#works. which i know fairly well but just enough that i can probably explain it but would prefer not to

[chevaliermalfets]

OF COURSE the jury president for my candidacy exam is a magnetic materials guy

[runariya]

Beyond Probability JJK (m.)

summary: Matching with an idol? Unlikely. But with a 99% compatibility? Beyond probability. pairing: idol!Jungkook x f!reader genre: idolvers, S2L, fluff, smut rating: 18+, MDNI! warnings: fluff, fluff, a bit of self doubt, fluff, fluff, explicit sexual content, shower sex, unprotected sex, pls lmk if I forgot smth word count: ~ 4k

a/n: It’s a rly cute and short oneshot, light and mainly fluff, nothing too deep, no big words etc this time. Just had to get it out of my system since the idea’s been on my mind for months now (unedited bc I fell ill halfway through writing it 🤒)

a/n 2: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

Your biological clock’s ticking—has been for some years now—and even though you’re only now nearing 30, you’re painfully aware that the life you pictured as a kid might never come true.

It’s not like you’re unstable in who you are or what you’re doing. You’re fairly successful at your job, you’ve got your own place, and you’re more social than most people these days. Still, you’re only what most would call average-looking, and even though you’ve got a good career, you’re too soft to keep it up forever. You picture yourself more as a loving wife and mother than a corporate boss bitch climbing the ladder of success.

That’s also why your dating life has been rocky all along. Men see what you put out there, but they don’t like who you really are or what you want from life, which has left you single for most of it.

So, when a new project starts—after the K-pop industry finally acknowledges that idols need partnerships and a life of their own, and fans finally understand that these people are human too, that they deserve to experience love and happiness like everyone else—you decide to take your chances too.

Funnily enough, all the labels have teamed up, hiring not only the best scientists and psychologists from Korea but from around the world to create a program that can find ideal matches for their idols. Sure, science shouldn’t determine who you fall in love with, but… what if it could?

After being pre-selected—just to confirm you’re not some crazed fan—you’ve spent over two weeks going through tests. Recorded interviews, personality assessments, even physical evaluations… now you’re staring at your company’s computer screen, listening to Dr. Song explain the results through the phone. 

“Ninety-nine percent?”

“Yes. The chances of such a high compatibility score are next to impossible. We see it as a perfect match and would like to introduce you to your match.”

“Sure, of course.” Even though your voice is steady, you can feel your nerves flaring up like never before.

“Is tomorrow at 8 p.m. alright for you?”

“Yes, that works for me.”

“Perfect, we’ll see you then.”

Well, joke’s on you, you didn’t expect this outcome. 

Meeting an idol feels surreal, and the closer you get to 8 p.m. the next day, the more you can feel the anxiety and doubts inside you rising. Every last detail in Dr. Song’s calm, clinical rundown replays in your mind, the ninety-nine percent match, the endless rounds of testing, the surreal realisation that, somehow, all those numbers and algorithms miraculously spat out a name next to yours. 

You want to trust that there’s a reason for this, that somehow science isn’t just working with chance, but the tension of actually meeting someone this special is so overwhelming you barely notice yourself entering the lab building until you’re standing outside Dr. Song’s office.

“Right on time,” she chirps, giving you an approving nod. She seems to sense your nerves, and as she leads you down a hallway you’ve never been before, she gives you a reassuring smile. “I know this is all a lot. But he’s likely feeling the same way. The tests told us that he’s, well, quite like you.”

Her words would make you laugh in any other situation, though disbelief and a strange kind of comfort floods through you still. Like you. An idol, standing here in a lab somewhere to meet some random stranger, feeling just as out of place as you. You’re not sure of that but still like to think it must be true. 

You don’t have time to process it fully before you’re led into a quiet room with yellowish walls so plain they almost blur in the corners of your vision, a low, comfortable couch and a couple of chairs standing there and none of the lab equipment that surrounded you in the testing rooms all those weeks ago. 

And then you spot him, sitting on the couch, alone. He stands the second you walk in, hands half in his pockets, a slight, almost unsure smile grazing his lips as he glances down at you. He’s got that casual look about him, the same dark eyes you’ve seen a hundred times on a screen that somehow feel warmer and more human here. 

He looks not quite better than he does on screen, but not worse either. Somehow, he’s realer, if that’s a word—close enough that you can see the little flecks of colour in his irises, the slight tension in his posture, the faintest trace of nerves hiding under his composure.

“Hi.” Jungkook’s voice is lower, softer than you expect from an idol. “Nice to meet you, I’m Jungkook.”

“Nice to meet you too. I’m ___.” There’s a pause, and you can tell he’s just as unsure what to do with the space between you two as you are. The click of the door makes you turn around briefly, only to realise Dr. Song has left you both alone. “This is, um, weird, right?”

He nods, a quick, breathy laugh breaking through. “Very. I mean, this isn’t exactly a ‘normal’ kind of meeting, right?”

His words are awkward but disarming, and suddenly, you’re aware of all the tiny, meticulous details of him that somehow make him feel more relatable than his polished, on-screen persona. The way his hand keeps moving to rub against his thigh or abs, his tongue playing with his lips and piercing ever so slightly—everything about him is familiar but also somehow close enough to feel completely new.

“I don’t think I was ready for this,” you admit. You aren’t really talking to him but more like letting your own thoughts slip out in the safest way possible, like saying it makes it feel less absurd.

“Honestly, same.” He laughs, and you think there’s a light flutter in your chest now. “I kept thinking about this whole ninety-nine percent thing. Like… how does that even work? Isn’t it supposed to feel, I don’t know, obvious? Like you know the moment you see someone?”

You nod, understanding exactly what he means, and somehow you move on autopilot, walking towards him and sitting down on that couch with him beside you. It feels like you should both somehow know, like there’s a sign or an instant connection, something that would make all of this feel simple, easy. But it’s just the two of you in a quiet room, barely knowing each other, held together by nothing but a number on a report.

“Yeah, that’s so wild. I didn’t think I’d have a match, this close to a hundred even less. Might be a glitch if our score is this high.”

Jungkook nods with sparkling eyes, seemingly relieved by your honesty and humour. “Yeah, I get that. I kept thinking about it too. Wondering if maybe the tests were wrong, or maybe I was just…thinking too much.” He lets out a sigh, his gaze meeting yours for a long, meaningful second. “But I think maybe this is about finding out, right? Not having it all make sense right away.”

“Hm, makes sense.” You giggle, because what else can you do in the presence of him.

The two of you sit there in a momentary silence, as if testing each other, feeling out the small boundaries that keep you both distant.

“So, what did the report tell you about me?” You ask the question half-jokingly, trying to break the quiet, but also curious. You want to know what he knows, how much of this supposed ninety-nine percent compatibility is actually something that either of you feel. 

He lets out a silent breath, looking down as if slightly embarrassed. “Honestly, not as much as you’d think. They told me you were kind of… soft-spoken but resilient? And that you have a job that’s, uh, stable and…” He trails off, the tips of his ears slightly pink, like he’s embarrassed to keep going.

“And?” You can’t help but push further—not maliciously, just way too curious and playful for your own good. Jungkook’s expression shifts from embarrassed to surprised, and then to a look that’s just as playful.

“And that we’re, apparently, very much sexually compatible.”

Really, you should be the one feeling embarrassed or shy now, but you can’t help the laugh that slips out. You know exactly what he’s hinting at—your report clearly showed the same.

“Well, it might be not wrong. And they told me…” You pause, realising that you barely remember the details in the face of the reality in front of you but alas. “They said you’d be a good match because, I think, there was something about humour?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Humour? Never heard of it.” And it makes you laugh all over again. “I feel like they just told us things we’d want to hear, to make it seem easier and normal.”

His words hit close to home, but they’re strangely comforting in the way he says them. You reckon, he’s just as bewildered by this as you are, maybe even more so. And somehow, in the middle of all the awkwardness, you find yourself genuinely smiling at him, naturally gravitating towards him, finding that there’s a softness and reassurance in his gaze, a gentleness that cuts through your nerves like a knife through melted butter in the sun. 

You start talking more freely after that, exchanging stories that are too mundane to make sense in any real context but feel right here. You tell him about your last trip to the beach, how you got sunburned and spent the whole evening sitting on your balcony, nursing it with iced water and aloe, wishing for a helping hand that you didn’t have. He laughs, nodding along as if he can picture it exactly and tells you about how he tried to make pasta he ate in Italy for the first time a few months back and ended up burning the whole batch, because no one was by his side, so badly his kitchen smelled like smoke for days.

The more you talk, the more you notice the little things about him that aren’t so polished, aren’t so perfect, and make him feel more human and real than anyone you ever met. He has a way of listening, eyes intent on yours, like he’s trying to pick apart every word to understand it better. When he laughs, it’s with his whole face, even body, not the careful, composed look of an idol but a natural, carefree laugh that makes you feel like maybe he’s as relieved as you are to be here, to have someone he doesn’t have to impress. 

At some point, you both lapse into a comfortable silence, each lost in your own thoughts but somehow still connected. The tension from earlier has faded away, replaced by a soothing aura you know you don’t want to miss for a day in your life.

Eventually, Jungkook glances over at you, his eyes sucking you in without much resistance. “I kept thinking this would feel forced, you know? Like we’d be sitting here, struggling to find anything in common.” He leans back, drapes his arm around the back of where you’re sitting, glancing up at the ceiling as if searching for the right words. “But… it doesn’t feel that way. You feel… I don’t know, right?”

The slight flutter in your chest has now swelled into a full-blown hurricane, and you’re not sure if it’s that ninety-nine percent compatibility causing it. But you don’t let yourself think too much—not when you’ve both been inching closer with each word, not when you take a chance and lean in, resting your head against his side. Especially not when his arm settles directly over your shoulder, pulling you a little closer, his other hand finding yours, fingers intertwining just to see how it feels.

“Yeah, it feels right. I really like this.”

As you absently play with his fingers, breathing in his scent for the first time and deciding it’s like heaven, you let yourself trust science. Because this feels like exactly where you’re meant to be.

While the first meeting with Jungkook went better than you’d ever hoped, you’re painfully aware of your overthinking nature. Overthinking in a way that makes it painfully clear there are countless women out there who, on the surface, would seem a better visual match for him than you.

Overthinking to the point where you wonder why Jungkook would even need matchmaking when he could so easily choose a partner on his own. It’s also why staying focused at work isn’t exactly easy today, knowing that soon his label will be sending a car to pick you up for your next meeting with him.

You understand the precautions they’ve taken and completely agree it’s better to meet in a private, safe space rather than making headlines this early on. That’s why, as the tinted car arrives, you feel a bit more at ease than you have all day.

Soon enough, you’re driving down the path to the label’s underground garage, and while you fix your makeup real quick, the car comes to a stop. The driver nods and guides you towards the lift, where the lights are dim and everything has this quiet, professional atmosphere you’ve only seen on screen.

You try to take it all in, letting your thoughts settle just a bit more as you follow through to the hallways upstairs, past doors labelled with room numbers and studios, and then finally, you’re outside the door to Jungkook’s studio, right where you’re supposed to meet.

Your heart beats a little faster as you hear Jungkook’s familiar voice call out, “Come in,” and when you open the door, you find him leaning casually against the chair before his equipment with an easy smile that somehow manages to be both happy and slightly flirty. 

Again, Jungkook’s dressed just like uniquely him, with a few silver rings glinting on his fingers. And while you didn’t think he’d even get up to greet you, he steps forward and embraces you in hug so tight, it leaves you drowning in him. 

“Hey,” he greets with that disarming grin, eyes boring into you, taking in your formal work attire, as he gestures to the coffee set up besides his laptop. “Hope you don’t mind the casual vibe.”

You laugh a little, settling onto the free chair beside him, feeling a bit strange but somehow not. “I think it’s perfect. And to be honest, I don’t think I’d cope well with the whole five-star dining treatment and whatnot.”

He laughs, nodding in agreement, taking your purse from your hands and draping it casually over the back of his chair. The fact that he’s still so attentive, even though he’s clearly in his element here but completely relaxed, is rather fascinating and pulls you in even more.

Like the day before, talking with him comes easy, and while there’s nothing groundbreaking in your conversations, every word feels meaningful in the bigger picture.

Eventually, you feel yourself relaxing like you were at home by your own, getting comfortable enough to let out the thoughts that have been swimming in your head since last night. “I’ve thought a lot about how all of this could play out,” you admit, taking a sip of your coffee, trying to find the right words, though knowing there won’t be any wrong words when talking with Jungkook. “And honestly, I’m not really interested in taking things public if they did work out. I know that’s probably strange to say, but I’m not cut out for the spotlight.”

He tilts his head, watching you thoughtfully. “No, it’s not strange at all. I get it.”

A small smile tugs at your lips as you go on, “I just want something real. A partner who’s loyal, someone who’s there because we get each other, not because we’re some public ‘it’ couple, parading around every chance we get. Does that sound crazy?”

He shakes his head, while he swings from one side to the other.  “Not at all. That actually sounds perfect to me.” There’s a sincerity in his tone that makes you feel, for the first time, like there’s some truth to your report. “The whole ‘idol’ thing is just a job. It’s not who I am, not at the core. And having someone who sees it that way, is what I want too.”

It elates you to know that you could have something like this, with him,  someone you could genuinely share your life with.

Then, in a thoughtful voice, he asks, “What do you want for the future? I mean, outside all of this.” 

You take a breath, feeling a little nervous but wanting to be honest. It’s not like it’s news to him, seeing that this information’s written in the report he was handed. “I want something traditional. A home, a family, maybe staying home with kids, having that steady, grounded life. It sounds simple, I know, but it’s what I’ve always pictured.” You look up at him, expecting maybe a hint of judgement, but instead, you find him nodding, his eyes lighting up like a candle in the night.

“I don’t think that sounds simple at all, but meaningful.”

A shy smile forms on your lips as you add, “Sometimes I feel like people don’t see that side of things anymore, you know? Like everyone’s so focused on careers and success and everything else… and I get that, I do, but I’ve always just wanted something steady. Something I can hold on to.”

His hand finds yours, his fingers like second nature intertwine with yours, and the gesture is so simple yet so heartwarming that you feel like squealing out of happiness. “That’s exactly what I want too.” It’s nothing new to you too, but him saying that, seeing the honesty in his eyes, is better than any data shown to you. “I want that sense of home.”

You feel yourself falling a little harder, a little faster, and maybe that scares you a bit. You’ve seen the kind of attention he gets, the kind of girls that throw themselves at him, and it’s hard not to let those doubts creep in. Especially now. “I know this probably sounds insecure,” you start awkwardly, glancing away, “I think, I don’t know, maybe I’m not the kind of person someone like you would go for. I mean, you could have anyone, and not just because you’re an idol.”

He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb tracing soothing circles against your skin. And while his mouth opens to say something, the pull against your hand surprises you as much as him settling you in his lab. “Hey, don’t think like that. I’m here because I want to be. And trust me, I’m not looking for ‘anyone’. I’m looking for someone who gets me. And that someone is you, no?”

The look in his eyes is so genuine, so unguarded, that it’s hard to keep your heart from doing all sorts of stunts. He’s not the polished idol right now; he’s just Jungkook, being flirty, being compassionate, being so him, sitting in a cosy studio with his tattoos, his piercings, his moles, his beautiful smile, his whole presence more comfortable and inviting than you could have imagined.

And as he sits there, looking at you like you’re the only person in the world, you realise that you definitely don’t have to doubt this. Maybe it’s okay to let yourself believe that he’s here because he wants to be, that he’s falling for you irrevocably just as you’re falling for him. 

“Sooo… that means?” You know you need to be brave now, because if this isn’t a dream, you’d never forgive yourself for not taking the leap.

“That means, if you want to, I’d love to have you as my girlfriend.”

“Isn’t it a bit rushed?” You don’t actually think so, but you still need to be sure.

“I’m all in if you are. I don’t want to waste any more time, and even though it’s just a report, I can feel there’s real truth behind it.”

Fast forward seven months, and you find yourself pressed against the shower wall like you do every night. But this time, it’s different—just hours ago, you made your first public appearance on a music show with Jungkook, just because you both felt ready, where he was not only nominated for Best Singer of the Year but won as well.

“Koo, right there, right there.”

It still amazes you how his cock seems to find your g-spot as soon as he enters you, though you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Yeah? Right there, hm? Or is it…” he trails off, shifting his hips ever so slightly, making you realise he’s actually hit the centre point of your g-spot now, his hard, unrelenting thrusts pushing you over the edge without warning.

“Oh my goooddd,” your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open against the cool shower wall, as your cunt keeps gripping him even though it’s already creaming around his cock.

“Good girl, keep going, love. Show me how many you can take tonight.”

There’s nothing you can do, not that you’d want to do anything other than let him rearrange your insides. Especially not when his tattooed hand finds its way from the back of your hair to your jaw, tilting your head to the side, giving you the perfect view of his upper body—rivulets of water cascading down his chiselled form, lips parted, eyebrows furrowed. 

He’s the epitome of perfection. Not just a ninety-nine percent but a hundred. 

His eyes, though hooded, bore into your soul as his hips pick up the pace. It’s this connection you share with him make being with him feel so special.

“Koo…”

“I know, love, just a bit more. Can you be a good girl?”

“Yes,” you moan, because hell, you can. “Yes, for you…ah, winning the trophy.”

Even though you shouldn’t feel his cock twitch with the pace he’s set, you do, realising instantly what he needs tonight.

“Best singer, Koo…fuck…best boyfriend, only fucking me when, hmm, the whole world wants a piece of you.”

“Only you. Always you, ___, love.” You think you catch him licking a drop of saliva from his lips as he stares down at where your bodies connect, sending another wave of arousal from your stretched-out hole.

“You’re so big.”

“Just for you, fuck, squeeze a bit more.”

It’s not that you did it on purpose, but when his hand shoots down to your clit, circling it just right, your body responds as though it’s never felt this good, soaking him even more and gripping him tight as a vice.

“Like that, love, like that.” Jungkook grunts and pants, holding you harder, tighter as his cock seems to swell even more, pumping frantically in sync with your impending second orgasm.

When Jungkook can’t hold back any longer, it’s all you need to let go too, the rush flowing through your veins just as fiercely as the love you feel for this man.

After some time, Jungkook pulls out, helping you straighten up and lean against his chest under the stream. His veiny hands trail down your body, washing away his release dripping out of you, as he plants kisses along the side of your face.

When he’s had enough, he, like always, turns you, brushing the wet strands of hair from your face. And as you do the same to him, captivated by how content and in love he looks, you can’t help but feel like the luckiest girl in the world when, for the first time, Jungkook declares his feelings.

“I love you, till the day I die, ___.”

“I love you too, and beyond.”

Because this, because having Jungkook calling you his, is beyond probability.

a/n 3: lmk what you think in any way you like! 👀 If you liked what you read, pls consider buying me a ☕️ Ko-fi.com/runariya 💕

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[lemonlover1110]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 23] Apologies

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

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“What do you need, Satoru?” You’re more than annoyed when you’re called into his office. You cross your arms, raising your brow as you look at him. The man looks a little too comfortable in his chair, and you’ve seem to stop caring about how he behaves. If you looked closer, you’d see him fidgeting with his fingers, something he rarely does.

“I was wondering…” He begins, and you feel yourself get more and more irritated by the second. He’s wasting your time. “Do you have any plans on Friday?”

“Work, and maybe take Ren to the movie theater to watch a new kids’ movie.” You answer, and at first you don’t understand why he asks. But then it clicks, and you find yourself even more irritated than before… He’s not planning on asking you out, is he? He’s not crazy enough to do that, at least you hope he isn’t. Satoru has changed a lot, you never know just how crazy he’s gotten.

“Can we go out?” He blurts out, tripping over his words and it almost makes you laugh because he’s so nervous. But then you realize that he’s actually asking you out, and you furrow your brows. 

“Ren is coming along, right?” You question before deciding to berate him. Maybe you’re reading things wrong, and you don’t want to argue with him for no reason, so you allow him to make himself clear. But he shakes his head, and you try to take a deep breath to gather your thoughts, “What do you want, Satoru?”

“I feel like we have to properly talk about everything, and sadly, we can’t do that when Ren is around.” Satoru says, and he isn’t wrong, but you don’t really want to fix anything if it means that you have to be alone with him for an extended period of time. You’re not sure what you’d do if you were alone with him, the moment you get your hands on him you might strangle him. 

“I don’t feel like it’s time yet, Satoru.” You tell him, and he bites his tongue. He thinks of how to argue with you, make a point that going with him is a smart decision. It’ll improve your relationship so you can be better parents to Ren.

“Ren notices there’s something wrong with us and he wonders why.” Satoru points out which isn’t a lie. When Ren was staying over he asked why you were so mean to him or something like that, and Satoru didn’t know how to explain himself. But he knows well that it isn’t the reason why he’s asking you to dinner. 

“Why don’t you tell him that it’s because his dad is a little–” You begin but you cut yourself off. You’re mad at him, you can’t deny that, but it seems that he just wants to make sure your relationship is better so you can parent Ren cordially. You have been rather mean with him lately, so you’ll control your tongue. “I just don’t see the point of going out alone, our relationship can get better with Ren there..”

“Don’t you want to talk about heavier topics? You’ll have to tell me what’s on your mind, and you know that having Ren there isn’t the best idea.” Satoru argues, and you hate the fact that he’s actually making a good point. “It’s a nice place.”

“Fine, just text me the address and the dress code. Don’t take me anywhere too fancy, I usually don’t like the food there.” You answer, and Satoru nods in response. He has very different plans. Ones that probably aren’t crossing your mind. 

Ren is fairly surprised when you tell him that you’re going out with his daddy– And you aren’t taking him along. He’s unsure what you could possibly do, but when he hears that he’s staying with your mom, he stops caring quickly. Ren loves spending time with his grandmother, so he doesn’t have an issue being with her all night. 

“Where are we going?” You ask Satoru when you get into his car, and he tells you that it’s a surprise. You’re not exactly excited nor do you wonder what the surprise is. The car ride is quiet, Satoru tries to make conversation that you don’t care to engage in even though you know you should. This is to talk about the issues that you have, but you don’t really want to talk.

He turns right, and you’re met with a gate which makes you furrow your brows. Where the hell did he take you? The gate opens and he drives into the place. The house is beautiful, you can’t deny it, but you have no idea why you’re here. 

“Why are we here?” You ask him when he parks the car. Are you here for business? The lights are on so you assume someone lives in the place. He’s fighting back a smile, getting out of his car and running to your side to open the door for you.

“We’re meeting someone here.” He tells you, and you almost roll your eyes. You should’ve known dinner couldn’t have gone so smoothly. “I promise it’ll be fun, nothing weird.”

“I have no option to trust you, do I?” You respond, following behind him after getting out of the car. You look at the house, one that you could only afford in your dreams. Well actually, it isn’t impossible now. Regardless, it’d take so many years of your own effort to buy it. 

You get confused when he opens the door with his own key, and you sigh, knowing that he’s just going to show off his new place. You step inside, and the place is bare, which is to be expected since it seems new. You clear your throat before speaking up, “Who exactly are we meeting?”

He grabs your hand, and you roll your eyes again but you don’t yank your hand out of his grasp. He takes you to the huge kitchen, and he points to the person you’re meeting. Satoru says, “This is our chef for the night. He’ll make whatever you want to eat.”

“Oh.” You’re fairly shocked, but you aren’t too mad. “Okay…”

“I hope it’s better than a restaurant.” Satoru laughs, trying to play it off as a thoughtful act. It is creative, and you can’t exactly complain. But you know that part of the reason he does this is because he doesn’t really remember what you like. “C’mon let’s take a seat. I’ll tell him what we want when you decide.”

“Well… What can I order?” You ask curiously, wondering what the chef has on hand. Sometimes you forget that Satoru is filthy rich and can buy out an entire grocery store without an issue. 

“He’ll make anything you want.” Satoru answers with a smile as he leads you to the dining room. It has a huge table, one that reminds you of his mother’s house. It’s huge, it can fit many people, but most of the time it’ll be empty. He waits for you to take a seat, knowing that if he takes a seat first, you’ll go as far away as possible. “When you decide I’ll tell him.”

“I really don’t know. You can pick.” You respond, pulling a chair and taking a seat. He takes a seat right beside you, and you tense up. You can’t help but point out, “You have so many other chairs.”

“We’re here to talk, are we not?” He tells you, and you roll your eyes. He isn’t wrong, but he doesn’t have to sit so close when there are so many other chairs. You don’t want him so close. He clears his throat before saying, “Dinner is for you, you can pick.”

“I guess…” You try to come up with something but you don’t. Satoru taps his finger on the table, growing impatient. “Can’t you just pick? I’ve already been forced to be here tonight.”

“Fine.” Satoru ends up sighing. He stands up and walks to the kitchen to put in his request, leaving you alone to stare at your surroundings. It’s a beautiful home, but you would change the little decorations that you’ve seen. It’s not up to you anyway.

You hear your phone ring, grabbing it from your purse. You notice that Suguru calls, and you debate on rejecting the phone call– You’ve been ignoring him for so long, but it’s about time you answer his call. Satoru is in another room so you can make it quickly. You end up picking up the phone, bringing it to your ear, “Hi Suguru.”

“Hi…” He answers, sounding shocked that you actually picked up the phone. “Can we talk?”

“Um…” You don’t know how to answer. You just know you have to do it before Satoru gets back because you’re not sure that Suguru hearing Satoru’s voice is a good idea. You don’t know your way around the house, but you stand up from your chair and walk out of the living room, just in case Satoru gets back and makes himself known. “Actually, I’m out to dinner with someone so I can’t right now… Do you want to meet up soon?”

“Yeah, we can do that.” He agrees. “So, what do you want to do?”

“How about we meet at a café?” You ask, and you hear Satoru call out your name, telling you that you have to hang up the phone. “I’ll text you the details, I have to go now. Bye.”

You hang up the phone, and turn around to find Satoru, who finally spots you. He raises his brows, asking, “Who were you talking to?”

“Does it concern you?” You reply which makes Satoru chuckle. He guesses it doesn’t. You two walk back to the dining room, sitting back in the same spots. You start off with a simple appetizer, and some drinks, food that you know Satoru loves. You eat in silence, and you’re forced to speak up, “You insisted that we have to talk, so talk, Satoru.”

“I want to… Apologize.” He begins and when he doesn’t get any more specific, you reply with,

“For?” 

“For…” It’s hard to get the words out even though he knows exactly what he should apologize for. He bites down his lip as he gathers his words. How can he say it without sounding like a total jerk. He blurts out, and you barely understand what he says, “For leaving you when you needed me without an explanation.”

“And?” You respond because he’s still missing a bit. You feel yourself getting more annoyed by his silence, and you have to take a deep breath to compose yourself. “I mean, you left me for money, is that the best you can do?”

“I just don’t know how to properly apologize, you should know I’m not used to apologies.” He claims, and you roll your eyes. Of course he says that instead of thinking of a way to apologize better. He watches you cross your arms, a look of clear anger on your face. “I shouldn’t have done that, I know.”

“You know? But you changed your number and completely cut me out of your life– And not for love, because as much as it hurts, I would’ve preferred you leaving me because you fell in love with someone else… Maybe I would’ve understood it better.” You begin, and you feel your heart break again. You thought you had gotten used to the fact that Satoru left you for his own financial benefit. “I don’t even get why you cut me off completely… Maybe if you had explained everything to me then maybe I could have stuck around but you decided that you wanted me out of your life completely.”

“I just thought you deserved to move on and forget about me.” Satoru argues, and your hands ball up into fists. He’s trying to save his own ass, and it bugs you. The benevolent Satoru. “I just didn’t know you were pregnant with Ren.”

“You know, Satoru, it hurts to know that you were fine with leaving me like nothing– And honestly I’m glad that you cut me off when I was about to tell you that I thought I was pregnant.” You feel tears well up in your eyes but you hold them back. It’s fine, you’re fine. You’re over it. You are. “Have I never been worth anything to you?”

“Of course you do, you are–” You cut him off before he can finish his sentence.

“Not just as Ren’s mother, because before that I was your friend and your girlfriend for so many years.” You try not to let it show that you’re deeply hurt, but it shows. It’s hard not to because the man that you swore you would spend the rest of your life with quickly disregarded your relationship… And the only reason he seems to regret everything is because of his son. “Was your love just a lie?”

“It’s not like that. You know that I love you so much.” He says and his words sting. How dare he say that he loves you? How does he have the audacity to say that? “I just…”

“Just what?” You don’t even give him a chance to finish his sentence. “Don’t you ever say that you love me again, Satoru.”

“You know my mom would’ve made your life miserable if I hadn’t gone with Sayo, in the end, I did what was best for the two of us.” Satoru argues, and you stand up from your chair. You can’t stand to be in the same place as him anymore. He watches you begin to walk away and he has to stand up as well, “Wait, let’s finish this, please. For Ren.”

“No, I have to go. I can’t stand to be in this place with you any longer. You’re so… Why can’t you just admit that you’re fucking selfish? Not only that, just admit that you haven’t cared about me, Satoru. I have always come second to you, and suddenly you’re acting like you aren’t at fault for this, that your mother forced you to make the choice when we both know that you made that choice all on your own.” It genuinely hurts you that Satoru ended up being a completely different person– Or maybe Satoru was this same person all along, you just hadn’t noticed it before.

“You’re right. I did. I made the decision all on my own and I can’t blame anyone else.” He finally admits, which should give you some satisfaction but it doesn’t. You’re taking deep breaths to stop yourself from crying but the tears are coming down your face. Satoru’s heart breaks as he finally watches you break down, and he steps toward you to comfort you. He pulls you into a hug, “I’m so sorry, please don’t cry.”

It’s so tempting to hug him back, but you can’t. You push him away, you don’t want to be met by his warm embrace; you don’t need his comfort. You wipe away your tears, “I’ll forgive you for Ren, but don’t you ever try anything with me.”

“Okay…” He responds, but knowing Satoru, the last part went in one ear and out the other. “C’mon, let’s sit down, our main course is almost ready.”

“I want to go back home to my baby boy.” You tell him, and Satoru sighs. He can’t argue and say anything that’ll make you want to stay a little longer, so he won’t keep you here.

“I also had a surprise for you.” Satoru mentions, but you aren’t really interested. “I’ll tell you when it’s more ready though, and when you’re less mad at me.”

“Let’s just go.” You respond, really not caring to ask. He doesn’t spark curiosity in you. Just as you begin to walk out of the dining room, your chef comes out with the main course. He sets it down on the table, and your eyes spark. You look back at Satoru a little shocked but you proceed to tell him, “I changed my mind.”

“Really?” He has to fight a smirk off his face. You really thought you had him read like a book, but perhaps you are wrong in some aspects. He jokingly asks, “Why is that?”

It’s your favorite meal.

[genderfluid-insomniac]

age regression!reader with the harbingers

a/n: this was for a request on ao3 but I post all of my works on both platforms (still updating the ao3 one)

THIS ISN'T A SEXUAL THING!! IF YOU MAKE IT ONE I WILL BLOCK YOU!!

Pierro

Usually seems stoic and uncaring but you know him better than most people being his little. Pierro was very understanding and a tad confused until you explained it, wanting to help in any way possible and buying anything you wanted (and more if he thought you’d like it).

Best storyteller as he’s seen so much as both the royal mage of Khaenri’ah and the director of the harbingers; so whenever you want a story and he’s free from work all you have to do is ask. He makes sure you have proper health and won’t budge if you want sweets but you haven’t eaten a meal yet. A strict but very kind and caring caregiver.

If probably one of the most protective caregivers of all. of the harbingers given that he’s got a big target on his back for a variety of reasons (being Khaenri’an, top harbinger, war crimes, etc.). He never leaves you alone if he has to leave which is almost never since he’s rarely sent on missions and is the one the harbingers report back to, keeping you in a side room off of his office within view of both of you and checking on your from time to time between meal breaks.

Pierro loves how small you are in his arms and how your eyes are full of innocence when you are little, if he could keep you with him he would. He has tons of blankets to keep you warm from the cold that seeps in from the harsh weather and makes large fires in the evenings as he does paperwork while you play on the carpet with your crayons and plushies.

Il Capitano

Now as much as he seems tough and cold, behind closed doors you know he’s ironically one of the softest people you’ve met and has said that he’d kill for you if anyone threatened to hurt you in either state (little or big). Capitano keeps you as much of a secret as he can in fear of something happening to you and also away from Childe because, from his point of view, he’s a fighting-crazed maniac and doesn’t want little you to be corrupted.

You are one of the only people to see his face and it’s gorgeous including all the scars and burn marks, cupping your hands on his cheeks and giggling as the soft smile he wears just for you. He has a small team of soldiers that watch you whenever he has to leave and they secretly adore you, gentle expressions watch over you as you play with the toys that Capitano gave you and snack on local fruits while an abyss mage blanket is wrapped around you.

He adores your sleeping face or when you’re yawning after a long day and settling down for a nap, Capitano’s very glad his head covering hides his face because he’s smiling so wide and looking so soft. He has a hidden talent for getting you to sleep in seconds and all it takes for it to happen is to whisper comforting comments into your ear while rocking you.

This man’s voice is shockingly deep and wouldn’t tell anyone but can sing fairly well however he only knows basic folk songs or songs he’s picked up from his travelers. He will only sing if he’s 100% sure he’s alone and is mostly silent around the other harbingers so only his soldiers and you get the honor of hearing his voice.

Dottore

The doctor loves little you no matter what age you are but does have a hard and fast rule which is no playing in his lab. Ever. He acts like he doesn’t care about humanity but he's such a hypocrite as he would kill for you.

In his lab, there is a corner that is sectioned off specifically for you to be in with toys, blankets, plushies, spill-proof food, and drinks however the fencing surrounding the corner is high enough that you can’t climb over it, and thin but strong material. So you can easily see whatever your caregiver is up to but stay safe and out of harm in case anything happens.

If fussy then he’ll usually have a segment around to comfort you and attend to your needs if OG Dottore absolutely needs to do Harbinger work which both of you don’t like for different reasons. There are rare times when what he’s experimenting with or on something (like shield potions or enhanced foods) that he deems “safe” enough he’ll let you sit by him and color or fidget.

You have a lot of perfect tools for your regression that work perfectly because Dottore has done trials of what you like and what you don’t like. For example, your favorite blanket you have is a big Pyro abyss mage fur blanket that he made and keeps you warm with the mage’s abilities infused into the fur. Currently, you’ve seen him working on a cryo version for the harsh cold of Snezhnaya when you want to go outside and play in the snow but he’s yet been able to infuse a cryo-resistant effect which frustrates him to no end.

He has a strange talent for knowing exactly what’s bothering you before you know it given his knowledge of the human body and anatomy, preventing any meltdowns before they happen and keeping little you happy and satisfied.

This man is very protective over you knowing if someone finds out the second fatui harbinger had a soft spot for a human then you’re going to be a main target for his destruction and that cannot happen. Very rarely leaves you alone when you’re little and has either a trusted fatuus or segment be with you until he can get back.

Like in Sumeru, Dottore wanted to bring you with him but couldn’t due to his work having to be his main focus and secretly being worried about the traveler or Sumerian guards hurting you. He ended up leaving in the care of Arlecchino who agreed but under certain circumstances for her own mission in Fontaine and she often had some of the children from the house of the hearth care for you when she had meetings. (Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet adored you and sent you letters or “magic” gifts when you had to leave)

Columbina

This goes without saying but has one of the best singing voices of all of them and has put some of her soldiers to sleep by accident when they’ve overheard her singing to herself since her voice carries. You have been put to sleep by her voice and melodies countless times you’ve lost track and little you really like her voice. So whenever she can she’ll bring you into her office, placing you in a short walled-off area beside her, and humming or singing a favorite song while she works to reward you for being good.

Since she is the third harbinger no one really knows about her strength and that includes you, very rarely have you gotten glimpses of her power, and its always when someone threatens you or dares to question why Lady Columbina keeps a child at her side. Your caregiver shields you from the violence of the world because you’re her little one, her light among the darkness and she’s your mommy, your angelic caregiver who makes all your wishes come true.

Columbina, despite being one of the strongest harbingers, is very weak to your big cute eyes pleading for another blanket, toy, of sweet she brought back from a faraway nation and she of course bends to your wishes. At times you’ve babbled about how you have your very own fairy godmother who wipes your tears and rocks you gently whenever you get fussy. She spoils you rotten and has no shame in it, having your own room attached to hers that is baby-proofed but also filled with everything you could ever need. The room looks almost like it’s made of clouds with pacifiers hung on the wall for you to grab and everything organized in a multilayered box that contains the softest comfort clothes, pull-ups, clean wipes, and noise-canceling headphones for overstimulation.

Another one of the harbingers that is very protective of you and will not hesitate to kill others if it means getting her little one back in her arms. However, she’s pretty confident about being able to protect you; so very rarely will be brought to a meeting and sitting on your mommy’s lap happily napping or relaxing in her big coat. Some of her other colleagues aren’t fond of you being in the meeting while others are very fond of you and as a gift one winter solstice, you were gifted your own big fluffy coat resembling your mama’s coat.

Arlecchino

She isn’t one for gifts but will give you the necessary things like toys, blankets, and eventually other things from neighboring nations that she thinks your little self would like. Arlecchino has everything in themes of the ocean because of her love for her homeland and has everything organized in a somewhat kid-proof box with some stray blankets or toys out for you to play with unless you want others. Whenever you’re regressed (normally in Fountaine since that’s where she mainly stays unless sent otherwise) she pretends not to notice her children Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet giving you gifts as well. Little you is very shy and happy so when you’ve been given a gift you blush looking up at them and timidly murmuring a “thank you” to whoever gave you a gift.

One of the most protective people out of all the harbingers and if anyone decides to fuck with her little one, doesn’t resist killing that person and genuinely is wondering if they’re stupid enough to attack someone close to a harbinger. She mostly brings you with her but on occasions she can’t she keeps you in her office with her most trusted soldiers. You’re comfortable with your favorite blanket and toy all bundled up in the corner babbling about with the innocent child look in your eyes that she loves completely safe. On occasion, she’ll have one of the hearth children come and play with you, those are the days you really look forward to because you rarely get playmates aside from your mommy.

Arlecchino rarely leaves on missions but when she does she leaves you in the care of some of her soldiers along with Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet to take care of you. They seriously love you and take care of you like their own sibling; Lynette of course spoils you with deserts much to Lyney’s dismay who amazes you with magic tricks and Freminet who tells you all about underwater animals. When Arlecchino does take you with her she keeps you with her at all times unless she has to go somewhere where you can’t go or it’s dangerous. In that case, she tells you to stay put at the base until she gets back setting you up with all the necessities and ordering some of her soldiers in and outside of the room.

Sandrone

At first, Marionette thought she had everything down by using her mechanical puppets to take care of you but that proved very wrong when you had nonstop tantrums and cried about wanting your real mommy claiming that these puppets were emotionless (which was true). She then had you with her at all times, including when she locks herself in her lab for hours on end focusing on her research and you’re right beside her with a puppet to bring you anything you want. You’re quite happy since you’re near your mommy and you can play and nap like you want, getting attention from time to time and when Sandrone wants a break she’ll bring you into her arms for a quick nap or cozy affections.

Is similar to Dottore about the necessities as she can pretty much make or get whatever you need and does “experiment” on you and it’s not what you think. She creates different blankets, pacifiers, and comfort clothes using different materials and learns what you like and what you don’t like. Her little one has a number of different toys (quite advanced and new) that she invented and some of them shockingly can respond to your babbles.

Since she brings you with her, where she’s traveling if there comes a time when anything dangerous happens she’ll use her main puppet that she sits on to open a sizable compartment where she’ll put her little in until the danger is over and then bring you out when this is over. Comforting you if you get scared and pulling out a small music box that sounds like your favorite song, running her fingers through your hair, and silently rubbing shapeless figures on your back.

Tartaglia

Oh my gods, this man doesn’t stop giving you gifts and toys so you have to have a couple of chests full or you share them with his siblings. You do know about his harbinger status however your little self loves the cover status he uses for his siblings and he takes great pride in encouraging it when he plays with you, joyfully claiming you’re his biggest customer and going in for tickles as a reward for being such an amazing patron (even when he had to explain to your regressed self what patron meant). Childe has a small playpen right next to his desk but back enough so he could hold your hand if you wanted and you giggled and babbled bashfully at the large space given to you. His heart warms when you draw crudely done pictures of both of you and show him with a very proud smile like a new soldier winning their first battle.

Might be one of the very protective ones even if he acts aloof and if even one person makes a move or gives off a harmful intent, he’s not holding back if the other person threatens him or his little one for a debt release and is washing some of the blood off of his clothes before he comes to see you. When you’re regressed or your mind is fuzzy you’re not sure why he always has you with him or promises that you’ll never get hurt or harmed in any way as long as he’s alive.

We all know this man is always on missions and on some of them he can’t bring you with him which pains him to no end, hoping you’re alright and his little one is not missing him too much. Like the others sent his most trusted soldiers to watch over you and care for your needs, often hearing that his siblings joined you for most of the day and smiling at the thought of you happily babbling on about your excitement. No harbingers are allowed to even be near you, especially not Il Dottore and the only exception in the fatui now was Arlecchino and Pulcinella.

It should be no surprise that the 11th harbinger spoils you with treats from all different nations and most of them are sugary or your favorite flavors. You have a whole pantry of snacks and food to nibble on if you’re hungry, they’re also non-complex foods and stuff you can easily just grab and eat. Even though your caregiver is very sweet towards you he is strict in the sense of making sure you’re nourished and not just made up of sugar. Childe also doesn’t want you to get sick or cavities if he can help it. So sweets are mostly kept to when you’re good or if he comes back/home from a long mission (usually with you there) and you’re happy either way, your favorite foods make you more agreeable.

Childe absolutely had a hard bedtime that he makes you follow however it doesn’t mean he’s just going to leave in bed to fall asleep in the dark and go about his own. He lets you pick a story for him to read or make up as you fall asleep and quietly sneaks out once he’s sure you’re sound asleep with little chance of waking up. If you have a nightmare he’ll let you cuddle with him and talk out your nightmare so it doesn’t seem scary anymore.

Pantalone

You are so spoiled by him and your whole room is filled with stuff you asked for and also didn’t ask for courtesy of your caregiver. He had a smaller version of the formal harbinger coat made for you and instructed you to wear it when you were outside with anyone, taking extra precautions with the fur and buttons so you couldn’t take them off or chew on them. He has a whole separate wardrobe of outfits for your little self and it’s all in your favorite colors. All you need to do is point to it and he’ll get it as soon as he can or if it’s someone else’s he’s not going to take it cause it’s not sanitary but he’ll make an identical one from scratch.

The banker seems not that violet or caring to anyone given his impartial opinion and blatant lack of care in La Signora’s death however that’s cause he didn’t really have any attachments to his colleagues because that’s all they were…colleagues. You are his one exception, as his lover you’re his first priority obviously over the money and when you are in your little headspace he’s not taking any chances with you. He has you with him in his office diagonally behind so he can still see you while you happily play with your toys all wrapped in blankets in case anyone bursts in with intent to harm either of you.

Pantalone’s almost always never sent on a mission since he stays in Schneznyah to take care of the Fatui’s grand finances as well as the major Northland Banks around Tevyat and that means staying at the homeland to get all the reports as soon as possible. He’s very grateful he doesn’t have to travel and gets to spend more time with you by his side, however, when he does have to leave for a mission he will take you with him every single time and doesn’t let you out of sight unless it’s with his most competent soldier. Whenever you both travel whether it’s on a boat, carriage, on foot, in the air, or on the Fontaine waterways he’ll have you with him to play with a coloring book and if it’s a long travel distance he’ll have you take a nap(if you throw a tantrum then you’re going to get sent to timeout).

Getting you to eat can be a struggle since you much prefer to nap than eat even if you need it to stay healthy and when you do eat because of Pantalone still spoiling you you have a very rich pallet or rather very expensive pallet. He’s glad that when you get hungry you don’t get really fussy you get quieter and pouty hoping your caregiver would tend to your needs. Your favorite thing to do is eat breakfast or dinner with your caregiver's lap as you both finish your meals and Pantalone lists off what he has to do today, telling you to go get your favorite toys and blanket before he heads in to do paperwork.

He is very strict on bedtimes and the reason is that you have a habit of being clingy when he has to get up which is pretty early as he has a lot of work to do as a harbinger but carefully slips in a pillow in place of himself which usually work and sometimes it doesn’t. You’ll happily snuggle into your “caregiver” as Pantalone quietly gets ready and has a soldier guard your room in case you get up or any issues come up, instructing them to report if any problems arise. Going to bed is always fun as you’re piled under blankets and he’s always snuggled next to you and reading you stories he’s heard from across all of the world.

[thewertsearch]

A fifth exile, sleeping for centuries in the belly of the ruins, far beneath the desecrated idol once sharing its visage with the legendary SPEAKER OF THE VAST CROAK.

We’ve got another Vast Thing, to accompany Gl'bgolyb’s Glub and Aradia's Joke.

I'm a little nervous about the parallel being drawn here between Gl'bgolyb and Bilious Slick. If Sburb's Frog God turns out to have been a Horrorterror all along, it would certainly be fitting, but it definitely wouldn't be good.

Soon the WRIT KEEPER will awaken and serve his new queen.

Fair enough. It makes sense that the Queen would want to save her husband if the opportunity were to present itself.

It is a little fucked that he's the only one who was preserved, though. He shared space with Dave’s beta, so the device can clearly accommodate multiple payloads. For all we know, they could have evacuated half of Prospit through here!

The King has become the Writ Keeper, which makes me think that Complacency might be more than just a teen's first novel.

I think it’s time to take another look at Rose's magnum opus.

COTL is a story about twelve wizards, who suspect that their twelve apprentices are responsible for murder.

In contrast, Homestuck is a story about twelve rather murderous trolls, who are following in the footsteps of their twelve ancestors. So, you see, it's different.

Nah, but seriously, I'm fairly confident that these wizards are supposed to represent the ancestors and Players of the troll session. Zazzerpan even refers to the apprentices as the Complacency's 'grand descendence', which is almost comically on the nose.

But what does it mean? I doubt Rose is intentionally weaving these parallels - it's probably just a manifestation of her latent Seer powers.

In the story, Zazzerpan's cohort are horrified by the possibility that their apprentices are killers. Does this imply that the troll ancestors are less violent and dangerous than the modern Alternians? But if the ancestors were peaceful, I don't think Eridan would respect them the way he does. Hmm.

She would like clarification on the nature of the work, which you are happy to provide. You explain that it is very simple. As the new queen, she will be charged with bringing the slayer to justice, and rebuilding her kingdom in a new land.

The latter is standard practice for Sburban Exiles, and should be well within their capabilities. That said, it would be just as achievable if they were being led by WQ, so I’m not sure why PM needs to bear the crown instead.

If PM is 'bringing the Slayer to justice', she'll probably be confronting Jack directly. This means she's going to be travelling back into sessionspace, presumably quipped with the one weapon capable of matching Noir’s.

[wolvebonez]

hypothetical fawn golden shaded grizzle!

Soooo as I have mentioned briefly I am in a wcrp, in which said wcrp uses genetic terms & has a genetic roller for rp. someone came in and asked what THIS beast might look like

And so I figure I'll share what I came up with since it took me So Fucking Long and I do think enough ppl who follow me might be interested!!

This is the end result!! I will be copy/pasting my explanation & inserting more images below

Im going to be using more basic explanations of a gene and only in relation to how they apply to this cat so im not writing 5 million word

To start, we have a regular fawn ticked tabby!

Wideband then makes the hairs of the cat have more pheomelanin (golden/background color) and less melanin (fawn color), as well as usually restricting the melanin to the tip of the hair.

Theeennnn we introduce silver (as seen below), which reduces the amount of pigment found in the pheomelanin; when combined with wideband making a cat look particularly pale (since any melanin in the wideband-effected hairs can also be broken up/less "solid," it can result in melanin looking more diluted/warm, it can also visually lighten the melanin areas on a cat.) I probably should've made the pale parts more desaturated at this point but ignoring that….

This is where we get Really Hypothetical!

As far as I'm aware we don't really know what chausie grizzle is or does. I've seen sources like messybeast (lol) claim that it is just silver-tipping found in black chausies/melanistic jungle cats but I dissagree. I personally believe a theory [User] initially mentioned to me is more probable; the idea that it is moreso the expansion of agouti; Potentially making the tabby hairs of the cat have more melanin than normal. (Maybe also restricts it towards the base of the hair to explain the satin-like appearance it can have?)

So…given that they basically would have the opposite effects assuming that this is true, there's really no saying how they'd interact. They could cancel eachother out, one could be dominant over the other, ect… There's also no telling which one of these options is more likely.

I went with the idea that the grizzle would be more dominant/have more effect, but that the wideband could potentially still be in effect where the grizzle seems to be least present (around the belly & flanks) which kind of breaks up the solid-ness of most grizzle cats (since grizzle does vary a lot.)

Silver would still work the same throughout all of this & make the phaeomelanin a lighter almost-white color. (There's a potential grizzle also does this too? But. shrug.) …Again I really should've made the light yellow color more silver-colored but i digress.

Now we have colorpoint! Also have no clue if it'd have some weird secret surprise fucked up effect on grizzle but it does seem to be a fairly reliable gene in that it is just a form of albinism so it should have a similar or same effect on everything. It just inhibits colors in the warmer areas of the body & allows it in the colder parts (thus, extremities!)

....And from there you've guys seen what I did when I added the thai white! Not sure how DBE would effect it, but I made my best guess & it wasn't the most important part of this . adventure jdbhjhg

Oh, bonus picture of my canvas with the most refs i've ever used for one piece lol. (Digital piece, anyway. Ceramics is another thing entirely....)

shoutout to @/felinefractious for sourcing pretty much all of said refs lmao

[microwave-core]

DLC Girlie Headcanons

Happy Valentine’s day. Happy early birthday to me. Happy late first anniversary of this blog. Don’t expect this to be as profound or long as the first scarvio post, but it is a post, so have fun with it.

Also, I didn’t include Briar here because I wasn’t satisfied with what I wrote for her and just ended up scrapping it. Might come back to her one day. And yes I know the Carmine gif is big but I liked it and couldn't find one I liked more.

Carmine, my love. I know I already made a whole post for her not too long ago, but I can still add more (and there are also only three others on the list sooo). This time, though, things can take place post Kieran joker arc.

Of course, she’s still Carmine. She’s a bit overprotective and jealous and kind of a bitch, especially when at the academy because a certain Drayton will lazily and jokingly flirt with you just to get on her nerves. Don’t play into his flirtations, or else she’ll be mad at both of you (temporarily at you, permanently at toothpaste hair). She won’t stop you from hanging out with other people, though. That is, of course, unless it’s Drayton, who she will literally drag you away from.

 She doesn’t really boss you around like she does her brother, but she will often ask you to help her with whatever she’s working on. It’s totally because she needs you to lend a hand and not because she likes having you plastered to her side. Sometimes she’ll ask you to come help her with a task and the task in question is just hanging out with Amarys.

Carmine does actually take her studies fairly seriously, especially when she’s helping Briar. Spends a good deal of time studying, and might pressure you to join her if you are falling behind. Surprisingly, she’s a pretty good study-buddy. If you’re really struggling with a subject, she can probably explain it in pretty understandable terms, as long as you can brush aside her occasional insults, of course. Might reward you with a kiss or two if you do really well.

You’re allowed to be a little mean to Kieran, as a treat, but know your place. She loves you, yeah, but she’d probably side with her baby brother over you if push comes to shove. You can tease him a bit and slide in some snide comments here and there, but if you take things too far she will be upset. I know I said you could be a little mean, but don’t be, like, mean mean to him. He’s been through enough.

Speaking of, Kieran thinks you’re pretty cool. Little guy doesn’t really have friends, and being a recovering joker acr victim doesn’t help that fact. He knows you, you’ve been in his life’s peripheral vision for a good deal of time, being attached to Carmine and whatnot, and he thinks you’re wicked cool. No matter how much time passes, he will always watch on with stars in his eyes when you are showing off your skills. He’d love nothing more than to have a match with you sometime.

I wouldn’t say Kieran’s like Hop is for Sonia, where he would go out of his way to play matchmaker, but he does silently lay in hope that you two stay together, and their grandparents feel the same. They might partake in some light teasing whenever they see you together, which is often, but they aren’t really pushy with it. Not the kind of people to press Carmine about when you’ll get married or give them great grandchildren or anything.

When Kieran is in his villain arc, Carmine will ask you to help keep an eye on him. She’s worried out of her mind with how odd he was acting, and really wanted to find the root cause. Once the whole Terapagos ordeal blows over, expect the two to come find you and tackle you into a group hug, both blabbering on about how they almost died and how much they care for you. A similar thing probably happens after the Pecharunt situation ends, as well.

You know… a lot of scarvio characters could totally be melded into yanderes if you just exaggerated their traits a wee bit. Not saying that any of them are, we’re not doing the whole “Nemona’s a yandere” bit, but Carmine could easily fit the bill. She’s bitchy, a bit overprotective, and can easily become violent. Nothing more to add here, it's just a passing thought.

Following my original scarvio post, I am morally obligated to include a point of slander for each girl. Carmine has said at least a few slurs in her life. In, like, a Lana del Rey way, specifically with that one kid who was in Stranger Things (why did she do that it was just completely unprompted). Would casually drop a slur in someone’s general direction for literally no reason. Hater energy.

Perrin’s pretty cool. I don’t like her as much as her supposed great great great grandmother, but I’m not here to pin two bad bitches against each other. Regardless of her ancestors, she’s still cute and artsy, and we love that for her.

She’s kind of funny to me more than anything. She would just go up to you one day, saying shit like “Hey babe, I’m feeling really unmotivated right now :{ so I’m gonna take a trip to a small, distant island to take pictures of a fucked up beast”. Don’t try to talk her out of it, she’ll already be on the plane.

When she’s feeling low, she likes to take pictures of you. They aren’t used for anything, not making their way into her portfolio, just her little personal collection to look back on and smile at gently. She’ll start by mopily taking half-assed pictures with her phone, but steadily gets more and more into things, setting up her shots and having you pose, eventually pulling out her camera.

Although, it is a bit embarrassing for her after the fact. When she gets really into her shots, she gets super enthusiastic and constantly makes cheesy remarks. Please don’t point this out while she’s working, she’ll get super flustered and totally thrown off her game. She might be able to recover, laughing her comments off sheepishly, or she might be too far gone to continue, dramatically laying down her camera in defeat, hoping you'll give her some affection and out of pity.

However, her love for you, and love for looking at you, isn’t always enough to get her out of a slump, hence why she goes to Kitakami to look for a fucked up beast in hopes of finding her spark again. Getting out and searching for something interesting can help her get back into her groove, and she’ll keep you posted the entire time if you aren’t by her side.

Speaking of, she loves to send you pictures. Constantly. She’ll send breathtaking scenery shots, gorgeous skylines, diverse and adorable wildlife, and Growlithe. It’s mostly just Growlithe if we're being honest. Usually paired with a caption like “he misses you” or “stinky little bastard man has committed a heinous crime (he rolled in the mud).”Particularly loves to send glamor shots of him.

And said stinky little bastard man loves you so much. He likes to follow you around when nearby, trotting on your heels, curious as to where you’re both going. He’ll sit patiently at your feet whenever you have food, and curl up in your lap when you’re sitting down. Perrin’s his favorite still, but you’re a close second. But if you pass him enough scraps under the table and give him good enough scratches, you might be able to sway his opinion.

I don’t remember if the game ever states where Perrin is specifically from, but she gives off country girl energy to me. Maybe it’s just the song that plays when you talk to her, now that I think about it. I don’t know. I think in general she’s also pretty laid back, the kind to go with the flow. Unless she’s in a rut, where it seems like her entire world is falling apart.

She’s not super into PDA, but she doesn’t really get embarrassed with excessive affection, either. She’d prefer to just hold your hand when around other people, maybe rest her arm over your shoulder, but she wouldn’t argue if you wanted more affection than that. Not to say that she doesn’t have any limits, she’s just pretty lax.

However, I also think she’s suave. Not afraid to surprise you by pressing a sudden kiss to somewhere on your face-forehead, cheek, lips-when you lean in close, like if you lean over her shoulder or something along those lines. She does like to see you flustered, but she doesn’t do it too often. After all, if she does this all the time, you would expect it, and then you wouldn’t get flustered at all.

Slander devil emoji. Perrin feels like she’d own a shit ton of shoes. Mainly tennis shoes, methinks. Most of her funds are funneled into her camera and lenses, since she’s a photographer obviously, but her second biggest money sink is her shoe collection. Is kind of protective of them, too, because Growlithe will chew on them if given the opportunity.

Lacey’s just cute. Which makes sense, because being cute is, like, her whole thing. To her, most everything has some cuteness in it. Nothing can be spared from her cute-detecting gaze.

What more should I really say for her? She’s just a super sweet and kind person and I would kill for her. Actually, I wouldn’t do that, because if I did she would look at me sadly and tell me what I did just wasn’t right. She might be incredibly nice, but she ain’t a pushover. Daddy didn’t raise no bitch.

She’s super touchy feely. Always touching you in some way. Prefers to drape herself over you whenever possible, usually by wrapping herself around one of your arms to lean in close. If she can’t, then she’ll gladly link pinkies with you, as she believes that’s way cuter than just holding hands.

Massive cuddlebug. Whenever you are sitting or laying down, she’ll immediately jump into the spot next to you and hold you close. She’s practically nodding off by the time she gets comfortable, too warm and comfy to want to get up. Her pokemon, especially her Granbull, tend to pile up around you as well. Will complain and beg you to stay if you try to get up before she’s ready (she will never be ready). She’s also guilty of baby talk. Take that as you will.

Her pokemon in general are pretty cuddly, as well, but some are better snugglers than others. Like, Excadrill is a real sweetheart, but she’s also got massive claws and hard noggin made of steel, which aren’t the most um pleasant. And Slowbro is a little bit toxic, so be careful. Omg I forgot she had a Primarina. I love Primarina, that's my favorite starter. I’m gonna end this point here before I ramble into infinity, sorry.

Feels very into arts and crafts. She’d break out the macaroni and Elmer's glue unprompted in the league club room and everyone flocks to her, watching her and her art supplies like impoverished children about to receive their daily rations. Everyone joins in, even if they don’t want to or don’t see the point in it. Drayton loves the crafts more than anyone else, barring Lacey herself, but he usually tries to get other people to do the work for him.

I also feel like she would try to turn the league club into a band at least twice. Imagine Lemonade Mouth (aka the best disney channel original movie), but with the BB elite four. No matter how hard she tries, it always devolves into absolute chaos. Maybe one day she will get to live her band kid dreams to their fullest.

ASMR Clay kills you via excruciatingly intense eye contact because you’re dating his baby girl.mp4. He is prime overprotective dad material, and he is so stubborn at first. He acts all big and tough in front of you when you first meet, mainly because that’s just how he is, but eventually warms up to you. Don’t expect to be too close, though. “Warming up” just means that he tolerates you.

Anyways, thinking of Clay makes me think of “Heartwarming: Watch this dad totally accept his gay daughter coming out then eat 12 tacos”. He’s very accepting of anything she does, even if he’s hard on her when it comes to actually dating. He’s just hesitant to let her grow up, is all. Also, he radiates massive divorced single-dad energy.

Lacey doesn’t like to complain that much, but she does on occasion. In particular, she tends to complain when a certain school director dumps his duties onto her. It’s usually not very heated, just a brief vent about how it totally wasn’t right, hand gestures and all. 

When venting, she usually prefaces that what she says might be a little mean or too much, but then she says something very reasonable and tame. Also seems like the type to apologize when she rambles on about something or other, no matter how many times you tell her that she’s fine.

Lacey slander is that she absolutely uses Texan slang. What in tarnation is the one she uses the most, but do not doubt her ability to spout country slang out of nowhere. Also owns at least one cowboy hat. And a pair of cowboy boots. She’s got the whole cowboy ensemble, actually.

Amarys, while not outwardly emotional, is also a very sweet and caring person. Facial emoting just isn’t her thing. I’m struggling to put my thoughts into words with her, because my mind is just automatically defaulting to “Amarys my beloved” instead of forming actual, tangible ideas.

I don’t think Amarys is terrible with emotions, she just isn’t good at showing them. Particularly on her face. She prefers to express her feelings through words and actions, even if they come off as robotic and stringent. They’re coming from the heart, honest. She does like to make fun little gestures with her hands, as well, like making hearts.

Despite being relatively fine at navigating her own emotions, there are certain concepts that stump her, mainly concepts that are more abstract, one’s that lack clearly defined definitions. For instance, she asks Lacey in the league room what constitutes being cute. Sometimes, she’ll approach you and ask questions about these concepts, just to gauge your expert opinion on such topics.

I feel like she has a hefty pocket watch collection. I don’t have much more to add, mainly because I don’t know much about pocket watches outside of them existing. I don’t think she’s an avid collector per say, I feel like she’s just accumulated them over time, mainly from getting them as gifts over the years.

She comes off as someone who’s a little hard to shop for, so most people tend to just get her a watch when gift giving because it’s something useful and she clearly likes them. She doesn’t mind receiving them, even if many of them don’t get used because she just has too many. At the very least, she has plenty of backup replacements if the one she uses breaks, and is also willing to share if you ever wanted to borrow one.

Lowkey a worrywart. If you mention feeling wrong or down or just have issues in general, she’ll keep checking in with you until she’s certain you are doing better. Not in, like, an overbearing way, though. She’s not hounding you constantly, just bringing it up when she sees you, or texting if you haven’t seen each other in a bit. It’s a good way to see how much she cares for you. It’s part of her love language, if you will.

Amarys is a very good person to confide in, regardless if you’re dating her or not. She’s a great listener and is always level-headed. She doesn’t have advice for every given situation, but her calm nature can help keep you grounded when venting, which really helps on top of the effect that venting generally has.

I’m split between thinking Amarys spends at least an hour in the morning styling her hair or believing that’s just how she always looks. I would assume that she takes her hair down every night, because her hairstyle doesn’t seem very comfortable to sleep in, and also seems like it would be messed up pretty easily. But the idea that she just always exists with this very specific hairstyle is kind of funny to me.

On that note, she is pretty good at styling hair in general. You don’t get that hair without having dexterous and skillful hands. Show her a picture of the style you want and she can probably get pretty damn close. Also good with hair dye jobs, as I assume she dyes some of her hair gray. Actually, maybe she doesn’t, because her eyebrows are gray. I don’t know what to believe anymore.

Gets dragged into Carmine’s antics a lot. She usually plays the straight man in comparison to Carmine’s… Carmine-ness. She can talk her friend out of her more ludicrous ideas, but she joins in on Carmine’s antics every now and then. Has had to talk Carmine out of chopping off Drayton’s massive hair tuft on multiple occasions.

While writing this I came across the idea of Amarys being the child of Lenora, the black and white normal gym leader, which I like. Mainly because I like Lenora a lot and she does canonically have a husband, so it would check out pretty well. I have nothing else to add to this, just wanted to mention it because why not.

Amarys slander? Amarys slander tonight queen? I’d say she’s the type of person to correct people’s grammar whenever they make a mistake, in both writing and conversation. This does include using it to “win” pointless arguments online, although she’s also the type to write lengthy responses in those types of arguments, so she already has all of her bases covered, but that doesn’t change her grammar correcting ways.

[rintarousgirl]

kiss me better, baby - an atsumu miya two-shot

PART ONE - MASTERLIST

synopsis -

you and atsumu had been living together happily after your marriage, but after conflicting work schedules and bottled-up feelings, the two of you break into a heated argument. now, it's up to the two of you to mend it, maybe with a kiss? | tags: lack of communication, angst, making up, hurt/comfort, toxic relationship.

a/n: for my more dedicated followers (and those of you who simply are curious) i now have a nsfw blog so this blog is now strictly sfw! ofc, i will still post some suggestive stuff but for nsfw requests and works go to @tarousbaby!

"you look horrible," osamu drawls from the foot of the couch, eyebrows raised. you scoff, shifting so you're upright as you wipe at your red and splotchy face.

"thanks," you mutter, "you're quite the charmer."

osamu rolls his eyes, moving around the couch to sit beside you. he picks up your legs, dropping them back down into his lap as you huff. "why're you here? have you come to apologize on your brother's behalf?" you grumble, resting your cheek against the couch.

it'd been a week, and you'd been so down that you'd called sick out of work. you'd changed maybe once in the past seven days, and you're sure you stink. your shirt has a stain on it, and your hairs a rats nest but you couldn't find it in you to care. there wasn't anybody for you to bother looking pretty for.

"'tsumu told me what happened," he explains, rubbing small circles into your ankle, "though I'd like to hear your side of the story too. i don't trust half of what he says when he's angry."

you frown. you knew atsumu had a bad habit of blowing things out of proportion or simply not caring about them enough that he undermines them. it makes you wonder what story he'd spun for his twin.

"what'd he say?" you ask first, your shoulders hunching a little.

osamu clicks his tongue. "ah, ah, your story first remember? after, i'll make you something to eat, 'kay?"

you nod, partially enticed by the idea of osamu's cooking. falling back into the plush of the couch (which still smelled like his cologne) you begin to share what had occured that night and the events that led up to it.

you watch as osamu connects pieces of your story to atsumu's, and where he finds gaps too. you see his thoughts clear as day on his face, and moments where he judges you and then atsumu as well. at least it was good to know he had a fairly neutral opinion.

you finish of your long rant with a simple question, "where is he now?"

"my place, doing pretty much the same thing you are. he skipped practice too, multiple times. hinata came over once, but atsumu's kind of shutting people out so he left fairly quickly."

something in you aches, and for a moment, there's nothing you want to do more than break down the door and hold him close and beg him to apologize so the two of you could get over this. atsumu's sweet stubborn heart wouldn't let anyone in but osamu, and hopefully you.

but he'd also treated your insecurities as if they were nothing. he pretty much ignored you throughout the day. and when you'd confronted him about it, he'd blown you off. you shouldn't feel bad that he's wallowing in his own self-pity without you, but you do.

osamu stands, reaching above his head to crack his back. it pops, and you follow him as he makes his way to the kitchen. "is he okay?" you find yourself asking to which osamu chuckles.

"he's fine, just pouting. he'll get over it eventually and worm his way back to you," he says whilst rummaging through your cabinets. he finds a few boxes of rice, before turning to your fridge, "you shouldn't do the same. you have a life, a job. he can miss a few practices; you can't miss work."

he's right, and you know it. in the pocket of your sweats, you phone buzzes. probably another text from your co-workers wishing you a swift recovery.

"am i not allowed to be upset over my stupid husband?" you shoot back, despite it all.

osamu hums, and takes a very long very noticeable look at your barren ring finger. "do you still consider him your husband even?"

after that, you can't even find the words to reply.

☆ - - -

going back to work wasn't as hard as you thought it would be. it was easy for you to slip back into a routine, it kept your mind of atsumu.

so, for the next week, you went on with your life. you ignored how empty your hand felt without the comforting pressure of your ring, and how much you missed atsumu's arms around your waist at night.

it was almost easy to forget he existed but then you could look around, see your wedding pictures framed on the walls, smell his cologne on your sheets, see his laundry baskets in the basement.

it made you sick. sick with how much you missed him, and sick with how much you never wanted to see him again.

you'd spent too many nights curled in on yourself in bed, his cologne on your pillow, spotted with your tears.

you wake up one night to a knock on your front door. sitting up blearily from the couch, you rub at your eyes, brushing your hair out of your face. the clock reads 11:37. your tv is still on, some animal documentary lighting up your living room in blue light.

confusion settles in you along with a thick level of wariness. getting up, you try to keep your footsteps light as you approach the door. hovering your hand over the lock, you peek through the peephole and feel your heart skip a beat.

atsumu stands on your porch, hair wet with the rain outside and skin pale and clammy. he looks borderline hypothermic, but his cheeks are still flushed and pink. you stumble back from the door and stand there for a second, jaw dropped.

you move quickly to pull the door open, startling him as he jumps back. he blinks at you, and then he's crushing you.

his arms wrap around you, holding you close and tight and sweet. his face buries in your shoulder, and he lets out a weak pathetic sob into the fabric of your shirt. your hands twitch at your sides, unsure of what to do as he clings onto you.

swallowing a thick lump in your throat, your hands slowly reach up to rub up and down his spine in a comforting manner.

atsumu smells strongly of alcohol, thick and sour. it's clear he was drinking before coming home, and you weren't quite sure what to do. atsumu had never really been a drinker in your years together.

"'tsumu," you mumble, pushing him back lightly. he stumbles, looking at you like a hurt puppy. "let's go to the kitchen...i prefer you sober."

he follows you to the kitchen, struggling not to trip over his own two feet. you prepare him a glass of water and a bowl of food to eat. he digs in happily, small water droplets slipping down his chin.

you watch in silence as he eats, taking in his condition. he looked haggard, frozen, and just overall horrible. and despite all that, he was still just as beautiful as he was the day you married him.

sighing, you walk behind him, and pat his shoulders. "i'm going to set up the couch for you tonight. i don't want you going back out in that storm," he hums, looking up at you with tearful eyes.

“mkay,” he says, slurring his words. he stares up at you with an emotion you can’t quite place. without thinking, you reach out and stroke his cheek, pushing away wet hair that stuck to his face.

there aren’t any words said, but he leans into your touch. even drunk atsumu knew to look for you for safety.

you watch as he finishes his food, before scrambling to his feet to stumble over to the couch. you help him, supporting half his weight as he plops down onto the couch with a drawn out groan.

“thank you,” he says, a little more sober than he’d previously been, taking your hand. “i love you…”

your bottom lip trembles and you lean down and press a kiss to his forehead. his eyes flutter before slipping shut as he falls into a deep sleep. “i love you too, ‘tsumu,” you choke, tears threatening to spill over.

you love him so much.

- - - ☆

you wake up before atsumu does, which you’re kind of relieved about. you were scared that if you slept in, he’d wake up and run back to osamu and you’d blow your chance at a healthy conversation with him.

when you walk into the living room, he’s tangled up in the blankets you’d given him. a small chuckle escapes your lips, and you grab some aspirin from the bathroom and place a glass of water on the coffee table for him.

turning to the kitchen, you begin breakfast. it was a saturday morning, which meant you fortunately didn’t have work. you remember reading somewhere that eggs were good for hangovers so you open your fridge and grab some from the cartridge.

atsumu wakes up not long after that, awoken by the smell of the sizzling eggs and bacon. he sits up with a groan, clutching his temple, and you quickly sprint over to close the curtains to block the sunlight.

“good morning, sleepyhead,” you find yourself saying, the tease slipping off your tongue as easy as water. you catch yourself a second after, and bite your lip.

atsumu looks at you like he’s lost, hurt, and in pain all at the same time which he probably is. you give him what you hope is a comforting smile. “c’mon let’s talk over breakfast.”

you extend a hand to help him up which he takes hesitantly, leaning into you subconsciously. he slides into a bar seat, and you quickly tend to the food for a few minutes before plating it.

besides the stove top, the kettle hissed, letting you know the tea you’d begun to brew was finished. you pour him a cup to have with his food.

he takes it gratefully, but his eyes don't stray from your figure as you make your own plate. "y/n," he calls softly, pushing back his plate. he stands up with a sigh as you turn from the counter, and walks around so you're face to face, only three feet apart.

"i'm sorry," he whispers, "not just for this...for everything."

you watch in silence, swallowing the thick lump of emotion in your throat. he'd said it drunk, but it'd been easy to tell yourself he didn't really mean it then, no matter how much you wanted him to. now that it happened, it almost didn't feel real.

"are you? i mean, like, really?" you end up croaking, eyes darting to the ring glinting on his finger. he brings up his palm and places it over his heart.

"dead serious," he says, before taking your hand. his face falls when he notices the lack of ring, and he brings it up to his face to cup his cheek. he presses a kiss to the inside of your hand.

"i was so stupid, baby. i should've listened to you. i was stressed and couldn't think of anything but myself and that was so foolish of me. when i married you, i promised myself you would always be my first priority and i broke that promise. i am so, truly sorry, y/n."

his eyes are a bit red, but he doesn't cry, and there's a dimple in his chin as he tries to hold back his emotions. your heart breaks and shatters into little glass pieces, spilling out of you and crashing onto the floor.

"oh," you say softly, the wind having been stolen from your lungs. "i...i forgive you, 'tsumu..."

you take a step forward, and his face lights up. you lift your hand from his cheek, and he opens his arms for a hug.

bringing your hand down, you land a harsh smack onto his shoulder, the sound filling the room.

he winces, an immediate hand raising to clasp over his shoulder. "i deserved that," he laughs lightly, and you find yourself smiling back despite it all.

you crash into his arms, burying your nose into the fabric of his shirt.

his arms rub up and down your spine, squeezing you tight. "i promise i'll never disregard you again. i'll listen to everything you say, understand every insecurity. you are apart of me, baby, i wouldn't want to ever hurt you again."

"i love you," you whimper wetly into his shirt, "i always have."

"i know," he replies, "i love you too."

you look up at him and smile. he smiles back, sweet and soft and genuine, and you think it's the most beautiful thing this world has ever seen.

taglist: (anyone who interacted last post)

@snail-squasher | @yamaguchikinnie | @radtragedyarcade

[sickficideas]

start over || skk injury/sickfic

ao3! 5.9k - please refer to the tags and notes in the link for content + warnings!

Dazai is fairly certain he has a few broken ribs, but that’s not an unfamiliar feeling.

He resists the urge to run his hand over that spot on his chest. It’s sore and painful even completely untouched. He’s already gotten used to taking shallow breaths, anything deeper than that makes him cough, makes him only feel worse.

But he won’t see a doctor. He never does.

“I’ll take care of the report. You should go home,” Kunikida tells him. Dazai’s not used to the concern in his voice. They’ve been out all night and day on this case, which isn’t too unusual for them, but Dazai’s exhaustion has hit him much harder this time. It’s visible enough that Kunikida is concerned, but Dazai doesn’t think he has any idea about the condition of his ribs. “Might not be a bad idea to have Yosano check you over before you go, though.”

“She’s in Osaka, isn’t she?” Dazai asks, vaguely remembering the discussion from the night before. He yawns, the motion from his chest proving to be rather painful, but he hides it well from his partner, he thinks.

“She’ll be back tomorrow night,” Ranpo tells the two of them, always secretly listening. He looks like he’s actually busy with something at the moment, typing away on a computer.

“I’ll take you to a doctor, then,” Kunikida insists, setting his stack of reports down on the desk and rummaging through his bag for his keys.

“Nah, that’s alright. I think I’ll just go home, I feel fine,” Dazai insists, regardless of his true situation. Kunikida saw him get hit. He was thrown against a staircase during an altercation against someone who didn’t have a gift, and while Dazai can usually hold his own in a fight, there’s not much he can do against someone highly skilled in physical combat and nothing else.

“Are you sure? You got thrown pretty hard,” Kunikida says with a disapproving frown, setting his bag down.

“Yeah, yeah. It’ll probably just bruise,” Dazai says. He didn’t bring anything with him to work today other than a messenger bag, so he picks that up, and leaves his coat hanging over his chair. It’s far too hot for that today.

“If you’re sure. I’ll take you home, at least,” Kunikida insists, but Dazai waves him off before he can continue his search for his keys.

“I’ve got errands to run. I’ll do ‘em on my way home,” Dazai says. He knows Kunikida will stay here even though he’s scheduled to go home as well. He would rather get his work done than put it off.

Kunikida sighs and waves a hand as Dazai heads for the exit.

…

“He has a few broken ribs,” Ranpo says.

Kunikida lifts his head, eyes darting in Ranpo’s direction. It’s been a few minutes since Dazai left. Ranpo doesn’t elaborate, and he’s not quite sure how Ranpo could gather that just from looking at him.

“Are you sure?” Kunikida asks.

Ranpo lifts a brow. “Am I sure?”

“How do you know?” he asks.

“The way he was breathing. It’s causing him pain,” Ranpo explains as if it was obvious. “And he was hunched over by a few degrees. It’s more painful if he stands with good posture, but also when he sits down. He didn’t put his coat back on either, probably not worth it with the pain he’s in. It’s definitely his ribs.”

“Why the hell would he tell me he’s fine?” Kunikida grumbles with a heavy sigh. He can feel a headache coming on. Dazai is so incredibly -

“Well, I’m not a relationship counselor, I’m a detective. So, can’t help you there,” Ranpo shrugs.

Kunikida resists the urge to throw something at him.

…

Chuuya’s fancy penthouse it is, Dazai decides as he boards the subway.

His chest is starting to hurt a bit more. Going from standing up to sitting is slightly more painful, so he decides he’ll stand on the train instead and hold onto something at waist level to avoid unnecessary pain. He thinks he should text Chuuya that he’s heading over there, but he ends up in his own head, distracted by miscellaneous thoughts and advertisements in his view.

He almost misses the stop.

He feels his phone buzzing in his pocket, but he knows it’s Kunikida, and he doesn’t feel like answering. He’s sure Ranpo knows, he’s sure he’s told Kunikida, and answering the phone would certainly mean being harped on for not looking after his health.

Dazai understands his concern, he really does, but he’s fine. As long as he can still breathe, he would rather not see a doctor if he doesn’t have to.

The evening’s rush hour has started to calm down, thankfully. Dazai’s not sure he could handle being stuffed in a train car with that many people, especially now, but he gets out of the station unscathed and only has to endure a few minutes of walking to Chuuya’s penthouse. There’s a moment where he almost turns back around, but he’s already paid the train fare. Might as well finish what he started.

He digs through his bag for the key card he has to get to Chuuya’s floor, and he only manages to find it just when he makes it to the building. The elevator opens for him, and he ascends a few floors up to make it to Chuuya’s place. He takes in a few breaths, disappointed to find it hasn’t gotten any easier to breathe. Thankfully, Chuuya’s not as observant as his coworkers.

The elevator opens right to Chuuya’s living room after he's prompted once more to scan the key card. Normally, anyone else would have to be let in by him, but Dazai has stolen this extra key card of his to make it easier for him to get it. He doesn’t care for the extra steps.

He’s grinning when the elevator door opens to Chuuya almost half-dressed and sitting on his couch with a glass of wine, wide-eyed and not very happy to see company.

“Did you steal my fuckin’ key card again, Mackerel?” Chuuya grumbles, standing up from his spot on the couch to take his remote and pause the TV. He’s watching some brainless reality TV like he usually does, that’s no surprise, but Dazai’s at the point where he wouldn’t even mind watching it with him.

“You should wear that more often,” Dazai hums as he hangs his bag on Chuuya’s silly hat rack, something he knows Chuuya hates, but has given up reprimanding Dazai for. He sees Chuuya’s face redden a little at that comment. It’s an almost-too-small tank top he’s wearing with a baggy pair of sweatpants, but he’s got some nice-looking arms. He likes seeing them.

“You always scare the crap out of me when you show up like this,” Chuuya groans, obviously trying to change the subject. “I told you to text me when you’re coming.”

“Wanted to surprise you,” Dazai jokes, but he’s lost the energy to put any sort of teasing tone into his voice. He trudges over to the couch to sit down, slower than he normally would and carefully as he sinks down, trying to avoid making any grunts to show he’s still in pain.

Chuuya, though, isn’t as stupid as Dazai thinks he is. “You okay?”

Dazai’s still staring at his arms. “Huh? Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Stop looking at me like I have a pair of tits. You’re gross,” Chuuya grumbles, marching over to the kitchen. Dazai pouts, staring at the still-paused television, with no will or energy to get up to unpause it himself.

“Slug, can you unpause it?” Dazai asks, turning his head to watch Chuuya, who has taken his phone from the kitchen counter and sat at the bar, typing away.

“Do it yourself,” Chuuya huffs. “You want somethin' to eat?”

“‘M okay,” Dazai says. He should probably eat, but he’s never really hungry.

“I’m ordering food anyway. You like Chinese food, right?” Chuuya asks.

“Uh-huh,” Dazai nods, turning his head back to stare at the television, which has already moved to the idle screen. Dazai thinks he was watching a singing competition show, which isn’t nearly as bad as his usual choices.

Dazai sinks back into the couch and manages to snake one of the throw blankets over himself, feeling a little cold. He hears Chuuya muttering in the kitchen, always weirdly polite when he’s on the phone, ordering much more than the two of them could finish together.

He breathes in and breathes out a few times, realizing that not only is it not getting better, it almost feels worse. He’s having to take more shallow breaths. Maybe it would be a good idea to at least let Chuuya know, just in case Dazai suddenly can’t breathe anymore, but he’s certain Chuuya won’t handle news of broken ribs very well.

Chuuya returns with a shirt and pajama pants that Dazai left here ages ago, because obviously nothing Chuuya owns will fit Dazai’s tall frame. He lays the clothes over the side of the couch and clicks his tongue when Dazai’s eyes drift over to him.

“You look exhausted,” Chuuya murmurs.

“‘M fine. How long till the food gets here? I’m hungry,” Dazai huffs.

“Now you’re hungry, huh? Geez," Chuuya mutters to himself. "Change into these before you get on my bed.”

Dazai is well aware that he's not allowed to wear outside clothes in Chuuya’s bed and resists the urge to make a comment about the more serious topic of Chuuya's undiagnosed OCD in favor of getting closer to time in a bed. Chuuya's mattress is fantastic. Money can't buy happiness, but it can buy mattresses that give him the most rested sleep of his life. Maybe he can lay down for a little before the food gets here. He just needs to relax, he’s fine.

Chuuya starts to wander off again.

“Slug,” Dazai whines. “What are you doing now?”

“I needa do laundry. You wanna help, or keep up your freeloader lifestyle?” Chuuya calls as he walks off. Dazai doesn’t have the energy to shout back at him. Dazai realizes he didn’t make any solid plans at all to hang out with Chuuya, and that the latter has things he needs to do too, but he wishes he would use his absorbent amounts of money to hire someone to do his laundry for him.

Dazai, instead, starts to change into the clothes Chuuya brought out for him. The sweat pants are easy to slide on as he’s sitting down. It doesn’t hurt his chest too much at all. Taking off his collared shirt and vest isn’t too difficult either, he doesn’t have to pull anything over his head with the buttons, but he realizes he’ll have to with the shirt.

He puts that off, realizing he needs to change out his bandages, too. What a pain in the ass.

“Slug,” Dazai murmurs as he approaches Chuuya’s laundry room. He’s wearing a cardigan all of a sudden. Chuuya always puts something on as soon as it comes out of the dryer, he likes how warm it is. It’s cute. “Do you have bandages I can use anywhere?”

Chuuya finishes folding up a shirt before he looks at Dazai peering in the doorway, his eyes drifting down to his bandages. Dazai suddenly feels nauseous. He knows Chuuya has seen his skin without the bandages, he knows Chuuya doesn’t care, but he hates it. He hates it so much it makes him feel sick.

“Dazai, you know that I don’t -”

Chuuya stops when his eyes meet Dazai’s expression, probably on track to say something about how he doesn’t care about what’s underneath his bandages, but Dazai doesn’t want to have that conversation right now. He just wants to change the bandages so he’s clean enough to lay in Chuuya’s bed.

“There’s some left in the bathroom next to my bedroom. Second highest shelf on the right,” Chuuya says quietly, turning his attention back to folding his remaining articles of clothing.

Dazai wanders over to Chuuya’s bedroom with the shirt he’s supposed to put on folded over his arm, and he locks the door behind him, even with the knowledge that Chuuya can open it whenever he wants.

He starts to peel off the bandages, and he winces at the side of the deep purple bruise blooming over his ribs. That doesn’t look good at all. He doesn’t usually bruise like that. He runs his fingers over the spot, shivering at how his skin feels under the touch of his hand. He’s not sure any of that is real. He thinks he might have a fever. He’s overly sensitive to touch when he’s running a temperature, even at his own hands. But whether or not the fever is from his possible damaged ribs or just exhaustion, he won’t know until later, probably.

He lazily washes his face and runs a damp washcloth over his upper body, anywhere that’s reachable and doesn’t hurt to get to, before he dries off with a dry towel. He should probably shower, but he definitely can’t do that without it hurting right now. He does, however, hold that wet washcloth up to his face. It feels so good. He wonders if ducking his face into a sink filled with water would feel better than this. Maybe he’d drown while he’s at it, too.

But Chuuya’s sink is too low. He’d have to bend over a ton and that would hurt too much. He’s not in the business for a painful suicide.

He starts to wrap his arms back up, deciding to only wrap his neck and arms, and letting the t-shirt do the rest of the covering. He can’t lift up enough to get high on his chest, and it’s too much twisting around his body. He stares down the t-shirt that he’s set on the counter with a deep sigh. He just needs to rip it off like a bandaid. Pull it over his head. It can’t hurt too bad if he’s fast.

Only, it does. It hurts so much that he can’t even pull it over his head. He lowers his arms back down and whines, throwing his head back against the door. It’s so bad that it’s making him nauseous, although he’s not sure if he was feeling sick before that. His chest rattles when he takes in a breath, and he spits phlegm into the sink.

Bad sign.

"What's takin' so long?" Chuuya puffs from outside the door. Dazai almost jumps. He didn’t think he was in here for all that long, but apparently long enough. Dammit, if he opens the door and asks for help, Chuuya will see the bruise on his chest. But it’ll hurt too much to cover it, and then he’ll take even longer.

"Chuuya needs to help me put this on," he murmurs as he unlocks the door, the shirt still pulled up to the sleeves.

"What's wrong, you sore? I have ones that button from the front, if that's easier," Chuuya says, walking off to the closet before he even sees Dazai. “You guys do some crazy stuff today?”

“I got thrown against the stairs,” Dazai groans, leaning against the door frame from the inside, Chuuya’s footsteps approaching again. His arm comes in through the crack of the door with a shirt that buttons from the front, thank god, and his arm disappears once Dazai takes the shirt. He narrowly avoided a confrontation.

“Ow. You get hurt bad?” Chuuya asks, staying outside the door as Dazai shuts it again.

“No, just…sore, like you said,” Dazai manages with a little pained groan as he slips his arms through the sleeves, buttoning the front of the shirt.

“Good. That shit can really suck,” Chuuya huffs. “Actually, I saw Akutagawa curb-stomp a guy on a staircase the other day. Seriously brutal.”

Good to know Akutagawa hasn’t lost any of his violent tendencies, but he finds himself shivering at the idea of curb-stomping someone. Strange how much things have changed. Maybe it's just because of how he feels right now.

Once Dazai finishes buttoning up the shirt, he trudges over to Chuuya’s bedroom, deciding he’ll just lie down for a while as they wait for their food, but the nausea that’s starting to settle in his stomach is making him want to pass up the idea of food.

Dazai decides to just lay down on his side. Chuuya almost wanders out of the room, but he stops and turns around once he’s realized Dazai is lying down. He frowns.

"My tummy hurts," he mumbles.

"You probably haven't eaten all damn day,” Chuuya huffs. Dazai can’t deny that. He’s pretty sure he didn’t eat anything more than a snack yesterday, either, but he won’t admit it to Chuuya. He just whines to himself. “But I’ll get you some Pepto or something if it’ll help you feel better.”

Dazai isn’t sure that will do much for him, but Chuuya is already off to the kitchen before Dazai has anything to say about it. He forces himself to sit up, up and off Chuuya’s too-comfy mattress before he lays a hand on his chest. A deep breath almost has him in tears, he’s wincing so hard that the moment makes it hurt more. It feels like a knife is stuck between his ribs and he thinks if he takes a breath like that again, he’ll throw up. Not a good sign, even worse with how swimmy his head feels once it’s off the mattress.

Chuuya returns with a little medicine cup full of Pepto Bismol and Dazai doesn’t even have the energy to give him a reassuring smile, because it’s obvious that Chuuya is concerned, no matter how much he tries to hide it. His eye twitches as he approaches him, and he reaches a hand up to his cheek. Dammit.

"Shit, Dazai," Chuuya murmurs as he pulls his hand back. "Why the hell are you so hot?"

Dazai wants to make a joke, it's such a good opportunity to, but he can't. He feels awful. He’s considering making himself throw up, but he knows that’s not even remotely related to the root of his problem.

"Tell me what happened," Chuuya growls.

"It's just a few broken ribs," Dazai says quietly, but he’s finding it to be quite painful to even speak right now. He brings his hand back up to his chest.

“I’m calling one of our doctors over,” Chuuya hisses as he sets the cup of medicine on the nightstand.

Dazai freezes at the mere suggestion of that.

“No, Chuuya. Please,” he says, his breath hitching halfway through. His brain is flooded with awful things he doesn’t want to consider. “They’ll report to Mori.”

Chuuya stops in his tracks, his shoulders dropping at the last word Dazai speaks.

Dazai knows he's being paranoid. Realistically, Mori can't get to him anymore. Chuuya would never let him, he doesn't think anyone would, but none of them know the half of what Mori did to him. He would gladly use any opportunity to treat his body like a cadaver, wouldn’t he? Even now?

Even if he wouldn’t, Dazai is so paranoid about it that he’s losing his composure, and that's the problem.

He leans over the bed and gags into his hand, fully expecting to throw up, but it’s just saliva that’s pooled in his mouth. He keeps his hand under his mouth just in case, but now the nausea is pushed to the back of his mind, his brain focused on how much his current posture is hurting his lungs.

“Shit, hey. I won’t call our doctors,” Chuuya murmurs quietly, a gentle but cautious hand landing on Dazai’s shoulder. “Well…what about that doctor at your agency? Can’t she help you?”

“She’s in Osaka,” Dazai recalls. He winces at the concern in Chuuya’s voice. “I’m…I’m fine.”

“Fucking hell, Dazai, you’re not fine,” Chuuya huffs. His voice shakes. Dazai should have known that Chuuya is just as protective as Kunikida, if not worse. He can’t kind from any of them. “I’ll just - I’ll take you to a hospital.”

“You can’t just walk into a hospital, Chuuya," Dazai laughs dryly. He shivers at the thought of going to a hospital, but it’s a far better idea than being found by Mori. It doesn’t make him gag, at least.

“I don’t fucking give a fuck,” Chuuya growls. “You know how serious broken ribs can get, especially if you already have a fucking fever. You’ve probably got an infection. Why the hell would they just let you go home?”

Dazai wants to tell him that they let him go home because he didn't tell anyone he was injured. He doesn't like bothering them if he doesn't have to, and honestly, he prefers to avoid medical treatment of any kind altogether if he can. He was just trying to see how long he could go avoiding it.

"I'm gonna call a taxi and take you downstairs," Chuuya breathes out, turning on his heel and heading back for the kitchen to find his phone.

Dazai is left with his own brain, which is incredibly dangerous. He groans from the pain he’s in, and he’s trying not to think too hard about needing to go to a hospital. Maybe they can just sedate him before they do anything. He’d much prefer that. Is that an option?

He lays down on his side and curls up into a ball, but he doesn’t feel any better, it’s getting harder to breathe and that nauseous feeling won’t go away either, and it comes back with a vengeance. He forces his head up because he knows something is going to come up out of his throat, and he does feel a tiny bit guilty about getting it on Chuuya’s bed, but he can’t avoid it.

Dazai can't breathe. He's not entirely sure what he's coughing up. Foam, phlegm, vomit, maybe some blood, maybe a little bit of everything. He's seen Akutagawa do this on several occasions, actually, but he's never experienced it himself, so he's almost certain this has something to do with his lungs. Maybe the broken shards of his ribcage have poked holes into his lungs.

Oh god, he really can't breathe.

Chuuya's talking to him, but he can't hear a word. He hears his own name, he thinks, but all he can focus on is the sharp, unbelievable pain in his chest.

…

“It sounds to me like he has a lung infection, Dazai,” Mori says to him, expectant. He was waiting for Dazai to agree, to hand his subordinate over and let Mori take care of the rest. But even at seventeen, Dazai was smart enough to know Mori’s true intentions.

“Oh yeah? You’re a doctor now?” Dazai jokes. He’s stalling, only in Mori’s office to take a book or two out of his library that Hirotsu mentioned he needed for something he was working on. Akutagawa is outside the office, waiting. He’s coughing every now and then, coughs that really don’t sound good and that Dazai is well aware of, but he won’t hand him over to Mori.

“Come now, Dazai. Don’t let your subordinates suffer on account of your stubborn nature,” Mori teases.

“I’m not letting anyone suffer, Mori. A little cough never killed anyone,” Dazai says back, mocking that same teasing tone as he pulls out the last book he needs, but when he turns around, he realizes Mori had plans of his own. Elise was busy opening the door to the office and taking Akutagawa’s arm to lead him inside.

Akutagawa looks to Dazai, unsure of what’s going on, what he’s been brought in for, and Dazai is frozen. Dazai has been trying to limit their contact as much as humanly possible, and Mori seems to have become aware of that.

“My, don’t you look awful. How long have you had this cough for?” Mori asks him as Elise drags him closer, but Akutagawa resists the closer he’s brought into Mori’s frame of view. Dazai shakes. He’s been looking for a way to have Akutagawa seen by a doctor that Mori wouldn’t know about, but it’s nearly impossible. It’s something he’s been trying to do for himself, too, and he still hasn’t figured out how to do it. How to get one step ahead of Mori.

“Don’t answer him. We’re leaving,” Dazai growls, glaring at Akutagawa so he knows he’s serious, and Akutagawa shrinks back, still dead silent. Dazai takes Elise’s arm to pull her off of Dazai, and she disappears as soon as they make contact.

“Dazai, really? That wasn’t very nice of you,” Mori huffs. “It’s cruel of you to let your subordinates suffer. You know I would never want that for you, don’t you?”

Dazai takes Akutagawa’s arm and pulls him toward the exit, ignoring Mori’s words. Akutagawa is rightfully confused, but Dazai doesn’t need him to have any more information than he already does. He closes the door behind the two of them, and Akutagawa pulls his arm up to cough into his elbow. Dazai hears his chest rattle. He’s undoubtedly got a fever, too.

“Don’t ever go to him for any of this. Understand? I don’t care what he says,” Dazai bites, audibly frustrated and maybe a little scared, but Akutaagwa can’t pick up on the second half.

“I know,” Akutagawa answers, voice hoarse, “you’ve told me already.”

“Just making sure you listened. You’re not very good at that.” Dazai huffs, leading him down the corridor and back to the elevator.

Akutagawa looks like he’s ready to retort that claim, but he starts coughing again, into his hand, this time - blood and foam coating his palm, visibly startling him, too. He needs to see a doctor, he might even need to go to a hospital, Dazai doesn’t know the extent of his infection at all, but this isn’t normal.

Akutagawa trips when they pass the threshold of the elevator, clearly his head isn’t where it’s supposed to be - he catches himself on his hands and knees and the coughing only gets worse, bright red blood splattering on the marble elevator floor. He takes in shaky and unsteady breaths in between. Dazai just spends a few seconds staring. What the hell is he supposed to do about this?

Akutagawa collapses completely after one heavy breath seems to take all of his remaining energy out of him, and Dazai only thinks about how lucky he is that this happened here, and not in front of Mori. He just stares at his shaking form as they descend the building, and Dazai needs to have a game plan of what to do once they reach the bottom.

“Dazai,” Akutagawa barely manages to breathe out, making a pathetic attempt to get off of the floor, only to crash back down into it. Dazai kneels down beside him. He can’t even carry Akutagawa. Who does he call? What does he do?

“I know. Give me a few hours to figure it out,” Dazai murmurs.

Anyone but Mori. Akutagawa can’t go through what Dazai went through.

…

When Dazai wakes up, he’s stuck in a hospital room, the sterile smell of it all only reminding him how nauseous he is.

He imagines he’s been asleep for quite a while, but he doesn’t feel well-rested at all. He’s never felt that way after a hospital visit. It’s the pain medications they pump him full of, he thinks - they’re the only reason he’s slept at all, probably.

But he can breathe a little easier. There’s a mask over his nose and mouth, probably not a good sign.

There’s a nurse in the room with him, looking surprised to see his eyes meeting hers. She says something to him but Dazai doesn’t have any idea what she’s saying. The mask she’s wearing makes it impossible to even guess. She seems to jot down his vital signs before she scurries out of the room.

He realizes what she was saying to him when Chuuya comes trailing in through the door, his hair tucked into a beanie that doesn't suit him and wearing a hoodie, a black mask and a pair of fake glasses.

If Dazai had the energy to laugh right now, he would probably do it until he couldn’t breathe anymore. Chuuya doesn’t look all that ridiculous, it’s a decent disguise in practice, but it’s hilarious all the same. Only because Dazai knows Chuuya.

A shaky hand of his reaches up to pull down the mask, and Chuuya almost pulls it back over his face once he’s at Dazai’s bedside, but the nurse gives a little nod. She says something to him before she leaves the room, but the sound is muffled.

Chuuya’s voice, though, is as clear as a bell.

“You look like shit,” Chuuya mumbles, brushing his hair back and out of his face, pulling off his own mask once the nurse is out of the room. Not the first thing Dazai wants to hear when he wakes up, but it’s Chuuya.

“You look stupid,” Dazai retorts, his voice so hoarse it almost sounds like he’s lost it completely. He wants to clear his throat, but has a feeling that won’t make him feel any better.

Chuuya grumbles something under his breath before he pulls off the beanie and pushes the glasses up on top of his head, and Dazai’s never been so glad to see that annoyingly bright colored hair before. He’s really kind of gorgeous. Maybe it’s the drugs making him think that.

"I'm sorry I left you," Chuuya murmurs, reaching over to squeeze the hand that’s free from an IV. "I know you hate places like this."

Dazai's a little unsure of what to say. Chuuya's not the type to get so candid with him, and while Dazai truly does despise being in hospitals, he doesn't remember ever telling Chuuya that directly. Then again, his memory of the past has been hazy. He doesn't even remember much of anything after losing his breath on Chuuya's bedroom. For all he knows, Chuuya could have been with him the whole time.

"I'm an adult now, you know," Dazai teases, flashing a weak smile.

Chuuya rolls his eyes. "Not what I'm talking about. But whatever."

"It's fine, slug," Dazai tells him. It’s not nearly as bad of a fear as it used to be for him. He knows that sometimes it’s unavoidable. He knows he doesn't have to worry about Mori anymore, at least not while in the care of the Armed Detective Agency.

“You scared the shit out of me. Seriously,” Chuuya mumbles. “You’re staying with me for a while once you’re discharged.”

“I have to go back to work,” Dazai whispers. Sure, it’s not the working part he’s concerned with, but he really should pop in every now and then at the very least, so that they know he’s alive. Before Kunikida decides to end his life prematurely.

“Since when you do give a shit about that?" Chuuya groans, squeezing his hand a little tighter. "They're the reason you're in this mess in the first place, aren’t they?”

Dazai’s stomach drops at the notion, because that’s really not the truth. He simply lied to them, just like he lied to Chuuya. It’s what he always does. It has nothing to do with any of them.

They probably would've taken good care of him, too.

“Mm…I think you've got it all wrong, little Slug,” Dazai says, feeling himself start to doze off again. He's exhausted and doesn't particularly feel like explaining any of that to him, even though he's sure Chuuya would at least consider it.

“Don't call me little, you ass,” Chuuya grumbles, squeezing his hand a little tighter, “I'm taking you back to my apartment once you're discharged. End of story.”

Dazai's eyelids start to feel heavy, and he doesn't fight Chuuya's demand. He can always sneak out if he needs to.

But maybe he'll be okay with Chuuya looking after him, for a while.

…

A week later, Dazai thinks he's well enough to slip out of Chuuya's apartment early one morning, to pop into the Agency.

“Healing well from your broken ribs, Dazai?” Ranpo says as he happens to wander past him just as soon as Dazai enters the building.

“Can't keep any secrets from you, can I, Ranpo?” Dazai says, only sounding a little nervous because he can feel Kunikida glaring at him all the way from his desk. It seems the two of them are the only ones here so far, like usual. At least Atsushi isn't here to witness Dazai's inevitable death at Kunikida's hands.

“You know I don't normally air out everything you try to hide, but Kunikida already wants to kill you,” Ranpo says casually on his way back to his desk. “Figured it doesn't matter what I say.”

“Morning, Kunikida,” Dazai says as cheerfully as he can, but Kunikida has already hurled a pretty heavy report collection his way, one that Dazai's head just narrowly misses. He brings his heads up to his face in surrender.

“Don't morning me, Dazai. Where the hell have you been? Obviously you were injured, and I haven’t heard from you in over a week -”

“Aww, Kunikida, were you worried about me?” Dazai teases. His eyes dart over to Ranpo blissfully ignoring everything happening before him, wondering why he didn't give Kunikida his whereabouts when he could have easily figured out where he's been hiding. He just smiles, though. Ranpo keeps hidden what Dazai doesn't want everyone to know about.

“I'm one more incident away from putting a tracker in that damn bolo tie,” Kunikida grumbles, somehow managing to get past his anger and sit back down in his chair. He grumbles something that Dazai doesn't quite understand. He feels safe enough to approach his own desk, and sit across from Kunikida.

“What was that?” Dazai asks, tilting his head.

“Are you okay?” Kunikida says, straightening up a stack of reports on his desks with a heavy huff.

“I'm okay,” Dazai says with a half smile. “No need to worry your pretty little head about me, Kunikida. You know the universe won't let me die.”

“That's not the point, Dazai,” Kunikida grumbles, almost reminiscent of a comment Chuuya made to him at the hospital. These two always insist on worrying over him. “Tell me next time you're hurt. At least send me a damn text so I know you're not bleeding out in a ditch somewhere.”

“Well, I could be, regardless of the contents of whatever text I might send you,” Dazai teases, and Kunikida looks like he might throw the pen he's holding right at Dazai's head, but he refrains.

“Get to work. You still need to finish that report,” Kunikida grumbles, tossing him a blue folder.

“I thought you said you'd finish it for me,” Dazai says, lifting up his head as the door opens, revealing Atsushi and Kyoka, both looking surprised to see him. Atsushi rushes past everyone else as Dazai smiles at him.

“No, you pissed me off. I started it, you do the rest,” Kunikida sighs just before Atsushi sits beside him and starts a string of worried questions and assumptions that Dazai only half listens to, only watches his eyes. Chuuya really does have them wrong, they would never want him in that situation.

Chuuya would definitely like Atsushi, with how much he likes Akutagawa. He might even get along with Kunikida. Chuuya joining them for dinner sometime is some faraway ridiculous fantasy that he could only ever see Oda suggesting, and he just smiles to himself.

“Are you even listening?” Atsushi sighs.

“Sorry, sorry,” Dazai says. “Start over?”

[valeskawhore]

“Y/n Dracula?”

PART TWO!!!!

Word(s): 1.3k

Character(s)/parings: Wednesday x Fem! Vampire! Reader! (GirlxGirl)

Series/show(?): series— 2/??

*~*~*~*~*

Dark, creepy, and dead silent. Those are the words I would use to describe Nevermore. The weatherman wasn’t kidding when he explained that there was barely any sun in Jericho, vermont. It was like autumn all year round.

Everything that caught my eye was like copy and paste. It’s like the town was under some spell or trance that caused them all to be depressed at the same time. Not one smile on our way here, no one stopped to wave or say hello like usual when they saw a fancy car drive by.

They glared, as if they were offended by newcomers.

A town with this small of a population— it was to be expected that they didn’t easily accept newcomers, the town had quite the interesting history of banning outcasts.

Alec tried making small conversation here and there but gave up halfway through when it finally sunk in his mind that I was making no attempts to answer him or even care about what he had to say.

I felt a guilt bubble in my stomach, he didn’t deserve my wrath but it was the only thing on my mind so I just did my best to ignore him without trying to lash out. It wouldn't help my situation anyways. Either way, I'm going to this ridiculous school and there's nothing I can do about it.

Two things caught my eye,

One was an old antique shop, and the other was a fairly busy cafe on the corner of a T-section. It had fairly good business, something they were selling must have been good enough if it was still up and running. Though, by the looks of it, we’ll see how long that’ll even last.

I like shity cafe music… Maybe that’ll be something to do when I finally get permission to go into town.

*~*~*~*

“Hmm, Nevermore doesn't usually accept newcomers this late into the semester.” Principal Weems adjusted her glasses, skimming through my paperwork. “You’d have to do some extra classes in order to catch up on credits.”

“I don’t mind the work, that won't be a problem.” I added in.

“Well… Miss Edith, given your 4.0 GPA, that doesn't surprise me. You haven't failed a grade, never missed a day of school, your IQ level is above a 150– which is more than intelligent enough. “ she smiled, setting the paperwork to the side and giving me her full attention. “Besides,” she smiled once more, “Who am i? To turn down the one and only– Count Dracula’s only living heir. I'm surprised he enrolled you as late as he did.”

I kept my posture straight, crossing one leg over the other. “He is something.”

She laughed, “I would expect nothing less from a Dracula.”

I let out a breath of relief, smiling slightly. Her blue eyes scanned my figure, looking me up and down as if judging me right then and there. If I wasn't as sharp as I was– I'd probably say something dark was swirling around in her eyes as she smiled at me. Something felt off about this woman, I just couldn't put my finger on it just yet.

Finally, she let out the question she’d been holding in,

“You are aware of how to control yourself around others, correct? Especially normies??” she asked, “Because as you and I both know sweetie, being dracula means you’re a lot more… Different from others.”

‘Ah… that’s what she wanted to ask.’

“What all can you do exactly? Miss y/n?”

I dropped my head, suddenly feeling ashamed. She’s right, I am different. And not because I am a half-blood but because, unlike other vampires who can take medication to control themselves– I was a problem.

I was stronger than others, faster, and I craved actual blood. I couldn’t be out in the sunlight for too long on actual days when the sun was finally out.

I could glamor people to get what I wanted but in-order for that to work, I needed to be superior to them in power. In my case, that wasn’t a problem. I haven’t met someone I couldn't glamor… yet.

Every second that passed by, I felt more and more like I was being judged. She expected an answer while staring at me so intently, I thought she was going to burn holes in my skull.

I finally gave her one,

“I.. have my own personal supplies on things I need. As for power, I can't be out in the sunlight without my ring for too long, but besides that– pretty much the same for other vampires. I'm able to keep human food down long enough for it to digest, but that still doesn't stop the urges.”

She stared for a long time, scanning my face for any traces to which I'd be lying.

After a few moments, she smiled, feeling satisfied with my lie. “That’s perfect, I trust you can manage your own supplies correct?”

I nodded.

*~*~*~*~*

“Welcome to Aurora Hall! We are so excited to finally have someone new joining us!” The young girl buzzed with excitement, damn-near shaking in her boots while she held the door open.

“I’m your new roommate! My name is Abigail but my friends call me Abi! We’re friends right!? Since we’re roommates!? That definitely automatically makes us—”

“Woahhhhh honeypie, I understand you are very excited– but let’s give Edith sometime to settle in, hm?” My dorm mother explained. Marylin? I believe her name was.

Very nice women.

I smiled nervously, not really knowing what else to do. Abigail was definitely someone I'd have trouble getting along with, I realize I might have to set boundaries if I'm going to make this work.

Shrugging everything off, I picked my suitcases up from the ground and gently carried them into the room.

It was huge. The room was already divided into two separate halves and it was already obvious which one was Abigails. She specializes in terrakinesis– she had a green thumb alright, abi could make anything grow.

Her side of the room was filled with green and black vines growing up the walls with flowers blooming around every corner. They spread everywhere around her side of the room. Abi also had dozens of small plants littered around her room, growing all types of flowers– And believe me when I say, Abigail absolutely adored flowers.

DVD players and radios stacked up on one side of the room, next to her bed. Almost working as a nightstand without the drawers. She had an electric guitar also, with a microphone setup with speakers.

Maybe this chick wasn't so bad afterall.

The other side of the room, my side– was as to be expected. A queen sized mattress with a large frame reaching the ceiling sat in the corner neatly.

Definitely compliments from my father– added with two wide dark burgundy dressers to match. Everything else was completely barren, waiting and ready for me to unpack.

I gave a small smile, turning back to my dorm mother when she called my name.

“Here,” She smiled at me, holding a flower pot out. “I try to match just the right flower to all of my girls. This one is a—”

I cut her off, “Wolfsbane. Which is highly dangerous.. Also more commonly associated with werewolves, witches……. and even—”

“That's right, Vampires…I found it fitting for the one and only heir to the Dracula legacy.” She smiled widely.

I stared at her, holding the flower.

After a moment, I smiled as widely as she did, my fangs releasing from the roof of my mouth. She was taken back by how quickly they ejected,

“Thank you,” I laughed, “How very stereotypical of you.”

Marylin struggled to smile, taking a few steps back before making her way to the doorway. “Well uh,” she coughed, raising her hand to her mouth nervously, “Let me know if I can do anything for you girls.” She excited the room quickly after, shutting the door with a loud click.

I Laughed almost immediately, retracting my fangs. A skill only a dracula ascendent could master. We could almost pass off as a normie if it wasn’t for the restricted sunlight, the pasty white skin, dark red rimmed eyes and the two sets of retractable fangs.

I began to unpack my suitcases, Abigail offered to assist but I shot her down and did my best to be polite about it. Having a ‘bright’ ‘innocent’ girl like herself put away packaged bags of blood among other things was too much of a headache to have to deal with. She understood, and offered to give me space and time to unload everything.

I thanked her, nodding my head. “I’ll be faster unpacking alone.'' I threw in, not wanting to sound like an asshole. “Give me a few minutes and I'll let you assist me in grabbing my uniform and schedule.”

Abigail almost jumped out of her skin at the opportunity. “Yes!!! iI would love it too! Of course, no problem– I'll be down the hallway when you're ready!”

As soon as she left the room, I sighed.

“Father…what have you gotten me into now..?”

[hauntedparadisebandana]

Another day, another assassin's creed hc (I'm trying to feed you guys this week)

Crazy enough, this one isn't about Desmond, but Shaun. I hc that Shaun likes to pick up new languages like Pokémon cards. It's one of his strong points and is fairly easy for him. He likes the sound and feeling of different words rolling off his tongue and how nice it sounds, which leads me to hc he has a mild case of echolalia or synesthesia.

In many instances while working, he'll listen to Desmond in the background, talking to himself in a different language. Shaun will then mumble the words to himself, repeating them under his breath while his eyes remain glued to his screen. He loves the way it sounds in his mouth, pure satisfaction. It would be weird to think of, a strong, smart, head-on guy like him to do that. He's been looked at weirdly by the others once or twice, being caught whispering to himself. He makes the excuse that he's simply trying to remember information.

Rebecca thinks it's just this funniest thing ever. Laughing when she finds out about it, determined to catch it for herself. One bright early morning, Shaun is already in the kitchen making coffee. The others trickle in soon after, and Desmond enters a bit later, mumbling in Italian.

"Care for a cup, Desmond?" He inquires, sliding a hot cup across the counter for him.

"I should probably start writing the shopping list for this week- ah, yes, grazie."

"Grazie," Shaun silently whispers into his cup, taking a sip. His face then curls up in disgust, he forgot the creamer. He makes quick work of getting some so his cup won't go cold. He glances up at the others for a moment, surprised when he sees Desmond with narrowed eyes, Rebecca sneering in the back, and Lucy chuckling quietly.

The silence and stares causes his skin and face to flush and go hot.

"And just why are you guys staring?" He lowers his brows, hand on his hip.

"Dude, we just caught you. Why do you do that? You know, repeat what he says." Rebecca's question puts him on the spot. Her eyes scrutinizing him.

"Yea, now that I think about it, I have seen you whispering to yourself after I talk. I thought I was just crazy." Desmond turns on his heels, walking back over to the counter where Shaun stands frozen in place.

He begins to talk and nothing comes out, his skin feeling prickly, no words leaving his mouth because he does know, well... maybe. But It would be weird to explain why he does it.

"It seems like echolalia," Lucy proclaims, "Maybe it just feels good to say, or it could be synesthesia."

"Echo... synesthe... what?" Desmond raises a brow.

"Echolalia is the repetition of words, phrases, or sounds. Synesthesia is when the brain basically routes sensory information through multiple different senses. So you'll experience more than one sense at the same time, get it?"

"Ah, ok."

Rebecca's hand flies to her phone, quickly looking up what this... echolalia and synesthesia is in further detail.

"mumble" common in speech development, "mumble" verbal stim "mumble" can occur in people with certain conditions "mumble" adhd "mumble" autism.... yada yada. Well, Shaun's speech is way past the development stage, and he's not autistic. Maybe he's just weird." An evil smirk crosses her face.

"YOU PISS OFF REBECCA!"

"Please don't get him worked up." Lucy mutters with an eye roll.

[howtofightwrite]

Hello there! What are the pros and cons of using naginatas as a weapon specifically? Is it fairly similar to the ones for lots of other polearms? Or is it it's own unique thing? (Trying to get an accurate idea of how it would feel to use one in combat for some writing I want to do.)

Thanks!

Pros:

Firmly encourage people to maintain social distancing.

Slice people you haven't even met yet.

Slice people riding horses or standing on low roofs.

Add ribbons and streamers as fashion accessories.

Easy to carry.

Can always find one at the right length for you.

Better leverage for your blade than if it had been mounted of a katana.

Never need to explain that you're overcompensating for something.

Amazing looking duels with fellow naginata users.

You can use it on horseback.

Try to impress the Onna-musha.

Cons:

A little bit claustrophobic.

Not great in a mosh pit.

Doesn't like going indoors.

Not good against people who refuse to social distance.

No one will respect you for being a samurai, and may still make fun of you.

Still a delicate razor blade.

Fail to impress the Onna-musha, they know all your moves, are probably better at them than you, and are more interested in making jokes about the length of your shaft.

So, the naginata is basically the blade of a katana mounted on the end of a long shaft. This doesn't make it inherently bad. But it does inherit some of the weakness of a sword, combined with the range of a polearm. That said, keeping them intact is quite doable, you just need to be careful about how you strike.

As mentioned above, and as with almost all polearms, it shines in situations where you can keep enemies at range, and becomes a lot less appealing if you can't keep them off of you. This means it works really well in phalanx-style applications. As with all (or, almost all polearms), it has serious value as an anti-cavalry weapon, letting you dispatch riders.

As for it being its own unique thing, yes and no. It is a different kind of polearm, and you can probably some surviving manuals on exactly how to use them. And there is a modern martial art based on the original form. However, I don't know how much of the original Naginatajitsu martial art has been lost. As far as I know, there were at least a few decades between the, “death,” of the martial art in 1868, and it's revival sometime after 1889. Also, when it was revived, it was as a physical fitness regimen, and not as a martial art. That's enough time, to lose a lot of the technical detail, and meant that if it was preserved, it was done so quietly, which increases the risk of elements being lost.

As polearms go, the naginata is pretty light, ranging from about 3 to 8lbs. (Specifically 1.5 – 3.5kg.) Which does make it a bit more agile than you'd expect from a polearm. It's not clear how much of the flourishes you'll see from modern martial artists were actually part of the original martial art or just spectacle, but you can get some solid movement out of them. And even in its day it the weapon's agility was noteworthy. (Though, to be fully honest, I'm not sure how much of that was in the contemporary literature, and how much is from modern analysis. I do suffer from not being able to read the primary sources in this case.)

Naginatas were a very egalitarian weapon, used by the samurai, monks, peasant footsoldiers, and the Onna-musha (women warriors.) That last category has become one of its more enduring cultural associations. In fact the physical fitness revival was specifically targeted as exercise for young girls. (This is part of why the weight range is so wide, as there's a massive variance in shaft length. Anywhere from 4 to 8 feet in length. (Specifically 120-240cm.)) As a polearm, that's kinda short, but the blade itself adds another 85-100cm. This puts the total length at between 6'8” and 11'2”. And, yeah, a three meter polearm is not a joke. Even if there is an unusual amount of blade on the end of that shaft. It's part of why the naginata is immediately distinguishable from other polearms of similar sizes.

The short answer would be that it is a specific weapon, with its own identity. Some of that is a function of physics and some is cultural.

-Starke

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[polyamorousmood]

My gf (mtf) is fairly monogamous but I'm not necessarily, especially with sex. I have an offer from our mutual male friend (cis) to try penetration since I (afab nb) am terrified but curious about it and he's one of the only cis guys I'd feel comfortable trying that with. I have hooked up with him once before, prior to meeting my gf, and it was really good. My gf is fairly supportive about it, one of the things that really works for us sex-wise is that neither of us want penetration in our relationship. I'm just absolutely terrified of making her insecure and ruining her friendship with our friend. I know I can function fine with blurring the lines between sex, friends, and partners, but she's got the trauma of an ultra-Christian childhood and has so much constant dysphoria that I'm scared something like this could ruin our relationship. We talked so much when he first offered and I know she's not opposed, but I just keep thinking about all the horror stories I've read about couples opening up their relationship or trying poly after being mono and it ruining them. Especially if I end up wanting it more than just once with our friend. I don't particularly need advice, I'm just laying in bed next to her in the dark scrolling horrifying stories on Reddit while talking with our friend over text getting all up in my head about our dynamics and I don't have anyone to vent to about this right now. I figure a polyam blog on tumblr will at least understand that nuances that come with figuring this stuff out. Thanks for listening

It's really fair that you'd be worried about this, and it's a really good sign for everything that you want to do this consciously and carefully - if at all. Sincerely the worst thing about polyamory (and related things) is how isolating it can be. 😣Oftentimes, the only person you can even discuss problems with is the partner who is also all up in the problem. Which I clearly don't need to explain to you how that sucks.

You said you didn't need anything but listening. But like, it's me. So.... 🤷‍♀️

Reddit and the forums are the mother of all selection biases: happy people generally don't feel the need to post about their lives online, and people who have found something sustainable but not completely perfect don't feel like their input is valuable because they "still have problems" even though how things can work really well or well enough is probably some of the most valuable information to you!

It's not your fault if your partner lies about or grossly mis-estimates her okayness level on this. And if she is the type of person to usually lies about or grossly mis-estimates her okayness level with things, its bound to be a problem at some point, even if you can successfully avoid it being a problem on this one issue by being really anxious.

🗣📢EXPLICITLY UNSOLICITED ADVICE WARNING🚨🚨 Everything up to this point could be construed as "just thoughts" but the following is unambiguously advice. Stop reading now if you want to continue in your unadvized state. She cannot assure you with 100% certainty she will not have a problem with it. If she tries, all she'll do is lock herself into not being able to tell you if she does. The only helpful thing in these situations I have found is to establish a procedure for what to do if there is a problem. Give her the tools to find something that's comfortable for her. Give her the certainty that you will listen to her, talk things through (which is sometimes a solution on its own!), and not hold it against her if you need to make changes. Then you can rest assured if there are problems, they won't last.

When you're doing "but I don't want to hurt herrrrrr😖" anxiety calculus, remember your non monogamous tendencies probably aren't going to stop! So also evaluate if you'd be okay with never ever doing anything with someone besides your gf. And if you're not. It will probably hurt her worse if you say you're fine with staying monogamous forever now, and then feel like you're about to snap two years later. So just like. Factor that into your calculations, too, haha!😅

And as a close

I'm with you. I feel you. This blog has DMs open if you want to talk more organically or about details you don't want to be public. No matter how this shakes out, you will get through to the other side.💙💖🖤

[plague-of-insomnia]

I'm sorry if this is a silly question but I'm just curious. Do you know how much time Ciel and Sebastian spend in Weston? I haven't read the manga in a while but while watching the anime I just feel like everything is happening too fast??? Luke the whole are was done in 2 weeks max

Hi, anon, I am not someone who pays super close attention to the chronology of canon (as in, exactly what day/date things happen) partly bc I care more about the overall story and themes and the characters than minutiae like that. Not bc I think people who do are dumb but bc I’m more of an AU creator than canon so knowing the details like that to extreme doesn’t really benefit me much so it doesn’t interest me to spend the time doing it. (Though I know at least one person did come up with a timeline through a certain point in the manga years ago, which you may find if you do a google search.)

But what I can tell you is Ciel comes home from the Campania before Easter and arrives at Weston presumably after that holiday, so likely in March or April. (I could probably find out exactly when Easter happened in 1889 but I honestly could care less lol.) We also know from McMillian that he is joining mid-term. It’s actually a clever way for Yana to have the school “begin” in Spring (which is familiar/nostalgic for Japanese audiences, where school years begin in April, usually) while still reconciling with the Western tradition of beginning in the fall.

We also know the cricket tournament takes place on the 4th of June—probably a day Yana picked since it plays with the theme of four (four houses, four prefects) in the arc but also because the number has an association with death in Japanese.

This means that Ciel is not a student at Weston for very long at all—only 2-3 months at most—since the midnight tea party happens after the cricket completes and presumably marks the end (or close to it) of the school year/term.

Honestly, until the last episode I think the anime has been perfectly paced with the manga. They’ve really made only minor shifts and mostly expanded things, so they’re following Yana’s vision fairly closely.

The one major thing is that this episode shoves most of two chapters into one, when it really could have been done in two. But that would mean 12 episodes. and I suspect the team was worried if they didn’t get the cricket part over fast, they might risk losing/boring their core audience.

One huge change they did was take out the explanation of the game itself and its basic rules, which Bard explains in the manga. This was likely done for time/space reasons but also because they may have figured most viewers don’t care and they can communicate enough for people to understand and follow along even if they don’t understand the rules of the game itself.

This is partly perhaps because the cricket part of the arc was not well received in Japan and was one of the least popular chapters, supposedly. It’s why I was shocked they turned it into a musical a couple years ago.

I was a bit disappointed to lose all that not only bc we lost a nice scene with Bard and the servants (they cut a scene with them where they have lunch, though it’s possible that could make it into next episode, but I won’t hold my breath), but also bc I’m like the ONE person who genuinely enjoyed the cricket part of the arc, and it’s one reason this arc is my second favorite in many ways.

I LOVE seeing Ciel and Seb working together in devious ways to get their mission accomplished, and how far Ciel is willing to go to win. Ofc we can still appreciate it anyway, but the fact that he so carefully works within the limits of the rules— and in fact, I learned in commentary on the arc that some of the rules Ciel takes advantage of were actually changed not long after this period of time, which is a fun detail.

So it could be things feel like they’re moving fast because in a sense they are, but it also could be you’re sensing that urgency from how rushed this last episode was. But I suspect when all is said and done, and you watch the entire thing, it probably won’t feel as off. Book of Murder took place over only 3 days, and Seb and Ciel were not at the circus long at all. I can’t be sure but maybe only a week or two? And ofc the campania adventure was also only a few days. In fact, this may actually be the longest mission in the series to this point. So it seems like most missions don’t take too long.

Hope that answers your question! I’ve been looking through the chapters in this arc before every episode to get a sense for the pacing and they’ve generally fallen exactly where I expect. This episode being one exception since they really did condense a lot.

[leviathans-watching]

Hello! Hope you're doing well hope you dont mind this request- Not sure if you've done this but may I request the om brothers reacting to a slow learner mc?;;

I am one slow learner aha-

Thank you in advance and do take your time!

the brothers with a slow learner

includes: the brothers x/& gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)

wc: .7k | rated t | m.list

a/n: thank you for requesting and i hope you enjoy it!! my inbox is open to chat, req, or leave feedback so come drop by! i don't bite lol.

please reblog <33333

➳ lucifer realizes the issue fairly early on. after all, he is in charge of monitoring your task progress, so he knows that the, ah, relative lack of it isn’t because you didn’t try. not wanting to embarrass you, he doesn’t bring it up directly, but instead reworks the talk plan to try and make it more manageable for you. he also casually slides in offers for help and makes sure you’re aware that you’re more than welcome to sit in on any of his sessions with his brothers. overall, you seem to do a lot better and he’s glad that he can facilitate the best experience for you possible.

➳ mammon is glad he’s not the only one! oftentimes, he feels like he falls behind his brothers and it’s definitely a sore spot, so to find someone else with similar issues is such a weight off his back. you work together on a lot of things, helping each other where possible, and it makes asking for help a lot less scary as he doesn’t have to worry as much about coming off as stupid or like he’s not trying. you also do a lot to help him, dismantling those assumptions about him in other people’s eyes.

➳ levi isn’t the most studious, but tends to pick up on things quickly, which is the opposite of you, as you spend a lot of time with your books but need more time to synthesize and understand the content. eventually, he asks you about it, trying to explain he doesn’t mean any harm and just wants to help, which leads to you feeling more comfortable coming to him and asking questions. he also helps you find trustworthy study sites as all of the human-world ones you used to use were no longer applicable.

➳ satan didn’t really pay enough attention to notice the info until you come to him on your own accord, explaining how you’re having trouble with the new material, especially since you’re missing so much of the background those who have been at rad for a long time have. it becomes common for him to pass along his notes and annotations for you, as well as for him to proofread your papers, which honestly he really enjoys, as your human perspective is quite insightful even without all of the demon background. additionally, he uses you for knowledge too, asking you all sorts of things about the human realm shamelessly.

➳ asmo isn’t the fastest learner either, but he usually tries to keep that under wraps, studying in secret when others think he’s in his room messing with his clothes and makeup or going to the library when he tells his brothers he's going out on the town. you find him out quickly, coincidentally at the library when he’s there late one night, and before you know it, you two have regular study sessions. you help him be more open about where he needs help, something that’s truly a blessing even if it’s a little shameful to admit at first.

➳ beel doesn’t really study. he probably should, but hey, his grades are decent and he’d much rather hit the gym or restaurants around town. but he sees how hard you work and not only brings you snacks and a much-needed smile when you start to stress spiral but also pulls you away to go on a walk or get your blood pumping, which you find actually helps you a lot. he also (eventually) gets convinced to start studying more which helps his grades get a bit better and also allows you two to spend time together, which is a tradeoff he’s willing to make.

➳ belphie doesn’t really study either, and unlike been, his grades are not decent. they are abysmal. part of it is that he missed a lot of content when he was up in the attic and is now pretty far behind, but also he’s not motivated, especially since he really couldn’t care less. he also likes how angry it makes lucifer. after a few failed attempts to get him to study and put more effort in, you leave him be, but the guilt starts to eat at him when he goes to sleep in your bed with you bent over your desk and wakes up with you passed out with your face in your book, and attends some study sessions with you and beel.

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

[collecting-stories]

Sylvie surprising Will after their shifts with some new lingerie? Just finished the episode with her in it, and Will would be absolutely floored 😏

Flexing my Will x Sylvie writing skills, hopefully this is something lol!!

-

Midnight Surprise - Will Halstead x Sylvie Brett

Summary: What the ask said...Sylvie surprising Will with lingerie. Featuring a pep-talk by Violet.

A/N: First time writing Will Halstead and first time writing Will x Sylvie. I also still think I like Brettstead as a ship name the best. As always, banners by @saradika

One Chicago Masterlist

"Maybe...maybe this isn't a good idea," Sylvie mused, chancing another look in the mirror. She was wearing a thin mesh matching set: longline bralette and dolphin hotshorts with a ruffled edges, and applacay flowers (that left little to the imagination) in dark green. She didn't have much opportunity for lingerie between her schedule and Will's, half the time she was lucky if she even saw him at night, but she had off for the next two days and he was home at midnight and she had decided to throw caution to the wind and dress up. Or dress down...as a nice surprise. 

"It's a great idea!" Violet's voice came through the speaker on Sylvie's phone, far more enthusiastic than her blonde counterpart. 

"Well I thought it was a great idea but I almost just flashed the door dash guy," she replied. Sylvie had pulled one of Will's flannels on at the last moment, hand on the door knob when she remembered that she was literally hanging around her apartment in her underwear. The flannel woould have worked even better as a cover-up if she'd remembered to button it all the way but instead she was pretty sure that the door dash driver had gotten a fairly decent look at her chest before she grabbed the food and slammed the door in his face, "plus I was gonna tip him cash and I totally forgot."

"Oh, trust me, you tipped him enough," Violet laughed as Sylvie finished explaining exactly what had happened. 

"I just wanted it to be perfect," she groaned, tapping her phone screen to check the time. Ten minutes, give or take. "Will comes in, I'm drapped over the couch..." She trailed off, looking around the small apartment, "or should I be in the bedroom. No, that seems weird. That's like, oh come find me...in our apartment...that has two rooms."

"I think you're overthinking this whole situtation. Like, all you need to do is answer the door when you know Will is there, like as he's getting his keys to unlock the door, and then bam! Rip off the flannel. He's gonna have a heart attack. Literally, you will be performing CPR in the hallway!"

"Okay, I don't think that's the result I'm going for," Sylvie laughed, "if he wants to toss me over his shoulder and throw me down in bed..."

"Can he?" Violet asked, "like pick you up and toss you over his shoulder?"

"Oh yeah," Sylvie nodded even though Violet couldn't see her, her voice trailing off at the end as the very specific instance of Will doing just that popped into her head. Their first night in the apartment after moving in. Which was also probably the last time their days off had overlapped so perfectly. 

"Okay, bring it back down to earth Sylvie," Violet laughed. "What time does he get home?" 

Just as she asked Sylvie heard footsteps outside her apartment door and the distinct sound of Will's key in the lock. She grabbed her phone from where she'd left it laying on the arm of the couch, "he's here, bye!" She whisper-shouted, ending the call and tossing the phone. She glanced in the mirror for a split second, fixing her hair, before positioning herself in front of the door. So much for draping herself over the couch. 

Sylvie had mentioned going to Molly's tonight with Violet as a cover, knowing that Will was working late and wouldn't think anything of it, giving her time to plan the surprise. From the takeout that had arrived fifteen minutes ago (from Will's favorite place) to the dark green lingerIe set she was wearing. It had also given her time to have a minor panic attack and call Violet for reassurance that she was definitely, totally, doing something that Will would like. 

Finally, in what she felt like was hours later but was only a couple seconds, the lock clicked, door knob turning and Will came in. Looking down at his phone. 

Sylvie waited a beat, not want to scare him by just blurting out a hello, watching him drop his phone on the entry table and leave his backpack and shoes on the ground there too. He dropped his keys next to his phone and then finally looked up, jumping back slightly when he realized Sylvie was home and not at Molly's. 

"Shit!" Will exclaimed, putting his hand over his heart, "I thought you were out with Violet?"

"I'm surprising you," Sylvie replied, gesturing to her outfit.

"Yeah, yes, scared me half to death," Will pointed out. "Did you eat already?" He started to make his way into the kitchen, "I don't think I've eaten anything since lunch and that was...seven hours ago?"

"Will!" Sylvie groaned, following after him. Violet was wrong, he wasn't going to have a heart attack at the sight of her, he was going to be still on Med-brain and not even realize that she was standing in front of him in her underwear. She might as well have been naked, he would probably still be rummaging through the fridge. "There's take out, I put it in the oven to keep warm."

"Oh my god, amazing," he turned away from the fridge, letting the door swing shut and going straight for the pizza in the oven. 

"Will!" Sylvie tried again to get his attention.

"Yeah?" He asked, not turning around as he pulled the pizza out.

"Will."

"What?"

"Turn around!" She insisted. 

He turned, pizza box still in hand, "wha-"

"I'm surprising you," Sylvie repeated, dropping the flannel. 

Will's eyes went wide and he tossed the pizza box behind him onto the stove, "I'll say," his whole face lit up in a smile at the sight of her, Sylvie smiling back excitedly as he closed the distance between them to finally kiss her hello.