#yet hes so painstakingly average

[sillysnack]

put saiki kusuo in bsd yokohama and the bsd cast will be questioning their whole lives.

[kaszuma]

Cat and Mouse | Hoshina Soshiro

Part 2 of "Certainly Yours"

pairing: Hoshina Soshiro x fem!reader

summary: you pull away from his touches when he least suspects it.

warnings: Mentions of potential death. But nothing too descriptive. Soshiro centered POV. Lots of inner monologue and pining.

wc: 1,477

--

note: apologies for any mistakes. Not proofread and writing dialogue is hard.

--

A game of Cat and Mouse. You know the drill.

That was the game they had unintentionally started playing. A tug of war between a ‘will they; won't they’ situation. And for any party involved, this usually isn't a game for the faint hearted.

Now whether this had been his karma for choosing a far more skittish way to approach you. It was up for debate. But surely, his affection for you had far since crossed the borders between friends and lovers. And situations like these are no good for the average hopeless romantic.

And as surprising as that sounded. Soshiro Hoshina, Vice Captain of the Third Division's Defense Force, had been one himself. Painstakingly so.

God. It was his undoing wasn't it? He had initiated, no, encouraged, such actions on his own. And because he kept his grip on her so slack and loosened. She had begun to slip away from his grasp. The possibility of a connection, might now have been severed indefinitely.

He was now reaping what he had sown the moment you had decided to challenge his distant affections. When, just this morning? He had been deserving of such a cold shoulder from your wake.

His hand which would’ve given you a curt wave. An innocent greeting no less. Had an elaborate scheme in mind. Mischief was in his very knuckles as he tried to pass by you in the mess hall. Intent on reaching the Coffee machine, just on the other side of the counter, right past you.

And sure, he could've just as easily circled to the other side without needing to get so close to her. But he couldn't help it. He longed for the small touches on his palm. The warmth that spread on the very fingertips that had gotten so used to the grip of hardened blades. A stark contrast to your waist, which had never once retracted from his advances.

In some cases, you had even leaned close to meet his touch. Or initiated them on your own. If you had been at all bothered by his touches, one word and he would've stopped entirely. That was all it took. He just needed you to say stop. Shove him, push him, beat him even. Just tell him to back away and he'll do it no questions asked.

This distance was enough for him. This distance was healthy. Better for the both of you he internalized.

But each time he moved his hand to guide the small of your back. Brush back some of the stray pieces of hair obscuring your face. Not a single word of dissatisfaction came out of your lips. Encouraging him to move further even.

But he never did.

Distance was good for both of them. He had told himself countless times before. Convinced himself that he was undeserving of those eyes that looked at him like he was the world. Worried etched in the very corners of your brows anytime the familiar blare of Kaiju alarm has startled base.

Your eyes had always held a sort of prayer for his return. And each time, he'd try his best to do just that. A silent promise that he has yet to admit to anyone. Not even himself.

But in the likelihood that he couldn't? That he'd one day die of a fatal injury. He'd rather spare you the feeling of dread later down the line. And his grip on you reluctantly loosened. Not finding it in himself to want to start a relationship that could end in ruins. Your ruin.

So his touches did not linger. His conversations are light and never heavy. And his gaze remained fixated from a distance. A silent admiration anytime you had not been looking. Or atleast he thinks you had not been looking.

And it had worked for some time. His advances never held on too tight, and were never serious in that way. Making you second guess all his actions. Unintentionally no doubt.

But this time? you slipped away.

Indulgence wasn't an option for frontliners like him. He damn well knew that. Especially when the entirety of the Third Division had relied so heavily on both Captain Ashiro and his own strength. So getting close to people was always difficult in every sense of the word.

But now?

Fuck.

Somehow it feels even worse to see you brush past him.

His gaze fixated at the back of your head as she wasted no time to say goodbye to him. A curt salute later and she had already been long gone from his sight. Leaving him alone with nothing in the way of his morning coffee.

Damn it. It must’ve been those romance books he read that had compromised his mind. Those cheesy love stories that almost seemes like fairy tales were fantastical to him. A hopeless romantic. But he disliked the idea of having his braon turned to mush because of it. Or at least, that's what he wished it was.

–

It wasn't a few days later that he had encountered you again. This time on the side of the empty stairs leading up to the hallways of the training room. He had been planning to make a short trip to recreate a certain battle in his head. But his feet faltered the moment he saw you heading down yourself. Taking very careful steps with your hands on the rails.

It had taken a few steps of her own to release Soshiro from his stupor. And he shook his head, beginning to climb up himself. This time, noy once attempting to get as close to her as possible. The two brushed past each other as they had headed in opposite directions.

And just as he made the final step, he had half a mind to look back. And like clockwork, he couldn't help but sneak a glance. Just a peak wouldn't hurt. Though his eyes widened, only to find that you had stopped your own steps from proceeding. Still halfway down the stairs. Eyes fixated on the ground where your flats had slipped past your foot.

Your eyes and his momentarily glanced at each other. And back at the shoe that had slipped past your skin. And just as you turn awkwardly to grab the shoe.

Soshiro had been quicker.

“I didn't picture you as the fairy tale type.” He joked. Internally cussing at himself at initiatong the conversation.

Taking a few steps down to grab your shoe for you. His cat-like gaze, one squinted and ever so unreadable, was unchanged. Like usual.

“It's not exactly a glass slipper.” You had quipped. “And you're not exactly prince charming either.”

You watched as Soshiro had moved down a few steps to kneel in front of you. His hand had already gently grabbed hold of your ankle. Wasting no time as he placed the shoe back on your foot.

“Do you not want me to be?”

“It depends.” You shrug. “You're not exactly clear on what you want to be with me.”

…

“And if I say I wanted to be with you?” his breath had hitched momentarily. The only trace of proof, that he had been affected by her. His face had been too well practiced to show any signs of distress.

“Seriously?” You had chuckled.

“You really need to read the room..” you sigh. Crouching down to his level, where he kneeled in front of you. The steps had made it so you were slightly towering over him.

“You know, for someone so observant, you're pretty bad at this.”

“Am I?” Soshiro had chuckled. It sounded almost like bells in her ears. The type that had been genuine and remained distinctly the same even after all these years.

“Just checking Cinderella.”

“Haha.” sarcasm dripped from your voice. Though he catches the brief glimpse you made towards his lips. “Now, just shut up and kiss me.”

And that he did.

The moment he saw you lean down closer to his face, his own hand had moved against the logic of his brain. The only thing that he had internalized was the hammering of his heart that surrounded his eardrums. His calloused fingertips had met the warmth of your jaw.

Lips finally connected as if they had been deprived of each other for so long. Had he not kissed someone before her, he'd have rewritten this moment as his first.

Fuck me. Now he was really in too deep. And he feels the reluctant way she had pulled away from him.

“See? Wasn't so bad was it?”

Soshiro had chuckled dryly. “Oh, just shut up and kiss me.” and you did. With no hesitation and no second guesses this time.

It seems you've won this little cat and mouse duel of yours. Veni, vidi, vici as one might say.

And god did he wish you had won it sooner.

[lxclerc]

𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲 | 𝐥𝐡𝟒𝟒

summary: you were trying to get better. you were better. and suddenly he's back in your life and now you're right back where you started, stuck in a hallway once again meant to say goodbyes. requested: no warning: angst angst angst, swearing?? sexual innuendos. the series will eventually contain smut pairing: lewis hamilton x rosberg!reader

note: this story is written in a way where the reader is telling a story so the timelines will shift with no warnings. also let me know if you want to be added to this story's taglist.

part 2: two ghosts (coming soon)

you just wanted to pass through. that was the whole fucking point of a hallway, wasn’t it? it didn’t need to be the ongoing cruel joke of your life. you were there and you wanted to be, in the present where you belonged, in a life you didn’t have to hide in. but now you’re not and suddenly you’re stuck in yesterday again, stuck and unable to move on. 

yesterday and tuesday have gone and past though and you were glad of it. you were glad to be rid of him, having left him and a box that contained all of your memories under your bed in your childhood room. and quite frankly, that was better for you. you’d moved on, moved to the other side of the globe where his name isn’t as loud, where you could escape the ghost of him haunting your every waking minute. 

the east knew of his name but it was not the brightest nor the biggest – almost like when you’d started. his star was ascending but his name didn’t come with a trademark quiet yet. 

you’d tagged along with his team, his teammate’s little sister, freshly eighteen with no idea how to grow into the woman your family expected you to be. you’d been born into a name bigger than you could ever grow to be and a legacy you carried like a curse. your future is a blank canvas, one you didn’t have the right colors to pain in. 

your brother, ever the golden, followed exactly in your father’s footsteps. he knew what was expected of him the moment he pressed his foot onto a pedal. you have always envied him  though you’d never once say to his face. he was born with the ability to make your parents proud, something you’ve always lacked. 

all your life, you’ve always been painfully average. you were average in everything you did, anything you pursued. for someone having been born in such an extraordinary family, you were painstakingly ordinary. though nico has always had your back, protecting you and encouraging you to find new hobbies and join new clubs and so it came as no surprise when he’d been the one to come up with the idea. you’d just finished secondary school with zero ideas of what you’d be doing for university and so nico suggested a gap year – join him in his travels for his second season in formula one. find inspiration, a dream, a hobby — anything to occupy your time. 

your parents though, ever loving and protective of their only daughter, had been against the idea at the start. they had no problems with you taking a gap year but they wanted to hold on to you for as long as they could – keep you a child for as long they can. in the rosbergs’ eyes, you’re their little princess as far as they were concerned, sheltered and spoiled your entire life despite your extraordinary ability to be so painstakingly ordinary. they never asked anything of you, which somehow made it all the worse.

eventually though, they relent. nico would be responsible for you – to keep you on a tight leash, never meant to let you out of his sight if he could help, never meant to let you wander off on your own in some foreign country, never allowed to be near any man. 

and so you were stuck sharing a hotel room with your older brother. 

it started in a hallway – and ended in one. you’d gotten kicked out. nico is a good brother, a great one even, but not even he is immune to the young adult lust that seems to plague everyone the moment they step foot in their twenties. you were thankful he had the decency to shove you out of the hotel room as he and the blonde he’d met at some club stumbled in. the sock was on the door and you knew the rules. it was late, everyone was drunk and you were homeless. 

this isn’t your first time and so you sat down on the hallway and laid your head on your knees, hoping you’ve had enough beer to put your right to sleep. unfortunately for you, you had not. you played your music player, as loud as you dared, to drown out the sound of your brother behind the closed door. gross, but so fucking familiar. you could utter one word to your parents and this entire thing would stop but you and nico have always covered up for each other when it matters. and besides, you're sure if your mother knew, not only would she forbid you to join your brother with this travels, you wouldn’t put it past her to completely stop him from racing if these were what he’s up to. 

“hey,” you looked up at the voice wishing your brother had at least thrown you out with your earphones. lewis was all lanky frame and a bare torso. 

“sorry,” you say, the german accent ebbing away at the end of your words as you tone down your music player. “was the music too loud?” 

he smiled, effortlessly and as though you’ve been best friends for years. “nah. i heard you got the boot. figured you could use a refuge.”

you’d smiled brilliantly at him. a silly crush had formed the first time you met him that first testing in barcelona. you’d been envious of his raw talent, first time in an f1 car and yet somehow already exponentially better than his peers. at the start, he’d been racing for mclaren but most teams booked the same hotels and sometimes, they ended up on the same floor. 

his hotel room is much like the one you shared with your brother but only containing one bed contrary to two. that night, you’d gotten in his good graces, sharing jokes and laughs and maybe you’d gotten into his good books too. and at one point, you thought of his heart. 

with you and lewis, it was an auspicious start and you should have known with a beginning like that, the end was inevitable. something started that night in that hallway. for you, that’s where it all began. you’ve given lewis years of your life – always meeting him in the hallway, always sneaking into his sheets and always trying to work it out. it ended in a hallway too – he’d left you and you stood there hoping you could work it out for too long, years maybe. but then, you learned to walk away and you got better. 

seeing him here tonight, another sparse but posh place felt like you’d walked into a time machine – like you’d just left his bedroom. his hair is long, braids tied back in a ponytail like the night he’d left you. you thought you’d left that hallway years ago but you now realized you were still there, waiting and waiting and waiting for him to come back. 

you watched him, his back to you but you could tell by the loop of his stride and the set of his shoulders that it was him. he’s yet to see you. if he had, he must have been disinterested. apathy is the worst. you hated it more than hate. but that doesn’t feel quite right. lewis has never shown disinterest in you. even back before you’d wind up in his hotel room, he was polite but never uninterested. 

that night, he’d set you up with a controller and beer. you’d played some game you can’t quiet remember until ridiculously late. it wasn’t until you’d beaten him for the fourteenth time that he began complaining. 

“you’re really good,” he finally admits defeat. 

you shrugged. “ yeah. why aren’t you better?” 

“i sleep a lot.”

“everywhere?” you asked, selecting another round.

he nodded and you started playing again. “pretty much anywhere i can. the schedule is crazy, i’m always on planes and i hate sleeping there so i sleep pretty much wherever i can–”

“why aren’t you sleeping now?” you cut off, a childish habit you’ve been trying to outgrow. 

“it’s ironic,” he says with a laugh. “i can’t sleep after the race. i’m all wound up and tired the next day but then we’re on a plane before i can blink so i sleep where i can.”

“so you miss out on video games,” you finish for him.

he gives you a dimpled smile and suddenly you felt so happy he’d opened his door for you.

it wasn’t until you caught him yawning for the sixth time that you called him out for it. “tired? ready for bed?”

he looked sheepish. “yeah, should probably sleep. sorry.” 

“no,” you got up and picked up your trash of beer cans. “i’ll go. just let me see if my damn brother is done with it.”

you’d poked your head out the hallway and immediately heard the sounds you absolutely hated coming from behind the door of your shared hotel room when you pulled you back. 

“no. you can stay here. i just meant i needed to lay down.”

you nodded. you aren’t too proud for the couch and you would have taken the carpeted floor over the dirty hallway. “i’ll stay on the couch. the floor out there must have a thousand germs living in it. maybe even more than germs. imagine where the shoes passing by it daily have been at. i’d probably get a rash if i slept there. i’m prone to getting rashes.”

stop talking. you needed to stop fucking talking. to your benefit, he looked more than amused by your rambling. 

“no,” he says, sounding sheepish again. “this isn’t me flirting with you, k?” 

he paused for your reaction but your three am, beer infested brain is sluggish and so you just stared until he continued. 

“i figured you could sleep with me, just to sleep. i like a body next to me…” he trailed off and looked down at his feet. the toe of his right sock had a hole near his big toe and you could see why – his nail needed a clip. then you chastised yourself for having noticed such an insignificant detail as he continued. “that is if you’re comfortable with it, of course.” 

before you could think it through, you nod. “you seem tired. you should head to bed.”

he nods too. “i like being around people, just gets tiring to be on all the time.”

“you can turn off with me.” you meant it.

“i know,” he said it with the confidence of someone you’ve known your entire life. “i can tell. i think i can trust you – won’t need to confiscate your phone.”

you laughed. “well good luck there, love. never relinquishing my phone. only thing i have to reassure my parents that me and my stupid brother are still alive.”

he laughed then yawned.

“bed?” you suggest and he nods in confirmation, walking towards the bed and pulling you behind him.

“you can have a shirt if you want.”

“no, i can sleep in this,” you say as you sat down on the right side of the bed, pushing off your shoes and neatly tucking your socks in them.

“not in jeans,” he shook his head. “that’s so uncomfortable. i’m not sleeping with my trousers.” 

“feel free,” you say. “your bed and all.” 

“well i don’t want your jeans rubbing all over my legs.” 

you relent, changing out of your jeans and into his shirt that reached your mid thigh before you slipped back under the covers and shut the light. and that was how you came to sleep next to lewis hamilton for years of your life. 

and so it goes. lewis’ room became your escape. at first, it was only nights when nico would be accompanied by a girl or when you’d be unceremoniously shoved out of your room and into the hallway. whenever your brother pulled that move, the door somewhere in the floor would open, lewis’ head poking out with a knowing smile as though the two of you shared inside jokes the world didn’t know about.

at some point, you’d wondered if he’d been waiting for you as you wouldn’t even have to knock before his door would be open. most nights, you’d flop on the couch, turn on the television or some game you’d beat him at. 

eventually though, his room would open for you even on nights where you hadn’t been kicked out. he’d be waiting for you in the hallway as though he knew you’d always come. you did, of course, meet him night after night. perhaps your brother wondered where you were going or perhaps he didn’t care enough. either way, you’d disappear each night and come back the next morning. 

“what do you want from room service?’ the phone was pressed to his ear, and really, with every hotel you vacate, each menu pretty much holds the same. 

“uhh, maybe some pizza?” you looked up at him, surprised he wasn’t waiting for you to make eye contact. lewis, as you’d unfortunately learned, is pretty big on eye contact and physical touch. you’d memorized the dark brown in his pupils and the creases under his eyes. instead though, his eyes were glued to your bare legs. you’d worn your sleeping shorts with your baggy shirt, comfortable enough in his presence you didn’t feel the need to dress up. 

when he realized you’d caught him staring, he jerked up his eyes to meet yours, embarrassment coating his face as he gave you a small, apologetic smile, eyes shining that you were more than willing to overlook his wandering eyes. though you feel the path that his gaze had left over your legs, warm but somehow cold at the same time. 

“i’m sorry, what?” lewis suddenly said into the phone, turning away from the big distraction you had been, leaving you completely breathless as you pulled the blanket over you in an attempt to hide the goosebumps that had risen from your interaction. 

you’d been sharing a bed every night since you began coming over to his room more frequently. the bed sharing was completely platonic, of course. it was more that lewis is too much of a gentleman to let you sleep on the couch. the bed is more often than not, king sized and so it isn’t completely unlikely for the two of you to wake up on opposite ends of the mattress. 

yet somehow, something shifted that night. perhaps it was his wandering gaze realizing that you are, in fact, a woman but that night, you had woken up with his octopus limbs wrapped around you, completely burrowed to your side as his breath fanned the delicate skin of your neck. he held onto you tightly, both legs and arms tangled with yours and his bare chest is hard against your back, your hair all over his face. 

you stayed there longer than you knew, feeling the heat even with your shirts separating your skins. you feel the rise and fall of his chest, arms only tightening around you whenever you make any small movement. you can hear the softest snore escaping him as his breath tickles your skin. 

and for the first time, you imagine what it would be like to wake up to this everyday – to have his wandering eyes on your body without the apologetic smile that follows, to have his calloused hands on your skin with no boundaries or rules to follow, to have him hold you and touch you in places you’ve never been touched before. 

and then he shifted and his eyes were fluttering open and lewis moved away from you, robbing you of the warmth you’d been cocooned in all night. he knew, of course. you know he knew because he’d refused to meet your eyes that morning. instead, you went back to your hotel room reeking of his cologne sticking to your skin.

and maybe if either of you had said anything that day about what was already brewing between you, you would’ve been saved from a thousand hurts. 

even years after your meetings in the hallways, even back home, you wondered what it would be like to wake up besides lewis again. you wondered if he’d woken up holding another girl the same way he held you. it had been years after your fateful goodbye that you decided you had to make a conscious effort to stop, erasing your consideration of him from your day to day life. you had to teach yourself to seek your own interest and pleasure. 

the yearning for him is what you remember the most. it was your constant companion. your shadow was long and dwarfed you when you slept in his arms but didn’t have a room in his heart. it cast itself like it was noon when you were sure of your place in his life only to grow long in absence. when you were apart, your need for him was huge, overshadowing you. you were no longer a person with likes and dislikes and a personality. for years of your life, you’d lived for lewis. 

on your final separation, you’d realized that the shadow had become greater than yourself, so large that there was nothing left of you. 

though until now, you wonder if you had made such a big impression on him that he had on you. you suspected you were more like an amenity provided by whichever hotel you both found yourselves tangled in. 

you were being unkind to yourself. he would be disappointed. you wish you didn’t care.

you’re still watching the back of his head as he makes his way away from you and into the elevator, to the next place without you. he’s surrounded by people and you can hear his voice, sending shivers throughout your whole body. you know the tone well. he’s teasing the shorter man next to him and though you can’t hear the words, you know that the guy’s tone is low and full of affection. the short man wraps an arm around the woman amongst their group and you wonder if his affection is towards her or lewis. 

probably lewis. he’s always provoked that response in strangers. ever the most charming and most polite. 

his finger extends to press the buttons on the elevator and you’re distracted by them, still frozen in place since the last five minutes. you’ve watched the skinny digits grip a steering wheel and pluck at your nipples and your body twinges at the memory. however, your attention strays from his knuckles as your eye catches the cluster of silver near the top of his palm. 

and your breath hitches, he couldn’t possibly still be wearing that ring. when his hand pulls back, the light catches the metal circle and you can almost read the words engraved on the metal band. you know what it says, your wish for him as he was surrounded by all the chaos. it was what you’d hoped you gave him in each of the rooms you shared. 

a moment of peace.

his head rises up and the mirror next to the elevator doors catches his attention. your focus shifts to where he’s looking. 

he’s looking at you. 

taglist: @ricsaigaslec @dragon-of-winterfell @coffeehurricanes @rdtbattinson @privcherry7 @miniminescapist @sebsdaniel @strelcka @writing-about-current-obsessions @amsofftrack @lostinketterdam @bisexual-desi @cialovessirlewis @multilovebot @lovelynikol16 @troybolton-14 @ohthemissery @dr3lover @myescapefromthislife @sunf1owerrq @the6ccnsp6cyy @t-nd-rfoot @navixfr

[teatreeoilll]

Pot Luck (Toji Fushiguro X Reader)

˚• . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • .

w/c - 0.6k content warnings - MDNI (for language and mentions of drugs and alcohol). f!reader. A Toji drabble of what I feel the average Toji interaction is like.

˚• . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • .

2006

“Blow on it,” the traffic officer holds a breathalyzer an inch from Toji’s face. Your mouth grows dry as you smell the painstakingly obvious tang of Sake circling the car's interior.

"I'll just come out and say it, officer," he hums, flicking his cigarette butt onto the road, "You're not my type." You jab your elbow into his side, hoping that inflicting some pain might instill a bit of sound judgment into him.

"Blow on it son, I don't have all night." The cop taps his leg on the concrete, shoving the breathalyzer further under Toji's self-satisfied smirk.

As he continues to hold the policemen's gaze, the dark haired man puckers his lips and exhales into the device, which in turn promptly squeaks and buzzes.

"Why don't you get out of the car, boy?"

-

Toji drives like a maniac; one of his hands barely clinging to the steering wheel while the other clutches a lit cigarette that suffocates the car with a cloud of smoke. He throws quick glances at the rearview mirror, and each time he does so the car swerves, causing the white markings separating the dark highway ahead to seem like mere suggestions.

"I'm gonna need you to hold on to this for me," he leans close to you, his Sake reeking breath caressing the side of your face. His foot's still pushing the gas pedal as he shoves a large hand up your bra, sticking a tiny crumpled bag of white powder to the padding inside.

"Hey - " you struggle to push his drunken hand aside, an aggressive red hue growing on your face at the warmth of his hand pressing up against your breast, "Focus on the road, asshole."

Red and blue lights emerge on the road behind you, accompanied by ear-splitting sirens and a streak of cusses coming from the driver's seat. "Just for a minute, yeah baby?" He jerks the wheel, causing the car to wobble as it grazes the shoulders, "We'll lose him on the next exit."

-

This is a collect call from Akasaka Police Station; if you would like to accept the call, please say yes. If you would like to -

"Fucking asshole," you breathe.

The system did not recognize your decision; if you would like to accept the call, please say -

"Yes." You huff into the phone as the line plays its connecting melody.

The moment you catch a faint sound of a breath on the other end, the facade of cool composure you've been clinging to shatters; "I'm not bailing you out again, Fushiguro. You can rot in there for all I care."

"Don't worry about that baby; Shiu's got it covered."

A scolding tone creeps into your voice, "You better pay him back this time."

Toji ignores your reproach, letting the words linger before continuing, "Anyway, they revoked my license, so why don't you pick me up and we can - "

"You had a license?"

"Funny, why don't you tell me s'more jokes when you get here, huh?"

"Can't Shiu take you? Or better yet, leave you there?"

"He'll probably leave before he sees me bouncing out of the cell, so fat chance of that happening. You're the only one left, baby."

You weren't sure what kind of supernatural force was steering the wheel while you drove in a daze through the busy streets toward the police station, leaving your mind consumed with organizing the accusations you were itching to hurl at him.

The car dips lightly under his weight as he thumps into the passenger seat, "D'you still have that bag I gave you?"

"Hey to you too, asshole." You sigh, "And no, I didn't keep the cocaine you shoved up my bra."

"Ah, never mind," he lifted an arm to swipe the hair sticking to his forehead, "At least I got to cop a feel."

[jpeg-anachronism]

Alrighty, DMC fans, I've figured it out.

Spoilers for those who haven't played DMC 5 yet.

So, we all know that Vergil is Nero's dad. This fact has plagued the DMC fans for years due to it being a loose end that's never tied up.

Who's Nero's mother and Vergil's lover? Unclear. When did this happen? Who knows. How did Vergil fall for someone in what's seemingly a certified out of character moment? Fuck off.

Except here's the thing. The fandom did not fuck off. Forsooth, they fucked on to this thing in such a quick display of background character shipping it would make the Loud House fandom blush.

Side tangent but what the fuck is this I went to look up this one ship from a children's show and I kid you not this is the first thing that came up what the fuck.

Look, bullying is bad. But what if w-

The DMC fans took this one random background lady who stops and looks at Vergil for about three seconds in the opening cutscene of his route and went crazy with it in what was probably the fandom's shining moment.

Suddenly it was all clear. This random ass woman was Vergil's lover, Nero's mom, and the meaning behind the lyric "temptation's pulling me" in one giant package.

And I won't lie to y'all I'm down with that.

Here's the thing, though. We never see her face, hear her name, or really know anything about her besides the fact that she's (hypothetically) Nero's mom. She's the blandest character in the game franchise since we don't know anything aside from her role in canon.

And that's when it hit me.

Capcom did this on purpose.

Let me repeat.

Capcom did this on purpose.

Think about it. At this point, the third game had already come out and fans were practically drooling over Vergil. The fifth game wouldn't be released for a while, so we didn't have peak Vergil madness in the fandom yet but the fan's feelings were clear.

This man was fucking SEXY WITH A CAPITAL C.

The ladies wanted piece of him, and Capcom knew it. Hell, they still know it. Look at the marketing. The official marketing.

Look me in my eyes and tell me that they don't know what this man does to women.

But here's the issue. They needed him to be Nero's father.

When you create a man as perfect as Vergil, you run into a bit of a snag when picking a woman to be his canon lover. Every woman in the stratosphere is going to be tearing their hair out and shaking their fists to the heavens realizing they're not exactly like the woman he's hooked up with.

Sure, some female fans would just be happy to watch Vergil being in love, but deep down every one of them would ask the same question.

"Why couldn't Vergil have fucked me?"

Capcom thrived on Vergil simps. You remove their imaginary chances with an Imaginary character, and things get sticky.

They don't pick a lover for Vergil, the lore falls apart. They do pick a lover for Vergil, the fans fall apart. There was no way to win unless...

Unless they made the fans his lover.

Suddenly, the unpaid intern jumps up in his seat, tasting the promotion as he shouts out "we don't give her a face!"

Silence. A cough can be heard. A few of the people at the meeting start sweating.

"Don't give her a face?" One finally speaks up.

"Right!" The intern yells "No face! No voice! No personality!"

And suddenly the rest of the meeting room understands as well.

See that's the thing. The Fortuna lady is hooded on purpose. She's silent on purpose. She's given no personality on purpose.

Think about her design. We barely see any of her face except a mouth. Her weight is the most average weight one could program, and if it comes off as thinner than the player, they could easily say she's wearing a girdle or something similar under her dress. Her bust size is average, her height is average. Everything about her is painstakingly average and THAT WAS THE POINT.

LADY FORTUNA IS US AND WE ARE LADY FORTUNA. SHE'S A SELF INSERT DESIGNED BY CAPCOM SO WE COULD IMAGINE THAT WE WERE THE ONES WHO FUCKED VERGIL. IT WAS ALL PLANNED FROM THE START AND IT FUCKING WORKED. THE SICK SON OF A BITCHES DID IT.

"But Jpeg, they did give her a face! See?"

I sigh and pat your head.

"No, my sweet. They made this for the other fans. The ones who for whatever reason weren't attracted to Vergil. Of course they would want some form of "closure" as to what she looked like. To them her face was just another mystery to be solved. Besides, why not put this in the actual game? Why leave it as a single, oddly rendered model, banished to the depths of t-posing hell?"

Because it's not canon. That's the answer. The lady from Fortuna's canon face is our face.

"But Jpeg," fucking Oliver Twist pipes up "She's white. What about all the women of color who simp for Vergil? Wouldn't her skin color defeat the purpose?"

First of all, this is something that's hard to skirt around in the first place. No matter how much you cover up a character, you're going to need to show certain details. Look at any dating simulator protagonist.

They can go for basic designs by making them white and brunette, two of the most common genetics, to try to maintain the self insert illusion, but the sad thing is that at the end of the day, it's just a drawing of a man that is not the player.

Except DMC gets around this because fuck those dating sims. Those are for pussies and children of divorce. Devil May Cry treats you like a 100 IQ individual as it makes it clear that if you want it to be so, the Fortuna woman can just be some random ass lady who thought Vergil's cloak looked sick.

Vergil's real lover could be a whole different lady from Fortuna. One that's any race you wish it to be. Whichever race you are, she is too.

Hell, why stop with Fortuna? Who said you have to be a nun in this universe?! By our and Capcom's, logic, you could be whoever the fuck you wanted! It doesn't matter, so long as Vergil ended up smooshing the whooshing with you! Make it whatever pops into your mind! Are you a pizza delivery girl? Another Devil Hunter? A subscriber to Vergil's Onlyfans? Who knows? Oh, wait! You do!

Lady Fortuna is not a single character, nor does she represent such.

Lady Fortuna represents us, and the power of loving a fictional man beyond rational mind.

Lady Fortuna is us.

We are Lady Fortuna.

Or maybe she's some reused asset idk man it's whatever you guys think.

[happyk44]

Thinking abt Hazel who usually gets Macaria to do her hair since they have similiar hair types (I perceive Macaria to appear black in her day-to-day, like Thanatos). Or sometimes Zagreus, who loved to play with his sisters' hair as a kid and is still willing to sit down for a few hours to do painstakingly complex braids.

But they're both gone, doing their own thing, when Hazel comes down and she sighs because this is the only free moment she has and sure she could get it done at Camp Jupiter or New Rome but she liked the family aspect.

Also it's free when her siblings do her hair. And free is always convenient.

She considers Nico, who's not that bad at it, he just takes way longer than everyone else and his plaits aren't as tight as they could be, when Pluto walks by. He prompts her and she tells him and blinks confused when a second pips by and she's suddenly seated on a plush cushion, products and brushes and combs around her. Her father is seated behind her, his long long legs stretched out.

It's sort of annoying how tall he is. He's behind her and yet his feet pass hers.

Why the hell is she and Nico so short? Even Macaria, born by Hades' sole hand from the dirt of the underworld and dessicated souls, defaults to just below average.

His fingers are cool against her nap as he separates her evenly. "What were you looking for?"

"Uh-" A book appears on her lap. She flips it open. Dozens of hair styles on every page, every hair type accommodated, every style listed. Even the ones far out of date. The models differ - in age, in race, in gender, in time period.

They feel familiar, familial. She wonders what it would take for her to join this family photo album. If she'll be present by mere existence, or if she needs to display a style never seen before for it to count.

"Uh, I usually just get..." She pauses on a photo. The girl is smiling wide with jewels adorning each plait. Even in the turnarounds, when her face is no longer visible, she seems happy. "This one is nice."

Pluto's chin scoots across the top of her head as he looks down. "Fulani with ornamental accents," he muses. He waves his hand as a bowl of beads appears between their legs. Different colours, different gems. "Pick. I'll let you know when I get there."

Hazel picks up the bowl. The jewels glitter. "Did you do all of these?"

"Most of them," he says.

She pulls out a thick golden bead. "Do you like doing hair?"

It seems a stupid question when it hits the hair and she curses her brain for not catching her tongue. But he answers, amused, "Sometimes. When you're patient. Nico never was, but fortunately Hades is a little more relaxed than I am."

She thinks of Nico, young, and tucked into their father's lap, wet locks being combed and brushed back gently as they dry. She thinks of him squirming, as kids do, bored of sitting still while his hair is trimmed. Or curled. Or whatever he had going on. For all she knows, he was being braided too, with slick smooth plaits. Over and under, over and under. Thin fingers and a idle smile listening to the chatter of a toddler.

"I didn't have much help when she was born," he continues. "And Macaria liked to play rough with the dogs and chickens and Furies." He clips part of her hair to the side and hums softly. "And their claws are not quite suited to crafting ponytails or braids from thick curly hair."

Hazel sets a beautiful onyx bead with her slowly forming pile. There's a thin golden imprint of a skull on it. The skin of it is smooth. Even the grooves are so subtle she can't feel them with her fingertip, only sensing it from the catch of her nail.

"And you just... carried on with it?" She pauses, shifting her head with gentle guide of his hands. "Even when they had other people without claws to help?"

"Of course." The comb is gentle as he passes it through. Slow and steady. Like Macaria and Zagreus, but softer somehow. "I'm your father. Why wouldn't I keep doing your hair?"

[gethoce]

The third Meta Knight reference I did in one year somehow. It's some sort of bad habit by now!

Anyway, random headcanons about the guy below.

Not only is he shorter than the average Dark Matterborn, since he refused to use Dark Magic for most of his life, it also took him unusually long to grow horns for the same reason.

Having been raised by a Halcandran he knows a lot more about this rare species than most. Upon meeting Magolor he occasionally would make casual comments using his unique knowledge which originally caused the mage to be very suspicious of him.

His secretive nature is at least partially something he picked up from his adoptive father, who created the Master Crown and didn't even drop a single hint about his past until after the events of RTDL, when Meta Knight told him about the crown.

The Galaxia has always been in his possession, as far as he can tell, yet his father didn't allow him to wield her properly until he was certain that his swordsman skills were high enough as to not risk another disaster related to the blade.

He gets along with Marx surprisingly well and the two appear to have a lot of mutual respect for one another. The jester will still dunk on the knight whenever an opportunity reveals itself, yet Meta Knight doesn't turn hostile whenever this happens since they are friends.

The events of Revenge of Meta Knight were partially triggered by Marx asking Meta Knight for help, after the King of Dreamland had repeatedly failed to keep Popstar safe.

It took Meta Knight a while to warm up to Dedede. He didn't take him seriously until he realised that they have a lot in common. For instance they both didn't know where they originally came from and were raised by adoptive parents.

Meta Knight has a brotherly relationship to Kirby more than a fatherly one, though doesn't really put labels on their relationship at all. If asked he'd call them a close friend.

He first saw the Dimensional Mirror when his father acquired it in exchange for a sword from the mirror's deceased creator's brother-in-law. It was broken and painstakingly repaired by him and Meta Knight soon after got to meet his reflection for the first time. They were close friends until the events of KATAM.

Meta Knight was asked to join the GSA at one point but refused not wishing to serve under anyone but himself.

Galaxia often speaks to him and offers him advice and comfort, yet is very secretive about their shared past which greatly frustrates him.

He idolised Galacta Knight for the longest time, much to the frustration of his father. Upon meeting Galacta Knight for the first time and witnessing his sealing he attempted to break him free, yet failed. He spent a long time trying to find out how to undo the seal.

It was Marx who told him how to summon the Clockwork Star Galactic Nova and he and Magolor joined him on his quest to do so.

His original name was Metachiroptera, shortened to Chiro. He'll turn hostile upon being called by that name.

He knew Captain Vul since he was a child. The then pirate attempted to steal the Galaxia and failed miserably. They've been friends ever since.

He's terrible at piloting space ships and most other vehicles and overall doesn't have a vast knowledge of technology. He got his crew for that. Instead he knows quite a lot about magic. The opposite applies to King Dedede, who knows little of magic but a lot about creating and piloting machines.

He knew Daroach since before he made a name for himself as Meta Knight.

His primary ability is his weapon ability, sword, yet he as an adult he began to learn the magical abilities ESP and Tornado.

His Dimensional Cape was created and enchanted by his father when his wings began to grow in.

Meta Knight was raised on a planet called Silverstar, which is known for its thick fog.

[studiofelix]

Little Guys that Look Like Me: Loving Myself by Proxy

There are few scenarios where a twenty-something with low self esteem would create something physical in their own image. At 20, I would have sooner eaten bird seed than intentionally made something to look like me. At 21, I found myself doing so, lovingly and painstakingly. It changed me.

It was a first-time-meeting-you-in-real-life present. I crocheted a small doll, no larger than four of five inches in height. I switched colors as I crocheted him, navy for the hair, peach for the skin, pink for the shirt, teal for the pants. I sewed a few flat pieces to his head to look like the fringe I had at the time and lovingly stitched “I <3 U” onto his chest.

It felt strange, blasphemous almost. In the same way young Catholics are told not to take the Lord’s name in vain, I hadn’t dared to create an honest and sincere depiction of myself since the 9th grade. And even then, the portraits that I had drawn at that point had a critical and angsty air to them, but in all fairness, can you really expect anything different from a fourteen year old?

My limited and self-deprecating journey in self portraiture had met its match: creating a simple, happy mini-me for someone I loved, a lesson in carefully crafted self image.

Anthropomorphism: assigning human emotions and traits to inanimate objects. This was a tendency I had growing up, have now, and will have for the rest of my life. It is carefully woven into my experience of growing up as a late-diagnosed autistic, my experience of navigating the world in a limbo state of partial understanding and uncertainty. The dolls, stuffed animals, virtual pets; they are often cast aside as unimportant and unworthy once a child has outgrown them. This makes perfect sense to the average adult. They are not human, not even animals. Their insides are plastic and polyfill and tiny, unsophisticated PCB; they do not bleed and die as we do.

But imagine being human and feeling those things so deeply and fundamentally without knowing why. Your peers are better than you; they make friends easily; they do not struggle to find understanding in each other. You, on the other hand, have had trouble—have been the trouble—in some capacity in nearly every interpersonal relationship you’ve had. This story is not new to you, reader—whether you’re the protagonist, villain, love interest, bystander—you just didn't know that you've been playing a part. I see these objects as extensions of my experience; I can’t stifle the thought of their plight.

I continued crocheting my mini-me, Pocket BF, as I called him. Suddenly he had a face, and this was what gave him feelings. I looked at him. I pet the side of his face as I sewed his hair into his scalp. “Almost done,” I said to comfort him. A mirror image of myself, but one that I now held inexplicable affection for instead of unremarkable, everyday disdain. I didn’t want him to hurt. I wanted him to be happy. He didn’t deserve to feel sad.

Despite this seed of self-love (if you can call it that), there was a disconnect. This love I had for this little guy that looked like me, confusing and paradigm-shifting as it was, did not transfer to my feelings toward myself yet. And as I wrapped Pocket BF in tissue paper, placed him in a box, told him he’d be out soon, and wrapped my gift to my soon(ish)-to-be ex-fiance, the spark of this near revelation would be buried for a while.

Obviously it didn’t work out. When you’ve been engaged for two years with no plans to get married or move in together or even to the same state, the writing is on the wall in a dull and uninspiring script, and it’s been there so long that the paint is starting to chip. Although I must confess, I do partially blame myself; there is a very specific intersection of youth, stupidity, charmingly trite dedication, and earth-shattering codependency that will possess you to propose to your long distance boyfriend of one year. He will dump you over text, the day before valentines day, almost exactly two years later, so don't make my mistake. You've been warned.

The absolute beacon of wisdom and mental fortitude I was (or wasn’t) at 21, aside, the unceremonious and, dare I say, absolutely out-of-pocket-cruel discarding of our relationship that he doled out a few years later devastated me. He’s not a bad person; I hope he finds happiness (and therapy. My God, I hope he gets therapy); I wish him well; etcetera. I coped the best I could, ruminated on everything I could have possibly said or done wrong, cried and cried and cried, standard breakup stuff.

One of the things that helped to carry me, though, was my special interest in a certain video game pairing. They outlived our entire relationship; they were there with me when it began, and they were still there as the rubbled ruin of it began to grow flowers through the cracked stone. I tend to pick a character that I see myself in and project onto them. My art of this character began as pretty on-model; he was very recognizable as his canon self with the only main differences being a matter of style, a few headcanons here and there.

This was at a time in my life where I had started to gain weight (think the freshman fifteen if it was a year later and also fifty pounds instead). Looking back on it now, this was only the natural course my body chose to take. The thing that no one tells you about testosterone therapy is that it quite literally turns you into a carbon copy of your father. My young, twink body softened into a round ball of a belly. My hairline began to recede. What I believed was the result of these objectively neutral changes was actually the result of deeply rooted, internalized fatphobia and a general fear of aging.

I so badly wished to be skinny again. I wished to look like my favorite character again. I wanted it so viscerally that I shuffled through diet attempts and would-be exercise programs in a desperate Hail Mary for a fleeting look akin to a starving Victorian boy.

In one of my nearly daily bouts of self-pity, I said out loud that I wished I could draw Felix, this character I loved and saw as myself, as fat. I had started drawing his partner (well, the character who should have been his partner) as fat, and I was able to get away with it without much pushback from the fandom. And then I had the cartoonishly obvious realization that actually, I could draw whatever the hell I want literally for the rest of my life.

This, honest to God, changed my life. No longer was I drawing this character as the unattainably skinny little twink I wished to be. I drew him to look like me. I gave him rolls and a stomach that protruded out past his waistline. Later on, I’d start drawing him with freckles and a receding hairline as well, hair on his shoulders, round cheeks.

I drew him loved. I drew him happy. I drew him confident in his body and in the space he took up. Broadly speaking, it wasn’t received well. I lost most of my engagement and a lot of my Twitter audience. A hoard of people whose fatphobia was conditional but still there; you could make some characters fat without a problem, but touch the designated fandom twink, and you might as well have deleted your account.

What came from this petty loss, though, were a select few who loved my Felix. A handful of people who felt seen by my art, seen by the care with which I drew these characters, with the realism of fat bodies drawn lovingly—not realism in the sense of style but realism in the sense of believability. I drew (and still draw) them so they feel real. I draw them in a way that I hope makes people like me feel at home.

This healed my self-image by leaps and bounds. Despite the discretely sour reaction I got from most of Twitter, I did find brief and minor Tiktok fame from making tutorials about how to draw fat people. When I draw Felix and Sylvain, I treat them, and ultimately myself, with the love and care deserved. He is another little guy that looks like me. And I loved him dearly. I still do.

My self esteem still needed work, though.

Six months ago, I picked Tomodachi Life for the 3DS back up. I got the game when I was a teenager and played it religiously for a few weeks before losing interest and cycling on to my next video game fixation. I would pick it back up a few more times sporadically over the years—this is the nature of how I play video games. In Tomodachi Life, you manage an island of Miis (Nintendo’s primitive customizable characters that date back to the Wii). You feed them, interact with them, buy them clothes and apartments, and watch their relationships form and change and break. The game starts with the player creating a character that looks like themself—or, how the game puts it, their look-alike.

My look-alike from this play through naturally looked drastically different from my previous play throughs. I made him look like a cute, low-poly version of myself. I made his voice sound as similar to mine as it could within the bounds of 2013 video game technology. I gave him a pink, sparkly apartment theme, dresses, shirts, accessories, his favorite foods, etcetera. I pet him on the head and listened to what he had to say. Just like Pocket BF, just like Felix, I felt a massive amount of love and affection towards him, different than before but still so much the same. This reflection of me could talk; he could walk around his little room. He got married to Sylvain. He had kids with him. He could tell me he was glad we met.

And he could tell me he missed me. By chance, I neglected to check on him for a few days while solving problems for the other Miis. When I tapped on his room, he came towards the screen and said something like, “My look-alike! I haven’t seen you all week! How have you been?”

A feeling of guilt washed over me. How could I have abandoned this little guy? This little guy that looked like me? Had I hurt his feelings? Had I made him sad? He seemed alright. He walked around his room while swinging his arms back and forth. And I soon realized, how could I feel such empathy and kindness towards him, but not feel any of that toward myself? Here it was, my empathy for inanimate objects, friendly pixels, and downright apparitions, in a violent coup against my own self hatred. I am not pixels on a screen or a handmade plush or my idea for what a video game character should have been. I am a living, breathing creature who bleeds when I’m cut. I am a person who has feelings, a person who does not deserve the pain I’ve caused myself by my own hand. I deserve the love and care that I show these self portraits, these vignettes of my simplest self. The rabid beast of my most complex self deserves it as well.

How many times have I looked at myself in the mirror and picked at my skin, picked at my image, picked at my actions, my voice, who I am, the very fabric of my fragile little existence? Too many, and yeah, I'll probably do it again. But maybe instead someday I'll greet myself with a smile, with a "My look-alike! I haven't seen you all day!" With a gentle touch, one reserved for a handmade gift. And maybe this one won't get put in a closet or given to Goodwill, or whatever ex-fiances do with iconography of their past. Little guys that look like me are my past. They are my present. And, although the battle is only halfway fought, they taught me how to love myself by proxy.

[indigosabyss]

Dr Stone Characters Reincarnating into Naruto: Nanami Sai Edition

For all intents and purposes, Sai was one of the Academy civilian students that would fly under the radar. Reasonably good at academics, well above average at thrown weapons, average or below at everything else. Probably would be in the genin corps. Or a career chunin if he pushed it.

Until the codes were found.

It was one of the Academy teachers who had brought attention to it, after he found scraps of what he expected to be an encoded note to a classmate.

A long series of letters and numbers, startlingly good for his age. As in, no one was able to decode it.

At first, it started with the Intelligence Division considering extending an apprenticeship to the boy. But concerns quickly rose as inspection of the boy's belongings found thick volumes filled with the exact same code.

No plaintext, no references, no doodles that an ordinary child would be drawn to do. No gradual evolution of the code being built up, either. As if it had sprout up fully formed, yet had completely avoided being picked up by the Konoha Intelligence Division.

After some frantic deliberation, the boy was dragged to T&I for questioning.

The second they put the incriminating books in front of him, he started bawling.

"I JUST WANTED TO PLAY MONSTER QUEST."

After some panicked confusion, and a box of tissues (Torture and Interrogation wasn't equipped for crying children) they manage to coax some semblance of a story out of the kid.

"So you've figured out an architecture structure that will revolutionize our computational systems." Ibiki surmised, feeling a little lost, "And... you want to use that to make a 'video game'. Which you have painstakingly been coding for years now."

Sai sniffled and nodded.

"And you didn't think that this would instead be a better way to encrypt and store our information?" Ibiki asked him, feeling a little lost. The possibilities the boy had laid out in front of him were baffling. And he wanted to make games?

Sai looked at him, looking just as lost, "But that's no fun." He pointed out.

Well, at least they knew this really was a kid and not a child sized invader.

(notes under cut)

I think we can do a lot with the utter geniuses in child bodies running about who have absolutely no intention of helping the ninjas without being asked first.

In a full length version of the fic, I would give Sai a different name but to minimize confusion I stuck with this.

If you're familiar with my previous dabbling in dcst x naruto this past month ur prolly asking why I wrote this when I was clearly more favorable to Francois being the one who gets reincarnated. And the answer is. This is happening in the same timeline.

Ofc this ficlet in particular is a bit out there. I just wrote it to highlight the two important traits of Sai in the AU. 1) he still wants to be a programmer. 2) ppl think he's a spy for it.

I've built up lore for this you know. Most pre-petrification characters will be reborn years and years away from each other and there are going to be Reasons for why this is happening (chakra meteor reasons :DDDD) and I have literally so much in store for this AU.

I'll try to get it all out in writing on tumblr but in case i don't you can always ask me to clarify on twitch. Am on hiatus atm but will be back in the second week of June.

[averysmolbear]

This is all just self ship stuff so it’s okay not to read it. ☺️ It’s just an expanded on version of the not so little family post for my self ship with Reiner.

When we found out that I was pregnant for the first time, Reiner was ecstatic. He had been hoping for it after all but I was nervous as hell. Of course Reiner took it upon himself to buy every parenting and pregnancy book that he could get his hands on, only for him to get frustrated when finding contradicting advice in various books.

“Seriously,” Reiner said as he slammed the book he was reading closed, “why can’t they all just tell you to do the same thing? How am I supposed to know which way is right?”

I look over at him with a small smile, setting aside the yogurt parfait that Reiner had painstakingly made for me earlier. “I think that’s because we’ll figure it out as we go along,” I said with a shrug, reaching out to turn his face toward me.

A slow smile started to tug at the corners of his mouth as he looked at me, nodding. He placed a hand on my stomach, which was still the same soft belly it had been before we found out I was pregnant since I wasn’t showing yet. Reiner took a deep breath before placing a soft kiss on my lips.

“You’re right,” he said, tossing the book aside. “I just hoped to have a hang of it before the little nugget got here.”

“That what we’re calling him or her?”

Reiner grinned as he shifted to lay down on the couch so he could rest his head in my lap. He was a bit cramped on the couch but he never asked me to move, just curling his long legs up a little more as he looked up at me. “Why not? We should call the baby something other than ‘it’, right?”

I reached for my snack again to finish it off but between bites, I played a little with Reiner’s hair. “Nugget it is.”

It wasn’t long before he started panicking though because the closer we got to the baby being born, the more he wondered if he was cut out to be a dad. His own father hadn’t been a part of his life after all and Reiner began to wonder if he would mess up the child’s life by not being a good enough father.

He had long talks with my dad and his uncle and other people to get a better sense of what he was getting himself into but he never once regretted his decision to start a family with me. In fact Reiner was so confident that I could pick up the slack in the areas where he might be lacking. I reminded him that he did a wonderful job of being a big brother figure to his cousin, Gabi, and that while there wasn’t a huge age difference between him and Eren or Armin, he had been a good big brother figure to them too. The only difference now was going to be that this was our child but he already had it in him to be a good, strong role model.

When Amelia was born, Reiner cried more than I did. He was so happy but he worried that he would hurt her when he held her. He just kept commenting about how he couldn’t believe how tiny she was (the doctor kept reminding Reiner that Amelia was actually average for a baby) and Reiner couldn’t understand how we had made something so tiny and beautiful, although he would always add that Amelia had to take after me because she was so perfect.

He slept with the baby monitor on his side of the bed and for the first week, Reiner didn’t get much sleep. He wanted me to sleep through the night as much as possible so he tried to catch every little cry Amelia made to make sure she had whatever she needed. He was surprised at how quickly I was able to tell the difference in the way Amelia cried if she needed a diaper change or needed to be fed or just wanted to be held. Reiner soon, however, was able to pick up on the differences too and he was the most attentive but nervous dad.

“She’s tiny,” Eren said, watching as Amelia got some tummy time on a blanket on the floor. “At least she takes after her mom. If she took after you, she’d be one ugly kid.”

���Eren!” I peeked my head in from the kitchen to see Armin sitting on the floor, shaking a rattle at Amelia while Eren watched from the couch. He looked up at me and shrugged.

“He’s right,” Reiner added, moving as soon as he heard Amelia fuss a bit. He scooped her up easily and laid her on the couch. “She gets her looks from you. Actually she gets a lot from you.”

I shook my head to return to making lunch for us. Soon Eren was joining me in the kitchen, gesturing toward the fridge. I frowned slightly, not knowing what he was asking about.

“Reiner said to get a bottle for Amelia,” he said, shrugging. He watched as I grabbed the bottle of pre pumped breast milk, taking it when I handed it to him.

“You two are good parents, you know,” Eren added as he started out of the kitchen. “Just don’t tell Reiner I said that.”

When I found out that I was pregnant again, Reiner and I felt more prepared. And then came the news that I was having twins. They ran in my family but were kind of rare so I hadn’t expected to find out that we would be having twins. Reiner seemed calm until we got home. In fact, he was so concerned that we didn’t tell anyone that it was going to be twins until I was much further along, especially since I ended up on bedrest for the last couple of months. That actually wound up scaring Reiner to the point that he refused to let me hold Amelia at all toward the end of the second pregnancy.

When they were born, we worried a little about being overwhelmed by having 3 in diapers. Luckily Amelia was getting closer to hitting an age where she’d be walking and she was eating mostly solid foods. She was even drinking out of a sippy cup and had started trying to talk and feed herself with finger foods by the time the boys were born. Of course my parents and Reiner’s mom stepped up a lot once Mathias and Milo were born to help out whenever they could but for the most part Reiner and I were able to mostly handle things on our own. It helped that Amelia was so well behaved though.

Reiner and I took turns getting up for the kids whenever one of them fussed at night but Amelia was sleeping through the night by the time her brothers were born so it was mostly changing and feeding the boys.

We were confident parents by the time Isobelle was born. Amelia was potty trained and while the boys weren’t there yet, they were still getting closer to that point by the time we added another baby to the mix. Of course once Mathias and Milo were up and walking, we had to double down on some of the baby proofing of the house. They weren’t just more curious than Amelia had been; they were downright trouble together. In fact they were often sneaking out of their pay pen if someone wasn’t keeping a close enough eye on them. They didn’t misbehave too much but they were a handful and even as they reached toddler age, one would play lookout while the other tried to get something that they were told they couldn’t have.

Luckily for us Amelia was good at helping to keep an eye on her siblings even at the age of five, which was around the time that Everett came along. By this point, all of the other children were potty trained (or close to it with Isobelle still in pull ups) and they were all walking and talking. It was slightly more chaotic, especially once Reiner and I were fully outnumbered by the children but we were so used to having a baby around that it wasn’t difficult for us to keep up with all of them. Plus we had help from family and friends more often than not, with even Eren and Armin or Annie or Porco and Pieck offering to watch the kids if we needed a break.

When I found out I was pregnant one last time, Reiner and I thought we had it all in hand. Of course the last pregnancy was a bit rougher on me. I had the worst morning sickness and the doctor was a little concerned about my blood pressure. Because of this, Reiner doted on me throughout the pregnancy and he made sure that I didn’t try to do too much. By this time though we had 3 in school and only 2 at home still. With the help we got from family and friends, things went as smoothly as we could have hoped for. Theodore was a bit premature (and the smallest of the babies I’d had) but he was a healthy baby.

Reiner did worry a little more about Theodore but like his siblings before him, he progressed through each milestone on time or even early. It helped that Amelia liked to sit and read to her younger siblings once she learned how to read and Theodore had 3 older brothers who always included him in whatever they were playing even if he was still too young or small to be able to play along.

(Also Amelia being called nugget stuck and even as she grew up Reiner called her nugget. Mathias and Milo were our peanuts. Isobelle was our bug. Everett was our bean. Theodore was our jelly bean. And yes, Reiner will still refer to each of them by those nicknames whether they like it or not. And Theodore went from being the smallest to the biggest of the kids, standing at 6’ tall as a teenager and he could pass Reiner’s height by the time he’s done growing.)

[adultswim2021]

Squidbillies #43: "The Fine ‘Ol Solution" | June 1, 2009 - 12:00AM | S04E03

Early rounds up a bunch of day laborers and gives them a job. The job in question is jumping off a cliff, to their death. This is because Early is a genocidal maniac who wants them illegals wiped out because they’re taking our jobs. After cleaning house, he takes what’s rightfully his; the right to loiter in the parking lot, becoming the sole new “little guys who work”. But Early becomes frosty at the prospect of actually doing work, after a disastrous one-day gig painting the inside of Dave Willis’ chimney. 

Early decides to ramp up his war on skilled labor by starting a group called The Fine ‘Ol Solution, which appropriates an actual Nazi flag for it’s logo. Rusty wants to change the name to Jimmy Eat World, which nobody in the episode realizes is already a thing (and neither does the Squidbillies wiki editor, who painstakingly mentions every reference in every episode). They do the joke of hiring the very same day laborers they’re trying to keep out to build said wall, shamelessly plagiarizing Carlos Mencia’s very original joke. They wind up building a wall just around Early’s house and they are sealed inside, doomed to starve. 

This one has a gag involving an elaborate security system that involves gorillas that throw alligators, and sharks that are clearly dying from not being in water. When Early unveils his plans, there are toys scattered throughout, and among them is a doll of Cheyenne Cinnamon, an as-of-yet-released Adult Swim pilot. Also notable: there were two jokes in this that I laughed at! One was a pretty simple one where Early exclaims “America number one!” and he waves a little confederate flag. The other joke I laughed at was when Early asks one of the day laborers what his biggest fear is, so Early can use it to repel him. When he says public speaking, Early puts podiums and teleprompters around his wall. 

This one is most comparable to the Goobacks episode of South Park. I am tempted to watch that episode just to compare the two, but I won’t. This is actually a fairly above average episode of Squidbillies. This episode was apparently picked to represent the show during Adult Swim’s 2017 “History of Adult Swim” event. Is there a better episode of Squidbillies? Honestly, I would rather stop thinking about Squidbillies as soon as possible, so I won't answer that.

[hms-tardimpala]

Favorite characters of 2022

For posterity, here are the characters I (re)discovered in 2022 that really stuck with me. I hope I can do this for several years and see if I can find a trend or if my tastes evolve with time. (This post's purpose is mostly to study myself, ngl)

Homer Jackson - Ripper Street

All the characters in Ripper Street are worthy of this list, but I relate to Jackson particularly. He's a scruffy, alcoholic, genius, messy jack of all trades, a brilliant doctor and a broken human being. And he's bisexual, of course.

I liked him from the first second, but I really fell in love with him when this 19th-century doctor said "Oh by the way, there was semen in these men's rectums, but I didn't think it was important." and "I know big stevedores who would make you feel like a princess, Sergeant."

His story in the show is a beautiful, funny and tragic one I won't forget soon.

Fetch Phillips - The Fetch Phillips Archives

I relate to Fetch so much it's concerning. Guilt is one of the five emotions I have on speed dial, so... But it's also fascinating to see him grow and painstakingly become a better man. I love what Luke Arnold is doing with this character and the series.

I don't need to say much about him here because the Writers of Sunder City discord server is where I discuss him the most, but yeah, he makes the list this year.

Max - Black Sails

She makes me think of Connor Walsh from HTGAWM because he looked out for himself and his loved one above everything else and wasn't above lying and manipulating people to achieve his ends. And the people I watched HTGAWM with disliked him just like they disliked Max when we watched Black Sails. But they forget that, among a group of murderers, Connor was the innocent one (I haven't watched S6 yet, don't spoil). He didn't kill Sam. He didn't crush a district attorney under his car. He didn't have a homosexual man deported back to Pakistan. He was just the mean guy of the group, was used to cover up these murders again and again, and nobody cared when it destroyed him slowly because he was "the mean guy". And I've seen plenty of people treat Max the same way.

She's the kindest, most compassionate character on this show. She values human life and all she wants is safety and happiness for herself and the ones she loves. She is one the best-written female characters I've ever encountered in any type of media.

Long John Silver - Black Sails

I don't have words. I know him intimately. He's a complete mystery to me. He's burned into my mind. I'm not the same after watching this show.

An interesting thing is that I like all John Silvers so far. Tim Curry in the Muppets movie, Treasure Planet John Silver, book John Silver. But to me he will always have Luke Arnold's face, voice and body language. It's a character I won't stop thinking about for a long while. I might write a thesis on the character and his different incarnations someday, just to entertain myself.

Steve McGarrett - Hawaii Five-0

Hear me out.

(Look at how fucking sad he looks in that uniform I love it)

I know this show is mediocre on average, I know it's copaganda and the ethics of it are dystopian. It's so far from my political views you'd think I'm joking.

But I still love it.

And while Danny used to be my favorite character, I now relate to Steve more. My whole life, I've wanted to be a soldier. Because of my relationship with my father, because of my transness, and for other bullshit reasons. I have now given up on this aspiration because of health issues (and other stuff), with great regret. So when I see in a show a man like Steve, who didn't necessarily enlist for the right reasons, who exists through his usefulness to his community - his found family - and who shares my issues with showing emotion/letting people in, feeling worthy on one's own, and being terrified of being alone, when I see that man grow, find love and learn to open up and live his own life... Well I just turn off my critical mind a little and enjoy the ride. And it's fine. I just love this character 🤷

Notes:

Out of these five, at least three are queer (all of them if you count headcanons)

80% of them are cis men. I don't think it's for lack of encountering and liking characters of other genders, it's just what I liked this year

Boy, this hasn't been a great year reading-wise, on the whole (with a few stellar exceptions)

[domschwartz]

Building an anti-library for a child

"Adults not only create and publish what young people read but also serve as their literature's gate-keepers, determining what children can-and cannot-access."3

"Teaching a child to read is a family setup," said the man [Theodor Geisel] who helped teach so many. "It's the business of having books around the house, not forcing them. Parents should have 20 books stacked up on tables or set around the living room. The average kid will pick one up, find something interesting. And pretty soon he's reading."1

"Always be reading. Go to the library. There's magic in being surrounded by books. Get lost in the stacks. Read bibliographies. It's not the book you start with, it's the book that book leads you to.

Collect books, even if you don't plan on reading them right away. Nothing is more important than an unread library."4

Although not yet born and with unknown sex until birth, I feel passionate about the idea of an antilibrary2 [for my unborn child]...

Does building an antilibrary... include music?

Of course, it does! 😏 That being said... "Man has an instinctive tendency to speak, as we see in the babble of our young children; while no child has an instinctive tendency to bake, brew or write.'..

Until recently, most children never learned to read or write; even with today's universal education system, many children struggle and fail...

Children are wired for sound, but print is an optional accessory that must be painstakingly bolted on...

We are turning into a nation of illiterates, the victims of misguided ideas about the nature of reading and how to teach it."5 References:

’ R. S. (n.d.). Oh, the places he went! Dartmouth Alumni Magazine | The Complete Archive. Retrieved October 12, 2023, from https://archive.dartmouthalumnimagazine.com/article/1991/12/1/oh-the-places-he-went

Wikipedia contributors. (2023, February 15). Antilibrary. Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Antilibrary&oldid=1139479780

Marcus, L. (2019). The ABC of it: Why children’s books matter. University of Minnesota Press.

Kleon, A. (2012). Steal like an artist: 10 Things nobody told you about being creative. Workman Publishing.

McGuinness, D. (1999). The why our children can’t read, and what we can do about it: A scientific revolution in reading. Free Press.

[inzsanewrites]

Halloween Special 🎃

Sung Jin Woo

You brought the handheld mirror closer to your face as Jin-Ah finished the last of the of the light red paint on your face.

“Andddd… done! What do you think, Y/n?”

You admired the makeup Jin-Ah had painstakingly painted on for the celebration of Halloween. The white cracks… “glowing” effect… it was all perfect.

“Amazing as always, Jin-Ah.”

You stroked her hair as she beamed. Jin-Ah scampered off to go put on her costume, you felt grateful for the fact that she had put so much time and effort into your look and sent a quick Jin-Ho to treat her extra nicely.

Just as you sent the text off there was a knock on the door, startling you.

“Sarang? Are you ready yet?”

You looked down at your costume, ensuring that your dark cloak was in place. Once you confirmed it was, you made your way to open the door.

“Tada!”

You said cheerfully opening the door to Jin-Woo’s now confused face.

“What are you supposed to be, Y/n-ah?” He questioned, wrapping his arms around you to bring you closer.

You pouted jokingly, “Can’t you tell? I’m Tusk.”

At the sound of your voice, the wandering shadow who was one of the three designated bodyguard for the night looked at you.

“Oh, then what am I supposed to be?” Jin-Woo pointed to himself.

“Yourself.” You replied frankly. “Your costume is nothing more than your average day drip.”

The look of confusion return but he asked nothing about your vocabulary.

You gently took yourself out of Jin-Woo’s arms and round up pillow cases handing them out to Beru, Bellion, and Tusk, who was quite happy to see your costume.

“Alrighty, shall we head out then?”

Jaehwan

“There’s nothing to celebrate Halloween though?” Jaehwan looked at you perplexed when you brought up the idea.

“C’mon you’re the new Castellan. Surely the cook is willing spare some sweet and the servants can spookify the place a bit.”

“They would even know what if would be for and it would take a lot of time explaining it to them.” He said and around began walking off into another direction, sensing a new challenger.

“But if we did, it would be worth it.” You said slightly jogging to keep up with his fast strides. “And it would make me happy.” You added which abruptly stopped him in his tracks.

“It would?”

Your eyes twinkled. “Yep, extremely.”

Jaehwan let out a drawn out sigh.

“Then I guess we coul-”

Before he could finish his sentence, you were already running in the opposite direction, shouting “Happy Halloween!” at everyone you passed by making them wonder what was wrong with the Castellan’s significant other.

Yohan Seo

Yohan felt the awkwardness in the room increase as your fixation on his mouth did too.

For the past half an hour you had been staring into his mouth, comparing his fangs to the ones you had bought at an extremely high price.

“Unbelievable. Unforgivable.” He heard you say as you backed out of his mouth.

“My heart, what is it?” Yohan worriedly questioned as he snapped his jaw shut.

“The universe is unfair so just bite me already and take my melancholy as a mortal away.” You said, grief taking over your features.

This really had him worried he quickly carried you over to the velvet lovesick in the corner of the room.

“Although I would be happy to under normal circumstances, are you alright, love? Are you hurt? Sick?”

You slumped back. “None of those but a fool. So much money… gone and wasted… for something that looks no more real than a kid’s toy.”

He inspected the fake fangs in your hand. Sure they weren’t incredibly detailed but they weren’t that bad either, but he figured that your constant exposure to real ones influenced your thoughts to this situation. Secondly, he wasn’t quite sure as to why money was a problem when he had made it clear many times what was his was yours.

Yohan would have reinstated this had he not practically see you soul leaving your depressed form.

He scrambled to pick you up. “Don’t be like that, dear. I’m sure Levi can do something to help.”

The light of life faintly returned to your eyes.

“Really?” Your tone was hopeful.

Yohan felt a weight remove itself from his still heart.

“Yes, I’ll have her fix up something better for our Halloween outing tonight.”

The light had fully bloomed into a firework.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou.” You exclaimed burying yourself into his figure.

A light blush appeared on his features as he returned the affection.

“It’s no problem at all. Happy Halloween, my darling.”

A/N: Happy Halloween! Remember be safe, be in groups, don’t follow strangers, carefully inspect candy before eating, don’t trust strangers, have some know your whereabouts at all times, don’t enter anyone’s house (unless it’s a party, then avoid leaving last and by yourself), and keep aware of your surrounding and other people around you at all times! Enjoy your Halloween. Also Yohan is not with Levi when I write for him ( ◕‿‿◕ )

[quicksilverownsmysoul]

Fly With Me

Summary: You are a flight attendant on the plane with Loki, after flirting back and forth you guys decide to have some fun in the airplane bathroom.

Warnings: smut, slight choking, if you squint there’s a little bit of subby Loki, +18 don’t read

You couldn’t help but notice the dashingly handsome man that was sitting towards the back of the plane. He was sitting in a row all by himself and out of the corner of your eye you could see him starting at you, a devilish smile plastered on his lips.

You continued with your work, passing out drinks and little packets of peanuts to the other passengers, counting down the rows until you reached him. You parked your cart next to him, leaning down a little further than necessary to ask him what he’d like to drink. He ran his tongue across his teeth, giving you a playful smirk as he glanced down the front of your flight attendant uniform. “Are you on the menu, because my dear you look absolutely refreshing.”

His voice was like silk, and you couldn’t deny the shiver that went down your spine at his words. “Maybe.” You teased. “If you meet me in the back bathroom in 15 minutes.” You handed him a small plastic cup filled with soda, he took it and sipped it as he watched you walk away. You usually didn’t openly flirt like this but there was something about this man that made you want to give in without a second thought.

You slipped into the small bathroom, sitting up on the sink as you waited for him to come in. You were glancing at your reflection, fixing your hair when he came in. Due to the small space he was pressed up against you, his crotch pressing into your core. You hummed contently and looped your arms around his neck. He bent down, allowing you to capture his lips in yours. “Do you have a name pretty boy, or should I just call you mine.”

He growled at your words, biting on your bottom lip. “Flirty little thing aren’t you.” He pulled back taking your lip with his before releasing it. “Do you do this a lot?”

You shook your head. “Only for you sir.” You watched the man groan at the name. You reached down and bunched your skirt up, exposing your lacy black panties to him. He skimmed your clothes folds with his long finger, making a wet spot appear, smirking as he felt your wetness seeping onto his finger.

He pushed the fabric aside and slipped one of his nimble fingers past your folds. Your breath hitched and you tightened your grip on his expensive suit. He went painstakingly slow, adding another and moving them in a come hither motion. You felt your pleasure build, but as soon as it came it left. He pulled his fingers out abruptly making you whine.

He shushed you, trailing wet kisses up your neck. He leaned back as far as the small room would let him, lifting his fingers up to his lips, he dipped them past his lips, closing his eyes and moaning at the taste. “You taste absolutely divine darling.” He peeked one eye open. “Would you like a taste?” He smashed his lips against yours, his lips were soft but his kiss was rough and sensual.

He flipped you around so your ass was now pressed against his front. You watched him watch you in the mirror. His slender fingers latching onto your neck and squeezing it slightly, you closed your eyes at the feeling. “Such a pretty little midgardian.” He pressed another wet kiss to your neck, biting down so it would leave a mark. “You deserve to be absolutely ravished.” You felt him zip down your dress, he pushed it off your shoulders, your black lacy bra now visible. “But sadly we don’t have time for that my dear.”

You felt him push into you in one quick motion, your mouth opened in a silent scream. He wasn’t thicker than average but god was he long, he hadn’t even bottomed out yet and he was already pressing into your cervix. He began to roughly thrust up into you, his hands holding onto your tits for leverage. You could feel him rolling your nipples through the fabric of your bra.

He watched your face contort in pleasure as he pounded you from behind. He pressed you even closer to the counter, you had your hands pressed against the mirror. Your hot breath making it fog up. “You look so pretty like this.” He cooed.

You pulled one hand off the mirror, leaving only one to hold you up. You let your hand move back and close around Loki’s neck, mirroring what he had done earlier. “And you look so pretty like this.” You squeezed lightly, teasing in between your shallow breaths. He shuttered and let out a low whine, loving the way you teased him back.

His thrusts got sloppier, he pushed as deep as he could chasing his release. He moved his hand from your chest to cup your mound, rubbing your clit at a rapid pace, pushing you closer to your release. You leaned back into him, he was completely holding you up as you bounced your self up and down. You felt you release hit you, your cunt clenching around his member as your eyes rolled back into your head.

He came with a low groan, his sticky release filling you. He pulled out and tucked himself back into his slacks. He pushed his hair back into place and tightened his tie. He took in your disheveled appearance with a loving look, gently pressing a kiss to your cheek as he zipped your dress back up and slipped your panties into his pocket. “This was lovely, but I’m afraid I can’t stay.” He opened the door to the stall and turned to look at you over his shoulder. “There’s a bomb on the plane, I think it’d be best if you evacuated everyone.” He closed the door behind him with a wink.

You did as he said and a couple hours later you boarded the plane again, a duffle bag in hand. You made your way back to the row you had originally found him in, he was looking out the window at the flashing police lights. He turned as he saw you coming, flashing you a smile that made your knees weak. He took in the money you offered and stood up, grabbing it from you. “I hope to see you again some day. Till then.” He pulled you close, wrapping one arm around your waist. He kissed you deeply, you eagerly returned it, smiling against his lips. When he pulled away you grabbed him by his tie and pulled him close to whisper in his ear.

“Come find me someday pretty boy.” You could see his eyes close at the pet name behind his sunglasses. He checked to make sure his parachute was strapped on correctly before he made his way to the emergency exit, pulling it open. The wind rippled around him making his gelled hair blow around his face. He lowered his sunglasses to give you a wink before jumping out.

You ran to the door and looked out, trying to find his falling from. But he was no where to be found. The only evidence of him ever being on the plane was your missing panties and the stickiness between your thighs.

[apocalypticgargoyle]

Hi I need to ask a favor of you... Can we get like,,, the reader trying to set cc!dream up with a friend of theirs and he actually likes the reader so we get like dream trying to say that he likes the reader. Idk if this makes sense but I just want a dramatic like "ARE YOU DUMB" moment. Thank u, I'll exit the stage.

Okay so long story short, I had a series about Dre that I was going to write (like a million years ago even before e!k) and I tuned up the confession scene because it fit with the request. Idk idk. It was back when I was having my romance novel phase. N E WAY. happy reading :) ♡ g

𝐄𝐆𝐎 & 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. ♘ 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

± warnings: language, angst, being so overdramatic, mentions of rivals to lovers, being in a shower, kinda cringe ngl

Dream eyed you over his glass from across the table, his legs long enough that he was invading your space beneath the surface. His green eyes burned into you, which you attempted to let roll off your shoulders innocently. Your friend was talking up Sapnap, completely destroying your plan put in place. It seemed like Dream could tell what you were up to as well, and by the look he was sending your way and the tension in his shoulders, you could tell he wasn’t in the mood for it. Sapnap asked the girl beside you how she was doing in her classes and before he could boast about his own achievements, you butted in. “You know, Clay’s ranked fourth in our sociology class.” Dream rolled his eyes as your friend’s brow perked at your statement.

She cracked a grin in his direction. “Oh really? You some kind of a genius?” She joked, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear.

Dream chewed the inside of his cheek and folded his hands together on the table, uncomfortable now that you had shifted the subject matter to him. “Uh, I wouldn’t say that. It’s an intro course so…” he mumbled. She hummed in response and he wet his lips.

You jumped into the small bit of silence. “Come on, don’t downplay! He’s also helped me pass calculus last year,” you boasted. Dream shut his eyes briefly as if it were taking every ounce of his being not to scold you. You didn’t care.

“That’s awesome! I’m actually a mathematics major,” your friend eased. “Maybe if you are some kind of genius you could help me figure out homeomorphically irreducible trees sometime,” she jousted with a small wink. Dream chuckled and you thought maybe… finally… they were clicking. You knew you were right, you knew they were a perfect match. Dream just had to put forth a bit more effort.

Dream’s eyes flashed to you again briefly, as if a symbol of telling you he’d kill you for pushing this. “Oh, I don’t know anything about math really, but Sapnap knows a lot of the math professors,” he turned over with a soft smile, sending your friend back into Sapnap’s metaphorical tract. The two started rambling to each other and Dream shot you a dirty look. “Cut it out,” he bit, barely loud enough for you to even hear. You took this as a challenge.

Another round of drinks came to the table, Dream had yet to completely finish his first as it seemed like something was weighing on his mind. You had gotten into the habit of picking up every subtle tick he had and picking at it. You silently listened to the conversation between Nick and your friend as it wound down, giving you the opportunity to strike up something else about Dream. “So Clay, what was your beer pong average last semester?” You asked, taking a sip from your straw innocently.

He sent you a deadpan expression, but Sapnap answered for him. “Oh, trust me, Clay’s the one you want on your team at every frat party,” he praised. You knew how much your friend liked the whole idea of winning pointless party games.

“I think it’s time I walk you home,” Dream mumbled after standing before you could answer. You followed him out of the restaurant, sending your friend and Sapnap an awkward grin. They had barely noticed anyway; too caught up in their own conversation. You jogged a bit to catch up to Dream as he shoved his fists in his pockets. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He grumbled.

You furrowed your brows, nudging his arm playfully. “What do you mean? I’m trying to get you laid!” You chided. He rolled his eyes again. “Loosen up! Come on, she’s pretty isn’t she.”

Dream sighed deeply. “Of course she’s pretty. Just quit with meddling in my sex life,” he hissed.

You laughed mockingly. “You are so tightly wound!” He pushed the door open to your building. You could tell you were pushing his buttons as he pursed his lips instead of firing something back at you. “You’re such a killjoy,” you joshed, pinching his side.

He swatted your hand away, attempting to ignore you. “Quit.”

“Fine, whatever. Go home and make fast with your hand.” That was it---the last push.

Dream grabbed your arm and yanked you down the hall behind him. You could practically see the steam rolling off his shoulders as he turned a corner and you began to grow tense. You knew he'd never hurt you but the sheer anxiety of what he was going to do next weighed on your conscience. Had you gone too far this time? You'd pushed him past his limit before, but he'd never taken you with him when he needed to remove himself from the situation.

You were shocked as he threw open the door to the communal showers, your brows knitting together in confusion as you began to claw at his hand. "Clay, stop! What are you doing?" You gritted, struggling against his grip. He threw open one of the stall doors and tossed you inside, your back hit the linoleum tiling with a quiet thump and you glared at him with scolding eyes as if to bite ‘don't you dare touch me’ into his skin.

He pursed his lips as if his anger was threatening to boil over and he turned the knob behind you, instantly soaking you and your clothes in freezing water. You painstakingly jumped for the dial and he grabbed your arm again, pulling you inches from his face. "You need to cool the fuck down. I'm serious!" He snapped.

Your eyes felt like they were going to pop out of your head in disbelief at the audacity he had. His jaw tensed as he glared at your features and you drew his arm closer, turning on your heel so he replaced you in the water. His reaction was subtle to the dowsing; instead, he released his grip on you. "What the hell is your problem!" You yelled. This was unknowingly becoming your breaking point. You hadn't woken up that day and realized today is the day I choose violence but Dream's medieval form of communicating with you was striking a hidden nerve.

"My problem? MY PROBLEM?" He let out an exasperated sigh, turning slightly to twist the knob for hot water before laying into you. Why he didn't just turn off the water was unbeknownst to you. "My problem is you!"

You rolled your eyes heavily. "Me?" You tsked at him. "Why don't you get a fucking life-"

"Are you really that fucking stupid?" He bit. Your disgusted look you made sure to exaggerate twisted something behind his eyes. The shower began to produce steam over his shoulders. Dream's hair had begun hanging in short ringlets around his ears. His long-sleeved t-shirt clung to his body enough that you could see every dip in his chest. Every breath he drew in to calm himself down rippled through his silhouette. In the slightest way, it seemed as if the dragon was finally baring his soft underbelly to you.

His hands balled into fists at your look of disbelief at him calling you dumb. He groaned deeply, bringing his palms to his eyes and gritting his teeth. He then pushed his fingers into his wet hair, plastering it back from framing his face. Dream's bright eyes studied you with his features set in stone. "How could you not realize?" He let out a short exhale, his hands seemingly gripping for his own thoughts as they moved with his search of words. "I know you aren't as aloof as you put off. I know you know that I-" he stopped himself short with an aggressive shrug of his shoulders. It was almost humoring to see him standing like a wet dog in front of you and at a loss for words. That big head of his was proving to be a difficult landscape for him to form sentences. "... That I-" he bit into his lip, frustration settling into his brow.

You rolled your eyes again, your wet clothes feeling uncomfortable as they began to shrink against certain parts of your body. The steam from the water was enveloping the two of you in the small space, but your close stance kept a breath of clearance in your visions. "Spit it out, Clay. Obviously, I'm too dumb to put two and two together. You're gonna have to man up and get over it," you snapped and his eyes flashed up to the ceiling.

He gritted his teeth again. "Fuck. What am I trying to say?" He hissed. The gears in his head were beginning to rust with overstimulation, and you could tell. He was hesitant as if debating what would be his next move. The tall man before you was slowly unraveling into unarticulated emotions. The minuscule thought tugged at your mind that Dream was attempting to tell you he felt something for you. It was oddly satisfying to juxtapose your ill-fated seven minutes in heaven experience when you had met him with the close, wet atmosphere you were in now. Even back then Dream couldn't figure out what to say.

He swallowed, his anger had melded into something less aggressive and more inwardly scorning. "I care about you," he blurted, his voice coming out uneven. He wasn't nervous and it seemed as if he'd practiced this in the mirror yet was crumbling under the pressure of you actually standing before him. "I care about you," he repeated, his face still tense and severe.

You were taken aback by his simple statement, awaiting his next move. You didn't dare arrest your eyes from his, your mind blurring about what to say to his confession. You knew that was big coming from him at the way it tugged at your heartstrings, making you blush in the ferocity of the steaming stall. The beat of silence was broken as he took a step toward you, taking your face into his large hands in a gentle gesture. His fingers threatened to snake into your hair as his thumb traced the bend in your jaw. Droplets of water fell off of him to splash against your sopping wet clothing, the warmth of his figure nearly pressed against yours sending rushes of goosebumps across the plain of your skin.

His eyes searched yours as he hesitated, as if savoring being close enough to taste you, yet the anticipation of sealing the fated and quarrelsome air between the two of you with his kiss was nearly too unrealistic for his mind to comprehend. The pad of his thumb brushed lightly against the flesh of your bottom lip as if he were wondering if the shade was their true color, all of his movements completely foiling the way he'd always handled you.

His look of desire and unsteadiness gave him the appearance of an explorer wandering around a foreign planet with the consistency of practice but restraint. You'd heard other girls talking about being with Dream---a fumbling night of drunken fun or a quick use and jading---but the Dream standing before you now seemed to be his own breed. You let your mind flicker to the fantasy that maybe the boy itching to mark you was a figment of him reserved and stocked only for you.

You found yourself leaning on your toes as his eyes began to close, drawing you in with his subtle caress. The water thundered down against him as his towering frame shielded you from the shower, the sound of its stream bouncing off the floor and your matted articles of clothing mixing with Dream's soft breath. As he pressed his lips against yours, it seemed like he was hesitant as if you'd snatch yourself away from his cradling like you always had, but sure enough, your sneakers were glued to the floor beneath you. Wherever you were going in the next few minutes would be to follow his lead.

His fingers dipped into your locks, bringing you deeper into his gesture of passion. Your mind clicked into the reality of the situation as your shoulders sank into a sense of calmness. Your hands found purchase around his waist, wanting to reassure him that you were reading his actions as your fingers traced the lines and dips in his back.

He kissed you with a needy passiveness that bled into the echoing taste of mint, bitter coffee, and the soft embrace of his mildly chapped lips. You'd been close enough to him in the past to dig your nose into his clean scent, but as he pressed against you, it was all you could focus on. He kissed you as if his lips were studying to be experts on your own; a kneading of exploratory gentleness met with a keen sense of wanting to pour everything unsaid between the two of you into this action. It was like he hungrily wanted to know the curvature of your mouth like the back of his hand.

He broke away from you breathlessly and your floating sense of calm clouded and compacted your words. You hesitated to open your eyes as you felt him settle his forehead against yours, not wanting to extract himself from you yet. You subtly enjoyed the fact of sharing air with him as you drew in a deep breath, the taste of him still lingering in your mouth. You wanted that taste to live on your tongue.

Clay stepped back, shrugging out of your hold reluctantly. His hand moved to settle over his mouth as if he was silently apologizing for the suddenness of that action. Your mind was running wild with the thought of him. You parted your lips, stunned enough that you could barely remember how to stand on your own let alone string together a sentence.

He swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding your eyes. "I- um," his tongue darted across his lips and you yearned at the fact that you wanted to be pressed against him again, selfishly needing to be tangled among his long limbs or you'd surely die. "I'll see you around," he stated, undoubtedly noticing how verklempt you were and what kind of effect he'd had on you.

He moved to step around you and your eyes glued to where he was standing before. He halted when his shoulder brushed against yours, his gaze turning to trace against your features as you struggled to meet his eyes. You knew he was biting back a smirk as he went on his way again, leaving you to decompose at the mental imagery of him.

You heard the door swing shut behind him and you pushed your wet hair away from your face, turning off the water. As you stepped from the stall, you met eyes with a girl who perked an eyebrow in your direction. She froze in the middle of brushing her teeth, having obviously seen Clay leave, and at the sight of you, she smirked. “Alright, alright. I see you, Elizabeth Bennett,” she winked, swaying a bit before continuing on with her routine.

Dream Tag List: (follow this link to be added ;))

@karlkitten @pluto-dizzz @more-like-reyna @honk-izzie-was-taken @marrymetheonott @froggyy06 @ghoulandghost @savingpluto @marshmallow-babe @drunkpumpkincake @unstableye @tinyegg @behzzyboo @darphobic @twist3dtinkerbell @sparkletash @lindsayhunz @shroomieissmall @mintmochiii @clubfairy