#Though the yearning for simpler times is always there

[backonefish]

watching this is us today bc I love pain and being emotional

#This is us #March 25 #I swear I watch this movie once a year and get more upset #It's not even nostalgia #Though the yearning for simpler times is always there

[one-vivid-judgment]

You know what I love about the Ichigang? That they were all alone and at rock bottom at some point, with no one to rely on for support:

- Nanba wanted to be like Nightingale, but then got fired because he took the fall for someone else, who ended up having lied to him for her own benefits. His brother was being watched by the Geomijul and then disappeared; Nanba spent a long ass time homeless and not knowing if his brother was alive or not. 

- Adachi lived with the Kusumi incident in his conscience for years, hating Horinouchi's guts and hoping to find something to take the guy down. First he's demoted to the license center, then he's straight up fired. No job, no retirement, man never got married or had a family. The Barkeep even says he's "not usually a happy drunk" and that "it's the first time in a long time I see him smile like that".

- Saeko's family life is a DISASTER. Her mom died, her sister wants nothing to do with her (to the point where they were both working for the same guy and Nanoha EXPLICITLY told Nonomiya not to tell her sister about it, even when things were tough and she could've used Saeko's help), her dad is old and dying. She is on her own and basically only has her girls and Nonomiya—until Nonomoya dies, and she's conflicted cause sure, he wasn't the best guy around, but he was still there for her when she needed, and now he's gone. 

- Yeonsu's life, man. Yeonsu's fucking life. His dad was a drunkard who abused his son and cared about him so little that he had no qualms basically giving Yeonsu up as tribute to the Jingweon mafia to turn him into their leader's double—mind you, this means he could've been killed at any point. He basically lived as the shadow of someone else for years, never being seen for himself but for Joongi Han. 

- Zhao's Liumang leader status was passed down from his dad. He was doing a good job although he's clearly more passionate about cooking and having his restaurant—that he doesn't mind a simpler life and even EMBRACES it and gets angry when anyone suggests he's "just some chef". He still lead the Liumang though. And then his men and right hand turn on him and try to get him killed and what do you know, suddenly there is nothing anymore. 

- Seonhee was a kid when the whole Jingweon mafia shit show happened and then it all came crashing down. Her people who managed to escape alive were left on their own and abandoned until the Geomijul was created. 

- Even Eri, the optional party member, was in a similar situation. She was tricked by Hosho and her company was at the verge of shutting down, and when she thought she had a chance to get back on her feet thanks to Nonomiya's help, she finds out he died, and basically, as far as she knows, all hope is lost. 

And then, Chitose and Tomizawa. I feel they are the perfect example of how easy it is to stray and go down the wrong path when you are in that type of situation, and how even the tiniest kind gesture can do wonders to you:

- Chitose was a sheltered rich girl whose whole life was dictated by her parents. She craved the independence and the freedom and she wanted CONNECTION—which is how she ended up falling in Eiji's trap and being blackmailed for years and manipulated into using people who actually cared about her and with whom she was finally developing that connection she always yearned for. As far as she knows, said people will push her to the side as soon as they find out about her betrayal, and then she'll be alone again. 

- Tomizawa was living the live with his girlfriend, a nice job and a kid on the way—until Dwight and the Barracuda pinned their crimes on him. He went to jail, Marie lost the baby and then disappeared, he's blacklisted from every bank and had to go to Yamai for help with his debts, and after that, he basically became a puppet who did everythint Yamai asked him to out of fear. He hates himself for being a coward who's not able to pull the trigger even when it's necessary, and he blames himself for everything that happened. He is a horrible person in his own eyes, and as far as he knows, there is no getting out of this situation. 

And then there is Ichi, who has seen nothing but rock bottom for so fucking long but still manages to see the bright side of things. He is a good person, sometimes borderline stupid and his choices end up making his superiors (aka Sawashiro) mad. But it doesn't matter how much life beats him down, he always gets back up because he has that "once you hit rock bottom, the only way is up" philosophy. And, although some of his friends have used him for their benefit or straight up assaulted him, Ichi never turns his back on them. Because he KNOWS how it feels to be alone and to not have anyone there for you, anyone that you can rely on, and if he can be that someone, then he WILL be. If he can change a single person's life, he WILL. 

Anyway, I love the Ichigang so much and these are the kind of thoughts I have about them at 1 a.m

#ryu ga gotoku #yakuza like a dragon #like a dragon infinite wealth #lad infinite wealth #yakuza 8 #ichiban kasuga #yu nanba #koichi adachi #saeko mukoda #joongi han #tianyou zhao #seonhee #chitose fujinomiya #eric tomizawa #man i love the ichigang so much #something so endearing about a bunch of middle aged weirdos finding a family in esch other

[meanbossart]

its funny looking between his former fixation (orin) and current one (astarion) and noticing he has a very obvious 'type'. what made him so taken with orin, though? what did he like about her? did he not have any initial misgivings? was he ever concerned she might turn on him?

B)c Please know how happy it made me to finally have someone spell this out lmao. It's absolutely true, at least within the dynamic that DU drow shared with each of them; there are a lot of parallels to be found between Orin and Astarion.

The tough part of this question however, is that I have a very difficult time pinning Orin down. She's easily the most elusive character out of the Chosen, and while I understand this Is likely a consequence of being underwritten, I also see a certain charm in a character who's lack of development is part of their tragedy - whose story is very much about not being allowed much individuality of their own, and having no resolution. I think this is a space worth playing in.

I couldn't tell you what the hell Orin likes, what she was like besides blood-thirsty and deranged. I can barely fathom her sitting down to have a conversation with someone. Think about it - she was raised from childhood in the Bhaal temple, both her parent's were faithful servants and she was essentially groomed from birth to be either Bhaal's Chosen, the Dark Urge's consort, or a sacrificial lamb. Nobody had ANYTHING to gain from allowing her to develop any humanity.

Of course, this doesn't mean she doesn't have any, deep inside. We see glimpses of it in fairly difficult-to-get dialogue regarding her origins during act 3. My very vague take on Orin is that she was a determined and persistent person who learned to make her circumstances work for her as best as she could, who had a strong sense of her boundaries but a horrifically difficult time differentiating between negative emotions - this is why I personally don't even know whether she """"led DU drow on""" our of malice or self-preservation. Perhaps she didn't know either - I think whenever Orin felt sadness, discomfort, anger or even happiness or love, she found a way to turn it into bloodlust and sadism, every time.

And it's in part this elusiveness that would have attracted DU drow. What did Astarion have to do to get DU drow to pursue him? He had to feign disinterest, he had to pull away - the fact that Orin never allowed DU drow to get close enough to truly know her plays a significant part in how unhealthy his attachment for her became.

That said, this was a long game - he did become infatuated pretty much from the moment he saw her when they were both teenagers. This is a much simpler concept to understand - he was profoundly emotionally inept and neglected, and she was probably the prettiest thing he ever laid eyes on, not to mention the only other person in the temple close to him in age.

Truth is, they did have a lot in common on the very basis of having been so thoroughly stripped of their humanities, but It was a closeness born entirely from circumstance - the implied vulnerability in the type of life they shared together, even if they never spoke about feelings or shared what normal people would qualify as a "sweet" moment. They didn't really use their words, and when they did, they were like daggers - twisted murder sibling banter.

But when they had to work together it was very different. They played off each each other like match and friction, like two fitted cogs turning a wheel. There must have been nothing that swelled DU drow's heart more than when they killed together, perhaps even more than when Orin hurt him. He loved seeing her in her element and yearned for nothing more but to be let into the joy she found in it.

He Never had any misgivings. He always thought she would come around (to him) eventually. He was completely and entirely blind to how much her resentment towards him grew throughout the years, how he lost a sister through wanting a lover.

#ask #du drow lore #orin the red #bg3 spoilers #durge/orin

[starpotionz]

Subway Stops cont.

Y’all wanted more so here we go! This is just fluff lol. Hope you enjoy

‘Tomorrow’ the echoes of your memories whispered in your ear as your mind left the comfort of the night. A groan escaped your lips . You had wanted to help Donnie with his inventions, but he wanted to stay up all night working, which you were absolutely not ok with participating in.

You could still hear the soft rattles of said terrapin tinkering away from the cot your limbs were so delectably wrapped in. Twisting your figure around, you turned your blurry eyes to watch a master at work. You dragged the cushiony blanket further up your form to rest at your chin so you could watch Donnie and still have remnants of your blissful sleep.

Donatello make muffled grunts from frustration, his most recent technological escapade wasn’t going as smoothly as he had hoped, which, was throughly frustrating him. He knew it was the lack of sleep and coffee finally taking its tortuous toll on his body and genius mind. You were a few feet away, sleeping peacefully, almost begging to be embraced into the morn. But, he had really wanted to finish this tonight though.

“Dee” you rasped out into the chilled quiet of his lab. Speak of the the devil and she shall appear. He hummed in acknowledgment, still tinkering away at the upgrades to his computing systems.

“Come lay with me” you stretched your arms out making small grabbing motions with your hands. Donnie snorted at your babyish behavior. You’ve been very attached to him ever since he found you crying in the abandoned section of the subway all those years ago.

He wasn’t complaining per say, but he’d rather have you clinging onto his physique every moment you could spare than have you be numbingly distant. Only you would be granted the pleasure of consistent physical affection by the one and only Donatello.

He sighed in acceptance and dragged his exhausted form towards your quaint abode. Reaching you rather smoothly he would say, Donnie released all strings keeping him upright and let gravity take him into your arms.

His fatigued body fell directly into your waiting arms. You pulled him flush into your warmed form as you let blanket consume you both in its warmth and comfort. Your nose was ghosting small touches along his snout, you eyes danced across his face drinking in his deep-set eye bags and tired expression. Even in his most brain dead state you terrapin was still gorgeous in your eyes. Even if he possessed highly unhealthy habits, you knew that wouldn’t stop you from yearning to be with him.

“I can feel you staring” he hummed with his eyelids still down casting his sharp eyes. You gave a light giggle and brushed your hand against his cheek, Donnie replying with a soft sigh of delight at your tender touch.

Your heartbeat aligned with his one to create a wondrous symphony of life that enveloped the quiet atmosphere of the blanket submerging you both in its fluffy threads. The silence was filled to the brim with unspoken emotion, one’s that Donnie knew all too well. Especially considering it was you he was talking about, you would always say the silent moments speak the loudest. Donatello, who had felt your sparkling eyes leave his handsome features broke the silence to relay an important statement.

“It’s ok to stare. I know I’m the most handsome turtle you’ve ever had the pleasure of laying your eyes upon” He jested as he pushed his snout to press against your nose.

“Oh are you now?” You snickered rubbing your nose more so against his in a nose kiss. Those were always your favorite, especially since you had been sharing them long before you had confessed your yearning for him. They were the one constant in your life that reminded you of simpler times. Even if those simpler time didn’t involve heated kisses in the shadows of his room, you cherished them nonetheless.

“Scoff as if anyone can idk come close to mwah” he quipped raising a three fingered hand to caress your soft locks. His lips brought so close to yours. So close and yet so far away. His drier lips grazed your chapstick laced ones, his eyes half lidded looking in your very soul.

Higher power above have mercy his eyes could never fail to see into the deepest crevices of your entire being. Even with his severe lack of social skills his eyes could see it all. All of you, everything you were are and could be.

You leaned forward to connect your lips to his but he moved out of your reach. You cried leaning further to get those lips of honey upon your own. Even with your cries Donnie kept his lips right out of your touch.

“Please don’t tease me” you whined. Your form shifted around still seeking the sweet escape of his mouth.

“I do no such thing until you say the magic words love” Donnie smiled at your whines of disapproval.

You huffed in exasperation. Of course he wanted you to stroke his enflamed ego. He could be a very self conscious turtle but he had an infinite hubris no one could match.

“Donatello you are the most handsome turtle to ever exist ever” you relented trying to appease him so you can finally get the kisses you deserved.

“Mhm that’s more like it” he whispered as he brought his lips upon yours in a tidal wave of passion. His lips molded against yours in a scorching heat.

You thanked every deity you could comprehend for letting this vehement turtle into your life in that abandoned subway.

Yo I did another one!! HAHAHHA just in time for Valentine’s Day. I hope u enjoyed this extra piece to subway stops! Cowabunga 🤘🏻

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt donnie x reader #donatello x reader #donnie x reader #subway stops #rise donnie x reader #rise of tmnt #rise!donnie #rise!donnie x reader #rise donatello

[petewentzisblack1312]

for ioh's 16th anniversary, i present to you:

dyke is not a synonymy for shitty: ginasfs from a butch lesbian perspective

'i loved everything about you that hurt' to me feels like an admission. the persona loved the way her muse kept her tethered to the lie she was living. she loves the thing she hates about him. and even though the facade is falling apart, and it hurts to keep it in place, this is what's familiar ('the prince of any failing empire knows that everybody wants/to drive on through the night if its the drive back home' the prince in this case is our persona, a butch lesbian who has recently ended a relationship with a boy that she kept alive out of comphet). things arent the same anymore. shes a different person, or maybe the same person she always was, just openly. she wears his clothes and acts his part, and she know shes not supposed to look like this, be like this, but maybe this is her way of doing what shes told (its a strange way of saying that i know i'm supposed to love you). and maybe she yearns for the comfortable cage she knew, because freedom is unfamiliar, its unlike anything shes known before, and shes tries to go back to what she knows (ive already given up on myself twice/third time is the charm/threw caution to the wind but ive got a lousy arm). and she takes the memory of the boy she made herself love, and she imagines herself playing the part she was always told she had to, even if it doesnt fit, because denial is an intoxicating thing, oblivion is often bliss. (figured on not figuring myself out). and its not like the relationship was loveless. the persona loved him. he saved her life. but every kiss lingers, and not necessarily in a good way.

i want to take a moment to note the difference in prechorus lyrics. at first its "some nights they get so bad/you almost pick up the phone" and "some nights they get so bad/i almost pick up the phone" theres a lot of ways to interpret these lines, whos calling who, whos phone is ringing, but i think my favourite interpretation is that both the persona and her ex are considering making a call. some nights it gets so bad he almost calls her, in a bid to love someone who wont love him. some nights it gets so bad she almost calls him, in a bid to go back to a simpler time.

#dils declares #dils dissects #ginasfs #ioh

[pedanticat-scratching-post]

Oscar Pine Herbalist Trip

What If Oscar fell in the Everafter and was confronted by a past version of himself when meeting Herb?

What are you? Are you sure you know? You have to be sure of what you are, and of what you’re going to be. 

These were the words Oscar heard as he suddenly found himself in a seemingly endless dark void that was filled with nothing but the very same billowing smoke that the Herbalist had created. His eyes desperately darted around the surroundings as he tried to find his friends.

“Ruby!” Oscar yelled as he continued to scan the void. “Yang? Hello? Ugh, where the heck are we Oz?”  

I don’t know, but the important thing is to stay calm. We need to-

Whatever Oz was about to say ended up getting interrupted as Oscar found himself coughing as the smoke that he inhaled exited out of him. Though things became even stranger as that very said smoke began to take shape until said shape ended up taking the form of himself. Or at least, a past version of himself that still wore his former farmwear attire with a clone now smiling at him. 

“Wh…what?” Oscar stuttered. “Ho…how is this even possible?” 

“You don’t have to save the world you know,” Past Oscar. “You can go back to being just a simple farmhand.” 

Oscar took a step back in shock. He was already confused over being in yet another strange world, but now he was talking to a past version of himself. This didn’t make any sense. 

“What are you talking about?” Oscar asked. 

“Oh come now,” Past Oscar said as he waved a hand dismissively. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Going back to your old life. A simpler life. A life where all you had to worry about was tending to the farm.” 

“Why would I want that?” Oscar asked. Though even as the words left his mouth, he knew the actual reason why such a question would be asked. 

“Because you don’t want to lose who you are,” Past Oscar explained. “You don’t have to be yet another person forced into fighting in a never-ending war against an immortal monster. You can just go back to being you. Regular old Oscar Pine. No identity crisis, no torture, just you. Isn’t that what you want? To be just you again?” 

Oscar soaked in the words that he had just heard. It was as if this past version of himself had uttered all the doubts and desires that have weighed on his mind ever since his journey first began all those months ago. Even though he’s been inspired to help protect remnant and to step up as a hero despite the threat of no longer being himself, a part of him still yearned for that simpler time in his life. Back when he was living blissfully ignorant about the greater danger that threatened Remnant. Back when his life wasn’t constantly being threatened and worried about no longer being himself. He was being offered a chance to fulfill a desire that he had still yearned for deep down but accepted that it wasn’t possible. But now it seemingly was possible. And with Ozpin remaining silent, it seemed like this was a choice Ozpin would allow himself to choose with no intervention. 

He wanted nothing more than to accept this offer…but then he thought about everything that has occurred to him since the day Oz entered his life. For all the physical and emotional pain, he’s gone through on this journey, there were a lot of pleasant memories as well. He had grown to become the very hero he had dreamt of being with him making a difference in the world. Gotten a big sister in the form of Nora whose bear crushing hugs always made his days brighter. Formed a brotherly bond with Jaune who had taken him under his wing with the two training together and simply hanging out. And most importantly, gotten to meet Ruby Rose, the most amazing person he’d ever met in his life. She was like the very hero of the very stories he grew up reading and aspired to be with her always lifting him up during all those times he found himself consumed by worry and fear. And he now wanted to desperately do the same for her since he’s been noticing how withdrawn she has been while in the Everafter. Accepting this offer would result in not only losing the chance to help Remnant but also helping the people he’s grown to care about. 

With his fists now clenched, he stared back at his duplicate in defiance. “No. Maybe that life was easier, but it was also a life of complacency where I was neither making a difference in the world nor growing as a person. I am scared about no longer being the same person I once was, but I’m not going to let that fear prevent me from doing what’s right. I’m going to help save both the world and the people that I care about, but not because I’m Ozma or Ozpin, or anyone else. I’m doing it because of who I am, and who I am is Oscar Pine!”  

#RWBY #Oscar Pine #Ruby Rose #RWBY Rosegarden #RWBY volume 9 #RWBY V9 #nora valkyrie #Ozpin #Ozma #drabbles

[callsignfangs]

Hear me out. Plushie collector ghost. Thanks 😇😇

Cws: comic ghosts backstory, grief, hurt/comfort, etc (lmk if i’ve missed anything! 😚)

Like most things in Ghost’s lifetime, it all started with his family.

Well, more specifically, his nephew Joseph.

It was back when things were simpler, right after the little one’s first birthday, yet right before he’d trusted himself to go on deployment again.

He’d offered to pick up some shopping for Beth, seeing as Tommy was busy at work and their usual stroller had finally given up the ghost. She’d insisted for Simon to get a specific brand of baby food - the formula type didn’t matter, but she’d been ‘trying to wean him off for weeks’ and if it was any other type he’d ‘just bash it off the spoon like some wild bloody animal’. Simon had teased the tot for ‘giving his mum gyp’ and being ‘a picky little thing’ (Tommy had explicitly banned him from swearing in front of the kid, lest the kid would pick up Simon’s own foul language). It was alright though, Simon could never really hold anything against that doe-eyed, chubby-faced little baby, that silly little thing had already snatched up his heart in those pudgy fingers.

His shocking, immeasurable love for the boy had probably been the reason that, when he first glanced at that stupid teddy in the window of the baby shop he’d been forced to visit at Beth’s request (demand), he instantly knew he needed it.

It wasn’t really anything too fancy. A plush little thing with fake, sewn-on patches. It wasn’t even particularly fuzzy or stimulating, it was just… It just felt right.

He’d tucked the scruffy thing in his pocket after paying. His first thought had been to bolt to Tommy’s house and instantly deposit the little thing into Joseph’s uncoordinated arms.

But, it had just been his birthday, and he’d been absolutely spoiled rotten by the three of them. Simon didn’t doubt that his little bed was already smothered in toys and teddies. Maybe it would be better to wait a little while. Just until everything had calmed down a bit.

After dropping the supplies off with Beth, he’d made a decision. The plush would be a gift for after he came back from deployment - a memoir in the case that he didn’t. His decision to rejoin the military wasn’t one he’d made on the spot, of course. This little life he’d watched - and helped - Tommy build was something he adored to bits. However, there was something missing. The wage was pretty penny as well. That sense of purpose and brotherhood, sticking with one another through everything - exactly what the remains of the little boy in him yearned for. It was obvious to him that he couldn’t leave it behind, that little bear was just more of an incentive. One to come back, to remind him to trudge through no matter what and return home. He couldn’t just up and leave everything he’d helped build.

Little did he know at the time, he’d have it all ripped away anyways. Yanked out of his too-delicate grip, torn away from right under his nose like he was sure everything else would be.

To this day, he really doesn’t know why he kept that stupid little plushie. He didn’t even remember grabbing it, must’ve just bagged it like the rest of his shit after he left. He couldn’t stay there anymore - there wasn’t a thing about that place, those - now tainted - memories that didn’t wrap his stomach in knots.

Grief was a weird thing, really. It made him do weird things that he still didn’t really understand, and, he supposed this was one of them.

That little thing had accompanied him for god knows how long after. He’d only realised it was there when Roba was finally gone, and he’d been swooped up by Price into 141. Still in the same clothes as he had been in when he’d left, he figured it was a wise idea to get rid of them. Shed the last remnant of what he’d left behind.

Habit was the only reason he’d found the thing. His mum had practically hammered it into him that you ‘always check the pockets before the wash, Si, you’ll never imagine the goodies you find in ‘um.’ - hearing his mumma’s voice hurt, even in his own head, so he determinedly pushed it down, still clearing out the pockets in spite of it.

And, much to his surprise, his hand met that patchy little surface. (Maybe mum was right.)

It eventually found a home on his bed, tucked safely under the blanket his mother had gifted him, alongside Tommy’s hoodie - the one he’d mistaken for his own in the rush.

And then, there was a second plushie - this one was unexpected too.

He’d been on a mission in the Baltics - a bloody brutal one at that. Had to stakeout in an evacuated town with Price and Gaz for a painfully long while. Just like the first (Joseph’s), he’d caught an idle glimpse of it when the three were stalking around the town for a decent place to camp out in for the night. To his - very well masked - delight, the little house itself had been perfect as well. Overall untouched by the days of shelling and structurally well-off. The insulation was even somewhat intact.

As they made their way in, he noticed Price accidentally kick at the ragged thing as they entered. It had taken every ounce of strength he had not to either blow up at Price or immediately dart to cradle the worn plush in his arms. He’d internally attribute it to his raging grief at the time - the wound of his loss still jagged and gushing.

Like the good little soldier he was, though, he stuffed away all his burning feelings into his box, shoving it to the deep recesses of his mind alongside the memory of that night.

Originally, he’d decided to leave the thing alone. Keep the hurt shoved away and let anything that tugged at it be shoved down alongside it.

But some part of him- no. Simon ached and throbbed and clawed at his impenetrable, uncaring persona (what if that was Joseph’s? it wailed. he didn’t want to listen.). Was it weak? Absolutely. Selfish? Probably. Pretty weird? Yeah.

It didn’t stop him from snatching the toy up as they left, though.

The new addition to his - unbeknownst to him - growing collection found a home next to his other bear.

He’d insisted that it would be the last. It wasn’t.

The third was from Laswell.

It was before she was married - before she was even dating the lovely woman she now called her wife. Her house had been one of the many subjected to the disastrous british rain, with the whole bottom floor of her house being practically completely flooded. The task force had scrambled to help, of course, offering everything from money to offering up their services as glorified handymen. Laswell had declined, of course. She already had a well paying job and more than enough to get some repairs, all she needed was a place to stay.

Each and every one of the boys would have taken her in in a heartbeat, if not for them being in service. They weren’t exactly meant to leave base, let alone offer their apartments as temporary hotels to someone non-military.

So, naturally, they’d offered up the base instead. It wasn’t exactly pretty, and there wasn’t a guest room, but it was floodwater-free and the couch was decently cosy. It was better, and more convenient, than an impromptu hotel stay right in the middle of tourist season, so Laswell had begrudgingly accepted.

Ghost hadn’t even known about the arrangement until he had finally returned from a dull day of training up stupid, whiny little recruits and was fully planning on stripping and dropping into bed without a second thought.

And he was immediately greeted by Laswell, holed up on the couch with the telly on and wearing a pair of pjs.

Simon wasn’t gonna have that. He couldn’t give less of a shit if it was one of the recruits, the annoying little bastards, but Laswell? The woman who had guided them constantly, always tucked away in their ears when things got bad?

Simon wasn’t having this at all.

The stubbornness of the two made it a long, gruelling task, which basically ended with Ghost - as respectfully as one possibly could - manhandling Laswell into his room. He hadn’t paid the teddies a single thought, much more concerned with getting Laswell - Kate - comfy and situated, even giving her dibs over his laptop full of pirated films for the night.

Clearly, though, Laswell had paid those tiny little plushies some thoughts, seeing as, after she’d finally returned home and been given time to recoup, a box addressed to Simon - not Ghost, never Ghost to her - landed on his doorstep. Well, bedroom door, but what really was the difference on base?

He’d opened the little present to find a hand-knitted bear. A stark white one, with beady little eyes and a neatly tied ribbon along its neck. It was accompanied by a handwritten note, thanking him for letting her sleep in his room, yet with a very passive aggressive - heavy on the aggressive part - warning to ‘never try that goddamn shit again, Simon, don’t fucking test me.’

That bear, too, found a home in his collection. This one was really a turning point for him.

The other two, while painfully dear to him, were shrouded in agonising memories, letting the bloody, nasty bits of his past creep up on him again.

This one, though? This was Laswell’s - it was Kate’s. She’d taken the time to make it by hand, each loop of string infused with a kind of warmth. This one was gentle, was kind.

That was when his collection really ballooned. Suddenly, the stupid toys weren’t violent, leeching memories from before. They were something new, something sweet and delicate and so, so painfully kind. Embarrassingly enough, it became a bit of a comfort, letting the soft trio against his headboard turn into his little quartet. Then a group. And, before he knew it, he practically had an army taking over his bed. He was more than content with it, of course. It was comfortable, at the very least.

And, honestly? It was a bit of a reminder. That he could grow, and change. That the death and pain and fiery hurt wasn’t everything. That, maybe, just maybe, the tragic ending to one chapter didn’t need to taint the rest.

#simon ghost riley #call of duty #cod fanfic #soft ghost #lil guy ghost #hes just a little guy #hes trying his best #pre ghoap #maybe #if i continue this #fangs drabbles

[amorfista]

How do you think the Opress brothers would react to places where female and male are equals ? If they see what a "normal" family looks like. A mother, a father and their children living together. Must be a shock.

Thank you for asking! ❤️ (and sorry for the late reply! I rewrote this 5 times ;v;) THIS IS ALL MY SPECULATION!! Don't take this seriously lol -I think Feral would feel curiousity at first, and then nostalgia/longing would seep in apparently out of nowhere? Perhaps he'd imagine himself holding his own child, kissing her lover's forehead and living a simpler life. But I'm sure this would only be a fleeting thought. Feral loves his brothers over everything else in the galaxy; that's all he has and all he needs. -Savage might stare with slight surprise but immediately smile. He's VERY empathetic so he'd feel good for the happy family. He might even wonder what it'd be like to be a father, too. He's got plenty of love to give, after all. For now, taking good care of his siblings is all he can think of. -Maul might not understand at first. He's still struggling with the power game, and even though it's getting easier now, he still finds himself imposing authority over his siblings. The thought of having a mate and children... It never crossed his mind. How much trust does it take to forge a maintain a relationship based on equality? When we're talking about Savage and Feral, it's easy. They share blood, they are all males. if it wasn't for his trauma, he'd consider them equals without question. He'd ponder for a while without noticing and frown, deciding his conclusion to be that he wants nothing of the sort to cause further complications in his life. But that same night he'd find himself thinking about the family again. Looking at his siblings, both sound asleep and lightly snoring-purring on their respective bunk beds, he'd scoff and shake his head, coming to the realisation that he doesn't need to yearn for something that he, in fact, already possesses. Sorry if I went a little overboard and slightly offtopic ;v; also sorry that the conclusions are the same. I wanted to strengthen and emphasize the idea of their loving bond, and I genuinely feel that's what they'd think haha. Thank you again for the question! It was a nice exercise, and I always love getting in my favourite Zabrak's minds C: Have a great day and thank you for your patience! <33

#question #opress brothers #savage opress #feral opress #maul opress

[dixonlvr-online]

Mine to lose Part 3: "Leah"

Pairings: Daryl Dixon x Reader, Daryl Dixon x Leah

Genre: Angst

Summary: A love triangle story inspired by Taylor Swift's songs betty, august, and cardigan

A/N: if you'd like to be on the taglist please reply or message me :)

masterlist | previous, next

Leah couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

The afternoon sun was streaming in, bathing the room in light and warming her skin. She was sitting at the dining table, peeling carrots from the garden, which had been prosperous in recent months. It was a good day.

But still, she was bothered. 

Daryl had been gone most of the day, leaving before she’d awoken. She knew it was to visit Alexandria, though he never told her so. She could see it in his face when he mentioned leaving for a day. It never escaped her notice when he evaded the subject. Sometimes he couldn’t say the name at all, only “the communities” or “my people.”

He still called them his people. And yes, Leah knew about Y/N, his “person.” At least, his person before he came to live here, with her.

Now, Leah hoped, she was his person. They spent everyday together, had been living together for months, had built a life together. That meant they belonged to each other, right?

She was startled from her thoughts when the door opened, Daryl stepping through. He nodded in a way of hello, depositing his gear by the front door. Leah smiled, standing to greet him.

“How was your day?” she asked, leaning in to kiss him. He kissed her back, he always kissed her back, but he pulled away quickly this time.

“Alright. Nothin’ special,” he grunted. Daryl placed a gentle hand on her waist as he moved around her, heading for the kitchen.

She watched as he picked an apple from the bowl and bit into it ravenously, devouring the thing in a minute or two. The pair sat in the quiet, the only sound between them the crunch of his apple. When he finished, Leah spoke up.

“Did you go to Alexandria?” she said. Daryl paused, hand still up to wipe the juice from his face. He swallowed thickly, rigidly resuming the motion.

“Yeah, I did. There a problem with that?” he said. 

Leah shook her head. “Just wondering. You see everyone?”

Daryl finally met her eyes. “Saw Michonne. That’s it. She’s good,” he said.

“Good,” Leah smiled. The air was thick with tension, the two of them staring at each other without a clue of what to say. Leah took a tentative step forward, hoping to lighten the mood.

“You tired?” she asked, reaching for his hand. Daryl shook his head, no. “Good,” she smiled, placing his hand on her waist. 

She leaned in to kiss him, placing enough pressure there so he’d understand her intentions. He only hesitated a moment before reciprocating, walking her back to the bedroom.

No matter how tense things got when words were involved, at least they knew this worked.

–

Some time later, Leah studied Daryl in his sleep, admiring the way his long hair fell down his face, the way his lips slightly parted as he breathed.

She yearned to reach out and touch him, but when she’d done that in the past he’d woken up with a start. Hunter’s instincts, she assumed. She got it. She was always alert and ready, too. But she’d mellowed a bit when she met him, his presence making her feel safe.

She pulled her eyes from him, leaning her head back on the pillow. The ceiling was a perfect canvas for her racing thoughts to spill onto. Thoughts of Daryl, of the first day they met, their first conversations, their first kisses. She smiled at the memories.

They’d shared so much, given everything to each other, it felt natural to believe he was hers and she was his. She wanted him and he wanted her. Could it be any simpler?

Daryl shifted in his sleep, breaths quickening. Leah turned to watch him again, noticing the way his eyes fluttered in dream state. Surely, he wouldn’t let his guard down like this to someone he didn’t intend to keep?

“No, no,” he mumbled in his sleep, voice low and agitated. Leah shuffled closer, leaning in to hear the words. He was breathing the words out, most unintelligible, but one word had Leah frozen in an instant.

“Y/N,” he whispered, over and over. Leah listened closer, hoping she heard wrong, but her fear was confirmed when he said it again. She bit her lip to stifle tears, willing herself not to shake him awake right then and there.

“Y/N,” he dreamed, “Y/N…”

----

taglist: @thefemininemystiquee

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #twd #the walking dead #norman reedus #mine to lose series

[snowy-squids]

Scrapbook

Previous | First | Next

Squidbeak Masterpost

Summary: “Callie always liked to revisit her past- it was a simpler time, and reminded her of times were she wasn’t busy 24/7 between her job making music alongside her cousin, and working with the Squidbeak as Agent 1. One night, she chooses to revisit them once more, in Octo Canyon- a place she hasn’t been to in a long time.”

This is my first time posting writing to Tumblr, so I hope the tagging and formatting is fine. Also, for peace of mind- any romance oriented scenes between Callie and 3/Violet is when both are over 18, and both characters are the same age.

Callie always liked the quiet of the Squidbeak's outpost located in Octo Canyon. Sure, it wasn't the most recent one established, but it was in better condition than the one in Octo Valley. Additionally, it wasn’t in a desert that was as hostile to inkfish as possible, like Splastivlle’s.

It had been what, 5 years since 4 had finally brought her back to the surface she missed so much? Though she doesn’t have many memories of that time. Even with Marie and 4’s (Abigail? That’s what her name was, right?) help, everything was foggy.

She picks up an old scrapbook in the outpost's cabin. She’s been working on it for a while. It’s filled to the brim with photos, alongside glitter glue, stickers, and paper cutouts.

As she flips through the pages, she thinks about the days long gone. The memories she’s held onto over the years.

—————

Callie and Marie were 10 when they entered Calamari County's Folk Singing Contest. Quite young to be entering, but both were prodigies. Or perhaps early bloomers, being able to reliably switch forms at a younger age than most inkfish.

Callie flips through a book of sheet music, singing to herself as her cousin sits on a chair, fidgeting. This is their last practice session before the big day, something the reef squid was worried about but didn't say so. Marie was the more vocal one when it came to complaints, after all.

“Do you think we can even win? I know we've been practicing for months, but they always have hundreds of entries. And a lot of people aren’t even from Inkadia.” Marie says, her voice barely a whisper.

Callie grins. “I know we can do it! Gramps says we've got the best singing voices he's ever heard!”

“He hasn't heard anyone sing outside of us for years.”

The two young squids didn't know at the time that they would win. Nor that they would get a standing ovation. It was the most exciting day of their childhood. Proof that they had talent that could be honed into something amazing.

—————

It was 5 years later when the agent approached them. If there was one thing that was common knowledge, it was that most idols started off young. Sure, exceptions existed, but most got their first deal before they were even 18.

“You just need to sign the contract.” the Inkling says. She had introduced herself as Shy-Ho-Shy, and had taken an interest in the two recently. “I assume you've talked with your parents about this, yes?”

Callie nods firmly, while Marie gives a quiet thumbs-up. Callie bounces from foot to foot, but Marie shows no expression.

“Good. Now, here's a pen. Please know that this is binding and...”

Callie has signed the paper before Shy-Ho-Shy has even finished her legal jargon. Marie follows soon after, a bit apprehensive.

The idea of being recognized was something that Callie somewhat yearned for. She despised her job at Walleye Warehouse. After all, inkfish were not known for their physical strength, and the job paid only a few thousand G above minimum wage. It was hard labor that she only did since it paid the bills.

Perhaps now things could take a turn for the better. At least- that’s what Callie hoped for.

—————

The first day of hosting the news was a nerve-wracking one. Callie had performed for an audience before, it was a constant for what, 2 years now? Time was something that was hard for her to get a grasp on. But this was something that was a big deal- the two would go live to all of Inkadia.

The back of Callie's outfit is laced up, and she fidgets with one of her head-tentacles. She had been growing them out for a while, and perhaps one pro was that she had something to grab onto when she was nervous. She flashes a thumbs-up to Marie, who is finishing her makeup.

“You two will be on air in 10 minutes.” a lobster says as the two walk to the recording studio. Callie holds her head up in faux confidence, hoping that maybe, just maybe, her fear can be cloaked. She is so excited for this, but there’s so much that could go wrong.

The two go to their places, having memorized the script given to them over many days and rehearsals. The dynamic they two were marketed with was the bubbly airhead and the snide straightwoman.

Luckily, Callie could play her role well.

“Action!”

Callie is the first to speak.

“Hold onto your tentacles!”

Marie follows up after.

“It's time for Inkopolis News!”

—————

Callie and Marie had been hosting the news for the year when Shy-Ho-Shy approached them with a proposal.

“We were thinking, since your contract for the news is ending soon, that perhaps we may host a more special Splatfest.” she says. “An idol showdown, where Inklings fight to see who comes out on top- Callie, or Marie. It also dovetails well with your endeavors in solo performances.

”Are you sure?“ Marie asks. ”If I were you, I'd do a double take.”

Marie wasn't wrong, all things considered. Splatfests were a heated debate, often ending in drama and discourse. Many times Callie got death threats as well, usually when her team won. Something like this could easily tear the internet to shreds.

“It's more a publicity thing.” Shy insists. “I'm sure this would get plenty of coverage.“

”I'm aware. But, well. This is a disaster waiting to happen-“ Callie starts.

By then, it's too late. The papers have been signed, and the theme of the final Splatfest has been set in stone.

—————

The publicity stunt worked. Perhaps too well. The Squid Sisters were one of the most popular bands in Inkadia, yes. But the fallout of the Splatfest had been nuclear. Even weeks later, Callie got heavy amounts of drama in her Squidder feed. Sure, it was a small amount compared to the praise. But it refused to go away, no matter how many users and tags Callie blocked.

Perhaps that's why she found herself drawing in hedonistic pleasures and vices. Using it to suppress her feelings.

Perhaps that's why she found herself in Octo Valley. It had been a few months since her grandfather established his ”Squidbeak“, one she found both herself and Marie dragged into unwillingly. An attempt to settle old grudges, but covered her hands with blood instead,

Perhaps that's why she talked with Octavio. She felt alone, alienated. Drowning in drama she could never escape. Wanting something more in life.

Perhaps that's why she picked up a crowbar on the ground, and struck it down on Octavio's prison. Even if her mind told her not to.

Perhaps that's why she blacked out shortly after hearing the glass shatter and crash to the ground.

—————

The view from Callie's room is beautiful. It's located high above Dome 1, the richest of the various underground bunkers retrofitted into living space for the Octarian Empire. Every night, she can see light shining from the city, bathing the apartment in a pale glow.

She reaches a hand to her fin, where a pair of glasses sit. Octavio gave them to her when she woke up, in a recovery unit underground. Callie was also told to never take them off. Ever.

She didn't. Cuttlefish told her many stories of what Octavio was like a long time ago, and the Octarian leader was one that rarely abandoned his old ways. And at the same time, she didn’t want to take them off. They looked fresh, after all.

Callie got used to it eventually. The music softly playing through the shades, soothing her and making her be more willing to do what Octavio told her. The strict routine she was held to. The way she would sometimes wake up somewhere without knowing where she was, or how she got there.

She hears the door open, and then the footsteps of an Octoling woman around her age. Callie had seen her many times before, and the two even talked. Her name was Crystal, and she was the granddaughter of Octavio.

”Oh, hello, Crystal.“ Callie says. The way the words sound to her are foreign. Not of inkling origin. But she’s gotten used to her voice sounding off. It’s been like that since she woke up in recovery.

Crystal nods her head. ”Hello, Callie. My grandfather wanted me to tell you the latest news.“

”About the new Agent?“

Crystal nods. ”That's the case. She's been draining our power supply. She seems to be quite clever. She can evade our forces, and take out most she can’t outrun.“

”That's how every Agent is, Crys. I was just as cunning as her before I arrived here.“

”I'm aware, but well. She was able to shut down one of Octavio's superweapons. The Octo Oven. Even with all of his failsafes, it got destroyed.”

Callie presses her hand to the bridge of the shades. ”You're joking.“

”I'm not. I’m worried, in all honesty. The other weapons seem to be fine, including the General’s mech, but who knows how long it’ll be until they’ve been destroyed? Or our power supply runs out?”

Crystal sighs.

“I’m scared. I really am.”

“I know how you feel, Crys. To have everything taken from you.”

Crystal smiles, before looking at Callie, as if she remembered something.

“By the way, Octavio wants you to go down to the studio tonight for a recording session. I have no idea what for, but well. I’m sure whatever it is for is going to be special.”

Crystal then turns around, getting ready to leave the room before Callie holds out a hand.

”Wait.“

Crystal turns around. ”What is it?“

”I was just hoping for some company. It gets lonely up here.“

”I understand. I'd love to stay, but well. My grandfather is waiting. He’s an impatient man.”

Crystal closes the door, leaving Callie alone once again. It's like she can never escape the alienation.

She can hear the music again. It melts her feelings away, and soon, she is getting ready to go to the studio. Callie knows that the people here love her.

Perhaps soon, she will feel like she belongs even more.

—————

”My name is Abigail Torres. It's nice to finally meet you formally.“

It's been a day since Callie was freed from the underground. Her left eye hurts, from the piercing shot of Marie's Hero Charger. Her head hurts, from the aftershocks of being snapped out of mind control. In fact? Every part of her hurts. Even with painkillers.

She's still groggy when the new girl introduces herself. Callie slowly lifts her head, and smiles- but it’s hard to do so.

“It’s nice to meet you, Abigail. I. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I did. I, I didn’t think he’d keep me under his control. That I was his pawn.” Callie chokes out, each word having force behind it.

Abigail puts a hand on Callie’s shoulder, and looks the squid in the eyes.

“Don’t worry about it- I forgive you. Callie, you were played for a fool. So was I. It sucks so much. I don’t know how I feel.”

“That’s what being an Agent is like.” Callie responds, long pauses between the words. “It’s tough. Emotional. You get used to it.”

An awkward thumbs up accompanies her statement.

“I see…”

But Callie is lying. She has never gotten used to it. Even after 2 years of service, Callie feels great regret in her Agent work. And she knows it’s the same for Marie.

But that’s too much for her brain to process; she falls asleep once again.

—————

Callie never liked going to hospitals. The smell of antiseptic, chemicals, and sickness always was revolting to her. But 3, or no, Violet, was here, and Callie had yet to visit the inkling. She had taken a shine to the Agent since the two first properly met. Callie still remembered xir coming out of the domes, crying and saying over and over that xe was a monster.

But that was years ago.

Callie knocks on a door, labeled with “Toyama, Violet”.

“Come in.”

Callie pushes the door open, in the middle sits Violet. Bandages cover her right eye and left arm. An IV drips painkillers into the Inkling's body. Under Violet’s eyes are dark circles, from little sleep.

“Violet, you're okay.”

“Okay. That's one way to put it, considering I've been here for a week, and still am going to be here for another all things considered. It’s been hard to sleep. Hard to move. Hard to not think about the Metro.”

“But you're alive, isn't that what matters.”

“Sure.”

Callie walks closer to Violet, lightly holding the Inkling's left hand. Violet weakly smiles.

“I heard about what happened from Abigail.” Violet weakly says. “I. I know what it feels like. To be controlled by an outside force, to be commanded to kill, despite every little part of you trying to hold it back. To hurt somebody you care for, and pay the price.”

Callie feels a burning on her side. Where her stylists in the underground tattooed an octopus onto her body. It never came off, no matter how hard she scrubbed and tried to wash it away. An ever-present sign of what had happened to her that refused to go away.

“I don't like to think about it.”

“I know.”

Violet rubs her finger on Callie's hand.

“I missed you. I wish I was there. I wish I could've stopped it before it was too late.”

“You couldn't. By the time it happened, you and Gramps were gone.”

“A woman can dream.”

Violet lightly presses her other hand on a button to her right, releasing painkillers.

“I'm glad to be back.” is the last thing Violet says before xe falls asleep, and Callie leaves the room.

—————

Cuttlefish rarely calls meetings for the Squidbeak. His mind and body have been withering away, causing him to forget things constantly. After all, most inkfish don’t live for over 130 years- even with medical advancements.

“Well, girls, it's been an honor.”

Callie, Marie, Violet, Abigail, and Samantha all sit together in the outpost cabin, squeezed in tight. Cuttlefish stands at the door, leaning on his cane, hand shaking.

“But I'm getting too old for this. I'm not as spry as I used to be.”

He laughs, but that laugh evolves into coughing.

“Because of that, 3, I think it's about time I pass the role of captain onto you. Out of the lot, you have gone through the most, and been a shining example of what the Squidbeak is all about.”

Violet looks at Cuttlefish, eyes glassy. Like an angelfish caught in headlights.

”Me? Why me?“ Xe says. ”I don't deserve it. All I did was be Tartar's pawn, go through the Octarian underground and leave a trail of blood behind, and just. Be a monster! I don't deserve it, I think Marie does more, she was the one who helped with the Callie situation.“

The Inkling chokes back a sob. Marie squeezes her hand.

”Well, Mx, you can't make crab cakes without breaking eggs...“

”That's easy for you to fucking say-“ Violet yells through a gritted beak. She leans forwards, wanting to tackle the old man, but Callie holds her back.

”He's already old and senile enough.“ the reef squid whispers. “A strong wind could knock him down.”

But with all their pleading, Violet's claims land on deaf ears. They are given the Captain's hat, and a box with their new uniform.

The first thing Callie sees as soon as xe receives it is xem pushing the box under a bench and swapping the hat out with xir military beret.

—————

It's a clear night when Callie and Violet meet for the first time in weeks. Both had been very busy, life beginning to take over. It was a given, as Callie was starting to record new music alongside her cousin, while Violet checked out the new inksports scene.

The two squids sit on the rooftop of Callie and Marie's apartment, located in Inkopolis' central district.

“It's a nice night, isn't it?” Callie asks.

“Yeah.” Violet responds. “But why did you ask to meet here, of all places?”

“Because I wanted to talk. In person.” Callie responds, fidgeting with a tentacle. “I thought this would be a nice place to do it.”

“There's more to it.” Violet responds, curious. They were the type who knew how to read Callie- albeit not as well as Marie.

“There is.” Callie responds, her face covered in a bright pink blush. “Violet. For the longest time, I've taken a shine to you. You've been one of my best friends through this whole Squidbeak thing, and well. One of the few people I really could relate to.”

Violet looks at her with confusion.

“I think it's because. I love you.”

Violet is startled. Her jaw drops open.

“You're lying, right?”

Callie shakes her head, and Violet begins speaking.

“Because. I've loved you too. I thought it was just a silly celebrity crush. But now we are in the same boat. That we've gone through so much. It's obvious it was more than that.”

Violet smiles.

“I love you, Callie. I really do. It isn’t a lie or something I’ve repressed for years.”

Callie pulls Violet in for a hug, and Violet gently wraps her head-tentacles around the idol’s. Kissing, of course, isn't exactly practical when you have a beak that can tear flesh and a tongue lined with hundreds of small teeth meant to tear up food.

And that night, under the stars. Callie feels accomplished. That there is nowhere for life to go but up.

—————

Callie can see a look of both fear and pity cross Violet’s face when an Octoling in his early 20s comes knocking on the door of the organization's outpost in the Splatsville Desert. He holds a notepad in his hands, and a bandage is wrapped around his left eye.

“Who are you? Usually we don't get visitors!“ Callie says, grinning.

”Probably a straggler. Thought Octavio's rule was all but demolished, however.“ Marie flatly responds.

The Octoling gives the two idols an annoyed glance, and he begins to write on his notepad. As he does, a Smallfry jumps out of his bag, and starts sniffing around the area.

He then holds it up, revealing that it has writing in messy, but readable, Oceanic.

”Cuttlefish sent me after some Octoling shot me in the head. Fishfry found him, he told me to find you guys after patching me up.“

Callie hears Violet cursing under her breath.

Callie cocks her head, curious. ”Cuttlefish sent you? I thought he was retired!“

”Old man didn't tell me he was. Crazy guy, called me a slur on accident. But that's not important. My name is Mike.“

Callie shakes her head. She knew about how Cuttlefish got heated around Octolings. It was something he could never fully shake off.

”If you cross paths with that idiot, tell him to go jump in a pond.“ Violet says through a gritted beak. ”Did he tell you anything about a Squidbeak? Or ask you if you wanted to be an Agent?“

”Yes. He called me Neo 3, I declined but he insisted that I join this operation, and come to see you guys.“

Violet unleashes a string of every swear word she knows. Half of them aren't even in Oceanic or Inkling.

”Gramps is a crazy old man these days. Don’t take anything he says at face value, hell, he isn’t allowed to recruit people.“ Callie tries to reassure, holding out a hand. Mike looks at her with a look of familiarity on his face.

”I think I know you. In the underground. I lived there, I was a courier for the military. You. You're Callie, right? And the other woman. Marie?“

Callie is confused, while Marie nods.

”Ah, yes. You gain a reputation when you've become a scourge upon the domes.“ Marie responds. ”But that's not important, is it?“

Violet takes a breath, and feeling more calm, xe speaks.

”Anyways. I guess you may or may not be one of us. Don't worry- these days, all we do is sometimes deal with small investigations. No fighting or anything. There’s nobody really to fight, in all honesty.”

Mike then tears a page off of his pad of paper.

”Huh. Though, I think that might change. Cuttlefish sent me here after I explained how I ended up in this mess. Was carrying a package to GrizzCo HQ, then an Octoling, Inkling, and Ray tied me up, and stole my things. The Octoling shot me in the head, to make sure I wouldn’t go after it.“

A look of concern crosses Violet's face, and Callie puts a hand on the Inkling's shoulder.

“Okay, but what makes the package important?”

“I don’t know. But I was getting paid a ton to deliver it, and it seems to be that it’s of high importance. 1,000,000 G is a very high sum.”

“Okay.” the inkling says. “Well, I’ll take your offer. Not like there’s much to do these days.”

The Octoling nods, and tears off the paper, writing on the new sheet and showing it to the group.

“Thank you.”

—————

”We're thinking about renewing your contract after the stunt you, Marie, and those other inkfish pulled at the Castaway's Dream. It's obvious the Squid Sisters are relevant again, and a full album would most likely sell well. Additionally, we're thinking about a proper reunion tour and-”

By now, Callie has tuned out. They have a new agent, as Shy-Ho-Shy had retired years back. Now it's a jellyfish, whose name she didn't ask for.

“So, what do you think?” the agent asks the two inklings. Callie puts on the fake smile she has become so used to wearing, while Marie is more apathetic than anything. Though Callie knows that there's more to it. Unlike her, Marie was more upfront with hiding her feelings.

Callie looks at Marie. Marie looks back at Callie. There's tension in the air, that there isn't much of an option but to take the contract.

”We'll sign off on it.“ Marie states. Her voice is strained, she was forced to say it, wasn't she?

Both women sign the contract. The next few days are a blur, talking about songs, a possible collab with Deep Cut, and a trial reunion concert to see if the various denizens of the area would be interested in the duo performing again.

Callie feels happy, she'll be able to do something. But inside, she feels hollow. That this will go over well.

Yet the reef squid will dislike each moment of it.

—————

Callie closes the scrapbook. Her life has been one of ups and downs. More of the latter, than the former. But she's been able to push through, hasn't she? Violet mentioned that she had a strong spirit.

That's something she knew was true, the fact that she had gone through so much and endured was proof.

She quietly sings to herself as she puts the book away. A moment of calm in an ever-churning storm of emotion. Callie knows there is a bright future ahead of her. All that’s left is to create it.

#splatoon #splatoon 2 #splatoon 3 #callie #callie Splatoon #Splatoon fanfiction #agent 3 #marie #agent 4 #agent OCs #agent 3 x Callie #snowy writing

[anthrofreshtodeath]

If you feel like writing two separate prompts or combining them. Thanks!

15 please come home and

28 accidental touches

Let's do 15! It's kind of long. I honestly have no idea what this is - but reserve the right to flesh it out into a full, sprawling story if I want to? Agh, anyway. Here we go! Thank you all for sticking with me as I put these out at a glacial pace.

___

Jane pats her pockets a couple of times before she locks her door. Front, back, breast. Her wallet’s there, her phone’s close to her chest, and she’s got her keys in her hand. Her badge rests deep in the inside of her black leather jacket, invisible but available. 

“Shit,” she curses, because her guide ID rests somewhere inside the apartment, probably on the counter. She’ll need that for work. She jiggles her key in the lock until the door opens, metal and heavy and groaning when she pushes against it. This place is old in the lead-pipes-from-the-sixties way, not the late-eighteen-hundreds way her condo in Boston had been. Sometimes, she thinks about her old place with regret, how she should have kept it instead of selling it in her hurricane hurry to get out of the city. For all the ancient shit she encounters every day on her current assignment, life feels stuck in a flip phone, video rental kind of vibe that she thought she’d left in the academy. In Boston, life had, for all its modern courtrooms and BRIC software and smartphone ubiquitousness, moved at a historical pace. 

Maybe it was the family.

Jane had roots in Boston since the early twentieth century; Rizzolis hadn’t been here in Napoli since 1910. There’s nothing that the modernity here offers her in terms of mirrors - she cannot yet see herself, even though everyone around her looks like they could be a long lost cousin. And perhaps they are, but she knows no one. 

Except her coworkers, perhaps, at both of her jobs. Her narc one and her cover one. 

With a whoosh she’s back in, and she walks past the cluttered kitchen - no ID on the counter - to the small dining room table. Francesca Ricci, guida turistica di Pompeii, it reads. She hangs it around her neck and zips her jacket up over it. The gray sky hangs heavy over Naples’ city center, and so she’ll need to keep it dry. She also foregoes her motorcycle helmet next to her ID - she’ll ride the metro into work today because she doesn’t want to get pelted by rain on her bike if she takes the autostrada. 

So, with her backpack still on her shoulder, she exits a second time, and trots down the stairs to the street. She weaves through her fellow commuters on their own way, and she thinks about popping into the bar just a few storefronts from the station to get a coffee. But then, she’ll have to sit, have to look at the paper just to feel right, and she doesn’t really have the time. Instead, she motors on her long legs to Piazza Garibaldi station and swipes her pass to get on the train. 

She sees some familiar faces, a man who always puts his headphones away before getting off one stop from now, a couple of students who always talk about the same professor in a rich blend of new Neapolitan, Italian, and thirst. 

The closest open seat happens to be right behind those two students, who smile cordially when Jane passes to park herself in the next row’s aisle seat. She slumps, and drops her backpack between her flat-heeled boots, stopping to stare down at them to give her mind some rest. She lets it wander: the stickysweetness of their infatuation settles in her chest, webbing between her lungs, not quite reaching her heart where it’d cause an overdose. Here, four thousand miles away from home, she remembers the fullness of love without the sting of it. 

Luckily, she never has to listen for long, even though she yearns for simpler times when she does - in the best of ways. In that way that makes a heart feel light and easy, like things could go back to that simplicity. In a few minutes, the train signals its stop at Pompeii Scavi, her stop.

She picks up her bag and off she goes, past the exit and into the ticket sales area for the heritage site itself. “Ciao, Roberta,” she says when she waves to the elderly woman manning the closest ticket window. She doesn’t stop, but she smirks and scrunches two fingers in a wave when Roberta calls out a huffy greeting after her, saying something about always in a damn hurry. 

Roberta reminds Jane of her grandmother because they both speak the same kind of stuck-in-time Neapolitan when Jane’s around. Even though Roberta knows Jane only as Francesca, a name chosen for her brother. Jane goes right up to Porta Marina and pulls her sign from her backpack, because her first group is in five minutes and she is, above all things, prompt. 

She is also undercover, so she likes to arrive before them, watch them come in and cluster. She’s been installed because she can be inconspicuous - she ushers rich, whiny merigan’ (her grandmother’s word) through one of the richest historical sites in the world, all while keeping an eye on the Camorra men who’ve been muscled in as guards so that their bosses can keep the drug trade strong and gobble up the restoration contracts that Pompeii requires. And she looks like every other Italian doing it, except the polizia di stato like that she speaks native English and knows the grounds like the back of her hand.

That had only taken copious amounts of adderall and a few sleepless weeks to learn.

Her Italian is pretty good, too. The Neapolitan’s coming back from her childhood, and the adderall also helped the acquisition of standard Italian. She really had jumped in feet first, intent on making a life in a place her family had made life for centuries before they decided America was the best place to be. Sometimes, when she’s wandering across Pompeii’s main drag, or whispering in la Villa dei Misteri, she wonders what they’d think of her: giving it all up, running back to what they left behind so that she can nurse her ailing heart. So that she can hide.

The first of her group of ten point to her sign, however, breaking her out of her reverie, so she waves them in. “Hey hey! You guys with All Star tours?” she asks, though she knows they are. They nod, and she puts her sunglasses on. It's overcast, rainy Italy and all that, but she can’t really do a tour without them. She knows the guys she’s tailing have no idea who she is - that’s the beauty of being a foreigner - but she still refuses to show them the whites of her eyes. A habit from her DCU detective days. “Perfect. Let’s all uh, gather over here, and we’ll wait for the rest of you before going in. So - tell me: where is everyone from?”

___

Maura has paid for the private tour, because she knows the professor arranging it and, well, she has the money. It’s been literal decades since she’s been in Pompeii, the last time for her sixteenth birthday - one last hurrah before her last year of boarding school, before she headed to BCU for undergrad. She hadn’t been very sober during that visit, and of course she regrets it, not only for the lack of memories but for the shame that she’d let girls she barely knew and didn’t like pressure her into it. 

She doesn’t feel much better this morning, just a couple months away from birthday thirty-six and jet-lagged into melancholy.

Well, perhaps that is a non-truth. Not a lie, per se, but the melancholy was firmly in place when she boarded an overnight flight at Logan, one that spit her out in Naples. A car service, courtesy of her mother - quite European in her no-questions-asked approach to the situation - delivered her here, to Porta Marina. To Charles, Professor Cavalieri’s French grad student, whose eyes sparkle when they see her. She looks put together, of course, as she always does, even though she feels a little underdressed. Jeans, riding boots, a light sweater and a scarf over its neckline. April south of Rome can still be a little chilly, so she’s guarded against the weather, but not against the feeling that everyone around her disparages her for not wearing head to toe designer. Charles only notices the slope of her curves in those jeans, the elegance of her features. 

He stammers. “Uh, uh, D-doctor Isles, yes?” he manages when she approaches. She moves right past the rest of the tourists, in a line that will probably take an hour to get through, and smiles at him. 

“Yes, and you must be Charles. The professor has told me so much about you,” she says, and they kiss twice on each cheek, clasping one another’s biceps loosely. “About your expertise regarding the ruins here.”

“He has told me about you, too,” Charles says. When he pulls away, he’s collected himself, returning some sharpness to his eyes. His French accent is actually very slight. “He was shocked that you are here. He had heard that Doctor Faulkner was in the States, with intentions of finding you.”

Cavalieri knows Maura through Ian, who knew him through his undergraduate work in Switzerland. Maura did not know, until this conversation, that they still talk. She goes pale, she can see it in her hands when she brings them up to cross her arms. Funnily enough, they haven’t spoken as of three weeks ago. Or, if they had, Ian hadn’t disclosed… well. “He was. He isn’t any longer. And neither am I,” she recovers. They both chuckle. One drop falls from the Southern Italian sky onto her nose. “Are we ready to begin?”

“Of course,” Charles says. “Let’s make our way to the forum.”

“That sounds perfect. And Charles? There may be a time or two that I wander off on my own. Don’t worry about me. I’ll find you. Or…” she pauses to pull her phone from her bag, “I will text you.”

__

“And if you see those indentations in the stone, that’s where the wooden planks would have gone, and this,” Jane toes the grass and weed-covered stone underneath her and her long arms reach up close to those indentations, “bottom area is where those gladiators we talked about would have… shit. Slept. Would have slept. Above is where the… uh, give me a minute, would you? Come, come here. Come inside. You all can touch.”

Maura Isles, spector behind this entire enterprise, is standing in the ancient street, heels over the rivets made by ancient carts pulled by horses, that had delivered life itself to the city. By the thunder of Jane’s heart, rattling in her chest, the carts still run. The Camorra man Jane’d been watching for the entire tour, spending more time on his phone than guarding the ruins, has slipped away, and she cannot bring herself to care.

Maura is here. 

“Hey!” She shouts, in case the mirage, the ghost, shimmers away into the late-spring fog. “Maura!”

But, Maura doesn’t move. Maura stays put, and Maura smiles. “Hi,” she says softly, an awful lot like a real person. A real, American, Bostonian, medical examiner person. Jane shakes her head. “My god, you look…”

Jane narrows her very sleep-deprived eyes. She runs a hand through barely brushed black hair. “Like shit?” she snarks.

“I was going to say tired,” Maura replies quietly. Her hands clasp in front of her hips, and she laces her fingers together to give them something to do. “You look so tired. And like you’re not eating. Are you eating?”

Jane scoffs. “That isn’t any of your business. I’m working. You know what? I’m working. Which, by the way… how did you find me? How on Earth did you know I was here?”

“I… he’s gone,” Maura says. Jane leans against one of the old stone walls around them and crosses her arms in defense. She is long and she is gaunt. She is haggard and very angry. “He left almost a month ago. I’ve been trying to find you since then.”

“That’s…” Jane summons all the venom, all the ire she can. She grits her teeth for the effect. “None of that is my business. You made that abundantly clear.”

“I never said that,” Maura counters. The way Jane wafts toward her, the scent of despair and righteousness, Maura might topple. So her hand goes to that same wall near Jane’s shoulder. “I said I needed time. And you gave it to me in spades. Hell, you gave me time and an entire continent. I am lucky that my mother has contacts.”

“You sicced your mom on me?” Jane, incredulous, drops her hands so that they ball into fists at her sides. 

“I was willing to do anything to find you. You’ve been gone for six months. I’ve spent almost all of those figuring out where you went.”

“Allora, già sai,” Jane shouts, loud enough for several tourists to turn their way. She yanks her tone down to a poisonous whisper. “Now what do you want.”

She doesn’t ask, she demands. And it pains her because Maura is on the verge of tears, Maura is telling her that Ian is gone, and Maura has come all this way to see her, but a heart broken is a heart reluctant to open. 

“I want you to come home. Please, come home,” pleads Maura. The watery begging pulls Jane forward, but so do Maura’s hands on the lapels of her jacket. Surprisingly strong, and intoxicatingly warm. “I… I need you. I thought I needed him and the whole time he was there, I… was so empty for you,” Maura confesses. “I needed filling up and you were nowhere to be found.”

“Well you found me,” Jane is deflated. Jane closes her eyes as her last defense against the onslaught.

“So, will you come with me? Come back home? My mother would even lend us her plane,” Maura senses an in, a lowering of the defenses, so she takes it.

“No,” Jane says. When she opens her eyes again, they are resolute. But then, there is a smile. “I’m not goin’ anywhere. And, if you really want me to come around? For there to even be a chance of moving forward? You’re not goin’ anywhere, either. For a while.”

Maura cocks her head, confused, but oh is she smart. “Europe?” she asks. Jane frowns. “Italy.”

“Napoli,” Jane corrects. 

“For how long?” Maura asks, and she hasn’t said no.

“For however long it takes,” Jane says. “And you learn to work with me again before you, before we…”

“Love again,” Maura supplies, giddy off of chance.

“Ah! Ah,” Jane holds a finger up in the air. “That’s a forbidden word,” she nods in the direction of Charles, who has stayed respectfully close, but also respectfully behind. “He with you?”

“My tour guide, yes,” Maura tells her.

“Ok then. You know what’s not a forbidden word? Surveillance. Which is what I’m doin’ here. So, tell him to fuck off, join my group, and I’ll fill you in on the train.”

“The train? Like… the metro…?” Maura scrunches her nose.

“The train. You’re doin’ Napoli. With me, remember? That means public transit,” Jane says. She waits for about a dozen more people to pass, hand on Maura’s back, and then guides them over together. “Don’t worry, I’m sure your mother can get you a car once you settle in.”

Maura laughs. “Yes, Detective,” she responds.

“We’re gonna have to work on that accent,” Jane jokes. “But somethin’ tells me you’ll be a quick study. OK, Americani! Let’s keep it moving! Let me show all where the gladiators duked it out, left everything on the field, so to speak. And boy, do I mean everything.”

Something told the both of them, when they returned to Jane’s group, that they would find themselves on such a field not very long from now. Whether opposite each other or with each other, only time would tell.

#otp prompts april/may 2023 #lauren writes rizzoli and isles fanfiction #this is unhinged but hopefully it resonates with some of you LOL #also napolitana jane wtf #rizzoli and isles #it’s a rough and rushed sketch but you know #that’s how things are going for me these days

[chl0writes]

Dating The Sarah Characters Include.

This has become a headcanon blog. I’m not even mad x

GIF’s are NOT mine.

—

Billie Dean Howard.

Meeting Billie Dean Howard was the most surreal moment of your entire life. One of those, is this really happening to me kind of moments.

To love, and be loved by Billie may just be the greatest feeling in the entire world.

She’s often away for work leaving you at home. She’s cautious to have you around spirits and you can only adore her thoughtfulness. It’s definitely hard being away from her though.

Princess treatment, always.

Billie showers you with gifts 24/7 despite your pleas not to. She spends too much money on you.

Dusty rose, pearls and silk sheets.

She loves nothing more than having you on her arm during red carpet events.

Babydoll.

Slow dancing in the kitchen to old music.

Date nights are frequent. Billie loves taking you to the most exquisite restaurants, but you prefer the simpler things, like bowling and theatre trips.

Lana Winters.

The beginning of your relationship with Lana was slow. There was lots of yearning, both a little apprehensive to make the first move.

It took a while for Lana to trust you entirely. You had a faint understanding about the trauma that she had faced. However, you felt no inclination to pressure Lana into talking to you about anything that she wasn’t comfortable with.

When Lana had opened up to you, everything fell into place. The pair of you settled into a beautiful relationship, falling more in love every day.

You had read every single one of Lana’s books, every single article. Truly, you were her biggest fan.

Book tours and signings had become just as much your life as it was Lana’s. You loved to travel, and Lana gets amazing opportunities to travel to all sorts of incredible places.

Lana cannot stand horror films, thrillers or anything gory.

Both horrific cooks.

Cordelia Goode.

You fell for Cordelia on instant. How could you not?

Cordelia was cautious at first, something held her back. She wasn’t sure on how you’d react when you would learn about who she was. What she was. Of course you were completely accepting despite having little understanding on witches.

Things were kept at a slow pace.

You had become so close with the young witches. Especially Mallory.

Tea, books, and rainy days are a few of the things that you and Cordelia love most.

She’s insanely observant. She knows when something is wrong, perhaps even before you realise yourself. She knows what you’re feeling, when you’re feeling it and knows exactly what to do to help.

Cordelia always goes completely over the top on holidays. Halloween especially.

Flowers all of the time. It doesn’t matter if it’s a special occasion, Delia will always bring you flowers.

Bette & Dot Tattler.

You had first seen Bette & Dot in the freak show, and you were utterly blown away by their beauty.

Afterwards you had sought them out to congratulate the girls, but really you had just been desperate to meet them in person.

Dot was not as welcoming as Bette. But she came around. To start with, it was much more of a friendship before it became anything more.

Bette loved to cook for you, Dot loved to sing for you.

They are both incredibly affectionate.

Lots of unimportant bickering, nothing that ever lasts too long though.

Black and white movies. Which aren’t actually too bad but of course you still have to complain about them.

Sally McKenna.

Sally’s infatuation with you was not welcomed to start with. There was always an uneasy feeling that came with her presence. As though she was the predator- and you were her pray.

Over time that feeling of unease dissipated as your adoration for the older woman grew.

You rarely left the hotel after that.

Kinky.

Sally could be awfully jealous, and incredibly possessive, but you didn’t mind. You were hers, and she was yours.

Literally joined at the hip.

So many drunken nights it’s unreal.

When the two of you fight, you absolutely cannot go to sleep on bad terms. No matter the severity, neither of you can settle without being safe in each other’s arms.

You helped her get clean. Sally knows that if she loses you then she will fall into a downward spiral. That’s why she’s needy and she’s clingy. She’s too frightened to tell you though, she doesn’t want to feel like a burden. However, you had guessed this early on and made a promise to yourself that you would never ever leave Sally- no matter the circumstance. She has worked too hard to turn her life around and you will always be so proud of that.

Audrey Tindall.

You had met Audrey in LA, but well into your relationship you moved back to England. You were both so much happier in the UK.

Chaotic. Lots of chaos. The good kind though.

She’s a really bad driver.

There is never ever a dull moment with Audrey. She will always be the funniest person you know.

Audrey likes to get her way, always.

She does work away a lot due to filming various new movies and TV shows. You hate being away from Audrey so much.

Having a performance background, she has enquired about getting you an audition for film or tv, but acting hasn’t ever been your forte.

You literally cannot deny this woman of anything. It’s just not in your power.

Ally Mayfair-Richards.

Ally was (understandably) absolutely terrified to fall in love with you. She did fall though. Hard.

She didn’t really have panic attacks anymore. But on the rare occasion that she did, you managed to soothe her in a way that Ivy never could. She didn’t feel like a burden in the same way that she had used to.

She’s very caring. She refuses to let you skip a meal, always makes sure that you’re hydrated and will not leave your side when you’re sick.

Stealing Ally’s sweaters is a huge comfort.

Lots of wine. Wine, always. The lady is like a wine connoisseur and honestly, you’re not even mad.

She hired you as her assistant. Desk sex.

Oz had become your best friend. Ice cream dates and pizza when Ally was working. You couldn’t help but grab him a new comic book every time you spotted one he didn’t yet have. Ally says you spoil him, but she adores the relationship you have with her son.

You know you definitely want children and Ally is actually open to the idea.

Wilhemina Venable.

It took quite a while to come to the realisation that Wilhemina didn’t treat you in the same cruel way that she treated most people. Well, everybody. Only then, did you begin to question your feelings for the redhead.

It took months of indecision and pathetic flirting but eventually, the pair of you had fallen into a relationship- and It was so much sweeter than you could have ever imagined.

Jealous. Very jealous.

Each day was different with Mina. It all depended on the severity of the pain she was experiencing on said day. It can be a struggle for her to put her feelings into words. Apologies always come in the form of actions.

Arguments can be quite frequent, but you always come back stronger from them.

Lavender had become second nature to you. From the colour, the scent and even the tea.

Bubble baths together, always.

Is always so appreciative over the small things you do, like having dinner prepared when she comes home, or bringing her small gifts when you had been shopping.

Absolutely despises children but there is nothing on Earth you want more than to be a mother. You can practically guarantee this will cause issues in the future.

#american horror story #sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #ally mayfair richards #billie dean howard #ahs cult #audrey tindall #ally mayfair x reader #billie dean x reader #wilhemina venable x reader #cordelia goode x reader

[catladywriter]

Inotan Fanfic: Stares in this Town

Synopsis: Two years after the Demon Slayer Corps disbanded, the Kamado siblings inherit an eatery from a family friend. Tanjirou and his found family are excited to begin a new chapter of their lives. For Inosuke, this means making some challenging adjustments, but his best friends are there for him.

Main Pairing: Inotan (Inosuke x Tanjirou), Pre-relationship

Secondary Pairing: ZenNezu (Zenitsu x Nezuko), Pre-relationship

Setting: Canon AU, 2 years after the main story ends

Wordcount: 5,891

Status: Complete one-shot. First story of the Series: Where the Wisteria Always Bloom.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Inosuke hated it when strangers stared at his face. In the family home of Tanjirou and Nezuko, which they now shared with Zenitsu and him, he was happy to go without his boar mask. But whenever they left for the nearby town to deliver charcoal, he would don his mask. It drew stares from the townspeople, some hostile, but most wary or scared. He didn’t care, as long as they were the ones, not him, who felt uneasy. Besides, Tanjirou was always with him, and Tanjirou could put those timid people at ease.

Life was a lot simpler and slow-moving with their demon-killing days behind them. Inosuke was sometimes bored. He missed the adrenaline rush from emerging victorious in a death-defying battle. Sometimes, he yearned for the unpredictability of living in the wilderness. But deep down, he knew he could never return to a life without his new family, especially Tanjirou. He had almost lost him once, and he never wanted to go through that ordeal again. As long as they were together, he would be content with any hand that life dealt. Provided he could continue being his masked and shirtless self.

But all this would soon have to change.

The Kobayashis were close family friends of the Kamados, and regular customers of their charcoal business. One day, Kobayashi regrettably informed Tanjirou that he would not be purchasing any more charcoal. He was retiring from his eatery business. However, he proposed that Tanjirou should inherit the eatery. Not having any children of his own, and being fond of the Kamado siblings, this was something he’d made up his mind about.

Decades ago, Kobayashi survived a demon attack, thanks to demon slayers who were passing through the town. In gratitude, Kobayashi and his wife used their establishment to house and feed demon slayers in need. Named “Wisteria Garden”, it had a small garden at the back where wisteria bloomed all year round. Tanjirou had baulked at the idea of such a hefty gift, but Kobayashi insisted that handing it down to former demon slayers could not be a more fitting arrangement.

Wisteria Garden was popular among the locals and visitors. Located in the heart of the town, it served ordinary but well-loved comfort food like udon, donburi and tempura. It was a cosy eatery that sat thirty, and diners could relax in the garden and admire the wisteria. When Inosuke first visited it, he felt right at home, and it didn’t take long for him and his friends to become regulars.

The owners were generous, often dishing out extra helpings and side dishes for free. In return for their kindness, Tanjirou and Nezuko would help out at the eatery on busy days.

Inosuke thought it would be a pity if such a nice eatery were to close down. He assured Tanjirou that he had his full support if he wanted to accept the Kobayashis’ offer. In any case, he didn’t care either way as long as he got to continue bossing his best friends around. If he could eat on the job, that was definitely a perk.

Zenitsu felt that this opportunity couldn’t have come at a better time. More people were switching to electricity, and charcoal burning may become obsolete. Food would never go out of date, though. Everyone has to eat.

Tanjirou had felt a little sad about giving up his family business of burning charcoal. But it did not feel right to deny his newfound family a better future. Burning charcoal was dangerous and strenuous work. After his recovery from the final battle, his left arm was never quite the same again. He had worked hard in the months after, and with the help of his best friends, regained some of his mobility. But Inosuke and Zenitsu had to do most of the heavy lifting, something he constantly apologised for, much to their chagrin. Moreover, Nezuko was of an age where she should enjoy her youth, wear pretty clothes and make friends with girls her age. Instead, she was spending her days running around the three of them and getting caked in soot. He had asked her to look for something else to do, but she didn't want to be away from him.

Cooking on the other hand was less physically demanding. It also brought him immense pleasure to see his friends enjoy his food. Nezuko was getting good at it too, so the both of them could handle the culinary responsibilities. He wasn’t sure how Zenitsu and Inosuke would fit in, but he was confident that they would manage. They have always worked well as a team.

“Let’s do it, nii-chan,” Nezuko looked at her brother with a determined expression on her face when Kobayashi brought up the matter again. And that sealed the deal.

*

Before they could become the eatery’s new owners, their suitability had to be assessed. Tanjirou and Nezuko’s culinary skills passed with flying colours. They could almost replicate the Wisteria Garden’s signature dishes. To improve, it was just a matter of practice. The real challenge came when they had a month-long on-the-job training to learn the ins and outs of managing the eatery.

The open-kitchen design gave a clear view of the kitchen over the countertop from the dining area. The four of them often watched the Kobayashis at work while they dined there. The couple made it look deceptively easy to run the eatery as a duo. They switched seamlessly between cooking, serving, cashiering, cleaning and chatting with customers.

Tanjirou and Nezuko had helped out in the kitchen before, so it didn’t take long for them to settle into their roles. They were even able to juggle extra responsibilities during the peak hours of lunch and dinner. Their pleasant demeanour and familiarity with the townspeople set customers at ease.

Zenitsu, too, adapted quickly. He was fast and accurate at taking orders and bringing orders to customers. He even found time to chat up the young female customers, though that soon stopped when he found himself on the receiving end of Nezuko’s stink eye.

But Inosuke, for the first time in seventeen years of his life, was horrified to discover that he had become the weakest link. Whenever he was in the dining area, his boar mask scared customers off, and the usually packed eatery would have lots of vacant seats. With too much free time on his hands, he would skulk around at the entrance, getting down on all fours at random to sniff around. This most definitely intimidated any potential customers. An exasperated Zenitsu told him to stop doing that, but Inosuke argued that he had to protect their new home from suspicious people.

“Nobody looks more suspicious than you!” Zenitsu cried.

Inosuke knew the mask would be a problem. Whenever he ate there, Mrs Kobayashi would nicely but firmly request that Inosuke put his boar mask away, even if he was just standing in the queue. It would scare the other customers, especially the children, she explained. Inosuke would reluctantly obey for the food. But now, he wasn’t here to eat. He was here to feed these fools, and damn them if they had a problem with his mask.

When Inosuke worked in the kitchen, business picked up. But it was not constructive. Inosuke was much more interested in eating than helping. This made Tanjirou and Nezuko busier than ever. They had to fix his misshapenly cut ingredients, sweep up cutlery that he broke while washing them, and cook faster than he could steal food. He knew he should exercise self-restraint. But how could he, when he was constantly surrounded by mouth-watering smells of freshly-cooked comfort food? Ever patient and nice, the siblings would smile and say it was quite all right, even thanking him for the confidence boost. But Inosuke felt bad, not to mention, constrained and useless in a kitchen that had no place for his talents.

Kobayashi tried to console him by offering other options. He could do other jobs, like build relationships with the suppliers, or manage the accounts. The job scopes for both made zero sense to him, so they became Tanjirou’s and Zenitsu’s responsibilities.

Zenitsu was far less charitable with his patience. He would not hesitate to chastise Inosuke whenever he was out of line.

As the week wore on with little improvement, Inosuke had on one occasion impetuously said that he would go back to his old home in the mountains. This was vehemently shot down by everyone, to his secret delight and relief.

“I know it’s hard on you,” Tanjirou put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “But you’re very important to us and we’ll give you all the time you need to adapt. If you still feel that this is not for you, you can do something else if you want, even go back to selling charcoal. But the four of us are a family and we should not be separated by something trivial like this.”

“Yea, sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I’ll be more patient,” Zenitsu promised.

*

By the second week, Zenitsu’s patience wore thin again. The entire town had gotten wind of the news that a group of youngsters was taking over the town’s favourite eatery. They all wanted to ascertain for themselves that these kids were up to the task. It was a struggle for the inexperienced team to cope. Once again, he nagged at Inosuke over breakfast.

“It’s the boar mask. All you have to do is take it off, and you can work in the front. It’s a lot more fun than being in the kitchen, I promise.”

“Zenitsu,” Nezuko said, a hint of disapproval in her voice.

“I mean, don’t you think it’s a pity? He has such a good-looking face. If I had a face like that, I’d make sure every girl in this town and the next town see it.”

“Then it’s a good thing that you look ordinary,” Nezuko deadpanned.

Ignoring Zenitsu’s protests that she’d misunderstood him, she turned to Inosuke. “It really is a shame. You are so handsome, that’s why people like looking at you. Why would you hide your face for that?”

“You could make your face useful, become our poster boy and draw the customers in,” Zenitsu chimed in. “You see, Nezuko-chan? That’s what I meant. Attracting customers, not picking up girls. Heh.”

“And give the stupid townspeople more reason to stare at my face?” Inosuke hated the idea.

“Nezuko-chan gets plenty of stares and compliments too. I think it’s fine if they aren’t creepy about it. Even I get stared at, but it turns out that people just want to know why my hair is yellow. I wish pretty girls would look at me and compliment me.”

“Well, it’s just as I thought,” Nezuko remarked dryly.

“That was a joke! Having Nezuko-chan look at me is more than I can wish for!”

Inosuke replaced his boar mask firmly over his head. He twirled his finger around his empty plate, annoyed that his friends couldn’t empathise with him.

“Nezuko’s a girl, so it’s different.” He knew it was a nonexplanation, but it was hard to make them understand.

“We’ve talked about this,” Tanjirou said as he walked into the dining room. “Let’s not make Inosuke do what he doesn’t like.”

Thank goodness, Inosuke thought. Tanjirou is finally here to put a stop to this pointless conversation.

“Everybody has a different threshold for comfort. It doesn’t matter what Nezuko and you think, Zenitsu. Just because you both can put up with being stared at, it doesn’t mean Inosuke can do the same.”

Inosuke jumped up from his chair.

“What do you mean by that?! How dare you belittle me!” Inosuke pointed a shaking finger at Tanjirou. “I’ll show you what I can do, and I’ll do it better than any of you!”

He pulled off his boar mask and slammed it down on the dining table, to everyone’s astonishment.

“I’m not challenging you!” Tanjirou tried to explain.

But Inosuke had run to the door, maskless and yelling that the last person out of the house would wash all the dishes.

*

When Inosuke wore a smile, albeit a very forced one, instead of a boar mask, the customers were at ease. It was yet another busy day at the eatery.

The lunch crowd made Inosuke nervous as always, but he was a man on a mission, and he willed himself to focus. With so much to do, he didn’t have long to dwell on his discomfort from his naked face, or his uniform. At least he was permitted to wear only the haori with hakama pants. The standard uniform top consisted of an inner shirt, a haori and an apron over it all. His three friends had been wearing this without complaint since day one. He would never tell them this, but he envied their tolerance and couldn’t imagine how they could willingly suffer in it for hours. Wasn’t it hot and stuffy, especially for Tanjirou, who spent more time than anyone else in the kitchen?

But their head chef seemed perfectly happy, even humming tunelessly as he managed multiple stoves by himself. Nezuko would usually help him. Today, she was held up at the front by a group of foreign-looking people in funny clothes, who spoke a language Inosuke had never heard before. Zenitsu said they were wearing suits and were likely from abroad from the Western part of the world. Spending a couple of years as a non-speaking demon had made Nezuko very good at communicating with hand signs.

Oh well, Tanjirou would manage just fine. He could always be trusted with anything he set his mind on. Inosuke was determined not to lose. Tanjirou counted on him for many things. He mustn’t let his favourite underling think that he’s an unreliable boss.

He knew exactly what he had to do. He’s watched Zenitsu do it for the past few days, and there’s absolutely no reason he couldn’t do what Zenitsu’s capable of. Since it was officially his first day, he performed easier tasks like clearing the tables and bringing the dirty dishes to the kitchen. With a bit more patience and focus, he was able to avoid breaking anything while washing them. He gained more confidence, and soon he was weaving in and out of the kitchen with a growing spring in his step. His dexterity and strength came in handy to balance the heavy trays of dishes.

Maybe he actually had a gift for this! Or maybe he’s just awesome and talented and nothing’s beyond his abilities.

But for all his self-affirmations, it had been a long time since Inosuke was in close vicinity of many strangers. Feeling overwhelmed, he ran into the kitchen to catch his breath and steal some moments of tranquillity. A few bowls of udon sat on the kitchen counter waiting to be served. He felt his stomach rumble. He’d been working his muscles and brain hard for the past hour. But no, he swore he would do better than his friends, so he absolutely must resist eating any of the customers’ food.

Tanjirou hunched over a bowl of tempura in a corner of the kitchen, shaking out condiments over it. Inosuke figured it would be fine to seek his attention for a bit since he wasn’t doing anything dangerous like cooking or cutting. He made a beeline for him and grabbed his haori sleeve, like he always did when he was anxious or stressed. He could feel some of the tension leave his body.

Tanjirou turned to face him. “How are you feeling?” 

“Fine,” Inosuke mumbled. He was feeling a whole mixed bag of emotions, so it was simply easier to say that he was fine. After all, he would be fine. There’s nothing he can’t handle.

“I was watching you earlier. You did amazing! I can’t believe it’s your first time doing this,” Tanjirou said with a smile that made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. Inosuke used to think these sensations were strange. Now they filled him with gusto for another hour at the literal battlefield out front.

“Of course!” Inosuke grinned. He straightened his back and thumped his chest with a fist, “You can always count on me!”

Tanjirou beamed at him. “I know!” Then he said, “I’ve got something for you, open your mouth!”

Inosuke obeyed, and Tanjirou fed him a piece of tempura.

“Mmm!” Inosuke responded through a mouthful of crispy, freshly-fried tempura. It was just the right temperature and airiness.

“Is it good?”

He nodded enthusiastically.

“You can have the whole bowl, I made it just for you,” Tanjirou held up the large bowl of tempura.

Inosuke looked at the tempting tempura, and then at the bowls of udon waiting to be served. Nothing could please him more right now than to indulge in his favourite food while watching his favourite person in the world being happy. But he had to prioritise.

“I must get back to work, but I’ll be back for those! Wait for me!”

He swept up the udon bowls onto a tray and dashed out to the battlefield before he could regret his decision.

With Tanjirou’s hourly encouragement and tempura (kept in a preheated oven to stay warm and crispy), Inosuke survived his first official full work day at the Wisteria Garden.

“This is more tiring than pillar training,” Inosuke sat slumped over a table as his friends bustled around him closing the shop.

“You’ll get used to it,” Tanjirou smiled. “You did a great job. We couldn’t have managed today’s crowd without you.”

Inosuke glowed with pride. For the first time in a while, he felt that he had secured his place among his friends in this strange little town. “Ha! Told you not to belittle me.”

“Let’s see if you can keep it up for the rest of the week and more,” Zenitsu quipped.

“Of course I can!”

“Get up and help then,” Zenitsu smacked him on the shoulder. “Unlike you, we don’t have hourly snack breaks.”

“Don’t boss me around! Did you hear what Tanjirou said? I saved the day. You guys couldn’t manage without me!” Inosuke said haughtily.

“Back to your cocky self huh? I wonder who it was who got all depressed days ago and said he would go back to his old home in the mountains,” Zenitsu smirked.

Inosuke ignored him, but he got up and joined Tanjirou and Nezuko in the kitchen to help with washing up.

*

On their way back to their home, they stopped by a store that sold all sorts of things from soy sauce to sweets to brooms. The shop owner was a friendly older woman who often chatted with Tanjirou, Nezuko and Zenitsu, and avoided looking at Inosuke. He preferred it that way. But today, she kept watching him as he tailed behind Tanjirou, and it was starting to get under his skin. When Tanjirou brought his shopping to the counter, she finally spoke up, “Who’s that new friend of yours, Tanjirou? I feel like I’ve met him before but I can’t place a finger on it.”

Tanjirou stared at her, momentarily confused. He looked behind him and realised who she was referring to.

“Oh, but you’ve met him many times! It’s Inosuke, you know, the one with the boar mask.”

The woman clapped her hands together in astonishment. Addressing Inosuke, she exclaimed, “You look completely different from what I was expecting! I didn’t think it was you at all. Haha. You shouldn’t wear the head. You look a lot better like this.”

Inosuke wasn’t sure what to respond. Who was she to tell him what to wear anyway?

Perhaps realising she had been rude, the woman offered him a freshly-made batch of gyoza. Inosuke accepted the peace offering and was pleased to find that it was delicious.

Tanjirou thanked her and insisted on paying for it, but she waved off his offer. “You’ve already helped me with this and that. Just give me more spring onions or something at your eatery next time.”

If not wearing a mask meant that people would offer him free food, he wouldn’t mind taking advantage of this, Inosuke thought.

“Do you all want some too? I can make more,” she asked, when she realised that Inosuke had emptied the entire plate and left nothing for his friends.

“Oh no thank you, we already had dinner. He’s a bottomless pit,” Zenitsu said.

After they left the store, Zenitsu complained, “That woman is so shallow, I bet she gave him free food because she likes his face.”

“I don’t think she was being shallow. It’s human nature to warm up to someone once they realise he isn’t as threatening as they thought,” Tanjirou said.

“Actually, the people here are really nice and generous once they get to know you!” Nezuko explained. “When nii-chan delivered charcoal, they would ply him with free food. Once, he came back with such a big bag that Mother made him go back and return it all!”

Tanjirou nodded fondly at the memory. “Mother said food didn’t come easy so we shouldn’t take advantage of other people’s kindness. ”

No wonder Tanjirou’s so insistent on repaying people, Inosuke thought. He’d always found it a bit silly since Tanjirou always did things for others without wanting anything in return. If his mother knew this, maybe she’d be less hard on him.

Zenitsu was unconvinced. “I suppose we’ll have to teach Inosuke about stranger danger. If he’s going to accept free food from random strangers, which will happen more since people these days are so shallow, he’ll get into all sorts of trouble.”

“Huh? I took it because I can sense that she’s not a bad person, even if she annoys me. I’m not stupid!” Inosuke snapped.

“I sure hope so,” Zenitsu’s voice dripped with so much scepticism that Inosuke concluded he must be itching for a beating.

“Don’t run so fast, you might get a stitch!” Tanjirou warned, but Inosuke was already hot on the heels of a screaming Zenitsu.

*

As the days went by, Inosuke realised that he enjoyed working at the Wisteria Garden. It was a nice change from the monotony of burning charcoal. On particularly hectic days, orders ticked off at lightning speed. It was fun and challenging to stay ahead of the game through speed, agility and mental acuity, all the strengths that he was proud of. He relished the exhilaration that came with the completion of each hourly shift. After which, he would enjoy Tanjirou’s special treat, made just for him as a reward.

He’s such a fast learner and an exemplary worker that he’s moved on to taking customers’ orders. Having eaten every dish several times, he knew the entire menu from back to front. Despite not learning to read it, he was able to match the orders seamlessly, and give recommendations to indecisive customers.

He still didn’t like interacting with the customers much. They kept asking him questions about the menu. He recognised some of them and knew they’d eaten here several times. There was no excuse for them to be unfamiliar with the menu, unless they had awful memories. Zenitsu explained that they were using the menu as an excuse to chat him up. He found this seriously annoying. It messed up his momentum and made him lose to Zenitsu in their “who completed more orders” challenges. But Nezuko said customers were usually right. So he would answer their questions as politely as he could manage if they didn’t give him too much trouble. He’s a good boss and he should set an example for his underlings.

Increasingly, he felt less bothered going out and about without his boar mask. It was carefully stored away in a cupboard that Tanjirou made just for him, together with other precious mementoes like the loin cloth with his name on it.

The training came to an end and the Kobayashis were pleased to hand over the keys to the Wisteria Garden. Kobayashi said they were welcome to ask for help anytime. Not that he thought it would be necessary. He said they were the most diligent, resourceful and sensible youngsters he had ever met. He was sure they would fare well on their own.

“We’re starting a new phase of our lives tomorrow. We should go and pray for blessings!” Nezuko suggested.

They made their way to the shrine at the outskirt of the town. Inosuke had visited a few times, but he could never quite remember the ritual to ask for blessings. It involved something like taking a deep bow, throwing a coin, and clapping hands together twice. Or was it thrice? Nezuko was happy to walk him through the whole process again. Inosuke made the same wish that he always did - that the four of them would always lead a blessed and carefree life together.

Visitors started crowding the usually peaceful shrine grounds just as they were leaving. There was to be a festival at the shrine, and tourists from out of town were expected.

Inosuke was dismayed to find the crowd growing denser as they headed further out. His stomach churned with anxiety. He hated crowds. People jostled past them and he got elbowed several times. Ahead was a literal sea of people packed shoulder to shoulder. Compulsively, he grabbed the edge of Tanjirou’s haori sleeve and squeezed it in his palm.

“Nezuko-chan, stay close to me. I’ll protect you,” Zenitsu stood close behind Nezuko. He raised his arms around her, so that his haori sleeves formed a protective barrier between her and the crowd. Together, they plodded through the throng of people.

“Inosuke,” Tanjirou whispered. Inosuke jumped. Having people speak into his ear was something he was still trying to get accustomed to without his boar hide as a barrier.

“Sorry, want to hold hands?”

“Huh?”

“So we don’t get separated.”

Inosuke felt Tanjirou’s hand press against his. Reflexively, he squeezed it back.

Tanjirou’s warm, callused hand was so much more comforting than the cool, floppy haori fabric. The dull ache in his stomach left, replaced by the warm and fuzzy feelings that Tanjirou always made him feel, but with greater intensity than before. His heart raced. It reminded him of the thrill from scoring a win, or the buzz from eating as much as he wanted of his favourite food. They were still in the crowd, making slow and steady progress. But he had stopped hearing the noisy chatter of the crowd, stopped feeling the stuffiness and claustrophobia. All he could feel was Tanjirou’s hand against his own, and their close proximity to each other.

All too soon, they emerged unscathed. Tanjirou released his hand and praised him, “That was some crowd. But you did really well to stay calm!” Tanjirou gave him a radiant smile that set his heart aflutter once more.

Calm? Inosuke thought he was anything but calm. His heart was a palpitating mess. He was sure Zenitsu would hear it, but Zenitsu was busy fussing over Nezuko.

Tanjirou continued walking, and Inosuke followed. The street was no longer crowded, but Inosuke’s hand felt empty and uncomfortable. He wanted to feel Tanjirou’s strong palm in his own. Even if it drove his heart into overdrive. What can he say? He’s a born fighter and he craved a good adrenaline rush.

He reached out and grabbed Tanjirou’s hand.

“Inosuke?” Tanjirou whispered, surprise evident in his voice.

Inosuke interlaced their fingers. He could feel his face grow warm, and that was rather nice in this cool Autumn season. Zenitsu always raved to him at length about wanting to hold Nezuko’s hand. He couldn’t understand what the fuss was from his friend’s babbling, but now he did. He should have tried this long ago.

“Inosuke, are you nervous?”

“Yes! I mean, no! I’m the king of the mountains. Nothing unsettles me!” Inosuke said. He’s glad he’s better at lying than Tanjirou was.

“Right.” Tanjirou seemed satisfied with the answer and they continued walking in silence.

Ah damnit, Tanjirou could smell emotions, couldn’t he? He had said he wouldn’t go out of the way to do it because it was intrusive. But if Inosuke could smell or hear emotions like his friends could, he would want to know how Tanjirou felt at this moment. Sure, he had excellent senses, but deciphering the signals was something he still grappled with.

Did Tanjirou like holding hands as much as he did? He must be happy because he had a placid smile on his face. Inosuke could feel Tanjirou’s pulse throbbing harder than earlier, so he must be pretty excited too. Maybe they could have a contest - to see who could make each other’s heart race faster.

Zenitsu’s voice disrupted his thoughts. “Anyone get the feeling that we’re being stared at?”

Inosuke suddenly realised he wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings at all. Luckily this town was peaceful. It would be folly if there was an enemy on the prowl.

He looked around him. Zenitsu was quite right. People were staring, with unpleasant expressions on their faces. He had the feeling that these people weren’t just looking at his face.

“Why are you both holding hands?” Zenitsu yelped, his wide eyes fixed on their intertwined hands.

“Oh it was crowded just now, I didn’t want us to get separated,” Tanjirou said.

“It’s not crowded anymore,” Zenitsu pointed out.

“You’re right,” Tanjirou loosened his grip, but Inosuke didn’t let go. Zenitsu raised an eyebrow.

“I like holding hands. Got a problem with that?” Inosuke said defiantly.

Zenitsu looked taken aback, but he quickly recovered. “Personally not, but look around, do you see any grown-ups holding hands?”

Inosuke looked. No, he didn’t. He also noticed more stares now, which made him feel uncomfortable. But Tanjirou’s hand felt really nice in his.

“I don’t. So what?”

“Only couples hold hands. Even then, it’s not good manners to display affection in public, especially in small towns like this one.”

“That’s lame!” Inosuke bristled. Why does this stupid town have so many rules? First, he can’t wear his mask. Then, he can’t go shirtless. Now they want to stop him from holding Tanjirou’s hand too? Nope, not happening.

“It’s fine, it’s just holding hands. Don’t make a fuss, Zenitsu,” Tanjirou patted Inosuke’s shoulder soothingly, although his own face was going a deeper pink.

Feeling emboldened, Inosuke declared, “I like holding Tanjirou’s hand. I’m not letting go!”

Zenitsu rolled his eyes. “If you want to be lovey-dovey with each other, wait till you get home!”

“We’re not-” Tanjirou began, but Inosuke bellowed, “Stop telling me what to do!”

Zenitsu sighed. Inosuke noticed that more people were staring now after his outburst. He felt the knot in his stomach tighten, and he gripped Tanjirou’s hand harder. Tanjirou squeezed his hand back. The knot eased a little.

Nezuko had been watching the exchange in pensive silence. She piped up, “Let’s all hold hands and walk together!”

Zenitsu gave her an incredulous look, but Tanjirou’s face lit up at her suggestion.

“Oh yes, when we were small, we’d all hold hands and walk in a circle around Mother when we were in town. It was the best way to not get lost on market day.”

“What? No, I don’t want to do that. What are we? Three?” Zenitsu scoffed.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Nezuko said with a huff. She moved closer to Inosuke and took his free hand in hers.

“Is this fine for you?” She beamed up at him.

Inosuke nodded. Nezuko’s hand was warm, small and soft. It’s a nice hand, and holding it gave him a pleasant feeling. But it wasn’t quite comparable to the excitement he got from squeezing Tanjirou’s hand. Nezuko’s hand was dainty, and he’s afraid he might hurt her if he squeezed it, so he tried not to. Which was just as well, because Zenitsu was glaring so hard at their loosely-gripped hands, he thought his eyes might pop right out of their sockets if he did.

“Why does Inosuke get to hold Nezuko-chan’s hand?!! I haven’t even touched her hand!!! This isn’t fair!!! I want to hold Nezuko-chan’s hand too!!!” Zenitsu’s shrill screaming reverberated through the street.

Even the people who had walked past them turned back to glare at his public spectacle.

“You said it’s childish to hold hands,” Nezuko turned her nose up at Zenitsu’s trembling proffered hand.

“I’m sorry Nezuko-chan!!! I didn’t think that when you said hold hands, you’d actually want to hold my hand!!! Please forgive me!!! Don’t make me walk alone!!!”

“Here, you can hold my other hand,” Tanjirou laughed.

“I don’t want your hand!!! I want Nezuko-chan’s!!!”

After several more apologies and self-admonishments from Zenitsu, Nezuko thrust her free hand to him with a giggle.

Zenitsu cried in relief and cradled her palm against his face.

“Nezuko-chan’s hand is so soft and nice!”

Nezuko pulled her hand away and tapped him on the head.

“Hold my hand properly or you don’t get to hold it!”

“Sorry Nezuko-chan!” he interlaced their fingers and gave her hand a squeeze, a foolish grin on his face. Nezuko looked away, her face bright pink.

“Does this mean I can hold your hand again next time, Nezuko-chan?”

“I’ll think about it,” Nezuko said loftily, although her eyes sparkled in a way that Inosuke had never seen before.

Not to be outdone, he turned to Tanjirou, “Can I hold your hand again next time?”

“Eh?” Tanjirou had been grinning at Nezuko and Zenitsu’s antics, and the question caught him off guard.

“Can I hold-”

“I heard you. Um, you can, if it makes you happy.”

Tanjirou lowered his eyes, so Inosuke couldn’t see if they sparkled. He actually seemed flustered, if anything. Tanjirou’s usually calm and collected. Sometimes he got mad, sometimes he was sad, and sometimes, he was frightened or worried, but he always seemed to know what to do next. Flustered Tanjirou was new to him. If he could make Tanjirou flustered, that’s a good thing right? Zenitsu was frequently flustered around Nezuko.

“Are you nervous?” Inosuke asked.

“No!” Tanjirou said, his ears turning beetroot red.

Inosuke smirked. As always, Tanjirou’s awful at lying.

The four of them walked together, hand in hand, swinging their arms gaily.

Some passersby looked on disapprovingly, but others cracked a smile. A group of children even mimicked them.

They were definitely attracting a lot of of attention now. But Zenitsu had such a dazed and silly look on his face, Inosuke doubted that he was bothered at all. He couldn’t see his own face, but his cheeks ached from smiling, and he hoped he didn’t look as idiotic as his friend did.

“Getting stared at isn’t so bad right?” Nezuko asked him.

Inosuke agreed with her.

*

They walked up the mountain path that led to home, leaving behind the town and the stares.

Somewhere along the way, Nezuko wanted to re-tie her hair, so the little group split up. Zenitsu went ahead to pick flowers for Nezuko to put in her hair. When he came back to her, she was watching Tanjirou and Inosuke, who walked together some way behind.

“They’re still holding hands?!” he exclaimed.

She put a finger to her lips and shushed him with a knowing smile.

Next story in the series: Kisses for an Idiot

「 ✦ Please support your creators by reblogging ✦ 」

Author Notes: Thanks for reading my first-ever fanfiction after a several-year-long hiatus! This Author's Note is long since it's my first one after like, a decade. I’m sorry if my writing is rusty. I do write a lot for work, but it’s non-creative writing, and I think it shows. But InoTan is too fun, so I had to try. I must profess that my experience working in the Food and Beverage industry is severely limited. But I love restaurant games, and I was picturing the main four flailing around as Overcooked characters while writing this. After I read the manga ending, I desperately wanted sweet cinnamon roll Tanjirou to have the fluffiest happily ever after ending. It saddens me that such a selfless and gentle person has to go through so much, so I just wanted to write fluffy fics with him being my definition of happy. Although Tanjirou’s my favourite character, I enjoyed writing about him through Inosuke’s POV. Inosuke went through significant character growth throughout the canon storyline. I imagine that 2 years after the main story ends, he would become more mature, more aware and able to face up to his feelings and understand emotions. He would get his friends’ names correct, but at the same time, retain some of his impetuous and competitive nature. He would still see his friends as underlings, in an “I'm your boss and I'll protect you” kind of way. He would still be highly sensitive to and easily stimulated by touch, such as hand holding and pulse rates, since that’s his strongest sense. This story has nothing to do with the song “Stares in this Town” by Ramones. I was just googling for inspiration for a title along the theme of staring, and this came up. That said, I read the lyrics and if they’re taken at face value, I think it might be a rather accurate reflection of Inosuke’s mindset in this story. Feeding scenes are cute, as are scenes with Inosuke grabbing Tanjirou’s clothes for stress relief. These were my simple motivations for writing the scene of Tanjirou feeding tempura to Inosuke :D

Inosuke made the same wish that he always did - that the four of them would always lead a blessed and carefree life together. I thought this would be the sort of thing Inosuke would wish for since he’s a simple person, and of course, they would all completely deserve it. 🥹 Also, the first time they visit a shrine together, I bet they have to stop Inosuke from scaling the bell rope 😂 This excerpt was my first attempt at writing an Inotan hand-holding scene! I felt it couldn’t be atypically romantic, but it should be comfortable at least. Tanjirou would take the initiative, but Inosuke would continue with it after realising how good it feels.

He wanted to feel Tanjirou’s strong palm in his own. Even if it drove his heart into overdrive. What can he say? He’s a born fighter and he craved a good adrenaline rush.

I had to make some references to Inosuke’s competitive nature. Likening hand-holding to a fight might be as romantic as Inosuke gets :D

I loved writing the group hand-holding scene. I enjoyed having sassy Nezuko take the initiative. Despite Zenitsu proclaiming his crush on Nezuko to everyone, I think he'd be afraid of making an actual move due to past failed experiences with girls. He doesn't want to make a mistake and scare her away. As for Inosuke, he's a quick learner and I'm sure he picks up a lot from watching Zenitsu and Nezuko flirt with each other. Also, I just love the adorable image of the four of them holding hands and marching gaily through the town. It would be even cuter if they sang, but Inosuke and Tanjirou might get kicked out of the town for creating sound pollution, so that wouldn't be a good idea!

Tanjirou lowered his eyes, so Inosuke couldn’t see if they sparkled. He actually seemed flustered, if anything. Tanjirou’s usually calm and collected. Sometimes he got mad, sometimes he was sad, and sometimes, he was frightened or worried, but he always seemed to know what to do next. Flustered Tanjirou was new to him. If he could make Tanjirou flustered, that’s a good thing right? Zenitsu was frequently flustered around Nezuko.

My headcanon tells me that Inosuke would take pleasure in making Tanjirou feel flustered because he sees it as a sign of weakness. In a way, he feels a sense of pride in being able to elicit such a response from Tanjirou and seeing him vulnerable.

Thank you for reading! If my fic made you smile, it’d really make my day if you could drop a like, reblog, and/or comment to let me know! This story is also published on AO3 where you can comment anonymously!

#inotan #inosuke x tanjirou #zennezu #zenitsu x nezuko #demon slayer fandom #demon slayer fanfic #kny #kny fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba #inosuke hashibira #hashibira inosuke #tanjirou kamado #fanfic #nezuko #zenitsu #tanjirou #inosuke #catlady writes #hand holding #fluff #kny fluff #boys in love

[piratekane]

So sorry to be the one who broke the bad news!! I’m thrilled to see the community fighting and some media outlets write about the outrage. But I’m sure many feel that this could be another WN emotional roller coaster, so that’s not great.

All that said, I’m so grateful to have gotten what we got on screen from a network show. The cast and crew who have been so Team Kacy. And most of all, that the show sparked REALLY talented queer writers, you’re on the top of my list, to write amazing stories about Kacy and the ohana. So whatever happens, I’m glad you’re a part of this community and I get to revisit your work to soothe the sadness and anger that will bubble up for a while.

And fully with you when you posted about always getting knocked down my a Jemily gifset. I think my touchstone ships have been Jemily, Calzona, and now Kacy. Forever floored by a gifset that shows up on the dashboard of this perfect hellsite.

Ugh… what a shitty weekend

-AM goo friend

it’s cool, alex mack goo friend. it’s cool. it has unofficially given me permission to never consume new media though. i’ve got enough trust issues i can’t be adding network television. hashtag get fucked CBS.

i am grateful for the people i’ve met and the people who i’ve connected with. it’s always nice to be in a new fandom and find new people—or even “old” people from other fandoms in previous years. time and fandom are both flat circles. we’ll meet some of these people again. and i’ll gladly follow every one of these actors to whatever their next venture is.

jemily, my beloved. something is happening and on my twitter feed (i am such a lurker), there’s TONS of jemily tweets. i don’t know why. maybe god knows i need them in my life. but i am not mad about it and i will continue to read and watch and yearn for simpler times.

#bro i am so tired #none of this makes sense

[superman--yoosung]

hi hello! (◍ ´꒳` ◍) i happened to stumble upon your Genshin matchup event so i was wondering if i could participate?

— pronoun preference(s): she/they

— gender preference: male

— ballpark age preference: adult, but not Diluc please

— personality + morals/beliefs: i'm generally easygoing and patient, and often mistaken for an extrovert because of how friendly i can be. i've been told i'm very easy and calming to be around, however, i love my alone time more than socialising. i also have a bad habit of nagging people when i'm worried about them but can rarely spare a thought for myself ^^; i believe in what goes around comes around, both in its negative and positive meaning, so i try to do what i think is right while not wasting energy on stupid/mean people (sometimes it's hard though sigh)

— likes + dislikes: i love languages, and folktales (especially those that have eerie or unsettling undertones to it, same goes for books). i'm majoring in english right now as well! i also love, writing, dogs, flowers and stargazing.

as for dislikes, i don't like cold weather, extremely loud places like large concerts, and being stuck in someone else's rythm (them deciding on everything, listening to only them talk etc.)

— what vision you think you would have and why: perhaps electro because i feel like i'm often in my own dream world that i'm trying to lightly assimilate into my life.

— embarrassing moment from your life: as a kid i used to think you can actually fly with your umbrella like Mary Poppins if you jumped from a high enough place (places i jumped from include: a big oak, a greenhouse roof and a piano)

— additional info: i can speak four languages (three fluently, one is still under work xD), think i'm good at singing although i'm actually not but sing aloud anyway, and really want to visit a big desert or a tundra and just look at a humongous sea of stars!

that's all, thank you so much! hopefully this wasn't too much info, i apologise if it was ^^; and naturally, no need to do this if you don't feel like it. take care and have a lovely day <3

Hello! Thank you for sending in your ask!! This was really fun to do since you have so many interesting small details!!

Your matchup is.................................................

Alhaitham !!

Your interests and expertise just align so well. It was inevitable that you eventually crossed paths, and the rest was history!

..... Sort of. Your personalities don't seem similar at first - others outside of your friend groups expect you to be far too extroverted for Alhaitham, who would much rather spend his time quietly on the things that interest him. But unbeknownst to them, that's exactly how you feel, too - why spend energy and time on folks and topics whose presence and example fail to bring positive influence into your sphere?

Perhaps that's what kept Alhaitham coming back to you - that kindred spirit, that appreciation for simpler joys in life, that depthless yearning to learn about what you love.

Either way, what began as a shared love of languages and academic pursuits eventually morphed into something more between the two of you.

Fun details:

Electro + Dendro on the field means you two create some powerful reactions in battle!

When the weather gets cold, he'll always have your favorite warm drink ready and waiting by the time you get home. He won't let you wear his cape to stay cozy, though, so if you want it you'll have to steal it!

You probably get along with Alhaitham's friends better than he does!

Your evenings are usually spent quietly pursuing your interests in each other's presence; Alhaitham on one end of the couch reading a book, and you on the other finishing a paper or reciting new vocab for a language you're learning (and by the way, he'll chime in with a correction or critique now and then, too, because - of course he would)

You may nag him from time to time, and he'll usually follow your advice without question, as long as it's reasonable - but he'll always use that rational mind of his to point out when you've done so to your own detriment!

If you've forgotten to take care of yourself, he'll remind you to do so - he'll ask if you've eaten your meals, if you're sleeping well, whether you need to blow off some steam, etc. He tends to do so without a filter, though, so he tends to be blunt about it.

You, and only you, are allowed to regularly use his spare pair of noise-cancelling headphones.

If you suggest a visit to the desert or tundra or even just to go stargazing, he'll be happy to plan the entire trip with you - it gives him a reason to use his vacation days, and more importantly, it'll put a smile on your face for a week.

Your wild imagination is something that amuses him. Though he'll always logically point out the flaws in your daydreams, it's partly just to see your reaction. If you met as children, he definitely tagged along in your jumping shenanigans, but only to say "I told you so" when they inevitably didn't go how you hoped.

He doesn't make it a secret that he values your opinions, both academically and personally. He values your input and always takes it into account.

And what does he loves about you most? A simple question with a simpler answer: Your mind, which is both capable of highly logical thought as well as the most unrealistic of dreams. A juxtaposition he finds enthralling. He does also like to admire your frame in the moonlight, too, underneath all of those stars you so love - how the shadows cast along your shoulders, how your hair reflects the night's light.

~~I hope this is to your liking. I was very close to picking Zhongli for you because I thought he would be able to tell you the best folktales, but in the end I went with Alhaitham because I thought you shared some important views/interests. Have a good day~!

#genshin impact #genshin impact matchups #💌 matchup replies #alhaitham

[fumblingmusings]

if you don't mind sharing what parts of your own life have been put into Evelyn? Personally my parents were both laid back and kind of emotionally neglective so even though I know Evelyn's smothering, suffocating style of mothering isn't the healthiest it's still lowkey appealing and something that both endears me to her, and makes me envious of her children lmao. I am also curious though, is Evelyn the 'I wished you had stayed as little children forever' type or is she happy watching the kidlings grow up healthy and strong?

Ah. If it's okay, I will leave it vague. I'm very close to both my parents, though. I rely on them a lot. My mum does have a chronic and degenerative illness, so that has shapes the way I write about the kids and their understanding of their sick mum.

For England and the babies, though... I think she wants to be wanted and needs to be needed, and who wants/needs someone the way a baby needs/wants their mama, right? I think she is proud of all of them, and I think her being unconditional in her love, regardless of how useful the kids were as colonies, did all of them in good stead, especially compared to Arthur's more distant parenting.

But as proud as she is at how well they all turned out, I think most parents kind of yearn for when they were babies (and didn't have their own opinions they could rag on her for) because it can sometimes see like a simpler time, even when it absolutely wasn’t in reality. Like the way Matthew would run so far so he could meet her at the harbour - she misses stuff like that, or the way Jack always preferred to be carried instead of walk. It gave her a purpose, seeing to their welfare.

She absolutely has empty nest syndrome. But at the same time, she's immensely smug about how relatively well they have turned out. Subtly ignoring all that went wrong... of course.

#q&a #fanfic ask #hws england #fem!england #hetalia