#from the start and like im not trying to be conspiratorial but i think a lot of defending him now did not have 'a change of heart' but were | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonchildstyles · 3 months

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whats this aster curious gazes im seeing ?🥸

wordcount: 2.7k+

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Mikaela impatiently checked the time broadcasted on the clock above the auditorium's entrance, trailing after the molasses-slow minute hand. How had it only been three minutes since she last checked and not the twenty she had sworn it had been? She and her group had already finished peer reviewing each other's papers ten minutes ago, but they were all confined to their seats for fear of Professor Rian marking them down for leaving early—one of his favorite activities Mikaela had learned about the hard way during the second week of courses.

"How much longer?" Bria bemoaned from across the table, her own boredom showing in her dull gaze. (Y/N) perked up at Mikaela's side at the question, though she stayed just as quiet as she always was.

"Another thirty," Mikaela murmured, a moment away from rolling her eyes, "I feel like we've been waiting for, like, an hour."

Around them, the remaining groups were still chattering, some speaking about the essays while others seemed just as checked out as them. Running a hand through her long hair, Mikaela convinced herself to stay strong.

"At least it'll be the weekend after this," she reminded the table, looking to Bria, "You're still set on getting your tattoo this weekend?"

Bria plucked up at the question, her brown eyes sparkling in excitement. "Mhm! They called and confirmed yesterday with me, so I'll be in tomorrow morning, first thing!"

"Are you going to be with the same guy that you had the consultation with?" Mikaela asked, picturing the long haired, heavily tattooed man she had seen when she went with Bria the first time to set up the initial appointment. She almost booked one for herself after seeing him; even the scowl and less than friendly demeanor couldn't detract from his... everything.

Leaning across the table as if sharing a secret, Bria raised her eyebrows with a conspiratorial gleam in her eyes. "I hope. I might cancel, if not."

Mikaela laughed along with her friend, knowing exactly where she was coming from.

Piping up with a small smile on her features, (Y/N) asked, "Where are you going for your tattoo?"

"It's not too far from here actually," Bria started, settling her chin in her hand as she spoke to (Y/N) at Mikaela's side. "It's called 17Black."

(Y/N)'s expression brightened at the mention of the tattoo parlor in a way Mikaela had never seen before. Though she usually came to class fresh-faced and dewy, there was now a glimmer in her eyes that almost gave the illusion of glitter having fallen in her lashes.

"They're the best," she bubbled, her smile wide, "It's gonna turn out really, really good. You said you know who your artist is going to be?"

"Yeah—um—hold on," Bria muttered, reaching into her bag, "I got his card last time I was in—I think he's the owner, or something." After a moment she pulled out a black and white business card, reading the name off: "Harry."

Passing the card across the table, (Y/N) eagerly read over the stylized font and the glossy logo on the other side. "He's amazing—you're super lucky, Bria."

(Y/N)'s smile wasn't one that could be shaken as she passed back the card. Mikaela thought she looked like she was proud, even. (Y/N) was always so reserved, seemingly more comfortable in the background and only chirping up when needed, Mikaela had never seen her so bright like this.

"Have you been there before, (Y/N)?" she asked, trying to imagine someone like (Y/N) with any tattoos—especially done at a place like 17Black.

Not that there was a specific kind of person that could have tattoos or that the parlor wasn't nice, but she had a hard time picturing (Y/N) with all her ribbons, pink sweaters, and shimmer flouncing into that building and getting a design inked into her skin. Especially by someone like Bria's artist; she was already shy enough, Mikaela doubted his scowls and curt tone would be anything of comfort.

That left her raising her brows in surprise when (Y/N) happily nodded her head. "Yeah! I only have one tattoo, but Harry did it and it's"—there was a moment something dreamy flashed over (Y/N)'s gaze then—"It's perfect."

"I didn't know you had a tattoo," Bria interjected, her expression surely mirroring Mikaela's with her own perked brows and searching gaze as if they had both somehow missed an obvious marking.

"It's really little," (Y/N) explained, settling some in her seat, "It's on my side, like, on my ribs, so people don't really see it."

"I never pictured you with a tattoo," Mikaela added, "And especially on your ribs. You're brave."

"Honestly," Bria started, bouncing full brows over her eyes "I don't know how you got through it, especially with him."

A cinch appeared between (Y/N)'s brows. "What do you mean?"

"You probably had to take your shirt off for the rib tattoo, right?" Bria prodded, watching as (Y/N) flustered some before ultimately nodding her head, "I don't know how to act around that guy—Harry—with my clothes on, I think I would combust if he asked me to take them off."

It wasn't hard to see that (Y/N) was bubbling with embarrassment at Bria's remark—though Mikaela did hardily agree. She wondered if (Y/N) felt the same way; it was hard to picture her getting flustered over someone like Bria's artist. There could be that whole opposites attract thing going on for them, but Mikaela could only really see the scenario where Harry would crush the marshmallow that is (Y/N).

"Oh, I don't know," she muttered half-heartedly, trailing off without a real answer, "You know, he's just..."

"It's okay, I get it," Bria finished for her with a bubbling laugh that had (Y/N) cracking her own polite smile. "He's pretty intimidating, honestly. Not for everyone, I guess."

With her hands a bundle in her lap, (Y/N) tilted her head, "I wouldn't say that—"

Not a moment too soon, Professor Rian made his way back to the forefront of the auditorium—something Mikaela wished he would have done a half an hour prior. "Class dismissed. Next Wednesday we'll do our final draft reviews and the finished essays will be due next Friday at midnight. Have a nice weekend."

"Finally," Bria exasperated, immediately rushing to pack her things just as Mikaela had before Rian had even finished talking.

(Y/N) had done the smart thing and had her things ready to go once they had finished peer reviewing, only having to sling her bag over her shoulder while she quietly waited for the pair of them to get their own shit together.

It was wild how much more awake Mikaela felt now that class had been dismissed, leaving behind the exhausted state she was lulling into at her desk. Shrugging into her jacket, the mental list of tasks she had to accomplish before her sister, Mira, and her boyfriend would be over for dinner didn't sound so bad now.

"What are you getting, Bria? For your tattoo, I mean," she chirped up, peering around Mikaela as they walked into the corridor, steps in sync with one another.

"The moon and some stars and stuff on the top of my hand," she explained, "It's kind of hard to describe without a picture, but it's this whole thing."

"That sounds really pretty," (Y/N) smiled, sincerity in her voice, "Hopefully it won't take too long—I hear the top of your hand can hurt sometimes with the bones and all."

"It might not be so bad if it took a while, right?" Mikaela piped up, shooting Bria a look from the corner of her eye. Maybe, if Mira and her boyfriend didn't overstay their welcome tonight, she'd go with Bria in the morning and see if her artist had a girlfriend or something.

(Or was at least open to hooking up on one of the tattoo chairs).

Leading down the hall towards the main entrance of the building, Bria nudged Mikaela's shoulder. Ahead of them, (Y/N) reached forward and opened the door for the three of them to pass through.

"Definitely wouldn't be bad," Bria laughed, the chill of the winter air seeping through the sleeves of Mikaela's jacket as they stepped outside. "I don't know, I might even—Wait, oh my god."

"What?" Mikaela asked, brows furrowing at the abrupt change in her friend.

Instead of the amused bubbly expression she wore just a moment prior, Bria now looked ahead with wide eyes and gaped lips, her steps slowing over the concrete.

(Y/N) noticed the change in her demeanor as well, peering around Mikaela as her own features molded into something of worry. "What happened?"

"He's here," Bria muttered, looking straight ahead towards the student parking lot, "That's literally him right there, isn't it? Why is he here?"

"Who? Who's her—"

Following Bria's line of sight, Mikaela felt her own words get stuck in her throat when she saw just what had her friend going limp.

As if summoned, Bria's tattoo artist—Harry—had somehow found a prime parking space in the student lot and was now waiting.

He was ever the intimidating figure with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the hulking frame of the black Range Rover behind him. (Because, of course, he would drive a Range Rover). Even with the chunky black cardigan draped over his form, he didn't look any less imposing than when he had stalked through the tattoo parlor. He perfectly matched his car, all black, tattoos tracing over his skin, including the heavy chest pieces on display from the low scoop of his top. A pair of sunglasses were holding his hair back on the top of his head, with his lips set in a firm line, lip ring and all.

"He doesn't go here, right?" Mikaela blanched. Why else would be here, if not to go to class, right?

(Y/N) looked just as bewildered as they were, a cant to her head as she took him in. "What is he doing here?" she muttered, voice quiet enough to be speaking to herself.

Their small trio stood off to the side, out of the way as the rest of their classmates trickled around them as well as other students meandering through campus. From where they stood, Mikaela could see the way the tattoo artist scanned over the student body, searching for something—or someone.

He didn't come to see Bria, right? That would be crazy, leaning on certifiable—even if he was hot.

Mikaela's eyes widened when she saw (Y/N) wave her hand above her head. What was she doing? Did she not think this was weird that he had showed up to campus when he really didn't have any reason to?

She watched as he caught sight of (Y/N)'s waving arm and his features almost immediately softened. Even from where they were standing, it was clear to see the tension releasing from his body in a breath. He pushed off from where he was lent against his Range Rover and started towards the building—towards them.

Was (Y/N) insane or something, and they'd just missed all the signs until this moment? Why would she ask him to come over here?

"He's coming over here, what the fuck," Bria murmured, just as lost as Mikaela.

It didn't take long for his spanning strides to cross the concrete and take him to where their small group had taken root. Seeing him this close again, Mikaela realized her memory didn't do him any justice—he was more than gorgeous. Unfortunately crazy, but still hot.

Had he always had his nose pierced? Had his eyes always been that green? Had they always been pinned to (Y/N) like that?

"(Y/N), do you—" Bria started, only to cut herself off when (Y/N) excitedly bounced up to her toes once the tattoo artist was close.

"What are you doing here, H?" she chirped, familiarity in her voice as she looked up at him.

Mikaela figured she wore the same expression that Bria did, with her eyes wide and brows raised, a fraction away from her jaw dropping as they watched the tattoo artist—H—pull (Y/N) into his arms and drop a kiss on the top of her head.

"Came to pick you up for lunch, if that's okay," he murmured, not sparing a glance their way as he kept the pink marshmallow in his arms. "I also noticed there was an extra jacket lying around my room that I thought was supposed to be with you."

Sheepishly looking down, (Y/N) shook her head. "I forgot, I'm sorry."

Adoration was clear on the tattoo artist's—her boyfriend—features. "'S alright, lovebug. I brought it with me so y'can have it the rest of the day, jus' don't keep forgetting it. 'S only getting colder out, I don't want you to get sick."

"I won't," (Y/N) sighed, looking entirely at home as she clutched his sweater in her hands and fluttered her lashes at him as if he were a king. "Thank you."

Mikaela couldn't help the simmering of her blood beneath her skin, surely a flush painting her complexion as she thought back to just what she and Bria had been saying during class. They talked all about how hot (Y/N)'s boyfriend was to her face, implied he was intimidating and not her type, and she had even heard them freak out thinking he had come to see them. She was never going to pair with them for peer review again.

(Though Mikaela will give herself credit for not speaking about the lingering fantasy she'd had involving one of those tattoo chairs and Harry's hair pulled back so he could focus).

"Um," Mikaela sounded, almost cringing at how stupid she sounded from just a single syllable, "I think we should probably go, but we'll see you next week, (Y/N)."

(Y/N) turned with her expression going bashful. Her boyfriend's hands didn't move from where they were on her waist though he finally looked up from her to see the rest of the world around them.

"I'm sorry," she apologized as if in reflex. Looking at the man behind her, she started with a shy smile on her lips, "Harry, this is Bria and Mikaela. They're the girls from one of my English classes I've told you about."

Back was the expression she recognized from when she had dropped by the tattoo parlor. His features hardened some, going less open and easy to read than they had been just a moment ago. He took them in with a stilted smile on his lips.

"Nice to meet you," he murmured, his gaze flicking to Bria for a split second longer, "Actually, we've met before, right? You're my nine a.m. tomorrow."

"I am, yeah," Bria said, sounding just as lame as Mikaela felt. It was easy to see Bria was floundering for anything to say before she finally settled on, "(Y/N) didn't tell us she had a boyfriend."

His smile turned lopsided at that, amusement flickering in his gaze as he looked down at the marshmallow in his arms. "She didn't?"

(Y/N) looked to the pair of them, biting back a smile as if remembering what was said back in class but deciding it was their secret to keep. "It just didn't come up."

"Right," he smiled, squeezing her waist just enough to get her bouncing at his side with a short huff of laughter pouring out, "Are you ready to go?"

"I think so, yeah," (Y/N) agreed, craning her neck to smile up at him before returning her attention to Mikaela and Bria. "I'll see you guys next week."

The pair shared similar goodbyes, hoping they didn't sound as embarrassed as they felt. Walking away from them, Mikaela watched Harry tangle his fingers with (Y/N), slowing just long enough to press a kiss to her forehead before leading her towards his Range Rover.

"We are the most annoying people in the world," Mikaela said, breaking their silence, "We literally said all of that about him to his girlfriend."

"She's never going to partner for peer review with us again."

Despite the guilt and bits of humiliation floating through her system, Mikaela couldn't shake off just how sweet it was to see (Y/N) interact with someone like that—especially someone like her boyfriend. They were clearly in love, that much she could tell.

"Oh my god," Bria said, whipping her head around to look at Mikaela with horror stricken eyes.

"What?" Mikaela asked, taken aback at the sudden urgency in Bria's voice. Was another person they had lusted over to their partner, about to round the corner?

"I have to see him again tomorrow," Bria whined, "And, (Y/N)'s probably going to tell him what we said."

At that thought, Mikaela really hoped her sister would overstay her welcome tonight—give her a reason to stay in bed and leave Bria to her appointment alone.

—————

this is the first time im trying out this kind of pov so I really hope everyone like it! thank you sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and please lmk if you have any ideas you want to share!

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blu-oo · 8 months

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Ok so I’m a complete sucker for buggy-shanks-roger pirates angsty time travel plots but I’ve noticed that it’s pretty much only ever Buggy (as far as I can recall) being the main POV/one to time travel. While i have absolutely no complaints about this (lol) i do wish we could see more with Shanks behind the wheel, especially since he’s still so mysterious he’s essentially a blank slate.

And im just imagining like:

shanks immediately just gunning to go. He WILL find a way to save his captain, he WILL make it so rouge and/or ace are safe, he WILL keep his relationships with everyone he lost touch with after his captain died, he WILL find a way to make Buggy not hate him anymore.

Except, shanks isn’t a naive little kid anymore. His captain is amazing, he loves him, but it isn’t until he’s back in time that he realizes this man he idolized was terribly flawed. He didn’t always think before he acted, he didn’t always do what was best for the safety of his crew. He didn’t always put his pride aside for the betterment of those who cared for him or the situation at hand. He didn’t listen when buggy was scared, ignored or even laughed at him, at his fear. Why would he do that? He knows roger wouldn’t let anything happen to them, but still, how had he never noticed that before-

He wasn’t too overly familiar with Rouge and her crew but they met up enough that shank’s starts to keep an eye on her and his captain, waiting for any hints of whats to come. He still has plenty of time before anything happens but he’s anxious, doesn’t know if he’ll be able to help them in time. So he decides to try putting ideas in their heads. A little “hey captain, if you ever have a kid one day I can’t wait to play with them and teach them how to sword fight!” here, and and little “our nakama is family! We can always count on one another when something super life changing happens!” there. But when he starts trying to drop hints, no one listens to him. He’s just a kid and no one is listening to him, why won’t they listen-

With his future knowledge, his already rapidly successful sword and haki training grows tenfold (despite having to reacclimate to having both his arms again and woah that’s trippy). And this is good! This means he’ll be even more ready to defend his nakama and their futures as certain events unfold. And everyone is excited for him, throwing prideful smiles his way, and he’s never felt so close, so connected and on equal footing (or as equal as a child could be) to the rest of the roger pirates. Except…

Except the already existing gap between him and buggy seems to become an ever growing cavern. Shanks has never been starved of praise and attention in this or his past lifetime, but now that he’s wise enough to not only look ahead but back, he sees his best friend standing farther and farther away from him. And now that he’s older, now that he’s reliving everything through a new lense, he realizes just how…lonely his best friend was underneath the brazen and cocky bravado. How for every praise he received, buggy got only mockery and impatient sighs. For every successful fight shanks took part in, buggy was told to keep back as to not get in anyone’s way. For every blinding smile he received from his captain, buggy got- and oh. Oh.

Beyond a certain age, Shanks never begrudged buggy’s lack of fighting spirit. He understood now that it wasn’t for everyone, and that buggy especially made do with clever tricks and conspiratorial luck. Shanks was shanks, and buggy was buggy and that was good enough for him. Too bad he seemed to be the only one who thought that. And finally, finally, things have started to make sense. He sees all of his interactions with buggy and the others, from both this new reality and from before, interactions long past and those still to come, and finally starts to understand. Shanks is a grown man parading around as a child, but buggy? Buggy’s just a little boy. Just like shanks used to be.

And if through his righteous indignation on buggys behalf, shanks starts to really perceive his own treatment by his former nakama? Starts to truly feel the weight of their expectations on his shoulders that has ALWAYS been there and is finally able to identify it? Well. No one said fixing the absolute clusterfuck that was the fall of the roger pirates would be easy.

#fair warning i blab a LOT without really saying much lol #one piece #op #shanks #red haired shanks #buggy #buggy the clown #roger pirates #gol d roger #angsty time travel my beloved

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bropunzeling · 2 months

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I wish you would write a fic where... Matthew and Leon knew each other as children! Enough to at least leave an impression on each other. (And at some point, anywhere from adolescence to the future, get together.)

hmmmmm i feel like there could be something to like. maybe some sort of international youth hockey camp! idk! lil baby tournament! idk if the timeline works for when they were in juniors for any kind of cross pollination and im too sleep deprived to find out. the point is:

zitty greasy teen leon encounters zitty greasy teen matthew at a youth hockey deal. they are both good. they are both obnoxious. over the course of the weekend or week in which they are in close proximity, they both have that strange, immediate fascination that comes so naturally to teens, where you see a person and something in your gut just goes, get closer. figure them out.

at first they come off too strong on either side. matthew's a little younger and that means trying a lot harder to seem cool and with it and together and being none of the above. he definitely follows leon around and irritates the shit out of him at first. not that leon's all that much better at the lofty age of 16. perhaps they connect over something like trick shots, or video games, something to cross the great divide of being on opposing teams, and then it's like summer camp -- suddenly you're living in the pockets of a total stranger, hanging out all the time, peeling away to explore or hang out or climb fire escapes or just --

they kiss on the second to last day. it's nervous and dry and short and leon's palms sweat and matthew has no idea what to do with his hands. it's not very good, but it has leon's heart racing all the same.

and then, like summer camp, they don't talk ever again. the rest of that week or so stays a memory, slowly blurring with time. leon doesn't think about it much after that, is distracted by the end of his time in juniors, the start of his time in the bigs. maybe remembers matthew vaguely during his draft year, remembers seeing him across the ice, but not very well. it doesn't take much to displace those old memories with new ones of matthew grinning at him smugly, matthew cross checking and chirping and being so annoying leon nearly blows his top every game.

that is, until the night they're in a dim corner of a crowded bar in st. louis. they ended up next to each other by chance somehow, and at first leon wanted to leave, but the longer he talks to matthew the easier it is to stay where he is. matthew's talking about the weekend, chirping leon about the shit he said to the media, passing leon drinks, brushing his forearm with his fingers. smiling at leon in a way that isn't so far from how he grinned at leon all those years ago, conspiratorial, pleased.

this time when matthew kisses him, it makes leon's heart beat just as hard in his chest. this time, it's good.

#ask meme #hello from the office im. SO sleepy. but the power of zitty teens compelled me

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pinkmoondoll9shihtzu · 1 year

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diiary 2/25/2023

okayyy i been needing to write a longform post for a while! just to chronicle some thoughts in a cohesive way. & getting straight to the point: i'm realizing there is very little, if ANY payoff, to being an artist online. i'm not talking about money. im talking about the way it's like, the more ppl start to see you as an "artist", the more they feel like ur some kind of public figure they can lash out at w no repercussions. ur humanity is just wiped from their minds. i don't have some huge following by any means but for ME its gotten big since in the past i've been a serial deleter. usually at 800 followers im gone.

i love being creative & sharing for the sake of sharing but i deeply fear any kind of spotlight. since i came back onto tumblr i made the pledge to myself not to delete my account if it started growing but now im having second thoughts!! well i'll never delete this account cus im too sentimental but part of me just wants to stop posting in the ways i tend to do. like maube im too forthcoming & need to slink back into the shadows a bit. because i don't want to stop contributing art & music to the world but idk how to protect my heart.

like it's so crazy to me that artists are expected to b these idealistic icons of everything the viewer represents & if they make a single mistake its like fuck we better launch a pUBLIC HARASSMENT CAMPAIGN!! genuinely like, how are people supposed to want to put themselves out there when the climate is so hostile? it has got me feelin rly nihilistic i must admit. trying to put nice stuff into the world shld not be generating drama for me, especially when it's just my hobby & not even my "career".

for a while ive had no idea what to do for work or how to generate income in a way that works for me but honestly? im gonna bite the bullet & do some coding bootcamps so i can try n get a remote job doing some tech shit & making a fat salary. i guess i never rly considerd it before cus all the silicon valley stuff susses me out but idk. im naturally really good at code + my only real dream in life is to be able to support others & redistribute wealth. like ive never had anything of my own to share but if i could actually do this & become the secure+charitable person i wish to be, i think i cld finally have some inner peace/sense of fulfillment. plus i cld still be a recluse ^_^

ok well i guess that my diary entry for now. im rly grateful to everyone on this site who is genuine & respectful towards me. i am really enjoying all my creative projects right now & i just dont want it to ever stop being fun just because the internet doesnt want it to be fun for me. i seriously wonder why artists are the number one targets right now, i mean not to get too conspiratorial but like, this is exactly what the CIA wants :/ wahtever....i have no agenda other than plur. but yeah, i might just start to distance myself more from posting anything other than my work. we'll see. just kno that i dnt want it to b this way. ilu guys

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cutecherrygirl · 8 months

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Rage -Pt.2

Check out pt.1

Go to part 1 for more info about what's happening<3

"I ran out of mercy for you a century ago," Hyunjin said loudly. He finally let go of your chin. "What do you remember about today?" Asked you.

You spoke tiredly, like a child reciting a hated lesson. "Today was the Founder's Day celebration." You looked at Hyunjin wrapping your fingers around his. That was all you could remember, but it wasn't enough. Irritated, you tried to remember something else.

"Someone was in the restaurant... Chaeryeong." You happily offered him that name. "She was going to read my diary in front of everyone, and that was bad, because..." You messed with the memory and lost it. "I don't remember why. But we outsmarted her." You smiled warmly at him conspiratorially.

"Oh, 'we' did it, didn't we?"

"Yes. You got it out of her. You did it for me." The fingers of your free hand slipped under his jacket, searching for the hardness of the square bound book. "Because you love me," you said finding it and lightly scratching it. "You really love me, don't you?"

A faint sound was heard from the middle of the clearing. You turned to see that Seungmin had turned his face away from you.

"Y/N. What happened next?" Hyunjin's voice called you back.

"Then? Then Aunt Jihyo started arguing with me." You thought deeply about it for a moment and finally shrugged. "Oh...nothing. I got angry. She's not my mother. She can't tell me what to do."

Hyunjin's voice was cold. " I think that won't be a problem anymore. What happened after that"

You sighed heavily. "Then I went and got Chan's car. Chan." You said the name thinking, flicking your tongue over your fangs. In your mind's eye you saw a handsome face, black hair, strong shoulders. "Chan."

"And where did you go with Chan's car?"

"To Wickery bridge", Seungmin said turning back towards you. His eyes were inconsolable.

"No, to your house", You corrected him irritated. "To wait for....hmm.I forgot. Anyways, I waited there. And then....the storm started. Wind, rainz all that. I didn't like it. I got into the car. But something was following me."

"Somone followed you", Says Seungmin while watching Hyunjin.

"Some thing ", You insisted. You had enough of his interruptions. "Lets get away from here, just us", you said to Hyunjin, kneeing down so your face was closer to his.

"In a moment", he said. " What thing followed you?"

You leaned back angry. " I dont know what thing! It was like something I never saw before. Not like you and Seungmin. It was...." The images ripped through your mind. A mist that flowed along the ground. Screaming wind. Some form, white, huge, looked as if it was itself made of mist. He was catching up with you like a cloud driven by the wind.

"Maybe it was just part of the storm" you said. "But I thought it wanted to hurt me. I got away though." Fidgeting with the zipper of Hyunjin's leather jacket you sneakily giggled and looked up at him through your lashes.

For the first time, Hyunjin's face showed an emotion. His lips lift up forming a smile. "You git away."

"Yes. I remember what....somone....told me about running water. Evil things cannot cross it. So I drove to the river Drowning, to the bridge. And then...." You hesitated frowing, trying to find some solid memory. Water. You remember water. And someone screaming. But nothing else, " and then I crossed it", you figured out, excitedly. "Im sure I did, because im here now. And that's it. Can we go now?"

Hyunjin didn't answer.

"The car is still in the river", says Seungmin. Him and Hyunjin looked at each other like two parents discussing over head of their child that doesn't understand, and their hostility was forgotten for a moment. You felt a burst of resentment. You opened your mouth, but Seungmin continued. "Yeji, Lia and I found it. I swam under water and came to her, but by then...."

By then what? You frowned.

Hyunjin's lips squirmed ironically. "And you gave up on her? You, out of all people, should've assumed what could happen. Or that thought was so repulsive that you couldn't even observe it? Would you rather that's she's really dead?"

"She didn't had pulse, she didn't breath!" Seungmin yelled. "And she never had enough blood to change!" His eyes hardened. " At least not from me."

You opened your mouth again, but Hyunjin placed two fingers on them to shush up. He said deceptively: "Thats the problem now - or you are forced to see this? You told me to check her: check for yourself. She's in shock, irrational. Oh, yes, even Im admitting to it." He stopped and smiled brightly before he continued. "Thats not just a normal confusion after transformation. She will need blood, human blood, or her body won't have the power to finish the transformation. Sje will die."

What do you mean irrational? You tought angry. "I am fine", you saud through Hyunjin's fingers. "Im tired, thats all. I was going to bed before I heard you guys fighting and I cane to help. And then you didn't even let me kill him", You finished bitterly.

"Yes, why didn't you?" Says Seungmin. He watched Hyunjin motionless so he could look through him. Any sign of cooperation from his side disappeared. "That would ne the easiest."

Hyunjin shot him a look, suddenly furious; his hostile mood rising to confront Seungmin. He was breathing fast and shallow. "Maybe I dont like getting things the easy way", he hissed. Then he looked like he got his self control back. His lips curled mockingly: "Lets say like this, dear brother: if anyone will had the honour to kill you, that will be me. No one else. I'm planning to take care of that job personally. And I assure you, thats something im really good at."

"You proved it", Seungmin saud quietly, like his every word made him nauseous.

"But this one", Hyunjin said turning to you with shiny look in his eyes, "Didn't kill her. Why would I? I could've turn her whenever I wanted to."

"Maybe because she just got engaged with somone else."

Hyunjin lifted your hand, still wrapped around his. The ring was shining on third finger, decorated with big blue stone. You frowned at it, not understanding how you didn't saw it before. Then you shrugged your shoulders and leaned on Hyunjin.

"So", says Hyunjin while looking at you," that doesn't seem like a problem, right? I think she would be happier if she forgets about you." He lifted his gaze towards Seungmin witn awkward laugh. "But we will find out as soon as she gets to her sense. After that, maybe we could ask her who is she going to Choose. You agree?"

Seungmin shook his head. "How can you even offer that? After everything that happened...." His voice trailed off.

"With Ryujin? I can say it if you cant. Ryujin choose stupidly and payed for her choice. Y/N is different; she knows what she wants. But, it doesn't matter if you agree or not", he added, respecting Seungmin's new protests. "The fact is that now she is weak and needs blood. I will make sure she gets it, and then I will find out who did this to her. You can come but dont need to. Its up to you."

He straightened up and pulled you towards him. "Lets go."

#skz #skz stay #straykids #stray kids #stray kids imagines #hyunjin #kpop #seungmin #hwang hyunjin #kim seungmim #vampire

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kazimirfiles · 2 years

Note

Hi! Can I ask romantic matchup for bungou stray dogs and danganronpa thh?

i go by she/her pronouns, im 18, and i have no gender preference!

things i like: yellow, picnics on the beach, fruit water, black tea, old books, folklor, mythology, cultures, baking, hanging out with my best friends, animals, fancy earrings, theatre, pretty and rare words, summer, watching movies, reading, writing, telling funny stories, smiling conspiratorially to strangers and giving them flowers, drawing, fashion, psychlogy, true crime, dancing, All Tomorrows, old music, sarcasm

personality:

I'm very confident, dominant and assertive person. I voice my opinion, nobody dares to mess up with me. Also I'm calm, full of serenity and femenine energy. I just try to be myself. I appear a little cold but i'm fact I'm lively, sassy, charismatic and kind. And I try to be funny.

I love helping people and putting smiles to others faces. I'm mostly organised but I still can be very chaotic. I'm a hopeless romantic with my heart in everything I do. A bit of a night owl, I've always been fascinated by exploring old European cities and imagining the stories that lived in their streets. I'm a bit different from the rest of the group, but that's nothing to be ashamed of. I'm proud of it! Not all can understand me, but those who take the time to get to know me know that I'm an invaluable friend and companion.

my appearance: I'm 5'7 with hourglass figure, and- and I think picrew is more detailed-

Yup, I look like this

I'd totally fall for person that intrigued me (I grew up in the middle of nowhere in Eastern Europe so I'm extremely curious about everything). It might be their dressing style, little personality trait, hobby, etc.

They just must have something that makes them diffrent. I find it hot bc they give me chance to learn something new.

I hate fake, toxic, abusing people, bullies, stalkers and catcallers. I dislike eating on town, bc it disgust me (I hate finding hair in my dinner)

Extra notes:

- My family calls me Vampire

- In random moments I sing songs about man killing his wife or about dead body in closet bc my mom sang this songs when I was younger

- I have specific sense of humor

- If I like someone I'd infodump about thing that I'm actually obsessed with

- My friends say that I'm just more kind and friendly Byakuya Togami. Or they say that I'm lost Addams or something

- I'd call my lover pretty words in other languages, bc I can. Also I'll draw them and I'll write poems about them

Have a good day/night!

HELLO! Thank you for sending in lé matchup request 😌

I match you up with…

Fyodor Dostoevsky

• After skimming through your stuff and rereading it again, Fyodor was honestly the only person I could think of. Besides Atsushi who was a close runner-up, I have a feeling that Fyodor would likely enjoy you more.

• Fyodor likely didn’t notice you at first. I’d say he most likely caught your eye first, given his unique style and appearance, you likely approached him first.

• It started most likely with a short compliment from you. You were traveling to Japan Yokohama with a few friends just for funsies and met him along the way. You and your friends were having a picnic on a beach. It wasn’t a very populated one, so Fyodor was likely hanging around there.

• You and your friends heard the sound of boots crunching on sand and rocks. You turned around and saw Fyodor, staring at you from afar with a poker face, and intriguing purple/violet eyes.

• He panicked a bit actually. He didn’t expect you and your friends to be where he’s at. Instead, he took a deep breath, kindly looked at each of your friends, then smiled while walking away.

• You were beyond interested in this guy. He didn’t look Japanese. Was his appearance interesting to you? Definitely. Those purple-ish violet eyes? Alluring.

• Fyodor wasn’t doing any too important business. Well, he was still working on his next step to his goal, so he decided to walk out and just think.

• Some of your friends were a bit creeped by the guy, but you still wanted to figure him out. You tried talking to Fyodor to see what happens.

• I have to admit, he may have been annoyed by you at first. He just wanted alone time at the beach and you and your friends happen to be there. What made him change you may be wondering? It was a specific trait and thing you did that made him reciprocate your interest in him.

• Your outspoken yet feminine nature intrigued him a bit. Such an interesting combo of a personality. He probed you more, asking questions about yourself and taking note of everything. He wasn’t completely obsessed with you, but he found your uniqueness interesting. He wanted to understand you.

• From then on, your relationship bloomed from there.

• Fyodor probably walks around in old European cities with you often. Even if you haven’t been to one, I can imagine that Fyodor would have the tools to bring you on a trip.

• He didn’t see it before, but he finds you pleasant to look at. Your hair, your face, your hourglass shape, he likes it all!

• He likes that you’re likely to voice your opinion. It’s certainly a respectable trait.

• Probably calls you vampire too with your family. How’d he find out you may be wondering? Well, it was probably him peaking over your shoulder and noticing a text from one of your family members calling you that.

***

Your Danganronpa THH matchup is…

Chihiro Fujisaki

• I honestly think that Chihiro might be the most ideal match for you. He finds your confident, bold, and caring personality is something the he exactly needs.

• Let’s say the killing game never was a thing and that Junko never decided to be a menace to society. You’re matched with a nondespair!AU of Chihiro. You probably met him through Mondo and Makoto when Mondo was helping Chihiro build up his physical strength.

• You met Makoto first, and upon meeting you, he felt the need to introduce you to Chihiro and of course Mondo. He thought that if Mondo helped Chihiro with physical strength, you’d help him with mental strength.

• The meetup was pretty short honestly. You and Chihiro got close from the first you two saw each other. As time went by, you guys just got closer!

• Thinks your vampire nickname is a bit strange and laughed at it first. Nonetheless, he decided he’s lightheartedly call you that a few times. And if you weren’t okay with it, expect a very panicked and heartfelt apology lol.

• Baking nights together! One time he did get a little frosting on his nose, to which you responded to that by scooping it off his nose with your index finger.

• Honestly, someone who’s tough-minded like you and more bold is perfect for someone like Chihiro. 100%!

I had a bit of trouble with Chihiro’s part but I did the best I could. Hope you enjoyed! Sorry if I missed anything but I did what I could.

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ijhyo · 2 years

Text

CHAPTER 2

what was supposed to be a fun weekend away with friends turns into a sinister game of hide and seek where their lives are on the line. trapped in a lake house cabin with only six hours on the clock, can y/n figure out who is behind the mask and manage not to get caught all before sunrise?

PAIRING. soobin x gn reader ; beomgyu x gn reader ; yeonjun x gn reader

GENRE. college au ; mystery ; thriller ; escape room ; angst ; horror ; humour

WARNINGS. swearing ; injuries ; character death ; blood ; brief description of a panic attack ; vomiting

WORD COUNT. 2.8k

A/N. part two yasss. dun dun dun do we have our first suspect 😯? this one is shorter than the first part (i think all the next ones will be now that we're done setting up the story but we'll see) but i hope you guys like it anyway and if yes, let me know what you think and all your theories if u have! also, not edited im afraid, so if there r any mistakes no there aren’t

TAGLIST. @hyukaas @xysthe @tsupuffs @ren-chib @yjwfav @mykalon @junityy @iyeonjuni @fallingforhoon @fairybinie @enhacolor @cheorei @jjhmk @acciomylove @yeonjunsgf777 @soobin-chois @chosoluvr @odxrilove @soobisms @strawbrinkofdeath @etherealcherrie @maemarahuya @1-800-ryujin @wisecheesecakecloud @fairyofshampgyu @i-haewon @cottontvil @minthicons @bettyschwallocksyee (send an ask to be added)

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Running down the hallway in the direction Lia went in, your only thought is to put as much distance between you and the seeker as possible. You don’t look back. Afraid you’ll lose your momentum.

You don’t account for stairs.

You trip on the first step, flinging you forward on the staircase.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you curse, biting your lip down to keep from screaming. You spare a glance back in the direction you came from, both relieved and scared that you see no sign of the seeker.

They are not chasing you. They could be anywhere.

Pushing yourself up, you wince at the pain that shoots up from your knees. You stretch your leg out once. It is definitely going to bruise.

Climbing the steps gingerly, you find yourself back on the main floor of the house, the staircase hidden behind a wall. Lia was here, you think breathlessly.

You turn the corner fast and walk straight into a body.

Before you can even think too long, you push the person away, hard. Stumbling back into a wall, you scramble to get away. Your heart jumps to your throat, your flight or fight kicking in.

You didn’t run away the first time, but you’ll be damned if you don’t now.

The person crowds you against the wall, placing their hands on your shoulders. They are saying something, your name you think.

You don’t know how they know that.

“Y/N. Look at me.”

You do.

It’s Soobin.

You think you are crying.

“Woah, breathe, Y/N. Breathe with me.” You follow his instructions, try to slow your breathing down in time with him. In through the nose. Focus on his. Out through the mouth. Stare at his perfect, pink lips.

A moment passes. “Are you okay?”

You haven’t stopped shaking. You think you are going to throw up. But your breath has evened out. “Yeah.”

He looks wary but doesn’t push it. Just squeezes your shoulder reassuringly. “Let’s go to the others. Some of us are hiding together.”

Soobin leads you past the stairs, in the direction Sumin ran off to when the game started. You try to protest. Try to tell him that you need to be upstairs but can’t find it in you to say anything.

You need to warn him. Tell him that there is a killer running around his house, but your tongue is made of lead. You can’t do anything except follow.

Soobin knocks on a door twice, pauses, then knocks again. He looks at you conspiratorially. “Sumin’s idea.”

The door opens from the inside and you follow the taller boy inside.

“Look who the cat dragged in,” Sumin teases when she sees you shuffle in behind Soobin. “You here to mooch off my hiding spot too?”

You can barely crack a grin.

Sumin’s hiding spot is an indoor cinema, which, what the fuck? Who just has that? In a lake house? The rest of the party goers are lounging on the chairs, seats reclined for the utmost comfort.

Wooyoung groans from where he was laying down on the floor. “Can we stop playing now?”

“It’s literally barely been an hour,” Yunho points out, kicking him slightly with his shoe.

That surprises you. It feels like hours have passed since you started playing this game and you want nothing more than for it to be over.

Looking around the room, no one has a care in the world. They are laying around, waiting for the sun to rise and the game to be over. They don’t know what you do. They don’t know what you saw.

You move to the front of the room on shaky feet.

“Y/N?” Soobin asks, reaching for your hand but you shake him off.

Clearing your throat, everyone else turns to look at you. You take a breath. “Sunghoon is dead.”

Silence.

“What?” Wooyoung asks, moving to sit upright.

“What are you talking about?” Jongho questions, voice carrying from the back of the room.

“We were hiding together and the seeker, they found us. The seeker killed him.”

“What the fuck, Y/N?” Isa exclaims, accusatory, although her voice breaks off at the end.

You just shake your head, determined to explain everything. “This game, it’s not what we thought it was. ‘Getting caught’ doesn’t just mean you’re out. You’re dead.”

You catch Soobin’s gaze. Watch as he makes the connection between what you’ve just said and how you reacted earlier. You look away.

“Hey, Soobin, what the fuck?” Sumin says, finally speaking up since you dropped the bomb on them.

His head snaps to the girl. “Excuse me?”

“This is your party!”

Wooyoung nods, agreeing. “If this is your idea of a joke it isn’t fucking funny.”

Soobin looks appalled. “Why would I do this? I told you that I didn’t plan this game before we agreed to play. I have no idea what the fuck is going on and I’m not the one behind it.”

“Well then who the fuck is?” Yunho asks and even you can tell that it’s kind of an unfair question.

“I don’t know! But whoever it is knows the house. And where the media room is…Shit.”

Jongho runs his hands down his face. “Fucking hell, man.”

Exclamations go up around the room. Everyone is yelling and pointing fingers at each other. Isa is the only one who doesn’t say anything.

She looks almost sick and your chest tightens looking at her. She was the only one here who was really friends with Sunghoon.

You feel like you should say something. Offer comfort to her. But she brushes off Sumin’s attempt and walks away on her own. It is probably for the best. You don’t know what you would have said. Sorry doesn’t feel strong enough.

You scan the room. Some of these people, you had never held conversations with before tonight, and here you were hiding from somebody who wants you all dead. But you notice there are people missing. Beomgyu, who you haven’t seen since the start of the game and, with a sinking feeling in your gut at the realisation—

Lia.

“I have to go.”

Soobin stops you by grabbing your wrist. “Wait, Y/N, what the hell? You can’t go out there—You just said that someone is trying to kill us.”

“I need to find Lia, I can’t leave her.”

His eyes widen, as if also just realising that she’s missing from the room. He curses under his breath. “I—Fuck—Look, I get that, I do, but you can’t just go back out there. I’m sure she’s fine.”

“You don’t know that.” If this where any other situation, you would probably sound childish, complaining about not being able to see your friend.

Soobin just sighs heavily, enclosing your hand in both of his and you savour the warmth. “I just…I invited you here. If something happened to you…”

“Soobin,” you say, voice impossibly soft, “this isn’t your fault. And I don’t blame you. But I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened to Lia and I didn’t do anything.”

Lia wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for you. She came for you. It should have been just you here, running for your life, but you dragged her into it. If anything had to happen to her because of that?

If something has already happened to her.

You shake your hand out of Soobin’s grip.

“I have to go.”

5 HOURS LEFT

The silence of the house scares you.

At first, you thought you were at an advantage playing in such a big house like this, but now you realise that the seeker could come from anywhere and you wouldn’t know.

You try to come up with a list of people who would want to do this, but draw a blank. You are pretty sure you don’t anybody with psychopathic tenancies.

You think about Lia and where she is and immediately try to think of something else before that turns sour.

She was fine. She had to be.

You see Soobin’s face from when you walked out of the room instead. The solemn look he gave you, like he didn’t expect you to make it back. Like he was already beating himself up over it.

You blink the image away. Sunghoon’s face just before he died, full of fear and shock, replaces it.

You resolutely decide to not think at all.

Keeping close to the walls, you slowly inspect the area and once you make sure that there is no one there, you make to run in the direction of the stairs. However, at the sound of somebody speaking, you hold yourself back and wish to melt into the wall.

“Where are you, you fucker?”

Isa.

When did she leave the screening room?

You have half a mind to run out there and drag her back here with you to shut her up. Instead, you place a hand over your mouth to stop you from making a sound.

A second voice speaks up and your breath quickens. “The point of the game is to hide. It’s not fun when I don’t get to do any seeking.” They try to sound disappointed but the voice distorter they are using makes it impossible to feel anything for them.

“You killed my friend.”

“Would you believe me if I said he walked right into my knife?” they taunt, smirk evident in their voice and you want to reveal yourself, step out there if only to punch this guy in the face.

But you are scared. God, you are so scared.

Isa curses. She grunts. Grunts again. A thud. Something heavy hits the ground. You almost scream, muffle it behind your hand.

The seeker sighs, as though bored. “Two down. You guys are making this easy for me.”

You keep a tight grip on your mouth, clamping down on your tongue hard enough that you taste the metallic tinge of blood in your mouth.

You don’t hear any footsteps so you wait. You count to one hundred in your head and then again to ten. You come out from your hiding place slowly, practically crawling on the ground.

You reach the bottom of the stairs and what you find has you stopping dead in your tracks.

There lays Isa.

Blood spills from her side and chest creating a pool around her body.

Her eyes are still open.

You can’t stop the bile that rises up your throat and retch a thin stream of vomit right next to her.

The combined smell of your sick and the blood makes your stomach churn and burns your nostrils.

Who would do this?

Tears sting your eyes as you contemplate the question but you can’t stay here. You can’t be next.

It feels wrong to just step over her, but you need to get to upstairs. There is a chance that the seeker went that way but there is a also a chance that they stayed downstairs. You don’t like those odds and a part of you just wants to run back to Soobin and hide, but you think of Lia. And force yourself on the staircase.

Crouching low, you take the steps one at a time. What once had left you in awe has frustrated, because who needs so many fucking stairs?

You reach the top eventually. The moment of truth. You look to your right, and see an empty hallway. Exhaling slightly, you turn to the left to find a masked figure standing in the hall.

And they were staring right at you.

Fuck.

You take off running.

The seeker follows.

You hear the mechanic laughter of the seeker behind you, taunting you. Your feet hit the wooden panels beneath you with so much force, the noise rattles in your head.

“You can run, but you can’t hide!” the seeker yells after you maniacally.

The right side of the upstairs area has more twists and turns than its left counterpart, allowing you to faint and confuse your chaser with which direction you are going in.

You had never been an exceptional runner, your chest burns and you feel a painful pull in your stomach, but you keep pushing.

A turn. Then another. This house is a fucking maze.

You hit a dead end. The hallway stops and even though you managed to lose the seeker, there is no doubt that they would catch up with you. And you’d be cornered.

Before you can panic, a hand shoots out from the walls and pulls you in.

You yelp, back hitting somebody’s chest and your screams muffled by the person covering your mouth with their hand.

“Shh, shh, shh, quiet,” they whisper in your ear. Reluctantly, you comply. You try to catch your bearings, slow your breathing like Soobin taught you.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, hand over your mouth, back pressed against somebody’s chest. Sweat breaks out on your upper lip. All you can hear is the sound of breathing and your heart beating in your head.

“I think they’re gone now,” the person whispers, and slowly they release their hold on you, allowing you to finally turn and see your saviour.

Beomgyu.

You release a breath. “Where are we?” The place you find yourself in is a narrow hallway, with wooden planks lining the floor beneath you.

“Secret passage in the walls. They run all through the house.”

“How do you know?”

“Found it running away from some crazy guy with a knife. I think you might know them, actually. Black cloak, looks like they’re on their way to ComicCon?” You know he’s kidding, probably doesn’t know the gravity of the situation. You can’t laugh.

“Sunghoon is dead.”

His face falls. “Oh. Shit. That’s—shit.”

You give him time to come to terms with what you’ve just told him before saying, “I need to find Lia.”

“Lia? Is she the girl you were with? She’s pretty.” You regard him with a scowl and he blanches. “What?”

“Now is not the time to call my friend pretty.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it! It was just an observation. Like, you’re pretty, too, now, I guess.”

“What do you mean now?”

“Well, you don’t have those buck teeth anymore. And you grew into your forehead, too, aww.”

“You’re so…” You never expected to be laughing in a situation like this, where your life is actively in danger and you don’t know if your best friend is safe, but this Beomgyu. He could make you laugh in the worst of situations when you were younger. Like the day you found out you were moving and he had you cracking up until your stomach hurt to distraction you.

You suppose some things never change.

“Hey, where was the last place you saw Lia?” The question snaps you back to reality.

“In the cellar. She was on her way to our room but I don’t know if she made it or went back or—”

“—Then we’ll start there.” He cuts your rambling off so swiftly you almost don’t remember what you were saying. “She’ll be fine.”

You release a breath, nodding. “Okay.”

“These passages have got to lead to the rooms, so all we have to do is follow them, and we should get there easy peasy.” Beomgyu’s simple way of making you feel better after all these years apart makes something warm bloom in your chest. You smile at him gratefully and he returns it.

“And if we don’t find her there we can always just check the cameras in the security room.” He says easily, already walking in the direction you were running from.

You, however, are frozen in place.

“What?”

“Yeah, there are cameras all over the house. Could’ve gone to check there first actually, but we’re closer to the rooms, so.”

You feel your heartbeat quicken and try to calm down. You can’t jump to conclusions. “How do you know that?”

“I’ve been here before,” he admits shrugging, like it isn’t a big deal. Like he’s commenting on the weather.

Like he didn’t disappear as soon as the game started and conveniently found secret passages and knows where the security room is.

No jumping to conclusions.

“And the media room? Do you know where that is?” You have a feeling you know the answer, but you hope you are wrong. You want to be wrong.

“Uh, yeah, I do, actually. Same floor as the security room.”

Whoever it is knows the house. And where the media room is.

Suddenly the passageway is all too small and the walls feel like they are closing in on you.

You can’t move.

“You good?” Beomgyu notices that you aren’t following, looking back at you.

You nod your head stiffly, trying to appear casual and hope you are convincing. He accepts it and turns back to the front, leading the way.

You make up your mind then: the moment you got the opportunity to, you would make a run for it. Get as far away from Beomgyu as possible.

You follow him.

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twodimecastle · 3 years

Text

fifty bucks & six months.

spencer reid x gender neutral reader new relationship, secret keeping nonsense, 4.5k words, ao3 a/n; turns out i love writing texting fic but tumblr destroys the formatting rip

zero months.

You smile conspiratorially, extending a pinkie towards Spencer and he gives you a skeptical look.

“You know the odds of being found out immediately are-” he starts, but you cut him off.

“Astronomical, I know. I know. But don’t you think it’ll be fun to see how long we can push it?” you wheedle, not caring that your voice sounds more like begging than is strictly dignified because seeing the way Spencer’s nose crinkles in amusement at your heavy handed persuasion is too adorable to pass up. You scoot closer on the couch, tapping the end of his nose with your pinkie finger, letting him catch your hand between his as you continue “I think we’ve got a good shot at hiding it for a little while. It would be like a game.”

Spencer draws your captive hand to his lips, brushing them across your knuckles and watching fondly as you forge ahead in your campaign to persuade him, enjoying the show and the attention too much to tell you he’s already on board. Your eyes are shining with the prospect of the caper, and you’ve made no move to take your hand back from him, and Spencer’s pretty sure he’d be more than happy to sit with you in this moment forever. “I mean-” you go on, gesturing animatedly with your free hand, “you’re like-a really good liar when you want to be. And everyone else always forgets how good you are at it.”

He snorts at that and the sound makes you light up, eyes tracking the arch of his brows, the warmth in his soft brown eyes, memorising the way he looks like this; utterly unbothered, completely at ease. It might be your favourite version of him, but that race has always been a tight one with no clear winner in sight. You have lots of favourite versions of Spencer. Twisting your hand in his, you tangle your fingers together, savouring the way you feel his thumb glide delicately along your skin and the unhidden joy in his face at the simple show of affection.

Time to play your trump card.

“$50 says we can hide it from the whole group for at least six months. If everyone figures it out before then, you win. But if not everyone has worked it out by then, I win.”

The mischievous shine in your eyes is irresistible, and Spencer smiles, disentangling one of his hands from yours to extend his own pinky finger.

“You’re on.”

The words barely make it out of his mouth before you’re colliding with him, pressing your lips to his.

two months.

“So, how long has this whole thing been going on?” Derek’s question catches Spencer off guard, and, based on the way he can see you freeze in his peripheral vision, takes you by surprise as well. Sliding into the driver's seat of the SUV, Derek continues “I hope you didn’t think you were gonna be able to keep me in the dark for long, pretty boy. You should know better than that.”

Following mechanically after him, Spencer takes the passenger seat, trying to frame his next statement as carefully as possible as he hears your door close and the car start. “We were-going to tell you guys-” he begins uncomfortably, glancing back to you for support, but you look just as on edge as he feels. “We were just gonna-keep it to ourselves for a while-before telling Hotch and everything-” he tries again, the mounting tension levering his shoulders higher and higher with every passing moment, but then Derek just laughs, shaking his head.

“Hey, I’m happy for you, kid. For both of you.” He spares a look at you in the back seat through the rear view mirror, and you can feel the tension in your jaw relax, the furrows in your brow straightening out at the note of approval in Derek’s voice. “I’m glad you two finally figured it out,” he says, fondly, and you laugh.

“I bet Spence we could keep it from you guys at least six months,” you explain, reaching forwards through the centre console to link your pinky with Spencer’s, and the touch of your hand releases the last of the tension he had been harbouring as he covers your hand with the other one of his own. He knows Derek clocks the motion, filing it away in his mind somewhere, but he doesn’t care about the scrutiny so much right now. Not when your hand is so warm and comfortable in his.

Derek reaches for the dial on the radio and flicks through the channel, thinking about something, and as you watch, a slow mischievous smirk spreads across his face a moment later before he glances first at Spencer and then at you.

“I’ll tell you what,” he says to you, and Spencer can feel a familiar grin tugging at his own lips as he watches a plan take shape in his friend’s eyes. “I’m happy to sit on this information for a while for a cut of the winnings from whichever one of you comes out on top.” He snorts good naturedly as he continues “I have my own bet to win with Prentiss, so if you two help me win that one, I’ll cut you in too.”

“A quid pro quo of sorts,” Spencer says slowly, and he feels your fingers tighten around his, as you snort softly, and he knows instinctually you’re grinning the same way you always do when you’re winning a game. “I think we can do that.”

Derek grins, turning the music up as he nods, eyes on the road. “Then you two love birds have got yourselves a deal.”

two months and two weeks.

PG: youre not as slick as you think you are ;)

YN: ???

PG: ;))))))))) you should invest in some concealer for your work bag sweetness or tell the good doctor to pay more attention to whats visible in your work clothes

YN: oh my fucking god wait how do you even know thats how that happened

PG: im all knowing and all seeing im like the omnipotent goddess of the fbi

YN: derek blabbed

PG: he sang like a canary but also im an omnipotent goddess im also totally clued in on the whole bet situation with em so for the low low price of every single juicy detail about how this adorableness went down you can buy my silence :)

YN: im getting derek decaf coffee on all coffee runs from now on >:( traitors dont get caffeine

PG: darling sweet angel i need deets all of them like immediately

YN: >:( fine ok so. after that case down in georgia a few months ago? the weird one? with the creepy mother son thing?

PG: omg yuck pls dont remind me im here for the CUTENESS not the MURDER

YN: sorryyyyyyy anyway so spence was like being super weird about it all on the plane and whatever but he was doing that super annoying thing where he ignores it and says hes fine so everyone leaves him alone

PG: YEAH why does everyone here do that ALL THE TIME its SO annoyingggg

YN: ikr its insufferable and like super not subtle ANYWAY. spence was being weird and whatever and i just. refused to let him sulk on his own or whatever like i could tell there was something bothering him and so after work i insisted that we were gonna get like shitty diner food or whatever and watch a movie and he knows better than to say no to me

PG: smart boy

YN: so we got fries and milkshakes and then went back to his place to watch a movie and he was still like weird and silent and like brooding yknow? but whatever just figured hed talk about it when he was ready so i put on a movie and offered to make popcorn and then he was just staring at me and he looked so SAD and TIRED and i thought id done something wrong like the poor guy looked like he was gonna cry and i was panicking over fucking popcorn and then he says ‘why are you always so nice to me?’

PG: oh my god hes like if a sad victorian orphan was actually a triplicate phd holder

YN: i was SO thrown off i was like spencer. spencer were best friends. ive been forcing you to hang out with me for years now why do you THINK im being nice to you its bc i care about you asshole and then. like after another million years after letting me sweat it out over whether hes about to cry for like fucking years the asshole grabs my hand and says. i shit you not. ‘you know im in love with you, right?’ !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

PG: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YN: anyway hes my boyfriend now :’) dont tell anyone tho gotta win the bet

four months.

Lingering by the elevator, you glance around at the uncharacteristically silent office building, waiting for Spencer to leave the bullpen. The sound of his footfalls drawing nearer makes you smile and you mentally applaud yourself for suggesting the two of you remained behind after disembarking from the plane, taking advantage of the manufactured privacy to take the same car home, back to his apartment.

When he sees you waiting for him, he can’t help the soft fond smile that tugs at his face, as he reaches for your hand, sliding his fingers into yours with a gentle squeeze, the quiet of the building allowing him to indulge in the show of affection. You return the squeeze, leaning your head on his shoulder with a yawn and as he presses a fond kiss to your temple he’s rewarded by a sleepy hum of approval from you that sends a rush of quiet joy shooting through him.

“At least we won’t be sleeping in hotel beds again tonight,” you say, voice weary, and Spencer nods as he shuffles you into the elevator. The doors slide shut and the elevator starts to move and in the moment of absolute privacy, you steal a kiss, tilting your chin up to catch his lips with yours, revelling in the soft huff of surprise he lets out, even as he smiles against your mouth. Even after months, the simple act of kissing Spencer still feels new and thrilling somehow, like you can’t quite believe it’s something you’re allowed to do.

His nose brushes yours and he breathes “unless something big comes up, we get a sleep in tomorrow too,” and the way you beam at him sends his heart racing in his chest, unable to look away from the fondness shining in your eyes.

As the two of you exit the elevator and make your way through the Bureau car park, you tuck yourself against his side, wedging yourself under his arm with a happy sigh, eager to get yourself horizontal and asleep as fast as possible. Spencer brushes his lips against your temple again as the two of you close in on his car, almost free and clear of the office when a voice behind the two of you brings you up short.

“Reid?”

Spencer is reacting before his mind catches up, turning on his heel towards the sound of Hotch’s voice echoing through the parking lot, conscious of the incriminating way you’re still tucked against his side, even as his brain is rifling frantically through any possible excuses for the current circumstances.

“Hotch-” you step away from Spencer, cheeks flaming, not wanting to chance a look at him. “I-we-thought everyone else had gone home,” you trail off lamely, trying your hardest not to balk under Hotch’s ominously impassive scrutiny. A second passes, then another, and the short silence feels like months, or years even as the three of you stand locked in a stalemate.

“I take it the two of you would prefer to keep this under wraps?” He asks, finally, and it registers with Spencer, somewhat belatedly, that Hotch’s tone isn’t admonishing. It isn’t enough to dissipate the tension coiling in Spencer’s muscles just yet, but he spares a glance at you as he nods, and a moment later, Hotch gives the two of you a curt nod of his own. “I’ll tell you what,” he says, a shade of irony colouring his voice. “If you two fill out the paperwork for in-team relationships for me, I’ll keep it to myself. I understand privacy is hard to come by in our office.”

The words take a while to fully sink in, and you’re conscious that you’re standing there blinking and gaping at your boss like a bemused fish for a good few seconds before you’ve composed yourself enough to say “absolutely, sir. Of course. Thank you.”

Hotch nods again, heading towards his own car, and as he passes the two of you, a brief smile flashes across his face.

“Congratulations, you two. Get some sleep.”

four months and three weeks.

Spencer isn’t sure how late it is, but he knows you’re not asleep yet, the faint glow of your phone screen casting faint distorted shadows across his room as your free hand rests lightly on his chest. In the dark blue twilight of his room, the space feels undefined and dream like somehow, the line between his mind and his surroundings blurry or indistinct somehow, and as you huff out a near silent laugh at something on the screen in your hand, a thought rises to the surface of his thoughts like flotsam on an unwanted tide.

The more clinical part of his mind notes the autonomic response in his body, the way his heart lurches unpleasantly in his chest, heart rate rising with an influx of cortisol through his nervous system, automatically rifling through ways to control the anxiety response. Age old instinct surges forwards, starting to push his spiralling anxiety down out of sight so as not to bother you with it, but then your hand shifts infinitesimally on his chest, fingers curling in the soft fabric of his pyjama shirt, and for once his body is miles ahead of his brilliant mind, your name is leaving his lips before he’s really aware of it happening.

Your gaze flashes up from your phone at the sound of his voice, soft and hesitant, and you let the screen go dark as you set it down. You can feel Spencer’s heart hammering against his ribs under your palm, and your brows knit together in concern as you shift closer to his side, tracing gentle circles over his shirt with your fingertips, the repetitive motion intended to soothe, though you’re not sure if it’s for his benefit or yours.

“Yeah, baby?” You ask softly, working hard to keep the rising worry from your voice. After three years of friendship and almost six months of dating, you know him well enough to sense when his propensity for overthinking and catastrophizing is slipping out of his control. You can feel his chest rise as he inhales sharply, whatever he’s about to say cut off by second guessing, doing nothing to pacify your concern. “Spence? Is everything okay?” You ask again.

“This-bet-hiding our relationship-it’s-” he trails off, throat tight as he rolls onto his side, facing away from you, and smushing his face into the pillow, already wishing he hadn’t said anything. You’re the kindest person he’s ever met, but offering up this kind of raw insecurity feels like pulling teeth. Even if it’s you. Especially if it’s you. He doesn’t know if he’s ready to find out if you care about him enough to stay when his racing mind gets the better of him. The pillow muffles his voice as he says “never mind.”

You feel your own heart rate tic up in response to that, matching the wild beat of Spencer’s that you could feel under your palm only a second ago. “Baby, talk to me. What’s on your mind?”

He shakes his head, face still hidden in the pillow. “It’s stupid.”

He can feel the rush of your breath on his back as you sigh, and your voice is almost achingly patient as you say softly “it’s not stupid if it matters to you.” There’s a long pause, and you press yourself against his back, settling close and letting your hand slide over his side to rest on his chest, the heat of his skin sinking into yours even through his thin shirt. In spite of his height, he feels so small as you wrap yourself around him, drawing closer, trying to reassure him without yet knowing what he needs to be reassured of. “Spence?”

“Are you ashamed of-being with me? Is that why you want to hide it?” The words are almost whispered, the sound almost lost against his pillow and your heart sinks, plummeting faster and further than if you’d dropped it off the side of a skyscraper. You should’ve known he might worry about that, should have realised it might have felt that way. Remorse rises hot and bitter in your throat and you swallow it down, trying to steady your voice.

“Spencer. Sweetheart. No. Never. I could never be ashamed. I love you. I’m so sorry.” Your arms wrap more tightly around him and you bury your face against the crook of his neck, the tension you can feel in every inch of his body making you feel more cruel and short-sighted than you already do. “I’m sorry I didn’t realise it might feel like that. I could never be ashamed of being with you, Spence. You’re my favourite person.” He takes the kind of shaky, shallow breath that comes with trying not to cry and your heart breaks a little more as one of his hands slowly moves to cover yours where it rests against his chest, just over his heart.

As his hand rests over yours, his thumb strokes lightly along your knuckles, and he knows you know him well enough to notice the way his hand trembles, just a little, because then your hand is shifting against his, turning to clumsily tangle your fingers with his, holding tighter to him as he tries to collect himself, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath as his eyes squeeze shut. He can hear the contrition in your voice as you say softly “I’ve never really liked having people know everything about what’s going on in my life. And I love our friends but-something like this, that’s so-special? So new? I wanted to be able to keep it to just us for a while.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice comes out a little shaky, scarcely more than a whisper, and it’s more than you can take as you pull back and gently force him to roll over to face you. He’s not crying, but his eyes are glassy and you recognise the fight to keep the tears unshed in the tight set of his jaw and the hard line of his lips. Leaning on your elbow, you lift your free hand to gently smooth out the furrows of his brow, letting your fingers linger along the planes of his face.

“Why are you sorry,” you ask gently. “You don’t need to be sorry, baby. Not for talking to me about things that bother you. We can tell everyone else tomorrow, if you want? We can call off the bet. Derek will live. If he’s got a problem with it I’ll turn all his shirts into crop tops.”

He can tell the joke is a last bid attempt to make him smile, to ease his fear, and it works. In spite of the anxious weight in his chest that feels like it’s pressing him into the mattress, Spencer laughs weakly, meeting your eyes, and he watches as a relieved smile breaks across your face, releasing your lower lip from where you’d trapped it worriedly between your teeth. The unmitigated affection that floods into your eyes renders him momentarily breathless as he takes in the moment. You’re still here, still trying to take care of him. Just as kind and steadfast as ever.

“No,” he says eventually, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you down on top of him like a living weighted blanket, letting your warmth chase the bulk of the tension from his body and luxuriating in the way you curl into him, one hand sliding into his hair. “We shouldn’t call off the bet. We still have to take Emily’s money, remember?”

Your sleepy laugh is the last thing he hears before his eyes close and the feel of your body wound around his lulls him to sleep.

five months.

SR: Can I talk to you about something?

DM: you dying or something? that’s a really fuckin ominous text to recieve out of the blue

SR: I’m not dying, why would that be what you assumed? I just have a question.

DM: just a figure of speech but what’s up?

SR: It’s about your bet with Emily. What’re the terms for it?

DM: wym?

SR: What exactly did you two make the bet about? What needs to happen in order for you to win the bet?

DM: does this count as collusion?

SR: Technically yes, but calling it collusion implies a certain degree of illegality.

DM: whatever anyway the terms i made with em were that you’d make some kind of move before your birthday but she reckoned you were gonna need some kind of near death experience to do anything about your crush why?

SR: I’m just making sure I have all the information.

DM: what’s going on pretty boy? you planning something?

SR: Maybe.

DM: not a helpful answer reid is everything good?

SR: Everything’s fine. We’re just figuring some stuff out. Nothing to worry about.

DM: is there something you’re not telling me?

SR: Don’t worry about it.

five months, three weeks and six days.

In the chaos that was the scramble from the briefing room to the jet, you haven’t yet had the chance to speak to Spencer about the outcome of his most recent thesis defence panel. By the time you’ve got a moment to breathe, the jet is underway, coasting across the country towards Montana, the whole team settled in for the six hour flight. You corner him in the tiny kitchen area of the jet as he’s making a mug of mediocre coffee, fingers tapping out an absent minded rhythm on the countertop as the coffee machine whirs, clearly not paying attention to anything outside of his head.

“Hey, boy genius.” He jumps, whirling around, eyes wide with surprise, and you smile fondly. “So?” You demand, and Spencer raises an eyebrow in confusion. You snort, rolling your eyes as you elaborate. “Your defence panel. Did it go okay?”

You’re shifting your weight and fidgeting restlessly with the belt loops on your pants and as he studies you for a moment, it occurs to Spencer that you’re nervous for him over this outcome. The thought brings an almost giddy smile to his face.

“You know this isn’t my first thesis defence panel, right?” He says mildly, deliberately burying the lede, enjoying the way you scowl in irritation too much to answer your question right away, too enamoured with this display of concern on his behalf.

“Don’t be difficult, Doctor Reid. It’s still a big deal.” He just shrugs noncommittally, and you huff, swatting his arm lightly. “So did it go well?” You ask again, eyes narrowing as you try to dissect his microexpressions, trying to discern the answer he seems determined to keep from you for yourself. A few seconds later, he relents.

“I can now add degree number six to my wall.” He confirms. Getting degrees doesn’t hold the same rush of pride for him now, the accomplishment feeling somewhat less exceptional as he acquires more of them, but the way your face lights up with pride for him reminds him how special the things he’s capable of can be. You’ve always made him feel like more than the sum of his parts somehow, like something infinitely more precious than he always assumed he is.

“I fucking knew it. That’s amazing, Spence,” you say, chest warm and full with pride and love, and his almost shy smile in return is enough to make a decision for you in a split second. Your hand dips into your back pocket, drawing something out, and you carefully hide it from view in your palm as Spencer tracks the motion curiously with his eyes.

Your eyes are shining with affection and something that looks like mischief and the way you’re smiling at him is more than enough to divert his attention as you step closer, just barely noticing as you slip something into his hand. You’re dangerously, distractingly close now, and he’s conscious, if somewhat distantly, that neither of you is concealed from the rest of the team, scant meters away in the seating area of the jet. But you’re smiling and close enough for him to feel your breath on his face and suddenly your lips are on his, and even after nearly seven months of being able to touch you like this, it’s enough to make him forget everything else as he melts into the contact, savouring the warmth of your skin and the faint smell of your shampoo.

You pull back a second later, the kiss over almost as soon as it started, but it’s enough to attract attention, and you can hear a belated ‘oh SHIT’ from Emily in the main cabin of the jet. In your peripheral vision, you can see money changing hands, your friends scrambling to react, but you don’t look at them, choosing to enjoy the bemused, affectionate look on Spencer’s face as his brain catches up to the events unfolding around the two of you.

“I was tired of keeping it a secret,” you say fondly, loud enough only for him to hear. “You win.”

Blinking in confusion, he finally tears his gaze away from yours, fingers uncurling to reveal the fifty dollar bill you had pressed into his palm right before you kissed him. The penny drops and he snorts with laughter, shaking his head in half hearted indignation as his other arm loops around you, pulling you in, letting you rest your head on his shoulder, hiding your face from the rest of the team as he kisses your temple, revelling in the way you wind yourself around him in response.

“I was gonna do this in like two days. I wanted you to win,” he murmurs against your hairline, and he can feel your faint laughter.

“Too bad, baby. I’m used to getting my way,” you say, pulling back to steal another quick kiss before peeling yourself out of his arms with a wink, turning to face the onslaught of ‘care to fucking explain that’ and ‘I fucking told you so’ from the rest of your friends, tugging him with you by your joined hands.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid/you #spencer reid/reader #reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #dr spencer reid #my writing #spencer reid fluff

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plutonianrising · 3 years

Text

the waiting game n.k.

pairing: nanami kento x f!reader

wc: 2.9k

description: reader has a knack for weaseling her way out of trouble but today nanami's knots are tied tight

a/n: this is incredibly self-indulgent im not sorry though

cw: f!reader, dom!namami, bratty reader, kink exploration, shibari, edgeplay, subspace, degradation, red/yellow/green light system, pwp

MINORS DNI PLS

“Your lack of impulse control is still pretty astonishing though,” Nanami cocks an eyebrow at you. “I doubt you could actually handle holding an orgasm off for 10 minutes let alone 45.”

You work to manage the urge to argue over him and prove his point. Calmly, with the most pleasant smile you could muster, you say ��that’s what you’re here for. I promise to tell you when I’m close. Every time. Promise.”

He’s still skeptical of how seriously you’d take this. It’s hard to believe in you when you’re playing with your fingers behind your back and have a familiar wicked glint in your eyes. You had a knack for saying you’d listen well and then changing your mind halfway, opting to get your way just a little bit even if it meant punishment. Still, the sight of you begging for mercy is always a welcome one and the thought of it already makes his pulse jump.

“Alright. But I’m putting some precautions in place.” Nanami tells you. You purse your lips, already feeling like he’s set the game on hard mode.

“Whaaat kind of precautions?” You inquire, squinting.

“I’m restraining you so you can’t touch. This is a good time to start breaking that bad habit. Don’t you think so?” He smiles conspiratorially. It dawns on you now that you shouldn’t have come in so hot, boldly suggesting 45 minutes during your first real attempt at it. “Go ahead and sit on the bed and wait for me. I’m going to freshen up and get everything ready.”

Nanami sends you off with a searing kiss and a smack on your ass that leaves you giggling as you head to his bedroom. It’s small moments like these that you can’t help but wish for more of. The speed in which you pack your bags to sleep over whenever he has even a little bit of time off would be embarrassing if he were anyone else. But he’s Nanami and here, for your eyes only, Kento gets to fully be himself. Goofier than he’ll ever let on and a very specific brand of annoying that means he’s incredibly dependable but also eats your desserts while commenting on how they were much too sweet for him.

When he’s back in the room you’re already undressed and sitting at the edge of the bed. The perfect picture of obedience with your hands clasped in your lap as you patiently waited for his return. He’s half dressed in a tight shirt and boxer briefs that show off his toned leg muscles. In his hands is a smooth black rope. His eyes seem to glow with hunger as he takes you in.

This isn't the first time he’s used these ties on you. You can still remember the tingle of excitement that shot through you after finding out that bondage was one of his favorite kinds of play. Even outside of the sexual aspect of it, he’s making it one of yours. It’s a loving act. One full of devotion and precise calculation. There’s always complete and utter focus in his eyes as he slides the rope against your skin. His work is neat and even, with your safety at top priority. With a rope wound tight enough to bite your flesh and steal your breath if you fought too hard, you give Nanami your full trust. And once he has it, he has the power to make you feel like a masterpiece. You’re reminded of this power as he caresses his work. Rope winds around your torso with a slight emphasis on your arms. Soon enough your arms are crossed and caged against your chest. Nanami tugs the final knot at the center of it and stares into your eyes as you try to keep your composure.

“How does it feel?” He whispers and you think that he must know that it feels perfect. You curse the way he wets his lips and smirks slightly.

He must have a book hiding somewhere.

“It feels good Kento.” You whisper, wriggling around a bit as he then spreads your knees apart. Nanami hums in satisfaction.

“Relax for me.” He says, reminding you to keep you still as he presses down on your thigh, strong hands deftly moving to immobilize your left leg with the black rope in a frogtie.

“How am I supposed to do that?” You complain, still squirming as his touch warms your skin. Have his hands always been so large, his touch so insistent?

“Or don’t. But it’ll be your skin rubbed raw after. Not mine.” Nanami warns. “My best work only comes from your cooperation. Remember?”

You huff but keep your thoughts to yourself. Instead you focus on the tight muscles of Nanami’s arms rippling under his shirt. He knots your right leg, and you flush at how stretched apart you are. Your only source of modesty comes from your hands covering your chest and they flex and unflex as your head starts to catch up with what happens next. You kick yourself for agreeing to being tied up, wanting nothing more than to touch him. You take your lips between your teeth slightly as you catch his gaze raking down your figure. Nanami slowly runs a few fingers over you. He travels upward from your bare thighs past your hips and traces feather soft patterns on your stomach. You can’t help the way your legs twitch when he finally dips his fingers lower and presses against your pussy, stroking you.

“Give me a color sweetheart.”

“Green.” You whimper. “Please kiss me.” Nanami seems to consider it for a moment but removes his touch completely from you instead.

“Be good for me and you’ll get as much of me as you want.”

“Don’t you think you should start the clock before you get me all riled up?” You protest as he places the bullet vibrator and a spare pillow in between your legs, the toy nuzzled snug right against your clit. “I deserve a fair chance.”

“Oh so now you’re the only one allowed to cheat and bend rules?” He quips with a teasing smile. You have no retort for that but mostly because Kento has turned on the vibrator. Your hips buck against the toy and pillow on impulse at the abruptness and you glare at Nanami who shushes you and begins to speak over the quiet buzz.

“Since it’s your first time edging we’ll start with 25 minutes, starting now. Whenever you get close you need to tell me. And if you cum before you’ve gotten permission then that’ll just have to be it until my next off weekend.”

“Your… next weekend off?” You would’ve screamed if half of your attention wasn’t on the powerful vibrations sending pleasure ricocheting through your body. “We don’t even.. Know.. when that is.”

“I know right? I would hate to leave my love desperate for so long with no clear end in sight just because she couldn’t commit to something she asked for in the first place.” Nanami fakes a pout and you want to bite him. It was bad enough he was threatening to really make you wait so long to touch him without bringing your pride into it.

Nanami watches the way your lips part and pupils dilate as you struggle to remain in control of your reactions. Your hips jump every so often, the rope biting into the soft flesh of your legs. When your soft moans begin escalating and you look to him desperately, trying to decide for yourself if you can handle anymore, it takes more strength than he’d like to admit to not touch himself at the sight of you. He makes the decision for you, and your head lolls a bit as you try to catch your break.

The waves of your demise creep up on you quicker after that. Again and again Kento brings you right to the edge, turning up the intensity of the vibrator after each break he allows you in between.

“I can’t- Kento I’m-” You moan, your voice crescendoing and your eyes screwing shut. You can’t help the way you rock against the pillow even after the vibrator stops and the orgasm that had built within you started to fade.

“Who told you that you could hump the pillow? That’s a pretty pathetic attempt at trying to get what you want.” Nanami chides from his seat.

Your face heats in embarrassment and you avert your eyes a bit. “It wasn’t on purpose.”

“Doesn’t that make it worse?” He laughs cruelly and lets his eyes rake over your body. “Filthy little slut can’t even control her own body?”

Kento gets up and comes closer, placing a gentle hand on your thigh. His touch was soft, but it was a reminder of the kind of damage he could inflict.

“Stop. Moving.” He warns you coolly, dark eyes narrowing. His ever-deepening well of patience was scary at times but right now you’re grateful for the mercy, needing chance after chance to prove you could make it.

It’s gotten to the point that the lightest of touches make you feel like you’ll succumb and let all your hard work go to waste. You’re almost thankful your nipples are off the table for this play.

“Kento- Kento please I really am gonna-” You whimper, your chest heaving. You feel like any more of this and you’ll start drooling.

“You won’t.” Kento answers.

The commanding bass of his voice makes your senses jump and you panic, barely managing to yelp out another “Kento please” and feel the toy shut off before you’re sent careening off the edge. Your muscles feel tight and your skin sweaty by this point. You can’t tell if Kento is more focused on the heaving of your chest or the way your fingers flex and unflex to try and alleviate the strain of keeping your focus.

“God..how long has it-” You try to speak once it feels like you can breathe a bit again. Nanami smirks at the way your head lolls to one side and your eyes lazily work to focus on him.

“You’ve officially hit 20 minutes, sweetheart. Only 5 more to go.”

“Do you realize how fucking drenched you are baby?” He smirks, pulling your pussy apart slightly to get a better look. “Makes me want to forget all about this and make you fall apart with my tongue a few times. You’d like that, wouldn't you?”

“Don’t.. Don’t say that. The rule is I can’t for another 5.” You force yourself to remember and steel your resolve. You know he’s really just testing you at this point, seeing if you’ll break under his pressure.

“Good girl” He purrs, soothing the small pout off your lips with distracting kisses on your thighs. “The more you control yourself the more I know I can trust you.”

You so badly want him to trust you. Looking down at Kento spoil you while teetering on the edge makes you dizzy. He could tell you to do anything at this point and you’d probably listen if it meant he would indulge you more. Your head swims with the possibility that he’ll treat you like this again if you do well.

Nanami moves aside the pillow and vibrator, replacing the toy with his own hand before you can get upset with him. The gasp that escapes you fills him with pride. All it takes is a slight touch to make your body completely tremble. You can’t actually tell that the alarm has gone off until he whispers how well you’ve done for him.

“See? Didn’t I tell you good girls get everything they want? Now you get to cum all over my fingers all you want.”

Your body is almost afraid to finally let go, so used to feeling coiled up tight that you feel like you might not be able to. Kento senses the struggle within you and softens his touch to bring down the intensity for you just a bit.

“You did it, you deserve this sweetheart.” He presses open-mouthed kisses up your neck, knowing full well the onslaught of praise would send you over. Sure enough, a noise from deep inside of you wells up in your throat as you’re sent crashing over the edge. You throw your head back and try to close your legs only to be stopped by Nanami’s hands, hell-bent on making you ride it out. Your hands clench borderline painfully, your arms testing your restraints. You can’t even plead with him. The pleasure erupting from you, for once, has stolen your voice.

Testing the water, Kento lets a bit of spit fall from his lips. You catch it on your tongue, staring at him lovingly with hazy, unfocused eyes and he almost loses his mind.

“There’s my sweet girl.” He purrs. Nanami knows you’ll be completely compliant now, dredging through subspace. You won’t be giving any coherent remarks outside of anything he commands of you now, all resistance and witty one-liners fading to static in your mind. “Been so good for me today that I actually get to reward you.”

You whine in appreciation. Chest swelling with pride, you bask in his praise. You initially thought it was more fun to see his eyes turn icy when you spent a half a session acting up in order to get punished into this headspace but you could get used to having Nanami painstakingly coax it out of you.

“Tell me your color, my love.” Nanami kisses your forehead, to remind you, first and foremost, that he doesn’t want anything if it doesn’t mean you and he are sharing the pleasure, even if you could only think about how good you wanted to make him feel.

“Green.. hehe..definitelyygreen.” Your words slightly slurred together as you tried to prove your focus.

“So, sweetheart, what do you want me to give you in return?” He leans down and whispers in your ear, rubbing your thighs soothingly. You have to think for a moment to actually get the words out, trying to get your brain to be more specific than Kento, Kento, Kento.

“Wantt… want to touch you.. And I… want you inside.” You strain against your ties, not even minding the slight bite of the ropes at this point if it meant he would free you faster.

Nanami lets you place ardent kisses against his skin as he undoes the restraints on your arms and you're thankful to finally, finally, get some contact with him. His skin burns with desire as you pull him onto you. He has half a mind to really pry another orgasm from you with his head between your thighs but the growing ache between his expels the thought. He hastily twists out of his clothes and back onto you. You’ve waited long enough for what’s yours.

Nanami enters you slowly, softly pulling your still-tied legs further apart. You will your eyes not to screw shut, trying to put forth some effort to meet his searing gaze. Neither of you really register the way your nails slightly dig into his forearms from the pressure. The pace Kento sets is torturous. He makes you savor every roll of his hips into yours. It almost feels like he’s squeezing the pleasure out of you. There’s nowhere to run. There’s only him.

There’s no warning when you cum again, your body completely bypassing your brain in the decision. It’s a rush of heat and an uncontrollable tremble. You can barely even recognize your own voice calling out his name. As you squeeze tighter around him, Nanami grunts and wills himself not to bend your legs forward and fuck hard into you until you’re a teary mess. There will be other times for that. Today he just wants to spoil his sweet girl for her efforts to please.

“Where do you want me to cum?” He asks, like he’s not literally fucking the words right out of your brain. If you still had the energy for it you’d bite him.

“Kento please. In...inside… ” Obviously. You keep that snide bit to yourself. There’s no real desire to sass him when he’s making your body shake this badly.

Kento grabs onto your wrists like he’s anchoring himself to you. Through the haze dusting your mind you register his pace getting sloppier and the soft moans that fall from his lips as he finishes inside of you.

It took a bit for Kento’s strength to return to him and a little while longer to pry his eyes off of your blissed out expression. He whispered for you to let go of him so he could take care of you. Shushing your whines, he pries your fingers off of him so he can untie you. He still needs to run the bath and start some tea for you and if he spends any more time in your arms he would fall asleep right next to you without properly performing his duties.

Once he’s back from prepping, Nanami lifts you from the bed and begins to carry you to the bathroom, kissing your forehead and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. With your head clearing slightly, you can fully feel the effects of your win on your ego.

With hooded lids and a proud smirk plastered on your lips you say, “is it too late to add a shopping trip to my rewards?”

#nanami kento #nanami smut #jujutsu kaisen fic #nanami x y/n #nanami x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #nanami jujutsu kaisen #micco.fics

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headheartbellarke · 3 years

Text

JEALOUS | Luke Patterson

Requested by anon: “5 times Luke gets jealous and one time he doesn’t have too. Luke x reader?”

PAIRING(s): Mercer!fem reader x Luke Patterson WARNING(s): angst, fluff WORDS: 2.3k SUMMARY: Five times Luke Patterson gets jealous and one time he doesn’t have to.

A/N: hi! sorry this took so long, lol. school sucks. :/ i promise im gonna be posting more frequently from now onwards! anyway, decided to make y/n alex’ sister, bc i’ve been wanting to try it for a while. hope u like it!! <3 also, song used is carry me by kygo ft. julia michaels.

The first time that Luke Patterson feels that scorching, smoldering rage in the pit of his stomach is when he notices Y/N Mercer stare at his bandmate, Bobby Wilson, for the entirety of their hour-long Literature class.

At first, he doesn’t understand why he feels this way: Y/N’s just as much Bobby’s friend as she is his. Well, not really – Luke likes to believe that he is the one that she is closest to in the band, other than her brother, Alex, of course. Sure, Bobby and Y/N are friends – they say ‘hi’ when they pass by each other in the hallway, she helps him out with his Physics homework when he asks, and he asks her how her day’s been – that sort of friends. They’ve never really interacted more than it was required, and Luke knows that if Bobby wasn’t a part of their band, Sunset Curve, or if Y/N wasn’t their drummer’s sister, those two wouldn’t be friends.

Anyway, he thinks that maybe it’s because they are supposed to be partners, working on their assignment together – and instead, she is choosing to abandon him and stare at one of his best mates, instead. He thinks that maybe he’s mad because she promised him that she would help him out with this assignment, which is particularly hard, and now, it feels like he’s ditching her.

Instead of thinking about why he is so bothered at the fact that Y/N is staring at Bobby, Luke chooses to elbow her instead.

“What?” She whispers, a blush covering her cheeks.

“Can you focus?” He snaps as she rolls her eyes and opens their textbook.

“You’re annoying.”

“Alex, Alex, Alex!”

“Luke, I’m sitting right beside you – you don’t need to yell.”

“There’s something that you should know.” Luke whispers, conspiratorially. Alex, who’s sitting beside him on the couch in the garage where they rehearse, leans forward, intrigued. “What?”

He points at Y/N, who’s sitting in front of Reggie in the opposite side of the room, strumming a guitar – Reggie’s teaching her how to play. Unlike her twin brother, she’s not naturally gifted in music, which is pretty evident from her occasional frustrated huffs, and the obviously off-key tune. Rather, science is her talent, and has always been. The top spot in their class has been permanently occupied by her ever since their first exam as freshmen.

“She!” Luke whispers. Alex furrows his brows. “Yes, I know that she has no musical talent whatsoever –”

“No, no, no. I mean, yes, she doesn’t have that – but you wanna know what she does?”

“I have a feeling that you’re gonna tell me even if I don’t wanna know.” Alex mutters.

“She has a crush on Bobby!” Luke scrunches his face, a disgusted look taking over.

The drummer raises his brows and bursts out laughing. “Really, dude?”

“No, no, no, I’m not lying, okay! I’ve seen her stare at him!”

He raises his brows. “So? She stares at a lot of people.”

“It wasn’t that way, okay? Last week, in class, she was ignoring me and staring at him. Plus, yesterday, when you were god knows where, she and Bobby were having a conversation. An actual conversation! I’ve never seen them talk that much. They were nerding out over Star Wars!”

“Dude, are you…” Alex pauses, looking around, “… jealous?” A smile spreads over his features.

Luke’s eyes widen, and he looks horrified. “What? Me? Jealous? Huh? Me? How?”

Inside, he is panicking. He hadn’t considered this possibility. Is he jealous? No, that can’t be. Y/N – he’s known her forever, and he is supposed to think of her as his sister. He does think so. He’s sure. He can’t – he doesn’t like her. She’s just… Y/N. Sure, he’s always thought that she’s beautiful. And smart. And so, so kind. He’s always admired her. OK, he might have had a little crush on her. But, in a totally harmless, admiring way! (In the way everyone seems to like Winona Ryder these days. Nothing more than that. Absolutely.)

She’s just Y/N.

Y/N, who’s always there for him after he has a bad day. Y/N, who’s the first person he hugs after playing an intense show. Y/N, who’s the only person who can understand his silence. Y/N, who makes sure that he knows that she appreciates him. Y/N, who he knows like the back of his hand.

Before Luke can panic any further, Bobby enters the garage, and Luke notices her attention immediately shift toward him. They exchange a smile, and Luke feels that rage, yet again.

He falls back on the couch, locking eyes with Alex, who is silently watching with a soft smile on his face.

“I’m not jealous.” He says weakly, and Alex nods – but he knows that it doesn’t convince either of them. His friend lays a hand on his shoulder, whispering, “It’s okay.”

By the time the next month rolls around, Luke is positive that he’s jealous: so, he’s resorted to not thinking about it, her or even interacting with her – which is hard considering that she’s always around.

Now, he feels like shit. For their junior year, they are supposed to do a report on a Victorian era novel of their choice, with a partner. He and Y/N were supposed to partners – they had decided months ago and have also done previous assignments together. But now, since he hasn’t even dared to look at her in a month, she’s now doing the report with Bobby, of all people.

As he watches Bobby and Y/N sit next to each other with their arms brushing, he feels that rage again, and curses himself. Could he not have behaved like a normal person? He knows that she is confused as to why he’s suddenly ignoring and avoiding her – she has even asked her brother about it. But Luke had threatened Alex that he would tell everyone about his crush on Reggie if he even said a single syllable.

(Although Luke knows that he would never.)

He sighs, dramatically, and searches for someone else to pair up with, ignoring the way his heart clenches at the realization that he may be losing her.

“Luke?”

He looks up and feels a rush in his veins.

“Are you… mad at me?” Y/N asks tentatively, standing at the door to his bedroom. Her eyes keep flitting between his face and around his bedroom, and he hates the fact that there seems to be an ocean between them.

“Uh…” He scratches the back of his neck, not knowing what to respond. She looks down at her feet, biting her lip and Luke feels a tug on his heartstrings at that. It’s been so, so long and he has so, so much to tell her, but he doesn’t know how to bridge the gap that he created.

He builds up his courage and says, “Yeah. I was kinda mad at you.”

Her eyebrows furrow, and panic flows into her e/c eyes. “What – what’d I do?”

Luke inhales sharply and wonders what he’s gonna say. It’s not like he can say that he was jealous of the fact that she liked Bobby, nor could he say that in the past month he has realized the fact that he may have a tiny, little crush on her and had to avoid her at all costs because she will never like him back and it’s too embarrassing?

He clears his throat. “Uh. It’s because you promised that you would do the English project with me but you’re doing it with Bobby.”

“But I’m only doing it with him because you won’t even look at me! Why won’t you?”

“I… You also ignored me for Bobby the other day?”

She throws her hands up. “What other day?”

“When we were working on the Shakespeare thingy!”

“I was not – now you’re making –”

“Forget it. Just go home, Y/N.”

A look of hurt flashes over her eyes, but she quickly clenches her jaw, and stands straighter, masking her emotions. “Asshole.”

She walks out his door, slamming the door shut behind her.

For the rest of the day, Luke lies on his bed and stares at his ceiling, and when Reggie comes over, he tells him that he’s ruined everything. Reggie lies beside him and asks softly, “You okay?”

“I think I like Y/N.” He whispers.

“We know.”

His lips part and he says in disbelief, “Alex told you?!”

Reggie shrugs. “He didn’t need to. Everyone can see the way that you look at her.”

Luke sighs, too tired to argue.

“Hey. It’s just a date, alright? It’s not like they’re getting married.”

Luke props himself on his elbow. “What?”

“Y’know, Y/N’s really picky –”

“What date?”

Reggie’s eyes widen. “Y-You didn’t know?”

Luke raises his brows, urging his friend to continue. He purses his lips and says, “Y/N and Bobby are on a date right now.”

Instantly, Luke feels as if his world has drained of every colour. Reggie looks uncomfortable, and whispers, “I thought you knew.”

“I, uh, I didn’t. Obviously.” He whispers, falling back on the bed again. His heart physically hurts, and he can feel tears prick at the back of his eyes. Mostly, he feels anger – at himself, and regret.

As jealousy claws its way to the surface, Luke mutters, “I hate Bobby.”

Luke sits cross legged on the floor of the garage, with a Spanish guitar perched on his lap. His hands dance over the strings, trying to find the perfect melody for the song he just wrote.

Writing songs has always been his way of dealing with his emotions, especially when they got too intense. Right now, the situation with Y/N is exactly that.

His eyes dance over the notebook in front of him, and he closes his eyes, trying to forget everything that’s happened in the past couple of days.

“Cause I don't know how we How we got so far, you and me Almost like there's oceans between us, us So I need to know Could you carry me? Back into your heart again Could you carry me? Right into your distant hands Could you carry me? Right back to where we started from Could you carry me?”

“That’s beautiful.”

Luke’s head turns sharply to the side, and of course, it’s her. He clenches his jaws, and says, “What are you doing here?” He hates the fact that she looks so pretty, wearing a beautiful red sundress.

She bites her lower lip, and says, “We should talk, Luke.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

She giggles. “You’ve always been the jealous type.”

He raises his brows, opening his mouth to deny whatever she was about to say next, but she raises a hand to stop him. “Alex and Reg told me. They said that they’re tired of seeing you mope every day.”

“I –”

“Hold on. So, for the past month, you’ve been mad at me because you thought I like Bobby?”

Luke lowers his head, choosing to stare at his open palm instead.

“You ignored one of your best friends for more than a month because you were jealous, and you were too much of an idiot to tell her the truth?”

“Well, you don’t gotta be so mean about it.”

She laughs. “Luke. Bobby and I – we’re just friends, okay? I was staring at him because I really liked his hair. And you have to admit it – it’s nice. I actually asked him for his shampoo, too. But, well, you and him both thought that I liked him. That’s why he asked me out to the movies last day. But... uh, well, it didn’t work out.”

His heart races at the last sentence. “Why?”

“Because I like you, Luke. I always have. I thought I could like Bobby, I really did – but all I could think about last night was you.” She shrugs, and Luke feels like he’s falling. He thinks that the universe is playing a prank on him, but when he sees her crimson tinged face, the vulnerability in her eyes and her fiddling with her hands, he allows himself to feel the slightest amount of hope.

She looks down, continuing, “I, uh, I always thought that you only saw me as your best friend’s little sister. I didn’t ever think that, you know, that there could be something more. So, I kept it to myself and only Alex knew. But, last night, Reg came over and they were screaming for a while, about you and me, so I went to find out what happened, and they told me that you, uh, liked me too.”

Reggie. He must have told Alex that Luke was ugly crying on his shoulder.

“Please say something, Luke.”

He releases the breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I – I feel like you’re pranking me.”

She grins. “No. No, definitely not.”

“Y/N, god, you have no idea how difficult this past month has been for me. I mean, I never realized that I liked you that much until I saw you with him, you know? I always thought that I had a tiny, little crush on you but I never… and I thought that Alex would kill me if I did anything, but he’s been oddly… nice about all this.”

“He’s just tired of hearing me talk about you.”

“Probably. But yeah. I think you’re brilliant, Mercer. And I really, really, really like you.”

She jumps a little, and whispers, “I really, really, really like you too.”

“Do you maybe wanna go to the movies with me?” His wide grin matches hers.

“Only if we watch part two of Father of The Bride.”

“Deal.”

+1.

Luke watches Bobby smile at Y/N, looking at her as if she’s put the moon in the sky. Although, this time, he doesn’t feel the rage. He doesn’t need to, really, with Y/N’s hand wrapped in his, and the ghost of her lips still lingering on his.

requests open! as always, feedback is highly appreciated <33

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writingthingsisdifficult · 3 years

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Feeling alone on your birthday? Check. Drinking too much to hide those feelings? Check. Accidentally both yelling at and declaring your feelings for Mando? Check. Oops.

Din Djarin x female reader

It was my birthday a couple of weeks ago, and the day wasn’t optimal, so this little idea formed. I'd be super stoked if you let me know what you think. :)

Word count: 5043

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It was your birthday. A day for eating and drinking and celebrating with friends and family, but you had neither. Still, the day had been okay, you supposed, but you couldn't shake off the loneliness and sadness that accompanied it. When you were younger, you always looked forward to the day, and even during the war your parents managed to scrounge up a celebration of sorts.

But that was years ago. Now your friends were gone, your parents were gone, hell, even your home planet was gone, and your birthday served only as a bittersweet reminder, reduced to longing, heartache, and waiting for the inevitable end.

The music was loud enough that it drowned out the other patrons in the bar, allowing you to drink and wallow in self-pity in peace, just like you had planned, and you were deep enough in the bottle that the mental wall that protected your emotions started crumbling.

Being miserable at home was bad enough, and you were seriously starting to regret the decision to even go outside today. Somehow the loneliness punched you in the head once the third glass was empty and you noticed how crowded the bar was. No one else seemed to be alone.

Your circle of friends had never been large, and it became even smaller during the war. Then it slowly thinned as people got older; getting jobs in transport, or starting families. Some just moved away. Eventually it became harder to keep in touch. Life. Life was what happened.

You sniffed into your glass, coughing a little when the fumes hit the back of your nose. There was still one friend, though. But he wasn't in town at the moment. He wasn't even on the planet.

Yeah, the music was loud, but not loud enough to drown out the thoughts that popped into your head. You had sort of promised yourself that you wouldn't think about Mando tonight, but as with all such promises, Brain was a big, fat liar.

As the hours ticked by, his face, well, helmet, showed up in your mind over and over, no matter how many times you shoved him down. Then his voice echoed in your ears; that soft, yet commanding voice that sent shivers down your spine. And his laugh… quiet sometimes, but always sincere. Fuck, you missed him so much! A new lump caught in your throat, and you swallowed hard and traced a line through the condensation on your glass.

How long had it been? He left right before your last birthday, you knew he had a job to do, but he promised to come visit again when he had earned enough money to take a break.

Weeks turned to months. Nothing unusual there, but when the year mark approached, you grew worried. You were always worried, to be honest, considering his line of work, but he had never been gone this long without so much as a message before.

"Well, happy birthday to me," you muttered with a sigh and drained the glass, wincing as the liquid burned down your throat, but the numbness that followed spread over you like a blanket. “Hey Briswig!” You waved your glass in his general direction. “Help me out, will ya?”

The bartender put down his towel, picked up a bottle. and sauntered over to you. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” He asked and poured a generous amount into your glass.

Shaking your head vigorously, you almost fell off the stool. “Nooooo! Not enough, I think you mean.”

Briswig smiled, then shook his head. “I can barely understand what you’re saying. It’s too early to be this wasted, Y/N. Shouldn’t you be at work or something? Why are you even here?”

“Din’t you know? ‘S my birthday.”

"It is? Happy birthday!" He cocked his head a bit and frowned. "You've been drinking alone all day." It was innocent enough, but it stung more than you wanted to admit.

You wafted him away and grimaced. "So? Not everybody is a social champ. Took the day off to drown my sorrows. See?" Lifting the glass again, you saluted him and took a big gulp. Most of the liquid went down the wrong pipe, and you coughed hard. The alcohol stung in your nose.

Handing you a napkin, Briswig patted your arm. “You don’t have to drink alone, you know.”

Rolling your eyes, you emptied the rest of the glass in one go and used the sleeve of your jacket to wipe your mouth. “Well, I would if I had any friends. All my friends are dead.” Or not even on the planet, you added in your head. “Do you know how hard it is to make new friends when you’re an adult? And I’m not very good at it in the first place.”

Briswig grimaced. “Go home, Y/N. You’ve had more than enough. Go home and sleep. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

You answered with a small pout. “Are you kicking me out? On my birthday?”

He smiled and left the bar to collect glasses. “You know what? Yes, yes I am. It’s not healthy wallowing like you do right now. Take an early night, get the day over with faster, right? Go home. Or do I have to call the bouncer on you?”

Glancing over at the burly trandoshan by the door, you sighed in defeat and hopped off the stool, almost knocking it over and bumping into the bartender. "Yeah, yeah. I'm going." You blew a raspberry and waved dismissively at him.

He chuckled and stepped aside so you could pass safely. You still stumbled. "You'll feel better tomorrow," he repeated, way too cheerfully for your taste.

"Bah!"

"See you next week, Y/N."

"Screw you!" And you meant it. He had come between you and your alcohol. For all you cared he could jump into a sarlacc-pit.

"I know you love me."

"Only because you provide me with my preferred poison, Briswig."

"Sleep tight."

The afternoon breeze was pleasant. It was still early enough in the year that the temperatures were tolerable, and the summer humidity hadn't kicked in just yet.

You sighed and snorted at the same time. How dared the day be so likeable? One day, you thought, you would jump on board one of those spaceships, travel the universe, find the one responsible for it all, and then punch them in the face. Or yell at them. Or at least hand them a strongly worded letter. You had never been fond of confrontations.

The sudden rush of air from the door pushed you forward, forcing you to sidestep. A stroke of luck and unexpected reflexes stopped your face from impacting with the wall, though your hands stung from the scrapes on you palm.

"Oh. Heh. Sorry. Din't see y' there." The words stumbled out of your mouth, and you looked at the wall in front of you and trying to make sense of it. "Well, don't let me interrupt." You patted the red brick and turned the other way, only to smack your head on a shiny breastplate. "'Pologies. Nice armour." You thought for a second. "I knew an armour once. He was nice too." You closed your eyes and pictured Mando in your mind. "I'd kick his butt," you muttered with a scowl, "if I could just catch him. Give him a few choice words for leaving me alone, that fucker. You understand, don't you?"

The armour started to say something, but you cut it off.

"He better come back soon." You fought to focus. It was harder than you anticipated. You weren't that drunk, were you? Or at least, you hadn't been when you'd been seated at the bar. Seated. Oh. "Now, where was I? Oh, yeah, don't suppose you've seen a Mandalorian sneaking around? I, I don't mean jus' any Mandalorian, you know." The eyes looking back at you from the shiny armour-mirror-thing glittered as you tapped the hard surface. "I mean my Mandalorian."

The armour didn't respond.

"You'd like him," you continued, not noticing the way the helmet tilted when you spoke, or how it chuckled when you interrupted every time they tried to speak. "He’s kind and funny and so soft on the inside -“ Putting a finger to your lips, you smiled conspiratorially. “Shhh… don’t tell ‘im that I said that. He likes people to think he’s hard.” The smile turned dopey. “He is hard. Could probably take anyone in a fight. He’s a total badass. Ooh, his ass. That’s a fine ass.”

"My Mandalorian is fantabulous," you said, grinning to hide the lump in your throat. If the waterworks started now, you wouldn't have the sober strength to stop. "Absolutely marvelsome. And he always makes me smile, you know. He’s perfect. I hate him. Makes me feel like I can fly."

A loud sigh escaped you, and you blinked one eye at the time. "Damn that man. Off on his adventures and leaving me behind like that. Look at this place. It's a dump! If I could, I'd jump on a spaceship and never ever come back." The thought of Mando stung in your heart. "I love him, y'know," you muttered to the breastplate. "Stupid Mando with his stupid, shiny armour." You hiccoughed a sob and swallowed. "I miss 'im." Blinking again, you stepped sideways to let the stranger pass, and almost stumbled into a trash bin. "Well, it's nice to meet you, armour."

"Y/N…" The voice showed a mix of amusement and something else you definitely were too drunk to recognise.

But hearing your own name immediately shut you up. For a moment the voice was just a disembodied memory, so familiar, but you just couldn't figure it out. Slowly, you looked around, before finally lifting your eyes. "Mando!" A wide smile spread over your face. "Where did you come from? I didn't see you, there."

It was difficult to decipher him, what with the armour and all, and even more so now you had all but inhaled Briswig's entire collection of fine, fine alcohol, but he looked happy to see you. You hoped he looked happy to see you.

Taking his gloved hand, using it to pull yourself closer, you finally put your arms around him, snuggling his hard shell, though in your state it didn't feel hard at all.

"I missed you," you mumbled into his pauldron, the sound of your voice somewhat muffled by the metal.

He squeezed you tight with one arm, leaning his head against yours. "Yeah, me too."

Forcing yourself to let go, you still lingered with your hand on his arm. "Hm? Shall we go for a walk? The suns don't set for a while yet. Or better: do you have anything to drink?"

"You think you should have any more now?" he asked as you crashed into the bin again. The only reason you didn't tumble over it and land on your butt was because he still held onto you.

"Yeah! Duh!"

He shook his head. "Let’s get you to bed.”

“But the suns are still up.” Confusion fizzed in your head. It was too early to sleep.

“I know, but I think you need some rest. We can talk tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?” You pulled back a little bit.

"Positive," Mando said, offering his arm as support. "You're so drunk you can barely stand. Can't have you starting a fight with the wall."

"What? Why? What did it say about me?" You balled your fist, tugging out of his grip to punch the bricks.

"Don't worry about it." He laughed quietly. "Come on." He took you gently by the elbow, leading you through the streets, making sure you wouldn’t fall and hurt yourself. Based on the collision with the trash can, there were already bruises forming on your thighs.

Being next to Mando was the only thing that made the day tolerable. You cherished the touch of his hand on your elbow, grinning stupidly, not quite aware of your surroundings, but still awake enough that you could account for yourself, and try to keep a conversation. Leaning heavily on him, you snuggled into his side. You could stay like this forever. “Mando. My Mando,” you muttered with a stupid grin. It wasn’t strictly true, but you were too drunk to care.

“Din. My name is Din,” he replied quietly.

You stopped abruptly. "Whoa!" It took a few seconds for your brain to unscramble. “Your name is Din.” Pause. You hiccoughed. “‘S pretty.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Din answered.

You took his arm again, an extra sway in your step. “Din. My Din,” you muttered, clearly trying to be quiet enough that he didn’t hear it. He did.

Though the ship no longer held the same feeling of home for Din - kriff, he missed the Crest - it was closer than the flat you called home. To be honest he wasn’t even sure if you even lived there anymore, and you weren’t providing answers; mumbling and humming happily. You were a happy drunk. Din smiled under his helmet. He should have come back long ago and whisked you away.

To be honest, he didn’t catch more than half of what you said, you were too intoxicated to make much sense, and most came out as gibberish anyway. But he DID catch the part where you said you missed him, and you had mumbled something about his stupid armour and his stupid butt, and he couldn’t ignore the feeling of elation that coursed through him.

Had you been sober, well, more sober, he would’ve told you how he felt, but for now he was more concerned with keeping you safe. There would be a day tomorrow too.

The ramp creaked and clanked heavily when it hit the ground.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you protested once you processed the sight, squinting at the entrance. “This isn’t the Crest?”

Din shook his head and looked at the new ship. It was shinier, newer, probably better, but it didn’t have the personality. “I lost it,” he replied bitterly. He still felt that pang of sadness every time the old ship was mentioned. “I haven’t decided if I’m going to keep this one yet.”

You patted the dusty exterior and nodded. “You should. Feels sturdy, ummm, keep you safe.”

He smiled a half smile. You seemed to approve. Maybe he could get used to the new ship after all.

“You can sleep in here,” he said, pointing with his free arm to a narrow alcove when you had made your way through the ship and into the private quarters.

“Noooo…” you sing-song protested. “It’s still light. An’m not tired.”

“Say that to your droopy eyelids,” he retorted. “And it’s dark in here; who cares what it’s like outside anyway.”

He had a point. And you were tired. Almost immediately, once you admitted that fact to yourself, you started swaying. Din had to grip you tighter to keep you from falling nose first to the floor. It was so hard to stay awake, even though you fought with all you had. The yawn that followed almost split your face in two. “Mmmm…”

“At least wait until you’re lying down,” Din grunted, thrown a bit off-kilter by your sudden deadweight. He hoisted you up to get a better grip so he could guide you to the bed. It was more dragging than walking, since you had apparently decided to sleep standing up.

“Come on, my drunk one. Let’s get you into bed, alright?” The only answer he got was a quiet, drawn-out hum that he interpreted as a yes, more out of necessity than anything else.

He lowered you down on the edge of the small sleeping alcove, and you sat - for a whole three seconds, before flopping backwards, landing with your head in the middle of the mattress and your legs still on the floor. Moments later you were snoring lightly.

Din looked at you with a gentle smile on his lips. You looked serene, like a sleeping angel, but that crooked angle of your neck couldn’t be comfortable. He’d fallen asleep many awkward places when he needed to, but waking up was always a stiff and painful experience.

So he grabbed your legs and tried to slide you onto the bed. No good. Your body twisted like a noodle. “Dank farrik! A little cooperation would be good,” he muttered, warranting a small sigh of content from you, almost making him forget what he was doing.

“Right. So…” He shook himself and cleared his throat. This was going to be more difficult than he thought.

Reaching over you, he hooked his arms under yours and pulled. Lacking the leverage, he slipped and almost landed on top of you, only just managing to get a hand loose in time to catch himself, and smacking his head on the wall in the process. The sound reverberated in his helmet, and the fact that you didn’t even react made him a bit worried. He would definitely have to check on you during the night.

What now? There was only one possibility left, and the thought sent heat to the back of his neck. The first attempt was fruitless. His helmet scraped against the low ceiling, and the bulkiness of his armour restricted his movement too much. With a jolt to his stomach, he realised that he would have to remove it. Was he ready for that? Maybe. After all, you were sleeping, and - if things went the way he had planned, he would soon show you his face anyway. But it was a big step. He thought for a second; one that he was willing to take for the sake of your comfort.

Returning to a dark corner, he began unfastening the clasps that fixed his breastplate in place. Then his arms and legs. Only when all the other armour were gone, leaving him feeling bare and vulnerable, he lifted his helmet off and placed it in one of the small wall niches. It fit perfectly.

Inhaling deeply, then exhaling, he stepped into the light again. You were still sleeping, and seeing you with his own eyes instead of through the visor almost brought him to his knees. He knew then, that unless you told him to, he would never have the strength to leave you again.

Suddenly he was struck by guilt. Could he really offer to take you away, to remove you from the safety and calm of having your own place? Wouldn’t he be ripping your roots right from the soil? A life on board the ship, with him, would be no easy life.

But hadn’t you, in your drunkenness, told him that this planet felt more like a prison than a home? The Crest had been his home once. Maybe, with you at his side, this ship could become home too.

Din gently climbed into the alcove, positioning himself with his knees on either side of your hips, careful to not touch you more than necessary. This way he had enough room, and enough strength to pull your drunken body all the way in.

Satisfied that you weren’t lying crooked anymore, he scooted out and off the bed. He then pulled off your boots and tucked the blanket securely around you.

With a sudden ache in his heart, he was reminded of Grogu, but quickly told himself that leaving the kid with the Jedi was for the best. Still, he was going to make damn sure he didn’t lose you too. With a final pat on your knee, he switched off the light and left you to sleep.

_______________________________________________________________

Some mudhorn was stomping on your head when you woke up. "Hnnnggg… I’m definitely dying. And if not, someone better hurry up and make it happen!” You weren’t ready to get out of bed yet, but it wasn’t a very comfortable position, and your tongue felt drier than the sand dunes on Tatooine. You muttered a curse and tried to turn over on your side, only to face the wall too quickly. You cursed your inexplicable ability to curl up in the smallest of corners in your sleep. Slowly, ignoring the creaking joints, you unfurled and stretched.

"Hey,” a gentle voice said from somewhere up above you.

Okay, so you weren't alone. That was… unusual. You opened your eyes and almost choked on your tongue.

Mando was there. “Good morning,” he said softly.

“Not particularly,” you croaked, wiping sleep crust from your eyes. To be honest you weren't a hundred percent sure he wasn't some alcohol fuelled hallucination.

“Well, here.” He handed you a bowl and a spoon.

The bowl was hot, and the contents steaming, and it smelled better than most space rations you’d seen before. To be honest, you were starving; craving those delicious carbohydrates to chase the alcohol out of your system.

And, when your brain finally started working again, you noticed that he wasn’t wearing a full armour. Helmet, of course, but other than that, only a soft pair of trousers and a thin shirt. If you didn’t know better, you would say he had just gotten out of bed. But then… where were you?

Squinting, you peered around the room. A soft mattress, comfy blankets, a grey metal wall that was dotted with rust and dust. The light was dim, but warm. This wasn't home. And it wasn't the Crest.

Din coughed, you thought, a bit awkwardly, but as long as he was there, he could be as awkward as he wanted. “How’s the hangover?”

“Massive.”

“Eat.” He nodded to the bowl. "And drink this. It'll help."

You noticed the bottle in his hands. Putting the food down on the mattress, careful to not spill a drop, you took the bottle with a grateful smile. The cool liquid ran down your throat with such deliciousness that you had to bite down a moan. “Thank you.” You shook the bottle. It was empty.

“So, drinking alone, huh? That can’t be good for you.” He sat down on a crate.

You chuckled darkly and blew on the spoon before sticking it in your mouth. It was good. “Heh, well… who else would I be drinking with? You weren't there to keep me in check.".

Mando didn't say anything, he just watched as you ate.

You wished you knew how disappointed he looked underneath that helmet. When he wasn't talking, it was impossible to gauge the level of your humiliation. "Great." You squeezed your eyes shut and grimaced, preparing yourself for the mental blow, then you opened one eye and looked up at him. "What did I do? Please tell me I didn’t do anything stupid yesterday!” You searched your memory, jumping over huge, black holes, feeling more anxious with each void you passed.

“You didn’t. Well, you did try to start a fight with a wall, but that was partly my fault, I guess. And you talked a lot. Not that I understood all of it, you were pretty wasted. Hard to interpret, too.” He laughed loudly.

You groaned and hid your face in your hands. “Really? Crap! Listen, Mando -“

“I told you: my name is Din.”

Your brain stopped for a second. “…your name is Din.”

“Funny. That’s the same thing you said yesterday.” There was amusement in his voice.

Heat crept up your neck and blossomed around your ears. “Just unexpected, is all.” You briefly wondered about the implications of this, but decided to worry about that later. Your head hurt too much to think. “I like it. It’s a good name. Suits you.”

“Thanks.” Din grinned. You were never one to make a big deal of something. He liked that. "I'll let you freshen up. The bathroom is down the passageway and to the right. I’ve filled the freshwater tanks, so use what you need. I’ll be in the cockpit.”

“Thank you.” The food was still warm, and it filled your stomach nicely. That, combined with the water, your headache had receded to a dull thumping just behind your eyes. Bearable.

________________________________________________________________

Clean and feeling a thousand times better, you climbed the ladder to the cockpit, eager to hang out with Din - you couldn’t believe he told you his name! - before he had to fly off to his next job.

“Now it’s a good morning,” you said as a greeting after knocking to let him know you were there.

Din nodded. He was waiting for you, comfortably sprawled in the pilot seat, and gestured for you to sit when you remained by the door.

"So –" you started.

"Listen –" Din said at the same time.

"Go ahead."

“I…” He hesitated, suddenly uncertain how to proceed. “I should’ve come back much sooner. But the job… things… got in the way. I’ve… This past year has been…”

You blinked. This was unexpected. Your stomach tickled; a small hope blossomed in your chest. The way he danced around what he really wanted to say: you knew Din. He either had some really bad news, or… Your cheeks twitched, but you forced yourself to be calm.

“The moment I jumped into hyperspace, I realised that I didn’t want to leave.” He paused again, suddenly convinced he’d imagined all the things you said the day before. “I -“

You put your hand on his. “I didn’t want you to leave either.”

Din sat back. “I was…” he began, rubbing the back of his neck and searching for words. “Things happened. I had planned on returning after the job, but then…”

“Life happened”, you offered, and he nodded.

“Yeah. I needed more money, one job followed the other, and suddenly I had a responsibility other than myself.”

Your heart sank, feeling the weight of what he was saying. He’d found someone. Settled down. “Congratulations,” you said, but you didn’t really mean it.

“What?”

“You have a family now."

“A foundling. For a while we were a clan of two. But he couldn’t stay with me. This isn't a life for a kid. I was tasked with bringing him to his own people. And I did. He's… he's with someone who can train him now." His voice cracked and he swallowed hard.

Utter heartbreak radiated from him. You reached for him, but changed your mind, placing your hand awkwardly on your knee.

Din sighed. He needed to do this, now. The short rush of air from the release of his helmet rang in his ears. Keeping his eyes on you while he lifted it, he held his breath - afraid for your reaction.

The moment you realised what Din was doing, all air left your lungs. How often had you not imagined him without his armour, without the protective barrier between him and the world? Pictured his mouth, his eyes, how his face must shine when he laughed… Mandalorians simply did not remove their helmets, and if they did, they could never put it back on, and now he was letting you see him.

“…Din.” Your voice was a gentle warning.

He stopped mid-movement; chin just visible under the bottom edge.

You continued before he could say anything. “I’ve wanted to see you since the day we met. But please don’t break your creed for me. I’m not worth it.”

“I’m not,” he said, voice raw and emotional. “I want to look at you with my own eyes. Please. There is so much I’ve learned since… and this…” He lifted the helmet off, revealing his face to you with a smile and glistening eyes. “You areworth it.”

Never in a million years had you imagined how it would feel. His face was so gentle. Before you could stop yourself, you put your hand on his cheek. The rough stubbles tickled, but the skin was soft underneath, and the warmth spread through your body.

Din leaned into your touch and closed his eyes. "I have so much to tell you." He opened his eyes again. They were an abyss, and you felt yourself drowning.

Suddenly aware of yourself, your hand dropped back into your lap. "I have all the time in the world." It was barely a whisper, but you both heard the true meaning as if it was shouted. I'm with you to the edge of the universe and back.

"I should've come back before. But I was afraid. Afraid you would say no, but I just couldn't stop thinking about you. Cara hit me over the head more than once, practically ordering me to go back." He exhaled through his nose and smiled. What was it she used to say? What, are you stupid? Go to her. You're so CLEARLY in love, it's disgusting. "But then I found out Moff Gideon was involved too, and I couldn't let him near you. If, if you had been hurt because of him, I would never forgive myself. But he can't hurt you now."

Getting to his feet, he walked around the chair and stopped in front of you. Crouching down, he took both your hands in his, brushing his lips over your knuckles. "Were you serious when you said you would leave this planet if you could?

Not daring to look away, in case this was all a dream, you nodded and squeaked out a thin "Yeah." The sound took you by surprise, and you barked a laugh, breaking the tension in the small room.

Din laughed too, and gave you a crooked smile that almost made you slide off the seat. "I could use a co-pilot," he offered with a wink.

Looking dramatically around the room, you shrugged. "I can't fly."

"Well, company then," he replied, opening his arms to you.

You sank into his embrace, leaning forward with such force that he toppled backwards, pulling you with him. He didn't let go, and you landed on top of him, nose to nose, and with a vague feeling of your skin being on fire.

His warmth and scent enveloped you, and when he leaned up to gently press his lips against yours, thousands of tiny stars skipped over your body, leaving flames in their wake. This was not a time to be gentle, and you dipped down to mould yourself against him. You were home.

#mandalorian fanfic #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #home #fanfiction #fluff #drunkenness #alcohol #writing is hard

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gayspock · 2 years

Text

ok current random thoughts on severance

- first of all tempted to rewatch from the beginning at some point. unsure when, but hm.... maybe before not next ep, but the ep after? i think bingeing- its like i couldnt NOT binge a lil<3 - some things do blur a little, as opposed to weekly releases, and i'd really like to reabsorb some things >:3 - i really like dylan!! SORRY, just want to give him some love- and i hope they do more with him, whilst still maintaining the balance theyve struck with him bc... i think... hm. THIS IS LESS ABT SEVERANCE, HERE! but its moreso an unguided ramble in general abt, like, the functions of certain characters i guess? bc thus far i feel like... you know. dylan serves to add a bit of levity, and to cut some tension; he's a very good balance to the office dynamic, as well as being a very... necessary perspective. not just in terms of contrast to the others, but like his genuine existence as a more complaisant type of character not like irving or even how mark tends to be, but like.... the normal guy who kind of doesnt buy into it, and isnt reverant to the systems, but also isnt kicking up a terrible fuss and sort of doesnt question it in like a . "well its just sorta like that ehhh<3"

or only does so in a nonserious way, conspiratorial stuff that airs more on the side of fun poking at shite, or like. in general he will defy lumon in moreso little ways- so i guess it probably still fancies himself as having some agency (unlike irving, in his opinion) but also does think himself rational (unlike helly, in his opinion) bc by his measure its like fucked, sure, but also whatever- when like at the end of the day he's still very much playing the game even if he's very casual about it all- AND . anyway thats all to say i would like to see MORE of him, in some sense! but also i reocgise that like. hmmm. a lot of this and how he functions is kind of inherent to him NOT being so centre stage, of him not having too much "up" with him and that sense of normalcy being integral to him BUT

equally i guess i started rambling abt it bc gosshh OMG OK<- ANNOYING MOMENT INCOMING. <-A BLOKE IS ABT TO TALK ABOUT D*CTOR WH*..,. <-OH EEK THIS IS A WARNING!! bc like if we're talking the current dw specials yeah? i feel like (at least, i at first) tried to allow for, and to be like "ok!" the addition of dan, to supplement graham and ryan's loss; he would be the new comic relief, the new balancing force in the tardis. and its like sigh. how laughable to even try to compare the ufcking messy clumsiness that is chibnall's writing, to the show above but like........ my point is, in the nye special (since flux is kinda too sloppy to rlly even poke at omg..oops) its like yeahh sure he serves tht purpose and hes a good character in his own right. but ALSO sighhh. he is sort of... still unnecessary im bc its like- there's something so.... functional about it. certainly he's what the show does need- but also there's other ways of serving those purposes, that would have been so much more enriching? LIKE: i LOOK at yaz, yeah? and... is it literally so insane to try and let HER be funny? is that such an absurd thing to propose? bc you can do that! but it wouldnt be with the immediate obvious quips you can have someone like dan fire out. but equally it would have given her more depth, it would have made the show so much cleaner in how it functions, but ultimately it would have been "harder" to do so- and its like, there's something very lifeless abt the current era of companions. and i think thats... sorta it. theyre all kind of put in for very rigid purposes and then thats it and theyre never allowed to be more than that or for even to be meaningful in the context of the story and its like- its SUCH a shame you know its suchhhh a shame

and my point. oh what was my point. that had me thinking a lot in general abt the way characters like dan exist in stuff (THAT sounds. vaguely pretentious i h*te that) and how characters who kkind of cut tension but also arent wholly. necessary-necessary and im LOOKING at dylan . BC HE DEFINITELY IS NOT THAT, MIGHT I SAY! he isnt- at least not right now- bc as i was saying he does strike a nice balance and i think his perspective is meaningful to the show but also... going forward i do think. like i said, i want more from him but i wonder how the show could go on to do that? its a balancing act. bc also- it probably WILL need to do that at some point as the status quo changes, as i presume it will in the show and as its doing so right now and i DO hope... i DO hope that they manage to do well by him, is all im saying! bc i feel like- i feel like it'd be very easy to use him for the sake of function alone, but... it'd be nice, still, to realise him in other aspects <3

- vaguely related but not so deep. im actually not that fully committed to helly yet! and oh that sounds a little impolite... I DO-I DO LIKE HER I think shes also a characrer though where hmmm. god i am obviously drawn to the horrific fucking nightmare shes clearly living in and she really. does make you realise how fucking fucked it all is- but also... hmm. i feel like that a lot of what we have been getting of her, is that immediate horrified response and whilst i can obviously go fucking bananas for her personality (the tenacity she has and everything) she has thus far existed in that extreme- and thats not a bad thing!! just like a. im sitting on the edge of my seat for her... like think she's going to get SO much better as time goes on, is the thing, and as we get more of her outside self. obviously we cant see that yet but it slike... how do i even say it. i feel like i cant quite explain it well? its like im at the beginnig of something rlly fucking good with her, and im seeing the groundwork laid out and im waiting for the drop first. ino idea if my sentinmence are making sense any more its almost 5am here<3

- similarly theres other characters that i KNOW theyre teasing something soooo good with them but also im vibrating bc it hasnt DROPPED yet fullyh- like cobel, casey and milchick- all have like ushc a fascinating things proposed this far and i would ramble more of them but obviously so much of thmem are ambiguous right now and im screaaaming bc like. i do I DO hope that with cobel in particular, that they give her her depth but also hm.... ive said it a lot, you know, about how i dont like it when "bad guys"'s presumed storylines are that theyre either 1 ) redeemed or 2) they were always justified and had sth awful going on tht made them that way (and certainly thats an oversimplification of the matter) but theres a possibility with her that they could try to sympathise with her in some way and i dont WISH for that i dont!! but i DO want some nuance in there and to see whatever the hell her perspective is and how she is a victim to whats going on whilst still being very much at fault for it... THEN with milcheck im squainting at him in general i feel like theres more to him. and with casey casey casey also unsure of her deal thus far, a thing we will surely see later... but i do hope sheis severed and shes another . interesting perspective bc

- hmmm like- i think tthats actually. LIKE MY GRIPES WITH THE SHOW THUS FAR ARENT LIKE. proper proper fair gripes theyre moreso like "i am ANTICIPATING this in the future" kind of situations and i dont think it'd be tooo fair to speak of them all when the showis still in progress. bc like- in general its like... i dont have BIG, HUGE AHHRGH issues with anything anyways? its moreso little things- certain perspectives and takes and worldbuilding matters that i sort of wish would be touched on more, but i cant tell if theyre like 1) leaving it for later OR 2) theyre going to be left ambiguous in general but by the end it wont feel incomplete as we see other takes OR 3) they really just wont at all and HEY i suppose thats the thing when youre following sth ongoing like this, but OMG i know its goofy googoo but theres a trepidation babygirl sniff sniff BC THUS FAR ITS LIKE- i actually love it so far you know, like thats one thing i do like a lot about the show. certainly it isnt perfect by any means, but they ARE committing to their concept. like it feels like it could be so... lukeworm? LUKEWPRM. SORRY I - TYPO EEPING THAT. but i feel like Fafjipsdfpkosd. IT COULD be so lukewarm is what i was intending to say but they are leaning into it. like i feel like a much lesser show would take this concept but not fully commit to the actual... horrific nature of it, and also not the actual implications of it? of like- what the "innies" would be, and how they would be as their own sort of culture? and theres still room for improvement- but like omgg....

- also also also also. i hate the term innies and outties it makes me think of belly buttons and absolutely i think these terms WOULD pop up, theyre the sort of casual things that people would just say but like i HATE using them but jHELP HELP HELP HLEP theres something that gives me the ick that i dont hold against the show bc theyre right but also i hold it against myself ahhrhg

- i like how marks brother in law whose name i cant hold onto... FIRST OF ALL. i keep merging him with the bloke from ointb. obsessed with the weird brother energy he just radiates. but like- GOD .... the way his shitty book with the dodgy platitudes and all sorts..... its actually so. the way its scoffed at by outie mark (or at least, his sentiments are) but revered by innie mark. like its just so... SORRY cant quite articulate it right now but GOD its like such a fucking fascinating shift in perspective as to how sth like that feels so laughable and kinda. shallow?n perhaps not the right word- but its something so different to us but recontextualised its revolutionary like UH HUH........GOD.

- im also so crazy abt burt and irving. like im not shipper brain rotted but god its just so nice to see two older men developing a relationship and its sincere and its not, like, subtextual its like THERE-THERE, and its stated openly like.... :3 <3 its really moving. happy for them... i am, i am, i am. bc its also like- its also not forced, hell! or like just. incidental.

- erhm waht else<3

- i think i had more thoguths i'll leave it hear now tho LOL kiss kiss

#Egg.txt #severance liveblog

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spunkpunx · 3 years

Text

Are Friends Electric? (Alex Turner)

Multi Part Series

Part 1: Dreamy Days

Sheffield 2002

"Is that a fookin' United shirt?"

"Yeah, so what? It's not mine, you know I support Owls."

"Am honestly disappointed in you, consortin' with the enemy an' that," Alex shook his head, refusing to look at the offending football shirt that I'd been forced into wearing.

"It was in lost property, an' you know what the PE teachers are like, they threatened to suspend me, Mam would kill me if they did," I replied, rubbing her legs in an attempt to warm them.

"Only 'cause you've been suspended before."

"Yeah well I don't want to do it again, she'd have me bloody guts for garters," I told him. He rolled his eyes. We were sat on an old bench around the back of the school, dressed in PE kits and smoking B&H cigarettes I had stolen off my mother. My football shorts were no match for the harsh January weather, but I was wearing a parka, hence why Alex had only just noticed the Sheffield United t-shirt. We couldn't leave school grounds yet, because in order to get out from behind we'd would have to go past the French classroom, and as the bell hadn't yet gone, there would still be Miss Kelly and a class of year 7s ready to catch us out.

"I'm fookin' freezing," Alex whined, putting out his fag on the wall and dropping it onto the floor. "At least you've got that bloody big coat."

I sighed and flicked my cigarette butt onto the floor, stomping it out with the toe of my trainer. "If we go over the wall you know you have to give me a leg up," I explained bluntly. He nodded along almost eagerly, likely desperate to get out the cold and home as soon as possible.

"I don't mind Jack, I just wanna leave."

"Right then," I replied, standing up, picking up my bag and putting a foot into a crack in the stone, grabbing the top edge where my fingers could just about catch grip on the rough stone. Alex came up behind me and put his hands on my shin, and using his hands to push against, I pulled herself up. Unfortunately, my foot slipped, and I began to fall back down, but my fall was stopped by the feeling of hands holding me up. Alex's hands, on my bum.

I felt my ears burning red, but not willing to have to try again, I pulled herself up using my arms and jumped down the other side. As soon as my feet touched the ground I climbed on top of the large wheelie bin that sat against the wall and grabbed Alex's arm as he clambered over as well. He was a lot taller than me now, he'd grown in a way only 15 year old boys do, all long limbs and clumsiness. I'd barely even noticed him shoot up. I helped him over and we jumped into the street below.

"Um... I'm sorry that I touched your..." Alex stuttered slightly, his cheeks going uncharacteristically red. I cut him off.

"Al, it's fine."

"I mean I-"

"It's fine," I repeated, more firmly. He shrugged and pushed his hands into his pockets, beginning to walk down the alley toward the road. I followed him, jogging slightly to catch up with his long strides.

"Am gonna join a band you know," he told me as we turned the corner onto the street. I looked at him in surprise.

"A band? Who wiv?" I questioned, confused.

"Matt."

"Matt Helders or Matt Sheppard?"

"Matt Helders of course! Av'e never even spoke to Matt Sheppard why on earth would I be talking about 'im?"

"Well I dunno do I? I didn't even know Matt Helders played an instrument, he's not singing is he?" I queried, scuffing my shoes along the floor.

Alex shook his head slightly. "He plays drums, I'm the singer."

"But you play guitar?" I could sense my brain was really struggling to keep up.

"I can do both, like Bowie."

"Don't compare yourself t'Bowie unless you go to your gigs dressed in a catsuit an' heels an' bat away crowds of lads and lasses who want to sleep with ya."

"I'm not against the crowds of lasses, but I don't think I could commit to the rest," he laughed cheekily. I gave him a playful punch in the shoulder.

"You're full of shit, you are," I grinned, as he rubbed his arm over-dramatically. Cars whizzed past as we reached the main road. Cars that caused slight rushes of air as the pair of us continued to walk, that's how close they drove past the pavement. "Mine or yours?" I asked him.

"Yours, yer mam won't be back from work yet."

"Fairs."

A silence lulled in the conversation as we continued to walk down the street, Alex was scuffing his trainers along the floor. It was annoying as fuck but I didn't say owt.

"Did you hear what Rory Pike did today at lunch?"

"No?"

"He got his cock out on the school field," Alex divulged me, a laugh spread across his face. I couldn't help but join in the joke.

"Rory Pike is a world class minger," I told him, and soon we were both in stitches, adding extra gross details to the story to the amusement of each other.

"Did Cook finally ask tha' girl out then?" I changed the subject, catching my breath back from my laughing fit.

"'Course not, he jibbed again, then Simmo asked her instead," Alex explained.

"Simmo? Did she say yes?"

"Why would she? She clearly fancies Jamie."

"He needs to get his act together and ask her."

Alex nodded, momentarily in thought. He then very suddenly turned around and gave me a playful shove.

"First one to yours!" he exclaimed, quickly speeding off around the corner.

"Bastard," I muttered, beginning to run after him. I sprinted to catch up, but the awkward coat prevented me from getting anywhere near the speed his long limbs could get him. He legged it off and I was forced to slow my pace back down to a walk. The boy was clearly going to win and I had the house key so he'd have to wait outside for me anyway. I decided to take me time knowing I'd probably bump into Alex around the corner when he came back to see where I was. He'd probably be a bit moody about it, telling me off for being a fun sponge, and I'd apologise insincerely and then he'd give me an awkward side hug and tell me he couldn't stay angry at me, there's no way I'd let him. Then we would probably walk back to mine and be done with the matter.

This wasn't the case. I got round the corner, then the one after that, and didn't see any sign of Alex. There was no way he would still be running, he was too lazy and he would look like an idiot, racing against no one. He was a dafty but not that much of one. I began to get confused after I rounded the third corner and there was still not a sign of him.

"Oi Jackie!" Alex exclaimed, grabbing my shoulders from behind. I yelped in surprise and he burst out laughing.

"Fook you Alex Turner," I scolded him. "How did ya even get behind me?" He said nothing, and just tapped his nose conspiratorially.

Sheffield 2003

He knew everything there was to know about Jackie. He knew her favourite colour (red),her middle name (Arabella), her handwriting and everything else in between. Alex had known this for ages, but it had never weighed on his mind as much as it had recently.

It was the way he'd seen her the other night. There was a small gaff at someone or another's and Alex had gone with the boys. Jackie had showed up a bit later, dressed very differently to how he normally saw her. She had a leopard print mini skirt on and a tight, cropped t-shirt, along with her trainers and Adidas jacket. Of course he noticed her, lighting one of her L&B blues and trying to smoke it subtly; she was the only one smoking.

He had gone over and said hello, and she'd grinned when she saw him, glad of some company, he expected. Some 90s rave hit was playing, and cheesy lights flashed across the room. Trying too hard, he thought. She picked a beer off the counter she was leaning on and gave it to him. A Corona, lukewarm but still alcohol.

"D'ya wanna come for a spliff?" she asked him, patting her pocket, and he said yes. Her top was very tight, although he tried not to look, but he saw her bra, visible through the fabric. They went outside onto some kind of shitty balcony. She got what looked to be a large gram of weed and some Rizlas out, making an L and then ripping open a cigarette to get the tobacco out, she carefully sprinkled in some of the spliff and rolled. Alex didn't say anything, he just watched as she deftly rolled the joint. She lit the end and took her time, sitting down on a breeze block. He found himself a seat on the step.

"So how's t'band going, Arctic Monkeys i'nt it?"

"There's a gig coming up, at The Grapes," Alex told her, proudly. In fact, he puffed up slightly with pride. Jackie had never really got involved with the band, she said it weren't her business, but Alex still felt remarkably pleased whenever she showed an interest, especially if they were doing well.

"D'ya want me to come?"

"'Course! I thought you already were."

"Yeah I just... weren't sure, that's all," Jackie responded, unusually quiet. She was acting off with him.

"Is summit up?" Alex asked. She shrugged, taking another drag on her spliff and then handing it to him. "Jack?" he prompted further.

"It's nothing Al, jus' summit stupid," she replied. Her fingers fiddled with the edge of her sleeve. He decided to leave it, pushing her wouldn't make her tell him, it would just annoy her. He took a toke of the joint and they sat in silence for a moment.

"Wanna find some White Lightning and get hammered?" she asked and Alex grinned.

"Are you sure? That stuffs pretty lethal."

"Well fook it all we're not going home tonight," she replied, laughing slightly. Alex nodded, smiling, then passed her the spliff back. It was a still and cold night. Jackie let the smoke seep out her mouth and inhaled it through her nose.

They finished the spliff and went back inside. Alex found the rest of his mates and together they all got steaming. Simmo was acting strangely all night. Then Jackie started acting strange too. She was all quiet and snappy.

"Why were you being such a mardy bum yesterday," he asked her the next day. They were lounging about on the sofa at his, nursing two horrible headaches. She rolled her eyes at him.

"Not now Alex, I'm too hungover for this," she answered, misery clear in her voice.

"Just tell me and I'll stop naggin'" he told her, shuffling a bit closer so she couldn't turn over and ignore him.

"Your mate Simmo," she replied simply.

"What'dya mean? Look, I know the joke was a bit insensitive but tha's just what 'e's like," Alex began to explain, for some reason unknown to him, in Simmo's defence.

"It's not tha' you bloody great nit, he kissed me."

Alex couldn't explain why that came like a twist in the gut, but it did nonetheless. It made him stumble for his words for a moment.

"Oh," was all he managed to get out. "Did you kiss him back?"

"Of course not, he's funny, but a bit gross," Jackie replied, pulling a face, and Alex laughed. A strange sense of relief was felt somewhere in his system, although nowhere near enough to dull the queasy thud of his hangover. "'Sides, Chris asked me out the other day."

"Who the fook is Chris?"

"Chris Maher, from the garage."

"Him? You've lost your mind Jackie, he works at fookin' MotorWorld."

"He's funny! And he knows loads about cars, plus he can drive," she said stubbornly, crossing her arms.

"Why does it matter 'e can drive?"

"So I can get places, obviously," she responded dryly.

"I've almost passed me test!"

"Al, you're not even close to passing, I spoke to yer Dad an' he says you drive like you're drunk. 'Sides, I wouldn't want to get on your nerves, always cadgin' a lift." she explained, to Alex's disappointment.

"I didn't expect your type to be a guy who walks around in trackies, how desperate are ya?" Alex jabbed, a little cruelly. Jackie shot him a scathing look.

"Alexander, what is up with you? You were fine last night, an' now you're acting like I'm makin' you suck bloody lemons," she reprimanded him. She was trying to draw him into an argument, he could tell. He wasn't about to start a fight.

"Oh, it duen't matter," he said offhandedly, hoping to diffuse the issue, which seemed to work.

"He's actually a really lovely guy," Jackie added after a long pause.

"Ay, I'm sure he is," Alex replied halfheartedly.

#alex turner #arctic monkeys #alex turner x reader #alex turner one shot #multi part fic #early 2000s #alex turner x oc

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dapandapod · 4 years

Text

The game test

(Oh wow this got loooong! Again suggested by @honeysuckletook and then i kinda morphed it again. hope you like it!)

Prev - Next

Ciri: Pleaaase?

Yen: No.

Ciri: pleeeaaaaseeee? *big ol’ puppy eyes*

Yen: *unmoved* *she knows the puppy eyes* *heck she probably were the one who taught her* No! There’s only so much I can take. No. More. Card games.

Eskel: *very moved by puppy eyes ™* *Ciris favorite victim actually* Aw come on Yennefer. One more round?

Yen: No. Something else.

Jaskier: How about a game? We used to play this a lot when I was a student back in Oxenfurt.

Geralt: *raises an eyebrow, arms crossed* child friendly?

Jaskier: We obviously don’t drink when we are wrong.

Lambert: Where is the fun in that?

Jaskier: Just hear me out! So, we’ll go around the table. When it’s your turn you tell one truth and one lie. And the others will guess which is which.

Yen: *catches Ciris eye* *where is your clipboard child?!*

Ciri: *eyes widen* Shit.

Vesemir: Language!

Aiden: But that’s not very fair to you, Jaskier. You are up against five witchers and a sorceress.

Jaskier: *very sneaky smirk* Oh I think I know more than you think, kittycat. *everybody round the table is suddenly very nervous* So should I start?

Yen: But what do we win?

Eskel: How about the one with the most points will get to tell the one with the least points to do something?

Lambert: Yes! Geralt prepare to run butt naked over the courtyard!!

Geralt: *offended Witcher noises* why me?! Im very good to tell truth from lie!

Jaskier: *snorts* Keep telling yourself that, love. But yeah, sounds good to me.

Jaskier: Ok so! I am allergic to snails. And I once had pink hair.

To no ones surprise Geralt lost. Yennefer won, Jaskier a close second.

There is some conspiratorial whispers with Ciri going on behind Geralts back, as he dejectedly stares at the ground.

Yen: So. Geralt. You sit in Lamberts lap.

Lambert. *decision heavily influenced by Ciris puppy eyes™ and a brand new knife* Hell. No. He is fucking heavy. I will stab him.

Vesemir: Language!! How many times!!

Yen: Fine. Geralt go sit in Jaskiers lap!

Jaskier: *lights up* *leans back and pats on his knees* Awwww Geralt. Come here, Im sure you are not that heavy!

Geralt: *grumble grumble* *Geralt is that heavy tho* *have you seen that mans muscles??* *but sit on Jaskiers lap is...* *blush blush blush* *very emberasing* HMm. >:L

Yen: Go on. *aaaw Geralt needs a threat to make it seem like he doesn’t want to* Alright fine. If you don’t you will get to act as Lamberts chamber maid for the rest of the night.

Lambert: *delighted* Oh please don’t sit in his lap! *Ciri elbows him in the ribs*

Geralt: *sits the fuck down in Jaskiers lap*

Jaskier: *Ouuf* *heavy Witcher* Alright you are a heavy Witcher. *Geralt is right there Geralt is right there omg Geralt is right there*

Geralt and Jaskier: *Blush blush flush flush try to act normal* *they are very bad at it*

Ciri: *on a conjured clipboard* *hums and scribbles* Idiots in close proximity acts as if stunned. This was a good test. There will be more data on the Subject.

Ciri Sience and the Idiot Syndrome

Ao3

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leomitchellart · 4 years

Text

So… about this latest Inktober controversy….

Time to begrudgingly chuck in my two penneth… (Remeber you can always press “J” to skip this post altogether)

As most of you may or may not know, Alphonso Dunn released a Youtube video wherein he publicly accused Jake Parker, and creator of the Inktober challenge, of plagiarising his book. Both of these men are public figures, artists specialising in pen & ink. In the video Dunn looks at the preview pages and flip through footage of Parker’s “Inktober All Year Round” and says they draw many similarities in the illustrations, language and layout that he used in his own book, “Pen & Ink Drawing”. Parker’s book was set to this month. Hense why Dunn only used footage and not a physical copy.

Since the video’s release, the art community has been very spilt down the middle. The book’s publisher has halted the launch of Parker’s book until the matter can be investigated. Even DeviantArt cancelled their own Inktober event thing (I’ll admit I don’t keep up with these things DA keeps doing). Parker has since released a statement in the matter. Now it’s up to the courts to decide what’s happening next. The video itself is an hour long, but it’s crucial to see it yourself.

People are, understandably, outraged after seeing it. This seems like a shitty thing to rip-off Dunn - not to mention stupid. Since Dunn is the more popular pen & ink artist with more social media followers and name recognition. Many have called to boycott inktober and condemn Parker. I’ll admit, I was right alongside them at first, at least for feeling outraged. The similarities are there. But if YMS’s Kimba video has taught me anything, it’s that, even if an accusation of plagiarism may be obvious at a cursory glance, sometimes it’s important to take a more critical eye and do more research to learn that things aren’t as cut and dry as they first seem. If there’s a lesson I can take away from the internet as a whole, it’s that no one thinks about the consequences of mob mentality.

The most common defence of Parker is that because they’re both books about pen and ink drawing, then they’re inevitably going to be similar. I’ll admit that, when you pick-up so many art books, a lot of them will cover the same basic grounds of materials, tutorials, strokes, techniques etc. The parts about rendering textures on spheres and cubes isnt new. Look up “texture study” and you’ll see so many examples of artists rendering these kinds of things digitally. I’ve also noticed a common theme of people more formally educated in art pointing out how none of these are original. Everything down to the steps and illustrations are things they’ve learned from years ago. Since I'm a pen & ink artist, inspired by my love of comics, I have quite a few books about inking: Dunn’s included. I own both his books and still highly recommend them. I didn't even preorder Parker’s book. Ironically because I didn't think it could offer anything new that my other books hadn’t already.

While Ethan Becker took the time to cross-examine Dunn and Parker’s books with several others, there weren’t many of the ones I actually owned. So I looked to my shelves to see what I could find. Books like:

“The Art of Comic Book Inking” by Gary Martin & Steve Rude

“How Comics Work” by Dave Gibbons & Tim Pilcher

“The DC Comics guide to Inking Comics” by Klaus Janson

“Making Comics” by Scott McCloud

“Stan Lee’s How to Draw Comics”

I’m sure there’s plenty more examples out there. I was planning to go through all of these and take pictures. But ultimately that’s not the core point of these post. Plus it would’ve taken WAY too long and this post itself, is long enough.

Of course, none of the them are 100% close to Dunn’s in the way they’re displayed. Not as close as Parker’s could be considered. That being said, I know Dunn is trying to claim that he invented these techniques. The nucleus of the issue is how similar they are in terms of order and how these pages are displayed. Some I can chock-up to standard practice, while others seem more coincidental.

If there’s one thing I’m adamant about, it’s that I think that Dunn should’ve messaged Parker first before making the accusation public. Some try to dispute that this would've made it easier for Dunn to be “silenced”, whatever that means; but that sounds a bit conspiratorial to me. Ideally, you confront him about it in private, if he makes any threats or blows you off, get your lawyer on the phone and then make the video. Not only is it the more civil thing to do - but it’s the smarter thing to do. This is a serious legal matter, not just internet drama. While I’m sure Dunn had no intention of tearing Parker down or getting a mob onto him, that’s unfortunately what’s happened. A backlash both from the general artisan community and several companies. Wherein it was left to Parker himself to make this an official legal matter. If Parker’s found not guilty, then this could easily leave the gate open for him to sue Dunn for damages, loss of revenue, defamation of character or whatever else, should he see fit. As could the publishers, given how this affected their sales. Companies responded to the accusation of the video alone, before an investigation could be launched. Sure, it wouldn't be “acting the bigger man” but he’d be well within his right to do it. Dunn showed that Jake has mentioned him before, shown admiration for his career and referenced him in other posts. If it comes to light in court, that Dunn is even cited as an inspiration or source in the book itself, then it’s case closed.

Then there’s the other possibility that Parker might not have done this on his own, but that he has a team behind the book. If that’s the case, the most I can accuse Parker of is being a hack. I worry Dunn has kneecapped himself for just how badly he’s handled this situation. Made worse by him not having an actual physical copy to assess and just had footage of preview pages to go on. So far, the circumstances don’t seem on his favour.

I don’t think ill of Dunn. I do think he believes he’s been wronged and no malice in his intentions. I just think he’s made some critical errors on how to handled this. As for Parker himself, I couldn't give a donkey’s doo-dah about him. I’m sure you could accuse me of playing devil’s advocate earlier, but to me, he was the guy who released the annual prompt list. If it really does turn out that he’s a plagiarist and had malicious intent, then fuck ‘im. I never regarded him as an inspiration of mine or paid much attention to him outside of that. It was the community that made Inktober what it is. I’ve never met Parker. Maybe he’s a cool guy? Maybe he’s a bellend? I don’t know.

Granted this isn't the first time Parker has proved himself to be a controversial figure: - Last year people were upset about him trademarking (not copywriting, as many have erroneously claimed) the word “Inktober” and some artists were stopped from selling their related work or zines. Parker would issue a statement: claiming the takedowns were a mistake of “overzealous lawyers” and it’s just a matter of the logo being trademarked. People can sell their Inktober works and even mention they are Inktober-related. Just not use the official logo. On the one hand, from a business standpoint, I get it. It’s the bare minimum you need to do to protect your IP, especially when you have a store. BUT, like most people, I don’t like how, what’s intended as a community challenge, has slowly become more of a brand associated with one man. Hardly a surprise it left a bad taste in so many people’s mouths. But, since it doesn't actually effect anyone’s ability to take part in the challenge, outside of personal principle, I went ahead with it the previous year.

- The year before, when asked if one can do Inktober digitally, Parker said the following:

I know some are still bitter about that, but speaking as someone who inks traditionally and digitally, this came across as needless whinging and blowing things out of proportion. Claiming that Jake had derided digital artists and said they were invalid etc etc. Take it from me, challenging yourself to try out different methods to ink traditionally can greatly improve the work you do digitally. It’s like how learning traditional fundamentals of art can still be applied to digital. Plus he never said “No.” he just gave valid reasons about how it makes it a different experience. That said, if you’re someone who can’t afford any kind of inking equipment or pens and only have a selected application to draw on - then none of this applies to you. Just the aforementioned few who took it upon themselves to get angry over nothing. Recently I’ve heard from subscribers of his newsletter that he’s now embraced the idea of people doing inktober digitally, to the point of selling digital brushes for inktober. I’m sure some will call this “backsliding” or “money grubbing” because people aren’t allowed to change their minds or update their statements.

For weeks I’ve been torn on what to do, not being able to solidify one stance over another. One minute I thought #JusticeForAlphonsoDunn then I wonder “Wait maybe I should look again?” to “But wait, those are way too similar!” Having splinters in my arse from sitting on the fence for so long. The longer this went on, however, I began to realise that I can’t take one stance over another. This case is far too muddy and complicated. I don’t have enough sufficient knowledge or evidence. Nor do any of you. We literally only have Dunn’s video to go on. While it’s a good start, it’s not enough to be taken 100% as gospel when it’s the only thing to hand.

As previously mentioned, a lot of artists have decided to not take part in Inktober at all, or follow different prompt lists. That’s completely fine. A lot of them are based around a specific theme: halloween, kinky stuff, bears, transformers, OCs, Disney or whatever. That has massive appeal. I just can’d do it myself. I prefer the focus on random words, rather than all centred on a single subject; allowing me to be creative with my ideas and execution. I actually did try to make a list of my own random words. Problem is, I worried that because I was choosing my own, I might be subconsciously bias towards certain prompts and not truly challenging myself. Even narrowing down my options was taking too long. In the end…. I’ve decided to just do the official prompts again this year.

For me, that’s what it ultimately came down to. TIME. It’s the middle of September. I can’t afford to wait for the court case to be settled. No other prominent artists I respect have released their own prompt lists. I know there’s been some shitty people who are condemning this choice. Attacking others, accusing them of supporting plagiarism, looking to block anyone who does the official prompts. Even trying to make this a racial issue. Just…. no.

If someone doesn’t want to take part in Inktober, that’s fine. If someone wants to do the official prompts, that’s fine. If someone wants to do their own prompts, that’s fine.

Don’t go around aggressively making snap judgements or accusing people of taking a side. Do whatever makes you feel comfortable. This has been a shit year, let people enjoy something.

If you look at this situation and it makes you feel angry, and you don’t feel comfortable in taking part in a challenge because of it’s creator. I get that, I literally get that. It’s why I haven't done Mermay. And please don’t mention Pinktober, I’m aware of it, but given his insta video on the subject and the things he said, I quickly came to the conclusion that I can’t take this person seriously. I’m sure this might make me seem hypocritical, but how this differs, if only for me, is the sheer amount Inktober means to me. It’s more than a simple challenge. Inktober's the one thing I’ve been most excited about all year. As it was ruined for me in 2019, when I lost my home and I didn't get to complete every prompt. (Long story, I’m okay now). As we all know, 2020, has been an AWFUL year. We’ve got to take whatever joy we can. As I’ve looked longer at the official prompts, I found ideas I’m really excited for.

Once I started to really dedicate myself to it, it became a massive event. I hype myself up as I prepare for the busy month. Buy in supplies, clean the house and workspace, cook and freeze meals in bulk to save time, printing off a sheet that allows me to jot down ideas as I plan ahead. Then once it’s done, after so much work, it makes the reward all the sweeter: Ordering a takeaway, celebrating a great halloween night and still rocking those vibes throughout November. Feeling proud of myself for doing it and seeing myself improve my technique, discipline and earning a few lie-ins to make up for the sleep I lost working. I’m like a kid waiting for Christmas. That said, don’t think that there’s something wrong with you when you understandably can’t dedicate that amount time for a simple art challenge. If anything that’s plenty of reason to why you’re smarter than me. You have a life and don’t push yourself too much.

Now, I need to crack on with the preparations. If you want to boycott Jake Parker, just not buying any of his products should be enough. Doing the inktober challenge doesn't bring attention to him, as I doubt most people even know him as the creator, nor does it even line his pockets. I just hate how cancel culture can do such serious damage like this and then try and put pressure on others to act accordingly without even doing any research themselves.

As long as you’re not harassing anybody. Just do what YOU want to do. That’s fine.

#Inktober #Inktober 2020 #My two penneth #Jake Parker #alphonso dunn

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