#with a little bit of forced bed sharing bc why not

[itostea]

care for me? (gojo x wife! reader)

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in which you’re forced to share a bed with the husband you’re convinced hates you

warnings: there’s only one bed!!!! suggestive bc it’s gojo, they’re both a bit confused, pic from lving yamada kun at lv999

a/n: part of the gojo’s wife series (i recc you read the fic before this one to understand some things), also i’m posting this stuff on my phone now since i’m on vacay …meaning format will be extra ugly💀💀

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“What exactly did you say to make the principal Gakuganji agree to us on a mission together?”

You think Gojo or rather your husband, doesn’t really understand how fast he actually walks. With the way he towers over every civilian in Japan and how much longer his strides are, you’re almost certain that his pacing is far from normal. It gets to the point where you’re jogging to keep up with him, a huff escaping your lips in exasperation.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head over that, ‘kay?” He gives you a lazy smile and with the blindfold wrapped around his head, you can’t exactly see the way he glances over at you–gradually shortening his steps for you to catch up.

You choose to ignore his comment about “your pretty little head” and instead sigh. “Sator–I mean ‘Toru,” you say carefully, gauging the way he gives a satisfied smile at your correction. After the moment you both had in the kitchen at a dangerously late hour, he insisted you call him a nickname.

He gave some recommendations: my hubby, my king, the strongest and most handsome husband. Naturally, you refused to call him those nicknames in public and even denied him the joy in private. So to avoid his needless whining, you compromised and decided on “‘Toru.” The way he brightened up that day made you feel giddy all over but you brushed it off with the fact that you were just glad he was actually talking to you.

“You didn’t do anything bad right?” You inquire, shooting him a glare.

“I think what I did was reasonable!” He chirps, reaching in a bag of candy to plop some in his mouth—the same bag he insisted on getting before you both went on the mission. You can’t help but feel a bit meek when his fingers inch towards your mouth and he gives a toothy grin, beckoning for you to open. You breathe out an annoyed huff, slightly parting your lips to let the sugary treat on your tongue.

He smiles, leaning forward to let his fingers linger in the plush of your lips. “Good girl.”

The way your breath hitches is visceral and you feel the pricks of embarrassment probe at your skin. Your eyes avert from his and you quicken your steps, trying your best to hide the fact that Gojo Satoru was having an effect on you. You miss the way his smile widens at your reaction.

You still avoid his gaze when he catches up. “You know I’m the one who cleans up after your mess whenever you piss the higher-ups right? It’s me who gets the scolding!”

“Scolding? Would you believe me if I told you stuff like that won’t happen again?”

You pause, analyzing how he flashed a coy grin. Immediately, your eyes narrow. “Gojo Satoru.”

“It’s ‘Toru to you,” he voices, chuckling at how your frown deepened. “Relax. I didn’t do anything that bad. Just did enough for them to stop annoying my wife.”

You choose not to linger on how easily the words “my wife” falls out of your lips but it’s hard when he went so far just for your wellbeing. Your mind drifts to his lips pressed against your forehead, instantly regretting it as you feel your neck growing warm. You shake your head, trying to dispel the thoughts from multiplying, earning a curious look from Gojo.

Before he can ask why you went quiet, you stop in your tracks, looking at him with an expression so cute he nearly feels himself fall over. You click your tongue. “‘Toru. You annoy me more than them.”

He whistles, looking at the sight of the abandoned hospital–the location where the S-grade assigned to the both of you curse lies hidden. “Harsh.”

-

The lady in the front trembles as she inputs the data for the two of you. Her eyes scan Gojo’s wide grin and your blank expression that seems even more menacing with the red splatters on your clothes. You blink, tilting your head. “It’s not my blood,” you try to reassure her but that only seems to worsen her fear.

“R-Right!” She squeaks. “One room for Mr. Gojo, correct?”

Gojo nods with a hum, taking the keycard from the lady’s trembling hands. He gestures for you to follow him, walking with so much bravado that any onlooker doesn’t even question the bloodied state of your uniform. “You should’ve been more careful,” he says. “You made a mess.”

“Not everyone has infinity you know?” You mumble, following him into the hotel suite. Your eyes scan the seemingly fancy interior and furniture, not paying much attention until your eyes lock onto an unmistakable sight.

“‘Toru. Why is there only one bed?”

His disinterested hum only serves to make you grow more baffled. He shrugs off his jacket, cracking his neck with a hum. “That’s odd. I could’ve sworn I said two beds. The lady must’ve messed up seeing you all bloodied up. Must’ve scared her real bad huh?”

You’re almost certain that this predicament has brought you more stress than any mission you’ve been sent. And you’re amazed–no bewildered, that Gojo’s not even batting an eye at this.

“Oh? Don’t tell me you’re getting all shy now that you’re sharing a bed with your husband.”

“We’ve never done that before!” You squeak out, dropping your bags on the floor.

That was partially his fault, he thinks. Even so, he keeps his mouth shut. “You have any extra clothes you can wear?”

Even in your frenzied state, you still process the question, blinking in recognition. “No…”

He shrugs. “Then you can wear my shirt,” he points to the white button-up. “Might be gross but it’s better than nothing right? Besides that makes us even now. I got to see you shirtless when—”

“‘Toru!”

He grins an easy-going smile. “Ya know if you’re not comfortable with sleeping on the same bed as me, I can always sleep on the couc–”

“No!” You say a bit too quickly, straightening yourself out when he raises a curious brow. “No I mean like, I don’t mind that much. Besides, I don’t want you to hurt your back on the couch…”

“That’s the only reason?” He smiles and it’s not hard to realize he’s teasing you.

You nod, resolute despite your sweating palms. “Yes.”

“Then…” he shrugs. “You can take a shower first. I’ll leave the shirt near the door. Promise I won’t look. Unless you want me to.”

You can only give another nod, shooting a glare at his shit-eating grin. You take off to the showers, clasping a hand over your mouth as you silently scream in embarrassment. The warm water makes your skin feel hotter to touch and you only try your hardest not to dwell on the details. It’s just a night on the same bed together. Nothing more, nothing less.

You wish you could have kept that confidence huddled in your blankets–watching your snow-haired husband crawl into bed. You try not to linger on his bare torso for too long to be considered healthy and have to physically restrain yourself from jumping when his hand grazes your thigh.

He’s not wearing his blindfold or shades, meaning you can really see how his eyes watch your every move in interest. He leans closer, making you bite a squeak down. “You’re hogging the blankets.”

“Huh? Oh yeah,” you laugh awkwardly, throwing the fabric off your body for him. Gojo Satoru doesn’t have a favorite art piece but you in his shirt might just take the spot. He licks his lips, seeing how you unbuttoned a few buttons near the collar for more room–how you avoided his gaze. Cute, he thinks.

He raises a brow when you lay on your side, covering yourself in the blankets until you’re a heap of fabric. His lips twitches into a smile when he sees the way you curl up into yourself. Then again, he chooses not to mention it when he feels himself growing drowsy.

You’re not sure how much time passes but you can hear Gojo’s gentle breathing fill the room. You bring a hand to your legs, trying to ease away the goosebumps forming on your skin. At first, you assumed they were from nerves but now, you’re almost certain it’s because the hotel’s blasting the AC. And oddly enough, Gojo seems completely unaffected, even able to sleep peacefully.

You sigh, turning to face him. You’ve always known your husband was an attractive man but it’s not fair for him to look so good even while sleeping. His lashes are long and you find yourself staring a bit too long at his lips. Again, your mind drift to the moment when he pressed those same lips to your forehead and instead of being filled with embarrassment, you’re filled with a feeling that squeezes at your heart.

Subconsciously, you’re reaching for his face, grazing a finger down his cheekbones to the corner of his lips. His skin is smooth against your touch and you’re almost jealous that his skin was perfect too. You continue to map your way to his jawline, mesmerized at the sight.

“Enjoying the view?” He mumbles, his eyes closed though a smile crosses his face. You’re about to retrace your hand away from his face but he’s quick to clasp one around your wrist. You nearly squeak when he leans closer to your palm, his eyes finally opening to peer into yours. “Eyeing me when I’m asleep? I didn’t know you were such a per—“

“I’m not!” You yelp, snatching your wrist away from you him with a flushed face.

He hums, propping himself on his elbow to watch you. “Hm? Now you getting all embarrassed on me after you felt me up?”

“I did not feel you up.”

He merely shrugs with a grin. “It’s all good. I think you’re pretty cute too.”

You didn’t know it was possible to be this flustered until you shared a bed with Gojo. “I only touched you because I was cold!”

That wasn’t entirely a lie either. When you felt Gojo’s face, his skin was warm under your touch and you wondered if the rest of him was like that. Naturally, you refrained from thinking even further or else you really wouldn’t sleep a wink.

To your surprise, you feel see him pat the spot besides him. Your lips fall apart as you continue to stare. He only shrugs with a lazy smirk. “What? A husband has to make sure his wife’s comfortable right?”

It’s hard to say no when you feel the cool air of the AC bite into your skin—your limbs trembling. You hold his gaze for a few seconds, sighing as you scootched closer to him. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling your frame closer until you’re against his torso.

You try not to dwell on the fact that you can feel how his muscles move against your shirt—or rather his shirt; how he nuzzled his face in your neck, breathing in your scent that this scene felt so naturally domestic.

You squirm in his embrace, shifting your hips around to find a more comfortable position. His arms immediately squeeze you tighter, making you squeak. “Stay still,” he says lowly against your ear.

“You’re holding me too tight,” you whine, wiggling your hips again. This time, his hand squeezes your hip.

“Yeah? Well if you don’t stop squirming, I’ll have another problem to deal with.”

“What—“ You say before the realization hits you and you’re left spluttering like an idiot. Your head turns to face him and you immediately regret it.

His blues bore into yours and you see how his lips twitch as if trying to hold back a laugh. “I—“ You start, turning away from him with your stomach doing flips. “Okay,” you squeak, clenching your eyes shut at your response.

He only grunts in response, spooning you with his chin atop of your head. Minutes pass and you relax in his arms. “‘Toru?”

“Hm?”

“Why are you being so nice to me right now? I thought you hated me?”

“What?” For the first time, he sounds awake. He leans up so you can see his hues peering down at you. You watch bemused as a tortured expression crosses his face for a second. “(Name), I don’t hate you. I never hated you.”

Your bewilderment grows. “But you…you never talked to me.”

He smooths a hand through his hair. “Can’t say I don’t have some regrets about that.”

It’s the same like last time, when the two of you were in the kitchen. He’s looking at you so tenderly that you can’t bring yourself to look away. “I care for you,” he continues, trying to pick his words thoughtfully. “Much more than I want to.”

He still peers down at you, so close that you almost think he’s about to lean in for a kiss. You observe him with a wide-eyed look, only letting out a little gasp when you feel his lips press against your forehead again—the feeling familiar to you. Gojo resumes his cuddling shortly after, squeezing your hip once more. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

You widen your eyes, remaining silent. You’re at a list of words, momentarily left speechless. Even so, you reach down to press a hand over his on your hip, squeezing it lightly. “I know.”

Gojo thinks he sleeps the best when you’re besides him. You’re soft against him, fitting perfectly in between his arms. He thinks, there’s no way he was going to let this moment pass—and he was a man who kept true to his wishes. The next time he was going to sleep in his house, he was going to do it with you by his side.

BONUS:

“‘Toru…”

“What is it again?” He grumbles, though there’s no bite in his tone.

“Why couldn’t we just teleport home instead of going to a hotel?”

A brief silence follows.

“Go to sleep.”

[n0pr0mises]

𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗

𝚒 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚒 𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚍𝚊𝚢— 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚛𝚢/𝚏𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚎 𝚠 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚞𝚎.

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝟷𝟾+ 𝚗𝚜𝚏𝚠, 𝚏𝚎𝚖 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝚋𝚍𝚜𝚖-𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎, 𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚕 (𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐), 𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝 (𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏), 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚢 😔, 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍, 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚖𝚎

All you did today was fight for every fucking thing, for respect from your coworkers, against criticism from your boss, with your family about what you were doing with your life, and now you can't stop.

Nanami recognizes that you need to be taken out of your own head and recentered. But you're stuck in fight mode, and you argue and push back the whole time bc even if you know it’s what you need, you just can’t let go.

And that just frustrates you more, almost to the point of tears, because you know that you are making everything harder for yourself and you're being downright mean to him, when he hasn't done anything except put himself in your path as an easy target.

Right now, he is part of the “everyone else” and you need him to force you not to fight anymore. you're home now, you're safe, you can let your guard down. but you just can't do that and you can't get those words out, so you just hope that he understands what you can't tell him.

And Nanami does understand. He always has a way of knowing.

He wondered, when you walked in and answered his greeting with a sigh and a hum. He had an inkling when you just shoved your belongings into a pile on the entryway bench. He was suspicious when you snarked at him for asking how your day was. and he was sure when you purposefully turned your head away from his kiss.

you have an unofficial routine when one of you gets home before the other. the first one home is who starts dinner and then helps the other begin their decompression from the outside world. sometimes it's light and soft. and sometimes it is not.

So he's rough with you. He grabs you, but he never throws you or pushes you. He holds you firmly, his movements sure and controlled. And as much as you back talk and push against him, he stays steady. the only thing that will let him know this isn't what you need, is that one word that you both know would stop all of this.

But you don't want that. you want him to make you let go, to give up your control, to stop worrying,

So instead, you try to pull away and he doesn't let you. he easily drags you to your shared bedroom and you complain the whole time. even as he undresses you, getting you to start letting the world fall away from you layer by layer. Your protests slow down, but haven't stopped, so he sits on the bed with you across his lap, bare ass easily within his grasp. He softly runs his hand up and down your bare back, giving you goosebumps, until you are a little less tense and your breathing has slowed. and then he smacks the flat of his palm across your ass and thighs.

You jolt and curse him, but he shushes you and holds your tighter. He tells you to count, because he knows that eventually you'll be too busy trying to keep track and forget why you're supposed to be mad.

You feel his cock harden underneath you, but he doesn't let you try to grind down against him. what he does do is lift your hips up just a bit, so your wet pussy is more exposed a delivers a harsh, stinging slap against it, causing you to let out a breathy cry.

His hand is a little bit wet now when he hits you, and it makes you feel some type of way knowing he's turning you into a perfect little mess for him.

By the time you've gotten to fifteen solid slaps to your ass and thighs, you're breathing heavy and kind of exhausted, lying flat and almost boneless across his lap. your eyes are a bit wet and the most prominent thought in your head is the sting in your backside and how you can feel the heat radiating from your own skin. and Kento is a master at providing a satisfying experience, not leaving any one area less red than another.

You shudder and jerk when he gently rubs his hand over your heated skin and he knows that you are almost there, but he needs to push you a little more. It's his job to look after you and he takes it very seriously.

So he helps you onto the floor with a small pillow under your knees (which he keeps beside the bed for this exact purpose). He arranges you how he likes and is satisfied that you are no longer pushing against his movements, but rather leaning into them.

Kento undoes his belt and pulls his painfully hard cock out. it's an angry red and the head is wet from all of the precum. Your mouth is already open, tongue eager for the weight of him on it. He rubs his thumb against your cheek before moving his hand to take a significant hold at the back of your head.

"Look at me," he says quietly, his voice steady and deep as always, lulling you even further into a tingling sense of calm. you tilt your head back as much as you're allowed so you can look up at him, eyes damp and mouth still open. the longer he admires you, you start to whine and he hushes you while guiding his thick length into your wet and ready mouth.

His head falls back, letting out his own shuddering groan and has to take a minute to just savor the feel of you around him. you hum around him, eyes fluttering shut and just holding him in your mouth. you're savoring the feel of him, how he fills your mouth, the solid weight of him against your tongue, anchoring you.

He pulls your hair gently so your open your eyes again, asking, "ready?"

You hum again and hollow your cheeks in a brief suck, indicating he can start at any time.

"Good girl." he praises while he starts to pull his cock out to angle your head and more easily fuck all the way into your throat. you immediately choke as he pushes it just enough into your tight throat. you easily accustom to his thrusts and relax further into his hold, the steady in and out of his tip into the tight heat of your throat lulling you into a sense of comfort.

And finally, you can't think of anything at all.

You've never felt safer or more at peace than when you're on your knees in your bedroom, Kento's steady hand gripping your hair just enough to sting, fucking his cock into your throat with shallow, grinding thrusts.

"I've got you, darling. just let me take care of you."

[watermelondip]

seasons | summer pt. one

pairing: stiles stilinski / female reader word count: 11k tags: friends to lovers, jealously, miscommunication, little bit of angst, mostly fluff, pre-season 3/post-season 2 warnings: underage drinking, brief/vague mentions of sexual content (will become more graphic later on) a/n: this story is going to be three parts, and this is part one of part one basically, bc i just wanted to post it. i'm gonna cross-post onto ao3 but i don't wanna do that until the whole chapter is finished, which it nearly is. at that point i'll post the second part of part one. been working on this since the beginning of the year! don't know why it's taken me this long!

At the end of sophomore year, your boyfriend dumped you, you threw your finals, and Stiles decided to grow out his hair. Of those three things, the hair was the only one you were willing to talk about, so the first week or so of summer was emotionally muddled, mostly consisting of days in bed and text conversations about dorky movies or hypothetical plans that were bound to fall through. Plus, Allison jetted off to France, and Lydia was generally MIA per mysterious Lydia reasons; you were looking out at three months of Stiles and Stiles alone, which was intensely overwhelming.

Foremostly, Stiles had been a good, unwavering, PB&J (a.k.a. everything you’d expect, want, etc) sort of friend since Elementary school, but he had never taken such a central role in your life before. Since, of course, your boyfriend, tall-blond-asshole-Pearl-Jam-listening Kenny, had always been the leading man. But Kenny was bored with mediocrity, and according to you, and maybe also Jessica from lit who loved to talk shit, he just wanted to whore around until college, which was fast approaching, the senior that he was. 

So, when you sobbed, tried to stop sobbing, nearly vomited, and then decided to call Stiles, screeching he’s such a jerk, I hate him, god, he’s such a jerk, you know into the phone, it was almost cathartic. But when he rambled back at you over the line, something about you being better than tall-blond-asshole-Pearl-Jam-listening Kenny and needing to stop letting him get under your skin, something sweet like that, an urge that had been buried on the playground emerged with full force, albeit a little morphed for the modern day. 

Too desperately for your own good, you wanted to fuck Stiles. In fact, you wanted to make love to Stiles, like in an 80s movie, something smooth playing in the background, basking in candlelight, or maybe after prom, makeup fallen under your eyes and dress half laced up in the back. The specifics weren’t entirely important. Most vitally, you asked yourself if you understood love at all, and if what you had felt for Kenny was genuine love, or if that had been reserved all those years for your sudden realization. You thought, most assuredly, that you very well could be in love with Stiles, for all that was worth.

It had been apparent for years that it was more than a friendship. Kenny would hardly ever shut up about it, but you were good at brushing things off. Stiles is Stiles, you’d say, a shrug or a slump accompanying your deliberate nonchalance. I could never date Stiles, you’d affirm, but you’d be at a loss if asked to explain why (except, maybe, to say that Stiles would never date you, but admitting something like that to yourself was unpleasant, so you shied away from it).

Cataloging memories and coming up with the logistics in your mind, it was important to consider that Stiles was perpetually obsessed with Lydia to the point of derangement, so it seemed unlikely that he would abandon all of that for a girl that was functionally opposite. You were, of course, a girl with hair and eyes and cute enough clothes, but you were also overtly normal and lacked the minx-ish qualities that seemed to be so attractive to him. You were friends with Lydia and you understood her most of the time, occasionally sharing in her girly-isms on Saturday nights, but there was something fundamental in your DNA that prevented you from ever being her carbon copy. You thought, how could he want to fuck you if you didn’t smell so strongly of vanilla and cashmere, and when he touched you your essence didn’t transfer onto his skin in a gold, sparkling sheen?

Sometimes, though, when it was late and you were sitting on the couch in your basement, the only thing separating you being an empty popcorn bowl, and he turned to you and made a joke about whatever was on the TV, but he was smiling so wide and you just couldn’t stop staring, it didn’t matter if you weren’t Lydia. You knew it would never be like that with her, and you let yourself be mean spirited about it, too, because you were so jealous sometimes that it consumed you. You wanted to pull him over by the sleeve and throw the empty bowl on the floor and tell him how cute he was, how potently him he seemed.

It was a hellish summer.

You got a job at this isolated little coffee shop at the edge of town, rustic fixtures and squeaky tap and all, but it paid decent enough. There was this cute senior named Josh that would always be working there when you were on your shifts, spouting, I’ll miss you when I graduate, Ace, and running his fingers through his overgrown hair. He was tan and he played sports and you probably should’ve dated him, if only for a few months, just to wean yourself off Kenny and prevent yourself from salivating over Stiles, but you could never bring yourself to fully reciprocate his banter.

“Guy’s a douche,” Stiles murmured, playing with the sleeve on his coffee cup, leaning overtly over the countertop. “He was on lacrosse last year, which he sucked at, by the way, and he kept calling me scrawny, a total projection, obviously, since he’s got major chicken legs and that super long, like, Slenderman neck that he always juts out like a creep–” Stiles mimed the action, “–you know? And, besides, if you’re gonna rebound, you should do it with somebody cool like a famous person or a teacher or something.”

“Stiles.” You fussed with the faulty register, shooting him a warning look. “Sit,” you chirped, nodding towards the tables behind him.

“Just kidding, about the teacher thing, definitely don’t do that. Actually, I heard that Mr. Sanders isn’t gonna be there next year because he got caught hitting on Lauren Johnson, which is kind of crazy considering his wife just got pregnant, pretty sure, and–”

“They’re gonna fire me if you keep talking my ear off, you know.” He grinned, tightening his grip on his coffee.

“Yeah, well, that’s sort of my goal.” He leaned closer, tilting his head with a hesitancy that made you frown. “You spend all day here. It’s boring.”

“You could always get your own job.”

“Har har, good one. Me, working, very funny–

“–Stiles–” 

“–No, a zinger, really.” It was too early for him to be so bright, and you squinted at his shine.

“Customer, due east,” you declared, shooing him away with your hand. Someone burly and un-caffeinated stumbled through the door. “Stiles, sit down,” you urged, pushing at his hands, splayed lazily over the counter. You narrowed at him and he relented, slouching over to a seat by the window. Even in defiance, he pulled out a book and stayed for an hour. 

It was a half-an-hour drive to the beach, which felt like hours in the Jeep since the seats were always sticky and the air conditioning was temporarily busted. You had done yourself up in the most severe way, with a tiny bikini and a face of makeup that would inevitably be washed away by the water and the heat. You kept running your hands over your thighs, trying to decide if the skin there was smooth enough, scratching nervous lines up and down. Rilo Kiley was on the radio and the sun was reaching you through the window; the backseat was oppressive.

“Water?” Scott asked, dangling his arm over from the passenger’s seat. His water bottle had rolled under the seat, and you contorted yourself in an attempt to grab it. It was old, scuffed on the cap, half-filled and a nauseating shade of green that looked worse with age. Stiles took a turn and you huffed as the bottle skirted out of your grip. “Are you digging for gold back there or something?”

“Just gimme a second,” you snapped, clawing at the bottle until it relented into your palm.

“She’s testy because Kenny has a new girlfriend,” Stiles remarked, slapping Scott’s expecting arm. You handed him the water bottle.

“He has a new girlfriend?” You pushed your hair from your face, feeling the slick sheen of your back resettle against the seat. You crossed your legs, quelling the oncoming tremor.

“They’re not really dating, are they?” Scott questioned before chugging his water like an Olympian, throat pulsating, expanding like a beast. There was something animalistic that lined his every action post-bite, and you found it occasionally off putting, like he was some strange dog on the side of the road, swaying towards you with an open, heaving mouth. He swallowed, gasping for a moment. “You’re talking about Tana, right?”

“Uh, no, no, I meant Bree.” Stiles glanced at you in the rearview, frowning. “Sorry.” 

“It’s fine.” You pulled at the hem of your shorts, wondering if Kenny took Tana or Bree to the same diner he always took you to, or if he told them to close their eyes and kissed them soft and quick like he used to do with you. Begrudgingly, you let in the reality that your relationship with him would never be the snowglobe you made it out to be, and that he had processed things fully while you were still mourning.

“Tana’s a total slut,” Stiles tentatively reasoned. Scott elbowed him to no avail. “And Bree too, so,” he trailed off, throwing you a look over his shoulder, something slathered with sympathy. “We’ll find you a beach hunk, don’t worry.” He patted your knee, his burning fingertips and good intentions infecting you all throughout.

Cute-senior-coffee-boy Josh was playing volleyball a few feet away, and from your position on your front, head turned to the side, maybe just to stare, you felt undeniably voyeuristic. In a sense, with sweat dripping down his chest and hair flopping into his face, he was coital. Beach hunk, you thought, daydreaming.

“Stop drooling,” Stiles puffed, pulling off his t-shirt. You furrowed.

“Where’s Scott?” You sat up on your elbows, glancing to the empty chair beside him.

“He hasn’t scored a single point this whole game, and you’re still ogling him, which is sort of pathetic on your part.” Stiles’ hair stuck out unceremoniously from his scalp, morning-esque, and he tossed the shirt into the sand. The sun hit him in a nasty way, and he dug through the communal bag for a pair of sunglasses. “Of course fucking Josh is here today, fucking douche.” He began to murmur, and you sighed, flopping back down onto your arms, chin poking harshly into your flesh.

Stiles pushed on a pair of large, boxy sunglasses that you recalled pulling out from your vanity that morning.

“Those are mine.” You suppressed a laugh, shoving your nose into your forearm.

“I kinda pull them off though, right?” His anger subsided for a moment, and he easily diffused the conflict with a grin. He hated to dwell, you knew. Things were never very gritty for him. He turned his head to either side, shrugging. His nose was a little sunburnt, and you pictured what he might do if you lathered it in aloe and kissed him hard right after, saying, god, will you stop picking at it?

“You’re the one who brought up the beach hunk.” You returned to the side-facing position that gave you a good view of Josh’s serve. Your feet kicked up behind you. “You think he’d go for me?”

Stiles was quiet for a moment. Josh grunted whenever he hit the ball. His swim shorts were low on his hips. You were so inexplicably piggish with your gaze that what you had assumed was a post-breakup horny brain seemed to really just be the birth of a nympho, you thought. There was something mad about you. 

He cleared his throat: “Course he’d go for you. Doesn’t mean you should throw yourself at him.” You turned to look up at him, squinting, incredulous.

“What’s your problem?” He slumped into his beach chair, running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to fix it, only managing to make it messy in a different format, charming all the same. You liked the taut folds of his stomach, the moles on his chest, on his arms, his shoulders, the ones that were reaching for his face through his neck. You found it difficult to be frustrated with him when he was half naked and sweltering. 

“Guy’s a douche. That’s all.” You could hardly see his eyes through the dark lenses. “At least be tactful.”

“Tactful?” 

“Subtle. At least be subtle.”

You pondered on subtlety as Stiles looked off at the water. He shifted, crossing his arms over his chest, baking a bit. You thought to ask, can I get your back, squinting up at him and maybe pushing your boobs together a little, but then you reprimanded yourself and remembered that you shouldn’t be a perv. When you were eleven you’d asked him if he’d ever kiss you and all he could get out was nowaynowayuhgrossno, choking on his Cheerios. It seemed futile.

A few minutes later, Scott returned with a mint-chocolate-chip, which he handed to you, and a rocky road, which he had already taken a decent chunk out of for himself. Stiles seemed offended, mouth ajar.

“I don’t like what you said about Tana and Bree in the car,” explained, crashing into his chair. “Also it was really expensive and I still owe her twenty bucks.”

“Don’t worry about that,” you assured him, vaguely waving as if to say I’m cool, and licked off a drippy bit. “This works. Ice cream is, like, how much it costs times two and then some.”

“Why don’t you have a chair?” Scott asked, tossing his leg over his knee. “You look like you hate us,” he laughed. Stiles looked over at you, and even though you still couldn't see his eyes great, you imagined that they were raking down your back, subtly like he’d said, and got sort of hot in the neck.

“I’m basking,” you explained, wiping some mint-chocolate-chip from the corner of your mouth.

“She’s trying to be sexy for Josh,” Stiles chimed in, gruff. “Which you don’t need to do because he already likes you, by the way.”

“You don’t know that,” you argued, flattered. It showed; you meant to say that you knew he liked you, but that wasn’t the point, and that you really just wanted to be dramatic, since everything had felt so grey since Kenny had ended and all. 

“He likes you,” he retorted firmly. 

“Ask him out,” Scott suggested. You hated that he was an ice cream biter, and the sight made you shrivel up a little. He had his mouth full. “He’ll probably say yes,” he decided, examining you.

“Aw gee,” you teased. He hardly ever said stuff like that to you. Mostly, if he did anything at all, he’d flick your head and say you make me laugh at lunch or maybe in the hallway, if he had the time. You liked that he was so casual. Stiles gave him a look like they had some big secret, like you were just a little kid sitting on the edge of the bench, getting words spelled out to you like you were dumb and wouldn’t know the meaning.

It was out of place, but you started to think about sex. Building up the courage to talk to Josh, with Scott and Stiles arguing about something inconsequential, maybe lacrosse or maybe Allison, in the background, it became incredibly important to you. Not just sex in terms of the act, but sex like the aura, like the way you might walk towards him, hips swaying, and the way you might bear your neck to him as if it were some sort of animalistic ritual. You had never gone that far with Kenny, and you asked yourself if you could fake that sort of thing or not. Josh was older and you were sure he’d slept with plenty of girls, which was scary and you were psyching yourself out too much.

“Give me those,” you demanded, wiggling your finger at the sunglasses Stiles had adopted.

“What? No, I like them. Why?” Half of you wanted to let him wear the silly girl sunglasses because they were yours and that must’ve meant something.

“You told me to be subtle and I have expressive eyes.” You stretched out your hand, urging. Stiles paused, almost like he had been talking in hypotheticals and he’d never thought you’d do it, not with Josh who you were sure had slept with lots of girls and was a douche, that’s all. 

“You’re really going to talk to him?” He was quieter, more reserved, like you’d juiced him dry and now he was just reeling. Scott smiled, but maybe just because Stiles was being stubborn and he looked dumb in your sunglasses. 

“I do it almost every day, Stiles.” You jutted your hand forward impatiently. 

“That’s work. Work is different. This is voluntary and you’re in underwear.”

“Give me the sunglasses,” you demanded, tucking your hair behind your ear on the left, giving him a look that usually garnered affection, eyes big. He was a sore loser, but he handed them to you anyway, and he sucked it up okay, digging his heels into the sand.

Josh smelled like something from the mall, something like lake water and rough pine, and he had a sweaty beach face, tan and dark in the eyes and a little bit of condensation on his upper lip. You looked at him through your sunglasses, confident in the way they concealed you, and he said, “you look hot”, laughing and grinning and being overall very effective.

When you licked your ice cream, you wondered if he found it all sensual or if you were just embarrassing yourself. He was so easygoing that you couldn’t really tell.

He ran his fingers through his hair like he always did, with it falling on either side all piece-y and smooth. You thought about how much Lydia would like him. She always told you to go for more typical sorts of guys. She never wanted to hear about Stiles, who was non-typical and didn’t smell like mall scents and never wore the right thing. She said, “he’s too much of a cartoon, with his clothes and his blah, you know”, but his clothes had changed since last year. He was more typical than he’d ever been before.

“We’re all going over to Miller’s place after this,” Josh said, picking over your appearance, lingering a bit on your collarbone. “You can come. So can Stilinski and McCall and whoever else.”

“It’s a party?”

“It’s a thing. I guess it’s a party. Anyway, I want you there.” That made you extra sweaty. You wondered if he’d pull you into an empty room and try to put his hands in your pants like you’d always feared, even if it was that kind of fear that teetered on the edge, dipping into something different, more like curiosity. It didn’t matter much because Peter Miller had the third biggest house of anyone you could think of off the top of your head, and he had a pool too, and a giant basement with a bar, which was always stocked because his parents didn’t mind for him and his friends to drink. 

Josh ran his hand along your hairline, clearing your eyes, and said, “crazy wind today”, boyishly aware, so you just knew you’d go to the party.

Stiles took you home so you could change. He said, “I’ll be back in a little”, and he left with Scott and the Jeep and some of your sanity, too. It was intensely hot outside and you knew that finding a balance between comfort and sexuality was important. Still, your trademark was your lack of formality. Lydia always said it was charming that you picked shorts when she might have picked a skirt, and you didn’t do up your hair like she did, and that when you wore makeup it was just different, like it didn’t make as much sense for you. This was all a construction, everything just as innately tailored as it was with her, but in a different strata. 

You wondered if Josh liked boobs or butt or neither or both or maybe a subtle, uneven mix, like sixty-forty or something. If you asked Stiles you knew he’d say eyes, and when you’d say no really, he’d say you’re right, it’s boobs, and then he’d grin for days.

Your shorts were the girly kind, with big buttons and a chunky foldover hem, paired with something thin and airy that Allison had said was so cute, something she’d buy for herself if the color didn’t wash her out. You thought you might shower, but then you thought of Stiles, how he could be back anytime, and how he’d be mad if you held him up. He already didn’t want to go.

“Josh, like Josh Dubie? Like the one who sucked at lacrosse?” your sister asked. You had three. Three sisters and two brothers and an uncle in the basement and two parents who didn’t talk very much, probably because one of them was a little too close with their siblings. 

“Stiles is worse,” you said, wiping off your lipstick. Lucy, aged fourteen, had barged in to borrow a sweatshirt that she couldn’t seem to locate. She had a bonfire later. You knew she was going to drink but you were too muddled to complain to her about it.

“Yeah, but it’s funny with Stiles. Josh should be good at lacrosse, so it’s just kinda sad.” You shot her a look. “That color is too much,” she said, furrowing at the red all faded on your lips.

Scott had decided to stay home. Even though his werewolf-ness had given him strong arms and an underlying sense of urgency, he still carried remnants of the wallflower you’d grown up with. Stiles would’ve stayed home too, had it not been for you and Josh and you and your terrible driving skills and you. He was wearing his nice plain blue t-shirt, not his nasty old one, which you found only slightly endearing.

“You need to clean in here,” you grimaced, kicking around an old bag of Doritos by your feet.

He pressed his lips together all taut-like, frowning, something forming in his throat that made him contract, retreat, reorganize.

“Do you think we’re gonna know anyone?” he asked, glancing at the footwell.

“Definitely not. Well, not unless you’re familiar with my good friend, the Twisted Tea.”

“Or the lacrosse assholes,” he added, hinting at a depression that made you feel obtuse. It would’ve been a fine night to re-watch Tremors and have an expired popsicle. He tried to smile but you watched the way it fell, his mouth twitching at the sides. You wondered what he’d do if you were alone with Josh and he was stuck downstairs or on the patio or something, and he called you but your phone was in your purse and your purse was on the floor. You wondered if he’d leave you there.

“We don’t have to go,” you offered, shifting uneasily. “I mean, we can do something else. We can go see Bad Teacher. It has Jason Segel; you like him, right?”

“No, no, we’re going.” He bit his lip, and you realized you were staring. “Sure, I’m dreading it, but hey, it might be fun, and maybe Josh isn’t as bad as I think.” He gesticulated haphazardly. 

“Really?” You tucked your hands under your thighs, looking down at your feet. The Converse probably weren’t the right choice. You and Stiles matched. His eyes flickered over to you for a moment, and he smiled softly.

“Well, for starters, he likes you. That’s already, like, five points at least.”

“You don’t know that he–”

“–he likes you, and he’s generally hygienic, which has gotta be another two. Then there’s his prowess in all non-lacrosse sports, although after today I might add beach volleyball to the list of things he’s not very good at. Oh, and cold brews.” You puffed out a scoff-laugh. “Minus a bajillion points for not being very nice to Stiles, though.”

“I can scold him later if you want.” It never made much sense to you why people were nasty to Stiles, since he was cute and sweet and even if he was being a little annoying, it was always easier to laugh at him than kick him down. But then Lydia would say you’re too nice, it’s not good for you and you’d think that maybe you were just fated to feel that way about him, to see him as tolerable, because otherwise no one would be there quietly worshiping his ground. “I could blue ball him or make him confess some deep dark secret and then mass text it to the whole school like they do in movies,” you finished, trying to lighten whatever damper had lined his lilts and movements.

“Just be careful, okay?” he asked, more sincere and rigid than you were used to seeing him. Still, you knew that he thought you were a bit funny, and that he didn’t mind who you tried to date as long as you didn’t stop going to him for rides and helping him with his essays. You wondered if you weren’t careful, if you drank the darkened cup and entered the unknown room, if he would come to save you, and if you would fall in love forever after that.

You took your first shot, first shot ever, or at least since Kenny, which felt like a lifetime ago, and Stiles looked you in the eye and tugged on your arm and he whispered, “Hey, slow down party girl”, but Josh was giving you sex looks from the couch, so all you wanted to do was accelerate. You still felt obtuse, though. Stiles really didn’t know anyone at the party. It’s different for girls because guys don’t have to know girls to like them, but Stiles was just the bad-at-sports kid with one friend and a handful of decent grades. It was one of those things where not even the ugliest girls there, who really weren’t ugly at all, and probably had boyfriends at the end of the day, would even try coming up to him.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you out, you know,” Josh said, leaning against the wall like a real cool guy. He had this sly grin that made you go shivery. Stiles was symbolically hooked to you, symbolically sewed to you by his elbow or his fingertips. He gave Josh a funny look, a look like really? You giggled.

“Ha,” you coughed, sipping, “right.” 

“Stilinski, you drink, don’t you?” 

“I’m driving,” he said tightly. His fingers ghosted over the back of your hand, dangling at your side.

“You know, you guys can totally crash here. Pete’s parties aren’t really much unless you get wasted, and he’s got a million couches in the basement.” This was your surging, everlasting, fear-and-curiosity nightmare. Stiles would drink, and babble, and pass out, and then the hand in your pants, the mouth on your neck. Your legs felt tired and your head pounded a bit. He should’ve been more pushy with Scott, then you might still have a savior. 

“Stiles is responsible,” you murmured, grabbing onto his arm and shaking it a bit. There was always something intoxicating about touching him ever since you hit puberty and became wholly conscious. His eyebrows pinched together as he looked down at you, and you just wanted to cry a little, just to let something out other than another wobble. You knew it was a lie; he was just as much of a boy as the rest of them, and he let things go just as often.

“Yeah, we’re good,” he assured. Your hand fell from his arm and you straightened yourself up.

“No, no,” Josh shook his head, eyeing you with a strange determination. “No, man, let's get you a drink.” 

“Really, it’s okay, I'm driving.” Josh pushed himself off the wall, going to grab Stiles’ shoulder, but he shoved him off. You tried to sink into the houseplant beside you, become one with the dirt and avoid the confrontation you saw slowing bubbling in front of you.

“Like hell!” Peter Miller jogged through the archway. He was bigger than you remembered. He muffed up Stiles’ hair and nudged him where Josh had tried to grab him, and you sort of just wanted to steal the keys and declare celibacy. “Like hell you aren’t drinking, Stilinski,” he reiterated, shoving a cup, something identical to yours, into Stiles’ hand. Stiles looked at you like you’d have some great big answer for him. All you could do was shrug and blame the whole scenario on the poor decisions caused by a false sexual drive.

Thirty minutes later, you ran off to the bathroom to puke. You never drank as much as you had that night. Maybe it was nerves, you thought, but it wasn’t as if you even liked Josh all that much, aside from his solid chest and his charming expressions. Maybe it was Stiles, you thought, who had made you second-hand upset with his uncharacteristic quietness. You hated when things really did get to him, since he never let it linger, never liked to dwell, not usually. 

It felt like five whole minutes that you were hurling. Someone knocked on the door a few times, but you were still frantically pulling your hair back, heaving, as she said, “I have to piss like a fucking racehorse”, clearly to a friend, and you couldn’t half care. 

When you came back downstairs, Stiles was gone. Right away you figured he’d been murdered, but when Josh wrapped his arm around your shoulder and tried to swing you into the kitchen, it became pertinent that you didn’t let assumption overtake you. Josh breathed heavy down your neck like a predator, whispering you look nice as he drank beer from the bottle like your father always did. You sobered, and you knew this wasn’t your fantasy. 

You found Stiles by the pool. His shoes were placed neatly next to him, socks stuffed inside, with his feet dangling in the water, texting. Even with his neck craned over and his shoulders hunched forward, you found him so innately attractive you nearly became stone and fell to your knees at the sight, cracking at every corner. 

“I’m sorry,” you said. He shut off his phone as you sat down next to him, crossing your legs. Even though you had rinsed out your mouth under the tap, you feared the vomit stench, and made sure not to get too close.

“For what?” He rubbed the heels of his palms over his shorts, hesitant to engage with you.

“For making you come. I’m sorry.” He nodded, eyes locked on the water, rippling as he moved his legs back and forth. “How drunk are you?” 

“Tipsy. I mean, I can’t drive, if that’s what you’re asking.” He looked at your lap, the way you fiddled with your hands, picking at the skin around your nails. “You?”

“I puked,” you said, swallowing down a bit of shame about it. Stiles laughed, which made you smile a little too wide, since you were still feeling so warm and loose, but his hair flopped and his eyes were clouded. Your thumb dug into your palm. “Also definitely screwed up the whole Josh thing, but I probably could have managed that sober too.”

“Well, okay then, final verdict: he’s still a douche.”

Even though you very well could have been in love with him before, you were suddenly so sure that it was definite, that you loved him and there was nothing else to call it. It was a summer thought, something that appears when life is uninterrupted by school and fleeting connections. You thanked yourself for puking because you could have kissed him then. It wouldn’t have been much of anything.

You picked at your cuticle so hard it made a noise, and Stiles winced.

“Stop that.” He reached out to pull your hands apart, taking one of them on his own, interlocking your fingers. He squeezed once, pulling your joint hands into the space between the two of you, which you had thought was just for the bile smell but seemed to be of more meaning the longer he looked at you. “You do that when you’re stressed. I hate it.” Even with the lukewarm chill of the night, the back of your neck was burning, and your stomach was spinning like a car tire. 

“You play with your pencils,” you accused, but still frowned at you, “and you bite your nails.”

He furrowed: “No I don’t.”

“You do. And you scratch your knees. You did it a second ago.” His pupils were big and brown, dilated. You weren’t sure how drunk you were anymore, but it all felt very hazy. You thought that he’d probably only held your hand like that a few times ever, which made it all very special and exhilarating, even if you couldn’t show it with your slight slur, speech slowed down just a fraction.

“Yeah, well,” he trailed off. Not very jovial, you understood. His grip around you loosened and, fearing that he might let go, you squeezed as tight as you could, smiling obscenely big even if you didn’t mean it.

“Let’s go find an empty couch and pass out, hm?” you asked, and you shivered a bit at the idea of sleeping so close to him. You figured you were drunk enough to let it happen. He nodded and you pulled him to his feet, your smile unwavering.

“Josh called you his girl at the Panera yesterday,” Scott said. He had ketchup on the corner of his mouth. “And he said you guys did stuff at Peter’s party.”

“No he didn’t,” you retorted, a bit incredulous and a bit embarrassed, maybe, like you didn’t want to be the kind of girl that was Josh’s girl.

“Really, he did. There’s this guy on the team, Toby; he can’t keep his mouth shut about anything.”

“I’m not his girl,” you stated, stony. 

“Yeah, I mean, sure, but he still said it.” You gave Scott a laced glare. Stiles’ hotdog was going cold in his hand. He grimaced.

“I told you,” he murmured, finally taking a bite.

Near the end of June, Kenny and Bree got froyo. He kissed her on the cheek; that’s when he first said I love you. She licked his spoon clean. You saw it from your car. Lydia said ew and then she stuck out her tongue and asked if you could take her home.

Under the surface, Stiles spun in and out of himself, choking on a laugh before he jolted up for air. You were always better at holding your breath. Once, when he was eleven and you were eleven and your older brother Joey was twelve, you won the who-can-stay-underwater-for-the-longest-no-breathing contest by ten whole seconds. You got the last cherry popsicle. Everything post that was a lot less climactic. 

He grabbed you by the shoulders, pulling you back up with a rough tug.

“Okay, no! You for sure went down after me that time.” You pushed him back, swiping at the water.

“You’re such a sore loser!” His hair was matted to his forehead. It was his youngest moment in years, reveling in whatever the sun and the grass dew and the chlorine provided. He gave you another dilated look, more defiant than before. “If you’d just admit I’m better then we could move on.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t tell bold-faced lies.” He swiped back, splashing your face. “Plus, you’re way too cocky.”

“I’m not cocky, I just won, you ass.” Your next splash was over-zealous. Stiles coughed on pool water, but he did it with upturned lips, fighting another laugh. Sometimes, though, when he was smiling and laughing and getting splashed in the face, you’d think of the time he’d cracked his head open on the blue tile when was seven, and how he’d cried so hard you thought you might puke.

You faltered, slipping a bit as you waded over to the ladder. You glanced over your shoulder. He was pushing the hair from his forehead, stationary.

“No round four?” He pouted.

“No round four!” You grabbed your towel, checking your phone. “Scott’s gonna be here in ten. Did you warn him about Lottie?” 

“Why would I warn him?”

“Because she’s in love with him and he’s going to take his shirt off.”

“She’s thirteen!” Stiles splashed around carelessly, moving to the edge of the pool.

“Thirteen and insatiable, yeah. She won’t stop asking me about him now that he and Allison broke up.” This, you thought, and showed glaringly in your twist of features, was silly, since it was one of those things, something you’d known all too well in your youth, where it didn’t matter if the guy had a girlfriend or was married or just madly in love; for Charlotte, it was a fantasy, just like it was for you with Stiles.

“I think Scott can handle himself against your little sister.” He pulled himself out of the pool. You looked away; it felt ambiguously wrong. You decided to stop inviting him over for a swim.

“Insatiable,” you repeated, making sure to enunciate slowly. “You want food?” Stiles scoffed.

“Like you ever have to ask.” He slumped down into a patio chair, reaching lazily for his towel, splayed across the table. You only ever tolerated his disorganization because he was so boyish and appealing with it most of the time, only occasionally acting annoyingly unaware. “Can you make sandwiches? I love when you make sandwiches.”

“Yeah, sure.” Your phone buzzed. Lydia was entranced by a collegiate asshole named Rick Bigabsshinycar, which she didn’t shut up about for at least a week “You want the crusts cut off those, little guy?” He spat out a laugh, ironic, and gave you a playful expression of un-amusement. Of course, he ended up making his own sandwich.

Lydia said that her first time was with Jackson. She said it hurt more than she had expected it to, and that he wasn’t very attentive, not in the way she would’ve liked. But she also said that she loved him with all of her guts, all innards and organs, so it didn’t matter how horrible it had been. She still thought back on it fondly.

“You could try it with Stiles. He definitely would,” she remarked, running the pads of her fingers along her new manicure. “But then, of course, you could never just be his friend again, so you’d have to deal with that, which I don’t think you want to do.”

You shook your head, sweating at this idea, but she was looking elsewhere, in her own mind too much to observe you.

“Like with Scott and Allison,” she said. “They’ll never just be friends, even if they talk. It’ll always be different, you know? I bet it’ll be worse with Stiles too, since he’s so neurotic.” 

This was a dilemma you had never been forced to face. It stung you thoroughly and left you aching. 

Scott picked Roadhouse for movie night, which you always thought was super macho, but ended up coming back around in this overly-sensitive, girly way that only self-obsessed man films can achieve. Still, he was Scott, so when the movie was funny he laughed and when the movie was serious he laughed again.

“I watched this with my dad when I was a kid,” he said, mouth full of popcorn. He was always eating, savage.

“The sex?” you questioned. “The violence?” Your voice raised in volume. Scott shrugged.

“It’s not the same for boys,” Stiles chimed in, academic in tone. “We’re exposed to these things at an early age. That’s what gives us the cooties and over-zealous sex drives.”

“Ew.” You grimaced, deciding against another handful of popcorn. 

“It’s true,” Scott agreed. “If I hadn’t watched Roadhouse, I’d probably be celibate. I mean, who knows if I would’ve ever even wanted a girlfriend.” You doubted, furrowing. 

“Yeah, but it's not just about sex. There’s emotional stuff there too.”

“Sex emotions,” said Stiles. He shot you a popcorn-littered grin. You shoved his gleeful face, palm against his cheek, and he chuckled, tossing a few kernels in your direction. He fought back with no spine, limp as your hand drifted to his shoulder before dropping back to your lap. “I’m serious! It’s a lot more important for us than it is for you.”

“Sure, but that doesn’t mean that watching Roadhouse at infancy permanently alters your brain chemistry.”

“It doesn’t have to be Roadhouse,” Scott added, waving his hand over Stiles’ head, pointing at you vaguely. “Could be, like, porn or something really scary. Poltergeist or Jaws.”

“It’s puberty,” you said. He dropped his arm, frowning. “And I know that you weren’t just with Allison because you wanted to sleep with her.” You fiddled with your thumbs, Stiles noticing with a held glance. “That was love.”

“God, now you’re the gross one,” Stiles groaned. Patrick Swayze kicked ass in your periphery. Without drawing focus, he pulled one of your hands away, stopping the fidgeting. “Do we really have to talk about love during movie night?” He crossed his arms, head falling back on the couch. 

“I think it’s important to be candid about your emotions with your friends.” Stiles returned the face shove you’d given him, playfully pushing you away and sticking out his tongue with a big blegh. He threw you off center, and you grabbed onto the arm of the couch to adjust. 

“Course I loved her. The point is that I still wanted to you know with her, like, all the time, which was only because of the culture, A.K.A. Roadhouse, slash all that other dude stuff I saw as a kid.” Scott didn’t talk about his father a lot. As the conversation continued, you saw yourself in a bad light, wondering if you really just weren’t part of the hivemind in the same way that he and Stiles were. You felt stale, like heels clicking down a tile hall, stiff and unsmooth. 

“Whatever,” you drawled, turning back to the screen. “I just think that sex isn’t as all-consuming as people make it out to be.” You reached over Stiles’ lap for the popcorn bowl. “And I definitely don’t think that Roadhouse has anything to do with child sexual development.”

“This is why we never should’ve made friends with a girl. It’s actually revolting how sweet you are,” Stiles spat out through a bothered facade. You knew he found you novel.

“I’m not sweet!” Your argument fell flat when you tossed a palm of popcorn in your mouth, muffling your protests.

“It’s a good thing,” Scott assured. “You’re like a friendly bird.”

“Oh, yeah! Like a canary. You remind me of a canary,” Stiles said, shooting you another popcorn grin. He smelled uncharacteristically mall-esque, something you suddenly noticed as you re-adjusted, scooting a bit closer to him. It was one of those things you cataloged to your constant string of evidence that he thought about you, that he wanted to smell good because he knew you’d be able to tell. “Don’t worry, we love you just the way you are,” he teased, patting your shoulder. 

The rest of the movie was a lot of the same, and then a whole different argument about condiments, and then another about Kenny’s new haircut, which Stiles adamantly despised while Scott was mostly impartial, maybe leaning a little on the positive side at certain points. 

Later, Stiles’ fell asleep on your shoulder, and Scott reacted with a quiet laugh, saying, let him stay there, I think he’s been having nightmares.

stiles 9:56 p.m. lydia is dating a college guy?! u shud have told me wtfff

Kenny called you, drunk, late, on a Sunday. It was right after you got off work. On work: things were averagely stilted with Josh, and he didn’t bother you much. Sometimes you caught him looking at the back of your neck, though, and so you knew he still wanted you at least a little carnally.

“Can you pick me up,” Kenny asked, mumbling. He hadn’t spoken to you since he’d dropped off a few miscellaneous belongings at the start of summer. The way you missed him felt almost pavlovian.

“No.” You stared at the crack in your ceiling, limbs splayed out across your bed.

“Please, ohmygodohmygod, please please, it’s so late, please,” he said. “I know you want to,” he slurred, an attempt at cheeky.

“Can I hang up now?” You knew that if he passed out on a bench and swallowed his own puke you’d blame yourself forever. 

“Wait! Come on, come on, I miss you,” he whispered, and you could tell he was getting closer to the phone. “I miss you, really. Can you come pick me up?”

“I don’t have a car,” you admitted, shivering. Before he called, you had been thinking about Stiles, about how his hair might feel under your fingers, how his shirt might look draped over the back of your chair, that sort of stuff. Still wistful, you meandered in the conversation.

“Since when?” You sighed momentarily, picturing the way Kenny used to love you, to look at you with love, and say it all the time, even if he didn’t mean it for every one.

“Since it broke down in May.”

“Take your mom’s. Take the van. I just really need a ride, okay?”

“I’m not stealing the van while she’s sleeping.” He scoffed faintly from the other end, pausing to think, you thought. You hung onto the phone, glancing over at the night shone through your window. You liked the view from the house at night, with the quiet street and grass lawns, all generally manicured, comfortingly monotonous.

“What about Stiles? Can you get Stiles to do it?”

“Do you seriously not have other people you can call?”

“No, and stop being such a bitch about it.” His tone made you feel dirty, like there was a layer of grime on your skin that you couldn’t scratch off. It was nearly nauseating to talk to him so casually, to want him so little, and still have to hear his voice.

“Yeah, good luck,” you murmured, hanging up.

To: stiles 11:47 p.m. don’t worry he’s ugly 11:49 p.m. also kenny just called supa drunk. blerguh

You hadn’t masturbated since Kenny dumped you. Lydia said it was good for the soul, but she was too candid about things, and sometimes you thought she was wrong anyways, no matter how much she seemed to mean it. It all felt unbalanced. The desire to have sex with Stiles became more emotional as the weeks went on, and the physical part of your wants fell to the background. Besides, if you did think about him when you did that sort of thing, you always felt a bit nasty after and wished you had just searched for some semi-artsy softcore, not that it ever did much as a replacement. 

Stiles sat vacantly on the end of your bed most nights, staring off into space, murmuring softly to himself, glancing down at you every so often. He never touched you, too far to reach out for, but when you woke up in a jolt he’d be sitting there, back hunched over, chin in his palms, smiling like he knew everything all the time. 

Lydia always wanted you over early to help with party set ups; her new solo cups were pink, which you found way too exuberant for the sort of night it was, too birthday, but took them out of the bag and set them on the counter nonetheless. She was still curling her hair, huffing every few minutes, teasing and spraying and wetting and drying and brushing, clearly tempted to rip it all straight out.

“You didn’t invite Stiles did you?” She put down the iron, fussing with her ends, looking at you through the mirror.

“Was I not supposed to?”

“He just lame-ifys the atmosphere, you know?”

Once people filled out the space, Lydia got lost in it. You sat on the couch, crossed-legged, staring at conversations. You held your cup with two hands. Your legs felt cold. You had invited Stiles, but he’d said maybe, a foreign response for a Lydia party. He wanted to be her arm guy, her arm-around-the shoulder-at-a-party-leaning-on-the-wall-all-suave guy, with a smirk and a confidence that always evaded him. His intense distaste of social gatherings never kept him from her, not until the maybe.

“Where’s your lover?” Kenny had a blazer on. It was his occasion blazer. He washed it once a month even if he didn’t wear it and always kept it ironed. He was holding a real beer, not just a half-empty pink solo cup that was stained with lipstick and spit. 

“Who?” You glanced over quickly, refusing to turn to the side to give him a proper look. 

“Stiles, obviously.” He shifted uncomfortably in your periphery. You closed your eyes, lips pursed.

“Why are you here? Lydia hates you.” He banged the tip of his shoe against the foot of the couch a few times, flittering.

“I wanted to say sorry about calling you, for saying all that stuff, and I just figured you’d be here.” There was a rush when he implied that he had been thinking about you. It had been days, nearly a week, you thought. You pictured him roasting in guilt at all hours, pushing away a smile.

“Well, I really would’ve preferred a text, so,” you drifted, glaring from behind your hair, head downturned. You picked at the hem of your skirt.

“Can I sit?” He waved his beer at the place beside you. Finally deciding to look at him fully, your eyes caught on his short hair, freshly cut. In response you shrugged, biting your cheek.

Stiles showed up two and a half hours after the time posted on Facebook, which was a half an hour before people were supposed to show up anyway, so he was only around two hours late, not two and a half, but it still felt rude and little like he was doing it all just to spite you. Why he’d ever want to piss you off, you were entirely unsure. It seemed, though, as Kenny talked your ear off about how he had gotten so drunk that night and why he had decided to bother you about it, that it was the ultimate purgatory after all.

“Bree, she’s got a convict dad, you know? He’s out now but he was locked up when she was a kid, so she’s a huge drinker. She loves to drink and she hates when the people around her don’t feel the same. I just got so caught up in it; you get that, yeah? Getting caught up in stuff? I do it all the time, leads to the worst shit. Once, I stole a tow truck on a dare, you know, because I was so high after this party, and I almost got arrested.” He had gained a bit of weight, maybe muscle, since you’d gotten a good look at him last. His nose less thin, cheeks less gaunt: he was more objectively attractive than he’d ever been, but a bit more intimidating, too.

“A tow truck?”

“Yeah, one of those little ones.” He sipped down something big before tilting his bottle off into the distance. “Your lover,” he indicated. Stiles was wearing black jeans and a fat frown, looking at you, his hand on Scott’s shoulder, tapping incessantly.

“Why do you keep saying that?”

“That he’s your lover?” Kenny circled the beer bottle on his kee, tilting his head side to side. “Well, mostly because you’re in love with him, but also a little because I like seeing the face you make,” he smiled, “like that, yeah.”

You furrowed: “I’m not.” Your lipgloss was starting to feel tacky, separating around the little cracks on your lips, the ones you struggled not to bite off. Scott dragged Stiles into the kitchen. 

Kenny laughed: “Okay.” You could feel him staring at the side of your face, the heat of it. He put his hand on your shoulder, fingers prickling up the side of your neck, teasing the nape. “You look really pretty tonight,” he murmured, breath warm.

“I think Kenny wants to fuck me,” you told Lydia, refilling your cup. “He touched my neck, like, sensually.”

“I’m opposed to the idea that Kenny can do anything sensually.” She messed with the hair on the back of your head, tossing it around before flattening it back down again. “But you know I don’t like him.” Her hand pressed into your elbow, a sign to stop pouring. She had pity face when you met her eyes. “If you’re going to fuck someone tonight, make it Stiles.”

“You don’t like Stiles either.” 

“I like him more than Kenny, and so do you.” Her lips pressed together, narrowing tentatively. “Also, like, your summer ennui is getting really old and I just think you should do something exciting with your life.”

“My summer ennui?” You drank. Warmth invaded your self-imposed isolation. 

“Yeah, I don’t know. You just seem kind of depressed right now and I think fucking Stiles would be good for you.” You scowled at her from behind the sanctity of your drink.

Stiles had his arms crossed in the family room. Harley and Josie and Steve from pre-calc made up a mini-conversation circle around him, Scott glued to his side. He spotted you once you entered the room, your heeled shoes causing you to stumble through the archway, confidence wavering. Kenny had wandered, and you supposed that you feared him, what he might try to initiate, eyes skirting the perimeter.

“Hey!” Stiles broke the circle to jog over to you. “Hey, I’m here!”

“Yeah, I can see that you’re here.” He vibrated on his feet. “You should try to find Lydia. That college guy just dumped her and she’s super drunk.”

“The ugly one?” Even inquisitive, he seemed oddly disinterested, like he was just floating around the topic, not caring to collide.

“No, I just said that to make you feel better. He was really hot.” Your heels burned, and the atmosphere felt dizzying. Stiles laughed. He beamed.

“Hey, so, why were you and Kenny talking earlier?” His brow creased, something to dig into. 

“Well, I think he wants to have sex with me, but I’m not really sure why. He can be cryptic.” You were a blunt drunk. Stiles wrinkled his eyes with a hesitant annoyance, biting the inside of his cheek. He was buzzing, hands twitching, noticing your detachment, eyes in a constant spiral.

“You think you’ll do it? If he tries.” The question was kryptonite. You wanted to melt at his feet. He chewed at some dry skin on his bottom lip, and you knew this was a whole different purgatory, one far more tailored.

“You mean, have sex with him? Are you really asking me that?” Stiles wasn’t the sort of boy you discussed your sexuality with. Even though you’d trust him with your beating heart in his palms, he got sweaty when he remembered you had a vagina, and there were things you knew to keep concealed. He smiled on one side, tilting his head with an inward chuckle.

“Yeah, I don’t know. Sure.”

“Well, no, I won’t. He dumped me.” You wondered if he could see you in a form that weak. Everything withered, and Stiles seemed disheartened. Trivial things were allowed in the summer. In the summer, it was okay to be sixteen. 

“Yeah, course, I know I just–”

“I don’t like Kenny anymore.” You took a sip of your drink, concealing your growing urgency, everything bubbling in your throat. “He’s a dick,” you explained, swallowing hard. Stiles had a bit of a vacant thing, hollow, mind in another room. 

“I’m aware,” Stiles barked, half sardonic and half like he had somehow been scorned. The party surrounded like hounds, shoving, forming a mass. It felt like the room was caving in, something inherently uneasy about the way he spoke to you and the way he looked you in the eye. He bit his tongue.

“You’re aware?” 

“Yeah, I’m aware.” He teetered on his left foot, pressing hard into the floor. He glanced down at your drink. “He said some stuff, like, a few months ago, when you guys were still dating. I just don’t like him, whatever.”

“Some stuff?”

“Yeah, like, dumb shit. I just–” he caught himself. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Your face is telling me that it does.” You grinned for a moment, toothless, and he scoffed. In dreamland, Stiles uttered, he called you easy, a slut, so I sucker punched him, grabbed him by the collar, and told him never to talk about you like that again, because I’ve loved you since we were little, and I’m also infallible, by the way. Your throat burned. His mouth hung agape for a moment, expecting some sort of out, but failed to find escape.

“He was jealous,” Stiles admitted, scratching at the back of his hand. “Just, don’t talk to him anymore, okay?”

He had never commanded you, not once, not really. If he did, he was joking, or he wasn’t, but you were, and it didn’t end up mattering. Despite the way he’d wavered around his vague notions of a prior argument, playing it off as another quickly passing mishap in what was, knowing him, a haphazard day, his voice was flat, mouth tight. You gave him a withering look, stepping back unconsciously. You shook your head, and you were leaning harder on one foot, oblivious to a piece of hair hanging down into your eyes. It wasn’t the time for dynamics to shift.

“Why are you being weird?”

He countered, moving forward: “I’m not being weird,” he reached out.

“Yes, you are. Stop it.” He ran his palm over his forehead in exasperation.

“I’m sorry, but I just don’t like that you’re talking to him again.” His hands gestured at his sides, emphatic. He was a few decibels away from exclaiming, only hushed in fear of you scurrying away. You shook your head again, a few times, indignant.

“Don’t be an ass, Stiles.”

“Me, an ass? Kenny is the one who dumped you so he could fuck other girls!” Your ears rang. Drunkenness hadn’t quite hit you until his tone raised. You thought that, yes, you agreed with Lydia. If you let him stick it in right there and then, it might feel therapeutic in some sense, gaining back control. Still, he had big, brown eyes and they were wet and they were open and he was staring, almost beastly, hand outstretched. Something struck him, and he surged forward. “Hey, no–”

“Whatever.” You pushed past him, needing a nap. In dreamland, he grabbed you back by the wrist, pulled you in, gripped your waist, kissed you as hard as he could without tongue, and told you it was love for him too. There was no beckoning call, just “Dancing On My Own” and a bundle of roaring laughs. You huffed to yourself, finding the hallway, setting down your drink, and leaning against the console table, trying not to heave.

Kenny rediscovered you in Lydia’s guest room, your face stuffed into a throw pillow, eyes leaving smudged black marks, even though you would've denied that you ever cried. You could hear that it was him, his chunky shoes and dragging feet entirely emblematic of his hardened core.

“It wasn’t me, was it?” He sat down on the end of the bed, glancing at his lap.

“No,” you muttered, leaning up on your elbows. He still had his beer.

“Ah,” he spoke, nearly spat. “So, Stilinski?” There was a moment of silence, as if this idea angered you, and a tense feeling surrounded your shoulders and your neck. 

“What did you say to him?” you questioned, sitting up to lean back against the headboard. Kenny’s brows pinched together.

“What?”

“Stiles said you told him something, when we were still together, that you were jealous.”

Kenny pondered on this, his lips twisting up strangely. Half of you thought he might hold you down by the hips and lie about love again, but he only shook his head, smiling crookedly to himself.

“Course I was jealous. You want to be with him.”

Post-party, you didn’t speak to Stiles for days. Lydia, in infinite tact, was right. Kenny didn’t seem to want to talk either: no calls or texts or handwritten letters. He very well could’ve fucked you that night, if he had been more kind and less insistent on your priorities. Mostly, you spent time with your sisters and mowed the lawn. Once, you saw a movie with a friend from cross country.

stiles 11:34 p.m. are u mad at me?

“I’m not mad at you, Stiles.” He was a bad phone call. He talked entirely too much, and since there was no physical manifestation of him beside you in bed, you couldn’t punch him in the shoulder or send him a glare to shut him up. 

“You seem mad.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“You ran away from me. I pissed you off.”

“You didn’t piss me off. I was just drunk.” You sighed, glancing at the clock. Monday loomed ominously in the corner of your eyes. There was a residual ache from the colder months, even though work often broke the boundaries of weekend rest. “I left because I didn’t want to be mad. I wasn’t mad.”

“But you would’ve been?”

“Stiles,” you chided, rubbing your hairline.

“I’m reasonably concerned! I didn't want to make you angry; I was just being honest. I mean, the guy is a complete fucking loser, he doesn’t care about you, but he does you the small kindness of striking up a conversation and you just, what, forgive him?” His voice cracked over the line. Your thumb hovered inadvertently over the red button, but you knew it to be some greater sign, your muscles pushing you to pull the plug.

“I don’t forgive him,” you muttered, about to retort with something like you don’t understand or it’s not like that, but he very much did understand and it was, in fact, very much like that. Being wanted was a bliss more intense and all-consuming than a fresh cherry slushie. “And it’s not really any of your business,” you added on, trying to find your edge.

A groan ripped out of him, but he’d taken a step back from the phone, so it came to you muffled and softer than intended.

“What is the deal with you and assholes?” he asked, incredulous. 

Kenny wasn’t the asshole that Stiles made him out to be. He had a conflicting household, and you were sure the weed had been getting to his brain. He was just a rodent. You were too simple for his universe, too concise, and you were in love with your friend, which you didn’t think helped any. In the smaller moments, Kenny saw you in a pure way, and he admired that. He liked you. You wondered if Stiles found that perverse.

“Are you jealous?” you threw back, too in the heat of it to consider the implications. You had to remind yourself that this wasn't dreamland, and he wouldn’t be at your window, saying yes, I'm jealous, because I love you like hell, so can we kiss now, finally? You choked on a breath waiting for him to reply, which took a while. You could hear him thinking into the phone, a wavering “uh” spilling out.

“What?”

Considering a path to take, a way to flip this on its head, you stuttered, “I–”, swallowing, “it’s just that, no one wanted me before, when we were younger, but they do now. I mean, I have a life and you’re acting like it’s a sin or something.”

“That’s not true.” He was even.

“Yes, it is! You keep berating me for–”

“No, no, the thing about no one wanting you before, it’s not true.” This you clocked as a play on his part, a way to defuse your tone. He knew, of course, that when he said something sweet, you’d get soft and forgive him forever, because you always forgave him forever. The pit in your stomach boiled.

“That’s not my point.”

“But it is your point, and it’s not true, so your entire argument is null. I know for a fact that Drew Pike had a huge thing for you in fourth grade, so much so that he asked me, who he despised intensely, if you liked him back. Sure, I said no, because Drew was a mouth breather and wasn’t nearly enough of a gentleman, but still.”

You scoffed: “That doesn’t count.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s dumb, and it’s just one small example amidst sixteen years of barren landscape.” You felt that you urgently needed to stand up, take space from the phone, and pace circles around your room for a few hours, or maybe until you wore down your socks into thin strips of unwearable fabric, feet bleeding. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” you confirmed, stale.

“Well, I do. Are you with him now?”

“Drew Pike? No, he moved to Texas, and I think that ship sailed.”

“Kenny,” he spat, firm. “Did you get back together with Kenny?” He had a tone to him that you were unfamiliar with, something sharp and awful, something like you’d seen at the beach, or at Peter’s party.

“No, Stiles, I didn't get back together with Kenny. I told you, I don’t like him anymore.”

“Yeah, well–” he breathed heavily, “well, good.” You knew he wouldn’t be saying those things if he could understand how much you wanted him, how much you didn’t mind his poor tendencies or his social miscalculations. You knew he’d hang up the phone and never spend another night with his sleeping head on your tired shoulder. The nail of your thumb scratched at your knuckles hard, picking and peeling and biting bad.

“Awesome. I’m going to bed.” You ended the call without a goodnight.

[aristia-pjoheadcanons]

hi✨adore your thoughts and headcanons to the moon and back with how detailed and in character they are. dark!percy has always been incredibly alluring and fascinating, so I was wondering about your presentation/analysis of him. if you're comfortable (if not, it's totally okay and just ignore it!), could you write percy and child of any "dark" like hades, or hecate, nyx (or whoever) god, who understands how scary and tough it can be when you and your powers are so destructive, and they help him to kinda adjust to this side of him and understand that he isn't a bad person for that (cause this guy already has a lot of self hatred). maybe kinda chaotic dumbass enemies to lovers? sfw or nswf - whatever works for you. sorry for this ramble! just so many thoughts about him...

hope you have a good time of a day🤟

DARK!Percy headcanons

authors note: Can I just say, I've been WAITING for a question like this. More Dark Percy headcanons everyone!! plss!!

warnings: mentions of abuse & neglect, suicidal and intrusive thoughts, impulsive thoughts, mentions of eating disorder, chaotic family life, Gabe Ugliano...

okay, this is a mixture of headcanons of his CHILDHOOD but also an ANALYSIS of DARK PERCY.

cigarette burns from Gabe. Not just because Gabe did it, some of Gabes older friends (a long time ago, before the lightning theaf book) told Percy to come closer and burnt it into his forearm. Gabes eyes turned into shock but then he poked a tongue in his cheek and scoffed in laughter, giving Percy a judgemental look - *its a classic look, the type of look you give someone when you're looking down on them.

Percy would be so angry at Gabe, sometimes he would snap and tell him to shut up because Gabe would watch TV late in the night and fall asleep with the TV on until morning. At some point, Percy opened the door and screamed on the top of his lungs to shut the fuck up, slamming the door, sleep deprived and exhausted, locking the bedroom door bc he was scared Gabe would do something - and sobbed loudly. He was just a kid, but he already learnt how to fight. Sally tried to give reassurance but Percy wouldnt open the door. The incident was deemed "nightmares" on Percy's part, and Sally let him sleep in her bed.

Sally and Gabe never shared a bed. Gabe snores, sometimes even has nightmares, other time she would bother Sally about a new babyboy they could have, as if Percy wasn't good enough to be his son.

One time Sally asked Percy if he ever wanted siblings. the truth is, yes, but with Gabe Ugliano? no way. fuck no. He said no in a really moody and almost bitchy way, and walked out of the house and went to school.

Percy had the habit of keeping his shoulders scrunched up when he slept. He still does, but he doesn't understand why his body tenses up when he sleeps - Gabe isn't there anymore.

He also had the habit of lowering his head, shoulders and hunching when he walked - but once he met Annabeth over the summer he kept his back more straight - and never hanged his head when he walked. He noticed and felt more relief.

When people asked what he was doing for the summer, weight was lifted off his shoulders when he said SUMMER CAMP - finally he had something to do during summer! Every kid in school went somewhere nice, now even Percy does. He felt like he could finally share a bit of the same intrests as everyone else. He could actually tell people about his summer.

You know when the teacher forces everyone to tell a little bit about their summer - now finally percy could say confidendtly he did somethign fun instead of making something up.

struggles with anger, but understand it got so bad he broke his own first laptop 3.5months of having it - he broke the screen in half with his bare hands. He regretted it so much and hid it but his Sally found out.

Regrettfully, this made Percy believe he would always ruin/sabotage things for himself, and that he doesn't deserve nice things. Letting his mother buy his clothes, never aksing for new clothes... whats the point?

Besides, Gabe was stingy with his money. Gabe even refused to buy shampoo which is stupid cause its cheap asf - but Gabe wanted the feeling of control.

the dynamic of the family and house changed. The living room was Gabes, not Sally and Percy's spot. Gabe even took Percy's side of the couch and his spot at the dining table. Percy stubbornly refused to move, but Gabe is scary and big for his size so he did it to be civil for his mother. He felt like he lost something that day.

When Gabe was out late, Percy would lock the door and put the chain on. Gabe would unlock the door and try to get inside, but the chain stopped him. Gabed huffed in frustration and Sally had to get up and open the door - which burned Percys heart because he realized that nothing could keep Gabe out.

Percy would generally be a very bitter person to be around, people would shy away from him and sometimes stop talking when he tried to join in.

self image, self-confidence and self respect was low. But actually scratch that, his self respect was high. he put boundaries down pretty fast with other people because he knew everything that gabe did was no, and everything that sally did was yes. but at some point he disliked Sallys touch just slightly bit, because he knew Gabe had held her hand earlier.

he would talk to sally for hours on the couch, but as soon as the door clicked opened he walked to his room and closed the door. He didnt want to be near gabe. but then gabe started to trash his room, and percy was basically forced to sit in the living room.

he felt like he was playing "family" or pretending everything was okay, as if Gabe wasn't neglectful, but he felt sick.

At some point Percy's anxiety and stress because to normalized within himself that he nowadays cant tell what anxiety even is - and he would sometimes even say hes never had anxiety, because its basically been with him from such a young age, he cant tell the difference.

pretending to be "family" was even worse walking around the mall with sally and gabe. gabe was just this big giant slob of goo that would follow everywhere, and gabe would even huff and puff shamelessly if they were taking too long. gabe even got angry if sally found something nice for herself, he was possesive.

started taking only an apple with him to lunch, 1. he thought he was fat. 2. gabe wouldnt buy anything he liked and they had to stick with the basics. 3.his lunch was embarrassing even though everyone ate cafeteria food.

he got so happy the first time he could bring something "normal" to eat or if he got money to buy lunch, his reason being that he could finally "blend in" insteading standing out as a "freak".

he has a burn mark on the backside of his ankle, near his achillies, burn himself bc of Gabe.

hates it if someone traces the cigarette scars on his arm, even hates it if Annabeth does it - he still struggles with his self image and probably wont like that part of himself until he grows old and gray.

one time he vented to someone about his childhood and they stopped talking to him. never spoke ever since, was afraid that someone would use it against him. hasn't even told his mom or sally half of the things Gabe said or did to him/behind his back.

one time gabe pissed on the clothes percy was wearing but blaimed it on percy. ofc his mother believed percy but it was still shameful for percy.

in second book of sea of monsters, a kid asked if percy let his mother buy his clothes - actually stopped letting his mother buy clothes for him after that.

he would naturally adopt people that were outcasts and be a friend - because people were rarely there for him when he needed it.

needs validation, but couldnt get it from school. his friends would praise him but he could barely accept those compliments because at the end of the day he was still a loser too.

his mother would be his studdy buddy, and tried to help percy with homework - but still found everything hard.

gabe got angry with percy would "dirtying everything" but Gabes the only reason why his mom has to clean daily.

Dark Percy would definitely develop from a young age, but it became a lot more present behind the scene of the books.

he desires comofort, safety and a space where he can be himself without having to walk on his toes around the place.

Honestly, NSFW

He suppresses his moans because he was used to being quiet when he was around Gabe.

He has jacked off quietly, watched any videos quietly, no sound and even with headphones get sscared that someone might hear.

One time he stayed up late bc of whatever reasons and his stepfather Gabe yelled "GO TO BED", the next morning Gabe complained about how loud Percy was when Percy was away at school (this was early middle school, school wasnt that far away). And his mother Sally defended him and said she believes that Percy goes to bed when he should/when she tells him to, this made Percy feel bad so he went to bed on time every since, or at least tried too. If he ever stayed up, he learn how to breathe quietly too.

The feeling of shame for touching yourself, feeling pleasure, and arousal was strongly in him from a certain age - Gabe's influence for even trying to be HAPPY or LAUGHING with his mother made him feel shame for any good feeling sexual or not.

[ngage2003]

✰ Some of Gage's Tim Wright DID Headcanons/Ideas (DIDeas, hey get it?)

Ok so I have talked a fair bit on my blog about Tim being a system, but I wanted to make a post real quick talking about several ideas I have around his systemhood bc I am going crazy and need to share them.

✦ Hey! If you like this and want to hear more about my Tim system stuff, check out my tag #ng.systim.

Alright, so I think a lot of/most of Tim's system has been around for a very long time, as in he doesn't split too often. Usually when they do, parts end up getting reabsorbed, leading to a very small system count that the active parts are aware of.

(Of course, there are always some parts hiding in headspace/the subconscious, but they're impossible to find unless they want to be.)

I think Tim's system doesn't have a headspace in the stereotypical sense, and generally when they're not fronting, it is sort of like they're asleep, though I think people like Masky would object to that characterization because he doesn't ever really sleep/dream. Usually when he goes to bed, Tim wakes up.

✱ Speaking of "Masky"! I have talked about this a couple times but I think he would end up going by the name "Angel" after hearing about the concept of Guardian Angels, as that is literally what he is to Tim. I also see him as a sort of "Protector" archetype, having formed probably around the same time that Tim did as a young child and acting to take on dealing with the trauma for him.

I think Masky's femininity comes from the fact that they (the system as a whole) as a young child idolized their mother as this protective force, this bulwark that was impenetrable and fierce and powerful. They tied all that to her femininity to some extent, and when Masky formed, they were feminine because that was what they associated with strength and protection.

I think Tim and Masky are somewhat equals though, but Masky is also deeply in love with Tim in the way only a protector alter can be. "My purpose is to keep you safe and I love you for it." It is this genuine deep affection, and I think if Tim were to discover Masky, there could be some proper feelings returned eventually after the initial scare.

"Ok but if Masky loves Tim so much why does he work with Brian and get their leg broken??"

Well, I think Brian was both of their first best friend. Whenever Tim was overstimulated and/or scared, whether that be by people or an upcoming final, Masky would front. Brian obviously didn't know this and was just like, "huh wow my buddy Tim is being weird and quiet!" And his kindness left a profound effect on Masky.

Early in Marble Hornets, Masky visits Brian's house regularly despite him being long gone, locking it when he isn't there. Yeah it is a mess, but its being watched over.

I think Brian approached him after Jay got the tapes to ask for his help. I think before then, Brian was in hiding but this isn't a post about him. I think despite being a protector, Masky agreed to help Brian because of how kind he was to him, a mistake he later fully rescinds when Brian causes Tim to have a seizure.

Masky deeply regrets this, and is in turmoil after it for the rest pf the series, leading to their spotty fronting besides protecting Tim in Entry 65 after once again being triggered out by seizures.

Ok that is enough rehashing of other older points lets talk about the idea of— ✱ Other Parts

I think its very possible that Tim at least has a little alter. I haven't given it too much thought, but I think there is stuff hidden around their living space for the little¹, crayons and pencils and spare papers, these doodles hidden under the bed. I also think they have a stuffed animal from when Tim was a kid at one, something Tim keeps meaning to throw out but always ends up back in bed.

[1] An alter/part that earnestly believes they are and acts younger than the body. They aren't real kids but often will experience distress at being reminded of that or not treated like a kid, and generally will struggle with emotional reasoning or processing stuff, as a child might. Often they're the most protected members of a system.

I think there is probably several points where they accidentally front in front of other people, but Tim's little is very anxious and quiet, leading to them being undetected.

I could honestly see them fronting while Tim and Jay are living at motels for that brief period of time, and Jay just being confused why Tim suddenly got emotional and started crying a bit and not communicating. (The little doesn't have their plush and is upset.)

Jay ends up sitting with him and rubbing his back, and it feels like such a crazy thing to do with Tim of all people—stalwart, endlessly brave Tim—but Jay does it, and it helps.

I think Jay doesn't mention it tomorrow because he doesn't want to upset/embarrass Tim and quite obviously, Tim doesn't remember.

I think Tim's childhood stuffed animal is a dog of some kind, and he simply forgot to bring it.

Alsooo I do not think Tim's system really has introjects²? (I say this mostly because I don't know what the fuck media they'd be from lmao.) But I do think there is an alter which holds more of the musical talent between them all. Not all of it, but they just remember more. I think they also know how to play piano along with ukulele and if given the chance they'd love to make little ditties to impress people.

[2] Alters whose personalities are based off of an interpretation of a character held by another specific alter or the general subconscious. Sometimes they think of themselves literally as the character but not always.

I don't have a name for them, as I don't really either for the little, but this bard I think would enjoy dressing a bit more colorful than Tim usually does.

Also could see them having a very aggressive persecutor³-trauma holder alter who split off of Masky during when they were in the hospital. Generally I think Masky was even more aggressive during this time due to his system feeling so threatened and dehumanized and him feeling powerless to protect/take care of them, and it resulted in a very harsh split after Masky lit the fire in the hospital to escape. This led to them "chilling out" a bit for college, but also a very aggressive persecutor who lurks in the back of their mind.

[3] Put it simply, a protector who doesn't know how to be a protector. Persecutors are often very angry about the trauma and very hurt, leading to them lashing out and trying to reenact trauma or push people away or whatever. They tend to be very emotional and hurt, and its important to empathize with them as a way to help them heal. Unfortunately no one in systim has done this yet.

I think their appearance in headspace would almost be sort of fiery/charred, this representation of retribution and anger that lashes out when anyone gets close. I could see them also having a mask since they split off from Masky, and were this product of futile rage that developed into something new! Though also obviously their mask would look a bit different. I dunno, that'd be fun.

(For us, if alters split off from one another like that, like if they're a part of that alter which splits off or a specific trauma, they will often look to some degree similar!)

I think they would very rarely front, at least on their own. Masky would be very cautious about that, and about them hurting the body or other people by lashing out. Because even when Masky is helping Brian or angry, he usually still has somewhat enough of a mind to be careful and deep down his main priority is Tim. (Though he doesn't always behave wisely/good and we loveeee a flawed protector 😁)

Anyway yeah those are my main thoughts I am a bit tired rn lol I might rb this with more later I hope you enjoyeddd

[tonkatsubowl]

99+ missed messsages.

jing yuan x femdom!reader nsfw themes (STRAIGHT UP SMUT BAYBEE DONT BE A MINOR). read at your own risk. english isn’t my first language, so please don’t mind the grammatical errors. (っ◞‸◟ c)

⪩ jing yuan can be a little bratty, so our trailblazer decided to punish him.

TERM DIRECTORY ◖y/n: your name ◖e/c: eye color ◖h/c: hair color

➜ jing yuan: ╰(▔∀▔)╯ y/n

➜ jing yuan: y/n y/n y/n y/n y/n

➜ jing yuan: y/n °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

for the past few hours...maybe two hours, your phone had been blowing up constantly from a certain military general. even as you continued on with your mission, your phone was consistently vibrating from the constant messages from jing yuan, who was here to annoy you.

the general quite knew you were out running errands that's related to your mission, but luckily for you (and not so for him), you were almost done with your errands...and finally, delivering the last package, you grabbed your phone, reading a big fat 99+ next to jing yuan's name. he really did spam you.

➜ y/n: what

➜ y/n: i'm literally busy, why are you spamming me?

➜ y/n: i told you to call me if it's an emergency

➜ y/n: you can't just spam me bc youre bored

➜ y/n: i miss you too but wtf

in truth, you really found it adorable. but you just wanted to scold at him for a bit. it didn't actually bother you, but you liked seeing him whine and act all cute over text.

➜ jing yuan: hi lmfao

➜ jing yuan: i just miss you. are you done yet? come home

➜ y/n: hmm

➜ y/n: yeah... i got something for you. a gift.

➜ jing yuan: woah really? bet

really, you just had something mischievous and dirty hidden in your sleeve...

...entering the premises of the general's headquarters, you find him seated at his desk filling out some paperwork. the moment you had entered, you could see that his eyes lit up, despite the fact he was quite a few distances away from the main entrance. you see him getting up from his seat as he walks over to you with open arms.

"y/n!" he greeted, welcoming you home. you could see yanqing formally bowing to you in the background.

"hello," you then murmur in his ear, "stop what you're doing. now."

jing yuan blinked, puzzled as you both embraced each other. he tilted his head, murmuring something back.

"eh? of course. what is it?"

"come with me."

jing yuan would blink before nodding, turning to yanqing and gesturing him to put away the paperwork. he then looked back to you, following you down the corridor, which lead into the bedroom that you both shared.

once the doors had closed behind you, you could hear jing yuan look at you with curiosity.

"eh? am i in trouble? look, i get so bored that i need to spam yo—!?"

you grab the man by the shirt before forcing him down to your height, your lips crashing against his. you didn't spare the man a single second to speak at all, as your free hand rummaged down towards his crotch.

"you brat," you curse, playfully biting against his lip as you slowly lead him to the bed as you two made out. you could taste the blood that protruded from the very minor injury you caused against his lips, "shut up and behave."

jing yuan was such a tease. sometimes he was a brat on purpose so he could be dominated by you like this in the bedroom, but this wasn't something he intentionally planned. but also, he didn't mind it either. he loved this side of you. he loved that you were basically wearing the pants in the relationship when it came to your guys' private life.

"y/n," he murmured, finding himself to fall backwards onto his back against the bed as you straddled him. he breathed heavily, embracing the familiar warmth of your hands as they were going towards his crotch again. you were undoing his pants, immediately taking what belonged to you. and rightfully so.

"shut up. did i say you should speak?"

jing yuan had a mischievous look in his eye as he shook his head, obeying your very command. he watched as you undid his pants successfully, before inviting the tip of his already-erect length into your mouth. you wasted no time.

"this is your punishment for annoying the shit out of me while i'm out working," you say, kissing the sides of his throbbing member, "now you're not allowed to work."

"fuck," he grunted as you took him whole again, breathing heavily. your hot mouth definitely had made his head swirl, causing him to not really think properly at this moment. you were already mindfucking him, and you didn't even do anything but have a little sweet taste of him.

"you're speaking again?" your free hands came to mess with the jewels that hung underneath his length, occupying your mouth with his member once more. you were punishing him, and even if he came, you would keep pleasuring him despite how sensitive he was feeling at this very moment.

jing yuan bit his lip, wanting to apologize, but he couldn't. instead, he breathed, clutching his fingers against the bed sheets of his mattress as you practically sucked the life out of him...and he finally gasped, his legs twitching as he felt the sensation of releasing his seed inside of your mouth just reaching at the top.

and you knew it.

so, you continued, guiding your tongue up and down against this skin, welcoming the blossoming of his sticky, hot liquid that immediately burst into your mouth. you swallowed every drop, but you didn't stop either. this time, you had nearly forgotten about the command that you gave to jing yuan, especially when he had started saying your name quietly.

"y-y/n...w-wait... ah— i just, please—"

but that didn't stop you.

and you welcomed the taste of his climax once more, swallowing every bit and drop that left his erect member. jing yuan was tired, but you didn't plan on finishing him...not just yet. you wanted your own fun, too.

licking your lips, you undid your pants and lifted your shirt, letting jing yuan admire the sight before him. he wanted to reach out to grab you, but he knew you didn't properly give him the command to touch you. instead, like an obedient puppy he was now, he watched you.

as you straddled him, you placed his erect member inside of you. you gasp quietly, sighing with relief as you felt your walls separate, welcoming the familiar, throbbing member that intruded inside of you. shifting your hips, you began to ride him, holding him steadily as you immediately began to pick up the pace.

"gh—" you heard him breathe against your shoulder, his arms wrapped around you as your rode him. you were rough, and boy did he like that. he was into it, and he adored this side of you.

you felt his tongue, teeth and his lips trail up and down against your neck, leaving marks of his love all over your skin. you were fucking him silly, and he could no longer think.

all he could truly really think about...was you at this moment.

but you were already in a good mood since you were practically mind fucking him, so you decided to reward jing yuan a bit. you gestured him to change positions, allowing him to take you from behind instead.

holding onto the headboard of the bedframe, you allowed jing yuan to thrust and to pump inside of you. you felt every inch of him hit deeper into your area, and it felt too amazing that you were beginning to fill the bedroom with your own moans as well. luckily, the walls were thick, so the both of you could be as loud as you wanted.

it wasn't long until jing yuan had practically came inside of you, but you knew his limits as he was ready to do it over again—because you were going to make him do it. the both of you spent the entire night just fucking each other silly, avoiding work for the day, and just basically filling you up with his seed. an unintentional breeding, but also...breeding you.

he didn't really learn his lesson, truth to be told. he would just annoy you to have these sessions again.

but you punished him every time.

[heymeowmao]

2024.12.21 - https://weibo.com/l/wblive/p/show/1022:2321325114086412386568

C: Will you reimburse? LYN: What do you want reimbursement for? You’re making dumplings and you want me to reimburse you for the ingredients? Is chasing stars like a job now? One that covers its employee’s meals? Should I distribute you two jugs of soybean oil so that you can make dumplings at home?? C: If you were my boss, then my boss wouldn’t have to struggle trying to find me. LYN: What’s a little girl like you thinking about all day at work?? You have your eyes set on your boss? What a kid. Let me contact your team manager and tell them to tell your boss to watch out.

- restarting the sound card bc there’s a prob with it LYN: Looks like I just have to stream more often to that my equipment keep up to date

- asks his new fans to report by which avenue they came to like him, so that he can thank those sources.

- the laughtrack wasn’t working, but fixed it! C: There’s no soul without the laughtrack! LYN: The soul is back! We got it!! I always see comments, “Why is LYN’s stream so tacky? He presses his own laughtrack, how awkward is that?!” It’s like this- maybe you mostly eat simple things, so when something luxurious is presented to you, you don’t know what to do with yourself. You’re just not used to it. Maybe after a few more tries, you’ll come to like it. // You can’t call someone tacky because they like something you don’t. LYN: But we’re professional. This is like a variety show- I’m sure you watch them- there are all sorts of special/sound effects and captions. C: There’s static/white noise in the laughtrack. LYN: /listens to it/ Your requirements are too high.

C: Your appearance has changed. What’s up with that? LYN: You can’t be suspecting that I’ve gotten cosmetic surgery, can you? Do you think I’ve gotten better looking or uglier? /sigh/ I’ve been planning it, but I never have the time. I’m very busy. Even if I did have cosmetic surgery, I wouldn’t have recovery time. Especially at the end of the year? There’s just too much to do. I can’t have surgery. C: Don’t get cosmetic surgery or you'll be cursed at! LYN: Why do we need to care about the opinions of others? You know yourself best. In this industry you have to remember one thing: looks/visuals are right. It doesn’t matter if a person’s head is empty, as long as they have visuals they can continue to survive in this industry. That’s the truth.

- lost 4lbs in three days (bc he was sick) and is the thinnest he’s been in recent days. But had two instant noodles and will eat dumplings later (all carbs). LYN: I’ll be fat again tomorrow.

C: Ning-ge, your hat is Nick, what about Judy? LYN: /switches hats/ There we go! LYN: I left this hat to the side here, just waiting for someone to ask me that question! / If no one had asked, I would never have gotten to wear this hat. Forcing the change would have been a bit stiff.

C: Will you reimburse for dumplings? [t.n: eat dumplings/tang yuan for dongzhi (dec 21)] LYN: Can you tell me why I should? Everything has a reason, so why should I reimburse you for eating dumplings? There are two possibilities. 1. I owe you. Or, 2. I owed you in a past life. C: Aren’t we one family, though? LYN: Does your mom collect money from you when you eat as a family? For example, we’re a family and I’m your big brother. He’s come home and you’ve wrapped dumplings for him, but ask him to reimburse you. Would he not send you flying into the bed with a kick? // The problem here is that I didn’t even eat any dumplings! So why should I reimburse you for dumplings YOU’VE eaten? If we were all eating together, I’d be happy to pay my share but I didn’t eat anything so why should I reimburse you? Because you’re pretty? Just because you’re pretty, you think you should be able to eat?

C: Ning-ge when you laugh you have eye wrinkles. LYN: /holding back tears/ How hurtful. I was in a good mood and considering reimbursing you for your dumplings but now I’m depressed. I feel like I’m being eliminated by time. But also- I’m very curious- who doesn’t have wrinkles when they laugh?? How much botox would they need to accomplish that? Who doesn’t have wrinkles when they laugh? But actually it’s a simple fix- get some botox. It’s not very expensive, either. For an artist that’s pretty much an everyday expense. But artists really should try not to, so that their muscles retain some vitality. C: Your wrinkles have charmed me into dog shit. LYN: ?? You can say “charmed me into a dog” and that would be cute, but why is there another word tacked onto the end? You don’t need to be so self-deprecating when watching me stream- it’s not that important. It’s not worth it, sis! - understands they were probably trying to make him feel better, but they didn’t have to stoop so low

- dropped by Hengdian to film some things :) (x)

- someone fawning over his “croaking” | LYN: No wonder they say love is blind. Why would you like that??? C: Love is the leaf that blinds the eye*. - [t/n: 一叶障目; “focused on a small detail or part of something that you lose the bigger picture”] LYN: Are you trying to say that yes, I am just basic? Are you trying to say that everyone who likes me is blind?? You only like me because there’s a leaf blocking your sight but if you see me clearly (with both eyes), it’s unbearable??? - Wrong answers only! Love is: 叶公好龙 (pretend to be fond of something while actually fearing it) // 井底之蛙 (a frog at the bottom of a well- thinks the sky is only as big as the well’s mouth. (describes someone who has narrow vision/short-sighted)) LYN: You don't know how to use idioms?? I know I don’t have a very high education but my usage of idioms is not as outrageous as yours!

- CAN dye his hair, but it’s not really looked well upon in this industry to have dyed hair (colors) when attending events/galas/variety shows. If your hair is dyed they’ll spray it with temporary coloring back to black. It’s just not very convenient. [See also: Hello Saturday 2023.06.17]

C: Love is “a frog at the bottom of the well” means that they only have eyes for you. LYN: That makes it sound like I’m keeping you captive. That I won’t let you see the outside world, so that you think that the only bit of sky that you see is the best that there is to offer. That’s no good- I think you should jump out of the well to see the world. If you still think that the well is the best place to be after seeing the world, then that’s what I really want. 

C: Ning-ge, can you say this: “Liu Yuning, kneel!” LYN: Wh... what’s up? Are you an anti? What do you want me to kneel for? Do you want a marriage proposal, or do you want me to pray to you? Why do you want me to kneel? How dare you!

- wants people to interact with him/write a comment instead of just watching silently C: I make a comment but you never respond, so I’m sad. LYN: If you buy a lottery ticket but not win, aren’t you sad all the same?? - the comments are just a mood-maker; he wants people to participate and have fun C: I close my eyes and just listen to the stream. LYN: A leaf must be blinding your eyes? Or are they covered by two pieces of cucumber? Are you applying a face mask?

- there’s this phase that’s called a “3-Month Drama Fan” which means from the start to the end of a drama, you become a fan of an actor for three months, then lost interest. So being a fan for longer than a year is amazing. - if you’ve been a fan for 6-7 years (right when he debuted), you have to be careful because around this time is when people get tired/bored and start climbing the wall [t/n: Uh Oh XD I’m still interested, I just don’t have a lot of time.] C: I regret not knowing you sooner. LYN: /gets sentimental but in the “I could have known/interacted with LYN before he was famous” sort of way/ C: When you get sentimental, I get sleepy. LYN: How was I sentimental?? Maybe you’re just sleepy. Go to sleep. It’s 7p. That’s quite early- are you getting up early tomorrow to make it to the early market? Groceries are cheaper, then. - reminisces about walking to the early market with his grandma and eating a bowl of noodles there while she shopped

- promotes things you can do when visiting Dandong! (including going to one of the bathhouses) C: Will you be there? Let’s bathe together. LYN: How can you provoke me all the time like this and expect me to not have wrinkles? My wrinkles are full of helplessness. You, a little girl, are going around the internet just asking strange men to bathe with you in a hot spring?? If your mom found out, wouldn’t she hit you? I’m really curious. // If I talk back it seems like I’m being stingy, but if I don’t talk back it seems like I’m welcome to the idea! C: Aren’t we friends? LYN: Friends can soak in a hot spring together?? I won’t be going, but you go. I don’t like to wash up. C: If you didn’t have the wrinkles I would like you 20% less. LYN: Really? But I just sent a message to my staff to get me an appointment tomorrow for botox for my wrinkles. The bottle’s already prepped and now you’re telling me you’d like me less? In that case, for you, I won’t go. C: You’re going to have a trending topic titled “LYN doesn’t wash up.” - explains he said it that way as a gentle form of rejection. instead of a straight up rejection (“no. go away.”), it is better to make an indirect excuse/shift blame to yourself. just like how people say “sorry, I already have plans.” LYN: I told you that I don’t like to wash up because I was afraid of hurting you with a direct rejection. It’s my problem, not yours. If you like to wash, then you can go. Have a nice soak.

C: I’m allergic to water. LYN: I think I have heard of people with that condition, so. No one in the world is better than anyone else. C: I’m allergic to rice. LYN: ?? Stop with that nonsense. XD C: I’m allergic to money. LYN: Allergic to MONEY??? Oh, you mean the actual bills. Most everything now is an electronic payment, so you’ll be okay. It’s not like you have a reaction when you open your bank account and see money in it. It’s not like you’re allergic to seeing numbers, though. If that were the case, then donate the money to someone who needs it.

C: The comments are blocking your face. LYN: Are you watching on a tablet? You can turn the comments off. But try not to, because there are a lot of people who are typing and interacting with one another. I know that when I go to stop a fight a lot of you are playing mahjong in the comments. LYN: I think many young people nowadays are lonely. So when you’re watching my stream, it’s with other lonely people from across the land and sea. You can share your story with all these other lonely people. This way, you won’t feel as lonley anymore. C: You have a story and I have liquor. Come on. LYN: If you wanted to drink, just do it! Don’t use other people’s story as an excuse!

LYN: Friends. I’m not lying to you; let me tell you the truth. Sometimes I think I should be honest with you, without caring about my artist or celebrity status. Friends, I really need to go. My stomach really hurts, I need to- use the restroom. I kept trying to think of something else but I don’t think I can hold it anymore. My stomach is making noises. So- I need to go. C: OMG, I thought it was a big deal. LYN: It IS a big deal- the most important one in life. [t/n: has to watch his pronunciation because the 事 (matter) and 屎 (shit) are both “shi”] 1:00:00 --- Break #1 C: Are you done eating? [t/n: eat... shit????] LYN: ??? I went to the restroom and you’re asking me if I’m done eating…? What does that mean? Are you asking me if I ate something that made me sick? Or, if I took some medicine? - turns into a rapper (starts rhyming) while telling them “that joke wasn’t funny at all. that was so rude.”

- trending at #19 | LYN: Is it “LYN doesn’t like to wash up?” (No, it’s just the regular “LYN Livestream”)

- doesn’t want to announce his streams beforehand because he thinks it gives off the impression that there’s something to look forward to; a sudden/unplanned is better and more of a surprise C: I knew there was a 99% chance you’d stream today. LYN: You already predicted that I would stream today? You were right! It’s power of belief- the more you want something, the more likely it will come true. It has to be a positive thought, though. LYN: Well, since you are so accurate at predicting then I will stop streaming right now. Goodbye. I can’t let you get what you want too easily.

- thanks Beijing TV for using his song as bgm for various videos (and therefore promoting it)

- they’re asking him to do… something, IDK LYN: I don’t know how. I’m a rapper. You are a rapper. They are also rappers. You are all rappers. But I am also a rapper. [t/n: ???] C: Then, let’s hear some rap. - /starts playing 无心生大梦/ LYN: Does this count? /switches his hat bc the other one if more likely to fly off his head while head-banging/ LYN: Shout along with me. 1:16:30 --- 无心生大梦 (Unintentional Big Dream)

C: It still has to be you singing. LYN: What does that mean? No, I saw- I think it was Scream Night, right? A group of very talented singers and they sang this song? I saw a comment, “I want to see Ning-ge’s reaction to other people singing his song.” Normally, they would have cut the camera to me, but I just happened to have stepped out at the moment. I was sitting there and my face was full of oil so I had stepped out to touch up my makeup and I heard it then. LYN: I do want to say- I saw a lot of people commenting on the singers- and I think…I think they sang well! Honestly. Those songs are very hard to sing. 1. The song is hard to begin with. 2. It’s not their song. It’s a very hard song and difficult to control. 3. I want to say they did a good job. Because… a lot of these stages are not suited to live performances, but they had the guts to sing live. I want to praise them for singing live, and it’s because of that, that they should be called singers. That’s all I have to say and I won’t make any other comments. LYN: I’m not trying to compare to others but for me, at least, being able to sing live is a base requirement- for my own profession. As a singer, you should be able to sing live. As for how well you do, I’m sure that the audience all have their own judgement. Live singing vs lip synching is a problem with attitude, I think. C: It’s a problem with ability/skill. LYN: Don’t be like that. No matter how skilled of a person you are, there are times when you will perform well and times you will perform poorly. It’s the same for everyone. Someone can perform one skill their whole life and still do poorly sometimes. Just like you- you can study every day and do well on one test, but poorly on another. Right? It’s not a problem of ability. Sometimes it’s just how well you perform/execute. There are a lot of external factors to take into account as well. You don’t have to be more tolerant, you just need to be able to see the good in others. I’m not talking about the performance- we’re past that. You can’t determine if something is good or bad based on a single instance. You just- If you wanted to find fault in everything then you can do that, too easily. - try to see the good in others and better yourself, as opposed to seeing the bad in others and giving yourself a sense of superiority because of it. If you look at things from an objective standpoint, there is a lot more to feel and learn. - if he wanted to be a critic, he could do it better than the best of them XD - is of the philosophy that if you have a dream: those “higher” than you will lift you up and cheer you on, those on your same level will respect you, but only those “lower” than you will try to tear you down.

LYN: On a related topic, lately I’ve found myself being 拉踩 (belittle someone as a way to praise someone else). Everyone wants to use me to compare. But circling back to what I was just saying: if you really think you’re better than me, then I am not even qualified to be compared to you. So if you really want to succeed, you shouldn’t use me as a point of comparison to begin with, because if you really think you’re better than me you wouldn’t try to compare to me. I’m not qualified, so there’s no meaning in doing it. Okay? Thanks. LYN: I have a lot more to consider now, otherwise I- I wouldn’t let people bullying me slide. But I don’t want to say anything anymore- it doesn’t matter. I still have to hang around the industry for several years longer, after all. So I’ll try to… control myself.

C: I finally caught a hot and steaming stream. LYN: … I kinda have the runs today, so- not to be disrespectful! Everyone who was here already knows that I have the runs. But your words… give me a strange feeling. I can’t pinpoint exactly what that feeling is, though. LYN: But if you haven’t subscribed to my weibo yet, please do so. The next time I steam you can always come to have a hot meal. It’s always warm here. We’ll sit on the kang (heated platform) and have some steamed buns and salty sides- hot and steaming, nice and cozy. Okay?

1:34:58- 1:48:15 C: Lao-da, can you open your collar a little wider? LYN: I just want to ask- what exactly is it that you want?? So what if it’s a little wider? Have you never been to a pool before?? All the men walk around topless, don’t they? Doesn’t that make you happy enough? On the internet, there are so many- /laughs/

LYN: Friends, I don’t know why it is but lately when I’ve been scrolling through videos it keeps recommending me 擦边 (“skirting the edge”//provacative) men! It used to- I’ll be honest with you- it used to recommend the provocative women. Because my account is set as “male”, so it would recommend me videos of women. When I saw them- I’m not lying at all when I say this!- I clicked on “Not Interested”. Because I use my own account- my main account- and I was afraid that in the yearly summary it would say, “Modern Brothers Liu Yuning’s Favorite Video Type is-” /makes a “you know” hand gesture/ Friends, this is the truth. I thought it would keep recommending those types of videos to me if I watched one, and in the end this type of video and my “most watched account” would show on my year-end summary. If someone got a screencap of that they would laugh themselves to death. C: So you switched an account to watch the videos. LYN: No, I use my own account! So I kept marking that I wasn’t interested and I’ve discovered that lately it’s been recommending me videos of provocative men instead. I guess the algorithm has made some assumptions about my preferences. But the comments and likes are very high! So I was thinking, “Oh, this is what girls like nowadays.” And THEN I was thinking, “Maybe I can learn something?” And I have. There are two types: one goes hard and the other is a little more shallow. I can’t do any of the hard edge type. LYN: It starts with back towards you, a look over the shoulder, and then they flip their clothes and they disappear. It shows off the back and leaves them only in a tie. Because of the nature of these videos, I’m sure they must have a nice figure to show off in the first place. So they were quite muscular. Another one starts off wearing a white collared shirt and black suit with tie. They’re filming themselves through the mirror- with phone covering their face. They pull the tie and all of a sudden the clothes fly away. Only the tie is left; the lights are low and they’re on their knees. In their knees in suit pants but nothing else on top. They pull the tie and they’re kneeling with all their pecs and abs. Phone is still covering the face- I guess they must feel SOME shame, after all. LYN: There are also the ones that don’t go as hard, but are very purposeful. It’s a strange sort of purposeful but you understand why. They start off in a big t-shirt. Because in these videos they’re usually doing some complex dance with their hands- /demonstrates/. How they do it is that as soon as the notes start they pull their shirt up a bit. To let everyone see their abs. Then the rest of the video they’re dancing like normal. It’s like that. So I started scrolling his videos and every video starts with a shirt pull. He’s wearing very normal clothes- sometimes a t-shirt, sometimes with long sleeves, sometimes a hoodie- but the first move is always the same. To show off the abs. Friends, I really learned something here. LYN: There’s another type- it doesn’t count as provocative, but more visual. They wear a white collared shirt but the neckline is wide open. So a white shirt- the flowy and smooth type, tucked cleanly. Some tie a string to their arm, some have suspenders, some have a string around their neck. In any case, there are a bunch of different types. But they have a different MO. They’ll start off with shades and give a… mischievous smile. -  /demonstrates/ - [t/n: honestly the smile is scaring me. lmao] LYN: I didn’t do that very well, but do you get what I’m saying?

- two types of people: the “shoot us a video, ning-ge” and the mom/older sister-type fans who want to protect him LYN: So now it’s been recommending me all sorts of these videos. It was quite scary. So then I searched a few terms to start blocking those from my algorithm. Otherwise I was afraid I might really become bad/go astray. C: Ning-ge, I turned my volume down low when you started talking about this. LYN: ! Sorry, was that not proper? It was okay, right? Sorry, then I won’t talk about such topics in the future. C: “LYN擦边” has become a trending topic. LYN: !! Don’t make me angry! Do you still want me to survive in this industry?? What did I do? I didn’t do anything!! I only demonstrated what a mischievous smile was. I may have exaggerated in my imitation, but I just want you to know how easily you can be tricked and to warn you of it. I was speaking as an older brother, as a father- to tell you to stay away from these types of men. Don’t be blinded by this type of temptation. - proceeds to dangle a carrot: if you subscribe to his weibo, later during the stream he’ll change into a worn out undershirt and while he’s singing he’ll tear it off (like he promised he would at his concert). But subscribe, first.

C: Ning-ge, what if the account you are currently observing is one of your male fans? LYN: What if they’re a male fan? Now I am stuck between two “nan”s (男 (man) vs 难 (difficult/hard). One is a struggle with myself, because of personal preference. But other person is my fan. So how do I make this choice? A difficult question indeed.

- the requirements for daily check-ins has raised to 1000-day streak (instead of 500) for a jug of bean oil/10kg bag of rice; reminds people to check and redeem their Taobao points before they expire (not sponsored)

C: Ning-ge are you still afraid of ghosts? LYN: Yeah. It’s not fear, exactly, but I have a sense of respect for them. C: Are you afraid of the dark? LYN: Yes. Rather than being afraid of the dark, though, I’m afraid of things happening/appearing suddenly. Like those balloon games where you’re not sure when it will pop. I’m afraid of sudden sounds. In the dark I’m more afraid of something coming out to scare me. I’d pass out. Straight to sleep. I’d have a good rest that night.

C: Speak in your dialect. LYN: I am, aren’t I? But actually the dialect in my hometown and the one you usually hear is not quite the same. The dialect in Dandong is a little different. - commenting on how he went to an event and they put three people from Dandong all at one table together (LYN, Ma Li, & Huang Jingyu)

C: Ning-ge, normally singer’s mouths are big. Why is yours small? LYN: /laughs/ I- So what you mean is that I’m not worthy to be a singer? Based on my genetics, I have no talent, is that it? Do you want me to give up on music? My mouth isn’t small, is it? It’s normal.

C: Ning-ge, I was watching KSTLB and it seems like you don’t dare to play? LYN: No, it’s okay as long as others are playing. My main job is to blend in the with crowd. I’m only here for the numbers. Each person has their own responsibility: Visuals, Brains, Tank, etc. And what am I? I have no responsibility. I’m there to make up the numbers. I’m there as filler. C: Visual representative. LYN: Oh, I wouldn’t dare. C: Broadcasting representative. LYN: I dare not accept that title. My good friends, welcome to my stream. I want to thank everyone for… coming to my party. /LOL/ - jokes that he’s there to fill in the cracks; “ My name is Liu Mei (pretty) Feng (crack). If I ever have a daughter, I’ll name her Liu Mei Feng.” - explains that he’s not the only one hosting or solving the problems, it’s just that they edit the show to LOOK that way, to give him a sense of presence bc otherwise he’s “not doing anything of interest”

C: When are you going to Hello Saturday again? LYN: I can’t just buy a ticket and GO. If you mean as a viewer, I could probably call them and ask. If you meant as a guest, then… that show is actually pretty difficult to get a spot on. If they don’t invite me, then I can’t just go. And if I ask them “Can I come?” and they tell me no, that would be really shameful. I can go when they want or need me, like when they’re pomoting a drama but need a few more friends. The other thing is- why are you asking? Are you trying to ambush me? - demonstrates how tone of voice matters when asking a question

- discussing the topic and storyline of Detective Conan - doesn’t really follow any other manga, but has watched Death Note; doesn’t follow One Piece (because the art style wasn’t his type) but has played one of the mobile game before - Sasuke! Sasuke! (at least we know he’s watched Naruto)

C: This is my first time watching your stream, I’m excited. LYN: Are you even more excited because I’ve seen your comment? :)

C: Demon Slayer LYN: I know of it, but I never watched it. When HZT and I were shooting the drama togehter, he would force me to watch it. When we were playing a game together, I think he also changed our group (guild?) name to “Slayer Family” or something like that. It had a special name, but I forgot.

- his exposure to animations is from watching a variety show- a voice actor competition - doesn’t know any Japanese, but does come across videos (because voice acting) and thinks the Japanese style sounds really cool. - talks about how there’s a clip of a bunch of VAs each saying one line and it ends with this one guy saying a single word and everyone loses their minds because of it. - has watched Kindaichi Case Files, but only the live-action because the manga scares him - HAS watched DMBJ; “I watch the dramas I’ve acted in!”

2:23:47 --- Break #2

C: Do you want to talk about fashion? LYN: I can’t talk about anything too fashionable with you. I wore a pair of pants the other day and you spent all day discussing whether I was wearing pants, a skirt, or a skort. It was modern-historical; a pair of pants like men would wear. [t/n: these ones?] C: Was it cold? LYN: There were pants on the inside. Actually it was two pairs- I was wearing some thermals underneath. You know, people from the south might think that since the weather is warmer, they’re more afraid of the cold. But actually, people from the north are more afraid. Especially people from Dongbei. When winter comes, thermals are a must. Thermals, wool pants, cotton pants, then jeans on top. When winter comes we bring all the equipment out. C: Isn’t wool prickly? LYN: Real wool isn’t. If yours is pricking you then that means it’s not 100% wool and you have a fake.

- Dongbei people spend quite a penny on heating in the winter, as well; complains about those people who don’t pay their heating fees but “if the second floor and fourth floor have paid but the third floor hasn’t- it still won’t get too cold for them. because they’re sandwiched in the middle.” X’D - comments on how they’d have a water meter but turn on the faucet so it drips one drop at a time- which would not affect the meter- then in the morning, they’d have a whole bucket full of water (without having to pay)

LYN: I found something out lately- I don’t know if I can tell you about it. But it’s solved a question I’ve had for the past six years. It’s terrifying. For the past six years, I’ve often thought about this matter, but I’ve only solved it recently! I don’t know if I can tell you- I’ll tell you half and you can weigh it for me. - recounts how DF-ge went to see a fortune teller: they told him to go to another room to write a character on a piece of paper, when he returned the master also had a character on a piece of paper- it was the same character “川”. No surveillance in the other room, and he wrote with a normal pencil. LYN still didn’t believe it, but could never figure it out. - five years ago, he went home for New Year and went to pray at the temple; a monk singled him out of the group of his friends and family and told him he was the “dragon amongst men”; was wearing mask and cap at the time (winter) and he hadn’t been on many shows yet, so was sure the monk didn’t recognize him. This time he did believe it (bc it was praise X’D). Monk told him to take off his hat and show him his forehead & told him he still had 60 years of good luck ahead. LYN: 60 years of good luck. That means I would live to about 90. Of course I was even happier! - DF asked the monk to show LYN the paper trick, and he did it by writing sth on a piece of paper then asking “what floor do you live on?” which threw LYN for a loop bc in his hometown he’s on 12F (even though technically his grandfather owns it), in Hendgian he’s on 7F (but that’s a hotel), and in Beijing he’s on 4F (but he’s renting). So he said “12” bc that’s where his roots are, and the monk had written “12” on the paper. Again, the monk writes something on the paper, then asks “what month is your birthday?”. LYN’s deciding between lunar (12) or solar (1) calendars, but ultimately gives “12” as the answer. The monk shows he wrote “12” on the paper as well. LYN: He blew my mind. Now I would believe anything that came out of his mouth next. Even if he had guessed, it would have to be a 1 in 12 chance, right?? Some complexes go up as high as 30-40 floors, how would he know I lived on the 12th?? C: Your da-ge/friend told him? LYN: No- there wasn’t anything to gain by telling him. My da-ge just wanted to prove how amazing it was, because he went there often and trusted this person. There would be no reason to feed him the answers just to trick me. C: He was your fan. LYN: /laughing/ No! Unless he was a stalker fan, he wouldn’t know where I lived! There’s no way. LYN: It was amazing and because of that I undeniably believed when he told me that I had 60 more years of good luck. - the monk let him light the thickest stick of incense (which he did not let anyone else burn), because LYN was worthy of it. :’) ; struggling over how much (money) to offer; but ended up giving 1000rmb. LYN: The story in its entirety is all told. But I’ve been thinking about this for a long time and a couple of days ago I came across a video and it was pretty much the same schtick! So I looked into the comments and found the answer. - “Shadow Pen”; they’re not actually writing anything on the paper at the start. They keep hold of the paper and once they hear your answer, there’s a hidden tip glued to their finger (thumb) or under the nail that they use to write with and they write as you speak. LYN: It was so mysterious for five years and now I’m wondering if the 60 years of luck was true or not. I’m sure that part, at least, was not a lie! I don’t care what floor they ended up writing on that paper- I would have bought a house to match. As long as the 60 years of luck stays true. -- LYN: I’ll make DF-ge watch this stream later and uncover the mystery for him. -- C: Make them write 饕餮 (taotie). LYN: Maybe they’d write it in pinyin. -- - had used this story to cheer himself on when he was feeling down: “LYN, you can do it. That shifu told you that you’’d have 60 years of luck, so any difficulty you’re facing now is not going to be the end of you.”; everytime he was facing difficulty, he would think of this shifu.

C: hahahahaha “a dragon amongst men” LYN: Why did you have to type so may “ha”s? Is it very funny to you?? What’s wrong with that? All my male fans are “dragons amongst men.” My female fans are… “phoenixes amongst eagles.”

- is a good storyteller, because he would take DF/AZ/his own experiences to dress up and tell people; but now that he’s in this industry and mostly works with artists/celebrities and drama crews he’s not at liberty to tell such stories, not even as a joke. - tells a story about an instance that makes acting a happy thing for him: for one of his dramas, the actors got along so well that they would actively discuss the drama and how to act, even outside of work. One day a younger actor came (fresh out of a different drama) and couldn’t get into the right headspace; the director just wasn’t satisfied. It was hard for the other actors because they couldn’t say too much, but they tried to integrate him and included him in their activities. The week before drama wrap, the actor had a solo scene (everyone was present, but they didn’t have many lines) and they tried to keep the mood light, so as not to put too much pressure on the kid. They went through the full range of emotions for their monologue, and when they were done EVERYONE on set applauded them. That moment was heartwarming and made LYN want to cry; it’s also made him think being an actor was worth it. LYN: What makes me the happiest about acting is not the point the drama is aired, but it’s the process of getting it completed, the creativity, and the sense of community you can find with the right actors and crew. It makes you feel like your work is meaningful and you have a sense of accomplishment. It feels like you’re really growing and learning. The collective brainstorming and discussion around how we can complete a scene and make it /interesting/ is the best part. - loves working with seasoned actors bc it feels like a test of his own abilities (it makes him excited and nervous); celebrates for himself when he successfully pulls off a scene. LYN: I don’t know if you remember this once scene in YNGS- sorry, I’m not trying to brag, I just want to share. I’m not a mature actor by any means and I’m still learning!- but there was one scene LTG came to give me medicine. RRY told NYZ that his life was saved thanks to LTG’s geng shi pill. And I replied, “What, “dog shit” (gou shi) pill??” Actually, I thought of that line. Then she laughs and walks away, so I said, “Come back! Support me, I’m not healed yet.” The reason I shouted that was because at that time my foot was broken!! Normally, she would have walked out of shot and I’d say, “Wait for me!” and run to follow her. But I was disabled, I couldn’t run! So I could only change my lines. It was reasonable for the storyline, and also it my real-time needs. So when I pull off these small details I’m a little proud of myself.

- is afraid of being type-casted, but it’s already sort of happening. People will find you for the role you suit the best, so why should they look to you for any different, when there are OTHERs who fit the (different) role more/better? - in this case, rather than try new things, it mightbe better to become the best at (irreplaceable) in a certain genre or field LYN: This is also the reason I continue to stream. I’m sure that singers/actors or anyone else in this industry CAN be a livestreamer, and I’m sure that there are people who do it much better than I do. But why do I keep at it? Because no one else can keep at it like I am. My perseverance is irreplaceable. When you become irreplaceable, there will definitely be a market for you. A lot of people can stream better than me, but no one else can stream as regularly. No one else can stream for as long as I do. Therefore, I am irreplaceable. LYN: It’s just like when I release songs- I am not the best singer, nor are my songs the best sounding, nor am I the best looking, but I release like crazy. I reach my rank in sheer quantity. Of course, I do not accept every/any song that comes my way. As long as I have a surefire place in the OST market, it’s enough. If people think of me when they’re researching who to ask to sing their OST, that’s enough. I wouldn’t call myself irreplaceable, since actually anyone can easily replace me. But as long as they think of me, it’s okay. - Found out he’s released 25 songs in 2024. That’s an average of 2 songs per month!!

C: I’m a fan of your voice? LYN: My voice? Then shouldn’t you be called my “songs-fan”? C: They meant when you’re not singing or acting. LYN: /puts on a funny voice/ I usually sound like this when I’m not singing or acting. Do you think it sounds nice? LYN: I’m very comfortable speaking like this! It’s not uncomfortable or awkward at all! - thinks he is especially good at imitating Minnie Mouse :) - tries Crayon Shin-chan, but does not think he sounds like him - SpongeBob Squarepants & Patrick who is similar to Zhu Bajie; doesn’t know how to do Mr. Krabs

- tries to get Daimi, but she’s sleeping

3:38:48 --- Break #3 LYN: Friends. I just found dumplings and I want to eat them, could you wait for me? We can do a mukbang, People usually tell me to eat something when I’m streaming, but I always thought that was an impolite thing to do, since you all came to see me stream. It’s like when a friend comes over to your house but you pay them no attention and eat on your own while your friend sits there staring at you. I think it’s impolite, so that’s why you’ll rarely see me eating or drinking anything on my stream. Today is a holiday, though, so let’s eat dumplings together. - dumpling eating ASMR (“I don’t usually eat noisily like this!”) - turned the bowl bc he was accidentally showing the brand name XD - Daimi woke up because he was eating. | LYN: It used to be she only had eyes for me. Now she only has eyes for my dumplings.

C: I downloaded weibo in order to watch your stream. LYN: Wow, thanks very much. Do you need me to reimburse you for roaming/data?

C: I’ve liked you for six years and I haven’t received anything. LYN: Aren’t you receiving my company, right now? Don’t you think this is a lot more meaningful? Think about it- I stream, for the most part, for my fans. There will be passersby, but this stream is really for you. Is that not enough? In that case, I can stream again in the next few days.

-  wishes everyone an early happy new year :) ; performs “eating dumplings” as his talent

- talking more concert logistics (which cities and how many stops total (around 20 across 6 months)) C: What if my parents don’t let me go? LYN: Then, don’t go! What else can you do? Are you going to have a falling out with them just because they say you can’t come? It’s not worth it. Just listen to your parents, and don’t come. You can watch online; I’m sure everyone who IS coming will record videos for you to watch later. C: I’m bringing my son. LYN: Okay. You can bring whoever you want. C: Are front-row seats available? LYN: … I don’t know. I’m sure you’d be able to buy one. I don’t think anyone would fight you for them. C: Should we wear wedding dresses? LYN: It depends on the season. If it’s too cold, then forget it. If it’s a warmer city, then we can think about it. We can look at the city, the temperature, and how we’re feeling. We can mix it up. One stop we’ll do wedding dresses, and for the next we could do… sweatpants. Those cute fuzzy pajamas. You can wear slippers. Qipao. Hanfu. It’s all good. LYN: But the most important thing is that you carry bags that help to show off your income bracket- those ones that are exclusive to certain tiers. Because I will be inviting all sorts of brands and industry insiders to attend; so if you’re carrying something like that it will tell them that my fans are all highly skilled and that you have the means to afford spending. You might be able to help me acquire three more jobs out of it. - [as a JOKE] tells them to stuff their important documents like land deeds into their bags as well, and flip through them at the concert. So that if the brand/platform reps see it, there’s an 80% chance they’ll think LYN’s fans are: 1. Not very mentally stable, but 2. Have the ability to go on unlimited shopping spree, and 3. Love LYN very much, so that if they work with him, their products are going to fly off the shelves.

C: I’ll wear all the gold jewelry in my household. (like the jewelry sets people buy when they get married) LYN: It’s a nice thought, but I don’t want you to get robbed or lose any of it at the concert or on the way. LYN: If you’re going to be swinging a lightstick at the concert, I don’t want your expensive 400g bracelet to fly off and hit the girl in front of you and give her a concussion. Don’t wear anything too expensive. C: Then, I’ll wear fake gold. LYN: Fake gold is bad for your health, don’t wear it. If you’re swinging  lightstick, you’re going to get sweaty. Once the sweat hits the fake gold, it’s going to turn your arm black, like you’re poisoned. C: How about a key ring? (keys of all the property they own) LYN: Oh, a key ring with like 60-70 keys hooked on it? That works, but you shouldn’t just hold it in your hand. You should wear that as a necklace.

- jokes about making specialized parking spaces for his fans who have expensive cars (rolls royce, porsche, helicopters, etc.) and opens it up to all sorts of unique forms of transport. C: I’m taking the train… LYN: Are you driving the train right up to the venue doors? Even if your father were the conductor, I don’t think he’d be able to do that! C: Where can I park my UFO? LYN: On my face. Why don’t you just take me away, while you’re at it? If you have a UFO, you can come take me away tonight. Later I can brag to people that I was abducted by aliens. C: I’ll ride my horse. LYN: They aren’t allowed on the roads. The fear isn’t that anything will happen to you, rather that something might happen to other people. A rockinghorse is okay, though. C: I’m taking public transport and the subway… LYN: That’s the best, and it’s eco-friendly way! I support taking the bus and subway. C: Parachute. LYN: But what about when you leave? Will you be taking your parachuting gear onto the subway? Sounds complicated… C: I’ll fit Daimi to a dog-sled. LYN: Daimi would not be able to pull you.

- shows off a toy of Daimi that an interviewer gave to him.

C: What’s the best spot to be at the concert? LYN: Of course, the answer would be “on the stage”. You can follow me wherever I go. But those tickets aren’t sold. / The front row would be the best, of course. But anywhere is good; I’ll do my best to make sure you have a good time wherever you’re sitting. We were discussing a four-sided stage before, which would mean there are more front row seats, but… I didn’t like it. It feels like I have to keep wandering around, because I have to make sure all four sides see me! I’m just not accustomed to it. Normal stages are three-sided. C: An extending stage. LYN: I thought about it too, but. Let’s say the stage starts here- then extends forwards. That means that no one can sit in the area where the stage will extend/retract. It cuts down the number of seats and since there’s also a range for safety, the distance between me and the front row becomes too far. Its not like how you see in small shows and galas, where people can reach out their hands to touch you. There’s a distance requirement for safety. LYN: So I was thinking of including some wirework. For one or two songs at each stop, I can fly out over your heads. I just hope I don’t have an upset stomach on those days. I can fly around on one side, then the other. I was thinking about doing something like that… C: We’ll pull your shoes off. LYN: I won’t wear shoes. If I were on wire, I wouldn’t dare to put anything in my pocket or wear anything expensive. I’m afraid that if something drops, I’d never be able to find it again. If I wore a Pomellato ring and it dropped, someone would just take it away. Even if I had some melon seeds for a snack and stuck the rest in my pocket and those dropped out, I’m sure you’d take them away. I’m not trying to belittle you- that’s not my intent. It’s just that I was shooting a variety show about three years ago- a cooking one-  and I made candy-floss apples and another noodle dish. People took the noodles and put it in a little plastic bag- like this. Two strands of noodles, into the bag, sealed, then taken home. I don’t even know what they’d DO with it!! Dry it out and stick it in a labelled case? That’s why- taking melon seeds from me doesn’t even sound outrageous. Forget about the shoes, I’m sure someone would even steal my socks! First the laces, then the shoes, then my socks. They won’t leave me with anything. C: I’ll tickle your feet. LYN: Are you insane?? C: Secretly touch your feet. LYN: ??! What- you’re just a girl, what are you saying?? Why would you touch my feet? Are you crazy? You can just ASK me to shake my HAND. Why would you touch my feet?? // I must remember to wash my feet well on the day of my performance… If I fly… I should wash them well. Soak them in medicinal herbs... / No, I’m kidding. Because if I do fly, it wouldn’t be anywhere close to you. If I’m too low its a danger to both you and me. I’m not afraid of you touching me, but I’ll probably be higher up out of reach. It’s a random thought. You don’t have to think too much of it.

- might invite some friends to do guest performances at the concert; didn’t do this the first time around bc he had just debuted and didn’t really have any friends C: Can you ask HZT to come? LYN: I can ask him, and see if he’ll save me the face. - Really, he doesn’t want to inconvenience people by asking them to make a guest appearance. Also struggles with whether he should pay or not. How much is appropriate? And, if the guests’ fans find out they are attending, would people think he is using his friend as a way to sell tickets? LYN: Maybe I’m thinking too much.

LYN: Thank you for your company and support. I hope you had a relaxing, happy, and wonderful night. It was great to have you, and I hope you had fun. Let’s meet again in the next stream. Goodnight, everyone. Now that I’m closing the stream I’m afraid people will feel lost and lonely. I hope that you do not feel that way, because you can always watch my stream again. You can use my voice to keep you company into sleep. Goodnight everyone, have good dreams! Thank you all for keeping me company. This could be our first meeting, or you could have known me for a long time already but if you haven’t subscribed yet, please to do. I am Modern Brothers Liu Yuning. Thank you.

[carmens-dolls]

💤🙃😭🤗

THEY NEED THEM ALL

THATS... QUIYE A BIT... BUT OK

Emojis:

💤- an extra few hours of sleep

🙃- shomeone to share their suffering with

😭- a shoulder to cry on

🤗- a warm hug

Caroline

"Thank the Lord..." She sighed, gladly taking it and sleeps for several hours.

I mean... she has Thomas from when he lost his arm. It was more tragic for him.

and 4. She leans into an embrace with you, silently sniffling as she tried to hold back her emotions.

Thomas

"Oh, thank you so much.." he smiled. "Goodnight.." he proceeded to sleep through half the day.

He does have Caroline. The two have their fair share of tears shed together.

and 4. He hugs you tight, not ecen caring about the flow of tears running down his face. "T-thank... thank you" he muttered between sobs, glancing to you with his weary eyes.

Mr Sappy

"Thanks... Cassie has been so much lately" he chuckles, smile fading slightly. "Where is that little monster anyways-"

[I mean... he dont suffer much. One oc without trauma. Should i give him some? /j]

[Thus he wouldnt cry much.]

He embraces you with a softening smile, as he was never the type to back down from a hug.

Edith Boris

'Thank you, thank you!' Edith signs, Boris hiding his smirk. "Thanks, we'll need it."

The two have eachother as best friends. Edith was never one with a bad background, but so she comforts Boris in his times of trouble.

[For Boris] "I dont need you.." he said with a cracking voice. "I dont need anyone." He stubbornly tried to hide how he felt, but was begining to fail as he mumbled.

[For Edith, bc Boris would refuse] She embraces tightly with a wide smile, feeling as though a child comforted by her mother once more.

Clementine

"Oh? I will then... thanks." She lied in bed unable to sleep for 3 hours, but eventually did for a long while.

She visits Emmanuel every 2 weeks to update him on her state and well being. And sometimes (when permitted) stays over a few days. When experiencing the past, he always helps to ground her.

and 4. She began to practically sob into your arms, muttering indistinctly before calming slightly. "I... i don't know w-why he hated me..." She cried (mentioning Rigel).

Bruce

"Finally.." He sighed, slumping into bed and knocking out for the next 13 hours.

He has... no one.

"No." He said, voice shaking. "Get the fuck out of here."

He simply stared at your open arms with slight disgust. "What?"

John

"You sure?" He asked. When confirmed he sighed with a smile of relief. "Thank you.."

He has his sister and mother. He would never wish to lay the burden of his past onto Evangeline, so he's never told her.

and 4. He hugs you tight, shutting his eyes though breaking down still. "I'm sorry.. I'm such a failure."

Carmen

"I don't need sleep" She said, grinning. "Buuutt i suppose i can." So she did and pulled a new record of 4 days straight.

She has no one, thus forcing her trauma into the lives of her creation.

"I'm good" She said, dismissing you despite the trauma build up. It was so much, she didn't seem to care anymore.

She firstly attempted to refrain from the hug, but failed, and stood awkwardly as you held her.

Maddie

"Oh uh.." she stood silent a moment. "Thanks." She did take the sleep and got a full night's rest.

She has John, he's a good friend of hers. And her background isn't too much, but she doesn't overwhelm him with hers.

and 4. "Thank you so so much..." she said, hugging you tightly.

Cedric

"Ive got people to heal and a family to care for, i never sleep" He joked. "But thank you for the offer."

He shares with his wife the loss of their eldest daughter.

He kindly refuses. "But you can for my wife. She'll appreciate it more" he smiled.

He accepted the embrace and pulled you in tightly. "Thank you.."

[milliesfishes]

seeing billy with a yappy dog makes me think about cornelius with his girl’s dog

however this dog would be one of those crusty rat little dogs (totally not ripping off my dog). The dogs where u can always see their skin/underside bc their fur doesn’t cover it, and even if u always brush them and keep them well bathed they still look like they’ve never been taken care of a day in their life. my dog has slightly wavy fur that kinda becomes more apparent and clumps together into big strands after a walk or when she needs a bath/brush, it’s actually very similar in color to coryo’s academy wig and would probably resemble his hair if he never took care of it. (I promise i take care of her fur she’s just always going to look a little frazzled 😭😭😭)

im pretty sure coryo at the very least doesn’t like dogs (i believe it was stated in the books bc of the rapid dogs in the capitol? At the very least i remember them chasing him as a kid in the movie). if he were to pick i’m sure it wouldn’t be the constantly shaking anxiety rat dog with too long legs, he’d probably tolerate a fancy lap dog. he has to swallow the impulsive thought to gag when she first shows him a picture of the dog she can’t stop talking about. and when she says it looks like him??? he almost can’t hold himself back. coriolanus snow does not look like a mop!

he can’t stand the barking and tail wagging and jumping.

my dog is a rescue, and spent a good 3-4 months on the streets starving, so she’s very food motivated (obsessed) and will eat just about anything (ironically she likes plain cabbage so take that cornelius). she has a bit of a problem with thinking anything you’re not protecting or focusing on is for her, so if u hold ur hand out she’ll take food out of it, or if u leave a plate of food on the coffee table she’ll wait for an opportunity to help herself. i’d really like to see Coryo’s aneurysm if reader’s dog ate food she made for him out of his hand. he’d look down on it for begging because he is NOT sharing.

not to mention i think he’d be a little upset that this moppy rat takes up more of reader’s attention than he does. like why does a dog get homemade treats and dinner, and gets to sleep on his girl’s bed every night??? wdym that’s the dog’s pillow and blanket and he can’t move it??

but i think a dog would fuel his ego a bit. after the mandatory treats he has to give the dog so it gets over the fact that he’s a man, the dog would *love* him. i mean, forcing itself in his lap and trying to push him off readers bed so it can snuggle with him. sitting next to him while he’s eating. reader telling him it sits by the door and cries after he leaves.

WAIT THIS IS SO CUTE :(((

I don't have anything to add just :((((( this is so cute :(( I think Coryo is a cat person but he'd secretly love a dog if his girl did :(((((

[myshiptrashcan]

Director's cut of ⭐At His Side⭐ plleeaaasseee

I love how flushed out this au is. Which always begs the question, is there anything you wanted to add in and didnt get the chance? Or anything that you unfortunately had to cut bc it didnt fit?

Hmmm. I did think about what the main story would be like if they were wing people. If they fell in the earth, then why not fly out? I figured the battle would keep one from flying not wanting their wings to get shot.

Like Merwin getting stuck in the wire and his wings are fucked. Keeping most of the characters grounded is causing me to really think. Like when Rachel fell why not fly? Were her wings slightly hurt causing Eric and her to use climbing gear instead. Obviously they need space for their wings to fly as well.

I did want to talk about Zain and Jason relating to each other more on how they feel about their wings and their parents . But instead I only made it a conversation they had that Salim heard as he woke up in little pieces. How Zain hates that he looks like his mother, his face and his wings and wishing with all of him to be like his father that he just adores. And if course Jason pointing out just how much alike Zain is to his father.

Sometimes it feels like they don't even have wings in this story. I honestly would have liked to draw better things for the story just to flesh everything out more. This world is built mostly the same as our own. I did mention things like proper baths and beds are something you have to pay more for. Bird baths and nests.

I actually added a few things to the story than I had intended. Like Jason being a Star trek fan. Which I have a wing au for as well lol.

I did want some kind of interaction between other strangers, them looking at Jason and Salim and perhaps causing some sort of trouble.

I did do more research than what was necessary for a fanfiction. Hours worth of studying for like a paragraph of words.

Also while Jason's military contract is probably the second shortest you can pick, he does have to go into base. Not sure if marines have drill, as my knowledge comes from my mom being in the Army national guard. But light military work is something Jason still has to do. Also also, maybe one or both of them finding a kind of job to do. Not wanting idle hands.

Wish I would have mentioned their nightmares a little more. It's the reason they're sleeping in the same bed together after all. Idk.

I didn't really want their relationship to be so focused on physical attraction but I did put some in there a little bit. Wanted to make their love feel a little deeper.

Jason has more stuff going on internally in ways of conflict and misbeliefs, while Salim's has more to do with perceived rejection of love while at the same time dealing with the trauma and shame of having his wings forceful clipped on top of the shared trauma of the temple.

Zain felt like a fun character to write for the first time, considering how little we know of him in game. I had hoped to get across how much he connected Jason with his mom. Even though he knew that Jason was not in fact his mother. Human brains are funny like that.

I do think Jason's father was interesting for me. Because while at first Jason saw only the bad, Jason's father did have many moments in his life where they actually cared and loved each other. Jason having happy memories with someone who at the same time hurt him so much is interesting to me. Idk. For as much as Jason resents his father he still loves him and still has this need for his approval, idk.

Oh and how I wanted to call Nick, Eric and Rachels new relationship the three kings even though I don't think they all can marry. Them three were all dating for sure. I did keep Rachel a bitch though in this. So she didn't really care for Salim in this story. Eric being a romantic legit thought that Jason and Salim were a thing and because he wanted them to succeed he did try his best to help Salim out too.

Jason's friends legit thought that they were a bonded pair. And although Salim didn't really lie about Habibi, Jason eventually used it as a affectionate term on his own. Which is how the word is used anyway. He felt like it was his little cheat at calling Salim darlin'. Which is funny because he was.

As it is. I always actually quite satisfied with the story and for the most part wrote everything that needed to be written. But I think that's all, at least all I can think of at the moment.

Thank you for the ask!!!

[queen-scribbles]

#YEEEESSSSSSS WHAT AN AMAZING GIFT 🥰💖🥰💖🥰💖#god I don't even know where to start it's all so good#tragen and marii understanding each other so well they can communicate without words or using the force YES#marii having a voice-kink and competence-kink and struggling to keep her mind out of the gutter while tragen gently threatens people YES YE#when brin actually thought he'd trapped them! 😂 alexa play 'now you fucked up' from whitest kids you know#the action! the fighting and the chase sequence! their banter! 😘🥰 YES YES YES YES#the contrast of tragen being so calm and in control as he casually wins 4v1 fights and sprints down hallways without even getting winded#vs aramarii 'force-assisted recklessness' wrinn ripping out wires and stabbing consoles and barreling around corners#him preferring to travel in her ship because his is too gloomy and scares people 😭 darling boy you would've made such a good jedi#(give her a hydrospanner and a week and she can fix it up. she's already planning a shopping trip to bed bantha and beyond with vette)#does he KNOW how sexy his voice is? that he could melt her into a puddle reading space-ikea instruction manuals?#or is he genuinely unaware of the power he wields? thank the stars he's not the type to use it for evil#okay I better stop before I write an entire tag novel 💖💖💖 I'm gonna go eat some cake and read this like. 30 more times

@haledamage I'M SO GLAD YOU LIKED IT. :D I did some poking around in Marii's tag for details and personality stuff but didn't have time to read everything, so I'm happy to have done her justice. 💖 (cut for length)

I love couples who know each other so well it's like they read minds or share thoughts, it's so good. They would clean up at one of those game shows where you have to writ down your partner's answer to a bunch of questions. xD I cannot blame Marii for any of those kinks bc they're all very fair ones to have wrt Tragen. Competence is extremely sexy. 😂 (I might have a bit of a Thing for the M!Warrior's voice. Just a little one. That may have bled through. I mentioned it was self-indulgent, right?)

And I've long headcanoned for Tragen's own universe--and now this one apparently-- that they don't make it common knowledge he has less of a Force connection than your average Jedi/Sith. Might be perceived as weakness yada yada. And people he fights are too busy trying to survive to notice he's like 95% martial skill/5% Force use. This is just one more benefit; someone like Brin goes "How do you catch a Sith? Get him away from his lightsaber and cut the Force and he's nothing" aaaannnnnnddd they're Very Very Wrong. >:3 I love the contrast between Tragen and Marii's personalities, and their complementary roles in escaping(I had to throw in combat. It's my Brand now) were so fun to work out. The thing about Tragen's ship is another long standing headcanon, and Vette will be thrilled to help Marii redecorate. She's already complained about it being gloomy multiple times before the end of the class story. xD (Now I want to write Marii "kidnapping" Vette for a girls' day which just means giving the Celestial Dawn a makeover and Vette's practically dancing with excitement the whole way through Bed Bantha and Beyond(I'm laughing at that again jsyk) bc she's wanted to do this for a DECADE, why didn't you start dating him sooner?!?!? shush with your logic about Emperor's Wrath and Jedi Battlemaster etc

Tragen is... aware some people(Marii included) find his voice attractive. He is NOT aware of just HOW Attractive. We are very lucky he's at least partially ignorant and not the type to use it for evil even if he fully understood bc holy HELL could he conquer galaxies. That voice? His charisma and diplomatic skills? the Arms? YEAH.

[ryuichirou]

Hey Ryu! \ (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)/

Hope ur having a great day/night!

I rlly enjoy the head cannons and angst ships! Tho I recently read ur past VilxRook angst post and thought I'd give it a little shot for myself but with Azul x Idia and Idia x Ortho. It took a bit of courage for me to create this scenario bc it's a bit sensitive to me (not bc it happened to me or anything I just think it's horrible and dark) but this didn't leave my mind so I wanted to share it with u.

I was wondering what if Azul made Idia a victim of human trafficking? I see Azul as a person that would do anything for money. Idia is one easy resource, especially bc of their marriage now. I imagine after they got married by signing the papers, Azul at the time was probably think of how he could milk Idia from his wealth. Not completely ofc, but to the point where he is in control of it. Idia can provide for him in many ways (business wise), but Idia can also provide for him in bed. Tho what Idia does for him is enough, he probably thought "Why not kick it up a notch?~". He sumhow tricked Idia into agreeing with it since he is a master manipulator then made a business out of Idia. Idk if Idia would have enjoyed it or not but let's say he didn't to keep the dark side of this going. Ik Ortho would have noticed the bruises and forced hickeys/bites on Idia's body at sum point. Idia would just brush it off and say it's just from the others. Ortho would have brushed it off too since he knows Idia's relationships. If only Idia didn't act so off, he would have agreed. Ortho would catch on to the situation, stalking, watching, and realizing what's going on. He would probably confront Idia Abt it and force him to respond out of concern. Idia would break down and confess to what's going on, even exposing the fact that Azul made him do it. Or Ortho would probably connect the dots in his own and figure out that this was Azul's doing. What would Ortho do then? Now that he knows all of this information. What will he do with it?

Ofc the Leech brothers have a part in this. I wonder if they would think of this as a way to have fun or they genuinely feel guilty but can't do anything bc whatever Azul says goes? (Sort of funny how taller and more athletic they r compared to Azul- They could rip Azul to shreds if they wanted to but they won't for obvious reasons.)

That's all I had in mind. Hope this is sumwhat entertaining for u to read and replay to! (⁠ㆁ⁠ω⁠ㆁ⁠)

(Also I don't mind waiting for ur reply. I just care that u enjoy my ask with ur own opinions and have fun with whatever u have in mind. No need to apologize all the time. After all, for me, it's an honor to get a reply from u! Plus, waiting for u just adds to the curiosity of what u will say! It's fun for me! (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡)

Have fun with this however u like! I'll wait for however long to hear ur fun thoughts. Have a great night/day! ♡

Anon! First of all, thank you so much for sharing your thoughts despite the topic being sensitive, and thank you for being patient with us. We really appreciate it!

And damn this was a fun read, it has pretty much everything that we enjoy: Idia is suffering in the worst and the sexiest and the most cruel way possible, Azul is being a powerful manipulative money-grubbing asshole, Ortho being a concerned protective little brother that would stalk Idia for Idia’s best interest (obviously!) and the Tweels are also there lol

Speaking of tweels, I agree that it is funny just how easy it would be for them to rip Azul to shreds if they wanted. That being said, I think their main motivation would still be their own fun – what Azul is doing is fucked up and unfair to Idia, but also quite amusing, so they’ll play along. Their lack of empathy is a fun asset to their characters, in my opinion!

I also think that Idia is pretty smart, but also quite self-sabotaging and prone to accepting horrible treatment, so even though he is smart enough to see through Azul’s manipulations, he could also easily go along with his plans. Maybe it was to make Azul happy, maybe it was to make himself more miserable (out of guilt for any reason), maybe the isolation did its thing. Or maybe it tickles a kink he didn’t know he had~ Whatever it is, he is definitely a victim of Azul’s wonderful ideas

To answer your question, god I wouldn’t want to be in Azul’s shoes when Ortho finds out what’s going on. I think this entire situation is enough for him to want to fry Azul with lasers until he is reduced to dust. Ortho would need his precious Idia actually begging him not to kill Azul for him to calm down just enough to stop and think for a moment.

But, unfortunately for Azul, this is a “I won’t kill him, but I’ll make him suffer” type of situation for Ortho, because there is no bigger sin than forcing Idia to do something that he doesn’t want to.

The question is, is Azul smart and cunning enough to manipulate Ortho into thinking (or manipulate Idia into making Ortho think) that Idia is actually quite happy with the situation and that he wants to stay with his husband? The chances are slim (Ortho has a lie detector in him for fuck’s sake lol), but not completely zero. If Azul plays his cards right, the situation could continue for quite some time…

[sparkymalone]

Akefidbwidb sorry I want to yap about my kuzuhina aus they're in my head a bit too much(literally I got notes for them and others) I adore them and

So hajime is a barista and fuyuhiko comes in the bar daily bc why not it gotten to the point where hajime is excited to see fuyuhiko everyday and when he isn't he gets pretty disappointed when he does they talk half of the time and fuyuhiko takes him home when he feels like it

Fuyuhiko is a phantom thief and steals stuff for "reasons" and of course the police is hajime one day when fuyuhiko was about to steal something hajime caught him but fuyuhiko seduced him cause he can do that yk and hajime keeps trying to catch fuyuhiko but fails miserably however one day fuyuhiko came to hajime and hajime was ready to catch him until fuyuhiko gave him a necklace he stole "I grown to like you y'know?" And just flees

Hajime is an artist who wants a muse since he's dad was a muse half of his life and people got inspiration from him and hajime finds a beautiful man, fuyuhiko kuzuryu, hajime attempt asking him but would fail because fuyuhiko is always busy with other people but eventually fuyuhiko agrees and man hajime can't stop staring at him because fuyuhiko is so beautiful?! And plus fuyuhiko thinks he's pretty as well

So hajime was a regular boy until he found a bottle with golden glitter and when he opened it there was a wish maker which was fuyuhiko he had 15 wishes and a few months pasted and hajime was going to have prom and fuyuhiko was his plus one,hajime realize that he was in love with him and wished to let fuyuhiko be with him forever but he can't do that sadly so...he needs to figure something else

Kanamafu situation if you don't know kanamafu is a fanon ship between kanade yoisaki and mafuyu asahina they're in the music circle "25-ji Nightcord de" from pjsk and kanade wants to save mafuyu and kanade had grief because she believed her father's condition was because of her since mafuyu is emotionless and can't feel that much and mafuyu has family issues I don't really know how to describe them tbh but I do know that kanade wants to save mafuyu with her music mafuyu is emotionless and she forces a smile kanade knows she's hurting inside but at one point mafuyu leaves(?) her mom and moves in with kanade and they're whole relationship is still progressing for now now imagine that as kuzuhina

So fuyuhiko is a misunderstood wizard by the villagers they think he's magic is "evil" but really he's doing it to make people happy but in the end he isolates himself from people hajime was dared to go to the cabern fuyuhiko lives in he sees him and hajime actually stays and see him do his magic which makes fuyuhiko happy and hajimes friends mike and Athena thought he was dead and tried saving him but he was okay of course hajime sneaks out to see fuyuhiko without no one knowing

Fuyuhiko and hajime are dolls and figurines in a shop they can talk to each other but not to the shop owner who was makoto yep sometimes kids come in the shop makoto actually has a kid who comes in to play with them time to time the kid makes the two kiss for fun

Hajime was a curse due to a punishment made by some yokai god or sum and he was to be with a yokai all his life now the yokai was of course fuyuhiko and fuyuhiko annoys him literally every day but hajime was able to tolerate him because fuyuhiko was actually nicer then he expected and they share a bed (they probably cuddle)

"can a dragon and a raven reproduce?" Ibuki asked so I got a fantasy au which is like a little series my head been producing and the school hope's peak academy is turned into Fantajī hope academy and the characters turn into mythical creatures or fantasy creatures like ibuki is a banshi kazuichi is a shark makoto is the son of a moon god and fuyuhiko is a dragon whose the son of the dragon king(natsumi is a wyvern since they're mom is a wyvern)and hajime is a raven just a common one hajime and fuyuhiko are Inlove and they already have a establish relationship however fuyuhiko disappear after summer so hajime and the gang try saving him in a city where fuyuhiko was born :)

Sorry I was yapping about my kuzuhina aus lol I really need to share it with someone

Wow, that's a lot of AUs. You have a lot of fun ideas! Don't be sorry, I love hearing other people's ideas ❤️

[saetoru]

TEE!!!! i am coming directly into your askbox to scream about the latest rb! gojo fic! aND LIKE!!! the knowledge that you had posted it literally got me outta bed this morning and i read it on my phone with one hand as i was getting ready and the fic!! it beat me up!!! cut me bit by bit until i was only a pile on the ground!! dadjo is terrible for forcing them (or at least trying) to break up!! preying on the class difference and reader's insecurity over it!! honestly, if anything he should be impressed because reader is a very smart cookie and a hard worker. iirc they were working two jobs at one point??? VERY IMPRESSIVE. dadjo can't even do one job right smh.

he was soaked to the bone. yes. good. nothing like a sopping wet man on your doorstep. LMAOOO but. augh. when reader mentioned how his dad was involved gojo got so mad that i thought he was actually going to storm off (and then come back again) but luckily he didn't.

when he was yelling and demanding to know why reader broke up with him, i kind of thought of that piece where he convinces them to stay until morning and they finally make it official— when he's demanding to know why reader won't consider a relationship and he's almost yelling and reader tells him not to yell at them… and then here, the narration mentions how he never yells and like, i don't know if that was intentional or not, but if it was… well, he's commited so much about the reader to memory that it would make sense he'd remember something like that.

and then there's this line: they’re bright and kind and deeper than the ocean. but unlike the ocean, they’re not scary to fall into, to lose yourself in no matter how far you are from shore. that one made me think of the sunglasses piece because the same comparison is made in the narration— how gojo's eyes are like the depths of the ocean, but in that fic/drabble, they're something scary. and like. it's a very cool writing thing and it makes me wanna scream LMAOOO.

ANYWAY I'M SO GLAD THEY DIDN'T STAY BROKEN UP FOR LONG AND THAT DADJO GETS HIS. reader definitely should have talked to gojo, but they can make it up to him by remaining by his side for the rest of their life hehe. dadjo should just accept reader because like, at this rate, some disowning is going to happen and the gojo family will have no heir (either satoru disowns the family or they disown him) but he'll be okay because he has his brains and reader (or the grandparents will get involved and give dadjo what he deserves!!!)

this is probably way longer than the 30 tags that stupid tumblr ate, but honestly speaking, i absolutely love the rich boy! gojo au so much. so so so so much and i'm so glad that you've been kind enough to share it with us all! (low key i want to know more about the pre-relationship times… but i want to know it ALLLLLL)

NIKU CRIES SOOOO HARD 🥹 i have to be so honest with you—i don’t even rmr the “don’t yell” part in the old fic ndkajdjd BUT the metaphors ab his eyes was revisited yes !! i think ur making me look like a more purposeful and skilled writer than i actually am fjsjfjf i wish i was that good at tying old things in. that would be the dream.

BUT HIS DAD WAS SO RUDE. it’s the way i wrote him and he still hurt my feelings 😭 he should respect reader bc they FOR REAL are hustling out here in this rough economy LMAO. but honestly reader is like. my new crush LMAO idk if i wanna be them or be w them

but gojo being a wet little soggy mess made me envision him as like. a soaked catjo hehe i love catjo he’s my fav ever i wanna buy a plushie of him but they’re like 40 dollars 😭😭😭 and i’m too cheap to spend 40 on a plushie LMAO

omg but also. i feel like writing an angry gojo was new for once u know ?? bc he’s always been soooo patient w reader and always let them doubt him and their relationship and was so precious and sweet ab reassuring them that sometimes i rly sit there and think like. damn this boy rly been thru it 😭 he was head over heels from the start and he rly had to fight his way into their life SOBS so i was like for once we’re gonna get a not perfectly sweet and patient gojo. tonight he’s gonna be an angry and emotional wreck SOBS. it was fun tho writing him that was. it was cathartic in a way.

but reader should have sooo talked to him sobsob. i think honestly that gojo wouldn’t have really been kicked from the company / inheritance bc then who would get it you know ?? i think dadjo was more trying to prey on readers innocence / insecurities and make them feel like they were powerless and had no choice but to do what he says and hope he’d get away w it EXCEPT SATORU IS ONE DETERMINED BOY LMAOOOO so he definitely underestimated his own sons stubbornness fjsmfjsj

i’m glad they got back together tho. i say that like i didn’t plan for them to from the start 💀 but to be so honest with u at one point i was kinda stuck on how i’d make them meet and talk and how the whole resolution would even happen. i think it was a bit rushed but i was tired and i was like eh. ppl will get the idea. BUT IM GLAD THEYRE TOGETHER BC I WOULD DIE IF THEY WERENT

and poor suguru 😔 my man ain’t do nothing justice for him he got that insta remove 😔 i forgot to make reader follow him back LOLLLL

BUT I ADORE U SM NIKU UR COMMENTS AND TAGS ON RB! GOJO ARE HALF OF WHY WRITING IT IS SO FUN IN THE FIRST PLACE i am so beyond grateful for u reading it and supporting it especially bc that one gojo fic u write is genuinely one of my fav gojo works ever. i admire ur writing sm it means sooooo much that someone so talented reads and interacts w my works like this 🥹 hugs u sooo tightly 🥹

[emduo]

my personal hexxit hardcore hcs/thoughts. Grins

-pretend i added the hx! thing in front of their names here ok im too lazy to retype it . im talking about their mc characters not them as people. whatever .you understand

-both of them started off human but became hybrids. classic mcrp design choice . phil is a chocobo (mainly has the feet, wings, tail and ear feathers etc), he is mostly flightless but can float a little and runs and jumps way faster #hardcoreparkour. schlatt is a bighorn sheep (horns, hooves, tail) though it would also be cool to me if he looked more like the questing ram! not 100% sure yet. phil’s also either a gold or yellow chocobo 2 me <- ik black chocobos exist and would fit into his typical design more but shhhh I don’t care. this also is my justification for why phil was so fond of chocobos etc

-my justification for them being part mob is like. every time they hack into the server to revive themselves they have to take some kind of energy or matter from their world/living beings around them to replace the energy/parts of themselves that they lost when they died. like absorbing their life forces or whatever. i.e. schlatt first died landing on his feet so he grows hooves in their place, phil suffocated so i like to think that maybe his lungs/stomach/other internal organs changed a bit, and when they both died together they got exploded + died of fall damage so other various chunks of their bodies got transformed/replaced.

-basically. they look very out of place at first but over time they visually become more and more like the world around them. if i had the energy to draw this whole process it would basically just show not only their clothes and bodies changing, but their color palettes/art style transforming a bit as well until they match the world’s aesthetic more.

-speaking of aesthetic God i fucking love how hexxit looks and feels. the colors especially… just very simplistic and nostalgic and dreamy, idk how else to word it. probably feels that way bc it’s an older version of minecraft. tbh i listen to music a lot to get inspired for hxhc ideas and kubbi + gorillaz + some of philza’s stream playlist + random stereotypical dnd/old fantasy game music are my biggest inspirations

-i used to also draw parts of them as glitching and slowly losing chunks of themselves to represent them deteriorating over time from prolonging their lives unnaturally, not sure how to work that into their designs anymore but i still like it

-also they do Not just suddenly stop their adventure on episode 5 idc. im playing hexxit 2 myself and there’s sooo much shit they could go explore. in my mind palace pretending they fought the twilight lich or fell into limbo (like i did… ermph). and schlatt still has that fucking mirror. and they still live in that shitty r/malelivingspace ice cave with their ghost armadillo

-they do in fact share a bed and i never forgot that detail . its so silly to me. schlatt is hogging that entire blanket and randomly elbowing and kicking phil all night and it’s so miserable

-hxhc being canon to dsmp would not make sense at all but it’s really funny to me so ive added it to my belief system. they don’t even get to meet each other in dsmp afaik so who cares, plus i can’t remember shit about the revive book but that could explain why schlatt specifically would know how to revive people from the dead… red string on corkboard i know

-in my dreams i see that place….. pink door + lawn

[defenselesswriter]

@fighthaus replied to your post “Hey you! Yeah, you! Do you want me to write you a teen wolf prompt...”

bc its been on my mind for a week and i haven't had a chance to write: dydia canon au fake dating (im sorry i dont have a more specific prompt, that's just what's been on loop in my brain)

“Why are we doing this again?” Lydia asks, staring pointedly at Stiles whose idea it was in the first place.

“Because if Derek goes to see Satomi’s pack without a significant other than she’s going to pair him up with someone,” Stiles explains again. 

Derek isn’t completely sold on the idea, but he has to admit that Stiles has a point, which rarely happens. Or Derek rarely admits it. Both. 

“Only if Derek is okay with it,” Lydia finally says after the entire pack is silent. She looks to him for an answer.

All he can do is shrug. “She did it to Laura when we visited before the fire. He makes a valid point.”

She rolls her eyes, but it almost looks fond so he isn’t super upset about it. “But you’ve been used enough by women.”

“I would be using you in this scenario,” Derek points out. “Are you okay with it?”

She nods once. “If it helps you escape the awkwardness of being trapped with an obligatory set up then I will help you.”

“Awesome!” Stiles exclaims, clapping his hands. “Now, we have a week until he goes so we need to start working on sharing clothes or something for scent.”

Derek stares at him blankly for a moment before going, “You’ve thought this through way too much.”

“You’ll be thanking me when they can tell how much you two like each other by how much your scent is mingled,” Stiles tells him with his eyebrows raised. “Scott, back me up here.”

Everyone looks to Scott, who shrugs. “He’s kinda right. The last time I visited, she mentioned how much she could smell Kira on me and that we must really love each other so...”

Derek hates that Stiles yet again has a point. “Lydia can come over and borrow some of my clothes.”

“Do you think that will be enough?” Stiles asks, aiming his question towards Scott.

 Scott shakes his head and turns to Derek and Lydia. “You guys might have to start sharing a bed.”

Lydia sighs. “I’ll go home and pack a bag, assuming we’re sleeping at your place, right?” She looks straight at Derek with an eyebrow raised.

He blushes under her stare and ducks his head. “Wherever is best for you. I can sleep at your place.”

“Pretty sure my mom would have a problem with that,” Lydia tells him. “I may be over eighteen, but it’s still her house and I respect her rules.”

Derek nods, respecting Lydia’s decision. “My place then.”

She leaves Stiles’ kitchen presumably to go to her car and pack a bag for staying at Derek’s.

“Meeting adjourned?” Stiles asks.

“We’re done,” Derek tells him, not wanting to listen to anymore schemes the pack can come up with. Before anyone can say anything, he walks out to his car. 

That night, Lydia knocks on his door and walks in before he can answer. “Derek?” she calls out, looking around until she sees him where he is on the couch with a book in his lap. “Good you’re here. Now give me a t-shirt or something.”

“Demanding,” he comments but stands up anyway to go to his room.

Lydia follows closely behind with her duffel bag of clothes. When they get to his room she asks, “Where do you want this?”

“Anywhere,” he says with a shrug while he goes to his dresser and digs through a drawer, looking for his most worn shirt that has his concentrated scent on it. It’s an old green v-neck with the seam ripped on the right side of the V part of the shirt. He hands it over to Lydia.

Without warning, she takes off her shirt, throwing it on her duffel bag, which is when Derek immediately looks away. He listens to the ruffling of the shirt being pulled over her head before he looks back at her.

“Warning would’ve been nice,” he tells her with very little heat behind it.

She laughs and shrugs. “I figure we’ll be sleeping with each other for over a week. A little shirtlessness won’t hurt anyone. I’ve seen you naked, Derek, it’s not a big deal.”

He agrees it isn’t, but maybe it’s only a big deal because he wanted to look. No, that can’t be it. That’s definitely not it.

The first night is awkward. Derek is stiff on his side of the bed, and he knows Lydia is too. They don’t talk to each other, but Derek can hear her breathe next to him, and it doesn’t sound like she’s sleeping. In fact, neither of them really sleep at all, both getting up as soon as the sun rises.

“Well,” Lydia sighs. “Hopefully tonight will be better. See you then.” And then she leaves, still wearing Derek’s shirt.

The second night, it’s a little better. Derek curls onto his side, still keeping his distance from Lydia, but at least this time he falls asleep for a few hours. When he wakes up in the middle of the night, Lydia’s breathing is soft and steady like she’s sleeping as well.

They wake up a little after eight with soft smiles on both of their faces.

“See you tonight,” she says before leaving, wearing another one of Derek’s shirts.

The third night, it starts out fine, but Derek wakes up with a head on his chest and strawberry blonde hair in his mouth. He tenses for a moment until Lydia wraps an arm around his stomach. He relaxes and decides maybe the cuddling isn’t so bad. Plus, it will help mix their scents.

Every other night is the same after that, and Derek finds himself getting used to Lydia in his bed and smelling her perfume and scent on his sheets. He doesn’t admit that it’s a nice smell. 

Lydia comes back with a new bag asking, “Are you ready to go?” as she sets it down on the couch.

He picks up his own bag and gestures for her to lead the way. She picks up her bag again and walks out the door with him. They decided that they would take her car, more time for Derek to soak up her scent that way. Scott mentioned the last time they saw him that Lydia has Derek’s scent all over him, but he barely has her scent. 

Once he gets in the car, he starts coughing at the saturated smell of roses. “What did you do?” he asks. “Spray your perfume in the car?”

“I thought it would help,” she comments with a shrug but looks a little apologetic. “Is it not gonna help?”

He shakes his head. “No, it will. Just was strong for a moment.”

Luckily, the drive isn’t very long and they make it to Satomi’s within thirty minutes.

Satomi greets them in the driveway of her giant house seconds after they get out of the car. “Derek!” she greets with a wide smile. 

He walks over to her and shakes her hand. “It’s good to see you.”

Satomi pats his cheek, her smile growing soft. “You look so much like your mother.”

He puts a hand over hers and smiles back. Then he remembers the week of sharing a bed and how it was for a specific reason. “Satomi,” he says, taking a step back. “I’d like to introduce you to my girlfriend, Lydia.”

Lydia comes up to his side and pecks his cheek then steps closer to Satomi to shake her hand. “I think we met briefly last year during all the craziness, but I wasn’t Derek’s girlfriend back then so I guess I’ll let him reintroduce me as such.”

Satomi laughs, shaking her hand with both hands. “It’s a delight to meet you again, Lydia. And it’s a delight that Derek has found himself someone to share his time with.”

Lydia smiles as she takes back her hand, grabbing Derek’s instead and lacing their fingers together. 

“Let me take you on a tour,” Satomi says. “I know Derek has seen it all, but it’s been a while. There might be a few changes.” She winks, and they both laugh, following her inside. 

The house is big and beautiful. There are a few lingering scents, and it smells like what a pack house should smell like.

During the entire tour, Lydia keeps a tight grip on Derek’s hand, and he can’t tell from her heart rate or scent, but she seems nervous. He squeezes her hand back, hoping it gives her some reassurance. 

They all eat dinner together with the pack asking how the two of them got together.

“It was about four months ago,” Lydia says, taking the lead. “We were dealing with an omega, and Derek got really hurt. Once the fight was over, I took him back to his apartment and made sure he was safe and healing before I finally confessed my feelings for him. I was so worried and angry that he put himself in that kind of danger that I couldn’t hold in my feelings any longer.” She looks over at him with such fondness that he loses himself in the moment, thinking that what she said happened really happened.

In some parts, it was true. They did have a fight with an omega four months ago, and Lydia did take him home and look after him, but there was no big confession. There was a fight where she yelled at him for risking his life like that and that he should think of the people who care about him before doing that again. 

At the time, he didn’t put together that Lydia was one of the people that cared about him too, but now he sees it. He sees it in her eyes and the way she looks at him and the way she brushed the back of her hand over his cheek lovingly. It’s so obvious he doesn’t know how he didn’t see it before.

Something changes in her eyes the second he realizes that she has feelings for him. It’s surprise and then something else, something that curls her lips into a smile.

Maybe this relationship may not be so fake after all.