#using a pencil and a pen that weren't even mine

[st4rsinthenight]

May your feet serve you well and the rest be sent to hell

Where they always have belonged, cold hearts grew colder songs

Fate will play us out with a song of pure romance

STOMP YOUR FEET AND CLAP YOUR HANDS ~ !!

KILL TONIGHT !!

SHOW THEM ALLLLL YOU'RE NOT THE ORDINARY TYPEEE- !!

★..ermheh★

[karasuno-planet]

All's fair—Academic Rivals | Tsukishima Kei

Tsukishima x Reader (she/her pronouns used)

wc: 1.1k

genre: kinda angsty but nothing crazy! sfw

warnings: feelings of inferiority, jealousy, slight cursing, calculus 💀

a/n: finally the long awaited academic rivals fic!! sorry I've been MIA for a couple days, I was traveling <3 everyone say thank you to @23starii , @alexaslibrary13 , @nym-blogs , and @h0neymustardwh0re for asking and encouraging me to write this one :)

(gif not mine)

Even after a long losing streak on the boy's volleyball team, Tsukishima always had one thing he believed he could never feel defeated in: his academics. School was just naturally easy to him, but that's not to say he doesn't work hard. It was his innate intelligence coupled with his work ethic that made him an absolute force in the classroom.

So when the calculus tests were being handed back, there wasn't a worry in his mind. The teacher set it on his desk face down.

Tsk, how dramatic, he thought, flipping it over.

In big red pen, he saw 98% written in bold on the top of the paper. Scoring a 98 was certainly above average, but not above Tsukki's average.

Before he could say a word the teacher was projecting at the front of the class, "Sorry, but there's no curve on this one. Somebody managed a perfect score, so it was achievable."

What?

The class murmured, upset with pretty mediocre grades for such a prestigious class. Discontent spouted from all directions. Well, besides directly from Tsukki's left hand side, where you sat. It was silent as a mouse. Awfully suspicious.

He stole a quick side glance at you to see exactly what he feared, a big, bold, 100% at the top of your test.

No matter how hard he tried for the rest of the day, he just couldn't shake that jealousy from his mind— the constant image of your perfect test seemingly ingrained to the back of his eyelids. He was so used to setting the curve in that class, how could he have overlooked competition this whole time?

☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Later that day at practice, he tried channeling his emotions into his gameplay, with mild success. He was definitely playing with the kind of ambition he often lacked after long days of school.

When the team stopped for a water break, Nishinoya was quick to chime in, "Hey Tsukki, what's got you so worked up??"

The annoying presence of his pesky teammate irritated Tsukishima, "I doubt you'd even be able to understand it, dumbass."

Noya's face dropped at the outburst, "Sure Tsukki. Just let me know when you've pulled the stick out of your butt!!"

☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Days went by, then weeks, and Tsukishima's hunger to match your academic achievement only grew. He became exceedingly obvious about it.

Every time you raised your hand, suddenly he did.

At the end of every test, when you stood up to turn it in, so did he. And his legs were long enough to beat you to handing it in every time.

When the tests were returned, you started to turn and catch his eye as he stared intensely trying to get a peak at your grade. Eventually you just made an effort to show him. After all, you weren't insecure about your grades. They were phenomenal and you both knew it.

The real surprises began when you both started to talk to each other. Suddenly the rivalry was put into words. It started out friendly, asking about when due dates were and simple things like that, but eventually you started to full-on taunt each other. Everything became a competition, and you weren't about to lose.

Even friendship had become a competition, you could feel Tsukishima's glare burning a hole in you when you turned around and asked Yamaguchi for a pencil one time. Not to mention when he had caught you talking to him before class. If only he had known what kind of information Yamaguchi let slip about him.

The final straw was when the teacher called for a group project, and you immediately turned around and looked at Yamaguchi. That was too far. Tsukishima immediately snapped, "Y/n, what do you think you're doing?"

"What's the big deal?"

Tsukki met your resistance with fierce eye contact, "You're working with me."

"huh?"

Yamaguchi's face was just as shocked as yours for a second, but he quickly shook it off and asked a boy who sat near him to work with him.

You pulled up a chair to Tsukki's desk and got to work on the packet of problems you were assigned to complete during the next two classes. You remained mostly in silence, dividing the work equally, but occasionally you shared glances and raised your eyebrows as a way to taunt each other.

As you started to run out of room on your paper and move far to the right side with your writing, your hand bumped Tsukki's. You could feel your heart drop and he quickly recoiled and pulled his hand away.

When you finished your allotment of problems for the day and set your pencil down, Tsukishima quickly grabbed your paper and starting checking over your work as you followed suit, looking over his.

He sighed, setting your paper down, free off mistakes. "Wow, you aren't quite as hopeless as I thought."

"Same to you..." you returned his completed problems, "If only you were as good at volleyball as you are at calculus."

"Like you would know," he returned your banter with a fervor, a quality you caught yourself enjoying a little.

"You'd think with four eyes you'd be a little more observant..."

"What?" He grasped to understand your insinuation.

"Look harder in the student section next time."

He sat in silence, floored, now knowing you had been watching him play. Is this what he had caught you and Yamaguchi discussing before? He felt like a fool, not being able to feel your malicious gaze on the court—not even considering that you might've been there.

Little did he know, it wasn't quite malice in your heart as you watched him play.

☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

He left without saying a word when the bell rung, and flocked straight to Yamaguchi to walk with him to practice.

They made sure to walk out of the vicinity of the classroom before Yamaguchi broke the silence, "Tsukki?"

"Yes?"

"I'm not upset that you didn't partner with me, but uh... why her? I thought you kinda hated her."

"Oh, uh... I don't know. I didn't want her to work with you."

Yamaguchi looked Tsukki in the eyes, his curiosity peaking, "Do you have a crush on her?"

Tsukishima was completely taken aback, "A crush??" He hesitated, "Yamaguchi, don't say stuff like that."

[masterlist]

[koolades-world]

this piece is established relationship! with the nature of it anyways it probably would have been if i wanted it to or not lol. here's the post the idea came from and thank you to a wonderful mutual of mine for the inspo :)

Sharing is Caring

"Satan? You in here?" You pushed open the doors to the library in search of the knowledgeable demon. It was almost totally silent, minus the sound of a gentle, crackling fire.

"Yes. I'm by the fireplace." Satan's voiced echoed through the large room. You shut the door behind you and made your way over to where you'd heard him. "Hello, Mc. How was RAD today?" You quickly made yourself comfortable next to him. You threw your bag down onto the table in front of you and stretched out your limbs. He was reading, as usual.

"Tiring. But not too bad. Baking club was fun. Barbatos taught us how to make a bread that has candy hearts in it. We'll bake it tomorrow. He told us to think of a certain someone while making it for the most desirable outcome taste wise. Guess who I thought of?" You playfully elbowed Satan.

"Was it Cerberus?" He knew how much you cared for that dog, but you also knew he must've been messing with you.

"Noooo. Guess again, silly billy." You loved his tongue-in-cheek antics. Most weren't granted the chance to see that side of him, which was something you were eternally grateful for. He was much more than just the Avatar of Wrath, and it was a real shame others didn't take the time to learn the rest of him.

"Solomon, mayhaps?" You could see the hints of a smile begin to light up his face. You began to laugh as he tried harder to conceal his growing emotion.

"No! I'll give you a hint. He's blond, very helpful, and a genius." You poked his cheeks. He finally put the book down and allowed the joy to overtake his still features.

"So it's Luke then." He himself was beginning to chuckle.

"Wrong again. It's you! You're not very good at guessing games." You swatted at his arms as he put them around you to pull you into his side.

"Thank you, Mc. That's very thoughtful of you." He pressed a kiss on top of your head and into your hair.

"It's going to be delicious, I just know it. Even if the bread is awful, you'll still taste the heart and soul I put into it." You hugged him back, and savored the moment.

"You're so sweet. I'll make sure to enjoy it, just for you." The both of you eventually went back to being productive after you'd exchanged more sweet talk. You had homework to get done and he had a book to finish.

While digging through your bag for your supplies, you inevitably pulled out your pencil case. It contained what was arguably one of the most important tools for completing homework. You tried to fish out your favorite pen and instead found some sort of hard candy you'd been given by a professor earlier that day. You'd personally confirmed it was safe for human consumption, and decided to save it for while you were doing work later. Since it was Satan, despite the fact that he was enthralled in his book, he noticed almost immediately that you'd put something in your mouth. Maybe it was the scent, or the sudden movement, but you caught his attention.

"What's that?" He peeked over the top of his book, intrigued.

"A cinnamon hard candy. It's probably the most normal candy I've had in a long time. Got it for answering a question correctly in Devildom History." You gently blew on Satan's face so he could really smell the cinnamon.

"Where's mine?" He asked. You couldn't tell if he was being sincere or not, but at that point it was too late to give it to him since it was already in your mouth.

"Didn't you have Devildom History today too? You should've gotten your own, babe." You stuck your tongue out at him with the candy right in the center. He lightheartedly rolled his eyes back at you. You thought that was the end of that conversation as he turned his attention back to the book. Little did you know, he was in the middle of devising a plan to 'borrow' the candy from you.

He started by speaking up whenever he could when you were doing your homework. Whenever he saw you hesitate on something, he’d reassure you or help guide you to the correct answer. From there, he would also start to read romantic quotes from what he happened to be reading. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary for him. On the contrary, it would be more odd if he didn't.

"I need a break." You put the book you were holding back onto the table. To mentally relax, you decided to scroll on Devilgram. As you did though, Satan vied for you attention more than usual. Rather than directly asking or whining, he was subtle in his pleading. It didn't take you long to cave.

"You're planning something, aren't you?" You knew him well.

"Is it a crime for a demon to want attention from his amazing, gorgeous partner?" He tried to dodge the question, but unfortunately for him, you saw right him.

"I expect this kind of behavior from Mammon." Satan went silent, but met your gaze. "Do you want a kiss?" You could see the way his features lit up. You planted kisses all over his face, and he returned the favor. When your little exchange was over, you realized something was missing.

Looking over at Satan told the whole story. With a misevious grin, you saw him roll around the same candy while focusing on readiing again. "Satan. Is that my candy?" You knew the answer to that question.

"I have no clue what you're talking about." You could hear the laughter in his voice.

"You win this time. You earned that. Just you wait thought. I'll get you back." You hugged him and began your own scheming. You'd get him in some fun way later that evening. But for now, you planned to just enjoy snuggling with him. He might be a little shit sometimes, but he was your little shit.

[qierxing]

Double Trouble

A/N: An old drabble I had around and decided to punt out for warmup

Ace Trappola x Deuce Spade x Reader

TW/CW: Violence against reader, manipulation

—

Ace and Deuce weren't exactly friends.

And they made sure everyone around them knew it. They've never really tried to cooperate with each other more than necessary; always been more content pushing each other around and slinging insults at each other whenever they had the chance. They were no different from feuding rivals in a way. Frenemies, on a good day.

And yet, their temperament completely changes around you.

It's so small, so miniscule, that you don't realize it until Grim brings it up casually.

"They sure are soft on you, huh?” He drawls when the duo once again lets you get away with scolding them for procrastinating on their homework. 

"I've no idea what you're talking about." You shuffle the worksheets into your school bag, careful not to crease any of the fragile papers. "They know Riddle would be on their asses anyway if he knew they were slacking off."

Your companion groans. "That's not what I'm talking about, [First], and you know it, mya!" He waves his paws in that annoying little Grim way and you know you're in for another whiny temper tantrum.

"You know if even that goody two shoes Clover-senpai were to lecture him, they would just shrug it off like nothin'!" His forked tail waves wildly. "And yet, they just listen to ya and don’t do anythin' bout it!!"

"Grim, I think you're exaggerating." You don't even dignify the angry cat with a comeback when you shove a tuna sandwich in his open maw.

You should've realized Grim wasn't overreacting at all.

Yes, the duo weren't friends, but they knew how to work together for a common goal. Unfortunately, you were the one who had taught them that all those months ago in that haunted, decrepit mine.

"Whaddya mean, you can't study with us?" Ace frowns deeply as you rub your neck sheepishly. Deuce wears a similar look with his fists clenched at his side, and if you didn't know any better, it was like the two were disappointed you couldn’t study with them.

"I told you before, I promised Sebek that I would study with him." You cross your arms, "It's not a big deal. We can hang out another time anyway."

Ace's frown deepens more and he and Deuce exchange a glance you can't decipher. A cold breeze winds through the stone pillars of the hallways and you wonder if that's the reason you feel so uneasy.

“It’s not like that guy needs you to be there, right? Just ditch.” You’re left flabbergasted at Ace’s crude dismissal. You open your mouth in a hasty retort but you get cut off.

“Surely Sebek can find another study partner if he really needs to.” Your head whips in shock at Deuce’s flat agreement. He was the one trying to be an eager honors student. Why the hell was he so against two students studying together?

It would've made sense if they were up to their shenanigans again. At least then, you would know it would pass with some time, give or take. But this doesn't feel like a badly timed prank, nor a lead up into a heist that will go wrong. If anything, it feels like they're trying to enforce something on you.

"What is with you two? If you two have beef with Sebek, sort it out with him." Your bag weighs heavy on your shoulder, laden with the textbooks and notes you need for your study session. "Leave me out of whatever mess you got yourselves in."

You turn sharply towards the library, wanting so badly to put down your bag for your poor aching shoulder. There shouldn't be anything else to address, and you thought you could walk away, and everything would be fine when you returned. 

You thought.

One second you're walking and the next, you're lying on your side, bag strewn across the cobblestone floor. Ink bottles cracking and dripping ink everywhere, pens and pencils rolling away, and all your textbooks’ spines cracked open. You’re gasping for air, breath completely knocked out of your lungs, winded and sprawled on the floor.

“W-Wh–” is the only thing you can utter before you feel a presence looming over you.

“Jeez, prefect, don’t you know that you shouldn’t leave your back open?” Ace’s gloating voice hovers right above your head, and oh, how badly you just want to take his stupid mug and give him a good bash–

“We really didn’t want it to have to come to this,” Deuce’s voice following makes your entire body freeze. “But we don’t want you to get into trouble.”

Your mind runs through several swear words in a loop before you realize with horror that one of them is hauling your limp body up into their grasp. You try moving one of your limbs but only crackling pain greets you, making you suck in a deep, painful breath. A chuckle echoes to your left, and your bloodshot eyes flash to see Ace smirking his usual shit eating grin, hand twirling his magic pen. 

“Nothing personal, [First],” He cheekily responds as he notices your pained glare. Warm flesh pulses under you, and it’s with rage that you’re face to face with Deuce’s worried face next.

“We’ll undo the magic on you later, but please don’t struggle.” He has you in a bridal carry, which is already humiliating in itself, but the fact he has the audacity to tell you to calm down?

“You…won’t get away…with this…!” Every word you utter stretches your ribcage to the point where you feel like it’s cracking open, but you would be damned if you were going to stay silent.

Ace laughs, while Deuce averts his gaze.

“I think we can, [First].”

[cloutchaserkineme]

fail, girl!

5:49 p.m. Friday, on a straw mat, with peel-off lipstick on

When we were in a journalism competition, a newspaper columnist came and held a small workshop for us small budding high school students. She was one of those old-Martial Law era types, the ones who got the grit and experience necessary to survive being a journalist here in the Philippines, a dragon with callused wings swanning into a place full of ickle baby lizards with fresh bits of slick membrane still clinging to our scaly lids.

She asked who among those of us competing for the copyreading category in the room wanted to become a journalist. I was the only one who tentatively raised a hand.

She was confused, and a bit disappointed that none of these little reptiles who managed to clear the first two rounds of the competitions wanted to pursue fact-checking and editing and newswriting in totality. I thought she was just reacting as an animal bred for her field- her life was words, and she couldn't fathom anyone else trying so hard to succeed in a field they weren't going to nurture and continue in any way.

At least, that's what I thought she thought then. Now I know she was probably just confused. No other deeper meaning to it.

Like I am right now. I have not been a law student in two to three weeks, just simply going to events and covering them and interviewing clients and transcribing quotes and attempting and failing to write the articles I need to write from them.

I feel impotent and stupid and just plain useless. Those kids who didn't raise their hands... they were smart. They were onto something. They knew that this wasn't a field to pursue if you wanted to be successful in the long term. These smart kids, achievers and top ten placers in their school with their latinate appellations a soft launch for their three-to-four letter profession markers in their certificates.

They were just there because the journalism competition held a lot of points in class and school rankings, not because asking people and getting answers and writing those down and spreading them out was fun and nice to do. They were smart, playing the game like that. I just played with whatever they gave me and never thought to do anything that required higher thinking skills with it.

They gave me a pencil, then a pen, pointed me to people and events and ideas- and I wrote. I didn't think anything beyond that.

Now I type, heavily and with such excess. I don't like what I type, and I think I hate typing...even writing this update is very tiring for me. I don't like it anymore. I don't like the updates getting from my bosses and coworkers, I don't like being jealous and envious of my coworkers having their ducks in their row and effortlessly slaying this industry I thought I was a good fit for. I don't like working for people who use money to do fucking shit in my place, I don't like platforming [type of company redacted for anonymity purposes] on our articles, and I fucking hate talking to people in a large crowd.

A few days ago I met a journalist who never asked questions (fully online desk reporter, though she worked in local print media like I did) and was more anxious than me and I felt a kinship with her and she was nice. Until I saw a friend of mine during the same event, and she congratulated me for getting into law school, and that my cousin from my father's side who failed the bar exam thrice but was married to an attorney he met in law school was surprised that I was still there and why I haven't quit the silly little news writing thing I was doing. And this journalist congratulated me for doing such a good job. I felt like a fraud, like I have inadvertently put her under the same illusion I somehow cast over everyone else- the spell of "oooh look at her she is a competent person who has her ducks in a row".

She has expectations of me that I don't know how to meet!

And I was stressed but I wasn't as stressed as my friends who were also working in offices with solid hours and good career prospects and great work-life-school balance and they had three midterm exams back-to-back.

You know what I did with those same hours? Nothing. Just daydreaming and sleeping thinking about fictional characters being loved and nothing else and I have put off so much. The gig I took, the articles I am three to four days late in passing, the fucking law school!

Killing myself isn't even going to cut it anymore, the phrase has been slicing over so many thoughts in my head for nine months now that the edge of it has dulled and it can't pierce through the brain fog right now.

I want to have my cake and eat it too, like the greedy Jupiter-Venus person that I am (but the Mercury-ruled detriment of both these planets is literally knowing that this isn't practical or realistic or rooted in explainable and measurable actions). So yeah... we go fucking on? I don't know. I don't have much faith in myself any more.

Do I learn how to say no? Or how to stop saying yes?

(30) 6:34 p.m.

[phireflies]

𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗲

eddie gives you drawing ideas when you're experiencing art block. [wc; 2.3k]

pairing; eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings; swearing and fluff, i think that's literally it (written on my phone so mistakes too)

a/n; is this completely self-indulgent... maybe... i will edit this when i wake up i swear

"i'm at a loss, eds," you say, throwing yourself onto his bed, arms and legs splayed out.

"why's that?" he was fiddling with the strings on his guitar, not looking up at you.

you sigh. "my sketchbook is like, empty and i have to turn it in by friday."

"that's in two days," he states.

"wow really? i didn't know that."

"teasing." he laughs, putting his guitar down, finally looking at you. "all outta ideas?" you nod. "draw me."

when you sit up, your face is so close to his, noses almost touching. "i can't draw you, i'll mess it up."

"then it'll be abstract. c'mon, i'll sit like a statue, i promise!”

you laugh so hard you throw your head back. the thought of eddie munson sitting still, like a statue no less, was wild. he couldn't stop fidgeting as if his life depended on it.

looking over at him, you noticed that he would make a good subject. his hands were really nice after all, the rings the cherry on top. you loved his eyes too, and his hair, and his nose. everything about him.

"okay," you say, smiling. he leans in so your nose touches his, and smiles. "i can draw you."

"fuck yeah, babe! can you do it with a colored pencil? you have those right?"

you nod. "i only have red and blue though."

"red, red's my favorite color."

you nod again, confirming the color. eddie had taken you home, to his home, after school like always, so you had all of your art supplies with you. it wasn't much, a few hb pencils, pens, and two colored pencils.

inside, eddie was freaking out. he loved your art, and would shower you with compliments and kisses when you showed him a new piece, throwing in a few can you draw hellfire posters? too.

he'd never thought to ask for a portrait before. maybe it was because some part of him, something very deep down inside him, thought it would be scary to see someone else's interpretation of him. he was excited nevertheless.

you pulled out your sketchbook with almost twenty-five percent of it filled and sighed, letting your fingers roam around the cover - feeling the divots of when you pushed your pencil too hard in to make a mark, meaningless doodles, and words.

"you can go back to doing whatever, i can go from there."

eddie kissed your temple and leaned back to get his guitar. he started messing with the strings again as if they weren't perfect the first time around.

you looked around eddies room, which had somewhat become your room. wayne suggested you move in, to help keep it clean. eddie even made a stack of your clothes on his floor.

"what's the theme of this one? they all got themes, right?" he asked, half distracted.

"uh, not sure. think it's something like family or your idea of home."

eddie smiled to himself. "yeah? you're okay with putting me with that theme?"

you started sketching out his room, the perspective a little wonky but it would turn out fine. "'course eds, not to be all cheesy but you're kinda my idea of home." you are my home, you want to say.

"that's awfully sweet of you." he teases again, but neither of you can deny the blush creeping onto his face. it starts at the tip of his ears. "just so happens that you're my idea of home too. i mean, you put your shoes next to mine!" he repeats what you said, but leaves out the kinda.

you laugh hard again, but don't reply. you relish at this moment, of eddie doing whatever he does, back towards you, but still touching you, and you doing what you love, of who you love.

your focus is turned back onto the page as you start to slowly add in blocks, mapping out the clothes on his floor, the posters, and little trinkets. crosshatching is used to add depth and shadows and make it all look a little better, more real.

when it's finished, you write home at the top right and sign your name under. "look, eds."

"you're a modern da vinci, babe." he pretends to not see the title at the top but smiles like an idiot to himself when he turns away.

you move on to the next page. anatomy. it was never something that you were particularly good at, everything looking a little off.

eddie's backside turns out to be a great reference. you start out with the outline of his back and his hair, then you slowly add details in, carving them in. you don't offer to show him this one.

next, you draw the guitar, where it hangs in front of the mirror. eddie moved on to messing with his amp. you draw the pick on his nightstand, and the box of cigarettes, though you don't draw the label. it's just a box on paper, but you know it's more.

"s'it working?" he asks. you've gotten caught up in your drawing that you didn't realize he sat right next to you again.

you hum, nodding. "i'm tired already."

it was pretty late, and you were pretty tired. "m'tired too. you sure this burst of inspiration won't disappear by tomorrow?"

"nope, because you'll still be here, i hope."

he smiles wide again. idiot, you think. my idiot. "always gonna be here."

with that, eddie helps you get situated to sleep, and you're out.

when the birds outside wake you up, you're excited to draw, your hands itching. you're excited because you get to draw eddie. the entire day was going to be focused on drawing him, his features and his hands and his tattoos, everything that makes him eddie.

because of how the trailer is set, the sun shines bright through his window, perfectly highlighting eddie. the sheets have slid down to his lower back, so you can see the curves of his back and the few light freckles on his shoulders.

it’s perfect, he’s perfect. you have to draw him.

moving as slowly as you can, you reach down to grab your sketchbook off the floor, along with a colored pencil. you mark down the general shape of him, and then work on his face - half in the pillow with furrowed eyebrows and pouted lips. you wonder what he was dreaming about.

you make sure to get the way his hair falls into his eyes and over his shoulder, a few distinct curls on his cheek.

“freak.” he mutters, opening his eyes a smidge.

“you asked for this.”

he huffs, slowly getting up with a groan. “guess i did. can i see?”

you shake your head and move the sketchbook away. “not yet, when i get it back. monday.” you say, promising.

“monday.” he agrees. “d’you want eggs? think that’s all we got.”

you nod. “eggs sound perfect, eds.” smiling, you think back on all of the other times eddie made eggs and how he dumped salt on them.

he stands up to find a shirt and pants, but not before he presses a kiss to your temple and each cheek.

you follow him into the kitchen, still clutching the sketchbook. wayne’s sitting in his chair, sipping a coffee. it was rare to see him so early.

“hi wayne.” you say, to which he turns back and waves.

“you know she’s an artist right?” eddie says, cracking four eggs into a hot pan. they sizzle.

wayne laughs. “‘course i do, you show me everything she’s ever given you.”

your face heats up at the new knowledge. “you do?”

eddie looks sheepish, like you weren’t supposed to know. he shrugs, a red blush painting his face. “i mean, yeah, sometimes.”

“all the time!” wayne corrects with a loud laugh.

eddie scowls playfully and returns to his cooking. attempt at cooking.

while eddie begins to plate the eggs, wayne departs, reminding you to show him more art. wayne was your second biggest fan, after eddie of course.

eddie, thankfully, learned how much salt is too much, so the eggs were edible. “wish we had bacon or something.” he says with his mouth full of food. you’d scold him for that, but you were too enamored with the sight before you.

his hair was a mess, his eyes were still droopy and half-lidded, and he was smiling at you once he swallowed his food. his smile. you wanted it burned into your memory forever.

“this is good.” you manage.

“you’re staring.” he states, smiling even wider.

you scoff, trying to play it off. “i do not stare!”

eddie’s finished with his eggs, so he gets up to clean his plate. he kissed your head as he passes you. “i stare at you too. in a completely normal way, though.”

“that was a normal way!” you join him in cleaning your plate.

the rest of the morning continues like it always does, brushing your teeth together, and getting dressed together, and leaving together.

the rest of the day, however, doesn’t go like you hope it does. you don’t see eddie for much of it, and all you want to do is draw him. it’s a funny feeling, not wanting to do anything but draw and draw and draw. maybe it was something eddie-specific.

before you knew it, you were walking into the drama room to watch eddie’s dungeons and dragons campaign.

the boys all lit up at the sight of you, waving and greeting you, then getting back into setting up.

“babe! how’d the drawing thing go today?” he asked, pulling you aside.

you shrugged. “didn’t do much, didn’t see you much.” he frowns. “i can do more tonight though!”

“you’ll show me?”

you smile, shrugging. “can’t make any promises.”

“god, you’re awful.”

eddie laughs loudly before running to begin the campaign. you have a seat near the table, where you can see the party to either side and eddie in the middle. the glow of the florescent light make it look like he’s got a halo around his head.

as the group progresses in the campaign and gets more rowdy, you decide to draw it. a little sketch, nothing too detailed. you’ve adopted the younger kids, so they fit in with the theme. found family, you think.

eddie’s in the middle with his arms out, and everyone else is at the sides, smiling wide with unique expressions on their faces.

you’ve still got a good chunk of sketchbook left, so you draw the party’s characters. it’s a little unclear what the exact vision was for all of them, but you do the best you can. you end up with numerous half-rendered pieces of their dungeons and dragons characters with the respective player labeled at the top.

by the time you’re done, they’ve finished the session and are cleaning up.

“was that a good one?” you ask when eddie’s done.

he puts a hand on your waist and leads you out to his van. he nods. “one of the best. think you’re my lucky charm, babe.”

“that’s cheesy.”

he pauses, thinking. “you’re right, but wasn’t that sweet? i just came up with that!”

you laugh and push his shoulder. “i could tell.”

“you’re evil.” he smiles, no real harm behind his words. “what’d you draw?“

eddie starts his van and begins to drive out of the school lot. “just you and the party, their characters, stuff like that.”

“y’know, they’d love to see that stuff.”

you nod. “i’ll tear out the pages when it’s all graded. they can keep it if they deem it worthy of their vision.”

eddie snorts. “they love you, of course they’d love it!”

you want to disagree, but eddie turns up his music so you can’t. you glare at him, but it eventually fades into an endearing smile.

once you’re at his trailer again, you’re quick to pick up where you left off - sketching his hands doing whatever he’s doing, in this case, smoking.

you draw his hand with a cigarette between his first and second finger, lightly sketching a line to make a string of smoke. you make sure to get his rings. you continue onto his arm, where he’s rolled up the sleeve. his tattoos are visible, so you draw them too. accuracy is not a concern, as you already know you’ve got them down perfectly. you know him like the back of your hand.

“think you’ll finish by tomorrow?”

you nod, drawing his side profile. “sure i will, i’ve got enough you to last a lifetime.”

“god.” he sighs, smiling to himself.

the page is full, so you turn to the next and focus on his eyes. what they look like when he smiles, the wrinkles in the corners, eyelashes kissing. what they look like when he’s happy and full of fondness. what they look like closed.

“you’re gonna get frostbite.” he says, pulling you you up and into the trailer.

“it’s seventy degrees.”

“it happens, heat frostbite.”

you give him a look, raising your eyebrows. “so… heatstroke?”

“maybe.”

the rest of the night is filled with laughter and funny looks as you try to get eddie’s not-so-patient expression down on the page. you’d have to see the real thing though, a pencil can only do so much.

the remaining pages of your sketchbook are filled with his hands. floating hands cut off at the wrist, just doing random things - holding a pick, practicing guitar, attempting homework, hold your hand. that was the hardest, trying to hold his and draw with the other.

“fucking finally.” you swear, wiping your forehead. “finally finished.”

“proud of you. all of little ole me too.” he smiles smugly, poking your side. “you’re gonna get the best grade on that goddamn sketchbook.”

you laugh, looking at him. admiring him. “i think i did well. you’re my muse now.”

eddie laughs loudly, trying to hide the growing blush on his face. to be someone’s muse was an honor, to be your muse.

you were eddie’s muse, numerous corroded coffin songs being written about you or with you in mind. two different artists, but you were all the same.

[aquato-family-circus]

More Cassie hcs because we always need more Cassie:

-She chews on pens/pencils when she's thinking about a story. This has resulted in many problems.

-She loves to learn new languages! She's one of the few people who can hold a conversation with Lucy in Grulovian.

-She wants to learn how to sew/knit/crochet, but she can't figure it out from just reading books, so it's hard for her.

-She loves bad puns. In every language. She usually has a "pun of the day" but somedays, she's still trying to find a new one. Compton gets her a "bad puns" calendar and she tells him the ones from it every time she sees him.

-She writes a lot of short fiction stories, but she's never shown them to anyone. Only Compton and Lucy know that they even exist.

-She doesn't keep up on fashion or trends thanks to never having the time to, but she likes the "dark/light academia" trends! She'd wear that sort of thing, but not nearby many others, because she's not sure how the others would react.

-Cassie used to paint with Helmut. He did abstract stuff, she did landscapes or scenes.

-Cassie and Otto weren't that close, but they did do wordplay contests at times. Like, back and forth and back and forth until one of them can't come up with a good punny retort.

-Cassie and Bob agreed about the environment stuff and not liking the hydro-mining thing.

-Imagine Cassie leaving the most incredible reviews on books online. Just. She leaves paragraph upon paragraph of thoughts, rates it fairly, and just enjoys getting to write again.

-OR: Her having like, a list of people she sends new book recs to whenever she can. Like, she asks about their tastes, then she'll send them 5 books she thinks they'd like.

Oh these are excellent, in this house we love Cassie O'Pia

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

Was anyone else just like...really weird about things that weren't yours ending up with your things?

Like...ok for example, in elementary school we would earn gold slips as a reward and we could use them to buy certain privileges for a week or a day or whatever

And I dont remember what grade but we had a "class pet" that was a stuffed rabbit and we could pay to bring it home with us for a week. And as a kid who really fucking loved stuffed animals (my bed was completely covered in them) I decided I would save up for that

Well I got it home and immediately hid it under my bed cuz It Did Not Belong. I wanted nothing to do with it. It lived under my bed the entire week so I would not have to look at it. The idea of having it touch any of my other stuffed animals gave me anxiety. And I was so fuckin relieved when it was time to take it back.

This never happened with new stuffed animals that I got at the store or as a gift. In fact new stuffed animals always got an honorary spot next to my pillow at night for at least a week after I got them. But if it was not MINE then it did not get to mix with my things.

I always gave people their pencils or pens back when I borrowed them cuz the idea of putting it in my pencil case made me nauseous. Even if they told me I could just keep it. Which made it really hard to understand how people could steal my pencils.

[obeyme-life]

HC: The Brothers With A Little Spitfire! (Part 1)

(Fem!Reader)

For @imapersonwhohasnothingbettertodo

Lucifer:

At first he'd find it annoying—your temper often often led to arguments with teachers or other trouble, so it did add to his paperwork.

He found himself smirking as he read the reports though. You were blunt but... You weren't necessarily wrong. It was kind of endearing.

He'd find himself discussing you with Lord Diavolo more often than just in your exchange program reports. He'd pace the room as he complained about your attitude, Diavolo sitting at his desk in silence watching Lucifer go back and forth. But he was smiling as he described your quirks.

"She's worse than the chihuahua! She's a chihuahua that barks! Bites, even!" He scoffed one time, referring to your small stature. Diavolo was used to you being the topic by now. With a sigh he sat down his pen and crossed his arms, a smile playing on his lips. "Bites? So what? You're into that sort of thing. Or did you think I'd forgotten?" Lucifer was blushing. He'd hit the nail on the head.

After Lord Diavolo made him aware of his feelings, he'd find himself intentionally riling you up sometimes. He was used to strict obedience... The way you snapped back was refreshing.

In his office one day you'd had enough of him pushing your limits, grabbing him by the tie and yanking him close, your cheeks a dead give away for your attraction—even if your smartass remarks hid it fairly well.

Lucifer's smug grin was unforgettable—but not as unforgettable as what came next.

"Finally." He sighed, sounding amused at your irritation. Then he leaned down and captured your lips.

"You're all mine, MC. Don't ever change but... Perhaps curb your fire enough that only I get to share these moments with you?"

Mammon:

Mammon got off to a rough start with you. You were always so angry and he was always so annoying.

At first it was a quick smack to his hand if he tried to grab your pencil or a few pieces of your popcorn during a movie. "Jeez MC, I'm the Avatar of Greed and you're worse at sharing than I am!" He'd tease, secretly looking for your attention. Even if you were chastising him, you were still focused on just him.

He'd do things to get you steaming mad, like leaning on you and calling you "Shorty".

"I'm short amongst my brothers and you're still tiny compared to me!"

The brothers could see all the signs, maybe even before you and Mammon. The red cheeks, the stuttering, the excuses to touch each other even if you were shoving or batting away a hand.

The explosive conclusion to your 'just friends' status came after a particularly bad fight. You'd found him snooping in your room for something to sell. You were sure everyone in the House of Lamentation could hear you yelling at each other. You shoved him hard, making him stumble back onto the bed—except he'd grabbed the nearest thing for support, which happened to be you.

As you fell onto the second oldest there was a heated pause as you both reddened in embarrassment and closeness. Mammon moved first, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face into the top of your head. "I'm sorry MC... Could ya forgive the great Mammon?"

"Wh-Whatever, stupid! Just... Don't let go, okay? Or I'll really be mad!"

Levi:

Part of Levi was put off by your confrontational nature... But you were so small and cute! He was observing you one day when he accidentally mumbled his thoughts out loud. "... Chibi... She's like a chibi..."

Although you yelled at him for the comment, he found himself blushing—because you were too. He'd been looking at you, and you both knew it.

He was careful to keep his comments to himself from then on, but the more he watched you the harder he fell. You were like an anime character, how could he not!?

It became too much one day as you sat together playing games. You had toooootal gamer rage lololol! "M-MC... I've been meaning to say this for awhile b-but..." His eyes never left the screen—avoiding eye contact. "You're so small and like, totally tsundere, and I-I really like that about you..."

He'd already lost the level from all his fumbling so now he sat down his controller to ramble more. "I-I know I'm a t-t-totally gross nerd and whatever but I w-was wondering if you'd like to go on a... Y'know... Date...? With... Me?"

You tossed your controller aside and rolled your eyes. "I'll do one better than that. I'll be your cute normie girlfriend—now shut up and kiss me so we can finish this level!"

I HAVE TO DO THIS IN TWO PARTS, IT'S GETTING TOO LONG AND I'M ON MY PHONE—

Also sorry about how my headcanons always turn into like small fanfics???

[goddessofthundathighs]

VII: WAITING

Suggested Listenings/Songs Mentioned: Overstimulated x Jhené Aiko; Loaded Gun x 6LACK; New Apartment x Ari Lennox

A/N: Instead of writing a separate chapter, the prompt that you picked is in this one @heybriheyyy!

The sound of heels clicking against the black and gold marble floors of the hallway alerted Erik of Skylar’s arrival. The pair had agreed to meet in his office for lunch to discuss his date with O’Shea and other methods of therapy he could implement going forward. For this to be merely a meeting among friends, she was dressed to kill sporting an ivory turtleneck sweater and black pinstripe pencil skirt that hugged her physique in all the right places. On her feet were a pair of black Priyadora Louboutin open-toe sandals and her signature gold wire-rimmed glasses held their usual place atop her head.

She walked in and shut the door behind her, a silent cue for Harper to cancel his appointments for at least the next hour.

“First of all, you’re an ass for leaving her the way you did. I understand that you were upset at her for laughing, but you could’ve handled that so much better.” Erik dropped his head. Though he rectified the situation, he knew that there was no way he would be able to escape Sky’s wrath about how he reacted to his phallus getting caught in Shea’s braces.

“I fixed it!” he declared, throwing his hands up in the air in defeat.

“Oh I know. Disney, huh?” Her lips were twisted into a knowing smirk, much to Erik’s disdain.

“It’s not what you think,” he lied unsuccessfully.

“Oh it’s exactly what I think, Stevens. You’re falling for her.”

“I am not.”

“Then what do you call it?” He paused for a moment, avoiding her face at all cost. He was reluctant to speak because it was a question he had been asking himself ever since he dropped O’Shea off at home the previous Friday. Sky must’ve sensed his dilemma because her demeanor softened as she took a seat in the chair across from him.

“Ok, let’s try this approach: why are you so drawn to her? Is it personal or purely experimental?”

“Is it selfish to say both?”

“Not entirely. Elaborate.”

“I can say that I like her, but it’s the way that I like her and the reasons why that is a mystery at the moment. On a personal level, she’s incredibly smart and beautiful. She challenges me much like you do and I genuinely like being in her company. On a professional level, I’m curious to how each of her personalities react in a true relationship setting. I could use that information to possibly determine why her past relationships failed and ensure that it doesn’t happen again.”

Skylar listened intently as Erik explained before giving her insight to the situation.

“That may be well and good but the fact still remains that she is a patient and a colleague of mine. Are you prepared to completely cross that line or do you want to solely as a means of furthering your research?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer as she continued her lecture. “Furthermore, if you choose the latter, are you prepared to handle the possible blowback? As free as you are with your methods there is still the review board to report to and they will ensure that every step you take is well documented down to the flavor of lube.. and ETHICAL. Tread very softly. I don't wanna see you lose your license over some emotional bullshit that could easily be straightened out.”

“That’s actually the part that scares me the most. I need to figure something out and fast.” Skylar agreed before grabbing her bag.

“Well let me know what you come up with,” she replied as she began making her way out of the office, leaving Erik with his wayward thoughts. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through the text thread between he and O’Shea, chuckling to himself at their playful banter.

“What are you doing to me, Ms. Powell?” he spoke aloud with a sly smile, completely oblivious to the woman that now occupied his office.

“Dr. Stevens?” the young woman spoke, her soft voice causing him to lift his head. She sported a black biker jacket with blue jeans and timberland boots, her hair a curly mess atop her head.

“Yes, how may I help you?” he asked as he sat back in his chair.

“My name is Oya Ramirez. We spoke on the phone briefly the other day.”

“Oh yes, Ms. Ramirez, please have a seat.” Though her smile was bright, her eyes held pain. He could tell that life hadn’t exactly been good to her, but she was trying to make the best out of a bad situation.

“What brings you by, Ms. Ramirez?” he inquired as he sat up straight and grabbed a pen.

“Well, as of late, I've been having trouble achieving orgasms. I know what I like and I know all of the things necessary to get me to that point, but nothing seems to be working. I’ve scared off all of my usual partners because they say that my sex drive is too high and it’s unattractive, which I find absolutely ridiculous.” He looked up with one eyebrow raised, staring at her as though he’d seen a ghost. Everything she said was exactly what O’Shea had told him on their first meeting and he was starting to wonder if he were being Punk’d.

“I read this article in a psychology magazine about how you help women with that sort of thing and I was wondering if you could help me.” Erik couldn’t tell if it was fate or if God had a twisted sense of humor, but this was exactly the sort of thing he needed. He could use the treatment methods he used on O’Shea as a placebo to see if they would truly be practical enough to incorporate into his usual routine. Maybe leveling the playing field would also help him gain clarity of the O’Shea situation.

“Alright Ms. Ramirez, what are your kinks?” As she rattled off the list, he learned that she was a bratty lesbian looking for a dom to tame her.

“Well Ms. Ramirez, my schedule is pretty full at the moment, however, here’s my business partner’s card. She’ll be more than happy to assist you with your needs.”

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

“A business trip? For how long?” O’Shea pouted from her seat across from his desk.

“It’s only going to be a week, but in that week I want us to not contact one another. Instead, I want you to try and implement other methods to destress.”

“Did I do something? Was it something I said?” Buttercup begged in a tone so pitiful it almost made Erik cancel the whole trip and cradle her in his arms like the baby she was. He could see Sky in the back of his mind shaking her head and he could hear her saying, "Unhealthy attachment. Transference." And this is exactly why I need to go. We both need clarity.

“I’m not abandoning you, Princess. Trust me, this time next week we’ll be back to our regularly scheduled program and I’ll even have new things for us to try.”

O'Shea blinked at the thought of something new and interesting brought in specifically for her, curiosity softening the blow of temporary abandonment. Afterall, it was only a week and she'd gone longer without attention. She could probably do it again.

The thought crossed her mind to call up Cameron or Michael, past contacts she'd usually turn to in moments when she needed something quick. Neither Bennie, Buttercup, or Bianca would be satisfied, but at least O'Shea would be getting something. However, just as soon as the thought came, it left again. They just weren't worth it, besides there was something sexy and a little charming about waiting. Maybe distance would make their hearts grow fonder.

“Okay, I guess I can deal with that. Just don’t be tryna replace me while you’re gone,” she fake pouted.

“Someone sounds possessive,” he teased as he lead her out of his office, his hands by his side as to not complicate things further. She merely smiled, and continued out to her car, trying hard not to let the bratty beast within her loose before their little experiment had even began.

“Not possessive, just confident. There’s only one O’Shea Powell, Dr. Stevens. Have a safe trip.”

With that, she slid into the driver’s seat of her Benz and drove off into the sunset, leaving Erik yearning to be in her presence once again.

Crushing the line // cutting the line // crossing the line// Bumps in the night // Got me over here overstimulated // Crushing the line // cutting the line // crossing the line // Bumps in the night // Got me, got me over here, over

The first day without Erik was quiet. O’Shea went to work and back home and curled up with a book to ease her mind, her Something Chill playlist playing softly in the background. Though she didn’t want to believe that it was her fault that Erik had left, that’s where her mind kept drifting. She tried to convince herself that their interactions were nothing more than patient/client, she couldn’t ignore the obvious. Regardless of what was going on, no one would willingly purchase a Pandora bracelet or any other token of affection if there weren’t some feelings involved. Could it be that he too felt what she was feeling and was distancing himself to put those feelings into clarity? If so, then why wouldn’t they just talk things out like adults? Separation only gives way to doubt and doubt ruins everything. O’Shea sighed and closed her book. This week was about to be a long one.

“Ade due Damballa, give me the power I beg of you! Leveau mercier du bois chaloitte. Seciose entinne mais pois de morte. Morteisma--”

“Girl, what the hell are you doing?” O’Shea stopped mid-chant and opened one eye to find Skylar standing over her, one eyebrow raised in suspicion.

“I was tryna bring my nigga back, damn,” O’Shea pouted, placing the Pandora bracelet back on her wrist. Skylar doubled over in laughter at the meek woman before her. Erik had only been gone 2 days and she was already acting crazy.

“First of all, stop it, you look stupid. That only works for the transference of spirits and you need the actual Heart of Damballa in order for it to work.”

“I keep forgetting you a wholeass Creole voodoo priestess in your spare time,” O’Shea remarked, pulling out her sketchbook to draw more prototypes.

“And you’re acting like a lovesick puppy.”

“I don’t know what it is, Sky. Like aside from the bomb ass head, I actually miss our conversations. He listened to me, made me laugh. Hell he was the first man in a while that actually cared about how my day was going and how I was feeling throughout the day. I know that’s his job as a therapist and all, but something about it seemed different.”

“Do you think you’re possibly starting to grow feelings for him?”

“Absolutely not!” Shea lied. In actuality, it was a thought she’d mulled over several times since their Disney adventure.

“Why do y’all insist on lying to me? Tell me what’s going on with you,” Sky said, pulling up a chair beside her. O’Shea sighed heavily, not really wanting to expose her true feelings, but Skylar wasn’t just anyone. She was a confidant and also a neutral source. If anyone could help Shea sort through her emotions, it would be her.

“I honestly don’t know how to explain it. Like on one hand, he’s strictly my therapist. Someone more than qualified to help me address my current issues and find and adequate solution. On the other hand, he’s Erik. An incredibly smart and equally handsome man that has put me in my place more times in the last few months than I can remember. I haven’t even laid eyes on the dick yet and I’m already acting like a prized poodle in the Westminster Kennel Club. When he says jump, I want to ask how high and that scares me. Instead of being turned off or annoyed by my little personalities, he embraces and nurtures them in a healthy way and I’m having a hard time distinguishing whether he’s this way because he genuinely wants to be or because, as a doctor, he has to be.” Skylar nodded, absorbing everything that O’Shea had to say before adding her two cents.

“So, I’ll ask again, are you growing feelings him? Before you answer, think about this: if you are growing feelings, are you capable of continuing a professional relationship with him if those feelings aren’t reciprocated?” O’Shea hadn’t thought about the fact that Erik may not feel the same and hearing it now had her stomach in knots. Skylar sensed her dilemma and continued her speech.

“Now I’m not asking this to scare you or to send you off the deep end with your emotions, but I’m being realistic. I honestly think you two need time apart so you both can get clarity of the situation as well as come to terms with whatever y’all are both feeling towards one another.

“He’s going to Wakanda for a week. He suggested that we not call or text one another the entire trip, something about finding other methods to destress.” Leave it to Erik to already be three steps ahead.

“Good. While he’s gone, I have a yoga class I think you’ll be interested in and we can go together.”

“Eww, I hate yoga,” Shea complained.

“You’ll enjoy this, trust me.”

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

The sunset in Wakanda was always the most beautiful part of visiting his aunt and cousins. It had been a few years since he’d visited the advanced nation and each time, something new caught his attention. This time, it was the customizations she had made to T’Challa’s Black Panther suit that caught his eye. She had added a stealth mode, meaning he could go invisible if needed be when he was in battle. His younger cousin never ceased to amaze him with her genius nature. One he’d gotten his belongings put away, he set out to find his aunt Ramonda. She was his second mother and if anyone could help him gain clarity of his current predicament, it was her. He found her seated in the floating tea room that overlooked the lush garden at the center of the palace. It was her one of her favorite places in the palace. She always came here when she wanted to get away and clear her head. She was adorned in a white Wakandan lace robe with a matching headdress.

“Auntie, can I talk to you about something?” She beamed, giving him a knowing smile before beckoning him to sit down beside her. She took his hand into her own and squeezed it gently, letting him know that he could speak freely.

“Tell me about her,” was all she said, noting the troubled look in his eyes.

“Who said a girl was involved?” She stared up at him incredulously before chuckling.

“You ask that as though I do not know you, N’Jadaka. You’ve checked your phone every 10 minutes since you got here and I can always read the trouble behind your eyes. Now, tell me about her.” He sighed, hating that he could never hide anything from his aunt.

“It’s one of my clients, I think I’m falling for her.” Ramonda chuckled softly to herself as she studied Erik. She could tell that the topic was a difficult one for him, noting the way he tugged nervously at a lone dreadlock that hung loosely in his face.

“Didn’t you say that you’d never get involved with one of your patients because it’s messy and unprofessional? What changed your mind?”

“I don't know Auntie. There’s something different about this girl. She intrigues me on a level that no other woman has before. She’s witty, and the culmination of her different personalities create a very interesting and sharp young lady," he smiled recounting the times her mouth had been quicker than he could anticipate.

"The man is asked to explain his attraction and he talks about multiple personalities," Shuri tsks making her presence known.

“Obviously I am needed! N'Jadaka!" Her hand clapped hard onto his back as she stood between him and the queen gazing out into the garden ahead.

"Figure out if she is an experiment, a patient, or a lover, but don’t use her to fill your emotional gaps. You’re a jerk if you do,” Shuri scolded before heading back towards her laboratory. "Thank me later," she called as she disappeared from sight. Erik stared after her for a beat before turning back to his aunt to squeezed his hand once more.

“She may be young, but she is wise beyond her years and she knows what she’s talking about. I can give you all of the advice in the world, but at the end of the day, it’s your decision to make. Lord knows we don’t want another Lynda situation,” the Queen concluded as she stood.

She stepped to the side and followed Shuri's path to the exit leaving Erik to gaze solemnly out over the garden and into the grand horizon. He thought back to his relationship with Lynda and how it ended, concluding with himself that O’Shea definitely wasn’t a Lynda. She was an enigma, but a goddess in her own right. She deserved someone that could give her his whole heart and love her as hard as he knew she loved. She deserved to be catered to and spoiled, but also disciplined whenever she stepped out of line; she was a submissive after all. She deserved a lover and a provider and he wasn’t sure that he could be all of those things for her, but he was more than willing to try.

“Dammit. I think I’m in love.” He whipped out his phone and called Skylar, remembering some things he forgot to tell her before he left.

“Wassup lover boy? Miss me already?”

“I always miss you, Nola,” he smirked, hearing her soft gasp at the nickname he hadn’t used since college.

“Real funny, Stevens. To what pleasure do I owe this phone call?”

“I know you don’t really do therapy, but I referred you to someone, Oya Ramirez. She suffers from the same symptoms as our bipolar beauty minus the other personalities and I figured she’d be a good experiment for you. She should be stopping by some time this week.”

“Oya Ramirez,” Skylar repeated, jotting the name down in her notebook for reference. “Got it. Anything else?”

“Nah, that’s it. I’ll be back in a few days. How my girl?”

“Oh, now she’s your girl?”

“You know what I mean. She doing ok?”

“She’s pretty good. We’ve got a yoga date tomorrow.”

“Yoga? She hates yoga.”

“There’s weed involved.”

“Ah,” he states with a nod. “I knew there had to be a catch, but yoga’s good. Good way to get her mind off things.”

“I’m well aware, Dr. Stevens. I’ll keep you posted on her progress.”

“Thanks, Nola. I owe you one.”

“You’re eternally indebted to me, Stevens. I thought we had this discussion already.”

“You right. I’ll make sure I bring you back something dope. Peace.” Erik ended the call and returned to his suite in the palace. It was a room he’d tried and failed to duplicate in his condo back in LA. The color scheme was black, white, and gold with a huge Alaskan king bed trimmed in black and gold in the center of the room. The walls were decorated with paintings of African and Egyptian royalty, including Queen Nefertiti and Anubis from Egyptian mythology. A large floor length mirror hung on the back of his bedroom door and his closet was its own ensuite. The floor was black and gold heated marble, the inspiration to the floor in his office and the ceiling changed to mimic the sky outside, no matter the time of day. He undressed and slipped under the covers, trying and failing to keep his mind from drifting to the current object of his affection as 6LACK‘s mellow voice filled the room.

I got women callin’ my phone like I owe them some’ // It’s kinda my fault // I guess I showed them some’ // No shit, I treat my dick just like a loaded gun // Point that shit away // These hoes gon’ blow what comes

He shook his head, smiling softly at the image of her little pout and the way her eyes lit up when he surprised her with the Pandora bracelet. He would give anything to see her smile the way she smiled that night again. The slight dip of the bed caused Erik to raise his head, only to drop it back against the pillow one he realized who the intruder was.

“I missed you too, Massika,” he murmured as the jaguar made her way up the bed and to her usual spot beside him. She purred softly, rubbing her nose against his face before settling down beside him. She had been his baby ever since he’d rescued her from poachers the last time he visited. Everywhere he went, Massika followed and he made a mental note to introduce her to O’Shea once they were official.

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

Today felt different. The sunlight crept through the large bow window, casting an ethereal glow throughout the bedroom. O’Shea woke roughly 20 minutes before her alarm, something that typically only happened when she was stressed. She stretched and said her morning affirmations before finally slipping out of bed, a small smile creeping across her face.

“Hey Alexa, play Something Chill.” As the device came to life, O’Shea retired to her bathroom and allowed Ari Lennox’s smooth voice to help her get ready for the day.

Pop my woo-hah in the sky // ‘Cause nobody here to judge my life // Leave the dishes in the sink // Do some cartwheels // “Cause my furniture ain’t came // Standard shipping thing // I just got a new apartment // I’m gon’ leave the floor wet // Walk around this bitch naked // And nobody can tell me shit

Since she was awake early, she decided to indulge in a relaxing bath with her newest bath bomb from Lush, called Royalty. The floral scent of the bomb permeated the bathroom before being replaced by a hint of vanilla and sandalwood. She watched as the water turned from a warm golden to soft red and green before slipping into the water. She loved how soft the soy milk powder left her skin, smoother than a baby’s ass fresh from its mother’s womb. After a 30-minute soak, she retired from her bath to get dressed, choosing to slick her curls up into a high puff while sporting a white, floral mini dress and a jean jacket. She felt good, a genuine smile crossed her face as she glanced down at the Pandora bracelet that rested in the center of her jewelry box for the past 3 days. She’d chosen not to wear it, fearing that she would be plagued with thoughts of Erik and be tempted to call or text him. Thanks to Skylar, the week had gone by a lot faster than she’d expected and he was due back home within the next few hours. A quick swipe of her Fenty gloss bomb and she was out the door, a newfound pep in her step.

The jingle of the shop’s bell pulled Shea from her sketchbook. She looked up to find a short, light-skinned woman coming over to the counter. Her hair was braided into cornrows and she wore a white cropped hoodie, blue jean shorts, and white Fila tennis shoes.

“Hello. My name is Oya Ramirez. I was sent here by Dr. Erik Stevens. He told me to ask for Skylar.” O’Shea regarded the young woman for a bit before walking to the back to get Sky.

“Oh Ms. Ramirez, Dr. Stevens told me you’d be stopping by. Follow me this way.” Oya complied, walking with Sky to the back of the store. O’Shea smirked, watching the way Skylar’s eyes followed every move Oya made until they had disappeared somewhere among the tall shelves. Once they were gone, O’Shea turned her attention back to her sketchbook. Since the dildo generator had been approved, Sky had tasked O’Shea with designing preset models that could be customized for potential clients that didn’t want to design their own tool from scratch. Just as she was getting back into her groove, the bell jingled again.

“Hello, welcome to —”

The cocoa skinned woman held up her hand to silence Shea.

“I’m Monica, where’s Skylar?” Almost on cue, Sky emerged from the back of the store with Oya, both giggling like schoolgirls. Once Sky’s eyes met Monica’s however, her smile faded.

“Baby!” Monica tried, attempting to throw her arms around Sky’s neck, but stopping once she saw the death glare Sky was giving.

“Oya, call me tomorrow with updates. O’Shea, take your break.”

“But I just got here,” O’Shea complained.

“I said take a break!” Sky repeated, raising her voice slightly to emphasize her point. Shea seemed to take the hint, leaving Sky and Monica alone in the shop.

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[izasmomento]

Izza here,

Today was a 4/10

it wasn't all bad but god i feel pathetic complaining about this. It was almost impossible to get out of bed, but i knew that i had to. As i said in my prior post i did have work today and i have people that need me to be there. The 11th graders weren't too bad, but as always there were only 4 students left when i walked in. Can't blame them, i would've done the same if i were still in high school. The ones that were still there were really nice though and they seemed interested in what i was talking about. The 9th graders were quiet as always, they only talk amongst each other, never really responding to my questions or giving me any feedback when i'm talking. There are a few that pay attention (more like 2) but the rest seem unphased by my presence. Again i can't be mad, their speciality is math and science, they must think that i'm utterly useless when i walk through that door, a waste of their time. I can't help but agree, we are both stuck together though so i decided for my own peace of mind i will just give them the same exercise over and over "one drawing composed of dots, other a drawing made with a single line while not lifting the drawing pen/pencil off the paper" it's all that i know really, i just simply can't communicate with these kids and it just makes me sad.

My mother has gotten sick again. this would usually be a very minor occurrence be it any other time but this time. She did take two tests, both came back negative. Just her seasonal smoker's flu i guess. Looking forward to getting mine.

I also teach computer communications* which i know fuck all about. The kiddos like me because instead of doing really boring stuff about GPUs and the usual functions of computers, I just show them different programs like blender and photoshop. I'm not sure how much energy I have left but to make a long story short the second class I was teaching just kinda skipped my class. I was really upset with them, we weren't even taking a test. I can't understand why they just left without telling me anything. I like to think that I'm a reasonable person, I always let them go if they had to catch the bus/train or if they had appointments. For the first weeks of school, i don't even call the register. I've always been understanding with them. I almost cried a little today, but i held it in like a brave girl!

The reason i almost cried was also that i missed one of the events at uni because of work. It wasn't a big deal, they were just exhibiting our works in the university hallway. But seeing the pictures of everyone's work upon the wall stung a little when none of the pictures that were hung up were mine. All my hard work and for what?

I think that i'm being a little too dramatic. So i'm going to take a step back and maybe rest, play some more Omori maybe do some more drawing. It's so late i might not do any of these things and just end up going to take a shower and hitting the bed like a brick.

*it's literally just teaching kiddos how to use a computer but some of the lessons were like "this is a mouse" and like 4 pages of what a mouse does. I have no clue how someone can write 4 pages about computer mice.

[conner-grace]

The Detective and his Little Assistant (part 2)

(Part Index)

Chapter 2: The Investigation Begins

Monday, June 13th

*Akechi's P.O.V.*

As I got to my platform looking for Kaito-kun, I saw someone I wasn't expecting to, the boy from the interview.

"Fancy seeing you here." I smile, slipping into my Detective Prince act, catching his attention. "I didn't think we used the same station. Meeting here must be fate." I continued, joking slightly, before hearing the sound of running footsteps closing in behind me, I had a good idea who it was.

"Gor-Oh, uh, hi, Akechi-senpai." Kaito-kun smiles, though now looking to the ground.

"This is Sasaki Kaito-kun, my underclassmen by year and a friend." I smile in explanation, knowing it'd be near a miracle to get Kaito-kun to talk to someone upon first meeting them.

"Kurusu Akira." The boy answers with a smile.

Kaito's head lifts slightly, 'so he did watch the interview' I think, knowing my friend recognized the boy's voice 'seriously, it takes him a month to remember a name, but two sentences in an interview to be able to recognize a voice' I think, stifling a chuckle.

"Anyway, how are you?" I ask Akira

"Not bad." Akira responds

"That's a good answer." I smile. "...I've been getting interviewed a lot lately, so I've been wondering how to answer such questions...I guess it's best to simply be yourself and say what you think. You've given me much to consider." I smile, wanting to speak more to the interesting boy before hearing something like a stifled snicker from the younger student next to me. Resisting the urge to snap a snarky comment at my underclassmen, I turn my attention back to Akira. "If it isn't too much trouble, may I speak with you again sometime?" I ask, Akira nods, and with that, we get on our trains.

*Kaito's P.O.V*

Akechi and I found seats on the train and sat down.

"So you watched the interview?" Akechi-senpai asks

"Of course I did." I smile, thinking 'you were in it'

"You're quite odd, it takes you a month to remember a name, 5 minutes to be able to recognize a face, and two sentences in an interview for a voice." He chuckles. "Also, mind telling me what that little snicker was for?" He asks, a playful scolding lacing his tone.

"Oh, like I'm the only odd one, you got one sentence out of the boy and it seemed to inspire how you did some stuff for interviews or was it also what he said in the interview a couple days ago?" I smirk, raising a brow and crossing my arms

"I guess you have a point when you put it that way." The young detective chuckles. "Though, speaking of the interview, I'm curious, what's your opinion on the Phantom Thieves?" He asks, making me freeze a little, before looking to my lap, thinking of how to word my answer, not knowing if he'd like it.

"If they are real, they seem to be going after only criminals the police don't have the intel, or possibly resources to go after themselves so far." I answer, looking at my lap.

"But, if they can change hearts, by force no less, isn't there a possibility they could've made the supposed criminal fabricate these crimes?" Akechi-senpai asks, looking at it from multiple angles, as any good detective would.

"I thought about that too." I say, looking to him. "It takes some digging, but there's been rumors going back years, from shortly after one of Madarame's pupils committed suicide and shortly after the first time someone under Kamoshida's teaching ended up in the hospital." I explain, causing Akechi-senpai to sit back in his seat, holding his chin in his hand.

He sighs annoyedly, staying quiet with a faintly annoyed expression. "You do have a point, you could be right." He admits, albeit, seemingly reluctantly.

"Though, we still need to know their methods, not only to see if they’re violent or illegal but also to see if they're usable in the medical world too." I admit, though also putting in another possible outcome. "If you can truly use it to change people's hearts, maybe it can be used to help treat mental disorders, like PTSD, bipolar disorders, depression, and so much more, it might be able to be used to help these people lead normal lives." I smile hopefully, before looking down, remembering one person in particular, 'maybe, just maybe, it could even help Fu-chan'

*Akechi's P.O.V.*

'How do I keep forgetting how thorough that boy is when his goal is to help or he's trying to point something out?' I think as I sigh annoyedly, as much as I didn't want to admit it, Kaito-kun had a point, and at least he wasn’t condescending like the the adults or anymore shy around me than anyone else. "You do have a point, you could be right." I admit after a couple moments.

"Though, we still need to know their methods, not only to see if they’re violent or illegal but also to see if they're usable in the medical world too." He admits, though that last bit sparking my curiosity, looking to him, watching a smile grow on his face as he continued. "If you can truly use it to change people's hearts, maybe it can be used to help treat mental disorders, like PTSD, bipolar disorders, depression, and so much more, it might be able to be used to help these people lead normal lives." Once Kaito-kun finished, he had a smile even I rarely saw, so bright and kind it could bring warmth and light to a room suffering a black in a blizzard.

"Hmm, I hadn't thought of that before, though we'd still need to learn their methods before that possibility." I admit, looking down, my hand going to my chin, before looking back to him, and noticing he was looking down and his smile faltered slightly 'wait, is there someone in specific he-' my thought was cut off as Kaito-kun quickly stood up.

"Well, we're at our stop, let's go before we're late." He smiles.

I stand up and head out, Kaito-kun following close behind, though realizing with a bitten back chuckle ‘of course he’d think about helping other people first, even if he had someone specific, not using a power like that for his own gain’.

***

I was currently finishing up a worksheet in class, and it took every ounce of self-control not to go and confront her. The bully, Yuno Takeya, was three seats behind me, and to make it that much more frustrating, I knew she was a rather big fan of mine. She'd been one of the first to teach me how to tune out loud and annoying fans when I needed to do anything more important. I heard the leather of my glove strain as my hand curled into fist thinking of her targets, due to her manipulativeness and probable jealousy, Kaito-kun was definitely a main target, due to his timidness and connection to me. As much as I wanted to drag her into an empty room and interrogate her till she told the truth, I needed to handle this far more tactfully 'and legally' than that 'I could go after her-no!' Kiato would never forgive himself once that was finished since he put in a request. An irritated sigh left my lips as I finished the worksheet, trying to figure out how to go about this before the perpetrator in question perked up.

"Um, does someone have a pencil I can borrow?" She spoke up, sounding embarrassed.

A small smirk pulled at my lips as I was sure there was a bit of a sly glint in my eye as I pulled a pen out of my pocket, pushing down on the clip, changing my face to that practiced smile as I heard a faint click. "I don't have a pencil, but I do have this, Takeya-chan." I smile, getting up and heading back to her.

"It'll do perfectly Akechi-kun, thank you." She smiled, taking the pen.

"Please be a little careful with it, it was a gift." I smile, 'though if it weren't for the fact I need evidence, I'd never let you touch it' I think, somehow managing to keep to smile. It'd been a gift from Kaito-kun for my last birthday, a voice recording pen, you could turn it on simply by pushing down on the clip, and of course, it wrote like a normal pen too.

"Of course, and thank you again, Akechi-kun." She smiles sweetly.

"No problem, and you can return it at the end of our last class today, okay?" I smile back, surprised no could could see through the plastic fakeness of it.

"Mhmm." She nods with a smile.

At that moment the bell rang, signaling for us to go to lunch, I quickly turned to give my work to the teacher and head out, wanting to be out of that wretch’s presence.

"That's all for today, turn in your work and don't forget you're homework is due Wednesday." The teacher announces.

I head out with a smirk, even though I'd probably want to wash the pen after I got it back, but I should definitely get some solid evidence.

 *Kaitos P.O.V.*

I was waiting in the lunchroom, waiting for Akechi-senpai. Noticing Takeya-senpai coming in, I look down at the table, though happy knowing Akechi-senpai wouldn't be far behind.

"How many times have I told you not to wait for me to start eating?" I hear Akechi-senpai above me, making me jump slightly, before looking up to see him standing over me, a faintly scolding look in his eyes.

"But, I like eating with Ake- Goro-senpai, and I wasn't even waiting ten minutes." I smile sheepishly, he sighs and its next to me.

"So you're finally remembering you can call me by my first name?" He smirks, the scolding look in his eye fading as he sat next to me.

"Trying at least, and it seems you've got something for a case?" I smirk in response, recognizing that sly-but-happy glint in his eyes.

[asklittlepip]

I'm not sure if you can reply to a reply in a post so if you weren't notified, thanks for the advice! I'll certainly use that

EDIT: This was meant to be a private reply, but I’m gonna leave it here. It was in response to comments on this post.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IEqccPhsqgA

Here we go, found it! A racing horse was the subject of the very first recorded video ever! There was curiosity (and arguments) about how exactly their legs move during gallops, which is different from canters and other forms of walking & running they do, so actually being able to see it in motion settled the debate.

Horses are fairly unique in their relationship to humans, being a major part of civilization in a manner not unlike that of dogs, so it’s honestly very surprising we don’t have more media where they are important to the story. Like dogs, they’re very good at communicating with (and understanding) the body language of humans; the pack social structure of most canines is simply a closer match to our own hierarchy compared to a herd��s.

I’ve actually been a “brony” since I was a child in the 80′s, because I watched the ever-loving heck outta the original fantasy-based MLP content, so I was giddy with glee when they managed to bring Tirek back for Season 4′s finale. But the new series has also compelled me into doing research on the actual animals themselves and there’s so much to learn. It’s even more amazing when you realize that the writers and animators alike on the show picked up that same knowledge themselves!

Like, did you know a horse’s lips are considered prehensile? Yes, really. They CAN not only pick things up, they can easily move them around and manipulate them with just their mouth, and the tongue can help even more. A horse could totally write with a pen or pencil in their mouth, as Applebloom and some other characters do, if they had the intelligence to do it. That wasn’t just something “cute” by the writers to avoid using hooves. And speaking of which:

http://asklittlepip.tumblr.com/post/46027429033/how-exactly-do-you-guys-type-your-hooves-are-like

(the above post has links to three other seperate posts of mine with some other facts and discussion about horses and how ponies in MLP actually could manipulate objects with their hooves; they don’t work the way most people think they do!)

Hope this info helps!