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managedmischiefs · 4 years ago

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north//chapter nineteen

genre: fluff!! some angst

warnings: mentions of prison, ptsd and its symptoms (flashbacks, kinda)

word count: 6.1k

summary: spencer gets home and amelia helps him keep his head on straight.

pairing: season twelve/thirteen spencer reid x oc

AMELIA

Stepping back into my apartment after being away for over twenty-four hours is such a relief. Spencer, for some reason, didn't want to go back to his own apartment, so I happily bring him right to mine.

He's half asleep in my passenger seat, his head resting against the window and his hand smushed against his cheek. Despite the challenging circumstances, at every red light, I gaze over to admire how adorable he looks with puffy cheeks and flushed skin. He's fighting sleep as we journey to my apartment, and even though I've told him that he doesn't have to, I still see him forcing his eyes open every few seconds.

When we're just a few minutes from my apartment, I finally speak up. "So," I murmur, and he lifts his head slightly, "do you wanna do anything when we get home, or do you wanna go right to sleep?"

Spencer shakes his head and adjusts his position so he's leaning more towards me, his head almost resting on my shoulder. "I'm really tired but I'm hungry. And I wanna shower too. Do you have my stuff at your apartment still?"

"Of course I do, doll," I smile, reaching my hand over to rest on his cheek, keeping my eyes on the road. "I have your go-bag too. So a shower, some food, and then sleep. We can do that," Spencer turns his head and kisses my palm, capturing my hand in his and bring them into his lap. I pull up in front of my apartment and park my car, smiling over at my hazy and sleepy boyfriend. "Here, Spence."

We climb out of my car and go trudging up to my apartment, and I push my keys into the lock. I twist it but it doesn't make the clicking sound to tell me it's unlocked, so I pull out the keys. I put them in again and twist one more time, and when the lock doesn't click, I pull the keys out for the second time. I figure that my friends might just be major idiots and have forgotten to lock the door after they left yesterday, so I tuck the keys in my pocket and twist the knob. It pops right open. Great. My door has been unlocked for over twenty-four hours.

Spencer isn't paying much mind to this though as we trudge in, kicking off our shoes. I hang up my jacket and turn to Spencer to ask for his jacket so I can put it in the washer, but his gaze is somewhere else. I follow where he's looking and find that the balcony doors are slightly open, and I roll my eyes. This keeps happening to me. These damn balcony doors. Between the balcony and front doors being open, I'm surprised that all of my belongings aren't completely gone.

"Don't worry about it, Spence," I tell him, dramatically flipping the lock on my front door so we can both hear the clicking noise and then padding across my apartment to flip the lock on the balcony door. Honestly though, my hands are trembling as I touch the knobs. Why are my door continuously unlocked? I try to brush it off for Spencer's sake. "My friends were here when I left to pick you up and I'm sure they forgot to close and lock everything. It's fine. It's not a big deal. Don't worry about it."

Spencer nods and rubs his eyes, then begins to speak through a loud yawn. "You should yell at your friends."

It's just another moment of the old Spencer shining through the armor that the new Spencer is wearing. This exhausted and bleary and witty version of my boyfriend is who I have embedded in my brain, not the version who yells at me and throws books at walls and jumps away from my touch. I wish I could frame this moment and hang it on the wall.

"Come on," I wave him towards the kitchen and he follows me blindly, falling into a barstool at the island, leaning his elbows against the granite. The sleeves of his dress shirt are rolled up and his forearms are far too distracting for anyone's good, and I have to tear my eyes away from him before I get carried away. I'm just too deprived of sex and satisfaction that maybe any intimate sight of Spencer will get me going. Even if it's his hands, or his forearms, or his fingers-- oh god, look away.

"Is there anything specific you want?" I take a glance through my fridge at the ingredients I have before turning back to him. His hands are on his cheeks now, distorting his face in that same adorable way it was in the car. "I'll make you whatever you're feeling."

"Just something, um," he speaks quietly, "easy. Pancakes, or something."

"Sure, I can do that," I reach into the cupboard and pull out the pancake mix, retrieving a bowl and a skillet.

"I'm gonna go put a record on," Spencer drags himself out of his chair and into the living room and I can hear him rummaging through the mess in there.

He's utterly exhausted. I've seen him tired after cases, but never liked this. He can barely even speak a full sentence or walk in a straight line. So I combine ingredients quickly, hoping that the stove warms up at lightning speed so I can cook these pancakes as fast as possible. I want to get Spencer food, and then into a shower, and then into bed. I couldn't care less about my needs. I just can't bear seeing him dragging himself around like this anymore.

My ears perk up when the record scratches and then the music starts, and State of Grace by Taylor Swift starts playing. I watch Spencer come back in and sit down again, his eyes closed as he absorbs the music. I expected him to put on one of the many classical records I have, like Mozart or Beethoven or Brahms. But no, he put on Taylor Swift. I choose not to comment on the music choice and instead, I pour the batter on the hot skillet.

It's only five minutes before I have a stack of pancakes and I've run out of batter. I turn off the burner and divide up the pancakes onto two plates, grabbing two forks and the maple syrup from the fridge. Spencer gives me a tiny smile as he reaches for his plate, digging in without even waiting for the syrup.

I drizzle a fair amount of syrup on my own pancakes and then pick up my fork, about to eat my first meal in twenty-four hours, but then I look at Spencer. He's scarfing down his food like his life depends on it, and I wonder if he's even chewing it at all. His head is bowed all the way down, nose almost touching the pancake stack as he snakes his fork under his chin, and his free hand is on the table with his fingers spread, and before I can blink again, he's halfway through his plate.

"Hey, hey, Spence," I reach my hand out for him, but he doesn't react. This is what happened when he threw the book. He got in his head, then I touched him, and he freaked out. I can't let that happen again. So I sit up on my knees and lean toward him, placing my hands flat against the table so, again, he can see that I don't plan on touching him or using them against him. "Spencer, look at me," he digs his fork into the pancake but his hand falters, slowing down. "Eyes up here, dove."

Spencer's eyes slowly travel up until they lock with mine, and they hold the same panicked qualities that they did post-book-throwing. I offer him a smile, but he doesn't give one back, not that I expected him to.

"Spencer," I speak slowly and calmly, "nobody's here. It's just you and me. You can slow down. You have all the time in the world to eat," Spencer takes a labored breath through his nose and shakes his head, closing his eyes. "I promise, dove, and you know I don't break my promises. You can slow down, you can just be with me. You're with me, and that's it."

"It's just--" he hangs his head and then opens his eyes, staring at his half-empty plate, "sitting like this. It feels-- it feels like-- it just-- it's--"

For some reason, I understand what he can't say. From how he's sitting in such a defensive and protected position and now he's saying that there's a problem with how he's sitting, it makes sense to me. Somehow, sitting like his makes him think of sitting and eating in prison and having to, I don't know, protect his food, maybe. I don't know much of anything about prison but I didn't think that it would change the way he eats meals.

"Okay, okay," I cut off his stuttering, nodding softly so I can seem as understanding as possible. "Come on then," I pull back my hands and grab my plate, sliding off the barstool and pressing my back against the kitchen cabinets, slowly sliding down. "How about we sit on the floor? Would that be okay?"

Spencer stares at me sliding onto the floor and it takes him quite a while to grab onto his plate and join me. He slides down beside me and extends his legs in front of him, setting his plate on his lap. He takes a long, deep breath and starts slicing into his pancakes again, much slower this time.

"Is this better?" I ask softly. "You can tell me if it's not because we could move somewhere else," I start to cut into my own food again, keeping my eyes on him.

"Yeah," he murmurs, and then he slumps down a little bit more so he can rest his head on my shoulder. Spencer is eating like a snail now, moving his hand so slowly that I have to keep looking down to make sure he hasn't fallen asleep on my shoulder. We just eat in tense silence, and as badly as I want to touch him and comfort him and smother him in love like I imagined I would be by now, I get the feeling that he would hate that and it would overwhelm him.

Not surprisingly, Spencer finishes his pancakes before me and gently places his fork down on his plate, setting his trembling hands flat on his lap. I expect Spencer to get up and discard his plate in the sink or the dishwasher and then head upstairs and jump in a shower, but he doesn't move. He stays right beside me with his head on my shoulder so I start to pick up my eating pace so we can get going. If he's not going to move without me then I don't want to make him sit here forever.

"Can I take your plate for you?" I whisper once I've finally finished my pancakes. The sun has fully risen and is blaring through the windows, and it feels so twisted to be so exhausted, so early in the morning.

Spencer nods, but he doesn't offer the plate up to me. I pick it up off his lap gingerly and wait for Spencer to lift his head before standing, putting them in the sink to deal with later. I turn back to Spencer, who's still on the floor, and hold my hands out to him to help him up. He looks at my feet first, and then incredibly slowly drags his eyes up my body until his eyes lock with mine. He seems so distant. He seems so far away and so far gone. His eyes are glossed over and his movements are like that of a sloth, starkly contrasting his quick actions just a few minutes before.

I very gently thrust my hands forward again, wiggling my fingers in his direction to get his attention. "Let's go get you in a shower, okay? I bet it'll make you feel a lot better."

Spencer looks up at me with a heartbreaking gaze, as if he can't even see me. As if he's staring right through me. As if he can't even see me at all. But then he pushes himself up by his lonesome and runs his hands down his face.

"Um," he breathes, his voice so low that I barely hear it, "thank you for-- you know, for the food," He keeps his eyes down on the floor, his body turned slightly away from me as if he's cowering from my touch again.

"No need to thank me, love. But let's just head upstairs and get you into a shower, okay?" I wave him out of the kitchen and he slumps off towards the stairs.

I watch him go, and once he gets on the first step, I go into the living room to shut off the record that Spencer has put on. Taylor Swift, huh? I have to make a mental note to ask Spencer about that when we're better rested.

Once I've put the record away, I follow Spencer up the stairs and I find him rummaging through my closet, already having dumped out all the items from his go-bag on the bed. His back is turned to me, too focused on finding clothes in my closet. I go to the pile of clothes and separate the work clothes from his pajamas, making two separate sections for him and trying to smooth out wrinkles from the fabrics.

"Sweets," even when I speak, he doesn't acknowledge my presence, "what are you looking for in there? I know you've got some clothes in there but you've got two whole sets of pajamas right here. They're clean, I've cleaned these clothes."

"I need a white tee-shirt," Spencer tells me and his voice is sharper now. It's not quiet and timid like in the kitchen. It's the exact opposite of the man that was just in my apartment a moment ago.

"Why?" I look down at the pair of pajama pants and the crew neck on the bed in front of me, right next to a different pair of pajamas, a matching silk set that Spencer commonly wears to sleep. Why isn't this good enough for him? If anything, this will keep him more comfortable during bed than just a tee-shirt. "There's two pajama sets right here for you that--"

"I need a white tee shirt, okay?!" Spencer snaps, turning his head to me, but still never looking me in the eye. "I need to wear a white tee-shirt to bed!"

I let out a shaky breath at the venom dripping from his mouth, reaching for the clothes in front of me and just grasping them in my hand, grasping for something to ground me. Although, maybe I'm not the one who needs the grounding right now.

I hear Spencer sigh behind me as he finds a white tee-shirt, and when he comes to the bed beside me, he takes a pair of pajama pants and boxers out of my hands. I move around him to put the other clothes back into his go bag, setting it in the corner of the room and then sifting through my closet for a crew neck and a pair of shorts. I do everything in my power to forgive and forget the moment that is making my hands tremble and my head dizzy. Spencer never yells. And he definitely never yells at me.

I hear the bathroom door open as I put my clothes onto the bed and pull off my tank top, but when I don't hear the water turn on, I turn to check on Spencer. He's still standing in the doorway, clutching his clothes in his hands and staring at the shower door.

"Spence?" He jumps when I speak his name as if he momentarily forgot that I was in the same room as him. And when he turns to me, he's back to the man he was in the kitchen. Quiet, timid, desperate. His eyes are pleading for me, and I feel helpless knowing I don't know exactly how to help him. I disregard my clothes and walk toward him, but don't make an effort to touch him. "Love, you can shower, it's okay. You'll feel much better when you wash off all the sweat and grossness of the--" I pause, wanting to say one certain word but knowing I shouldn't. I settle with a safer word, "day."

Spencer pouts his pretty lips and his hands tighten around the pile of clothes in his hands. "Could you-- um-- could you come with me? I don't wanna be alone right now," and perhaps it seems like a rude comparison, but he looks like a small child. He looks like a child who's woken up from a nightmare, clutching his pillow to his chest, asking his mom to come to his room to scare away the monster under his bed. But I'll never be able to scare away the monster under Spencer's bed. We both know that and we both seem to be ignoring it. For now, we'll pretend that I can remedy every issue in the world and continue on with our day.

I toss my tank top into the hamper across the room and then walk over to Spencer, leaning against the doorframe across from him. "Are you gonna be comfortable with that, dove?"

Spencer nods quickly, his hair falling in front of his eyes. "I'll be okay. I really don't wanna be alone. I want you."

I glance at the shower and then back at Spencer with his greasy hair and his half-lidded eyes and his hunched shoulders, and I nod. If he gets uncomfortable again, I'll just get out. He needs a shower more than me anyway, and if I need to get out of the shower because he doesn't want me touching him, then it's not the end of the world. Spencer breathes a sigh of relief and steps fully into the bathroom, setting his clothes on the sink counter. I grab two towels from the closet and start the shower, leaving the door open a crack so the steam can escape.

Spencer strips off his clothes before I do and, holy shit, I almost gasp. Now, for the millionth time, I have no idea what prison is like. I only know tiny bits of what Spencer went through, like getting beat up and eventually stabbing himself and getting thrown into solitary confinement. I don't know what he did during the time that he was stuck in his cell by himself, or what he did to pass the time when he wasn't in his cell. Honestly, I don't really know what he did at all in prison.

But holy shit. Spencer's arms are far more toned than I remember them to be and his stomach is too, and if Derek Morgan were here, I'd bet good money that he would be impressed. Even Spencer's calves and quads look more toned than before, and every time he moves, every one of his muscles flexes in the most delicious and sexy way. How much did he work out in prison? Did he work out every second of every day? I wasn't expecting this type of transformation from him, but he's been full of surprises. And after a moment of staring, I wonder if this is a good change or not.

"Why are you staring?" Spencer has just reached for the waistband of his boxers but paused when he saw me standing still and staring, then his hands stilled.

"Um," I have to physically jerk my head to the side to break my gaze and force my eye line up to his pupils, "sorry, I was just-- you--"

"I what?" Spencer retorts, and thankfully, he doesn't sound angry. He sounds genuinely curious.

"You just look different. More, you know, muscular," I try to choose my words carefully because I don't want to offend him. I don't want to make it seem like I hate his body now, or that I hated his body before prison because neither is the case. I could never hate his body. I'm not with him for his body. His body is beautiful regardless. This is just such a difference from what I'm used to seeing from my boyfriend. This is just another part of him that has been taken away from him. His soft body is gone as if he has morphed himself into an intimidating alpha male. I never wanted an alpha male. I've only ever wanted my Spencer.

"I worked out a lot," Spencer mumbles vaguely. He barely tells me any details about prison. The most he told me was while we were eating. And even still, he didn't give me specifics during dinner. He left me to guess exactly what was wrong. It's all been vague so far. I'm not sure if that's because he's protecting me or because he just can't bring himself to talk about it yet.

"Let's get in the shower so we can get some sleep," I want to nudge him towards the open shower curtain and the warm, streaming water. But Spencer moves on his own, shuffling towards the shower and quickly discarding his boxers.

He seems hesitant to get into the water at first, just standing at the edge of the tub and letting the water hit his toes first. Spencer stares at the stream of water, reaching his foot out a bit more to get his ankle and shin wet. I watch him carefully for a moment, just to make sure he doesn't freak out like he has a few times already today.

Spencer's head turns to me and he gives me a pleading look, his eyebrows scrunched up and his bottom lip between his teeth. He's clearly keeping tears at bay, trying to prevent his chin from quivering. "Lia," he stammers, but doesn't say anything else. A single tear falls down his cheek.

I quickly pull off my undergarments and move the shower door back a little bit more, stepping into the tub so I'm in the stream of water. I hold my hands out for him, and this time, he actually grabs onto them. I draw him closer to me. Not closer to the stream of water, but just closer to my body.

"It's just water, Spence," I tip my head back and wet my mane of curls, matting them down to my head. "It actually feels really good."

"It's just," Spencer shuffles just a little bit closer to me. The tips of his toes touch mine, his whole body flinching when a droplet of water ricochets off of me and hits his chest, "the showers were always cold."

"Oh," I turn and look at the knobs behind me that control the water temperature, "I can make it cold if you want. It's not a big deal if--"

"No, no, I don't want that," he shakes his head, clutching my hands tightly in his. "I don't wanna take another cold shower. It just feels weird. I'm not used to it."

I scrunch up my nose, unlacing our hands and tracing my fingertips up his forearms. I wonder if I should even let myself touch his biceps because if I do, I might completely lose my cool and want to jump his bones. Clearly, he's not ready for sex or any kind of physical intimacy. I didn't even expect us to be showering together any time soon. "I don't like cold showers, either. You know that. Do you wanna get under the water?"

Spencer nods and grabs my hands again, switching our spots so he's directly under the stream. I don't let go of him as he sighs of relief, the water falling over his face and making his hair stick to his forehead. He closes his eyes, dropping his shoulders down. This is, by far, the most relaxed I've seen him all day. He seemed to be relaxed in the car, but now, he has completely let his guard down for the first time. It's a beautiful sight, truly. It's beautiful to see him running his hands through his hair and reaching for his shampoo and fluttering his eyelids. He's always been so beautiful.

I shave my legs while Spencer washes his body, and he spends quite a lot of time doing so. I'm not surprised that he wants to wash every germ off his body, I'd expected that much. And we keep in silence, just washing away the stress and drama and hardships of the last few months. I wish that a simple shower could wash away all the pain that we've been cursed with, but I know that this pain may never go away. The pain of this time will always linger, no matter how hard we try to eradicate it.

"Are you gonna shave?" I ask, switching places one more time with Spencer so I could wash my face.

"You said you liked it so--"

"Yeah, but it's your face. If you wanna shave, then shave. Don't let me stop you," I wipe away the soap from my eyes and smile at Spencer, gesturing to where his razor still sits along the wall.

Spencer runs his hands over his face, feeling his mustache and beard on his fingertips. "I'll keep it for now. Maybe tomorrow I'll clean it up a little but I don't wanna deal with it today."

"Well let's go get some sleep, okay?" I turn around and shut off the water, wringing out my hair so it doesn't drip onto the floor. Spencer gets out and quickly wraps himself in a towel, and when I step out a moment after him, he hands my towel to me. "Thanks."

I head out of the bathroom and reach for my clothes, pulling on a pair of underwear and one of Spencer's old tee-shirts. I dry off my hair a little bit and sit on the edge of the bed, putting lotion on my legs and keeping my eyes on the bathroom door for when Spencer eventually comes out.

He takes forever to get dressed, but when he does, he's wearing a pair of sweatpants and a white tee-shirt, his hair soaked and hanging over his forehead. He drops his towel in the hamper and then he turns on his heel to join me in bed, but freezes in his spot when he sees my towel on the floor. He quickly picks it up off the floor and puts it into the hamper, then he scans the floor of the room for anything else that could be out of place.

"Babe?" I close off the lid on my bottle of lotion and put it away, watching him put a pair of my shoes into the closet and then jam the door closed. "Spencer, if you really wanna clean, do it when you can actually keep your eyes open. Come get some sleep, please."

Spencer lets out an exasperated sigh as his hands drop from the closet handle, and then they smooth through his hair. He nods silently, and his toes drag against the carpet as he brings himself towards the bed.

He falls onto his side, pulling back the duvet and slipping under, letting out a sound close to a moan as his body sinks into the bed. His head falls onto the pillow and he moans louder, his body wiggling under the covers. I smile at his pure and unfiltered ecstasy and pleasure, doing the same and slipping under the duvet with him.

I keep a bit of distance between us though. Usually, I'd slide my leg through his and wrap my arms around his waist and rest my head on his chest and get as close to him as I possibly can. But he's so caught up in the familiarity and comfortability of my bed that I don't want to overwhelm him by touching him. I want him to enjoy his first time in a proper bed in months and not worry about my hands on his skin.

I let out a roaring yawn, rolling onto my side to face Spencer. Now that I'm laying in bed, my exhaustion is setting in yet again. I pull the duvet up to my chin and close my eyes, trying to let myself drift off to sleep.

I'm just about to dip into dreamland when I feel Spencer shift beside me, facing me. I try to ignore it, try to bring myself closer to sleep, try to let us both get the rest that we so desperately need. But I can sense Spencer's gaze on me, and as hard as I try to, I can't ignore it. I just want him to go to sleep. I want him to sleep so he can regenerate and hopefully feel better whenever it is that we wake up. But my forehead is burning with his stare and I can't stop feeling it. Clearly, something is affecting him and that's why he hasn't tried to sleep yet.

To my surprise, Spencer's voice is the one to break through the silence. "Baby?" He's shaky. He's trembling. He's unsure.

I open my eyes, seeing tears pouring down his cheeks and his hand in midair, just a few inches in front of my face. "Spencer," I breathe, watching his hand drops onto the bed between us. "What's wrong?" Spencer squeezes his eyes shut, and his hand clutches the bed sheet until his knuckles turn white. He breathes in harshly through his nose and he draws his knees up to his chest, curling into a tiny ball. "Dove, talk to me."

Spencer's other hand comes down to the bed to join his other, squeezing so tightly that I fear he might rip a hole in the fabric. I see his arms start to shake with the force he's using to hold the bedsheet, hot tears streaming down his cheeks and staining the pillow. He hiccups, but not too loud. Barely loud enough for me to hear. "Lia," he sobs, completely breaking down right before my eyes, "please hold me."

I want to jump his bones. I want to get on top of him and smother him in love and affection and kisses. I want to give him everything I know we've both been craving for months. I want to give him exactly what he's asking for. But I've spent most of my day doing what I can to not overwhelm him and that's not going to change now.

I debate for a moment on how I should touch him first. Should I wipe his tears? Should I hold his hand? Should I wrap my arm around his waist? Should I drag my fingers along his arm? What could I do that won't freak him out?

But then I notice, again, that his eyes are closed. His eyes are squeezed shut and he's not looking at me. I remember how he reacted in the round table room when I touched him when he couldn't see it coming. He jumped and cowered away from me. He didn't take well to getting touched without seeing it.

"Spencer," I whisper, "open your eyes." His eyebrows scrunch up at my request but he doesn't follow it. "Come on, baby, I wanna see your pretty eyes. I haven't been able to see them in so long. Open your eyes for me," I watch Spencer carefully as he holds his breath, forcing his eyelids open, releasing more tears. "There you go, Spence. Thank you, lovey. So pretty. Your eyes are so pretty."

I raise my hand and let it linger in the air for a moment before reaching towards Spencer's face. I drag my fingers along his jawline then lay my hand flat against his cheek. Spencer's lips part when he lets out a shaky sigh, nuzzling his cheek against the palm of my hand. I give him a moment to revel in this type of contact, just staring into his eyes and gauging his reaction. He isn't cowering away and he hasn't screamed at me yet, so I take that as a good sign.

I bring my other hand forward and press my fingers against the back of his hand, feeling him already start to ease his grip. I can't attest for his other hand, but he flattens his hand against the bed, allowing me to lock our fingers together in an awkward, backwards handhold.

"I've got you," I whisper, swiping my thumb across his cheeks to rid his skin of stinging tears. His eyes are locked on mine and he doesn't dare to avert his gaze from my blue eyes that I know he loves so much.

Spencer sucks in a breath and tugs on my hand, wanting me even closer. So I wiggle my hips to diminish the gap between us, leaving some space still. I move my head so we're sharing a pillow, the same pillow that I used to clutch when I was missing Spencer so intensely that I needed to smell his cologne and remember that he would come home to me soon.

"It hurts," he slurs, and his eyelids are so heavy that he can barely keep them open. But he fights with all his strength against the sleep that wants to suck him in, sticking his eyes to me. His eyes plead for help, a type of help that I don't know if I can provide.

"Oh, my baby," I coo, bringing my face right in front of him, "you're safe. You're home. You don't have to go back to that horrible place again. You're right here and you can rest, okay? It's okay to rest now."

I feel him moving under the sheets and it takes everything in me to not look at what he's doing. But I feel his legs touching mine, and then one of his slips between mine a moment later. Even though he initiated this contact, I wait, yet again, for his reaction. His face doesn't change.

"Can I touch you some more?" Spencer nods quickly, his facial hair scratching my palm. "Can I hug you?" He nods again, and with this obvious consent, I almost sigh of relief.

I slide my hand down Spencer's neck, then down his arm, and to his stomach. I wrap my arm around his waist, pulling my body forward so I'm flush against him. With this, he finally lets his eyelids flutter closed, lips parted as he breathes heavily. His skin feels so warm against mine and I can already feel beads of sweat collecting at my hairline, but I ignore their presence.

"Go to sleep," I murmur, bringing our entwined hands up to the pillow between our faces. "I'm here right now, I'm gonna be here when you wake up, I'm gonna be here tomorrow, and the day after, and the next day, and every day after that. I'm not going anywhere. And if you need me then don't hesitate to wake me up. But I need you to get some sleep, okay? Can you do that for me?" Spencer nods yet again, and he flips his hand around so we can properly hold hands. I smile at his responsiveness. "Let me hear you say it, doll."

Spencer nuzzles his cheek against the pillow, scooting a bit closer to me. "I'm gonna try to get some sleep."

"Good," I slip my hand under his tee shirt and rest it flat against his hot skin, earning a small gasp from him, but I don't do any more than that. "I'm right here, baby boy. I'm not gonna let go of your hand and I'm not gonna get out of bed before you. I'll be right here the whole time. I promise, I'm not going anywhere."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"I love you," Spencer whispers but his words are barely coherent as his exhaustion becomes too much to handle. His lips are barely moving and his grip on my hand, and on the sheets, are loosening.

"I love you too, dove."

I watch him closely until I know, for sure, that he's fallen asleep. I wouldn't want his eyes to pop open again and for him to panic. But I keep my promise and I don't let go of his hand, or move my hand from in his shirt, or get out of bed. I just close my eyes and drift off into the most restless sleep I've had yet.

TAGLIST

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constant-meh · 4 years ago

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personal [2:43am 20/12/21]

i wonder if i can publish this but like only for myself. something i've always loved about tumblr its the lack of punctuation. v nice.

anyway, i don't know why i had this sudden urge to post. i'll use this blog as a diary so i can come back in the future and see where my head was. i just did that with some older posts, searching through the tags, and man. what a trip. i can't believe i've been struggling with the same stuff for the last 6 FUCKNG YEARS. amazing. at least i can say im constant at comething right??

currently listening to night shift as i write this (by lucy dacus) by the way

what are some of the struggles that have remained constant u may ask?

- comphet: i just read a post that i reblogged (sp?) in like 2014 about how confusing sexuality was. and now that i know more i know it reffered to comhet. now with the rise of tiktok and its scarily accurate and tailor-made fyp i saw a lot of vids about comphet. at least its nice knowing so many, and i mean SO MANY people feel exactly the same as i do.

-lewks: judging by the tags i used when i used to reblogg pretty people, i used to struggle a lot with self image. and its not like i needed to see those tags to know i did, but i had forgotten. and those feelings are back babyyy. i had gotten over them for a while there, but my mind is cyclical it seems.

i think those are the big ones.

some things have changed as well. i don't struggle with anxiety as much. AS MUCH. it still creeps up every once in a while. but now i manage it differently. i'll talk more about that some day, in more detail. also...i think i had self diagnosed myself as depressed???i mean, i can't blame past me. i did really want to off myself lol those feeling have been back as well in this second part of the year. got kinda scary for a moment. i mean i wouldn't ever actually do it of course but i was SAD with capital letters. thats also something ill talk about in another post.

another thihng that has changed too is i don't feel as lonely anymore. i have friends, and i need alone time a lot more now. idk why.

anywhoooo, just watched wild child and its SUCH A GOOD MOVIE. ahh, i don't know what about it reminded me of tumblr's existence but i'm glad.

im gonna start using this as i've found out some people use insta. i mean, ive seen how they use like a burner account and post every day so at the end of the year they have kind of like a 'wrapped' version of their year. i really liked that idea. but i'm a text girlie it seems. i've always been the type to need to get out her thoughts in writing.

i still haven't decided whether to make these public or not. i haven't really used this in such a long time that i don't even know what kind of followers i had. all fandoms i guess.

anywhooo. thats it for now. byeee :)

#personal #feel free to unfollow me if u want cause there's gonna be more like these #i've decided i'm making some of these public #or maybe all of em??idk #also excuse any spelling mistakes eng is not my first language

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keeroo92 · 5 years ago

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Something Old, Something New

My spicy contribution for the SSS zine, featuring Nero and Kyrie on a very special night!

------

Nero barely breathed as Kyrie slid the keycard through to open the door to the honeymoon suite. Her gossamer wedding dress still clung to her frame, her spine in full view between layers of tasteful satin and lace. He’d been staring at it every chance he got - never had he seen her go without a bra.

At least, not in front of other people.

Heat bloomed in his cheeks and in his belly as he imagined dipping his fingers past the fabric to touch her skin, pulling moans from her lips, mapping her curves and worshipping her skin. Celebrating their new life together.

Speaking of…

“Wait,” he blurted as she pushed the door open. “I’m supposed to carry you, right?”

“If you want,” she replied with a shy glance, the tips of her ears turning an adorable shade of pink. That blush would cover her entire body in a few minutes, if he had his way.

He ignored the thought and scooped her up with a grin, kissing her before stepping through the doorway into a scene more terrifying than Hell itself.

Instrumental music played from a speaker sitting on a heavy-looking dresser. Rose petals dotted the floor, leading to a massive bed where a pair of fluffy handcuffs sat beside a ball gag, a whip, and several condoms of assorted sizes. Massage oils warmed on tiny burners and a myriad of candles flickered from almost every available surface, their shadows dancing on the walls. It was as if Valentine’s Day itself puked all over the room.

He was going to kill Nico.

Slowly.

Nero struggled not to groan. Trust the crazy weapons expert to book a room stuffed with this bullshit. He should’ve had Lady do it; she at least had some restraint. He hoped Kyrie didn’t take it to heart. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel uncomfortable. Or worse, pressured.

Not on her wedding night, or any night thereafter.

He sucked his teeth and lowered Kyrie’s feet to the floor. If he just found the right words, maybe he could fix this. He had to try, at least.

“Uh, sorry. This is kinda ridiculous, huh? I guess letting Nico handle it was a mistake.”

Kyrie stepped closer to the bed, her hips taunting him with each step. She ran the flower petals between her fingers and fiddled with the sex toys. Nero’s nerves jangled with each second she didn’t speak, but she was kind enough not to make him wait long, turning to face him with a hum of agreement, her eyes sparkling in the candlelight. She flicked a rose petal as his nose and giggled when it struck home. “Just a bit. The flowers are nice, though.”

He chuckled and scratched the back of his neck. Anxiety still tickled his mind, like he’d forgotten an important detail. Why was this so hard? Wasn’t it supposed to be easy? Maybe he was doing something wrong, or what if-

“Nero.”

His eyes snapped to hers, his train of thought derailed. “Huh?”

The smile on her lips as she reached for his restored right hand was angelic, far kinder than his idiot ass deserved. Well, as he said in his vows, he’d spend the rest of his life trying to be worthy of her. Time to get started.

He wove his fingers between hers as she spoke.

“Stop worrying. You’re my husband now, you know. I’m your wife. I’m not going anywhere,” she declared.

He bit his lip and glanced away. “I just don’t want to fuck anything up.”

She pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “Well, even if you do, we have the rest of our lives to get it right.”

Nero stroked the back of her hand. She was right; she always was. He chuckled as his nervousness eased, kicking off his fancy dress shoes before taking a seat beside her on the bed. The beauty of her spirit never failed to stun him.

“How’d I get so lucky?” he murmured, reaching out to cup her cheek.

Kyrie’s eyes fluttered closed, her lashes a dark fan against her cheeks. The fluffy comforter beneath them rustled as Nero gently pulled her closer, inhaling her scent as he pressed a tender kiss to her perfect lips. Her quiet sigh set fire to his thoughts, endless fantasies playing on repeat in his mind.

Delicate hands grazed his shoulder blades, leisurely exploring the planes of his back. He moaned against her mouth as he wrapped her in his arms, reveling in the warmth of her body and the softness of her lips. They’d been looking forward to tonight for so long, he hardly believed the moment was here.

Their first night as a married couple.

An enticing rush pounded in his veins as their kiss deepened. Butterflies danced in his sternum and left him dizzy and breathless, lost to her hypnotic appeal. The soft brush of her tongue against his only intensified the spell she’d cast on him.

Yet she pulled away just as the crashing waves of desire crested, pulling a petulant grunt from his throat. He stared up at her as she stood, begging for more with his eyes alone.

“I’ll be right back. Why don’t you get comfortable?” she said.

He swallowed thickly as she walked toward the bathroom, his eyes locked on her spine once again.

Get comfortable.

Right.

Nero busied himself with removing his complicated attire, breathing a sigh of relief as the tight fabric released his length, leaving nothing on as he climbed onto the massive bed. What should he do with the stuff Nico left on the bedspread? It was doubtful they’d use any of it, but what if Kyrie wanted to try?

He sure wouldn’t mind.

But not tonight; tonight was about just the two of them, no add ons or extras needed. He set everything on the nightstand, within easy reach but out of the way. Just as he set down the last condom, the bathroom door opened and his bride stepped into view.

Kyrie’s hair cascaded across her shoulders to the small of her back, gentle auburn waves left behind from her complicated hairstyle from the ceremony. A sheer piece of white lingerie clung to her chest and thighs, satin and lace taking turns to tease at what lied beneath it. Shadows and light played on her skin and highlighted her feminine curves, her hips swaying as she strode closer to join him. He couldn’t help but gape.

She licked her lips. “Sweetie, you’re staring…”

“S- sorry. You look… you look amazing,” he replied.

He’d seen her naked countless times, in her underwear just as many. Her body wasn’t a new sight, yet to see her creamy skin barely covered, fabric hugging her hips and breasts, a delicate bow in the perfect spot for him to untie… it had his blood pulsing, gathering where he’d need it soon enough.

“Thanks,” she hummed, a faint tint of pink blooming in her cheeks as she came ever closer.

The second she was within reach, Nero pulled her onto his lap. His palms danced over her thighs, toying at her suggestive clothing and kneading her muscles. After so many hours in heels, he knew she’d appreciate it.

“Mmm, that feels good.”

His breath hitched at the huskiness of her voice as her body shifted, legs spreading so her center rested over his. The fabric against his shaft didn’t have time to register before she rotated her hips, rubbing against him with a gorgeous moan.

Oh, you tease...

But two could play at that game.

Nero’s hands crept higher, up her ribs and shoulders as he leaned forward. The bow between her breasts was easy to grasp with his teeth and came undone with a single tug to show more of her flesh. Jolts of electricity raced over his nerves as his lips descended, tongue flicking as he suckled. Small fingers tangled in his hair and pulled him closer, her voice urging him on with each whimper and sigh.

His cock hardened when she rolled her hips, flames crackling across his skin with every swipe of his tongue on her body. She smelled incredible, and despite the beauty of her attire, he craved sampling every inch. No matter how many times he tasted her, he’d always want more.

He took hold of her ass and shifted, putting her on her back with him above her. His palms skimmed over her stomach, her ribs, her thighs, every spot his to worship as he crouched between her legs. Panting breaths spilled from her lips as he settled her calves over his shoulders and pulled the fabric away to reveal her core, already glistening with need.

Nero smirked and leaned in, moaning as he took a single, teasing lick.

“N- Nero, please!” whimpered Kyrie.

He hummed. “Yes, dear…”

His tongue parted her folds and delved home, tasting her walls with every stroke. Dainty hands tangled in his short hair and egged him on, encouraging whimpers telling him he was on the right track. He angled his face so his nose met her clit, expertly working her into a frenzy as her reactions overwhelmed his senses. His awareness narrowed to the heaven of her delicious body, the scent of her skin and the pitch of her cries as he drove her ever closer to bliss.

I want to do this forever, he thought.

“Ah, come on, just a little-!”

Her words dissolved into a guttural string of gasping moans as he brought his thumb to tease at her back entrance. He couldn’t breathe through the pulses of fluid drenching her thighs and filling his mouth, her legs tightening and lifting her ass off the thick comforter. Without missing a beat, he followed her and kept his lips latched over her core, tongue still hard at work just the way she liked, dragging out her pleasure as long as possible.

Finally, her limbs went slack as she came back to Earth. Nero joined her on the bed, content to watch her facial expressions as her euphoria faded. Her flavor lingered on taste buds, a tantalizing reminder he did nothing to suppress.

“Nero…” she murmured after a moment. “Lie on your back.”

He licked his lips and obeyed. Whatever she had in mind, he wanted to try it.

She crawled up his body, trailing kisses up his abs and chest until she reached his mouth. A sheen of sweat coated her skin, shimmering in the candlelight and highlighting her curves. She rubbed her core against his painfully hard cock, coating him in her warm fluids as she finally brought her lips to his.

Nero wrapped his arms around her, stroking her back like he’d longed to for hours. Her skin was like satin, smooth and rich under his touch. Heaven.

The air caught fire as she lowered herself on him, enveloping his cock at last with a sultry groan. His thighs reacted on instinct alone to meet her, his mind lost to the pleasure of her embrace. She felt incredible, more welcoming and wonderful just from being his wife. Her perfume tickling his nose, the little noises she made, the weight of her body over his… absolute perfection.

The cocoon of her pussy sent his eyes to the back of his head, pulses of heat howling in his core like a typhoon. He drew a ragged breath and ran his hands up to knead her chest, rolling her buds the way he knew she liked.

“Ah, Nero,” Kyrie gasped, her voice too sweet a melody to resist.

He lifted his hips a fraction of an inch, groaning as her body moved with his. “C’mere,” he murmured, pulling her closer for a passionate kiss.

As their tongues met he snapped against her, slamming his cock all the way home. Shockwaves of pleasure rocketed across his nerves, blood searing through his veins. In and out, taking his time as their mouths danced, each motion heightening his lust until he was flying.

It was too much - he sat up, moving her legs to wrap around him and crossing his own beneath her luscious ass. Her eyes were glassy and her jaw hung open, a stain of pink tinting her cheeks under the halo of her shimmering auburn hair.

What could be as perfect as she is, he wondered.

Whimpers and mewls spilled from her throat as he stretched her walls, impaling her on his cock as he peppered her flesh with feverish kisses. Her neck, her collarbone, shoulders and chest, everything within reach. He was fire and she was ice; where they met, steam followed.

Her hands scrabbled across his spine, searching for a grip but finding little purchase. Nero moaned as her nails dug in, just enough to taunt him as he snapped inside her yet again. Her body shuddered as his cock met resistance, reaching deeper than before.

“Nero, please! Just like that, right there!” she cried.

“Yeah? You like that?” he replied against her neck.

Her enthusiastic cries were the only encouragement he needed, and Nero coaxed more and more of them from her lips. Sparks ricocheted across his body, his own peak approaching alongside hers, but he refused to give in until he satisfied her again. She deserved every second of pleasure he could provide her tonight.

And any night she wanted it.

Nero flexed as he bottomed out, his length twitching against that small spongy spot. He had to hold on a little longer, just long enough to feel her clench around him. How could he resist on their wedding night?

He dipped his hands between their joined bodies and traced circles around her clit, her wetness drenching his fingers. She arched, angling her hips into his hand while he rammed into her, her voice rising with each pulse of his hips.

“That’s it, that’s it- I’m - Nero!��

The silken embrace of her folds spasmed against his cock as Kyrie threw her head back and moaned, her arms locked around him as if he were a life preserver and she was drowning. The sounds she made redefined his idea of music and the erratic pulsing of her walls was too much, too good and too fucking sexy to resist.

“I’m gonna - Kyrie, I’m gonna-”

The slap of flesh meeting flesh mixed with the soft music still playing in the background as his thrusts reached a fever pitch, his body coming undone mere seconds after hers. He groaned and buried his face in the crux of her neck, crooning her name like a mantra as he pulsed his peak within her. Her fluttering walls and tender embrace were all that he cared about, all that he needed or would ever need.

When he returned to himself, her hands were rubbing his back and her sweet voice whispering praise in his ear. Her fruity conditioner mixed with her sweat and their now blended juices, an aroma he adored. There truly was nothing better than being with her.

He closed his eyes and relaxed in her arms. “Can’t believe you’re my wife.”

She hummed and helped him lie down, tracing his jaw and toying with his hair as she settled in at his side. “Believe it, Nero.”

There was no point restraining the wide grin tugging at his lips as he drifted off, thanking his lucky stars that she was his and he was hers.

Now and forever.

#fanfic #my writing #ssszine #nerokiri #Nero/Kyrie #dmc nero #spicy #wedding night story #one shot #fluff #DMC

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clumsyclifford · 4 years ago

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6, 12, 14, 15, & 21 for the writing asks? -megs 💙

hachi machi okie dokie how many more nonsense rhymes can i say ok that's it great let's go

6. What fic is on your back burner, waiting to be written when you feel your skill matches its potential? answered this one here! i'm SURE there are more though let me check my fic ideas doc (fun fact my fic ideas doc is still called "Malum fic ideas:" from back in the early days of this blog when i was chiefly writing malum because of helen). oh! well. the major league baseball au is still uh, kinda back burner-y. that's another one that i started and then ran face first into a wall known as The Wall of Trying To Realistically Represent A Situation I've Never Been In But Also Include Romance Which Would Not Typically Exist In This Setting So I'm Really Setting Myself Up For Failure Here it's a really annoying wall i know hazel hits it too so i'm just ignoring it for the moment. i also think a castaways fic (the concept, not the song) would be really awesome but tricky because, once again, i've never actually BEEN a castaway, and my knowledge of the topic is pretty heavily based on the book hatchet so like. yeah. i have a lot.

12. Where do you commonly find inspiration for your stories? everywhere! i saw in your answer you said you hear song lyrics and think they'd make good fic titles, i do EXACTLY the same thing (hence the doc "good lyrics for titles"). one day ill make that doc into a prompt list and post it on here and just fuck myself over. previously ive gotten some inspiration from movies but i shortly after completing baby driver au i realized that was a fluke and that in general i am pretty bad at making fics out of movie plots because i am very bad at remembering salient details about movies in the order that they happen. like i started a robin hood (2018) au but barely got anywhere with it because i realized i had never actually understood the plot well enough to write it. i would say the things that inspire me the most are songs (we know i loooove a songfic, mostly bc they make the job so easy by just laying out the plot and vibe for me) and also things that happen to me and feelings i have about those things. unfortunately many of my experiences are not universal (hello jewish summer camp) which may be part of why i've had so much trouble coming up with ideas lately. but as soon as i'm back at school i get the feeling i'll be doing fine again.

14. Share a few sentences of what you’re currently working on? what AM i currently working on? technically speaking i'm kinda sorta working on two things but one of them just doesn't have a good snippet and i don't wanna do a Reveal yet so ill give you this one instead, from a fic i might never even post:

“Oh, I meant to tell you, my mum called earlier, she asked if you’re okay.” Ashton’s mum always asks if Luke is okay. Exactly that way, is Luke doing okay?, like Luke gives off some kind of not-doing-okay vibe. He suspects it’s a leftover instinct from his and Ashton’s mutual breakdown a few years back, but honestly, he’s doing better now. It’s sweet of her to ask, but she could just ask about him the same way she asks about Michael and Calum. How’s Luke? would be fine.

“I am great,” Luke says. “How’s she? Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’s okay,” Ashton says. “She’s started taking Harry to look at some universities.” He pauses. “University. You know? What the fuck?”

“No way,” Luke says, and tries to work out if he’s meant to be surprised by that. He can’t remember how old Harry is. Clearly almost uni-age. Ashton’s told him this a million times, but Luke can’t keep track when the answer keeps changing. He doesn’t want Ashton to think he’s forgotten, so he just says, “That’s insane.”

15. What are some of your favorite tropes to write? Do they match the ones you read? answered this one here as well! i've managed to get unbelievably long-winded answering every single one of these questions so far so i won't write another answer for this one

21. Do you have any stories you’ve written completely but never posted? Why? Please tell us about them? yes!! i have a handful. let me hunt them down. okay final answer, i have five!

one is an au based on the prompt "we’re at a party and someone asks what your type is and you describe me perfectly while staring right at me” which i never posted because i wrote it a while ago and honestly i don't think it's good enough to post. also i kinda don't like the background character i made jack barakat. i could edit it. but. ehh

one is a fic that is set in the daydream jalex fic 'verse, but the only way it's relevant to that 'verse is because it has ace!jack, and it's highly personal and probably the most projection-heavy fic i've ever written and i never posted it because i'm nervous to be Known like that lol

one is technically emo lashton, but not actually set in the emo lashton 'verse that i've created, and that one is ALSO one of the most projection-heavy fics i've ever written. it's usually the fics that are full of projection but in a specific way that i think isn't really relatable that i write but don't end up posting. it's a good fic honestly i wouldn't be against posting it i just never have. also partially because i'm between two titles for that fic lol

one is.......something that was originally going to be set in a different fic universe (for a fic i havent posted or finished writing lol), but now i don't know if it will necessarily fit in that 'verse, so it's kind of its own very short but complete thing. i never posted it because (1) it's super short, less than 1k, and i don't like to post stuff that short, and also (2) just in case it DOES fit the fic 'verse, i don't wanna give away the ending, lmao

and lastly there's a fic i wrote in an excited haze when sam and meghna and i made the ssf and the aces plans, which is like, ot4 meeting but they're all internet friends. guess what inspired that. i'll never post it because it really wasn't written with the intention of posting it, i sent it to sam and meghna and they were the only people i wanted to read it and they have so <3

writing asks

#the snippet posted here is ALSO from a veeery projection-heavy fic and that is why i may never actually post it #it took me so long to finish answering this because while searching for completed fics that ive written i got distracted #rereading the robin hood au #dude it's so good i'm so mad #there are also a handful of fics in my docs that are like. probably 89% finished #and the way i could finish them is if i just edited them by deleting the last like three paragraphs in each #because i think the place where i took the plot in a couple was like. wrong. and if i undid that then i could finish the fic #but i'm too lazy #plus i hate deleting paragraphs of writing when it's good writing #yowza this is a long answer lol #megs #roommate #ask #anonymous #igarbagecannoteven

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froggycatvest · 5 years ago

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Title: There’s a cafeteria? Words: 1900 Ships: None Warnings: None Characters: Benrey, Gordon, Tommy, Dr. Coomer, Bubby Part 4 of 5 Part one HERE

Benrey’s POV. The group find a cafeteria, try to get some food cooking, but maybe the fire alarm goes off. (It is not because of Bubby).

---

There was suddenly the smell of fire, and Gordon was drawn to it immediately, eyes wide as he all but ran out of the pantry. He started yelling out, “Bubby! Why are you turning on all the stovetops?”

Benry followed to see that was exactly what was happening, along with Tommy and Dr. Coomer at another stove opening up the cans and setting things up there. Bubby shrugged.

“I’m bored. Mind your own business.”

Gordon stepped up to him, hand extended to point at the flames. “It is my business if you burn this place down.”

Bubby glanced between the stove and the other man, eyebrow raised. “How is that your business?”

“I don’t want to die,” Gordon said, as if it were obvious. “I don’t want to burn to death.”

Bubby stood there while Gordon began turning the burners off. “You’re more likely to die from smoke inhalation.”

Gordon shook his head slowly. “Don’t want that either.”

Tommy piped up. “We have--You don’t have to worry. Black Mesa is fitted with The Most Advanced Fire Protection System available.”

“You heard him,” Bubby said. “A system to protect fires.”

Dr. Coomer seemingly agreed. “Only the best in fire fighting technology here in Black Mesa. Along with our patented laser security system, automated door locks, and bulletproof windows. Safety is our number one priority.”

“All of which did nothing to help us.” Gordon looked around the ceiling. “Is it a sprinkler system? It’d probably shoot bullets at us instead.”

There was a lot of talk then, everyone spouting the first thing that came to mind with stuff like It’ll shoot Water at us. Not bullets and Well, we’d better shoot it first! and There’s no sprinkler system in Black Mesa and That’s for a lawn.

Gordon nodded in agreement, unable to address them all, so he just kept talking. “Look, I don’t have any confidence in anything here saving us. Just use one burner, alright? I’m going to see what else is around here.”

When he went for the cabinets, Benry snapped to attention and pushed past him. “I got it.” He never got to check this area from before when he was searching for food with Tommy, and didn’t want Gordon to find something good first.

“Oh, what?” Benry stopped and stared over his shoulder at the amused grin on Gordon’s face. “Am I not allowed to have food?”

Benry glanced down in thought. It had been funny riling Gordon Freeman up this entire time. It had been fun watching him trip over his words before turning away in exasperation to ignore him. Sometimes, Benry didn’t understand why the man would get all worked up when they were just talking. It wasn’t like he was always insulting him, after all.

Gordon leaned forward, hand and gunhand on his hips, and head tilting. “You think I’m going to steal it all or something?”

He also didn’t understand why, but every so often, the man tried to joke with him, would say nice things to him, even laughed at the things he would say. Gordon Freeman was weird.

“Yeah maybe.”

Gordon parroted him with a lighthearted, “Yeah, maybe.” When he came up behind Benry to get a look in an open cupboard, Benry quickly stepped to the side.

Gordon didn’t seem to notice, still cheerful. “Hey, grab me some cereal.”

Dr. Coomer called out from a stove where he was heating up the huge pot of soup. “Make sure you’re getting a balanced meal, Gordon. It’s good for brain power.”

“You’re telling me this?” Gordon whirled on him, asking teasingly. “The soda chugger? The sewage slurper? The toxic waste ingestor?”

“You should try it,” Benry said, box of cereal held in both hands.

Gordon noticed it, and dug around for a bowl. “Try what?”

“The sewage.”

“No thanks.” Gordon placed two bowls on the counter, sliding one towards Benry. “We’ve been in enough sewage to last me the rest of my life.”

“It’s a...it’s a balanced meal.”

Gordon finally gave him a good reaction, his entire attention on him now with amused disbelief. “How is it a balanced meal? How?”

Benry shrugged. “It has all the vitamins and minerals a body needs.”

“Maybe for you.”

There were suddenly three cartons of milk shoved into both of their faces, Gordon sputtering and leaning back at the intrusion. “Guys, guys.”

Bubby placed one on top of Benry’s helmet. “That’s a balanced meal.”

Dr. Coomer showcased his off. “Did you know milk contains almost every single nutrient your body requires to live?”

Tommy held his milk carton out in one hand. “Calcium and Vitamin D is important for strong bones. You can grow them back if you need them to.”

Benry joined in, his voice louder and almost robot-like as he emphasized every word. “Gordon Needs More Vitamin D.”

It was too much for Gordon Freeman, laughter filling the kitchen. “I can’t,” he wheezed, leaning against the counter. “I can’t deal with all of you at once.”

“Milk,” Dr. Coomer replied.

“The soup,” Gordon forced out between breaths. “All of you go back to watching the thing that has fire under it.”

Benry was content to just stand there while everyone else left, and he noticed Gordon looking him over while composing himself. “What?”

“You look...great,” Gordon said with a grin. “Like a cereal fairy.” He straightened up and grabbed the milk carton off his helmet. Benry had forgotten that was there. After it was placed on the counter, the cereal box was taken from him as well, and Gordon tried--but failed--to get the bag open.

“Tommy,” Gordon immediately called as he joined the other three. “Can you help me with this?”

Benry yelled after him with grand advice. “Just shoot it.” It would open it. It would work. But no one listened to him. He eyed the milk carton, then took out his gun.

It wasn’t like with the birds and other creatures; when he took the shot, a mess splattered everywhere.

It was quiet for a moment, everyone’s attention on him before Gordon asked, “Why?” while Dr. Coomer gave out praises of, “Nice shot, Benrey.”

Benry realized he was splattered down the front, but it wasn’t different than the blood and goop he was used to already. He put his gun away while Gordon approached him, staring and snickering.

“What did you think was going to happen?” Gordon said, biting his lip. “You’re a mess.”

“It’s open,” Benry stated simply.

“It’s destroyed,” Gordon corrected, looking pleased. “That was hilarious and it’s your fault.”

That’s what he got for trying to help. “It was your milk.” Which meant it was Gordon’s fault. He was the one that had wanted cereal. But Gordon didn’t get it, because he gestured towards Benry.

“It’s yours now.”

Dr. Coomer interjected with a brilliant idea. “If we start the sprinkler system, it’ll clean him off in no time.”

Which meant Gordon wouldn’t agree. “We aren’t doing that. He can use the sink.”

Benry shot at the ceiling.

“Stop that!” Gordon ordered, glancing up warily at where he was shooting. “I don’t want any kind of system, of any kind, to be activated down here. Nothing good comes from that.”

Benry’s gun disappeared. “I’m the security system.”

Gordon paused, as if really thinking about it. “Huh. I guess you are.”

Benry was sure he didn’t have to sound so surprised. He was right and telling the truth whenever he wasn’t lying. Gordon gave him a thoughtful look as he continued on.

“Ever think about doing another job? You’re not very good at this one.”

Dr. Coomer, at that moment, yelled out in victory. “Here it is!”

Even Benry’s attention shot over to where the man was near the doorway as he stood in a fighting stance next to a fire alarm station on the wall. He punched off the plastic cover, before pulling down on the handle.

Gordon was amazingly fast to react, eyes wide. “Dr. Coomer!”

A loud bell sound clanged around the room, lights from the alarm flashing brightly, but there was no spray of water anywhere.

Tommy cried out in all earnest, “Oh no, we have to get out of here!”

Gordon walked swiftly up to him to calm him. “Tommy, it’s a false alarm.”

“No, that’s illegal,” he said, strafing back and forth in distress. “You can’t do that intentionally.”

“You’ve tripped alarms multiple times, dude.”

Tommy stopped and stared at him, before looking here and there, quietly. He didn’t respond.

Bubby spoke up, sounding offended that no one had listened to him. “I told you there’s no sprinkler system.”

Gordon raised an eyebrow at that. “I think that’s illegal,” he said, and Bubby shrugged, uncaring.

“We’re not exactly abiding by most laws here in Black Mesa.”

Benry began to use his Voice to mimic the noise of the alarm out of boredom, and Gordon gave him an irritated look.

“It’s loud enough, thanks!”

“You don’t have to yell,” Benry scolded flatly, but Bubby started yelling, too.

“Turn it off already!”

Dr. Coomer examined the alarm, before straightening up to address everyone. “It seems I can’t. Fire alarms are not meant to be reset without the use of a key from authorized personnel or the fire department.”

Bubby whipped out his gun. “Not while I’m around.”

“Wait,” Tommy called out. “Benrey. You have the key.”

Benry turned towards him. “Huh?”

Gordon looked a little astonished. “You have a key for the alarm?”

“Yeah I’m the...I told you I’m the security system.”

He had responsibilities. He had lots of work. He had access to secure places. It was his job. Gordon Freeman seemed to forget that most of the time. It was kinda disrespectful.

“Do you have to be so disrespectful?”

Gordon blinked at that, then frowned. “I’m not being disrespectful,” he huffed out and gestured towards the blaring alarm. “Can you turn it off?

Benry stared at it, before staring at Gordon. “Why?”

Bubby’s voice got louder in exasperation. “Oh my god. If you don’t hurry up, I’m going to shoot this damn thing!”

It was one thing to mess with Gordon, but he didn’t care to mess with Dr. Bubby. The older man was fun and easy to listen to. Even though, sure, Bubby punched at him a few times once, but that was okay, they were friendly punches. The kind you did when you messed around with your bros. He barely felt them.

Benry took out a ring of keys, selected the correct one, and went to deactivate the alarm. When everything went quiet, there were sighs of relief.

He approached Bubby closely. “You can still shoot it if you want.”

Bubby eyed his gun and then grinned. “I should.”

Gordon groaned out, “Please don’t.”

“Yo don’t ruin his fun.”

“You know what’s fun? Not letting the food burn. Who was in charge of that? Bubby, you’re in charge of that now.” Gordon shrugged and ran his fingers through his hair. “Don’t know if that’s a good idea or a bad idea, but it’ll give you something to do.”

Dr. Coomer pumped a fist. “Excellent idea. Bubby is a wonderful leader.” He pulled Bubby along among his protest of That’s not fun. “You can burn it a little, then. How about that?”

Tommy bounded after them, and when Benry went to follow, Gordon stepped in front of him with a firm, “Not you.”

#hlvrai #benrey #i researched fire alarms for about one minute

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sebastianshaw · 5 years ago

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(I got stuff done with alt-Marauders who aren’t Haven and the Shaw! Pyro and Claudine, for @sammysdewysensitiveeyes! Sorry, I feel bad I kind of had Pyro get shut down in this one? I meant for the conversation to be less hostile but it ended up as kinda being SO THERE! at him? It just flowed that way, I hope it’s still enjoyable for you!) “Hey I know you’re friends with old Moneybags but don’t get on my ass like he does too!” Pyro had been awoken from a pile of bottles on the deck by Claudine, and he was in no mood for the talking-to she was besieging him with. “Come on, Claud, I thought we were pals!” “We are, and PALS don’t wreck my lab!” “I wasn’t in your lab!” “You were close enough that the flames you were setting off could react with chemicals in it! And then there wouldn’t be a lab! Or a ship for that matter.” “Alright alright I take your point,” Pyro said, hauling himself up, “Won’t do it again.” “I don’t believe that.” Pyro’s eyebrow raised, “You calling me a liar, love?.” “I’m saying most people don’t remember their promises when drunk.” “Well, I won’t get drunk on the ship.” Now Claudine’s brow raised. “Alright I won’t get THAT drunk on the ship,” he amended. “Right,” she said disbelievingly, “Even if you’re drinking with Shinobi so he’s not drinking alone.” “Hey now that’s not fair,” said Pyo. He felt defensive of Shinobi even though she was exactly right, and in fact BECAUSE she was exactly right. “True, sometimes it’s the other way around.” Pyro’s jaw dropped, “What is that supposed to mean?!” Claudine turned, and said over her shoulder, “I’d rather not be cruel to a friend, John. Just don’t get drunk on the boat.” “No, you tell me what that means!” St. John was NOT letting it go, hhe could TELL Claudine seen some weakness in him like she had Shinobi and he wanted to know it so he could tell her how wrong she was---especially if she was right. But she was just walking away instead, dismissing him. “Hey!” he reached out and grabbed her wrist. And Claudine Renko, Miss Sinister, turned and looked at him. And in that moment, knew he fucked up. The next moment, he was flying into the ocean.

After he’d hauled himself out, he’d been ready to torch her lab on purpose just out of sheer SPITE, or at least turn all her clothes to ashes, but after a long shower to wash away the saltwater and a nap to sleep away the hangover, he’d calmed down a bit. He did come to her lab though. ”Hey, uh...can I come in, Claudine?” ”Sure.” Okay, she didn’t sound angry, but not FRIENDLY either. He stepped in, but not too close. “Hey, uh, listen, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t of put my hands on you.” “No, you shouldn’t have, “ she said, not looking up from her computer, though St. John noticed she wasn’t actually typing on it, “It was most unwise.” “I don’t normally uh...I mean look in a fight all bets are off, but I don’t normally grab a lady like that. Just you’re kinda like Maddie to me. She turned her head and smirked, “One of the boys?” Pyro smiled, “Well yeah, you’re fun, you know, but still a lady and it was wrong. Don’t mean to be sexist but my Gran raised me with manners. “Gran didn’t raise you with self-preservation though I guess,” Claudine was between smirk and smile now, “But much appreciated.” She turned her chair around and continued, “It’s really nothing against you, I just REALLY don’t want this place going sky-high.” “Nah nah I get it!” Pyro put up his hands, “I’ll be way more careful and tell Shin we gotta keep the partying on land. Can’t say he’ll listen but hey he’s not the one you gotta worry about right?” “Well, that depends,” Claudine said, “His phasing does disrupt electrical systems, but I’ll have a talk with him.” “I don’t recommend threats, they just make him er...” “Horny, I know. Don’t worry. If the stick doesn’t work, I’ll try to proverbial carrot. Thanks for coming by, Pyro.” “We good?” “We’re very good. And I’m sorry about tossing you into the water. I should have just knocked you back.” “Ah, it’s fine! I was wondering though---” He could tell from her face that she knew what was coming “--what you meant about---” Claudine cut him off with a sigh, “Really, St.John? We JUST made up.” “Yeah really. Come on, let’s get it out in the open.” She sighed again, “It’ll drive you crazy if I don’t, huh?” “Yup.” “Which is not my problem, but you’ll make it my problem.” “Yup.” “You’re a real pest, you know that?” “Yup!” A third sigh, “Alright, fine, here it is.” She put him in mind of exasperated older sister he’d never had. ”Shinobi parties because of his issues, you because of yours. And it’s easy to see what his probably are---I mean you’ve MET Sebastian---and I don’t know much about you, but knowing what I do, not hard to guess. You left quite a legacy.” And just like that, he was set off again, all attempts at making up forgotten. Through the slew of outraged Aussie slang, Claudine shouted, “Hey! You asked! And I’m not insulting you! I’m just saying what happened!” “Well it’s a low blow!” “Well it’s right isn’t it?” “That’s why you shouldn't have said it!” he said, and then realized by saying that he’d just admitted she was indeed right. But rather than being satisfied at this confirmation, Claudine just looked irritated, ”Look, you got a raw deal. I understand why you don’t want it brought up. And why you’ve got to just act like an idiot sometimes. But no one here is looking down at you for dying, so chill.” “Chill?! Chill?!” All the her bunsen burners in the room erupted in flames, ”Do you know what I went through?! Do you?!” Claudine addressed him in a glowering calm, “Yes. I know exactly what you went through. The way the Legacy virus worked it would begin inserting introns--junk DNA sequences--into the transcription codings of the victim's mutant RNA. It literally changed your DNA. Your disease was no longer just an invader, it was a part of you. I can relate to that, Pyro. I’m living with the same thing every day---LOOK at me!” He did. And he thought of how the longer and longer he’d had the virus, he had seen it in the mirror more and more. The lumps, the lesions, at a certain point he hadn’t been looking at himself anymore, he’d been looking at the sickness itself in a flesh suit. He still saw it sometimes. And he realized what it must be like for her to see this ghost-white face and red diamond reflected back at her in every glass, in every eye that looked at her, in every mind she read. The flames went down. ”I...” “And don’t think it’s not the same because I wasn’t going to die. I was, Pyro. What else do you call it when everything that’s YOU stop existing and becomes someone else? what else do you call it when everything that might scientifically be called a soul is no longer existent in your body?” “Alright, I...” “So I do know what you went through. Your body’s betrayal. Knowing your clock is ticking, but not when it will stop. and the simultaneous relief it’s over, but the disbelief it can really be for real, and no idea how to cope with that. So that also means... She inhaled deeply and looked down, ”I do know I shouldn’t have gone there.” There was a long silence between them. And then she put a hand on his shoulder. And he smiled at her. And she smiled back, “Now get the hell out of my lab, dude, before the sprinklers go off!”

#st john allerdyce #Claudine Renko #miss sinister #fic #writing #alt marauders #out of shirt

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binary5tar1117 · 5 years ago

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I'm so big I keep hitting my belly on stuff and it's annoying!!! I did the math and am slightly terrified to realize that in 7ish weeks (possibly up to 9 depending on doctor suggestions) I will have a new born. I've been so caught up in dealing with day to day life that the whole oh BTW you're going to be bringing a tiny new life into the world that will require constant care has kinda been back burnered. Its not like I've forgotten I'm pregnant. I mean with the giant belly and wiggling going on semi constantly inside its hard to forget. (Side note.... how do those women in those shows not realize they are pregnant for the whole 9 months???) But like, I have had very little time to plan or do anything to prepare for when the baby is born. I dunno if I'll get a baby shower with social distancing and I was kinda banking on it for some basics like onsies and diapers. (Not financially necessarily, I'll be okay there.... for now.) I dunno where I'm going with this exactly but it just kinda hit me that... even with everything going on I'm still gonna have a baby in less than two months. Obviously its not a real surprise or anything just... the dates kinda sneaking up on me.

#not bts #personal #pregnancy

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hallucinosims · 6 years ago

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Hiya! For all the new people reading your story, and unable to go back to the beginning, could you possibly tell us what’s happened so far to where you are now?:) Thankyou in advance if you can!

yeah, totally! First things first, if it’s more of a time thing then I totally understand reading stories takes up a lot of time, but if you ever do get the chance to check out the beginning you can find it right here! Each post has links back to the beginning, the post before and the post after! Now, into the summary. Under Read more for your convenience.

In Short: Play the Game is a story about Love (come to), Loss (Never is an awfully long time), and Found Family told (Hide me safe away) throughout three intertwining stories.

The story “technically” begins shortly after Marion Galere (Rowan and Reid’s biological mother) and Damon Benj (Reagan’s biological father) get married. This is marion’s second marraige and Damon’s first technical marriage even though he was in two long term relationships before hand that he would consider being life partners with but whatever. These two getting married basically fulfills this on going fate/prophecy/curse that hundreds of years ago was made that established the two families. One with a long long history of being monstrous and like the first of the leviathans/ first monsters (Benj, the current iteration of the line goes by that last name even though the majority of the rest of the family has a different last name). The other side spun into something of a culty, no way in no way out sort of idealogy (Galeres. I know this is technically mispelled but I don’t have a steady enough internet connection to copy and paste accent a cute) The Galeres, ever paranoid throughout their human existence, ends up cursing the lines in such ways that when they join again (which they inevitably will) it’ll be a fight to take over the line that supposedly got the better half of the deal. The Benjs are pushing a solid Zero in the wins department so far but their own side started to grow in prominence and power as time continued on so they were pretty solid without the winning thing.

Anyway, their grandfather (a Galere) tells them all these things and they end up finding proof of that in the form of these chess piece totems. Life continues on poorly. Marion and Damon are married but unhappily. Reid has already lost his other mother (Annabeth, worked as a drug mule and tough guy basically but that’s more All that matters today stuff) to a huge fire incident. Reagan is put on a pedestal due to Damon’s fear of loosing her to the game/curse. Rowan is almost forgotten about by his mother and step father so he kinda gets identity crises and doesn’t have a strong sense of self (mood). There’s an incident with Reid in which he almost gets killed at school for kissing a boy and before he can get officially expelled (not because he’s gay but for other stuff he did) they move across the country and try to start over. Well, not start over more like run towards their past because act 1 and 2 ends with all the kids learning this story about their identies that were bestowed upon them. They learn about their totems and what they represent (Reid = Knight: leader, determined, stubborn, headstrong. Rowan = Rook: dedicated, loyal but to a fault, always has walls up. Reagan = Bishop: Spiritual, follower, personality depends on what they believe in) And uh... then the stories kinda split. Reagan and vampires is a big plot point. Rowan and finding his sense of self (ie Maren Goodall his best friend who disappeared one day) and Reid trying to find comfort in himself by the means of other people Wahoo.

Reid and Dorian start dating (i forgot to mention he has a girlfriend who’s basically his beard that his mom told him to get but they’re still dating even though Reid and Dorian are also kinda together) More and more of their past keeps brings itself forward in ways such as visions headaches and other things whenever they are in the old house that they moved to in Mass (that Marion grew up in) and the connections to their totems beginning to click more into place. Come To and the knight because knights and doomed romance. Reid falls for Dorian sort of even though he feels he isn’t good enough for him and is still dating Makenna. Never is an Awfully long time and the rook and Loss. Rowan starts almost spiraling from person to person as he attempts to find someone to fill the whole in the walls he had built up for himself and ends up finding Evie Del Gato who is almost the antithesis of Maren and they decide to become good friends and she even helps him look for Maren as well as a few other friends. The Bishop and Hide me safe away and the idea of spirituality and family. Reagan has a hard time finding where she stands in the middle of things because she begins having visions about Vladislaus Straud, who is revealed in this act to be apart of her family line. She is also connected to the Vatores who are basically in resistence to Straud and the leviathan order (the name hasn’t been revealed technically in story yet but it’s not a spoiler so) which is a power heirarchy of all the humaniod creatures that walk the earth. But vampires wrote it so they put themselves pretty high on the list.The siblings don’t really interact heavily in this act as they got their own arcs going on.

This act ends around a little after the winter holidays

Rowan starts dating someone a lot more like the best friend he lost (Kyle jackubus) Reid and Dorian are getting rockier as more people begin to find out their little secret. Reagan is...still trying her best. She learns about her bio mom (Harper Bridges) from Damon but then decides to leave and stay more often with the Vatores for her own safety as whenever she isn’t there she feels like Straud could just pop up and ruin her life whenever. Which begins to happen more and more as nightmares of him hurting people she love start to become more frequent. Reid has visions of his mom (Annabeth Holtz) more frequently as well in a sense of guilt and stuff about her death. Rowan starts seeing Maren in a paranoid frenzy after her dissapearance. So they’re all having a generally pretty bad time on the mental front but they keep trying to put that on the back burner to lead normal lives and disregard the stuff their siblings are going through because “I’m dealing with stuff too damnit” Even though in this chapter they are beginnig to find more trust in each other because they are the only other people who would genuinely get it. Marion and Damon are often in and out of Massachusetts right now because as the game continues on they want less and less involvement because they’ve done all they can do to save their kids and now nothing they do would make a difference anyway so they decide it best to stay away and not watch their family turn against each other. And this act isn’t done yet so that’s pretty much all I can say

Sorry this ended up being long and unintelligble at some moments, this is a WIP and will be in my ptg extras tab so it can be checked up on if you want to speed through the story.

#nonsims #saviorhide #hall posts #ptg extras #this is a lot so.. uh bear with me #Anonymous

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hachidorinoko · 6 years ago

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# all the odds >:3

50 headcanons || Accepting anything with an even number...!

Ya gotta be odd to be Number One!

OHHH BOY HERE WE GO… (the rest are under a cut because oh YES, I did all 25 of them and thoroughly enjoyed it.)

1. what’s your muse’s favourite album of all time / favorite artist?

Start with an easy one - Tenji’s favourite album is FAKE STAR ~I’m just a Japanese Fake Rocker~ by Kuroyume, and his favourite artist is Kuroyume’s lead singer Kiyoharu. Do NOT get him started on this topic of conversation because he Will. Not. Stop.

3. do they take baths or showers? do they prefer one over the other?

Showers to clean off, but Tenji loves a soak when he can. Back home in Gifu, his family have a traditional small tub which is heated from beneath by a wood burner to keep it warm so that the whole family can make use of it, one after another. He kinda misses it, but he’s also a big fan of onsen/sento, so since moving closer to Kamurocho, he goes there rather than waste water at home.

5. how many blankets / pillows do they like to have on their bed?

Tenji likes the idea of having a bed covered in fluffy blankets and pillows, but in reality he tends to kick them all away in the night so he’s given up bothering. In his apartment, he has a futon bed frame with a light comforter and a sheet - if he could choose, he’d just have a roll-up futon, but as he’s living in a furnished apartment at the moment, he’s stuck with the bed taking up too much space. (He does keep one fluffy blanket in the cupboard for winter though - cheaper than using the heater!)

7. do they wake up groggy or alert? do they like mornings?

Very groggy and gravelly until he’s had a coffee. Mornings are the WORST as far as Tenji’s concerned. He’s absolutely a night owl, and will stay out all night and get the first train home to sleep if he can. Generally, the only time he sees 7am is if he’s approaching it from the other side. He thinks 11am is an early start…

9. what do they smell like? do they use perfume or cologne?

Cheap cologne - and far too much of it, most of the time. Because it’s budget, it wears off pretty quick so he’s constantly re-applying it. He likes fruity scents on other people, but his own choice of cologne is quite… distinctly aftershavey, with sandalwood, neroli and vanilla. His favourite is Chanel Platinum Egoiste, but it’s so expensive he’s been carrying an almost-empty bottle around for a year in the hope one of his customers might buy it for him as a gift. (It’s nose-curdlingly strong, so it’s probably for the best that he doesn’t have it because he‘s usually half-drowned in it!!)

11. bar soap or liquid? do they like loofahs?

Liquid! He’s somebody who really hates the idea of finding hairs on the soap, and he’s so not about that arse/face soap life 😂 and as for loofahs, he could tell tales of loofahs which would make your hair curl in his Dragon’s Ward/Fourth Chairman verse, phew! 😳 Overall he’s not exactly a fan of bathroom paraphernalia because he feels that most of it just collects mold, but he has a pair of exfoliating gloves that he swears by — because if you wear that much fake tan, you gotta be smooooooth!

13. do they like the room cold or hot when they sleep?

Cold! He’s big on cuddling close for warmth, but he’s also one of those evil creatures with ice feet and yes, he will put them on your back when you’re least expecting it. He’s quite weak to temperature change and tends to overheat in the night though, so a cold room suits him better and makes it easier to regulate. Just don’t be surprised if you wake up wearing him like a scarf because he was having a cold shiver.

15. do they know how to drive? do they like to drive?

Tenji is a paper driver! His parents paid for him to learn and take his test, but he’s never owned a car and he hasn’t driven since. He doesn’t really enjoy driving much, and when he moved to study in Yokohama, he found that the transport systems in the bay and Tokyo areas are so good that there was never any need to bother with his own wheels. His friend Arata loves driving though, so they have hired a car together and driven out to the beaches in Chiba a couple of times. Tenji always says he’ll help with the driving, but he never does…

17. do they have pets? what kind? dogs, cats, etc?

No pets, and they’re not really on his radar. He likes animals well enough, but he never had pets at home growing up so it doesn’t really occur to him to get one. If he had a pet though, I imagine it would be a small ‘fashion breed’ dog like a pomeranian or french bulldog that he could carry around in a bag on his shoulder and spoil with all the snazzy accessories and tasty treats.

19. what are their phobias? do they have any at all?

Tenji doesn’t really have any phobias as such, but he’s a small fish in a big ocean, so he’s viably scared of quite a lot of things. The things which truly frighten him and keep him awake at night tend to be quite philosophical - he fears being forgotten, being outshone in the eyes of those he cares about.

21. did they have any fears growing up that they’ve since conquered?

Tenji has always had a sort of logical/illogical fear of falling off his bicycle, and it’s one of those things which is sort of like vertigo - the more mental space he gives the concept, the more he has that strange urge to engineer a crash outcome. As he’s gotten older and as he uses his bike more often to get to and from the station/supermarket, it has lessened, but it’s still very much present if he were to give it headspace.

23. how do they show fear? sweating, shaking, blankness, anger, etc?

It’s very obvious to see when Tenji is scared - he shrinks into that fight-or-flight pose as if ready to flee, and becomes visibly anxious, looking around, licking his lips. He tends to just start talking at this point - yammering on about anything, pointing out weird details, making odd conversation to try and distract from his fright. Saying that, talking is pretty much his coping mechanism for everything.

25. do they get scared easily? does loud noises, shouting, etc, scare them?

Yes, Tenji gets scared pretty easily. Sudden loud noises definitely make him jump - you’ll probably see him hit the deck if something goes bang close to him. That said, loud places like clubs, gigs, raves and parties don’t bother him at all - it’s just that sudden sharp shouts/screams/alarms etc will make him jump something awful. Good luck extricating his grip from around your neck if he jumps up on your shoulders to hide. 😂

27. what do they never, ever want to speak of, ever?

I can’t tell you, or I’d have to kill you……… truthfully, not so much, but there are certain things he would never tell certain people. For instance, he would go to extreme lengths to keep his parents from finding out that he dropped out of university after just one year and frittered his student loan (and extra money they sent him) on fancy clothes and nights out to live his host lifestyle. He’s not even sure what they would do if they found out, but he wouldn’t be able to cope with the weight of his father’s disappointment.

29. is there something they’d like to change about themselves physically?

Quite a lot, really, though most of it he changes cosmetically. He would like to be quite a bit taller, and so he always wears heeled boots to try and add a couple of inches. He’s 163cm/5’6”. He would also like to be naturally tanned, but he is quite pale-skinned really so he slathers on fake tan to get the look he wants - most of the collars of his shirts are stained orange as a result. He dyes his hair and wears contacts - he’s happy with how he looks with all these alterations, but it belies a dissatisfaction in his natural appearance, which is a shame.

31. do they have good fashion sense? or do they just wear whatever?

I don’t know about *good* fashion sense, but Tenji definitely has a passion for fashion! He wears mostly whites/greys/blacks and muted hues like khaki with silver accessories, and favours a distressed look, torn jeans and fashionably ripped shirts/sweaters. He’s a walking Men’s Egg model and is very taken in by trends - he will buy things because they’re ‘cool’, and then never wear them again if they fall out of style. A victim of fast fashion, he does have a few timeless things which he will always wear no matter what.

33. are they too hard on themselves over the little things?

Not so much hard on himself - he doesn’t really tend to think too much when he doesn’t have to - but Tenji finds it very hard to take rejection/correction from other people. He takes criticism very personally and can get very defensive and upset over the tiniest thing.

35. are they possessive over their things? or over other people? both?

Not particularly. You can bet if he lends you something precious, he’ll be asking for it back, but generally he doesn’t mind sharing. Arata tends to walk all over him and take his stuff, and he just kinda lets him do it because he doesn’t like confrontation. As for people - so long as he feels like he is important in a relationship, he’s not particularly possessive in a general sense - however, he can get extremely jealous if he feels that somebody is getting more affection/attention than he is. (This goes hand in hand with his fear of being forgotten or left behind - ‘what if he/she likes them more than they like me??’)

37. what do they think about polyamorous relationships? would they do it?

Being that his job requires the upkeep and management of many semi-intimate relationships (some closer than others, generally more romantic than physically intimate), Tenji can see the value in polyamory. He probably would consider entering a polyamorous relationship, but there would have to be a lot of communication and reassurance involved in it. Polyamory requires a certain amount of maturity which he doesn’t really have, but could be guided into if his partner(s) had more experience. He’s kind of wound up in a polyamorous relationship in his Diamondé verse - he’s been tied up with Sakurazawa while Sakurazawa is publicly with Paprika. Both Tenji and Paprika are aware of this, and are aware that the other partner supplies something they cannot or would not want to. The communication between Sakurazawa and his partners is terrible, but Tenji and Paprika stay in touch and have a relationship of their own (whilst neither romantic nor physical) which gives this arrangement some balance it might otherwise lack - Paprika understands Tenji’s immaturity and weakness, and tries to protect and mother him to an extent. Paprika does all the heavy lifting in that particular relationship - she is too kind for her own good, but an incredibly strong woman trying to hold her own heart together. Tenji is totally oblivious to the effort required in holding up the sky in that sense.

39. do they have siblings? if so, how many? do they like them?

Nope, Tenji’s an only child. Mummy and daddy’s perfect little boy… if only they knew.

41. where would they want to live if they could live anywhere? why?

A swanky penthouse in Kamurocho! He’s not particularly imaginative when it comes to that kind of thing - once he has a goal in mind, he will plough everything into achieving it. Right now, that’s Become The Best Host In Tokyo, and everything he wants are the trappings which go with that. He’s got grand designs on a walk-in wardrobe with automated hangars… heated floors, smart lighting, you know the drill.

43. do they like living alone or with another person / other people?

Tenji currently lives in a share house with roommates that he doesn’t know and barely sees outside of passive aggressive notes on the fridge, and he’s not really a fan of the setup. That said, he would relish living with friends or partners, but they might need a spare room to get a break from him following them around and chatting at all hours of the night 😂 ‘ Whatcha watching? Is it good? Did you see the first one? Is that Ishikawa? Man, did you see…’

45. what’s their dream job / profession? do they have one?

Tenji loves being a host more than anything else in the world (to an alarming extent, if you ask his peers.) If you ask him, he’ll tell you that’s his dream job. Besides that though - and he has no real intention to pursue this at this stage - he loves acting, and thinks he would make a great talk show host/TV personality. If he got scouted, he would totally go for it! (There was a host TV personality about 10 years ago who always wore a white suit and carried a bunch of red roses - his gimmick was mainly just flirting with the camera, I wish I could remember his name cus I’d show a picture otherwise - Tenji feels like a guy like that is wasting his opportunities, but he’s also a little jealous that a guy like that can get such airtime.)

47. do they like tv shows or movies? or neither?

Tenji is more of a movies guy - hasn’t got the attention span for a box set, he gets twitchy and distracted - but he loves variety TV shows, the daytime and late night dross. He learns a lot of odd facts and trivia from these shows, and they prove useful in his day job. How else would one discover the signature dish of Ehime?? And that Tsuyoshi from SMAP is allergic to peas!? Or how they flush toilets in space???

49. do they have a creative outlet? if so, what is it?

Tenji is more of a consumer than a creator - the closest to having a creative outlet is probably karaoke, which he LOVES. He doesn’t write music or play an instrument, but he sure can sing, and he’ll sing just about anything so if you need a duet partner, he’s your man!

#tricksterfinale #[ask]#[answered]#[headcanon]#[ srsly THANK U!! i had way too much fun doing these! ]

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