#unless youre one of two people in which case hey. hey guys.

[acaciapines]

obviously if you’re busy leave this alone but: your tag essay has made me VERY intrigued about Dess and Azzy’s relationship in this AU. Tell me about it?

(also, did you see they did an announcement about Starship Iris season 3? It’s finally gonna happen!)

okay IM HERE TO TALK LOL i will NEVER not talk about this au <3 uhhh under a cut bc. really i should just expect these get super long.

big important note up top: all of this is in! early stages! things are not fully formed and researched yet so please keep that in mind as you read this. ideas might change and will get deeper as i do more work for this au, but since rn im focusing on owl house most of these are my ideas i've had without time to do deeper dives into them.

okay so with asriel i've always sort of written him as this guy who like...has an idea of what is 'normal' in his head, ie, what society wants from people, and what it doesnt want, and he has tried his hardest his entire life to always fit into this box. (think about i know im not well--this is why he's always seen kris as a human. being nonhuman is abnormal and gets you punished in society. to an extent this is also how he views dess being aromantic.)

i think a lot of this comes from fear--asriel IS for sure contorting himself and actively harming himself to stay inside this narrow box of 'normal' (think of this as another sort of prophecy--these are all touching on the same themes). and he applies this same mentality to other people BECAUSE of this fear, because he doesnt want his loved ones to be hurt, to be punished, ostracized, etc by society--which are i wanna be clear VERY MUCH THINGS THAT HAPPEN--but in doing this he sort of just hurts the people he loves. because instead of being someone who rejects these boxes hes like. no we gotta be good and fit into the boxes and then everything will be okay.

so when it comes to dess, dess has always very much Done Her Own Thing, consequences be damned. partly this is who she is, partly this is hashtag undiagnosed and untreated mental illness, the onset of which happens around when shes 18 and everything is going down with the bunker (which is NOT helping at ALL). and so when dess comes back from the bunker asriel does very much go 'oh. shes delusional.' and proceed to be No Help At All.

and like, the thing is dess IS very much having a psychotic break. this bit is very much still in deep research (sidenote: anybody in my audience who has experience w/ these things. feel free to hit me up/dm me lol i'd love to talk through some of my ideas as a sort of preliminary sensitivity read, but of course only do this if you are up to it, no pressure lol bc again we're in early stages) but she has schizoaffective + bipolar disorder. dark worlds dont help with this, asriel SUPER doesnt help with this (he doesnt know her actual disorder--neither of them do, this is the onset of things. but tbf even if he did he Would Not Help asriel is essentially doing everything wrong here.) and what dess needs is literally one single person in her corner but the person who is supposed to be in her corner (azzy) is basically being like 'you are making this up' and shes like im NOT, and everything is all mixed together, terrible, bad, awful, and eventually everything culminates and. we know what happens.

(side note but this is why she and chara work real well together actually--chara gets her when asriel doesnt!!)

asriel never actually like. tells anybody about this though. in his head after its assumed dess and kris have died he sort of just. is like well this proves it. i cant let anybody else i care about go that far EVER AGAIN, because if i was a better friend i would've noticed and i wouldve stopped it and made dess "normal." (yes asriel sucks here. the focus is on the kids but. he's getting an arc. i do promise he will get better but. that doesnt really fix what he's done in the past.)

and all of this is like. it fucking sucks for the people around asriel. in hurting himself he's hurting his loved ones--it pushes dess away, and that relationship is never going to be the same. even when asriel realizes how he fucked up i dont think dess really forgives him. because if asriel had just believed her, or at least even if he didnt actually took her seriously and tried to help, shes like. things wouldve gone differently. and asriel knows this too.

and then when it comes to NOELLE, well. asriel's always been very overprotective of her. terrified the world is going to hurt her. and so when noelle starts experiencing things, things she cant tell if theyre real or not...

she doesnt tell him. she doesnt tell anybody. she keeps it all to herself, and this means its a hell of a lot easier for the player/red soul to manipulate her. and nobody finds out until its too late.

[alphajocklover]

Hey, I've been in a relationship with my Korean boyfriend for some years now, and he keeps telling me things about this InstaJock app, and how he's gonna use it to make himself the biggest, most dominant muscular jock ever... I'm usually the one who tops though, so I'm a bit concerned over what that entails, could you help me out? I don't want to lose my twink...

I’ll admit, I’m a little unsure on how to answer your question, mainly because I’m not entirely sure how to interpret it. I might just be overthinking things, but to me it seems like your question can be interpreted in two different way. Both interpretations suggest a different kind of person asking and each have a different answer. So, let’s look at them both.

Our first scenario: you are a concerned boyfriend who is worried that InstaJock, a mysterious and possibly dangerous app that turns the user into a jock, will change your boyfriend in ways he doesn’t fully comprehend. You’re worried because you’re a loving boyfriend who is naturally worried about the man you love messing around with mysterious technology and altering his personality to the point he’s like a different person. If that’s the case my advice is to just talk to him. If you’re worried he’s rushing into this, tell his as much, and talk to him about why he wants to become a jock in the first place. Maybe he’ll go through with it, maybe he won’t, but if you talk about it beforehand things will probably be much better for both of you, and I’m sure you’ll be able to work this out. Maybe you’ll even get a hot jock boyfriend out of it.

The second scenario is that you’re not concerned about your boyfriend literally changing his identity, you’re concerned because you want to be the top. Which… honestly is kind of shitty man. Like, I get worrying about being sexually compatible with your boyfriend, but when you hear the love of your life is using a magic app to change basically everything about themselves, you’re first thought shouldn’t be ‘how will I be able to fuck him if he’s bigger than me.’ Lucky for you I’m going to give you an answer anyway. Hell, I’ll give you 3 possible answers.

Number 1: Top the Jock. I can’t believe I have to explain this, but just because he’s a jock doesn’t mean he’ll be a top. Sure most jocks are dominant studs who think with their dicks, but it’s possible to be a jock and bottom. There are submissive jocks, power bottom jocks, and plenty of vers jocks. Even if you both end up as tops, you could find a way to make it work. A lot of people do. But something tells me that’s not the answer that you really want. So let’s move onto our next answer.

Number 2: Become the Jock. If you don’t want your boyfriend to use InstaJock, one of the things you could do is use it first. Now, that won’t actually stop him from using the app, but considering his obvious infatuation with jocks I’m betting that if you became one, he’d do whatever you want. Jocks have a way of getting what they want, and I’m better a Korean twink like your boyfriend would be putty in your hands. He wouldn’t become a jock unless you wanted to, and you’d never lose your twink. This one is the one I think you’d like best, but… personally I enjoy the 3rd option the most.

Number 3: Join the Jock. This one is pretty similar to number 2, with one key difference: you both become jocks. Since you were bigger to begin with you’ll most likely be bigger after you get jockified, and then not only will you have a boyfriend with enough muscle to handle getting topped by your new beefy jock self, you’ll have a fellow jock to bro out with!

I’ll be honest, I can’t tell you what to do. I don’t know enough about your situation to know what’s right for you or your boyfriend. But let me know how it all works out in the end. I’m sure whatever happens… it’ll be very hot.

**hey guys! I have to say I had a lot of fun with this prompt. I kind of have a thing for buff Asian guys, if you can’t tell, and it’s always fun to do InstaJock stuff. I am sorry to say that I have no idea if anyone pictured is Korean or just generally Asian. Finding specific pictures online is hard so I tend to go with the closest I can get. Anyways, stay tuned!**

[olderthannetfic]

Hey. Maybe not the place. But people treat your ask box like a forum so 🙏 I thought I was ace because porn does nothing for me and I only like erotica/doujinshi if I like the characters. But I recently discovered watching wrestling does something for me. Is this really weird? How do I know where I fit?

--

I will gleefully embrace the identity of basement-dwelling gremlin who prefers horny fiction to actually dating or having sex with other people.

But porn tastes aren't what defines sexual orientation.

Neither is willingness to get off the couch.

Are you attracted to people, anon? That's usually how people define the various identities on that spectrum: no attraction, very occasional attraction way below what's seen as commonplace, attraction only when you know someone well, etc. (Which, of course, brings up the question of what level is "normal" and whether someone's judging based on Hollywood nonsense or on what's actually typical.)

For me personally, mainstream porno movies have actors I find un-hot wearing clothing I find libido-killing in ugly environments with bad lighting and camerawork. The scenarios lack the psychological depth needed to interest me, and there's little sense of intimacy.

This has nothing to do with orientation and everything to do with film craft.

Doujinshi of characters I'm already familiar with have a lot more context for what's going on, and this can add a lot of zing to kinks or increase the apparent intimacy.

Wrestling has plotlines. It has deeply charismatic stars. It has different body types than a lot of porn. There's nothing odd about finding it hot but not liking the porno movies you've been exposed to.

Plenty of people prefer all of the horny film festival favorites of the 90s to actual porno movies. It seems like funding dried up for those kinds of movies for a decade or two, but they used to be common.

I preferred the kinkier ones. Crash, for example, was a staple of my teenage viewing. Not the cringey one that won too many awards: the pervert one with the eight billion scenes of people licking each other's scars like they were performing oral.

It really digs into the psychology of kink... in addition to being far more visually beautiful and starring far hotter people than most of the commercial porn I've seen. Same deal with The Pillow Book or ¡Átame! or Maurice or Bound.

I've been seeing articles lately talking about a return to 90s levels of sex in arty movies. People point to the likes of Call Me By Your Name and Saltburn.

Live action commercial porno movies do vary, obviously, but it's just so, so, so common to find them tacky or boring while liking other forms of porn, even other live action sex scenes.

Hell, even for poorly shot stuff, I've never seen even amateur porn capture the vibes of this one long-deleted youtube video of a guy giving a lecture on anal massage and treating his subject like a prop while lecturing to a big group of onlookers.

--

Sometimes, people just aren't very into casual sex, and horny art where they can fantasize about people who actually know each other is better than horny art about the pizza delivery guy. Sure, there are pornos that try to have more plot, but porn stars are generally good at being porn stars, not at subtle and naturalistic acting.

Wrestlers are hardly subtle, but they do do different acting from your average porno, and there's more continuing plotline. Unless you mean... like... college wrestling? (In which case, Kink.com has or had some series where people wrestle to decide who gets to top. Wrestling is hardly a niche interest.)

For kinksters, the context and psychology often matter a lot. Showing an object with a lot of cultural baggage, like shiny black leather, can be hot, but the viewer might need more, and your average porno isn't geared up to provide that.

--

Anyway, if you want to determine your own orientation, your interest in art isn't necessarily going to help that much.

If you're only rarely attracted to people, and you have to know them well first, you could be demisexual, but you could equally well be shy or nervous or depressed or repressed or too busy and stressed to spend much time noticing your own feelings—or just surrounded by people who aren't your type. Only your personal interpretation of your internal experience can determine which it is.

But no, being horny for wrestling is not weird.

[berryhobii]

Nerd Hunter (teaser)

Pairing: nerd!Jeon Wonwoo x black!female!reader

Word Count: 596(teaser) 5.3K(full fic)

Warnings: Pining, kind of a slow burn, strangers to lovers, feelings, Smut(18+ but I don’t control what you consume), corruption kink, slight dom/sub undertones, a little girl on girl action, rough s*x, manhandling, fingering(f receiving), oral(m and f receiving), protected(do this) and unprotected s*x(don’t do this unless you’re sure), BACKSHOTS, mating press, dumbification, spit kink, creampies

𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂: he was supposed to be just another conquest—another notch in your studded belt, another victory to mount on your wall but when that bespectacled nerd with the cutest smile worms his way into your heart, your gun jams and now you’re caught in a stampede of feelings that you weren’t sure how to escape….did you even want to?

Release Date: TBD

~

Your hazel eyes wandered over the packed crowd of drunk college students, glossed lips leaving a sticky film on your straw as you sipped on whatever fruity concoction Kyla had poured into your cup.

The party was in full swing—drinks were flowing, the music was bumping with the greatest hits of the early 2000s, and there was no doubt there were about 7 people having sex upstairs. If you were lucky, you and another person would make 9 but that was proving to be more difficult than you thought. Despite all the friends that surrounded you, you were still so incredibly bored.

You needed something to do. You needed someone to do.

“Daddy’s home!” Mingyu bellowed once he reached your group, holding two cases of Twisted Tea in the air with his beefy arms. Cheers erupted at the sight of your group’s sunshine, Kyla jumping up from her seat next to you to run into his chest and whisk him into a kiss that got heated quicker than a Chick Fil A worker could say my pleasure.

Hoshi threw a cup at the pair, groaning loudly in disgust. “Get a room! I’d like to stay innocent, thank you.”

Seungcheol scoffed. “Innocent? You and Jasmine fuck so much, you could get a condom sponsorship. You do it at least 6 times a day.”

A chorus of laughter rang out at the expense of an embarrassed Jasmine, her hands flying up to cover her face whereas her boyfriend was smugly grinning, not at all ashamed of his sexual attraction to his girlfriend.

“Hey! We stopped using condoms a little while ago.” He revealed and Jasmine wanted nothing more than to fade into obscurity right now. “Besides, we only did it twice today, it would have been three if we didn’t get disrupted in the car on the way here-oof.” His words cut off when Jasmine hit him in the chest, her eyes screaming at him to shut the hell up but the damage was already done.

Seungcheol’s face dropped, the gears in his brain turning before he said, “wait but…..I drove us here.”

A pause of awkward silence followed as the realization washed over everyone; Kyla popped her lips as Mingyu coughed, Jihoon lifted his glass to look at the bottom of it for some reason, and your eyes went to that spot in the corner which became increasingly interesting at the moment.

Hoshi cleared his throat, checking the imaginary watch on his wrist. “Well would you look at the time? Come on, baby. We have to go volunteer at that otter daycare. Stay blessed, my brothers and sisters.” He rushed, ushering Jasmine off his lap and leading her away from the group.

“KWON SOONYOUNG! If I find nut in my car, you’re dead!” Seungcheol threatened lividly, closely following behind the scampering couple.

The remainder of you looked at one another before breaking out in laughter once again.

“Those 3 are ridiculous.” Mingyu commented with a shake of his head.

“For real.” Kyla agreed. “Anyway, baby. Do you want a drink?”

“Let me go put these in the kitchen first.” He motioned to the drinks he had brought. Then, his eyes lit up as he remembered something. “Oh yeah! I want to introduce you guys to my friend, Wonwoo.”

Moving to the side, Mingyu revealed a person standing right behind him who none of you noticed until now and suddenly your previous boredom hoped on a flight with Spirit Airlines because it just got drop kicked.

Dark jeans. Oversized hoodie. Glasses. Kind of slouched posture. Eyes shifting around nervously.

Target acquired.

[chin-chilla-7]

I just got finished with a spy x family episode and this came up! What about DBH boys (Connor, Simon, Markus) With a female reader who is just like Yor Forger!

She’s very sweet looking, and nobody would suspect she packs quite a mean punch when protecting someone or herself, and unusually strong!

Hey anon! So sorry about the wait on this. I'll be honest part of it is due to me not knowing anything about spy x family, so I will just be going off the little description you've given in this ask! And it certainly won't stop me from trying.

Each Connor, Simon, and Markus would initially find the reader quite unassuming. To say they underestimate her is not exactly accurate, but they certainly don't expect the strength and punch she packs.

Connor witnessed it during a case. He's in the process of analyzing some evidence at a crime scene when he hears a disturbance. It was an argument, from what he could tell, between you and someone else trying to tamper with the crime scene or simply initiating some aggression because, like Connor, they misjudge exactly how strong you could be. At the sound of raised voices - yours being one of them - Connor is quick to make his way over to the disturbance, intending to intervene if necessary. Though, it quickly becomes apparent that it isn't necessary.

You've knocked the aggressor clean on their ass. One punch to the face was enough to send them falling backwards right on their ass. You probably even broke their nose. Connor, he's... well, to be honest, he's a little surprised. You aren't often in situations such as this one. And while you do work for the DPD, it's not often he sees you demonstrate exactly why you were hired in the first place.

Even though you punched someone to the point of a concussion, Connor can't help but still make sure you're okay. Physically, mentally, whatever, he wants to make sure the encounter didn't shake you up too bad. Even if you've assured you're fine and that he doesn't need to check you over, he's still doing a scan, just to be sure.

This is something he certainly does not forget about you. And while he still worries, given the fact that your appearance is deceiving compared to your actual ability, he's a little more at ease to know that you can hold your own when you need to. He's aware that people will go for those who seem weaker, and while he knows you aren't weak, at a glance, people are quick to think otherwise about you.

---

Simon, while not a coward, does prefer to take the pacifist route at any given opportunity. You're someone who's the same, unless you have absolutely no choice. And that was the case here. You were with Simon, just the two of you. You had excused yourself to the bathroom, and on your way back, you see that someone had approached Simon, and you noticed that Simon was less than comfortable about the interaction. It wasn't until you were a few steps away that you could hear exactly what was going on.

It was some anti-android guy going off - he must have recognized Simon someone. Which, come on, he's not the only PL600 to exist. Whatever, it didn't matter. What mattered was this guy was going off on Simon, and while Simon was trying to defuse the situation, he wasn't getting anywhere successful. Simon was trying to talk the other down, but the guy seemed pissed, which started to piss you off. It didn't help that the guy suddenly grabbed Simon - that's when you knew you had to step in.

"Hey!" Was all you said, which seemed to startle the guy long enough for you to grab his shoulder, turning him so you could swiftly punch him in the gut. He quickly doubled over, falingl to the ground, and Simon stumbled back, staring at the scene in shock. His mouth was agape as he looked between you and the guy, now groaning on the ground. There was even a slight tint of blue on Simon's face at the sight, which you may have noticed if you weren't still upset with the interaction.

"Whoa... I didn't know you had that in you..." Simon said, nearly stepping towards the guy to help him. But he stopped himself, mainly because you held your hand out to stop him.

"There's a lot you don't know about me," you responded, looking over to him and managing a smile. Despite the circumstances, it was cute to see the way Simon reacted to this.

"What, so we just... leave him?"

"Well, he was a prick, soo..."

---

Markus was often used to being the protector. And with you, it was a no brainer that you were someone he felt drawn to protect. And it was cute, and you never had a problem with it. But sometimes even the protector needs a little helping hand. Especially when you've got no problem fighting your own battles.

Being the leader of the android revolution meant that Markus got a lot of attention. And being a close friend of the leader of the android revolution meant you got a lot of attention as well. Both good and bad. This was an instance of the bad. Some name calling, some yelling, asking how you could ever support something like this when all the androids do is take and take and blah blah blah.

Really, you weren't listening. You had grown used to it at this point, it was something you could easily tune out.

Though, it was clear that the people nagging you were not a fan of being ignored. Markus was only a little ways ahead of you, but it was still enough of a distance that he couldn't stop the way they grabbed you to look at them. A small struggle ensued, which caught Markus' attention. He was quick to rush over to you, pulling off one of the two attacking you, but it seemed you had the rest of it under control.

A quick knee between the legs was enough to throw them off their balance, then an elbow to the chest knocked the wind out of them long enough for you to get away. As you escaped their grasp, you kept yourself ready, knees bent, arms up, ready for anything more they had to throw your way. Of course, the kerfuffle was enough to get the attention from onlookers, and the attackers found it best to avoid further humiliation.

With them submitting to defeat, Markus looked to you, first making sure you were okay. Once that was settled, he found himself looking at you with an impressed smile. "Maybe you should be the one protecting me," he joked.

"Maybe," You said, relaxing now that you weren't in danger anymore. "At least I'd know you'd be safer."

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Hey, can i request BEN drowned x reader fluff (he just needs some love)

Fluff train coming right up~ I missed writing fluff for BEN, so thank you, and I hope you enjoy :)

I've said before that BEN is horrible at cooking. Despite thinking cooking and baking are very cool and interesting, he tends to get pretty bad results, although he's been working on it. However, the things he seems to never mess up are mug cakes. If he ever wants to make something for you, to treat you or spoil you, or just have a little something sweet with you, he's pulling out his favorite mugs and making the two of you some mug cakes. He knows how to do a couple of different flavors, and while it might not seem like much to some people, it's obvious to you that it comes from a place of pure, genuine love, and it never fails to put a smile on your face when he whips out a mug cake for you. It's even more fun for him if both of you make them together or for each other, especially if you try and surprise the other by keeping the other person's flavor a secret.

Has started collecting matching comfort clothing for the two of you. Pajamas, onesies, blanket hoodies, snuggies, he doesn't care what it is, if it's comfortable and he can get one for each of you, he's doing it. Whenever the two of you have had a long day, or you're gonna have a movie, show, or gaming marathon, BEN pulls them out and prepares to get super comfortable with you and just cuddle up together. BEN is naturally cold (considering he's technically a corpse in his physical form), so he likes to have something comfortable and warm on that gets even warmer when he curls up beside you. He'll get your favorite snacks and drinks, throw on whichever of them you wanna wear that night, and prepare to just zone out and cuddle until the two of you go to bed. Speaking of, I think he'd love to just curl up with you and watch a show together. It doesn't really matter what show it is, but picking a show just for the two of you to watch together would make him really happy and be a great way to unwind together at the end of the day by watching a couple of episodes together.

I think lately he's really into having co-op worlds with you in games. I think the two biggest ones for him right now would be Minecraft and Stardew Valley, and he loves to just sit down, throw on one of the two, and game with you for a few hours. When it comes to Minecraft, I think he'd have two worlds for you guys, one being a creative world and one being a survival world. The creative world is for you guys to just goof around and make silly things together, or surprise each other with a nice build for the other person. When it comes to survival, he likes seeing how well the two of you can make a world together, building a home, and mining and exploring to your heart's content. With Stardew Valley, he just absolutely loves making a farm with you. He always consults you about how money should be spent, where things should go, and which farm you guys should pick. It's just so domestic and peaceful, and if there's something you prefer not to do, whether foraging, farming, or handling the mines, he's more than happy to handle it for you. Plus, it's always fun to bully Mayor Lewis and Clint together with you and work on filling out the museum and the community center together, because fuck Joja. Also, be warned, if there's a certain bachelor or bachelorette you want to marry, he might be stinky and try and compete with you to see who can marry them first (unless that would make you sad, in which case he encourages you to seek out the NPC of your dreams in peace), but it would make him super happy if you chose to marry him instead (or you could both pick Krobus and just be best friends with him together, which would also be fucking awesome in BEN's opinion). Either way, BEN has the most fun he's ever had with games, especially those two games when he gets to play them with you.

[hheaven-sentt]

heaven is not fit

summary: what does it take to be loved? | bodyguard!leon x f!reader

word count: ~8.5k

warnings: mentions of violence, leon is kinda mean for like two seconds, strong language, mild trauma bonding (i guess??), not beta'd, incredibly mild angst (like fr you have to squint)

notes: this is sort of old and has already been posted to ao3 if you'd rather have a look there

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

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter,” you hiss. Your father’s face scrunches up.

“Language,” he mends, holding a hand up. “It’s just a precaution. He’ll be responsible for public spaces, taking you places, the like,”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “Dad, I’m an adult. I’m pretty sure I can take care of myself. The last thing I need is some stranger on my detail,”

Your father runs a hand over his worn features. He’s tired, you can tell. “I’m not making the same mistake twice,”

Ashley. She lives with her friends now, rather than alone, so there’s no real need to supervise her. Your heart twists with a twinge of guilt, but you hold your ground. “I’m not happy about this,”

“I didn’t expect you to be,” he says. “But, you’ll play by the rules, at least for me. For my sake, dove,”

You frown. “Fine,”

You meet him in a random conference room. He’s tall, with sharp features and blue eyes. He doesn’t seem friendly, which makes your mouth sour. He doesn’t speak through the introduction, just sort of stares straight ahead, like he’d rather be anywhere else. You don’t blame him. It’s not exactly a promotion he’s getting. You barely catch his name when he says it.

Leon.

It suits him, you think. You want to ask what his middle name is, if it’s as fitting as his first, but you don’t. Instead, you toe the carpet, listening to your father drone on about rules.

“Dovie, I’m serious,” he says, forcing you to look at him. “You don’t go anywhere alone, got it?”

“Got it,”

Despite your sickly sweet voice and feigned sincerity, you have no intention of keeping that promise. The ride to your apartment is silent. You notice that Leon drives with one hand, the other perched on the gear shift. When he stops outside your building, you hesitate for a moment before reaching for the handle, just in case he has something to say. As you shoulder the door, he grabs your elbow.

“Call if there’s an emergency,” he says. His voice is low timbred and honey sweetened, coating your nerves in warmth. You can only nod in response. He releases your arm, the tension from the area slipping away.

You hurry into your building, and you notice he waits until you’re through the door to drive off. It comforts you in a way. You make your way into your apartment. There’s a distinct heat on your neck when you enter, one that you hope disappears with a long shower. When it doesn’t, you find yourself staring at the phone. What would happen if you did call him? There wasn’t an emergency, unless you count this sudden bout of loneliness as an emergency. Would he show up? How is it any different than calling the police?

Six hours have passed since being demoted to babysat. You’ve been shuffled between rooms to meet with people, answer questions you don’t understand, and fight with your father. You find that being surrounded by people all day has made you exhausted. You take a breath, but jump when your phone vibrates.

“Hey, Ashley,” you say, sighing.

“Did you meet him?” she asks. You almost laugh.

“Yeah,” you say. “He doesn’t talk much,”

“No, he doesn’t,” she says. You can hear her friends laughing somewhere in the background. “You gotta get him to open up before he starts talking,”

“I can’t imagine that’ll be easy to do,” you huff. Ashley laughs. “He seems kinda stuck in his ways,”

“He is,” she agrees. “He’s…been through a lot. But, he’s a good guy. I think you’ll like him,”

You glance out the window at the rain. You wonder if it ever rained like this in Spain. “Well, if you trust him, so do I,”

…

You don’t see Leon for a week. You almost think he’s quit, but you know he doesn’t exactly have a choice in the matter. You consider calling him, just to see if he’d really show up, but you decide not to test it.

Instead, you go about your life normally. You go to work, you see friends, you buy groceries. You pretend you don’t have a babysitter.

On Monday, when you return home from work, you spot Leon’s car outside your building. Rolling your eyes, you prepare for the worst, and work your way into the building. Sure enough, he’s sitting on your couch when you enter your apartment.

“Make yourself at home,” you say, closing the door behind you. He doesn’t look at you.

“You haven’t called,” he says. You roll your eyes again.

“You said to call if there was an emergency,” you explain, cocking a brow. “There hasn’t been one,”

“You shouldn’t walk to work alone,” he continues. He turns his head finally, staring at you with the same stoic expression you first saw on him. You blink at him.

“How do you know I walk alone?” you ask. “Have you been following me?”

He nods. “It’s my job,”

You sigh, turning away. “Definitely not creepy,”

“Have you noticed anything weird?” he asks, standing to follow you into your kitchen.

“Other than you? No, I haven’t,” you say. He doesn’t laugh, not that you expected him to. “Seriously, I haven’t noticed anything amiss,”

He nods. “Good,”

He turns to leave, and you raise your eyebrows, surprised at the quickness of the interaction. “That’s it?”

“Yeah,” he says, grabbing his keys from the counter. “That’s it,”

“You don’t want to, like, scope out the area?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest. “Make sure no weirdos are lurking behind my curtains?”

“Do you think there are?” he asks, looking at you. There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“I mean, no,” you say.

“Then I won’t waste your time,” he says. “You’re an adult. I trust that you can take care of yourself,”

With that, he leaves. You’re taken aback at his cut and dry attitude. You would’ve thought he would be more hands on, given what you know about his time with Ashley. You choose to ignore it; you should be grateful he’s not up your ass. He said it himself, you’re an adult. You can take care of yourself. It’s not his fault–or yours–that no one else seemed to agree. He has plenty of other things he can spend his time doing besides watching your every move.

Which is why, the following morning, you’re surprised to see Leon waiting outside beside his car. You look around before crossing the street to him. Without a word, he opens the passenger door.

“I take it I’m not allowed to walk alone anymore?” you say, ignoring his gesture. He stares at you.

“Rules are rules,” he says. You roll your eyes, filing into the vehicle.

He joins you a moment later. You ignore the heat on your neck when he brushes his hand against your knee to reach for something in the glovebox.

“I’ve been walking this way for years,” you protest. “I don’t need a ride,”

“You don’t have a choice,” he says, cutting a glance at you. He almost makes a wrong turn before you correct him. “I make the rules, you follow them,”

“And rule number one is: don’t walk to work by myself?” you ask, annoyance lacing your tone.

“Well, rule number one is actually to call me if something’s wrong,” he corrects. “But, this is rule number two,”

The rest of the ride is silent. Leon doesn’t so much as glance at you, which almost upsets you. He pulls up to the curb outside of your workplace, and throws the car into park.

“What time do you get off?” he asks, finally looking at you. There’s a gentle tone to his voice, one that throws you off guard.

“Four,” you say. “I’ll be off at four,”

“I’ll be outside,” he says. At this, you exit the car, rounding it before entering the building. He waits for you to get inside before driving off. You wonder what he’ll be doing for the next eight hours. If his job is to follow you around, that means he doesn’t have another job to get to, so what does he do? You wonder what he does when he’s at home.

“Since when did you have a chauffeur?” Marnie asks, jabbing your shoulder.

“Since now,” you say, still looking out the window.

Four o’clock rolls around sooner than you expect. You find yourself a little excited to sit in the car; it’s a nice change of pace. As expected, Leon’s waiting outside the building when you walk out. Again, he’s leaning against the car, waiting for you. When he sees you, you think he’s going to smile. Your shoulders deflate when he doesn’t. Instead, he jerks his head in a gesture to hurry up. You cross the street, and he rounds the car to the passenger side.

“I can open the door myself,” you say. He looks at you.

“I do it for show,” he bites. You swallow, stunned by the harshness of his tone. You allow him to open the door for you.

The ride is silent. Again, he doesn’t look at you. You can feel the tension about him, the way his shoulders are square and strong. His knuckles are almost white from the way he’s holding the steering wheel. You ignore the guilt that brews in your stomach.

“Call me if there’s an emergency,” he says. You nod, hurrying out of the car to avoid any further conversation. Again, he waits until you’re in the building to leave. You wonder if that’s a gentlemanly habit or a job habit.

…

It’s Friday night, and you’re going out with friends. You stare in the mirror, like you have for the last half hour, analyzing the intricacies of your outfit. You can’t decide if you like it or not. You tug at the shirt again, wondering if you should change. There’s a knock at the door. You huff, deciding that the outfit will have to do.

You’re not sure who you expect to be at the door, but it’s not Leon. He looks collected, jacket slung over his shoulders, hair framing his face. He looks normal, not like a man constantly working. He blinks at you.

“Where’re you going?” he asks. You sigh.

“Hello to you, too, Leon,” you say. “I’m going out with a few friends,”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t have to ask permission for things,”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. You can practically feel the anger radiating off of him. “You kind of do, actually. So I can be where I need to be,”

“Well, I don’t need you to be anywhere,” you bite. He frowns. “I can take care of myself,”

At this, you go to shut the door, but he stops it with his foot. He pushes his way into the apartment, closing the door behind him.

“Look,” he says, voice low and gentle. “I get it. But I have a job to do, and I’m not going to let your stubborn independence get in the way, alright?”

You stare at him. “Stop being such an asshole, and I’ll think about it,”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s a hint of playfulness to it. “Sure, deal,”

Leon doesn’t follow you into the bar, and if he actually does, he makes it so that you can’t see him. You spend the evening laughing and enjoying yourself, which is relieving. You needed a break from everything. Your friends ask about the fact that you got a ride here, rather than walking.

“My feet have been killing me lately,” you lie. “And have you seen these shoes? I’d probably die ten feet from my building,”

When you’re sufficiently drunk, you call Leon. It’s the first time that you’ve actually called him, rather than just expecting him to show up. He’s kind enough to act like he’s not in the vicinity, and you pretend that he’s not. Instead, you lie to yourself and say that he drives very fast. He’s standing outside the bar, waiting for you again.

“My hero,” you say, voice flighty and gentle. “I shouldn’t have worn these shoes,”

He doesn’t answer, just helps you into the car. You ramble about your night on the drive home, not giving him the room to answer because you know he won’t. 

“Did you learn to drive on a manual?” you mumble, whirring your head away from the window to look at him. He glances at you.

“What?”

“A manual,” you say again. “Manual transmission. You drive with your hand on the shift, like you’ll need to use it at any given moment. In an automatic, you don’t need to do that, but in a manual you do. So, if you learned to drive on a manual, you would’ve picked up that habit,”

He doesn’t respond for a long while. His eyes are focused on the road ahead of him. Finally, he says, “Yeah, I did,”

You feel satisfied with yourself, surprised that you were able to figure that out. “You have a lot of habits like that,”

“Name some,” he says, cutting a glance at you.

You take in a breath. “You wait outside before leaving so you can make sure I get into my building safely. You bite the inside of your cheek when you’re thinking about something. You square your shoulders in public, like you’re prepared to shoot,”

“You’re observant,” he says. You grin.

“Gotta know who I’m spending time with,” you reply, grinning wildly and returning your focus to the window. 

You almost ask him to keep driving when your apartment building comes into view. There’s an air of understanding and comfort in the car, and you’re worried you’ll never see it again once you leave. You hope he doesn’t notice your disappointment when he pulls over.

“Do you need help getting in?” he asks. The gentle tone is back, and you pretend, for a moment, that he genuinely cares. You shake your head.

He watches you almost fall out of the car, stumbling on your tall heels and drunken legs. You right yourself, flashing him a smile. He returns it, then follows you out of the car.

“I can make it,” you say, balancing against his car. When you almost fall again, he’s there to catch you. His hands fall against your waist with ease, like they’re meant to be there. You feel heat flush your cheeks, and you almost move away. He steadies you, giving you a look to make sure you’re alright.

“We’ll see about that,” he says, still smiling faintly.

“I’ve never seen you smile before,” you say. “You should do it more, it’s nice,”

Leon looks beautiful in pink, cheeks reddened and round. When he releases you, you consider falling again just so he’ll return. Instead, you gesture for him to follow you into the building, which he does. Although the stairs are a tough bet, you manage to stumble up them. You swear you hear Leon huff a laugh behind you when you stagger.

At your door, you pat your pockets in order to find your key. Sensing your loss, Leon holds out the key he has. You accept it gratefully, turning the knob to make sure it’s actually locked.

Your heart sinks to find it unlocked.

“Did you forget to lock it?” he asks, voice hushed. You turn to him, fear evident on your face, and shake your head. He steps between you and the door, and holds a hand out to tell you to stay put. You find yourself willing to listen.

He enters the apartment slowly, quietly. You pretend there isn’t a gun in his hand. He rounds the corner into the kitchen, and you catch his frame again when he crosses the room to the bedroom. He returns in a few minutes.

“It’s clear,” he says. He pushes the door open more to allow you to enter. You feel uneasy, suddenly sober.

“I never forget to lock my door,” you promise. “Ever. Is…is the window open or something?”

He shakes his head. “You must’ve forgotten this time,”

“No, no I don’t do that,” you say. You wander to the window, finding it closed. Your head hurts. You feel on edge, like there’s someone watching you.

With a sigh, you sit on the couch.

“There’s no one here,” Leon promises, sitting beside you. You look at him. “Trust me, I checked,”

“But what if someone was here?” you say, looking at him. “I don’t…I don’t want them to come back,”

He reaches out for a moment, then decides to return his hand to his side. “No one’s coming back. I’ll make sure of it, okay?”

You can feel your hands shaking. “Will you stay?”

He softens when he looks at you. He can see the fear in your eyes. You think of your sister, stolen from somewhere she felt safe. You feel safe in your home, as anyone might. You don’t want to face the same fate. You know Leon knows that.

“Yeah,” he says. “Go change, I’ll be out here,”

You nod, rising to your feet. You wander past the window again, double checking that it’s closed. You find your clothes in the dark, not caring too much about what you put on. A shower sounds nice. You’re afraid to be alone for that long, though. Instead, you wash your face in the sink, then throw on your clothes, a loose t-shirt from a far off ex-boyfriend and sweatpants. You feel vaguely comforted by the thought of Leon sitting right outside the door.

“I’m going to try to sleep,” you call from the door. You want nothing more than to curl up in your bed.

“I’ll be right here,” Leon returns. “I’ll keep watch,”

You shuffle into bed easily. You feel safer knowing he’s outside, waiting for any potential threats. You feel especially safe knowing his reputation precedes him. There’s no doubt in your mind that he would protect you. It makes it easier to sleep.

You wake sometime later to a creak beside your bed. Your eyes shoot open to find a figure looming over you. You move to scream, but your eye catches the glint of moonlight against the barrel of a gun. You swallow whatever scream you had left, and rise to your feet. You’re moving without much thought, just doing whatever instinct tells you to. The figure says nothing, just motions to the window. You run through your options. If you shout, you’ll be dead before Leon even makes it into the room. You can’t fight him off, you’re definitely not strong enough. If you leave with him, you’ll be dead before Leon notices you’re gone. 

You turn to face your attacker, who seems to grow frustrated with you. He, again, gestures to the open window. You take a breath.

Follow your gut.

In a fluid motion that surprises you, your fingers wrap around the barrel of the gun, shoving it towards the ceiling. You feel lucky; just as it’s pointed away from you, it’s fired. You knee the attacker in the stomach, and you’re out the door before he rises from the ground. 

“What’s going on?” Leon shouts, assessing you for injuries quickly before entering the room.

You’re crying now, fat tears rolling down your cheeks before you can stop them. Your hand screams with pain, seared flesh crying out angry and red. You feel stupid, weak, small. You collapse onto the couch while Leon takes care of things.

The next two hours are a blur of police and your father. You answer questions vacantly, absent from the situation. Leon sits beside you, dressing the wound on your hand. 

“Dovie,” your father says, holding your face in his hands. You begin to cry again. He pulls you into a hug, holding you as close as he can. You grip the back of his shirt, and sob into his shoulder.

“I’m okay,” you say. It’s true. You’re alive, breathing, hugging him. “I’m okay,”

When the crowd shuffles out, they take you and Leon with them. You vaguely hear them discussing where you’re supposed to stay, Lord knows you can’t stay here. You feel sick.

“She can stay with me,” Leon volunteers. You somehow feel worse. “Makes sense,”

You follow him to the car. You stare out the window. The sun is coming up on the horizon, a new day. You can’t help but think about how just 24 hours ago, you were in this passenger seat, on your way to work. Now, though, you’re swollen and hurting and scared. Your hand feels like it might just burn away.

“I didn’t know what to do,” you say by way of explanation. Leon doesn’t respond, so you continue. “I just grabbed it. I didn’t know it would burn me,”

“You’re lucky nothing is broken,” he says calmly. “Your fingers’ll be stiff for the next few days,”

You look down at them. They’re swollen for sure, round and angry red around the knuckles. There’s a strip of gauze against the burn on your palm now, courtesy of Leon’s deft and gentle hands. You graze it with your opposite hand. It aches beneath the dressing, a painful reminder of your night.

“I’m just up here,” Leon says quietly. You nod absently.

He lives in an apartment, same as you. He resides on the third floor, which is much nicer a walk than your seventh story apartment. His apartment is small, quaint, but you aren’t surprised by the lack of decoration. Blank white walls wrap the room. There’s a few pieces of furniture, but only the necessities like a couch, a few tables, a dining area, and a coat rack. He doesn’t even have a TV, which surprises you. He ushers you into the space, gently pushing against your back to get you to move.

“Go lie down,” he says. You turn to look at him. His gaze is softer now, full of sympathy. “You deserve peaceful, uninterrupted sleep,”

You don’t move. “You saved me,” you say. “I don’t know what would’ve happened if you weren’t there,”

“You handled yourself pretty well,” he says, a faint smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. You can feel tears resting in your eyes, begging to spill over. “I was there, and now you’re here. Nothing else to it. You’re safe with me,”

“I know,” you whisper. “I know,”

Without thinking, you wrap your arms around him. His embrace is comforting. His arms encircle your waist, holding you in an almost practiced way. He’s strong, holds you up where you can’t stand on your own. You can feel yourself beginning to cry again, relief washing over you as you recognize that you’re truly safe. You’re mostly uninjured, save for the burn on your hand, and you’re alive. You sob gently into Leon’s shoulder, and he holds you. He lets you cry. You half expect him to mock you, or to reject your plea for comfort, but he doesn’t. He holds you, gently and carefully, cradling you as you fall apart. And you know, in that moment, that he won’t hold it against you later.

…

You spend the next week off work, curled away in the safety of Leon’s apartment. He goes out, although rarely, for groceries and other things to entertain you. He even buys a TV. He claims that he’s been meaning to get one, but you know that he did that so you didn’t die of boredom. Initially, you were concerned about the sleeping arrangements. However, Leon is generous and lets you sleep in his bed while he shacks up on the couch.

“When can I go home?” you ask over Chinese takeout and an episode of Wheel of Fortune. Leon smiles at you.

“Getting tired of me already?” he teases.

Spending actual time with Leon has made you realize that he’s funny and playful. He’s not always stoic and unforgiving. He teases, he jokes, he smiles. You didn’t think the latter was possible. You just assumed that he was always unhappy.

“No,” you say honestly. “I just don’t want you to sleep on the couch anymore,”

He waves a hand at you. “It’s pretty comfortable,” he says, reaching down to pat the cushions. “I’ve slept in worse places,”

“This is your home, though,” you say. He wordlessly passes you an eggroll. “You should sleep in your own bed in your own home,”

He shrugs, which makes you frown. “As long as you’re safe and comfortable, I’ll sleep on the floor if I have to,”

“Damn it, Leon,” you laugh. He grins wider. “For the love of God, sleep in your own bed tonight,”

He rolls his eyes. “Fine, but you don’t get to sleep on the couch either, just so you know,”

Heat creeps up your neck, blushing against your cheeks and nose. You’re still smiling, but it’s more flustered now, shy and sweet.

Leon notices, and begins to flush himself. “That’s…that’s not what I meant,”

“I mean,” you begin, turning your eyes back to your food. “We can both sleep comfortably and not worry. I trust you,”

He lets out a barely audible breath. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, we can,”

That night, as you’re getting ready for bed, you notice Leon shifting nervously. You try to ignore it, pretend like nothing’s wrong. It’s easier to pretend. He keeps a decent distance between you on the bed; another person could easily fit between you. You’re suddenly self conscious, aware of each and every movement, how much blanket you take up, where your feet are laying. 

“You never answered my question,” you say when he flips the lamp off. The room is flooded in darkness. You feel a little more confident now that you can’t see his face.

“What question?”

“About when I can go home,” you answer. He shifts beside you, almost like he’s about to get up.

“Not for a little while,” he says. You sigh. “It’s not safe for you at the apartment. Your dad doesn’t even want you going to work, but I worked something out so that you can. You can…you can stay here as long as you want,”

“Okay,” is all you say. You feel a little far away, removed from the world. In just under a month, you’ve lost all sense of independence, something you valued greatly, and have been reduced to someone that needs to be looked after like a child. You hate it.

“We can find a temporary apartment, too, if you think that’d be better,” Leon amends. “I just thought…you might be more comfortable here,”

You smile at that. You can hear the insecurity in his voice, something you find sweet. “I’d like to stay here,”

“Okay,” he says. You can almost hear the smile. It makes your heart flutter.

You turn onto your side, facing him. He’s still lying on his back, watching the ceiling as if it’s going to collapse. He glances at you. “If we’re going to be living together, we should get to know each other,”

He laughs. It’s a real laugh, not just a huff of air through the nose. “And what do you want to know?”

You think for a moment, tongue poking between your lips. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Don’t have one,” he replies easily. You snort.

“Everyone has a favorite color,” you say. He looks at you with a smile resting on his cheeks. It’s not compulsory; it’s genuine. 

“What’s yours then?” he asks, voice low and gentle. You feel like you might melt away under his gaze.

“Blue,” you say. You almost tell him that his eyes have become your favorite shade of it, but you refrain. “Like the ocean,”

His smile widens. “Then that’s mine, too,” he says. You roll your eyes.

“No way,” you tease. “What is Leon Kennedy’s favorite color? And give me a real answer,”

He laughs. “Green,”

“Like, Kermit the Frog green or forest green?” you ask. He shrugs.

“Just…green,”

“So if I were to paint the apartment bright green you wouldn’t have a problem with it?” you ask. His expression sours. “So you don’t like every green, then,”

“I like dark greens,” he says finally, still smiling. “Like pine trees,”

“I never thought I would get an honest answer out of you,” you joke, but there’s truth to it. You don’t imagine him as someone who likes to share.

“To be fair,” he says. “It wasn’t like I was withholding information, I’ve just never thought about my favorite color,”

“Well, now you have,” you say. He grins at you, and you feel like the entire city lights up a little more.

He’s quiet for a moment. The moonlight casts over his face in a way that somehow makes him prettier. “If you could only bring one thing to a deserted island, what would it be?”

“God, your questions are so lame,” you tease. He rolls his eyes.

“Just answer it,” he says.

“I’d bring you,” you say honestly. “Knowing you, we wouldn’t get stuck there, and I’d be home in a few days,”

“I wouldn’t get stuck in the first place,” he says. You shake your head. “Honestly, I’d probably bring something to listen to music on,”

“Then you better hope it doesn’t die,” you say. “Good to know the sentiment is equally held, by the way,”

“Would you be able to get us off the island?” he asks, poking your shoulder. You shake your head. “Exactly,”

“I’d keep you company while you got us off the island,” you say. He laughs. Your heart seizes for a moment at the sound.

“What would I do without your terrible jokes?”

“My jokes aren’t terrible!”

“Totally terrible,” he promises, turning over to his other side, facing away from you. “Some of the worst I’ve ever heard,”

You laugh. “Yeah, well, yours are pretty bad, too, y’know?”

“You wound me,”

You fall asleep easily beside Leon. The safety his presence brings is immeasurable, and you’re coaxed into sleep without a second thought. When you wake, your head is on his shoulder, arms wrapped around one of his own. You cling to him like he’s keeping you alive. His breathing is slow, giving away the fact that he’s still sleeping, so you steal a glance at him. His other arm is slung over his face to block out the sunlight peering through the window. Feeling strange, you roll onto your other side. Almost as if he senses you moving, he follows you, caging you into his arms. You feel like your heart stops when he pulls you in, sighing into your hair. His breath wafts down your neck, pulling up goosebumps in its wake. Your heart hammers against your chest.

…

It becomes routine. Until your father deems it safe to return to your own apartment, you shack up with Leon, spending your nights watching television and lying beside him. If he ever notices that you cling to each other, he doesn’t mention it, which you silently thank him for. He goes about life as normal, as if he hasn’t changed the way you look at him.

There’s menial touches exchanged. The grab of a hand during a movie, a palm to your lower back as he passes, the brush of hands when you pass him something. And although you welcome these bits of contact, they often leave you a blushing mess that struggles to even get words out.

He drives you to work still, which you’re becoming accustomed to. He’s there when you finish up. He’s the person you split groceries with–which he only let you start doing after you argued with him for days about it. He’s slowly consumed every part of your life. It’s nice, you think. He looks so domesticated in these instances, like he’s your friend rather than someone to look after you. You like it. You like that he sometimes steals your shampoo when he runs out. You like that he learned what foods you like. You like that he made you a key.

You like him. And that is a scary thought.

It makes you freeze up around him, stumbling between words until you find something to say. It makes you stare at him in awe because you can’t believe you get to be around him all the time. It makes you blush any time he meets your eyes. You feel childish because it makes you that way.

“Gonna tell me what’s up with you, or do I have to interrogate you?” he asks one night over pizza. You’ve been sitting with the plate in your lap for ten minutes.

“Nothing’s up,” you say, lying through your teeth. You’re a bad liar, and he knows it. When you look at him, he’s watching you, analyzing your body language. You know you’re on edge, but you can’t help it. It feels like a sin to want him.

He looks pretty like this, you think. He looks comfortable, wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, no weapons stuck to him. Your hand twitches with the desire to reach out to him.

“So you’ve been acting weird the last few days for fun?” he asks. You nod. “You’re such a shitty liar, sweet girl,”

His voice is gentle; it warms you up. “Really, Leon, I’m alright,”

He holds his hands up in defense. “Okay, I won’t pry. But, I’m here to listen,”

You force yourself to eat, to be normal. You can’t even look at him because you’re afraid of what you might say if you do. He wouldn’t mock you for it, and that’s somehow worse. You almost want him to belittle you, to call you stupid, because that would make pushing him away much easier. If he doesn’t, then who are you to cut him off?

“I can practically hear the gears turning, doll,” Leon calls from the kitchen. You sigh. “If you’re not going to share, don’t be so loud about it, huh?”

You know it’s meant to be a joke, but it makes your mouth sour. He can’t help the curiosity, you know that, but you wish he would back off. It would make your life so much easier if he pretended that you didn’t exist.

“I don’t have to tell you everything about me,” you say. It comes out harsh even though it wasn’t supposed to. “I’m entitled to my own thoughts. Or is that another thing you’re paid to infiltrate?”

He stands in the doorway of the kitchen, staring at you. “I don’t think I’m infiltrating anything,” he says. His voice is even, but you can hear the hurt in the words.

“Then keep it that way,” you say. He inhales deeply, beginning to gnaw on his cheek. You feel guilt wrapping around your throat. You turn your gaze back to the television, feigning interest in the commercial that clogs the speakers. He disappears back into the kitchen.

You’re almost thankful when your phone rings. You don’t get many calls, so when you see it’s your father, you’re less than surprised.

“Hey, Dad,” you say breathily.

“Hey, Dovie,” he returns. “Getting all packed?”

You pause, glancing toward the archway into the kitchen. “Packed?”

“He didn’t tell you, did he?”

“Tell me what?” you ask, sitting up on the couch. You can hear Leon shuffle in the other room. “What do I need to be told?”

“We’re moving you,” your father says, plain as day. “We’ll be finding someone else to watch over you, too,”

“Huh,” is all you say. There’s less guilt around your shoulders now, replaced by anger and humiliation. “Well, if that’s how it goes,”

“I’ll get back to you later, okay, Dovie?” he says. “Get to packing, I’ll tell you more when I can,”

You bid your father goodbye, staring back at the phone screen long after it goes black. You feel your shoulders deflate, allowing the melancholy to consume you a little bit further. You stand, return to Leon’s room, and pull open the dresser drawers where your clothes have resided for the last few weeks. Slowly, almost on autopilot, you begin pulling them out one by one. A shirt, pants, sweatpants, a lone sock; they fall onto the floor with an unceremonious thud. You go until the drawer is empty, the contents piled up on the floor beside your feet.

“I was going to tell you,” comes from the bedroom door. You take a breath. “I didn’t know how,”

“I assume it would’ve been pretty easy,” you say, turning to look him in the eye. He stiffens at the cruelty lacing your tone. “All you had to do was let me know you were done with me. Not like you were in all that deep anyway,”

He doesn’t say anything. You cross the room to the small closet that holds your suitcase. You begin to haphazardly stuff it with your clothes.

“I didn’t want to disappoint you, sweet girl,” Leon says softly, taking a step forward.

“Yeah, well, I’m pretty fucking disappointed right now,” you spit, glancing at him. “Would’ve liked to have known my life was getting upended days ago. Would’ve liked to have known that I was wasting my fucking time,”

“Wasting your time?” he asks, catching your wrist as you push down the top of the suitcase.

“I tried so hard to get to know you, Leon,” you say. He winces. “And to think, that for a fraction of a second, I thought you liked me? I feel stupid. You never cared. It’s not in your nature. You go in, do the job, and get out. When’s the last time you talked to Ashley, huh? Or is that something else you like to keep boxed away?”

He releases your wrist. You continue packing your things, and he leaves the room. He returns a moment later with your nearly empty bottle of shampoo.

“Don’t forget this when you leave,” he says coldly. You ignore the ache it leaves in your bones.

“Might as well keep it,” you say. “You’ve used most of it anyway,”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Isn’t that one hell of a metaphor?” you say before you can stop yourself. “I gave and gave, and you just took. I told you things I’ve never told anyone. And what do I know about you? Your favorite color is green. And even then, it was like pulling fucking teeth to get it out of you. Just keep it. I don’t want it anyway. Can’t put the shampoo back in the bottle, right?”

“I get that you’re angry,” he mumbles. “I understand,”

“No, you don’t,” you say, turning to him finally. He’s staring at you. There’s something in his eyes that you can’t place. “You have no idea what I’m feeling right now,”

“You’re right,” he says. You falter for a moment. “I never once said that I did. I just…understand. I can follow the logic between you and your emotion,”

You roll your eyes, choosing not to respond. Your suitcase finally zips closed, and you haul it off the bed, nearly knocking yourself down. He drives you back to your apartment. He doesn’t say anything the entire ride, not even when you finally get out of the car. You leave the key to his place on the center console.

…

His smell permeates everything around you. Even in your new apartment with new furniture, you can’t wash away his cologne. Everything smells of cedar and smoke with a hint of citrus. You washed your clothes three times when you moved in, a feeble attempt at ridding yourself of him. You bought new shampoo.

You feel ridiculous. Your heart aches, and for what? A man who never showed interest? You ignore the acrid taste in your mouth that seems to never go away. You ignore the yearning in your bones. You ignore the burning in your chest. It’s easier that way.

He tries calling. You ignore those, too. You pretend he’s a telemarketer, or a prank calling kid, or an old man with the wrong number. You pretend you don’t recognize the number, and that the messages he leaves on your machine are empty. You find that pretending makes the hurting stop for a while, even if it creeps back up when you’re staring at the ceiling at night because you can’t sleep alone anymore.

You cook breakfast more often now, finding that it takes up the empty time in the morning before you go to work. The new guy is nice. He talks about his wife a lot, which you find sweet. You like that there’s no unresolved tension when you get into his car. You just wish you could remember his name.

“Do you know him?” he asks, pointing across the parking lot. Leon leans against his car, watching you pull in. You sigh.

“Yeah,” you say. “He’s friendly,”

“Doesn’t look like it,”

“Well,” you say. “He’s not actually friendly. But he’s not a threat,”

He lets you leave. You can almost see the way Leon stretches back up when you approach. You set your jaw.

“You haven’t been answering my calls,” he says. You raise your brows at him.

“I don’t have to,” you say. “You lost that privilege.”

He shakes his head. “I’d still like to know if you’re okay,”

“I’m fine, Leon,” you say. He nods. “What are you doing here?”

“Just checking in,”

You feel like a fool the second you invite him upstairs. You can’t help it. You want to be around him. You feel safe around him, regardless of the anger. You know he’d protect you regardless.

You feel insecure about the state of your new apartment. You haven’t gotten around to breaking it in, so to speak, so the walls are bleak and empty, there’s a loveseat and nothing else, and a single lamp lights up the room. You wring your hands together.

“Missing a few things,” he says. “Where’s all your stuff?”

“Haven’t gotten around to putting it up,” you lie. It’s more like you haven’t wanted to put anything up. You don’t want this place to feel like a home because it isn’t. This is temporary—as long as you keep telling yourself that, it feels true.

“I’ll get you a rug,” he says, meeting your eyes. It almost feels like a peace offering.

“I don’t need a rug,” you say. You see his shoulders slump. “I prefer socks anyway,”

“Right, yeah,”

He’s silent for a while, just watches you as you set up for the night. He sits rigid against the cushions of your couch, hands clasped in his lap. You grab a frozen pizza from the freezer for dinner. His eyes don’t leave you. You don’t feel uncomfortable under his gaze, it’s almost comforting.

“I owe you an explanation,” he says finally. You almost laugh.

“I don’t need an explanation, Leon,” you say. “I get it. Your job makes you move around a lot. You were never intended to be permanent,”

“I resigned,” he says. At this, you turn to face him. He’s searching your features for a reaction, and you fight to keep them neutral, but you know he can see the discomposure. Heat creeps up your neck, threatens to swallow you whole.

“You resigned?” you repeat, far quieter in order to conceal the stutter in your breath.

He nods. “I did what I thought I was supposed to,”

“And that was leaving me?” you say. He averts his eyes. “How on Earth is that what you were supposed to do? You were being paid to be around me, and you thought you were supposed to leave?”

“That’s not what I meant,” he says, returning his gaze to you. “You have to know that that’s not what I meant,”

“Leon,” you say, leaning against the counter. “I don’t know a thing about you. I don’t know if what you’ve told me about is even fucking true!”

“My middle name is Scott,” he says. You blink at him. “My favorite color is green, that was true. I slept with a baby blanket until I was thirteen years old. I lost my parents when I was young. I used to be a cop,”

He unloads. For the first time since you met him, he lets you into his head a little bit. You take in a breath.

“I don’t…” he begins, then shuts his mouth again. He gnaws on his bottom lip for a moment. “I don’t know how to be…like this anymore. Vulnerable,”

You join him on the couch. He watches you carefully. “That’s okay,”

“It’s something I’m working on,” he says, smiling slightly. You can’t fight one of your own. “I think you make it easier,”

“I’ll be here to listen,” you say quietly. “You know you’re always welcome,”

He grins then. “Whether you want me here or not, right?”

You laugh. “I always want you here,”

There’s something left unsaid between you, but he’s looking at you and laughing at your jokes, and you feel like the world begins to spin again. You feel like the sun shines a little brighter outside, and the colors are clearer, and songs sound like music. 

…

You find out that his name is Ryan. He’s more like a personal chauffeur than his intended job, but you like him well enough. Leon spends most of his time on your couch. Things are normal again. He offers to cook dinner most nights, which you appreciate. He does end up buying you a rug–he claims it’s because his feet get too cold without it.

“If you do that one more time, I’m kicking you out,” you scold, swatting Leon’s hand away for the millionth time. He laughs loudly, widely, and it breathes a new air into your lungs.

“I swear to God, sweet girl,” he says between laughter. “There’s something on your face,”

“Then just get it!” you say, wiping your hand aggressively against your cheek. “It doesn’t take a thousand pokes to get something off my face,”

“Hey, I keep missing because you keep moving,” he says, shrugging his shoulders dramatically. You roll your eyes. “C’mere,” 

You lean in a bit more, and he swipes his hand against your cheek. For a moment too long, it remains, delicately holding you as if you might break under increased pressure. He clears his throat and retracts his hand. You feel heat creep up in its place.

“You staying tonight?” you ask. He shrugs. “You know the couch will miss you if you don’t,”

He laughs at this. Your heart swells at the sound. “You just like using me as your personal alarm clock,”

“Not true,” you gasp, clutching your heart in feigned offense. “My couch grows increasingly lonely at night,”

He rolls his eyes. “Sure,”

It occurs to you, in that moment, just how much you want him to kiss you. It would certainly make things a lot easier if he did. You’re almost desperate for him to kiss you. The feeling you have for him is akin to idolatry, an offshoot of worship. He’s magnetic, pulls you in in a way you can’t describe. You can see the entire world in his eyes. He is divinity in its most basic form. Whatever religion he’s created, you would gladly follow it until your last breath.

Want consumes you. An insurmountable degree of yearning swallows you, floods your senses, makes you unstable. 

“Why did you resign?” you ask. His expression falters for a moment. “You never explained it to me,”

He doesn’t answer, just swallows thickly. You take in a breath like it might be your last.

You wring your hands. “I’m owed at least that,”

“I thought it would make things easier,” he says. The answer is vague, like you’d expected. It doesn’t answer your questions.

“That’s not an answer, Leon,” you say, frowning. “Can you give me a straight answer, just this once? I don’t care if you lie to me for the rest of my life, but, please, just give me this,”

He stares at you, as if he’s trying to get one last look at you. “I wanted to start over,”

Your brows knit together as you watch him. He’s stiff against the arm of the couch he leans on. His shoulders are square, jaw set, eyes forward. It’s been a while since he’s gotten a haircut, you notice.

“Start over?” you repeat.

“With you,” he says, staring into the wall behind you. “I wanted you to know me…differently,”

Your heart hammers against your chest. You hope you’re reading this the right way, because if you’re not, you might just die where you sit. “How did you want me to know you?”

“As a person,” he says, meeting your eyes again. “I wanted you to…like me. Not just see me as a guy that follows you around,”

You smile. “I liked you anyway, Leon,” you say. He flushes.

“I mean,” he stutters. “I mean that…I wanted to be right,”

You don’t know when, but he’s leaned in. You can feel his breath on your lips, floating back against your ears. He’s looking at you through his lashes, all starry eyed and vulnerable. His cheeks are pink, rosy and soft. You want him to kiss you. You wonder, for a moment, what it would be like if he did. Goosebumps surface across your skin at the thought, shivering against the flesh like you’d stepped into the cold. You want him to kiss you.

With a shaking breath, you ask, “Right about what?”

He brushes a strand of hair away from your face with a trembling hand. It slots against the curve of your jaw, just below your ear. You notice that his hands are freezing, but it’s a welcome change in temperature given the heat that resides in your cheeks. You wonder if he can feel the beat of your pulse, hammer strong and rapid against the muscle. You wonder if his would feel the same.

“Leon?” you breathe. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. “Are you going to kiss me?”

His breath is shaky. “Do you want me to?”

“Please,”

He indulges. He’s soft against you, sugary sweet and easygoing. He breathes you in like he’ll never get the chance to again. Your hands wind into the collar of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer, an attempt to fuse into one. It’s a crescendo at the end of a symphony, harmonies and melodies colliding into one final note. Your ears are ringing. It’s a soft collision of warmth and intimacy, lips and hums that finally get to meet. 

A cold hand slips beneath your shirt, soft and delicate against the red hot skin of your waist. You shiver against it. Devotion makes you dizzy as you pull away, breathing like you’ve nearly drowned. You steel yourself against his shoulders. He looks pretty like this, you think, lips kiss swollen and pulling in a grin around his teeth, face reddened with flush and excitement, hair falling into his eyes.

“I resigned,” he says, panting. “So I could do that,”

You laugh. “You could’ve done that anyway,” you say. He grins.

“Felt wrong,” he says. “I wanted to do it right,”

[akwolfgrl]

LFT PART 40

Nami was walking through the town, a huge sack of clothes tossed over her shoulder, Usopp with his own sack walked beside her. Nami could feel a shift in the air around her, she was fascinated with the shift in weather patterns, which at first had been necessary for navigation and had become something of a hobby.

“Hey Usopp, we need to head back to the ship right now.”

“Huh? How come I thought you wanted to look around more? Maybe stop for lunch,” Usopp asked, confused.

“The air pressure is dropping rapidly at a rather abnormal rate, there is a Storm coming and fast, unless you and your bag of goodies want to get soaked,” Nami pointed out, changing direction towards the pier.

“All right you have a good point,” Usopp followed behind her. “Hey look, it's Sanji and Zoro, hey guys!” Usopp called out, waving in their direction. Nami stopped walking and they all gathered together. Zoro had the same shirt on from last night and two new swords, where he got the money is what Nami wanted to know. Sanji on the other hand was wearing a bright colored fish shirt that she had made him buy yesterday, he also had a few shopping bags on his arm and his other was linked with Zoro's. The date must have gone well.

“Nami-swan and Usopp, funny running into you two here,” Sanji called out to them.

“Anyone know where Luffy is?” Zoro asked not to bother with any greetings. Although he did have a point, they should find their captain.

“Is he still looking for the platform?” Usopp asked from beside her. “I believe it's right here in Town Square.”

“Shit, I think he found it,” Sanji pointed out. There was Luffy atop the executioner's platform, a large piece of wood with a hole on top with his head and hands secured, a man sitting atop of it with Buggy the annoying clown next to him. It felt like ages ago that she had stolen from him, and met Luffy and Zoro.

“Why is he on the platform about to be executed?!” Nami wasn't wasn't sure who said it or if it was everyone.

“Sanji give me your bags so you and Zoro can go save our captain, meet you back at the ship,” Nami offered, holding out her hand. “No argument, just give it here,” She told him as he opened his mouth to protest. He reluctantly handed over before following after Zoro who had already taken off. She turned around and began to head towards the docks where she was originally intending to go.

“Um Nami, shouldn't we try to help them save Luffy?” Usopp asked, walking beside her.

“Usopp what would we do that they can't do? Do you really think you can get a good shot with all those people running around? Beside Buggy the clown has a devil fruit,” Nami shook her head pointing out the facts. She didn't have her staff on her, she had come here to shop not to fight.

“Hey! I'll have you know I took down a fishmen all by myself and proved myself to Daddy the parent!” Usopp argued with her, he was lucky he was her gossip buddy and that her hands were full. “We could provide back up at least,” He must still be riding the high of serving his duel.

“Well even if that's the case we have a more important task,” her voice was sharp as ever almost as if it was the crack of lightning.

“like what?”

“Like the Storm I mentioned earlier, the air pressure and temperature have been dropping rapidly for the past while. Plus I saw cumulus clouds heading from the east. That's a sure sign of a Storm rolling in, a big one to boot. What with the ruckus going on in town Square the marines are bound to be out, I really don't want to run into Captain Smoker I've heard terrible things about him,” The lady who owned the boutique she had visited had told her all about the new captain with a devil fruit who had put this town on lockdown, there haven't been any pirates making it out of here. Their business had been surfing from his influence. “What would we do if Merry was washed away when we needed a quick get away? This way we can get her ready to sail away as soon as those three make it back,” She was just glad Sanji was there, she didn't trust Luffy and Zoro to make it back in one piece.

“Holy crap you're right! That absolutely more important Sanji and Zoro will be fine on their own!” Usopp rushed ahead of her. Lucky bastard only had one bag to carry and it had straps.

“Hey wait for me!”

[sunnyie-eve]

12 | Fuzzy Feeling

Series: Unexpected

Paring: (Matt Sturniolo x OFC Brock!) (Chris Sturniolo x OFC Brock!)

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: none

| MASTERLIST |

~

By the time Dani woke up all the guys were in the living hanging out with Madi. Matt didn't want to wake her up so he just let her sleep still.

"About time you join us." Madi laughs as Dani walks over to them.

The two had recently been messaging each other to get to know each other. Nick had talked to Madi about Dani and she thought she seemed cool so she reached out to Dani. They actually hit it off really good. They talked like they were sisters especially late at night on the phone.

"What time is it?"

"4:30, and I picked you up at noon so." Matt laughs at her as she gets one of Chris Pepsis.

"Hey! Hey! Hey!" He shouts at her.

"I'll buy you a case dude." She joins them on the couch.

Not much later Matt and Dani leave to go bowling and Chris was annoyed they didn't ask if anyone else wanted to join them.

"Am I right or wrong?" Chris asks Nick and Madi.

"Ehh, they made plans already." Nick says not caring as much.

"I suck at bowling so." Madi laughs while Chris leaves going to his room. "Why is he extra moody?" She asks Nick.

"I'm guess, jealous but he won't admit it."

"He likes Dani?" Madi gets excited to gossip.

"I'm sure both do deep down. Which doesn't make me too happy because I don't want anything bad happening." Nick explains to her.

"Who does she speed more time with?"

"Matt," Nick says quickly, "He's constantly making plans with her, texting, and calling." He adds, "He pretended like he was with her while on the phone because her friend's boyfriend is a creep."

"I need to study him around her to confirm if he does or not. I'm gonna be like a hawk when they get back."

Meanwhile with Matt and Dani for the past hour have been playfully arguing about how each other are at bowling. "What are you talking about? I would've gotten a strike if you didn't bump into me." Dani points at the score board show how she would've gotten a turkey.

"I hardly bumped into so it shouldn't have matter."

"Hardly my ass!" She playfully shoves him as he goes to pick up his ball.

As he gets ready to shoot the ball, Dani walks up behind him on the other side and leans up kissing his cheek causing him to get a gutter ball.

"You little cheater!" He spins around grabbing her picking her up as she giggles.

Honestly it didn't matter if they were being slightly loud because not that many people were there. Plus the music was playing pretty loudly as well.

As Matt spins them around, Dani's eyes catch sight of Tanner and two of his friends a few lanes over starting a game. And of course he noticed her with Matt.

"Kill me." Dani groans so Matt puts her down.

"What?"

"Fucking, Tanner is here." She moves her eyes that way and Matt looks over.

It was obvious which one was Tanner just by him staring them down. Second was his height since his friends were shorter than him.

"He is ugly." Matt looks back at Dani, "How is he going to be a giant but never grow into his ears or nose? Plus with that hairline along with being a red head. Nothing against red heads but that color with that style? It's 2024 why is his hair spiked?"

Dani can't help crack up, "I honestly don't know what Hallie sees in him. She's way too pretty for him."

As they get closer to finishing their game Tanner walked over to them, "Hey Dani, do you have any money so we can play a second game?"

"No, I'm not even paying for this game. Ask your girlfriend to send you money."

"She doesn't have any unless it's the left over money you give her for our rent and bills." He tells her.

"Excuse me? Extra? There shouldn't be any extra money. I give her the exact amount she tells me my half is." Dani starts to get angry.

"Did I say extra?" He laughs.

"She is stealing money from me?" Dani crosses her arms, "Yet she wants me to pay for your fucking half?" She shouts so Matt quickly ends the game so they can leave.

"The game is over." Matt walks over to the two.

"So you're not Dani's boyfriend? One of the triples from YouTube..." Tanner looks down at Matt.

"That would be me."

"Fuck this. Lets go." Dani grabs Matt's hand so they can leave. Outside Dani tells Matt to give her a second so she could call Hallie and put her on speaker phone so she could set her phone down to talk.

"Do you want me to get out of the car or?" Matt asks but she tells him no as Hallie answers.

"What up?"

"I want you to be honest with me. We've been friends for a good amount of years now." Dani starts off.

"Yeah, and?" Hallie asks confused.

"Are you stealing money from me? Tanner just slipped up that I give you extra money after bills and rent. You already want me to pay his half yet to take some of my money?"

"You seriously believe him?" Hallie laughs.

"I actually do so what the hell Hallie?"

"So what if there's a few dollars left over?" She asks.

"That's stealing from me! Why don't you put some of that crap as his part then? I'm not giving you money anymore. I'll pay it myself."

"Well, I don't want you to do that so it's you give me the money or you have to move out." Hallie tells her.

"Are you kidding me? You would kick me out of the house because I want to make sure I know where my money is going?" Dani laughs at her.

"You know what, I would because I am. You're out of the house not on for all this shit but because you always try to make it seem like Tanner has a thing for you." Hallie says making Dani laugh more.

"Because he does! He constantly flirts when you aren't around."

"I want you out of the house before I get back on Sunday." Hallie tells her so Dani just hangs up deleting her number.

Dani sits there with her eyes close wanting to cry because she was so frustrated and now had to figure out what to do next. "Colby is so going to tell me when I go back home, I told you living with her was a mistake. He's always hated her."

Matt could see all the emotions she was going through and hated it, "Come stay with us."

"Matt there's no room for me." She looks over at him.

"We could figure something out for you. And until we do you can just crash in our rooms with us." He tells her, "We don't want you leaving us because of one bitch."

"That's a lot, Matt. Just for someone you still just met weeks ago. Plus all three of you would need to talk it over." She tells him as she starts the car head over to her place.

"That's all true but I don't care. But I know you know we clicked right away and we're getting pretty close." He doesn't look over at her as she looks at him, "Plus I know my brothers and they wouldn't mind. And if they did I would be like well I have a new roommate so deal with it."

"I appreciate you care."

Matt looks over giving her a smile, "Of course, now how much shit do you have?" He asks causing her to laugh.

They spend about an hour or two getting all of her things putting them in her car and his car before heading to house, "And we can go back for your bed tomorrow with a truck or when it's time we can just bye I whole new bed. I say we should just get you a new one." Matt says as they enter the house.

"I might agree because that piece of shit was killing my back. It's so old and used." Dani agrees with him.

"Why does Dani need her bed?" Chris asks confused by their conversation.

Dani looks at Matt so he asks to talk to the two alone so they all just go up to Nicks room. When they guys were gone, Madi looks at Dani, "About time you guys showed up. How was the date?"

"It wasn't a date." Dani gives her a look as she takes a seat exhausted from everything.

"I know but if it was would it bug you?" Mari asks wanting to know where Dani stood.

"Probably not."

"So you like Matt?" Madi smiles.

"I'm not entirely certain. I just want a friend but how he's been today is doing something to my heart." Dani whines.

"He is a sweetheart." Madi agrees, "Maybe see what happens along the way as you two get closer."

Dani just stares at Madi then laughs, "Nick would lose his mind if I get feelings for Matt. Hell, Chris too."

"Oh I know. We had a talk." She laughs, "So, do you think you might like Chris as well or?"

Dani shrugs, "Out of the two I'm closer to Matt. But each have a thing about them that makes me feel fuzzy inside."

"Well, I wish you luck on your journey."

[sysmedsaresexist]

Hey we've been thinking about that "OSDD was a temporary diagnosis" post for a while and. it makes complete sense what you guys said but like. we can't get ANYONE to diagnose us as anything CDD, let alone anything that isn't going to give us the treatment equivalent of slapping a bandaid on a stab wound. Is there like, anywhere we could look further into P-DID/DID research on the subject? We're not comfortable moving off of the self diagnosis of OSDD-1b yet so we wanna be triple sure to get as much information as possible.

Thankies 💕💕💕

- 🐑 & 🌸 of the Constellation Collective

There's places all over to find that info, but I want to encourage you not to overthink it. You can dig deeper, you absolutely should, but the label... it doesn't matter. It's really, truly okay to get this one wrong and switch around between the labels or use them interchangeably. I promise. You don't need to be right, because you're right regardless (unless it's a misdiagnosis, but I'm going to talk about that at the end of this, because it's important).

I am diagnosed OSDD, but I call myself DID. It's easy, I understand that there's not that big of a difference, no one is going to yell at us (me or you) if it turns out that we have the other one. We're not misrepresenting ourselves. If it turns out I would only ever be diagnosed with OSDD, that doesn't mean I was wrong using the DID label, or that I was even mislabelling myself.

Whether you're diagnosed with DID or OSDD largely depends on where you live. I made a post about this a while back but I can't find it. The US is more likely to diagnose OSDD with minor amnesia than the UK. They're more likely to call minor amnesia DID (as they should). It's literally a dice throw, and not that important.

To quote my BFF, Colin Ross,

The dividing line between DID and most cases of dissociative disorder not otherwise specified is arbitrary [or OSDD]. Most cases of DDNOS are partial forms of DID which lack either clear switching of executive control, full amnesia barriers between identity states, or clear differentiation and structure of identity states. They are partial forms of DID with the same patterns of childhood trauma and co-morbidity.

Also this quote.

So on the one hand we have a vast swathe of people who are, or would be, diagnosed with OSDD as opposed to dissociative identity disorder but who show almost all of the symptoms of DID. Many people therefore see DID and OSDD as appearing on a spectrum, and prefer to conflate the two conditions so that DID/OSDD represents a range of dissociative experiences with more or less amnesia and greater or less elaboration and distinctive identity states or parts of the personality.

It is also what happens in practice: very few people would realistically distinguish between DID and OSDD.

And,

Both OSDD and DID are the result of the spontaneous action of the brain in response to trauma. Both contain different self-states, holding shards of memory and ‘unformulated experience’ (Stern, 1997). Both can be helped by similar approaches to therapy which encourage neuronal repair and result in brain growth such as increased hippocampal volume. Above all, all forms of dissociation need to be validated for their unique contribution to survival.

P-DID is a bit of a new one. Here's the ICD link to it, if you want to read more, but it's going to be the same as above. It's really not that important. Its main difference is that the system doesn't really switch, it's mostly intrusion (like feelings bleeding between alters and host).

These are really only useful for describing how your system generally functions.

Finally, misdiagnosis.

It's okay to be wrong completely. Maybe it's just BPD or OCD, autism, any of the number of disorders that come with identity confusion.

When someone self DX something like BPD and they finally get to therapy and find out it's literally ANYTHING else, we celebrate with them. Good job, you found answers! You're on the right path! You can get the right kind of help now. You did what you had to do in order to get by, and you did your best to try to understand yourself with the tools you had. The use of the first label wasn't malicious, you didn't hurt anyone by using it, and you probably got yourself pretty knowledgeable on the topic.

You are now a resource for those who are also trying to figure themselves out.

Who knows better what the difference between BPD and OSDD is than someone who tried out both and found the answer?

Being wrong doesn't mean you're bad, I don't know why we don't celebrate a misdiagnosis of DID like we do some others. We're all just trying to understand ourselves, and sometimes we're wrong. The point is that eventually we figure it out, and the journey there... recognizing a misdiagnosis is a GOOD part of your story, and it's an important story to share. You were still struggling, regardless of what label you used and what you're being diagnosed with.

Use the label that feels right to you. If you want to keep using OSDD, that's fine. You're describing how your system works right now, and that's perfect. Using DID or OSDD, you'll end up in the same place regardless-- hopefully this means with a good therapist who's going to take your symptoms seriously, but you're going to end up in that same chair no matter what label you're using.

I really hope this helped.

Also, I didn't really touch on it, but I'm sorry you're struggling to get a diagnosis. That must be incredibly frustrating. Don't give up. Unfortunately, the average is about 5 years for most. Keep advocating for yourself.

[yuseirra]

**Ch 160 spoilers**

Hey, I woke up this morning(and I feel like my brain processed two different things overnight)

1.What if Kamiki had the white stars as he was planning to hand the bouquet through Ryosuke, and that's why his eyes were covered in that particular panel? If that's how it was and if weren't covered there, it'd be giving it away that he ACTUALLY had regained hope upon having received Ai's phone call and that he does love Ai and was happy upon the possibility of seeing her again. He was smiling and blushing in that panel as he prepared the bouquet!! That's what's actually there! He was HAPPY! I think he could have just been..happy and excited. He should have just gone and given the flowers to Ai. GOD things screwed up so bad if this is it!!!!

2. That really intimidating/creepy panel of him appeared upon having Aqua tell him he failed to protect his daughter, even while being aware of nino's mental state, along with him adding on that

"You tried to kill your own daughter, didn't you."

I think this could actually be a traumatic response, it this guy's ACTUALLY innocent and really DIDN'T see it coming. How was he supposed to predict nino would try and go stab his daughter, upon with him having suggested they stop doing whatever they've been doing and go turn themselves in? According to how nino's reactions are, it appears that THAT''S what he's said. How can that BE him trying to manipulate her into go stab Ruby? There is no way that could have that intent unless he's really some god who could predict something like that COULD happen with such a suggestion.

Isn't what he's displaying a traumatic response, then??

He lost Ai the same way. He failed to protect both his lover and his daughter, like Aqua's said. If you examine the situation, those two events that have happened are almost identical in terms of how it's played out. He said something really unrelated(wanting to give Ai a bouquet/let's go turn ourselves in to the police)to people he considered as friends and THEY grow crazy and go stab the very people he loves. How was he supposed to predict that? It'd still be enough to traumatize and make him feel so guilty though.

If what Kamiki's said about him having "had no intention to hurt anyone" is true(which he says for Ai's case) then the same may apply for Ruby's case. He may have really didn't seen it coming in those both occasions. How was he supposed to predict those two would be triggered by those words? I'd be able to see where Aqua's coming from if what Kamiki's said COULD be interpreted as something that can sound manipulative, but for his case, I think.. He really could have had no clue that this could happen. But he can't say ANYTHING because the love of his life and his own daughter REALLY could have both died as a reaction of something he said.

Like I said, if we believe him, then Kamiki is REALLY CURSED. Things shouldn't be this way on normal circumstances but it keeps happening to him. If he ain't, then of course he's guilty and unforgivable but what GOOD would it even have on him? Is he REALLY to blame for what's happened? That needs to be explored.

Well, he thought Ai died because of him. If Ruby ended up being stabbed just like her mother then, if he's innocent.. He'd have been out of his mind. I bet he'd have died from guilt. He DOES love Ruby if the white star eyes mean love. We saw him having it when he sees her.

Ai wanted him to be helped and saved. If that is something that must be followed through, what I've made out of this -the above two points I've made- WOULD be correct.

I think this is what's that makes sense. If Kamiki is a person with a normal heart and not some manipulative psychopath(which I think he isn't-a psychopath-.) His reactions can still align with what's been displayed in the previous chapters if THIS is it. Then he isn't even acting in this one, he's trying to be composed but he just found it really hard to be that way in that one instance, upon having been pushed his trauma switch. But he quickly reverts back to being collected again. He doesn't...get agitated.

If this is the guy Ai loved so dearly and has desires of saving, then this is more like it. If not...I have no idea why that plot point even needs to be there. I need to know why Aqua's so convinced his dad has to be evil. If he brings up a good reason, I am all ears, but it's not mentioned yet. So I'm holding out on this. Ai, punish Kamiki from the stars if he's really a monster, and bless him if he isn't. He needs it. PLEASE save this guy if he's innocent. This is suffering.. It's too much if what he's going through is never what he's asked for.

[aew-kun-age-regression]

"Test"

Pairing: Caregiver!Peter Parker x Little!Reader.

Summary: After a test makes reader slip, Peter is there to help.

Warnings: Trying to put off regression, exam stress, nickname (Lovie)

(Gender Neutral Reader)

‼️THIS IS NOT NSFW‼️

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NOT Proofread

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You were both sat in your English classroom. It didn't take a genius to figure out that English was not Peters best subject. His was science. Didn't matter which one; chemistry, biology, physics, he was good at it all.

You were normally pretty good when it comes to English, although finding some topics hard. Today was a day with an exam. And it happened to be on one of the things you were not very good at. Poetry. You didn't understand why it couldn't of been on ANY other topic. You and poetry didn't go well. It stressed you out as you couldn't remember half of them and they were difficult to read and understand.

The test paper had been placed on your desk and as you read the question you started to get increasingly confused. Peter looked over to you once he had read the question, knowing you were already struggling to not slip. You'd been trying to stay big since break and you'd done well so far, you just had to get through the last two hours and then school was over. Its safe to say he wasn't suprised when he made eye contact with you to see your eyes glazed over ever so slightly. You had clearly got overwhelmed and had slipped.

There was nothing Peter or you could do unless you guys left class early but that would risk the both of you getting a fail grade. So as Peter went to gather up his stuff to leave with you, you huffed and picked up your pen and began writing, (not that it made any sense).

Peter smiled sadly at you knowing your were trying to force yourself to be big enough to get through the test.

Peter noticed that by the last 20 minutes of the test you had written a page worth of work but had not been able to complete the goals the teacher had set, seeing that you were upset with what you had accomplished Peter decided to get your attention.

Thank god for Tony's tech. Upon finding out you were a little Tony insisted on a way of direct communication for you with all of the Avengers, in case of emergencies. Peter deemed this an emergency. He tapped the wrist watch twice which sent an alert to your own wrist watch, buzzing slightly against your skin. You looked up to Peter confused on what was wrong.

Now Peter had your attention (and the teacher was busy reprimanding Flash for trying to cheat) Peter decided to pull a silly face at you. Your face lit up immediately, trying not to giggle and draw any attention to yourself. He was clearly trying to keep your mind off of the test and how it went.

This carried on until finally the teacher said to give in the tests to her. As you went to get up to give your test to her Peter walked passed and took your paper, going to give it to the teacher along with his own.

Now packed up everyone began leaving the room. Peter lightly grasped your hand and led you the quiet way to the front of the school to avoid people.

"Hey Lovie" He smiled and kissed your forehead.

You giggled "hiiiii"

"Would you like to have a movie night tonight?" Peter asked.

"Really?!"

"Yes really, Lovie"

"Disney??"

"Yes we can watch Disney movies" Peter said, laughing.

The rest of the evening was spent watching Disney movies until your finally fell asleep on Peters chest. He didn't dare move, just wanting you to rest after the day you had.

[noys-boise]

the Caroline in the city references in family guy truly fuck me up. buckle the fuck up because I'm going to Overanalyze

so in family guy season 1 episode 6 (YES THAT EARLY ON) there's a joke where peter griffin says he once pretended to be gay by watching Caroline in the city. it then actually cuts to him watching Caroline in the city (well like he was watching what seemed like a pretty accurate recreation of the vibes of the citc intro) and then. well that's it

but of course I'm too autistic to not think about this because i have MANY questions

1. legit where did the idea that watching citc is a gay thing come from. I'm not asking this in a "whoa joking about tv shows making you gay is problematic" way because I'm aware family guy is full of jokes like that and worse. I'm asking this legitimately. because on one hand i guess you could argue that having a female main character= unmasculine=gay but that brings me to my second question

2) out of all possible tv shows to do this joke with... why Caroline in the city. and I'll have more to say on this later but i will say if you look at the time period of this. this episode of family guy aired on may 9th, 1999. the last episode of Caroline in the city aired on April 26th, 1999. i don't know how long the production of a family guy episode is but I'm going to assume Caroline in the city was still running when they wrote this episode but it was very much towards the end. but here's the thing. i spend a lot of time analyzing the cultural impact of citc and I've come to the conclusion that it was kinda relevant during season 1 but not many people watched it by season 4 (which led to that torturous non ending from early cancellation) and i legitimately don't know why this is the show they chose. like if we're going for a gay thing, Will and Grace was already airing at this time, i think more people knew about that than Caroline in the city. and there was a Caroline in the city fandom online but from what I've seen it was veeery predominantly straight. THAT BEING SAID

3) every Caroline in the city fan i see lately including myself is queer. like he couldn't have known that unless he also has future vision but considering they say Simpsons predicted everything in the future the possibility that they got all that but family guy instead just predicted a gay Caroline in the city fandom is SO funny to me

4) but back on the topic, the only other explanation i have is that this is another one of those annoyingly tasteless digs at Malcolm Gets for allegedly not being able to play a straight character convincingly (untrue) but for it to be any of these we'd have to assume that Seth MacFarlane, the creator of family guy has actually seen enough of Caroline in the city to know these things which. surely can't be the case

or... can it?

3) this is not the last time Caroline in the city was referenced in a Seth MacFarlane show. okay this is the really insane part to me. in american dad there's an episode where the characters find a "secret ending" to Caroline in the city where Caroline kills everyone and takes over the city or whatever. it's dumb, it makes me uncomfortable and stuff but there's also two very important things to note about this:

a) they got Lea Thompson to voice Caroline for like one line in this episode. i legitimately want to know what that conversation sounded like. "hey Lea could you do just one line for this episode? it's basically your character from Caroline in the city turning evil and killing everyone she loves in a secret ending to the show, are you interested?" this one isn't related to any of my conspiracy theories the thought is just funny to me

b) more importantly they like. legitimately drew them. like it was recognizably Caroline, Richard, Annie and Del. and like they showed them for like two seconds. that's a lot of attention to detail for two seconds. and again this is not the first time there was a Caroline in the city reference in a Seth MacFarlane show but SURELY this is the last one right?

WRONG!!

4) THERE'S ANOTHER REFERENCE IN AMERICAN DAD! there's a character who says something about how you should respect your elders because they lived through 4 seasons of Caroline in the city whatever that is supposed to mean! that's the THIRD TIME!

5) let's return to my second point for a second. i think i skimmed over one of the most glarring logical issue with the original family guy joke. peter claimed he pretended to be gay by watching Caroline in the city, but in the cutaway gag, he is fully alone in his own living room, watching Caroline in the city. (side note, it is a really, really good recreation of the citc intro which adds to my Seth MacFarlane has seen some Caroline in the city theory because why else would he pay attention to this detail) but.... how is that pretending? who was he pretending to? did he memorize every plot point to later recount it to pretend to be a fan? at that point he's just straight up a fan isn't he? he could've just told people he watched Caroline in the city if he wanted to pretend to be gay! why did he even pretend to be gay that's never explained and it's so specific...

now that I mentioned it it's very specific and familiar.....

6) Caroline in the city season 1 episode 3 Caroline and the gay art show, Richard pretends to be gay to sell his art AND in season 3 episode 20 Caroline and the little white lies, Del and Charlie pretend to be gay for insurance reasons. coincidence? well probably but what if it's NOT? is Seth MacFarlane trying to tell us he's secretly a Caroline in the city fan?

7) let's look at it in a meta way. Seth MacFarlane is the voice of peter griffin. in a way they're one and the same, aren't they? peter griffin wasn't really pretending to be gay, because he was at home watching citc on his own as i already mentioned it. is it just a guilty pleasure for him? is Seth MacFarlane too ashamed to admit he enjoys Caroline in the city so he has to communicate it through jokes in his tv shows?

8) or there's the other interpretation that makes me sound like the gaylor truthers but hear me out. if Seth Rudesky thinks watching Caroline in the city makes you gay but he's also signalling that he probably watched at least some of it, is he just trying to come out to us?

i once thought about turning this into a youtube video essay but I'm not sure anyone would watch it. that being said, i might still do it, why not?

[authoralexharvey]

INTERVIEW WITH A WRITEBLR — @theglitchywriterboi

Who You Are:

Sparrow Aiden || He/xe

I'm Sparrow Aiden, I'm genderfluid/a trans guy & bi & mixed. My current favorite book is Flesh Eater by Travis Riddle

What You Write:

What genres do you write in? What age ranges do you write for?

Fantasy, horror, and sci-fi. Young adult.

What genre would you write in for the rest of your life, if you could? What about that genre appeals to you?

Probably like fantasy. I just think it's really fun & you can make your own rules for the whole universe [which you can do for others ofc but still-]

What genre/s will you not write unless you HAVE to? What about that genre turns you off?

Romance. I write romance in my stories, but I don't think I could do that as the main focus, especially not smut [I respect it though, just very much not for me writing wise-]

Who is your target audience? Do you think anyone outside of that would get anything out of your works?

Queer people & queer POC. I think people outside those groups would still enjoy it, at least I hope !!!

What kind of themes do you tend to focus on? What kinds of tropes? What about them appeals to you?

I don't really normally have a theme in mind - maybe death is inevitable & we can't prevent it no matter how much power we have. Also friendship & shit.

What themes or tropes can you not stand? What about them turn you off?

The one character that's always bullied for no reason ??? Like Meg from Family Guy or Jerry from Parks & Rec. It's just needlessly mean, & at least in Jerry's case he is simply trying to be nice & not doing anything :(

What are you currently working on? How long have you been working on it?

A lot of things, but mostly Deaths Diner. I've been working on it since like 8th grade [so like 7ish years ??] & I'm still not close to done 😮‍💨. Second main WIP is The River By The Hotel & a few years but idk how many exactly. Not near as long as Deaths Diner though.

Why do you write? What keeps you writing?

I really enjoy writing !!! & I've always wanted to be published - not for money or anything [though money would be nice] but because it's one thing to sew it in a document, but a whole different thing to be able to hold it & have it impact other people. Plus I've always wanted to give people joy & if people get that from my writing that'd be very cool - even if it's only one person

How long have you been writing? What do you think first drew you to it?

Since I was little. But the first time I knew I WANTED to be a writer was when I was watching Doctor Who w/ my family & after the intro it said "Written by [whoever wrote that episode]" & I thought that was so cool !! Like someone wrote that & my family & I are interacting w/ it & enjoy it !! [& being a screenwriter would be cool, but it wasn't really for me environment wise so I turned towards writing stories/books & I liked reading anyway so-]

Where do you get your inspiration from? Is that how you got your inspiration for your current project? If not, where did the inspiration come from?

It mostly comes randomly, but anything tbh. Sometimes its from a movie or show, sometimes it's from a book, sometimes it's just a "Hey, wouldn’t a story about [X] be interesting haha… Wait that's actually amazing-". The inspiration for Deaths Diner actually came about through the latter. My brother jokingly said "Haha, we should have our own show" & me being a dumb 8th grader was like "WE SHOULD !!!" So I started scripting it. Then I realized our lives aren't interesting enough to have a show based off us, so I added ghosts, then one thing lead to another & long story short it's absolutely nothing like our lives [But I think it's still really cool-]. The inspiration for The River By The Hotel is also [very loosely] based off my life too. Basically as a kid my brother & I WOULD go to hotels to visit our mom & at one there were two kids. My brother & I did go over to the river area w/ them. The stuff that didn't happen was all thr paranormal monster stuff. [But that was brought on because when we went home my little brother told me he almost fell in, so I was like "What if he did & the river was actually a portal to another world ?"]

What work of yours are you most proud of? Why?

Probably Deaths Diner. I'm still on the first draft & while it's nowhere near done, I've worked so hard & long on it, it's like my baby. I can't wait to be finished w/ it though so I can start the second book in the series

Have you published anything? Do you want to?

I haven't yet. But I really want to !! Hoping to publish something this year or next year

What part of the publishing process most appeals to you? What part least appeals to you?

Most appealing is being able to get a physical copy of my book, because it's like "Yooo I did it !! I actually did it !!!". Least appealing is probably the critics. I know even the best books & the books I love have people that don't like them, but still. It's daunting publishing something you spent so much time on because of the thought people might despise it.

What part of the writing process most appeals to you? What part is least appealing?

The actual writing is most appealing, because its fun to write, the editing is least appealing. Mostly because I get in my head about the quality & get stuck trying to fix everything - even when there's nothing to fix [or nothing major]

Do you have a writing process? Do you have an ideal setup? Do you write in pure chaos? Talk about your process a bit.

Kinda chaos. I just write when I feel like it & I'm a bit of a pantser [maybe more like a plantser though] sometimes, especially w/ a series, I know the majors stops [like we start here, then this happens in the middle, then the end happens. But how I get there I don't know & even w/ the stuff I do know its like a loose idea.] but w/ stand-alones I normally don't know that. I have some scenes planned, but other than that I have zero idea how the book will end

Your Thoughts on Writeblr:

How long have you been a writeblr? What inspired you to join the community?

A few years now. I wanted to join to have a place to share my writing & to make friends w/ other writers

Shout out some of your favorite writeblrs. How did you find them and what made you want to follow them?

Aaaa this is so hard I really like all my writeblr mutuals/friends it's hard to pick but Uuuuuuhhh- @jezifster, @daisywords, @writing-is-a-martial-art, @athena-anna-rose, @penspiration-writing, @caligraphyzev, @writingpotato07, @writewithfire, @pen-of-roses, @e-lisard, @ashen-crest, @the-finch-address, @cryptid-s-wips, @chrismerle, & so many others !!! I don't know how I stumbled onto all of them, but they're all cool people & cool writers

What is your favorite part about writeblr?

The community & event

What do you think writeblr could improve on? How do you think we can go about doing so?

I don't know tbh

How do you contribute to the writeblr community? Do you think you could be doing more?

I think I could interact more. I'm very forgetful so sometimes I forget to reply to stuff or post things. I try to share others writing & stuff

What kinds of posts do you most like to interact with?

All kinds, other people's writing & short stories, peoples replies to tag games, etc

What kind of posts do you most like to make?

Updates about progress

Finally, anywhere else online we may be able to find you?

On twitter: @WriterGlitch & on Instagram: @TheGlitchyWriter [though I'm most active on tumblr]

[mickyaltierisgf]

Hey I just read your Poly!Romickey and I was wondering if you’d be able to write them again with a a reader who is a detective working on their ghost face cases, and she asks them for advice to get into the mind of the killer (not knowing that her boyfriends are the killers) 💗💗💗

missing at sunrise studios

poly!ghostface romickey x fem!reader (though anyone can read)

You sighed quietly, jostled a bit between the two men on either side of you. Roman had his right arm around your shoulders, and Mickey’s left hand was fidgeting with one of your hands in his lap. You weren’t paying attention to what they were saying; you were only aware of the inflection of their voices as they argued about the movie you were watching. The movie itself may as well not have been playing; your mind was miles away.

You felt a little bit guilty; it was a rare evening that the three of you could actually sit like this and enjoy a movie together. Roman was on set at all hours of the day and night, overseeing everything to an almost fanatical level of perfectionism. And ever since Mickey had (in his own words) "slept his way to the top" and been assigned as Director of Photography, he was there just as much. Up until recently, you’d had a full schedule yourself, until the Chief decided you needed a few weeks off. You gritted your teeth at the thought.

There wasn’t much you could do from home except worry about your two boyfriends and jump at every shadow, gun drawn, just in case. There were weird things going on at that studio. People walking off set and never returning. Some seemingly disappearing from their trailers. Harassing phone calls, all with that creepy voice modulator disguising the caller’s real voice. You’d gotten such a phone call yourself, in your partner’s voice, warning you to drop the investigation unless you wanted to be added to the list of missing persons.

You clenched your hands, and you felt Mickey nudge you a bit, but you were too deeply entrenched in your own thoughts. It was a massive violation for them to have used your partner’s voice to intimidate you in that way. Your partner, who you shared your life with almost as much as your boyfriends, the person you were required to trust and rely on the most. And even though you knew it wasn’t truly his voice speaking to you, trying to frighten you and weaken your trust in him, you felt it work just the tiniest bit. Your partner’s voice was somewhere in a dark corner of your mind, taunting you, and you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to disassociate it from the killer.

"She’s catatonic," Mickey said, waving a hand in front of your face until you snapped to attention.

"What?" You asked, looking between him and Roman now.

"She’s fine," Roman replied, "the movie’s just boring. I’m falling asleep myself."

"You picked the movie," Mickey pointed his finger at him accusingly.

"At your recommendation," Roman defended. "That’s what I get for listening to you."

"You bitch about every movie unless it’s some lame poduction you worked on yourself," Mickey said with a look of disdain.

"At least I’ve worked on productions," Roman replied contemptuously.

"You guys always do this," you interjected before Mickey could answer. "You could just flirt like normal people instead of instigating fights all the time, you know."

"It’s more fun this way," Mickey smirked, to which you and Roman snorted.

You peeled the sheet away and crawled slowly out of bed, trying not to disturb either of the men sleeping beside you. When you stood up, you turned to make sure neither of them were awake. Mickey moved into your spot, probably seeking warmth, and then attached himself to Roman. You gave a half-smile before slipping out of the room. Despite everything, your mind was still on the case. Until actual bodies were found, the studio wasn’t going to be shut down, and that meant the show would have to go on. Mickey and Roman didn’t seem too concerned, but that didn’t mean you weren’t concerned enough for the both of them.

You sat down at your desk, flicking the small lamp on, and flipped open the case file. There wasn’t much info to go on, as there wasn’t much evidence gathered yet. It was unlike the killer to not leave any mutilated bodies behind, but you figured that was done purposely. Maybe whoever it was, or whoever they were, had a reason to want the studio to stay open and operational.

You barely suppressed a yawn, booting up the computer to look up old cases and see if you could glean anything from them. You looked up, startled, when you heard footsteps behind you. Roman ran a hand down your back soothingly. "Sorry, I thought you heard me." You shook your head, eyebrows a bit furrowed. He hadn’t made the faintest sound until he was already behind you. "What are you reading?" he questioned, squinting at the bright screen.

Mickey walked in next, announcing his presence by stubbing his toe and hissing in pain. You smothered a laugh behind your palm as he limped towards you. He was wearing Roman’s glasses, which Roman promptly removed and placed on his own face. "Are we going for round two in here?" Mickey asked. "I always wanted to try out the desk."

"We’re not screwing on the desk." Roman shut that down immediately, leaning closer to you to read the text on the screen.

"Not tonight at least," you tacked on, sharing a grin with Mickey.

"Ghostface?" Roman mumbled, straightening back up. "Why are you reading about this right now?"

"Just looking for... I don’t know; clues maybe? Patterns? Something. No one at the precinct's taking this case seriously," you sighed, frustrated. "More people have gone missing from that studio of yours than the Bermuda Triangle," you said sarcastically.

"No one’s gone missing," Roman stated matter-of-factly. "I mean, 2 or 3 extras maybe, who probably took a few of our props with them, by the way."

"They’re probably auctioning that stuff on eBay right now," Mickey agreed.

"More like 4 or 5. One of which was a Security Guard. And even if they’re just ‘extras', they’re still people. People who can’t sell things online because they’re missing," you emphasized.

"There’s no Ghostface killer running around MY set," Roman insisted, hands on his hips.

"I got a call!" You all but yelled. "The sick freak called me using my partner’s voice."

"What did they say?" Mickey asked.

"Told me to drop the case unless I want to go missing too," you said with a slight eye roll.

"Well...what if it really was your partner?" Mickey insinuated.

"He would never say something like that, least of all to me," you said firmly, though that same tiny part of your brain whispered Mickey’s words insidiously. You shook it off, sighing again. "And now I need to figure out who did say it. But I’ve got nothing to go on here except old police reports and Gale Weathers' books. I need to get in the killer’s head somehow."

"I think it would be better if you got in my pants," Mickey said suggestively.

"I’m being serious, Mickey."

"So was he," Roman deadpanned.

"C’mon, let’s at least take this seriously in bed," Mickey cajoled, trying to haul you up from your chair.

You let yourself be pulled up and led away from the desk, with Roman following behind you both. You were situated in the middle of the bed again, and as Mickey and Roman joined you, you sat up. "I’m never going to get to sleep if I don’t make at least some progress."

Mickey groaned, and you were surprised when you felt a hand weave in your hair and tug you down. Roman leaned over you, his hand holding you in place. "We’ll talk in the morning. Now sleep," he commanded.

"You made him mad," Mickey taunted.

"Shut the fuck up, Mick," Roman said.

"He’s a real potty mouth when he’s upset. Runs in the family," Mickey said conspiratorially.

Roman made a quiet sound in his throat, almost like a growl, and his hand left your hair before he was moving over you to get to Mickey.

You took the warm cup Roman handed you and sipped the liquid calmly. Mickey had a poptart hanging out of his mouth as he joined you at the table, setting down a plate with some toast for you and Roman. Roman ate the toast even as he made a face as though he wasn’t savoring the taste. Mickey didn’t pay him any mind, munching serenely on his poptart. You left your toast untouched, smirking at Mickey when Roman reached for it next.

"So about last night?" you prompted.

"You want to get in the killer's head," Mickey said.

"There's probably two," you guessed.

Mickey nodded with a grin. "Clever girl," he quoted. You rolled your eyes at the reference.

"Not necessarily," Roman piped up, and you shrugged at him.

"Why would they target unknown extras instead of established actors?" Mickey asked.

"To lay low? Sate his or her bloodlust without drawing too much attention. The news hasn’t even been reporting this," you answered.

"Okay, and who could get into the studio anytime they want?"

"Cast, crew, security," you ticked off your fingers and shrugged again.

"The police," Roman added.

"And there haven’t been any bodies, right?" Mickey prodded. "So if these people are dead, maybe it didn’t happen at the studio."

"Or the killer knows how to get rid of dead bodies," Roman said.

"But why call me? If they want to lay low and avoid suspicion..." You asked, slumping back in your chair, feeling exhausted from trying to piece all this together.

"That’s Ghostface’s MO, isn’t it?" Roman asked.

"And what’s the point if nobody knows?" Mickey questioned. "Somebody has to know. Somebody has to be interested, or it’s like putting on a play for an empty audience."

"You’re the audience," Roman concluded for him.

"So they’re doing all this to mess with me?" you asked uncertainly.

"Maybe," Mickey said. "Who’d want to mess with you?"

You looked at Mickey, knowing immediately who he was thinking about. Aside from him, Roman, and your family (which was absolutely out of the question), all your friends were basically your co-workers.

"The killer’s able to change their voice," you said lowly. "It’s not him. Or anyone from the precinct."

"Who would even have tech like that besides the government?" Roman asked.

"Exactly." Mickey nodded sagely. "And who does the government fund the most? The police."

You sat there silently, your mouth slightly open, as you processed all this.

"So this is a government conspiracy now?" Roman asked, his face scrunched up in disbelief.

"Everything’s a government conspiracy." Mickey smiled wide, his eyes practically shining. "Haven’t you watched ‘Enemy of the State’?"

You groaned.

"I’ll add it to the list," Roman said disinterestedly. "Get dressed, or I’m leaving without you," he added, checking the time on his watch.

"Wanna come with?" Mickey asked you. "You can skulk around a bit."

"Sure, I guess. I have nothing to do around here anyway," you said, getting up to follow Mickey to your bedroom.

Your cellphone rang, startling you and freezing you in your tracks. You looked down at the caller ID, seeing your partner’s name. You darted your eyes to the side and tucked your phone away hurriedly. You strongly doubted this was some high-level conspiracy, despite Mickey’s enthusiasm for the idea, but you weren’t remotely in the frame of mind to deal with any of that right now.

[cilil]

Since everyone are asking about ships, do you have: popular ship that you are not into, but can see the idea; popular ship you are not into and can't understand why; and a ship popularity of which surprises you (in either positive or negative sense).

Genuinely curious, not trying to start any drama, but naturally feel free to delete if you don't feel like answering. Nice day to you!

Hey anon! Lovely day to you too and thanks for the ask!

(I'm going to preface this by saying these type of asks can be a bit tough to answer for me, since I'm just pretty chill with ships and sometimes can't even tell how popular a thing is while drifting around in my comfortable little bubble, and my answers might not be super juicy, but I wanted to try giving some anyway ^^)

Popular ship that you are not into, but can see the idea

I brainstormed a bit which popular ships came to mind and also went on AO3 to filter for the most written Silm ships. I actually love all the ones that came up (especially Angbang haha), so I suppose I have nothing in that regard.

If I wanted to give a funny answer, I'd say Beren/Lúthien (the author's canonical self-insert would count as fairly popular, yeah?) because yes, I get the idea and there's a lot of romantic stuff going on, but I will never understand giving up fucking hot angels in Valinor for the sake of a human man who came crawling out of the bushes one day (listen, you guys do you, and creeping on people in forests seems to be some sort of Ainurin/Valinorean dating tradition, but I would be calling the police, ok? Don't creep on me in my forest please unless your name is Eönwë). Lúthien, girl, I love you, but this choice is personally offensive to me and my efforts to get my hands on hot angels. Maybe I'm also just too arospec for this, happy pride month.

(I should perhaps add that such opinions are always subject to change, all it takes is one person giving me one idea that gets me thinking and the entire thing could look different tomorrow. These are snapshots of a moment in time, if you will.)

((Also in case it needs to be said, please nobody take my funny answers too seriously.))

Popular ship you are not into and can't understand why

Hmmm, to properly answer that I would probably have to get into my NOTPs and that's a topic I don't want to discuss on this blog.

Please don't feel bad for asking, I appreciate it, but that's just one thing I decided for myself because, while I think nobody should put too much emphasis on my - a random person on the internet that I believe nobody here has met! - opinion, some people do and/or get upset that not everyone likes their ship. And I get it, I don't like people talking crap about my favorite characters and ships to my face either. So yeah, I just don't want anyone to feel uncomfortable :)

Ship popularity of which surprises you (in either positive or negative sense)

Heh. This will be a fun one, but bear with me for a second, alright?😅

I'm going to say Russingon. Now, now, put down the pitchforks. When I read the Silmarillion, I was very new to fandom and shipping in general and was also reading mostly just for an overview of everything and to learn more about Melkor and Mairon, so I didn't think too much of the Russingon interactions. Hopping onto AO3 immediately after, I quickly learned about them being shipped, went "oh yeah, I totally see this" and have been a supporter ever since.

The reason why its popularity surprises me is quite simply that I come from a fandom where people were incredibly weird and hostile regarding any sort of incest, including all variations of pseudo-incest ("sibling-coded", found family, etc.). I essentially went from a fandom that bullied me out of shipping two characters who were neither biologically related nor had grown up together nor even knew each other prior to their meeting as adults simply because they apparently had sibling vibes to a fandom whose top ship are half-cousins.

In case I haven't made it sufficiently clear: It was a very positive surprise. I frankly think very little of fandoms who clutch their pearls over pixels on a screen kissing and police what people can and can't ship, and I feel just so much more comfortable in a fandom where people are more chill and used to it. Thank you, Russingon!