torn about leaving her new friend so soon.

Icy adrenaline douses your system. That was a man’s voice, rough and cavernous. Who knows what kind of person he could be, no matter the earnestness of his dog? Your hands shake as you rip open your bag for the canister of mace you’ve never had to use.

There’s a pronounced rustle and then his voice sounds again, terrifyingly close. “Hey, girl, who was- no!”

Shit. The dog is back, looking at you eagerly, rear in the air and tail wagging like this is an exciting game. You have to choose a course of action quickly. Twisting the safety off the pepper spray, you rise to your feet.

His reaction is almost funny; you think you might have laughed if this was literally any other scenario. Like a cartoon character slipping on a banana peel, the man wrenches himself to a stop with such force his feet fly up from the ground. The contents of his bulging pack crunch against the earth, but he barely seems to notice he’s fallen, keeping his eyes on yours the entire time he cycles back to his feet.

You stare at each other.

That’s a man all right. Towering even from this distance, with wide shoulders that help the impression. His eyes are round and stunned, the cap on his head knocked slightly askew and freeing sweat-dark curls to spring around his ears.

Your first thought is that he looks warm. Not temperature warm, although the gleam of sweat on his neck confirms that, too. But approachable warm. There’s a softness to his body that belies the muscle his motions highlight, creases around his eyes that wrinkle brown like tree bark in the sun.

Then his dog noses your thigh, reminding you that you have pepper spray in your hand because you’re in the middle of the damn woods with a potentially threating stranger. You risk a half-second glance down to move the canister away from her face.

You regard the man with stony distrust, fear flushing your face and neck with heat. Confrontation makes the blood roar in your ears, but it gradually quiets as he orders the creature away from you. For several more seconds the only sound is rustling leaves.

He clears his throat. “Sorry to startle you,” he says. “I wasn’t expecting to see anyone this far from the trails.”

His voice doesn’t sound as harsh now that he’s not frantically shouting for his dog. Still you keep your answer short. “Me either.”

His head tilts inquisitively. “Do you come to this area regularly, then?”

That’s a fair question. He has a right to be curious too. “I have been recently. What about you?”

“All the time. Me and Oso take nice long walks.” The man pats her head, and the dog’s ears perk up. “I like to come out here and cook.” Wait, what? Before you have a chance to process that, he continues. “What are you doing this far off the main paths?”

You won’t be deterred. “Foraging. You come all the way out here to cook?” If this is some elaborate murder setup, that’s not a very plausible lie.

“Yeah,” he answers. “Here, I can show you. I keep an instagram.”

You’re slightly more skeptical than fearful now. You watch silently as the man turns in place, putting the side of his backpack in your line of sight so you can see him fish his phone out. He makes his actions slow and obvious. The white background of an instagram page glows on the screen as he retracts his arm in a throwing pose. Clear eyes meet yours.

What? This guy is just going to...give you his phone, no questions asked? Taken aback, you can feel the deep grooves of a frown between your eyebrows as you consider.

You’re hesitant to reveal the pepper spray, but if there’s still some possibility this is a trick, he might second-guess attacking you if he sees you’re armed. You ready yourself for a catch.

Which you accomplish, easily, his toss landing the phone right in your hands. The dog lurches forward, but this time man has a grip on her collar and she’s forced to halt with a whine.

“Sorry, girl. We’re not playing fetch right now, okay? Sit!” The man doesn’t even seem concerned with monitoring you, looking down seriously at his dog as he speaks.

You keep one eye on them as you turn your attention to the screen. Frankieintheforest, reads the username at the top of the page. Just a guy out in the woods, continues his bio. Well, that’s accurate, anyway. Frankie, huh? You spare him another glance, matching various features of him to the ones in his photos. A broad hand here, sturdy hiking boots there. Several glimpses of the same flannel that’s currently tied to the strap of his backpack. His face in a few group shots. You click on an image which shows Oso parading around a yard with a grinning toddler on her back. “Ferocious beast carries away yet another victim,” quips the caption. An involuntary smile tugs at the corner of your mouth.

There are too many photos going too far back for it to be fake. You turn the screen toward him. “Cute kid,” you comment. “Is she yours?”

His eyebrows lift in surprise. “No,” the man half laughs. “My buddy’s. I’m just the godfather.” A small smile softens his face as he takes in the picture.

Being named godfather was nothing to sneeze at. You study the man carefully, keeping your face neutral. He seems genuine, his dog keen and friendly. Dogs were a good judge of character, right? Indicative of the character of their owner? He hasn’t demanded anything from you, not done anything threatening beyond just being here.

You glance between him and the phone again. “Frankie?” you question.

He raises one hand in a wave, directing a crooked sort of smile at you. “That’s me,” Frankie confirms.

You offer him your name in return. “Uh, you can have this back now.” You gesture with the phone.

He brings his hands up to catch it, and you thank every deity you know of when your throw connects. You’re at a bit of a loss for what to do next, however. You suppose this means you’re at a truce. But you still don’t think you’d be able to let yourself focus on foraging while knowing there’s a stranger wandering so nearby.

Frankie seems to be thinking the same thing. One hand rubs over the back of his neck. “Well,” he begins. “My plans for today were to sit by this pond and cook over a fire.” He points his thumb to the right, where not far away the reflection of sunlight on water wavers against the tree trunks.

“You can join me if you want.” He shrugs awkwardly. “I’m just gonna collect some tinder and then park it, so you don’t have to worry about me interrupting your foraging or anything.”

Oso finally wriggles free of his grasp and surges forward, leaping across to you with a triumphant woof! “Oso, no!” Frankie stumbles after her, only to stop after two steps, clearly unwilling to make you uncomfortable by getting too close. He looks on helplessly, hands flexing.

“It’s okay,” you assure him. This time you offer her your free hand to sniff, which she does, before promptly shoving her head beneath it for pets. Amused, you comply. Her multi-hued fur is soft beneath your fingers.

“You’re alright, aren’t you, Oso?” You dart a self-conscious glance back up to her owner, but he appears content to let you coo at his dog.

“She’s a good judge of character,” Frankie says simply.

You swallow. Those deep brown eyes linger over you, and this is all just a bit...much. “Right. Well. I’m just going to…” you ease back, hoping to convey ‘continue going about your business.’

“Oh, sure!” He takes a little hop backward. “I’ll be...here.” His hand makes a small circling motion to indicate a limited nearby area. “You’ll hear me before you see me. Or Oso.”

Frankie frowns slightly as if something has occurred to him. “Uh, she might want to follow you around today though. I can tie her to a tree if that would bother you? I don’t usually watch her too closely,” he admits sheepishly.

“Oh, that’s okay.” You realize that you mean it as your thoughts continue to form. “She’ll make for good protection if I meet any more big scary strangers.” You aim the last words down to the dog herself, sending a wry a sidelong glance to said stranger.

He chuckles again, a rasp of a sound like creaking branches. “That’s fair. But I meant it when I said I’ve never seen anyone else in this particular area. You’re pretty safe.” He punctuates his statement with a nod to the canister still in your hand, soft understanding clear in his face.

Your head ducks slightly. “Well,” you say again. ”I’ll..see you around. I guess.” You don’t wait for a farewell, turning to foist your pack back onto your shoulder. You strain your ears for any noise behind you as you flee, but there’s no sound of pursuit.

“Go ahead. Have fun, Oso,” Frankie calls, already at a distance from your quick pace. There’s a distinctly animal scurrying, and then the dog bursts into being by your side.

Your arms wheel as you jump. “Jeez, you are enormous,” you mumble, pausing to pet her again. Discreetly you look over your shoulder in time to see Frankie turn away from you, heading for your pond.

--

Post note: I know pepper spray is like, super illegal in the UK and other places, but it’s not abnormal to carry around in the US so just pretend it’s fine.

Taglist: @thirstworldproblemss, @leonieb, @computeringturtle

[hi-hey-haechan]

I woke up to discover that this post was not showing up in the tags. I’M SO MAD. I HATE WHEN THIS HAPPENS.

The ask was roughly along the lines of “Can we just shortly imagine how hot it would be to have Haechan finger you? His fingers are so long, but he’s also such a tease. Please, I need an imagine for that.”

Fun fact: The small plot behind this story actually came from a video I saw. It was JSMR, but the camera was only focused on his hands. Also, thanks to that video and this headcanon, I now kind of sort of maybe have a small thing for hands...

“May I take your coat?” Donghyuck asked to the orange he was peeling.

You heard that statement without the visual for context. In turn, you looked up, confused. Sitting across from your boyfriend at the kitchen table, wearing your (his) hoodie, you furrowed your eyebrows. The hoodie barely counted as a coat...

Your eyes widened at the sudden realization. He was talking to the freaking orange, the “coat” being a reference to its peel, which he was removing.

“You’re a really weird person, but this is among one of the stranger things you’ve done,” you laughed.

Now it was Donghyuck’s turn to look confused. His head snapped upward, causing his hair, which was growing longer everyday (much to your delight) to bounce at the sudden disturbance. “What? Being polite to an orange?” His voiced feigned innocence and shock.

“Is that what you call it?”

“Do you not talk to your citruses as you’re peeling them?” Both of you were probably sharing bewildered expressions. However, you could see through the act Donghyuck was putting up by the way the corners of his mouth quirked upward, trying to tug his lips into a smile. It was cute, you decided -- his weirdness, his adorable tendencies, all of it.

“Does the politeness make them taste better?” you grinned, playing along.

“Of course! Now, you’re getting it!”

You rolled your eyes while an affectionate smile remained on your face. The two of you returned to silence, and your eyes flickered to the orange.

His long fingers gently removed the peel. They were the same fingers that were delicate as they touched your skin, both lovingly and tenderly, as though you were fragile. At the same time, his digits could create a harsh, rapid dance across the keyboard on his laptop, aggressively playing video games with his friends. Donghyuck’s hands weren’t particularly veiny, but the bones in his hands visibly branched out to the fingers. You found yourself looking at them often, even when you hadn’t intended to. Donghyuck would never let you hear the end of it if his hands and fingers, of all things, could catch your attention. His slender fingers, which were much longer than yours, possessed their own grace as they moved.

Once the coat peel had been removed, he slowly began to separate the individual slices of orange. You watched this closely, too, observing how his fingers bent and hands flexed as he followed through with such a simple action. In addition to this, you were trying to convince yourself that the act of observing his hands was just your ability to admire the beauty of simple actions.

Yet you couldn’t ignore one of the greatest things his hands could do, besides perhaps hold your own. You looked at his long, slender, fingers and thought about how well they could coax orgasm after orgasm out of you. They could reach deep inside of you, further than your own fingers could ever reach, and curled at the spot that had you arching your back and crying out his name. His thumb could rub harshly at your sensitive clit simultaneously. At this point, you’d be nothing but putty, telling him to keep curling his fingers right there, right fucking there, until you hurtled to your next high, practically in tears from the pleasure.

You mentally swore when the ache that had awoken in your core pulled you back to reality. Watching him peel a freaking orange had somehow turned you on, which baffled you. The power he managed to hold over you was still shocking.

His hand lifted to bring the orange slice to his mouth. His eyes raised, too, meeting yours. However, before you tore your gaze away, you knew he’d caught your stare lingering on his hands. “Can I help you?” Donghyuck inquired, and you swore you could catch a teasing lilt to his words. He finally ate the fraction of the fruit.

“I was just wondering if it actually tastes better, as you said.”

“Of course it does. Then again, it’s admittedly a placebo, but we can ignore that.” He grabbed an orange off the plate and handed it to you.

Your eyes dropped to the slice, but you focused on his digits, possessing their own type of beauty, which was somehow enough to make your core gush with arousal, though you’d never admit it.

A few seconds too late to not seem suspicious, you, too, ate the orange slice, which tasted exactly the same as any other orange, as expected.

When you looked back at Donghyuck, he lifted the pad of his thumb to meet his lips, a movement your eyes shamelessly followed, not expecting him to be watching the entire time. Only when you saw his lips curl into a smirk did you finally meet his eyes.

“Damn, it only took an orange for me to expose your hand kink.” Yep, he was definitely teasing you this time. Your mouth kind of fell open as you tried to come up with an answer, amidst the feeling of your face burning, core aching, and mind blanking. “Next time when I’m on tour, and you miss me, I’ll make sure I send you a video of me doing some hand exercises, and that will really get you riled up.”

“Fine,” you huffed, “you have nice hands. Now put them to good use.”

Before you knew it, you were completely naked, lying on the bed, with Donghyuck’s fingers barely brushing up and down the soft, sensitive skin of your stomach. Every time he got to the bottom, you unsuccessfully forced yourself to not shudder under his touch. Goosebumps prickled up and down your skin. For a brief moment, his fingers dipped even lower, pressing against your swollen clit. You let out a small gasp.

“Stop teasing me.” You attempted to make it sound like an order, though your voice came out as a wavering sort of beg.

Your boyfriend dragged his fingers down further, moving once over your slit. Gently, he traced over your folds, circling, but never quite touching where you needed him most. Occasionally, he’d bump a knuckle or finger tip against your clit, which could send sparks of pleasure throughout your entire being. “You’re so wet from just looking at my fingers? I mean, I knew I was attractive, but if just my hands can have this effect on you, then you must be horny around me 24/7 from just looking at me.” He slowly circled your opening, knowing how much you needed him, but he refused to give in.

“Goddamn it, Donghyuck, if you don’t finger me right now, I -- oh,” you were cut off by your own soft moan as a result of him finally giving your neglected clit some attention. He circled the bud at a decent pace, but his touch wasn’t light, either. You were already so sensitive, due to how riled up you were, no doubt.

“You want me to finger you?” he asked in a condescending tone, “you mean like this?” His fingertips glided lower, dragging through your wet folds once again. A little whine left your lips, and you bucked your hips helplessly into the light touch. Your core was aching, pounding with heat, and you needed relief, which Donghyuck seemed to refuse to give to you. He dipped a finger in, slightly, just enough for one segment of his finger to really be inside of you.

A frustrated groan left your lips, and you were a bit shocked to hear how close it was to a sob. “Please,”  you finally begged, knowing the pleas were what he wanted to hear the most. You were far past caring at this point, the tight string in the bottom of your stomach needing serious relief.

When two of his fingers immediately entered without so much as a warning, your hands balled up the sheets as you cried out in pleasure. He took his sweet time, carefully scissoring you open. His fingers slowly dragged out of you before plunging back in, earning a quiet, involuntary moan from your lips. You could hear how wet you were, with his fingers squelching at just the slightest motion. At least you were too far past the point of caring.

With two of his fingers fully sheathed inside of you, Donghyuck’s fingers bent at the knuckles, curling them against the spot that made you see stars. Your back arched up off the bed, and you legitimately whined, no longer able to control the sounds that came out of your mouth.

Would he tease you about how much you liked his hands, in the future? Yes. But at the same time, you could say something about how he was getting off to using this to his advantage. You looked him, who was sitting between your legs, which were draped over his. Donghyuck’s body was facing you, and his fingers were pumping in and out of you at an unrushed pace. Your stare soon dropped to the obvious bulge in his jeans. If his free hand wasn’t braced against your thigh, he’d be palming himself through his pants, clearly turned on by the sounds that spilled past your lips and the actual situation itself, which was indeed quite erotic.

You felt every inch of his long fingers drag against your tight and slick walls. As your stomach knotted up at every curl of his fingers, you grinded yourself down further, needing more and more still. You fell into a bit of a rhythm, fucking yourself onto his fingers.

When your eyes moved up to Donghyuck’s face, the smirk he gave you told you that he knew exactly what he was doing to you. Every small force back onto his hand, every whine when he hit exactly where you needed him to -- every single thing you did, he saw, and clearly understood. So when he pummeled his fingers rapidly in and out of you, quickly changing the pace, the pleasure written across your features told him everything you were feeling.

At the change of pace, you cried out, completely shocked at the new pace and feeling. The heat that clenched at the bottom of your stomach became more intense, and you felt your walls helplessly spasm around him. “I’m so close, shit,” you managed to say.

And in the next instant, his fingers were completely gone. Your walls pounded around nothing, the emptiness of your core and roaring of your lust causing you to almost shout in frustration.

“Donghyuck, what the hell?” you asked him, feeling your orgasm fade away. “I was so close.”

“Sounds like a you problem. If you want my fingers so bad, then just say so.”

“I swear, you little shit, if you don’t--”

“Oh, are you threatening me, now?” he asked, his voice mockingly offended. “It’s your loss, not mine. I’m not the one who wants to cum on my oh-so-beautiful fingers, and clearly, neither are you.”

You sighed, easily defeated. “Please make me--” to cut off your sentence, he inserted three fingers, pushing deeply until he reached the hilt of his digits. Three was a stretch, despite the fact that you were so wet to the point that your juices were dripping down Donghyuck’s hand.

A swear was ripped from you, and your head was thrown back into the pillow, eyes shut in pure ecstasy. His fingers were curling like crazy, opening you up and making you see stars, At the same time, his thumb ran harsh circles on your clit, constantly causing your legs to shake.

“Make you what?” he inquired innocently, as though his fingers weren’t exactly playing the part.

“Make me cum, please, I’m so close, please,” you begged, attitude gone with your composure.

And his fingers thrusted faster, the room full of the sounds of your wetness and the varying sounds of your cries and pleas. The knot in your stomach curled and uncurled, heat pooling in that same area. Your legs quaked, toes curled, and walls wildly clenched and collapsed as you came around his long and slender digits, crying out his name, which you knew, in the end, was exactly what he wanted. He worked you gently through your high, making it last, but not overstimulating you. You’d cum hard enough once, and he wasn’t going to force you to do it again.

“Now, my beautiful hands, were they everything you were dreaming about?” His condescending grin was back. He wasn’t even wrong, either, for his fingers literally gave you one of the best orgasms of your life.

“I hate you, you know that? And clearly, making me fall apart had an effect on you, too,” you said. You forced yourself into a sitting position, leaning forward and resting a heavy hand on his painfully hard, still-clothed cock. When a whine passed Donghyuck’s lips, it was your turn to smirk. He wasn’t the only one who could tease like that.

[transthaumaturge]

Squirrel Girl is Super Gay for her Roommate and I Want Everyone to Know

A gay infodump of sensible length by Rachel Tikvah

ALRIGHT, SO The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl was the very first comic that I ever read regularly, back when I was looking for more stories with strong female protagonists but didn't really know why. Back then I just thought I really liked strong female characters and not that I was being gay on main, but now I know the truth. The comic had a 5-year run, and it was the first time that Squirrel Girl, AKA Doreen Green, had had her own series. She had a brief run in the mid-2000's where she was established as someone who could beat up Thanos with her bare hands well, more like squirrel hands but was mostly a joke character that happened to be incredibly buff and had indestructible plot armor. USG decided that Doreen's next major life goal would be to enroll in college to become a computer scientist, because her writer, Ryan North, is really into computer science and they basically gave him free rein over Squirrel Girl canon for five whole years. Like, a solid third of the plots are solved with some kind of computer science smarts. It’s really cool. Anyway this is Doreen in one of the gayest solo pictures I could find of her on short notice, which is also one of the variant covers from the actual series:

And this is her college roommate, Nancy Whitehead:

I'm like, 99% certain that Ryan North intended for them to end up as a couple and Disney!Marvel told him no. So he decided to make them AS GAY FOR EACH OTHER AS POSSIBLE without explicitly saying that they were a couple, and it ended up going under the radar. What follows is evidence for that claim. I’m going to put a "read more” after this so it doesn’t clutter everyone’s dashboards, but please read on if you’re interested. There’s a lot of cute gayness after this point. I’m also going to put all of the image descriptions at the end, since they take up a lot of space and I don’t want to break up the flow of the post. Finally, a quick spoiler alert for one arc in the middle of the series and a couple major plot points from the final few issues.

AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES

So for a while it was just kind of hinted at that they’re in a relationship, mostly because they were basically domestic life partners for like, two whole years in-universe before the comic run ended. But it really came to a head with an arc that was ran about 2/3 of the way through the series. Some pictures of them being, like, so cute together in general and/or talking about how much they care about each other before I get to that arc, though: 

Also Doreen describes her and Nancy's cat as "co-parented" in one of the last issues:

ANYWAY, THE ARC. THE HYPERTIME ARC. So one of the villains created for the Squirrel Girl run (I think they liked making weird shit canon just because they could) was a dude who went by the name "EpicCrimez". He’s a crime streamer. He livestreams his crimes to an online audience. I don't know. *Throws up hands*

He had some kind of laser gun that he built out of scavenged alien tech but didn't really know what it did, so he shot it at Doreen and Nancy for kicks. It shot them into hypertime, so suddenly the rest of the world was moving at a fraction of the pace that they were. They were moving so quickly that they were slated to live out their entire lives over the span of a single weekend if they didn't figure out how to reverse the effects. And...they did. Live out their entire lives together. For the two of them, they were the only two people in the world. There were other people, but they looked like statues unless you spent a very long time observing them. Doreen and Nancy grew old together in a world where they only had each other. This is an incredibly cute domestic scene from a little while after they found themselves in hypertime:

Gosh, I wish I could find more official art from that arc of them just living together, it was so good. But the point is, they were both old by the time that Nancy figured out how to get them out of hypertime. And it wasn't ideal. Their bio signatures were stored in the gun that EpicCrimez shot, and they could essentially "reboot" their bodies from when they were first shot and send themselves back into the regular timestream. But they wouldn't remember anything about the life that they had shared together. Nancy almost didn't want to do it. She raised the possibility of them just living out the rest of their lives together, because she didn't want to forget their life together. This is the conversation they had:

"I don't regret any of it. I don't want to lose it, and I don't want to lose us." "You're not getting rid of me that easily." Every time I look at that last picture, which took up an entire page of the comic, I start to cry. We’re seeing the final moments of two people who love each other more than anything, who were each other's entire lives, savoring their last moments together and wondering what the future holds. Sacrificing the life that they built together so that their younger selves could live a better, fuller one. Dying in each other’s arms, scared but comforted by the fact that they had each other. And then the arc ends, and they can't remember anything, so the status quo is restored. They have some paintings they made of each other while they were living together in hypertime, but they move on pretty quickly without ever knowing the significance of those lived decades. Still, it's clear in the arcs that follow and the adventures they embarked on afterward that they would die for each other. All of that continues until the end of the last arc. Their shared apartment's been blown up at this point by a supervillain who wanted to ruin Doreen’s life before eventually killing her. And in the aftermath of the fight, they're sifting through the wreckage for anything that survived (don't worry, the cat got out in time) when they find the picture that they painted of themselves during the hypertime arc:

They have a really cute conversation about how this chapter of their life is over, but they're going to be okay and they're going to build a new life together. And then Nancy basically tells Doreen that she can't live without her:

And then Doreen says something super queer-coded about how she likes the idea of the world knowing her secret identity now:

On the very last page of the comic, after all of the action is over and the series is about to end, they're talking to each other in what's supposed to be a twitter thread and Doreen asks Nancy a very thinly veiled question about whether she still wants to spend time with her now that her identity's out. She pretends it's about a class project, but it's really not about the class project. Here's how that conversation goes:

With no knowledge of what happened during the weekend when they shared their entire lives together, without ever having heard Doreen say it to her before, Nancy’s heart still knows which words to choose. "...you're not getting rid of me that easily. <3" I believe that the author of the series, Ryan North, did as much as he possibly could to portray them as a couple without saying it outright. And as the last piece of evidence to support that claim, I want to share a response he wrote in one of the series' last-ever letter columns:

"as for more Doreen and Nancy, I hope so too. A Squirrel Girl book without Nancy would feel like--like--like some sort of hypothetical "Super" "Man" book without an equally hypothetical "Lois" "Lane"!" It's easy to write off this analysis as wishful thinking, or as a misreading of the subtext. But when the author of the series says that these two characters are meant to always be together and compares them to one of the most famous couples in any comic series ever, it's clear that there's more to it than that. 

Some Additional Thoughts: 1) Doreen and Nancy are both probably bisexual or pansexual, since they both expressed romantic interest in men throughout the series but they’re both clearly interested in each other too. There might be an element of demiromanticism there as well if part of the reason that they’re into each other romantically is because of how emotionally close they’ve become over the years. I want to make sure that that facet of their romantic orientations doesn’t get erased, because bi and pan folks get erased enough as it is. Neither Doreen nor Nancy are lesbians, just super-cool WLWs.

2) HERE’S WHAT THE ISSUE 50 VARIANT COVER LOOKED LIKE

That’s NOT a fun, totally straight way to pose with your platonic gal pal. They’re so incredibly cute together! I have no words! In Closing If you got this far, thank you so much for letting me talk to you about a comic that’s very important to me, and a couple in that comic that I care about very much. I spent way too long making this (six hours and counting), mostly in writing the image descriptions, and I’m very proud of my work but very tired now. Hyperfixation is a hell of a drug. If this resonated with you, please consider reblogging it so that more folks can see it. If not, even a like is nice. I’d also love to engage with people who have their own thoughts, so feel free to leave some comments in the notes if you’ve got an idea/a reaction/any additional cute Doreen/Nancy scenes that you’d like to share with me. At any rate, this post has gone on long enough and I don’t want to ask y’all to read any more than you have to. So have a great day, good morning / afternoon / night, and stay safe. Thanks again for reading! ~Rachel Tikvah, AKA @transthaumaturge Image Descriptions: Image 1: [ID: Squirrel Girl, a young woman with light skin, is posing in front of a brick wall that she seems to have crashed through, leaving a perfect outline of her body. She’s facing away but looking backwards over her shoulder at us and smiling. She’s flexing upward with her right arm and has her left fist resting on her left hip. Her sidekick, a squirrel named Tippy-Toe, is standing in the cutout she left in the wall and is making the same exact pose while wearing a light pink bow around her neck. Squirrel Girl is wearing brown lace-up boots, fur-lined hot pants over grey tights, and a brown fur-lined jacket with sleeves that come up to her forearms and a symbol of an acorn embroidered into the back. She’s also wearing a hairband with fake squirrel ears on it over short reddish-brown hair. She has a large squirrel tail coming out of her hot pants that sweeps down in a curve behind her lower legs. The illustration is drawn so that everything is bathed in the light of a sunset, and Doreen is casting shadows on the wall in front of her.] Image 2: [ID: Two frames depicting a scene between Doreen and Nancy in their college dorm room, with many cardboard boxes still not unpacked and sitting on a bare bed mattress. Nancy Whitehead is a young woman with dark brown skin and short, curly black hair. She's wearing black tights, a white dress-top, and a yellow cardigan over that. Her arms are crossed as she holds her white cat, Mew, against her chest. Doreen is wearing grey tights and a black long-sleeve shirt with a wide collar and white stripes across the chest. She's holding Tippy-Toe up to Nancy with both hands so she can see her better. The following dialogue ensues: Nancy: "A squirrel? But weren't you the one who was all about pets not being allowed in--" Doreen: "Yeah, I know. But this really interesting person I met today told me that obeying an unjust law is itself unjust." Nancy: "...You know, I was worried I'd get a weird roommate, but you're all right, Doreen Green."] Image 3: [ID: Doreen and Nancy are both sitting on a lavender-pink couch in nightclothes. Doreen has short, orange hair. She is wearing a loose-fitting grey long-sleeve shirt and steel-blue cutoff shorts; Nancy has cropped black hair. She is wearing a dark purple top with sleeves that come down to her upper arms, and loose-fitting navy-blue shorts that come down to her lower thighs. Doreen is side-hugging Nancy as she says, with an ecstatically happy smile, “Nancy, you’re the greatest. You know that, right?” Nancy gives Doreen a full smile as she responds, “I’d always suspected it, but it is nice to have it confirmed.”] Image 4: [ID: Nancy is shown from the shoulders up. She has short, curly black hair. She’s wearing large, disc-shaped gold dangle earrings, and a red jacket with prominent shoulders and a yellow collar. She’s fixing the observer with an angry, determined stare as she says, “She knows this man wouldn’t dream about betraying her, or he’d have to answer to me.”] Image 5: [ID: Doreen and Nancy are eating breakfast at the brown, circular kitchen table in their apartment. Doreen’s wearing a skin-tight athletic crop top that’s striped in black, red, white, and blue. Her arm muscles are well-defined and clearly visible as she puts a spoon in her mouth, closing her eyes as she does so. She has a bowl of cereal in front of her, and half a banana in front of that. Nancy is sitting to her left in a pink camisole top that’s also exposing her muscles, scrolling through something on her smartphone. Her hair is in a yellow fabric wrap that’s knotted on one side of her head. A cup of coffee sits in front of her. The clear blue sky is visible through the window centered on the wall behind them.] Image 6: [ID: Nancy and Doreen are facing away from the vantage point, walking towards an Empire State University campus building and holding hands with their fingers intertwined. Nancy is wearing a long knee-length grey coat and black knee-high boots, with a baby-blue side bag hanging from her left shoulder. Doreen is wearing a magenta sweatshirt with the periwinkle-lined hood down, light brown form-fitting denim pants, and black ankle-high boots, with a dark brown side bag hanging from her right shoulder. Trees and bushes hem the walkway in on either side. The building in front of them is dark red, with glass doors and a row of floor-to-ceiling windows on the second floor. Doreen is saying “...we’re just going to have to take the long way around.”] Image 7: [ID: Doreen is facing towards the vantage point and is visible from the legs up, standing in front of a pile of rubble in the background. She’s wearing high-waisted light blue shorts over black tights, and a red windbreaker with sleeves ending at her upper arms that’s opened to reveal a white t-shirt underneath. Tippy-Toe is sitting on her shoulder. There are two people facing Doreen, each slightly in frame and silhouetted in black against the light of the setting sun. Doreen is fixing them with an angry, determined expression, resting her right fist at her hip while she gesticulates with her left hand and says, “So! I don’t know about you all, but Melissa kidnapping my friend and blowing up my life and my house and almost blowing up my co-parented cat makes me feel like giving her a piece of my mind. Friends...”] Image 8: [ID: A full comic page. EpicCrimez is looking like a dork in a green and black skin-tight jumpsuit, bright red ski goggles, and a green wig cap with his brown hair sticking out the back in a mullet. He’s standing inside a jewelry store and holding up a fist of expensive gems and pearls-on-strings as holds up his smartphone and speaks into it. He’s facing off against Squirrel Girl, with her allies Koi Boi and Chipmunk Hunk on her right, and Nancy and Brain Drain on the left. The following scene ensues: EpicCrimez: “And for those of you just tuning in, welcome to another successful heist by your boy EpicCrimez, streaming live! Now with 10% more live crime action than any other streamer! Don’t forget to like and subscribe!! I know some of you in EpicCrimez Nation have been forgetting to do that lately. Not acceptable.” Squirrel Girl: “You picked the wrong small business to rob, crime-initiator! Because this mall is protected by super heroes.” Brain Drain: “HELLO” SG: “And also an unrelated civilian friend I brought along too!” Nancy: (Not looking up from her phone) “ ‘Sup.” EC: “Check it out--Squirrel Girl and her miscellaneous friends are here! It’s action you won’t find on any other channel!” SG: “Are you...streaming your robberies?” (Nancy pockets her phone) EC: “Yeah I am! For money reasons! And with you “heroes” in it, I’ll make even more!” SG: (Whispering to Nancy:) “Question: a fight scene just gets him more traffic, which lets him profit from this crime even more--so does this mean we don’t fight him?” N: (Whispering back:) “I feel like letting him go causes more harm, but I look forward to us teasing apart the moral implications of this later.” SG: “Nice.” SG: (No longer whispering:) “I’ll like and subscribe, EpicCrimez! I’ll like fighting crime, and subscribe... to a worldview wherein the strong protect the weak!” EC: “Oh my gosh, are you like wholesome Spider-Man or something??” At the bottom of the page, small text says: “Wholesome Spider-Man, Wholesome Spider-Man/Does whatever a wholesome spider can/Is he tough?/Listen bud/He’s here to hear you talk about your day and tell you it’ll all be fine while taking you out for your favorite meal for dinner because he knows you deserve it.”] Image 9: [ID: Another full comic page. Doreen and Nancy are in their apartment together, and their friends Tomas and Brian (AKA Chipmunk Hunk and Brain Drain respectively) are frozen as they look down at the machine that Nancy is on her knees in front of, working on. Nancy, barefoot, is wearing cerulean-blue athletic pants, a black long-sleeve spandex shirt without shoulders, and narrow-framed glasses. Her hair is partially covered by a yellow cloth head wrap tied on the left side, with black dreadlocks spilling out the side and back. The machine in front of her is made of dull grey metal, about a meter tall and roughly circular. Wires dangle out of a hatch that Nancy is fiddling with. Doreen is wearing a flowing, dark-purple pantsuit with wide, ankle-length legs and a halter top with the sleeves tied off at her shoulders. Her shoes are light-brown ankle boots with a horizontal gap on the bridge of each foot. Her wavy orange hair is parted in the middle and down past her shoulders. She looks incredibly cute. The following scene ensues: Doreen: “What do you think?” Nancy: “I think--come on you stupid screw--I think we’re still years away from this thing working, if it ever does. Who knew time machine construction is really hard, except of course for everyone who has attempted it?” (She wipes her forehead with the back of her hand) D: “Hah! No, I mean my new outfit.” N: (Looking up and checking her gf out:) “Doreen! You look amazing!!” D: “Liberated it from a very expensive department store uptown!” N: (Now standing) “Tony paid for it?” D: Tony will eventually discover he was kind enough to leave some expensive jewelry in trade, yes. I pinned a note to him so he knows.” N: “There really are advantages to being friends with billionaire playboy genius philanthropists.” D: “Right?!” N: (Taking Doreen’s hands in hers:) “It’s a shame we can’t take a picture of you all dolled up.” D: “Not without standing still for a few months, yeah. But I was thinking about that. I picked up something else at another store downtown. Thought maybe it could help us with that.” (Holding up a shopping bag with one hand while still holding onto Nancy’s hand with the other:) “Nancy Whitehead, I thought you and I might take up painting sometime.” At the bottom of the page, small text says: “Tony Stark moves from meeting to meeting, his body accumulating dozens of notes every second. He sighs. Stuff like this didn’t happen before he knew Doreen. But then he smiles, because after all...stuff like this didn’t happen before he knew Doreen.”] Images 10-16: [ID: Several pages worth of comic frames, posted together to depict one scene. Doreen and Nancy are now old women, likely in their seventies or eighties. Doreen has short, grey hair. She’s wearing a tan button-up waistcoat and an orange ascot, brown flats with an olive-green skirt, knee-length and softly pleated. Her tail is sticking out the back of her skirt over the top, bushy and brown but with stiffer, less-dense hair. Nancy has her grey-black hair done up in a ponytail, a mass of tight curls behind her head. She’s wearing thin oval glasses, black dress pants, black flats, and a lavender cardigan with a flower motif along the edges, open to show the yellow-orange top underneath. They’re standing in front of a completed time machine. On either side are tall pieces of machinery, and in the middle is a round, flat metal dais hooked up to everything else with snaking cables. The following scene ensues: Nancy: “So...this is it, babe. The new machine.” Doreen: “Your secret project! Nancy, it looks like you started from scratch!” N: That’s because I did. I finally realized our old machine was never going to work. Maybe if we had a few more decades, but...there’s no time. And given that our backs are to the wall, I took a risk. I disassembled the gun right down to the metal, and examined all the parts. And I did find something: a data chip. Doreen, the gun stored our bio signatures when it us.” D: “What are you saying?” N: “I’m saying my new machine won’t send us back in time, and we’ll still have lost a weekend of real time. But it will restore our bodies to normal time.” D: (Hugging Nancy tight:) “Nancy! You saved us!!” N: (Resting her hands on Doreen’s shoulders:) “Not--quite. There’s a catch, Doreen. Our bodies will make it...but we won’t. Look, Doreen...I’m an old woman. I’ve spent most of my life in hypertime. This wasn’t how I saw my life going, but...I don’t regret any of it. I don’t want to lose it, and I don’t want to lose us.” D: “I don’t understand.” N: “It’s like restoring from backup. Our bodies will be restored to how they were the moment we were first hit. But--that necessarily includes our brains, too. Everything we’ve done since we entered hypertime--our entire lives spent together...we’ll forget.” (She looks at Doreen in distress) D: “I don’t either, Nancy. You’ve been the most important person in my life. But if we do go back--we can do it again. All of it. It might not happen again quite the same way, but--well, like you say...we’ll have all the time in the world.” N: (Their faces inches apart, they both tilt their heads down and smile sadly:) “Twist my arm, why don’t you.” (They both step onto the dais holding hands, and blue energy starts to ripple around them:) “You filled up Spidey’s web-shooters before we go?” D: “Yep. Again.” N: “You and me, saving the world.” D: “Well,” (holding Nancy’s hand in both of her own) "No reason we can’t do it twice.” N: “You know, there’s a chance things could turn out differently, now that we’ll have video games to distract us. In 40 years we might decide we don’t like hanging out after all.” D: (Hugging Nancy even tighter than before as the energy from the time machine starts to envelop them, resting her face in the nape of Nancy’s neck:) “Nah. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”] Image 17: [ID: Doreen and Nancy are sifting through the charred rubble of their apartment as night starts to fall around them. Doreen is wearing faded blue jeans and a navy blue t-shirt with a Captain America star in the middle. Over top of the shirt, she’s wearing a dark reddish-brown leather vest with four metal studs at the four points of the folded-out collar. Nancy is wearing black tights and a light green long-sleeve shirt with olive-green sleeves. The front of the shirt has a picture of Cat-Thor, Cat God of Cat Thunder’s head on it. The following scene ensues: Doreen: “So I know we’re only a few hours into it, Nancy, but I think my identity being public isn’t gonna be as bad as I thought.” Nancy: “Oh?” D: “Yeah, Tony’s given me lots of tips, and it does honestly help to know that my parents are protected by a robot tree with laser eyes and my friends live in a city with the most super heroes per square mile.” N: “Most super villains too, but--Hold on. I think I found it.” (Nancy lifts a picture frame out of the wreckage, charred around the edges but otherwise no worse for wear. It has a painting inside of it of Doreen and Nancy, arm-in-arm, from hypertime. Doreen is wearing the lavender pantsuit from before, and Nancy is wearing a tight-fitting lilac dress.) “...And it looks like you and I made it through just fine.”] Images 18-19: [ID: Two later comic panels from the same scene. They’re wearing the same outfits, but Nancy’s now cradling her white cat, Mew, in the crook of her left arm while she holds onto the picture frame with her right hand. The following scene ensues: Doreen: “Come on, let’s talk about it! If we’re starting a new chapter in our lives, and we can decide what’s in it, what do you want it to contain?” Nancy: “Doreen...” D: “What are the three things you can’t live without, Nancy Whitehead?” N: (Holding up the picture so that Doreen can see it:) “Fine. If you must know, all this girl needs to be happy are cats and squirrels and knitting and computers and friends and secret tattoos and super heroes and lots and lots of love. Also food and shelter. And water. And internet.” D: “That’s more than three things.”] Image 20: [ID: Same scene as before, a single frame with a close-up on Doreen from her chest upwards. Doreen cups her chin with one of her hands and says, “Honestly--I thought about it. I really did. But I realized that where I am now, I’m safe and I’m loved and I kinda like the idea of not having to lie to people anymore, you know? Even if it is just a lie of omission. I want to share my whole self with the world. I don’t want to have to hide who I am anymore.”] Image 21: [ID: Something resembling a twitter thread, with dialogue between Nancy and Doreen stacked chronologically as horizontal boxes. Their respective names and handles are at the top of each of their comments. Nancy is Nancy W. and @sewwiththeflo, Doreen is Squirrel Girl and @unbeatablesg. The following conversation ensues: Nancy: “You think I’d leave you high and dry??” Doreen: “I think I don’t want our lateness harming your grades and therefore harming your post-secondary education or career choices and therefore harming your ENTIRE LIFE?!” “So yeah I think you should switch to someone else, real talk. I honestly don’t mind, I promise.” Nancy: “Please. If there’s one thing I know about you, about me, and about how we spend our future together, it’s this. Doreen Green...” “...you’re not getting rid of me that easily. <3″] Image 22: [ID: A paragraph of text, black text on a yellow background. “As for more Doreen and Nancy, I hope so too. A Squirrel Girl book without Nancy would feel like--like--like some sort of hypothetical “Super” “Man” book without an equally hypothetical “Lois” “Lane”!”] Image 23: [ID: A group picture of Squirrel Girl and friends sitting down on a grassy hill and watching the sunset together. Kraven the Hunter is in the foreground for some reason, looking almost directly at the camera. In the background we see Koi Boi, Mary Mahajan, Chipmunk Hunk, Brain Drain, and Mew the Cat. In the middle of the shot, Doreen and Nancy sit together. Doreen is in her superhero outfit with Tippy-Toe on her right shoulder, and Nancy is in a yellow cardigan and jeans on Doreen’s left. They’re holding hands, fingers intertwined, as Nancy leans against Doreen with her whole body. Their heads are tilted inward towards each other, the side of Doreen’s head touching the side of Nancy’s, as they look off into the distance together.]

[bettsfic]

how i got an agent, or: my writing timeline

when i started writing, i had no idea how publishing worked and i had a lot of misconceptions about it. but i just signed my first literary agent so i thought i’d share what my experience has been getting to this point, in case it helps anyone else with their own publication goals. i’m also including financial details, like submission fees and income, because “i could never afford to pursue writing as a career” is something that kept me from taking the idea seriously.

for context, i write mostly literary fiction and i’m on the academic/scholarly writing path. this process looks a lot different for other genres. 

i didn’t write this in my pretty nonfiction narrative voice; it’s really just the bare-bones facts of how it went down, how long it took, how many words i wrote (both fanfiction and original fiction), and how much it all cost. 

background

2002 - 2005: read a fuckton of books, wrote some fiction, wanted to be a writer but knew it would never happen, journaled every moment of my life in intimate detail

2006: started working full-time (at a chinese restaurant) while still in high school, also started taking courses for college credit; no time to write, and forgot i had ever wanted to be a writer

2007: graduated high school, started college (psych major), still worked at the restaurant, moved out of my parents’ house into an apartment with my boyfriend; my dad got diagnosed with stage 3 colon cancer

2008: continued college full-time, quit the restaurant and started part-time as a bank teller, broke up with bf and moved in with a friend at an apartment where the rent was obscenely high; had to pick up a second job altering bridal gowns

2009: continued college full-time, started dating someone else, moved in with him, had to support him, took a third job as an admin assistant 

2010: continued college full-time, still had 3 jobs; my dad’s cancer became terminal

2011: my dad passed away; i graduated college with a 3.9 and $31k of debt; quit 2 of 3 jobs; got promoted at the bank; my bf cheated on me and we broke up; moved back in with my mom

2012: a very dark time; also, bought a house (because where i’m from, it’s cheaper to buy than rent)

2013: discovered fandom

2014, age 24

this is the year i started writing and posting fanfic. prior to that i was a compulsive journaler but had no drive or desire to become a writer, despite how much i had written when i was a teenager. it seemed like a very childish dream. at this point i assumed writing was just a phase like all my other hobbies i’d picked up and set down. 

but fandom proved to be really healthy for me, and i made some good friends who encouraged my writing and made me want to be better at it. i was really not very good at writing. i don’t think i had any natural creative talent whatsoever, or even a particularly vivid imagination. the only thing i had going for me was the ability to put thoughts into words after a decade of obsessive journaling.

i started writing in spring, and by the end of the year my total word count was 311k. i was making a decent income at the bank, insofar as my bills were covered and i had health insurance. i still had a significant amount of credit card debt from college that i was trying to pay down, and which was eating up all my extra income. 

2015, age 25

i continued writing through 2015 and went to visit @aeriallon, whom i’d met in fandom and who told me i should consider applying to MFAs. i was miserable at the bank and knew i wanted to go back to school, but i didn’t think there was a chance in hell a grad program would accept me, since my writing wasn’t very good and i hadn’t so much as taken a single english class in undergrad. she told me to just look around and do a few google searches to see what i found. 

when i started searching, i assumed i would probably be more compelled toward an MEd or MSW programs and go the therapy route, which is what the plan had been in undergrad before my dad died and my life got derailed. i never wanted to be a banker, but i’d got a promotion into commercial finance that paid decently, so i took it and told myself i’d work for a year before going back to school. but then i kept getting promoted and one year became many.

i ended up being more drawn to creative writing MFA programs because they seemed to want people with weird backgrounds like mine. also the classes sounded fun and the programs were funded. i didn’t know how i would be able to afford my mortgage payment or sell my house on a fraction of the income i was making at the bank, but i figured i’d apply and see what happened.

it took 6 months to get a writing sample ready to apply to MFAs. it was the only ofic story i’d written as an adult, and in retrospect i had no idea what i was doing because at that point i didn’t read literary short fiction. but i got the sample as good as i could get it and completed my applications. i applied to 6 schools and got accepted into 1. 

in 2015 i wrote 250k. i can’t find my application spreadsheet from that year, but i probably spent between $300 and $400 on application fees. early in the year, i had finally managed to pay off my credit card debt and save a little bit of money.

2016, age 26

the school i got into was within driving distance of my house, so i didn’t bother moving. i tried to quit the bank but my boss convinced me to stay on 2 days a week working from home. i agreed to it, because my grad stipend wasn’t enough to cover my bills, and i was counting on what little savings i had accrued to get me through the program. i still had no drive or interest to publish. i mostly just wanted to go back to school so i could learn how to be better at this thing i really enjoyed doing.

in the MFA, as you might imagine, i had to read a lot of stuff and write a lot of stuff, and was encouraged to begin submitting some of the short stories i wrote for workshop. i was not particularly into the idea, considering it seemed like a lot of work for little reward, and also i didn’t think my stories were very good.

i also started teaching english comp. i hated it and decided that after the MFA, i never wanted to do it again. haha. hahahahahaha

in 2016 i wrote 343k. i didn’t apply/submit in 2016 so i didn’t pay any fees, but my grad stipend was $14k for the academic year, plus the income i was making at the bank.

2017, age 27

i did a complete 180 and decided i loved teaching more than anything else in the entire world, and i was willing to do whatever it took to become a teacher. i realized that to become a teacher, i needed to publish. begrudgingly i started submitting to literary journals. i also applied to summer workshops and got into tin house, which i highly recommend if that’s something you’re interested in. at tin house i met my dream agent, who seemed really interested in my work and encouraged me to query her as soon as i had a book done. 

a lot of personal drama happened that year. i was still working at the bank in addition to teaching a 2/2 and taking a full course load. in summer i had a long overdue mental breakdown. 

2017 was a rough year. i wrote 149k. this is the year i started keeping a dedicated expenses spreadsheet. i spent $174 in submission fees. tin house tuition with room and board was a little over $1500 + travel. i thought it was worth it because i met the agent i thought i would later sign, but that didn’t pan out. (i made some great friends though!!) tin house was definitely an unwise financial decision; i paid for it out of what little i managed to save in 2015.

2018, age 28

early in 2018, i went from teaching comp/rhet to creative writing, which only cemented my desire to teach writing as a career. i realized i was far better at teaching writing than writing, but i knew i had to keep writing to keep teaching (shocked pikachu.jpg), so i kept submitting to journals. i got my first story accepted. i didn’t receive any payment for that publication. i quit the bank early in the year (finally! after 10 years!) and was terrified about money, in part because my student loan payments were coming out of deferment and i was still paying off my hospital bills from my breakdown. 

in spring semester, i won a few departmental awards (totaling $500ish) and got a second story accepted (again, no payment). i also got accepted to another workshop which i will not name because i hated it. i graduated in may and defended my thesis in july. the thesis would later become my short story collection, zucchini.

in fall, i stayed on at my school as an adjunct, and started writing training wheels which would later become an original novel called baby. 

i wrote 450k in 2018. i paid $373 in submission fees. i was also nominated for an award for one of my publications but didn’t win. the workshop i went to was like $4000 with room and board (it was a month-long workshop). i got 75% of it covered with scholarships and i paid for the rest of it out of my savings, and even though i’d intended to drive there, my mom ended up buying me a plane ticket. again, i met a lot of big-wig writers i thought for sure would help me get an agent. i told myself i was networking, and that publication was all about Who You Knew. but that turned out not to be true for me.

as an adjunct i made $3200 per course, and i taught 3 classes in fall. in winter, i got my shit together and started applying for creative writing PhDs, mostly to convince my family i was doing something with my life, with no expectation that i would get in. in winter i applied to 2 schools. with application fees and the GRE, i ended up paying well over $500.

2019, age 29

in spring semester, i taught 2 classes while i revised training wheels into baby. when i had a completed manuscript, i finally pulled the plug and used all my networking contacts to get my dream agent i’d met at tin house. i queried her, and a very popular and well-regarded author i’d met at the other workshop emailed her on my behalf to tell her good things about me. i thought for sure i had it in the bag. this author also touched base with a few other agents whom he thought would like my work.

i didn’t hear back from any of them. not even a “no thanks.” i set down querying for a while. 

i got a third story picked up and published around this time, and i was paid $25 for it. they also nominated me for an award, and i don’t think i won? but i can’t find out who did win so idk.

my grandpa passed away and i decided to sell my house and move in with my grandma so she wouldn’t be alone. i got rejected from both PhD programs i applied to and decided to get a “real job” instead, and began applying for random positions that offered health insurance, because i knew i was drastically undermedicated and it was becoming a Problem.

near the end of spring semester, i moved out of my house, put it on the market, and was interviewing for a community development manager position for a nonprofit. at the same time, i found out about another university that was taking late-season applications, and i applied. five days later, i got accepted. one day after that, i got a job offer for the nonprofit. since i had no idea how long it would take for my house to sell, and being unable to afford both rent in a new city and my mortgage payment, i deferred my PhD acceptance for a year and decided to work at the nonprofit for a while. the risk was that i could only defer my admission, not my funding, so there was a chance that the following year i wouldn’t get the same funding package.

i lasted one month at the “real job” before i had another breakdown and ended up quitting. 

my house sold for well under the asking price and i received only $4000 in equity once it was all said and done. that’s a lot of money to me, but considering that i’d been paying on the house for 7 years, i was expecting a lot more.

i had a year to kill until the PhD so i decided to take a break from teaching and apply to artist residencies instead. i applied to 8 residencies and got accepted into 4, but only ended up attending 3, because the 4th was outrageously priced and there was no indication of the cost when i had applied.

in winter i picked up querying agents again. i queried 10 agents every other week. i also got a ghostwriting gig writing children’s books that paid $800 a month.

in 2019 i wrote 417k. i spent $441 in submission fees (to residencies and contests, not agent queries. never pay money to query an agent!!). i ended up teaching 3 classes fall semester.

2020, age 30

i started out the year driving across the country going to residencies. the first cost $100 (no food), the second cost $250 (A LOT OF VERY GOOD FOOD), and the third paid me $500. i was at the third when the pandemic hit.

the query rejections started rolling in. i gave up in february after 60 queries. of those 60, i received 7 manuscript requests for baby, but the consensus was that it was too long and plotless (you got me there.jpg). at the second residency completed and revised zucchini and decided to begin querying with that instead. i could only find a few agents who accepted collections so i only queried 16. i got one request for the manuscript but then didn’t hear back. i gave up in april shortly after the pandemic hit. 

when i figured the collection, like the novel, just wasn’t publishable, i started submitting to contests which is the more standard route for the genre. i submitted to 12 in total and was a finalist in 1. i was rejected or withdrew from the rest.

the PhD program reached out to ask if i was still interested in starting in fall, and i said i was, so they put me in the running for funding again and i was accepted. the stipend was $17k per academic year.

like most of us, i got totally derailed in spring and stopped doing basically everything. the ghostwriting gig started paying $1500 a month and i also started my creative coaching business, which slowly but surely began to supplement my income. i also received the $1200 stimulus. 

when school started, i quit the ghostwriting gig. i had no intention to continue querying either book, but i saw a twitter pitch event called DVpit (diverse voices) and decided to participate. for those who don’t know, a twitter pitch event is where you tweet the pitch for your book and use the hashtag, and agents scroll through the tag and like tweets. if an agent likes your tweet, you query them. 

i got one like, so i followed up with the query. the agent asked for the full MS and a couple weeks later followed up with the offer for representation. we talked on the phone, she sent me the contract, i asked for a couple changes, and then signed! 

so far this year i’ve written 375k and paid $518 in submission fees. i’ll give more details when i do my end of year roundup next month. oh, and i finally paid off my student loans.

totals

word count: 2.3 million

agent queries: 77

agent MS requests: 9

agent rejections: 28

agent no responses: 44

short story submissions: 86

short story acceptances: 3

short story income: $25

total submission/application fees: $1472

my (final) query letter

honestly this query letter probably isn’t very good which is why i got such a minimal response, but it got the job done eventually.

Thank you for expressing interest in ZUCCHINI through this year's DVpit event.

ZUCCHINI is a collection that views sex through an asexual lens. It poses inquiries into constructs like gender, sexuality, and love to dissect the patriarchal/puritanical foundations from which our social perspectives often derive. Being a collection about asexuality, each story portrays a relationship that develops from forms of attraction other than physical.

In one story, a grieving widow purchases her first sex toy; in another, a woman uses sex to cope with the death of her abusive father, and later in the collection faces the long road to recovery; an administrative assistant seeks out a codependent relationship with her boss; a masochist hires a professional sadist to lead him toward self-actualization; a woman begins to recover from her sexual assault by staging a reenactment on her own terms; and lastly, two lifelong friends in a queerplatonic relationship decide to get married. Asexuality is an under-acknowledged identity within the LGBTQIA community and is often misunderstood. In seven stories, ZUCCHINI dissects the notion of attraction, explores the intersections of sexual identity and trauma recovery, and conveys the experience of intimacy without physical desire.

Three stories in the collection have been published in literary magazines. “Lien” appeared in volume 24 of Quarter After Eight and was nominated for the PEN/Robert J. Dau Short Story Prize for Emerging Writers. “An Informed Purchase” appeared in the summer 2018 issue of Midwestern Gothic and won the Jordan-Goodman Prize in Fiction. “The Ashtray” appeared in issue 16 of Rivet Journal and has been nominated for a 2020 Pushcart Prize.

Complete at 53,000 words, ZUCCHINI is a collection in conversation with Carmen Maria Machado’s HER BODY AND OTHER PARTIES, Lauren Groff’s FLORIDA, and Samantha Hunt’s THE DARK DARK.

If ZUCCHINI is of interest to you, I would be happy to send you the manuscript. Per your guidelines, I've appended the first twenty pages below, which is the entirety of the first story.

what comes next

i’m going to spend january revising the collection per my agent’s feedback. when i send it back to her, she’ll shoot it out to the first round of publishers. my understanding is that the goal is to get multiple offers on it so that it has to go to auction. if there are no offers, she’ll do another round of submissions, and so on, until we’ve exhausted our options. if that happens, we’ll reassess, but by then hopefully i’ll have another novel finished.

meanwhile, i’ll be continuing the PhD which entails teaching a 2/2, workshop, and 2 lit seminars per semester. i’m also still doing my creative coaching, writing fanfic, and working on my original projects. in summer, i’ll finally be moving to hopefully start going to school in person next fall. 

the PhD is a 3 year program with an optional fourth year. i don’t see myself finishing in 3 years so i do plan to take the extra year unless something comes up. after the PhD, i’m not sure what i’ll do. a lot will probably change by then so i’m trying not to commit to one idea. i might apply to post-doc fellowships and tenure track positions, or i might leave the country and teach overseas, or i might move to LA and try to get in a writer’s room somewhere. i’ve got a lot of options.

overall thoughts/stuff i learned

first of all, you don’t have to go through all of this to publish a book. you could feasibly just write a book and query agents. the only reason it took me this long is because my PTSD brain was sabotaging me every step of the way and i didn’t start taking anything seriously until i found something i was willing to fight for (teaching). i went the MFA/literary route but other, faster routes are just as good. maybe better. probably better. actually if there’s any chance you can go a different route, you should take it.

reflecting on all of this, very little of it has anything to do with talent or being a good writer. nor does it have to do with being at the right place at the right time. i’ve only made it this far because i took very small steps over and over again, and during that walk met people who could help me -- the authors who have mentored me, the editors who accepted my stories, the agent who signed me. and as i got further along my path, i started being able to help other writers in the way i was helped. 

i don’t believe i’ll ever be a great writer. the best thing i can say about my writing is that it’s competent and accessible. everything i write sets out to do something and most of the time it gets the job done. i don’t imagine i’ll ever be able to financially support myself with publishing, and i’ll certainly never be famous or well-known, but i’m good enough to keep making progress. i’ll probably continue to find opportunities that are adjacent to writing and that will keep me afloat, pending my health and provided the country doesn’t devolve into civil war. 

probably the most important thing i learned in all this is that having a wide appeal isn’t the goal. you don’t write to be lauded or liked. you have to stay as true to yourself and your interests as you possibly can, so that the people who come across your path can see you and help you. you’ll need those people; no one gets anywhere alone. if you pander, if you’re too concerned with praise and success or being adored, you won’t make it very far. the rejection will eventually kill you. 

with all that said, my advice to you is this: never stop writing. the ability to share our stories is the single most precious thing we have. you can’t let anything stop you from telling your stories the way you need them to be told.