#*this was all off research that could be flawed

[homestuckreplay]

In Another Timeline, I Found A Good Title For This Post

(page 1196-1219; timeline theories)

The pacing of this intermission is kind of unbelievable – double digit pages for the past five days in a row. With that, all four members of the Midnight Crew have been introduced, so I’ve put together this quick table showing some of the patterns we’ve seen so far. About 75% of the time I spent making this was researching hat styles.

Page 1211 was the moment I really bought into this intermission. Up til now it’s been fun, but I have been missing the beta kids. But ‘You're gonna jump to a timeline where he's dead’ has really grabbed me, because this is new – as far as we know, Acts 1-3 took place in a single timeline, where loops are closed and everything’s stable. Now, the possibilities are anything. Calling it now that we’ll learn in Act 4 that a critical earlier event actually happened in a different timeline to everything else.

Also the two of spades turning into Slick’s licorice scottie dogs between panels is a really good bit. It ALMOST makes up for the ‘jack king off’ joke on page 1197, which is probably the worst joke in Homestuck so far.

This page is another highlight! Slick literally did build this town, and it looks totally different from the green-tinged complex architecture of now. I guess this is the flaw in Die’s powers – he can travel to a timeline where somebody is dead, but he can’t choose which one. He’s equally likely to get a timeline where Slick died today as one where Slick died before ever building the town. And maybe more importantly… this page looks kind of like a color switched version of page 248, another wasteland with a city in the distance (although this new one has other planets circling overhead).

So, most likely, Spades Slick and Jack Noir are versions of the same character from different timelines, and that’s why they’re not aware of each other. In the HS timeline, the character becomes a prominent agent of the dark kingdom, while in the MC timeline, he becomes an underground criminal/architect/construction worker on a planet that probably isn’t Earth, and might not even be in the Incipisphere. A city planner would fit right in with WV, PM and AR’s civic infrastructure theme. So the question is, what determines if a NPC leaves the game and returns to the outside universe? And does this mean Jack Noir could also leave, go to Earth, and be the future character who starts off in Dave’s location and flies to join the other three?

It does seem significant that on what’s apparently an alien planet, there is so much human paraphernalia. As well as the Crosbytop and Foxworthy photo, Deuce has a Stretch Armstrong doll. Surely this planet has its own celebrities to draw from. Alchemy still seems likely – Dave definitely has the components in this house to alchemize this doll. And there is a strong suggestion that appearification and sendification could work between planets or into/out of the Incipisphere – page 733 gives a good look at the screen on WV’s appearifier, which could be adjusted to the Incipisphere with the right key. That key isn’t Slick’s spade key, but someone has it. Maybe Snowman or Lord English or Diamonds Droog (who seems a fair bit more competent than Slick). And obviously we know there’s lots of Skaian technology on Earth, but it’s now possible there could be items from this other alien planet, too. Say, rocket boards.

And as a final red string theory (‘Red Strings’ title of DD’s magazine??), Boxcars hypothesizes that ‘you've got to alter the flow of time itself’ to open the Felt’s safe (p.1218). This is a story where one specific time of day has been really important, and has come up over and over again, and now there’s a whole mansion and group of previously unknown characters whose whole deal is controlling and changing time – among other things, these people can decide when it is 4:13 and when it isn’t. Clock faces are the same on this planet as they are on Earth, and the current time is 12:13pm – also the time on Jade’s island at the start of Act 3, for what it’s worth – and Boxcars’ plan to blow up this very important clock feels significant when we know that some places are outside the flow of time of the universe, AND there’s multiple timelines here, which could potentially converge if time is otherwise stopped.

I’m out here getting my head all tangled over this timeline stuff, but the Midnight Crew are not at all. Droog, especially, has this ‘just another day at the office’ familiarity with time travel. He and his crew don’t engage in it at all, but they know what’s up, and it’s no different to knowing what type of disguise or getaway car a rival gang uses. What a fucking idiot, they’ve totally given themself away with this ‘punching me from the future’ move yet again. This moment on page 1203 looks like a stable loop, even if nothing else is �� Deuce has arrived after being radioed for backup, and Droog’s trail leads up the stairs, where we know he went after being punched.

Droog and Deuce are both great characters. Droog is like the second in command who’s actually way more competent than the leader. He has clear parallels with Dad Egbert, sort of Dad’s dark mirror, with the same attention to suits and to backup versions of his clothes. Dad also has multiple backup hats, although some are in different styles (p.72), multiple backup pipes, and lots of identical shoes and ties (p.948). We haven’t actually seen a DD analog on the ominous planet – only SS (p.953) and HB (p.957) – so either Dad is going to meet this DD analog, befriend him and be sheltered by him now that he’s escaped prison, OR (more compelling), he’s going to disguise himself as an ominous citizen and BECOME the DD analog in the HS timeline.

As for CD, I just think he’s neat. I love that he’s wearing two hats and one of them is a bomb.

[cookie-nom-nom]

If I had a nickel for every time I had an insect OC who lost their legs, I'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice

Based off the Massospora cicadina fungi, which parasitizes cicadas, forcing them to sing until they die in order to lure in cicada mates, which spreads the fungi's spores. The cicada is also pumped full of psychedelics and amphetamines. I thought this gave a fun angle, as the cicada is having a swell time as their lower half rots away and they lure others to their death. This nameless cicada OC is an enthusiastic participant, wanting to share their 'enlightenment' with others. Sort of a mixture between a siren and a cult leader.

[ultrafangirlishness]

The Barbie Movie.

A small, non-comprehensive list of things that stood out to me (spoilers? Kind of?)

The soundtrack

All the jokes that played off of what it was actually like to play with barbies (the pool & ocean being flat, the cups having no drinks in them, the shower having no water, etc.

TRANS BARBIE

The choreography

The "I Am Kenough" tie-dye sweater

Barbies of many shapes and sizes! All very beautiful!

THE ENDING, OH MA LORD. Both the way the story concluded really beautifully, but also the ending joke that no one was prepared for—

Just... everything about Ryan Gosling's performance

Kate McKinnon playing the deranged, "ugly" Barbie

In the same vein, that movie would NOT have been complete without representing the kids who played with their dolls "too hard" (cutting their hair, bending them in weird ways, etc.)

Acknowledging that Barbie did in fact mean a lot to some girls. This movie was geared towards everyone, whether you grew up loving Barbie or hating her.

The mom and her daughter

The fact that when Barbie was starting to become "defective" and/or when she was in the real world, you could start to see her ""flaws"". Like I noticed in some scenes her eyebrows were unplucked and no longer perfectly sculpted, or her skin no longer perfectly smooth with foundation.

It was clear that SO much thought and research was put into this. I couldn't believe how many references there were to specific clothing items, certain playsets, etc.

The fact that Barbie and Ken DIDN'T end up together, and that Barbie DIDN'T indulge Ken in his flirtations (is that a word?) even once

THE FACT THAT I WAS SO CLOSE TO ACTUAL TEARS LIKE SEVEN TIMES???? LIKE WHAT????

The weird dark humor coming out of nowhere

The fact that Barbie never once looked at the human women (who were "imperfect" in comparison to her) with disgust

......the moment between her and the woman on the bench 😭😭😭

The mom's rant about how hard it is being a woman (esp a mother) and how you can never win 🙌🙏

The misogyny in the Real World was so well done. It wasn't overexaggated or over the top it was just NORMAL EVERYDAY LIFE

THE JOKE ABOUT HAVING A MAN SIT YOU DOWN TO TALK ABOUT THE GODFATHER ASDJGKDLW

The moment where I went "OH so THAT'S where the mugshot memes came from"

Ruth Handler <3

The fact that everyone came to the theater dressed either in pink or Barbie-like attire :)

[kingghoost]

Quickly analyzing a one-off line from The Optiratch Argument™ because I'm bored

We all know that The Argument™ was mainly about Ratchet's frustrations with Optimus' "cowardice" (BIG quotation marks) but one of Ratchet's lines really stuck with me:

"Oh- and let me guess, I'm just the medic." (TFP S1E22)

Typically when people are angry, they don't vent about just one thing. Though he was talking back to what Optimus said about the Vehicon being a miner and not a warrior, that comment seemed completely irrelevant to the argument's main topic (at least in my point of view)

One big (yet hidden) flaw in Ratchet is his lack of self confidence. His job is to cure the sick and injured, yet he never really seems to realize the value he has on his team. He truly is great at what he does - and he goes above and beyond to be of service (medic, scientist, sort of engineer... that's impressive!) Despite all this, the fact that he is the only non-fighter really seems to eat at him. His main whereabouts most of the time being in the base makes it worse paired with the fact that he seems to be the most eager to jump and "get things done." Their numbers are already small, so he feels that anything he could do isn't enough to overthrow an entire military.

By saying "Just the medic," it implies that he determines his self worth by his rank. In his eyes, he is "just" the medic. Not a great warrior that overpowers the enemy and saves his comrades, but a doctor forced to sit by and wait for his teammates to return with fresh new injuries, dead or alive.

"-Help us, we know. But you nearly caused the loss of something.. Irreplaceable. Our medic, and our most trusted friend." (TFP S1E22)

Now Optimus, on the other hand, does acknowledge what Ratchet has to give to the team, most importantly Ratchet's worth as an individual. He knows what lengths Ratchet goes to save his comrades (and, most of the time, himself) from the brink of death, he knows what a genius his old friend is for being able to conduct such intricate research with limited supplies - Hell, he knows that Ratchet built some of those supplies himself.

Learning about how Ratchet thinks so lowly of himself must've been shocking, to witness the one closest to you feel the need to experiment on himself with untested material in the hopes of being "useful" ... I think it broke Optimus' heart a little, not to mention how he was already hurt by Ratchet's rant.

Though the episode ended with things working out in the end, I really like the idea of The Argument™ making a huge mess out of both of them. At that moment they were fine and made up, but what they said/learned about each other that day will never quite leave them.

[cosmicpuzzle]

6th Lord in Houses ✔️

1st House: You are a complicated and a very self-critical person, with more tendency to see the flaws in life than the good. Possibly you suffer from some health-related problems on and off, due to accumulation of different dysfunctions in the physiology or mind. You might pay great attention to health-related diets or activities, and quite possibly you might have a career connected to the medical field. Due to misunderstandings and other complications, you might have a hard time keeping your reputation clear and therefore meet with several obstacles.

2nd House: You can be quite economical because your critical mind is very aware of the fluctuation or accumulations of resources in your life. Therefore, you pay great detailed attention and interest to your work, and you will, with such diligence, accumulate substantial income. Beware of expressing yourself in an irritated way and try to eat healthy food.

3rd House: Negative self-criticism, irritation and lack of hope may hold back on your initiative to act for the fulfillment of your desires. The fact that you are more aware of the limitations that the possibilities take away from you the courage needed to forge ahead and succeed. You may fall into the trap of being constantly irritated and quarrelsome. If you have any siblings, you probably don't get along with them.

4th House: Your need for comfort and inner security is often threatened by irritable self-criticism that you bring onto yourself. Your self image may be distorted and weak and therefore it appears hard for you be content and comfortable with yourself. Gains like a good educational degree, real estate or land seem hard for you to come by. Your relationship with your mother may be annoying and irritable.

5th House: Your mind is often restless and irritable in particular when you find that you can't access the learning or information that you seek. You may pay more attention to what's wrong than what goes right. Your finances constantly fluctuate, and you may have a hard time relating to your children.

6th House: You have a good ability to survive obstacles and overcome oppression. Any competitor or enemy has to keep a close eye on you, but in the end you are the one who is likely to overcome his/her opponents. You have a good sense of service and you might dwell into some medical field in order to help your fellow human beings.

7th House: Frequently you may find yourself in an unnecessary argument with your spouse, something that started as an irritation but escalated into a fight. And even if you hide your irritation, it may subliminally get transmitted to your spouse giving rise to a new irritation. Your spouse may actually suffer from some health ailments and may also have a hard time in financial management. Your own health can be weak as well.

8th House: You may often be frustrated because you cannot get what you want. Then again, what you want may not be in your reach at all. It might be another person's property. Mentally you are often vulnerable to annoying irritation. Maybe you should try to be of service to others by finding solutions for previously unsolved problems and putting the pieces together. Your mind has a critical faculty that could possibly be used to research, exploring and uncovering things.

9th House: You may feel frustrated when you pursue a higher education, and you may feel unjustly criticized by your teacher. Gaining higher education may be a source of suffering for you, and the same applies to religious studies, philosophy and ethics. If you are service oriented, you will in time acquire contentment and comfort.

10th House:You use your critical mind quite a bit to succeed in your career. It may need hard work and a lapse of time but in the end you will succeed in creating professional reputation for yourself. You will still have a good deal of opponents, competitors and critics who may disturb the process of success, but you are likely to overcome them.

11th House: You may find that many of the opportunities you have for gaining resources is through your opponents or competitors. Surprising as it may seem you are likely to earn well through these avenues. Other opportunities might actually have more obstacles for you. Your older sibling may be your rival, or your relationship may be characterized with rivalry. Your children may have health problems.

12th House: There is a possibility that you have hidden rivals or enemies that work against you without you knowing. You may also experience a hopeless irritation often without knowing why or where it is coming from. In order to escape this vicious circle, you may find that selfless service to those in need will give you more than you bargained for.

For Readings DM

[literaryvein-reblogs]

How to Write a Character

For creative writing to have as deep an impact as possible, you need to give the reader strong characters they can relate to on a personal level.

By borrowing from tried-and-true character archetypes and giving them your personal spin, you can create heroes, villains, and sidekicks that will affect your readers as if they were real people they knew.

Come up with a backstory

Crafting a backstory can help you flesh out an interesting character profile.

“When I’m dealing with characters,” says legal thriller author David Baldacci, “and I’m trying to explain somebody's situation and motivations, you have to look into their past, because [the] past always drives motivations.”

Ask what experiences your character had in elementary school or high school that shaped who they are today. Your character’s backstory can greatly inform your plot.

Develop a character arc

A character must evolve throughout a story.

“The character has to change,” insists crime fiction writer Walter Mosley. “The character doesn’t have to become better. The character doesn’t have to become good. It could be the opposite. He could start good and become bad. He could start off hopeful and end up a pessimist. But he has to be impacted by this world that we’re reading about.”

Plan out your storyline based on your character's goals and how achieving or not achieving them will change them as people. This sort of template can help anchor your narrative.

Do research

If you plan to set your story in a specific locale or period, do enough research to make your characters seem true to life and believable.

“What does it mean, for instance, in the Tudor era to be a male person?” asks Margaret Atwood, author of The Handmaid’s Tale. “What does it mean to be a female person? What do those things mean when they’re at different social levels?”

Empathize with your characters

No matter what the type of character you’re developing, try to find some reason you and your reader can relate to their internal conflict.

“You’re living with these people every single day for months at a time—in some cases, years at a time,” says acclaimed children’s author Judy Blume. “You had better feel for them. So, for me, yes, I have great empathy for them.”

When people can empathize with characters, they’re more likely to find them compelling.

Experiment with different approaches

If you usually write characters from a particular point of view (or POV), change things up to challenge yourself.

“Write about someone entirely through the eyes of their friends and family,” suggests journalist Malcolm Gladwell. “So do a profile of someone where you deliberately never talk to the person that you’re profiling.”

There are plenty of ways to craft compelling character descriptions—free yourself up to try new alternatives.

Give your characters flaws

To craft believable characters, you need to give them flaws.

“One, it makes the characters human, just by default, because everybody recognizes that we all have flaws and mistakes,” David says. “But two, it gives you plot elements and plot opportunities because somebody makes a mistake. Why? Because they’re flawed.”

Learn from real people

Pay attention to real people’s mannerisms, personality traits, body language, and physical appearances.

Do research, and be respectful, when you want to write characters with backgrounds that you are not familiar with. Become familiar with different people's cultures, sexual orientations etc.

Talking to people about their experiences will help form your character’s personality.

Let your characters surprise you

Character development can proceed down a host of different avenues.

“Spend a lot of time with your characters and getting to know them,” Judy suggests. “And the way that you get to know them can be different from the way I get to know them. But my way is: They don’t come alive until I write about them, until I put them down on paper.”

As you write, your character’s motivation or perspective might change from what you originally planned.

Play characters off each other

Ask yourself how a secondary character’s personality might thwart the main character’s motivation.

“One of the best ways, as I said, to develop a character is to put that character in relationship to another person,” Walter says. “So as they talk, as they fight, as they work together, we find out more about who they are and what they are.”

The character’s close friends, adversaries, and acquaintances might all have different effects on their behavior.

Take an organic approach

Over the course of the story, be ready for your characters to surprise you as much as the people you know in real life might, too.

Your characters may take on a life of their own.

Avoid static characters by letting yours have their own lives and personalities. Let their stories take you where they lead.

Source ⚜ Writing Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[grabattheseballsss]

Ass or tits post but they barely answer the question

NSFW text !!!

Btw if yawll have any headcannon ideas do send them in pls !!! Smooches !!

John price

this is absurd, to think you would ask him such a disrespectful question, I mean if you weren’t dating this is a huge HR violation, plus he won’t just pick like you’re some object he gets to use to his pleasure (thighs and fupas)

Simon Riley

Ass…. No wait he likes tits

Actually he likes ass… but maybe more so the thighs… nah nah it’s just ass … actually here, go wear these outfits and come back to me, I need to make my mind up for sure, you know, for research purposes.

John McTavish

Couldn’t choose, had to go run a few laps to clear his brain

Came back and just held your shoulders and said

“Yes”

You’d be confused and ask him the question again and he’d just look at you with sad eyes and whimper out

“Please don’t make me chose”

Kyle Garrick

Tits, absolutely tits, this man has a thing for milfs, my darlings with big or small tits, if he sees you in a blouse or a tank top that shows your cleavage, he’s running the nearest bathroom to relieve himself.

You had to go undercover on a mission once, having to dress up as a server at a strip club, you needed to have ears on the inside, and he had to save all the footage he was watching… for safety purposes of course, what if he didn’t notice a very illegal bad thing happen to you on his 89th rewatch ?!

Rodolfo parra

Tits, but also into necks, he also loves your back, and the curve of your hips, and how your rolls show when he has you in a weird position, and he loves watching you change or slip into your everyday clothes, how some tights fabrics tug at your pretty plush skin, he loves it when you lay your feet on his lap, silently asking him to rub them for you, watching you stretch, watching you walk, how you interact with others …

Wait sorry what was the question ?

Alejandro Vargas

This whore…. Ass.

He’d slap your ass ever time you’re walking by, if you’re leaning on a counter, on your phone, he would stand behind you and slap your ass bongos, laughing and kissing your temple as you try to smack him.

If he sees you sleeping on your side he will crawl lower and cuddle your ass, it’s just such a nice cushion  :(

One time the team all went out for drinks after a successful mission, and you changed into a white tank top, low cut bell bottom jeans and Rudy handed you a cowboy hat as a joke, but all Alejandro could think about is which bathroom is the closest for him to take you.

Also steals your panties after every quickie

Valeria

See….. here’s the thing, Valeria loves one thing, and that thing is seeing you all submissive and ready for her to take, she loves sitting in a meeting with some dealers, her legs spread, you by her feet, hugging onto the lower part of her legs, humping on her dirty boot, your tits pressed against her knee as your clothed pussy rubs in messy motions as you try to get some sort of release, she loves holding a gun to your head, asking you to only make eye contact with her, in a room filled with judging eyes.

She needs everyone to know what’s hers, and what would happen if they even dared to speak of what’s hers.

König

Listen, I see könig as a little weirdo, a lil freaky boy. When he’s infatuated with someone, he won’t be able to find a single flaw in them, seeing your skirt riding up at bit too high that shows your ass that’s covered in opaque stockings, and if there’s a little rip in those stockings, even if the rip is like, down near your ankle, he’s gonna pop a boner.

If you’re a fashion girly that likes to show their body off oh baby he’s buying you anything you want if you just give him a show, tops that barely hide your nipples, about 90% of your tits out on display, one slip and you’ll be flashing him.

Seeing you in his clothes, seeing his hoodie bunched up around around waist as you hold it up a bit, fixing your pants, oh he’s going to jump that hoodie later.

Horangi

Tits, or so he thought, he’s always found your chest gorgeous, what he wouldn’t give to be able to suck on your nipples day and night, that is until you were sparring one time, you had him in a chokehold… with your thoughts pressed against his neck, his head resting on your lap as you look down at him, animalistic fire in them as you grin down at him, all he could think about was how your eyes gazed down on his, how the pressure of your thick thighs pressed against his neck felt like heaven, like the pain in his neck was cured (it wasn’t)

After the sparring match he just had to collect his thoughts, he needed you to be on top of him, preferably with your crotch right on top of his face with your soft sweaty thighs caging him in .

Laswell

This lady……… she’s the hard dom price wishes he was.

She’s so calm and collected on the outside, at her work everyone sees her as this no nonsense lady who refuses to listen to some old fart tell her what she can and can’t do, she’ll always do what’s right

And so when her pretty girl, in a gorgeous dress she got for you, comes to her job, holding a tiny bag filled with her lunch, hair done, makeup looking flawless, and a bright smile that makes her coworkers envy her.

She loves her sweet girl that’s too innocent to notice how promiscuous she looks in that form fitting dress, how her tits press together when she hands her the bag, Kate would simply thank you, kissing you briefly before giving your bum a smack as she tells you to get back home and get ready for her tonight

What? The woman is stressed at work and her girl comes in looking like a goddess in a tight dress, plus it’s not like any of her coworkers blame her.

[galedekarios]

i need to get this off my chest. this is a personal vent post so please don't jump down my throat, but a thing that makes me feel some kind of ways is just how much bg3 is being viewed now through rose-tinted glasses in order to dunk on veilguard. i've seen this happening on most platforms tbh.

and sometimes i remember for a brief moment what larian did before the release (much of this in the last few weeks before release no less) and after the release of the game:

-lied abt the your race having consequences throughout the story (saying that drow being feared in act 1 and persecuted in act 3 and it then... just not happening at all. drow walking around on the surface is just fine now ig. again it still boggles my mind how drow are allowed to roam around in baldur's gate without consequences considering that they are known to be responsible for kidnapping duke ravengard but i won't get on that soapbox again.)

-lied abt the upper city being available in act 3

-lied abt romance progression & how romances would play out in general prior to release (pfh + release trailers and promo)

-game-breaking bugs

-romance-breaking bugs for months (gale and wyll)

-one companion who has a third to half more content than any of the other companions and who was heavily favoured and focused on during development to the detriment of others (with the narrative design lead even admitting to this)

-was missing an actual ending that they only added months after release

-was missing the evil path that they actually promised prior to release

-offers quite little in the way consequences even now (not giving karlach upgrades for example has zero bearing on her and she still survives to make her sacrifice on the pier, ethel coming back no matter what you did, downgrading gale's need for actual artefacts of power bc ppl can't part with their loot even for narrative reasons, etc.)

-lore-breaks + poor research on established lore (the whole timeline with mystra, minthara using an eilistraeen endearment, etc)

-massacring returning characters like viconia and sarevok

-constantly changing dialogue around / scrapping old ones / adding new ones depending on fan demand

i could go on, but it's... a lot already.

i obviously love the game despite its many flaws and it's done some other things wonderfully - just like veilguard. the unique body language of the companions, the animation and creativity, the voice acting, the music, act 1 overall and parts of act 2, etc. it's one of my most played games and one of my most beloveds (mostly bc of gale, my ocs and friends' oc).

all these game have flaws. the one difference i see is that bg3 has been given the benefit of the doubt and overall an abundance of good will (generally speaking) and veilguard hasn't been.

[voidcat]

comparing hand-sizes to hold their hand against the other's and then just holding hands + Laios 😭😭😭💞💞💞💞

I can never write Laios like you king but hope you like this Oxy ilyy<33🫶🫶

wc: 703 ; gn!reader

“Hey, so…” a voice interrupts the silence. “What if all those physical differences we displayed weren’t just an effect of changeling spores, more like revealed by them?” Laios asks, looking at his hand deep in thought.

Few groans and hums raise in their air, Chilchuck for one isn’t happy in the slightest for having his sleep interrupted. At least Marcille seems a little interested, or maybe just trying to end the conversation before Laios’ mind can spiral to depths no one wishes to know about.

“You mean the body shaping accordingly to your life style?”

“Yes! But not exactly.” some faces drop as his voice raises a tone higher, whatever remnants of exhaustion wiped off his body. “What if the occupations we would take and the lives we would live were already predetermined by the bodies we were going to inhabit?”

He sounds excited, the heart in the right place but probably not explaining what’s on his mind as he wished.

“You mean like ‘nature vs nurture’?” your voice rings in the air and immediately you can see Marcille’s face dropping. Probably an option she thought of as well, but chose not to voice for the moment.

Meanwhile Laios, more than happy to have someone else join in on his brainstorming, rushes to your side like a giddy puppy, hands up, palms facing you.

“Like Senshi–” “Hmm, he looked quite slender and fragile, even for elven standards when he was an elf himself…” “And and–”he counts every small detail he has noticed and saved into his memory without taking a breath. Happy and in his element, he looks fascinating.

“Despite all that, I’ve noticed hand sizes to not have gone through a drastic change.”

“Oh, really?” you ask, now a little curious. Has he really paid individual attention to each and everyone’s hands? “Yes! I even compared them with mine for good measure.” he says matter-of-factly, earning a snort from you.

“Well, then in this case,” you draw in, “your research is flawed I’m afraid.” Unfazed by your close proximity, he only looks confused at your claim. The ‘how so’ waits on his tongue but you beat him to it.

“I don’t think you ever compared with mine.” he seems relieved, as if letting out the breath he was holding. Taking your words as an invitation, Laios grabs your hands and brings them up, facing his palms against yours.

First thing he notes is how close they are to his in size. Sure, for a tall-man, he is not exactly the tallest but he was told he has big hands. Your fingertips passing his distal interphalangeals barely, his brows furrow without noticing. At his reaction, you stick your tongue out at him victoriously. Unfazed by your reaction he continues to inspect. Staring at your hands against his with fascination, he moves each finger, grazing against your skin as if to test some sort of parameter only he knows of.

What feels like forever passes.the two of you, enthralled in your own bubble now, everyone else busy with something, their attentions diverted.

Laios realizes then, that he has been staring for a while. With this first moment kicks back in his senses; the world suddenly isn’t drowned out, everything but you isn’t covered by a dark curtain– and how painfully warm, and so nice to the touch your hands are.

As if sensing him snapping back into reality, you let your fingers slide across the gaps between his, clasping his hands in a demeanor that mimicked his observant self a while ago.

“See?” you break the silence for the two of you. “Told ya you were missing out on data.” you say with a grin. Finding himself at ease with you, he brings his right hand to scratch his head reluctantly.

He couldn’t possibly be blushing now, could he?

Laios tries to return the smile and still feels his shyness taking over. A breath let out and he allows himself to sit down more properly, letting his muscles relax. Taking out his little notebook to read, he stays, and his left hand drops to the ground, between the two of you, hand still clasped to yours, not letting go until you do.

[stsgluver]

𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐓.𝟒 — gojo satoru

synopsis. nobara can’t find the dvd anywhere and gojo has a decision to make

wc. 4k

tags. fluff, angst (kinda), reader is described as fem, possibly ooc gojo (my bad), cliffhanger-ish, any spelling mistakes blame on my cats, possible plotholes

a/n. several things to address: firstly my description of dvds and how they work ARE SO FLAWED IK DON'T JUDGE. secondly, look I get how rct works so not everything I say is accurate but like this is also about 2d men so who's to judge. finally I'm not too sure about this chapter so if its shit lmk BUT I HOPE YOU ALL LOVE IT THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT <333 ily all but I do have upcoming exams so the ending(s), won't be posted till possibly early February as I have to get back to studying :(

previous part / final part / series masterlist

“guys we’ve lost it.” nobara pushed up her mattress, phone pressed between her ear and her shoulder as she peered beneath the wooden slats. all there was was her suitcase and a bag from an expensive shop she’d convinced gojo to buy for her. “it’s gone. poof. here once and now it’s not.” the ‘it’ in question being the dvd they’d treasured for the last few weeks (well, yuuji and nobara anyways).

after gojo had taken the dvd – unbeknownst to the first years – nobara had ended up sleeping for the next fourty eight hours, and then afterwards spending several days catching up on the classwork she’d missed. she hadn’t had the time or energy to force her classmates into another movie night so now here they were, almost a week since it was last touched, finally realising its disappearance.

“do you want me and megumi to come help?” yuuji asked tentatively as he heard her curse as she dropped the mattress back down. nobara sighed, glancing around at the chaos she’d created. her room was a mess – drawers half open and half her clothes and books on the floor in case the dvd had slipped into a pile by accident. 

“it’s not in my room,” she said adamantly, pushing her hair back from her face in frustration as she struggled to piece together the final moments she had with the dvd. she could remember sending megumi away, beginning her little day of research and even some of the videos she watched (the arcade and the christmas reunion), but then she fell asleep and everything was hazy from there.

“when was the last time you had it?” megumi asked and nobara felt her eye twitch like she hadn't retraced her steps a million times already.

“the first day i was off sick. i was watching a few–”

“without us?” the pink haired sorcerer cut in with a gasp.

“what else was there to do?” nobara argued back with no bite but he quietened down nonetheless. 

a moment of silence settled between the three as each tried to figure out where it could have been misplaced or who could’ve accidentally picked it up. if nobara had dropped it somewhere outside of her dorm, could one of the older years taken it?

nobara was brought out of deep thought by yuuji flippantly asking: “did you watch any after sensei came to see you?” she froze at the implication of his words. at no point could she recall their teacher ever coming in to check on her – it had always been either yuuji, megumi or maki. 

“what?” 

several hours later, the three first years found themselves huddled on the benches, nobara in the middle and the boys either side of her. in front of them were the second years and gojo – the latter having said something to annoy maki as yuuta held her back from making a swing at their laughing teacher. the second year teacher was off ill today so the larger class meant that the three had a distraction as they tried to figure out what their next step was – if they even had one at this point.

the assumed facts were as such: the first years were no longer in possession of the dvd, and gojo had it. though there was little doubt that this was true, it didn’t stop them questioning the possibility – after all, megumi had pointed out, there’d been no alter in his behaviour whatsoever since the minute he’d checked on nobara. surely, even the strongest would be noticeably affected by a disk that immortalised a happiness and innocence he’d never be able to return to.

but then again, maybe this was just another thing that separated gojo from the rest of society. being the strongest came before all else, he didn’t have the time to mourn resurfaced memories.

“maybe he just doesn’t have it,” yuuji suggested.

“he has to,” nobara reaffirmed. at this point they’d exhausted all other options about where it could possibly be and surely they would have heard if one of the older years found what they had. “would he tell you if he had it?” she asked megumi.

“no,” megumi said quickly, shaking his head and leaning back on the bench as he looked over at gojo, “we… he wouldn’t talk to me about that. about them.”

“could we steal it back?” yuuji offered and nobara debated duct taping his mouth closed.

megumi scoffed, shaking his head, “he has six eyes. even if we tried, he’d know for sure it was us.”

“he already knows it was us,” nobara countered, not that she agreed with yuuji’s solution by any means. “which is why i don’t get why he hasn’t said anyth–”

“oi, you three!” the first years jumped apart from their circle, hearts pounding as gojo appeared before them with a smirk toying at the corner of his lips and his hands clasped behind his back. “whoever beats maki in hand to hand combat gets the day off tomorrow!”

“yuuji if you win, i’m taking your day off,” nobara called out as she trailed behind the aforementioned boy running to the centre of the field. 

“okay!”

unsurprisingly, all three first years lost against the second year. megumi came closest to winning but when he tried to use his cursed technique, gojo countered it, catching him off guard and giving maki the opportunity to sweep him off his feet with her staff.

gojo found himself still laughing over megumi’s shocked expression as he fell flat on his back as he stepped past the threshold of his office. even after all he’d taught the boy in combat, with no cursed technique it was hard to overcome the zenin girl’s strength and skill she’d mastered to take on her own clan.

he let out a small sigh as the door locked shut and, for the first time that day, he was alone with his own thoughts.

dropping down into his office chair, gojo crossed one leg over the other as he pulled open a drawer. on the top of a pile of unread paperwork for the higher ups was the dvd the first years were so fixated on. 

he wasn’t stupid; he knew eventually they would figure out he had it and, unlike himself, they’d been way less subtle once they’d put two and two together. yuuji’s speech had tripled in speed, nobara was way too keen on being anywhere but where he was and megumi… gojo couldn’t forget the guilt and hurt in the teenage boy’s eyes after telling him you were gone. it was here again, had been for several weeks, and it was only after stumbling upon the disk in nobara’s room that he’d understood why.

gojo gritted his teeth together as he held the disk up between shaky fingers. it was pathetic, he scolded himself, it was just a bit of plastic with memories lasered into divots in a never ending spiral. it wasn’t worth the heartache.

if he looked closely enough, he could see shoko’s name written on the centrepiece in faded black sharpie. after gojo had stumbled upon the old camera several years after graduating from jujutsu high, shoko had taken back the camera to transfer all of the old clips onto dvds and given him, herself, nanami and you your own copies. he couldn’t even remember where his and yours were anymore, in fact he’d pretty much forgotten about their existence until a week ago.

he wasn’t sure where shoko had lost the dvd for the first years to get their hands on it but he hadn’t worked up the courage to speak to her about it. he hadn’t worked up the courage to do anything more than just spin the disk between his fingers, cry about it for a bit, and go back to pretending he didn’t have the last remnants of his youth in his drawer.

gojo glanced between the disk and the laptop on his desk. it was the last step he needed to take to hear your voice again. it had been on repeat for the last week in his mind; you uttering his name and that innocent question, would you last beyond your teenage years?

he missed it, missed you so bad.

raising megumi was a lot harder without you there; you were his favourite after all, bridging the gap between the two when they bumped heads with their contrasting personalities. gojo was all rainbows and giggles and megumi was everything but. you were a happy medium, creating a balance that maintained order in the home you shared. it was a peace that megumi deserved after losing his parents.

gojo clicked his tongue, reaching across to press a button that opened up a space for the disk. slotting it in place, he clicked the device shut and held his breath as he waited. it took several seconds for the files to load and then there he was again, back in those fields under the large weeping willow that was your spot.

the video was paused, exactly where it had been left, except this time gojo could actually see the screen.

your face wasn’t in it, just his. his glasses were off – balanced on your head if he remembered correctly – as he used your lap as a pillow. one of your hands was holding the camera while the other was held over his eyes to block any sort of light. the only thing he could make out was your cursed energy.

you were nearing the end of your first year and whilst gojo was growing more powerful, he was also growing more and more reliant on his glasses to stop himself from becoming so overwhelmed with the constant information he received with his six eyes. he’d overworked himself that day, as he so often did, hence why you’d dragged him away from the school to the seclusion of the tree. 

your questions about the longevity of your relationship weren’t meant to hold deep meaning, you just wanted to take his mind off of the headaches. gojo would choose thinking about you over the searing pain in the back of his head any day. yaga said that once he had a better understanding of his reversed curse technique it wouldn’t be so bad but until then it was just about riding it out.

gojo snorted at the notion. his reversed curse technique only marginally helped. you were what got him through the days when he’d lock himself in his bedroom with blackout blinds pulled down, hiding under his covers till he felt like he could function in society again.

he didn’t unpause the video, however, instead clicking onto the main tab with all of the files stored. 

lifting up his blindfold and dropping it down onto the desk, gojo took a deep breath before he began scrolling. unlike when the first years were simply searching for the ones with their favourite thumbnail, gojo was specifically searching for the ones he knew focused on you.

he needed to hear your voice again, to play it on repeat until it became so ingrained into his skin he could feel your touch.

gojo halted the cursor over the familiar date of your birthday, clicking on it without a second thought as the video filled the screen. it buffered for a moment, giving him a view of the dorm he’d practically spent three years in (despite yaga’s constant complaints and reminders that dorms were segregated on gender).

in the corner of your room was a stack of plushies that he’d won for you at arcades, and your walls were covered in photobooth photos and polaroids of your group of friends. his personal favourite was the polaroid you had pinned just above your desk. it was the two of you on new years eve sharing your first kiss of the year, sparklers in hand and the faint pink of a firework in the background. on the bottom of the polaroid was haibara’s handwriting as he’d scribbled on the date and a small smiley face.

“happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you!” seventeen year old gojo sung in the video, swaying the camera side to side above a pile of duvet and pillows. you were somewhere in the middle, half asleep and trying to push yourself deeper into the comfort of your bed and further from whatever the screeching was in your room.

you’d never been a morning person whereas he, on the other hand, had a reserve of energy that never depleted. it was what made getting up at the crack of dawn on your birthday so much more entertaining for him. even as an adult, when the two of you lived together in the comfort of your own apartment, he would either force you to stay up until midnight or gently nudge you awake at 4am to tell you he loved you.

“satoru,” you whispered groggily when you gave up trying to ignore his awful singing, lifting your head up just enough to meet his eyes. he would have done anything to see you physically before him instead of watching you through the lens of a camera. to be looked at with love as you did and not a mix of fear and respect. “if yaga catches you–”

“i’m just singing happy birthday to my girl,” his younger self dismissed, plopping down onto the bed next to you. he preferred your bed over his, a softer mattress he used to argue when shoko would complain about him showing up at your shared dorm several nights in a row. that particular birthday, he was pretty sure she’d been sent on a training mission over in kyoto. gojo’s hand came into frame as he ran a gentle hand through your hair, giving it a little pat when you quietly hummed at the contact. “he can’t hate on me for that.”

“yes he can,” you retorted, rolling your eyes with a tired smile. gojo felt his chest tighten – two years without waking up by that very same smile after almost a decade of having it everyday.

“i’ll blame shoko,” gojo shrugged with a grin, kicking his legs up onto your bed, despite your small protest that he was taking up all of your space. like you weren’t just as clingy as he was.

you huffed out a quiet laugh, your elbow digging into your pillow as you rested your head in your hand to stare incredulously at your boyfriend. “shoko forced the strongest sorcerer of the modern day to enter the girls’ dorms? uh huh.”

“woah woah, i’m the strongest of all time baby, i don’t do second best,” he corrected, leaning down to give you a peck on the forehead. you scrunched your nose up at the contact, but even through the viewpoint of the camera, he can see how your eyes dropped down to his lips.

“i know you don’t,” you smiled and gojo dropped the camera down as he moved to give you your first real kiss of seventeen. present day gojo sucked in a breath, willing for himself to get through at least one several minute video of you until he started crying.

the kiss ended all too quickly as gojo shoved the camera back into your face, the flash causing you to squint and squeeze your eyes closed. “now smile and say cheese, you’re seventeen!”

“woo!” you cheered half heartedly, giving in to his infectious excitement. blowing the camera a tired kiss, you shuffled yourself back deep beneath your duvet. “now can i go back to sleep?”

“as long as i can stay.”

“fine,” you dragged out, though you both knew you wanted him to just as much. yaga be damned. the video ended several seconds later and an odd silence filled his office. 

he’d only ever watched several of these videos once or twice – back when he still had you to curl up into his side and reminisce with him and laugh at nanami’s old haircut. if he was being honest, he didn’t even remember he’d recorded that (though he was glad he did).

gojo was more confident this time when he scrolled, his hands no longer shaking as much as they had been as he smiled at the life he once had. a life with you and geto.

this time he stopped at a thumbnail with the three of you; gojo holding up the camera high as the three of you posed like it was a photo. it was at one of only a handful clan events you had attended together, with both you and geto as gojo’s plus ones. he and geto were in matching suits and you were in a floor length dress that he’d spent way too much money on (but you looked so pretty when you tried it on he couldn’t not get it for you).

“hi this is mtv,” you clapped your hands together, “and welcome to my crib.” his younger self waved his hands around in the background (geto was recording), showing off the spiralling architecture that cost more money than fathomable. 

gojo quietly laughed in his office. the politics of clans and these events were the last reason he’d ever chosen to attend them. seeing you all dressed up and running around buildings with a million rooms were right at the top. his favourite had to be when both the first years, shoko and utahime had also been in attendance, but after haibara’s death, hanging around with the clans that upheld the institution that killed their friend seemed distasteful.

“this is my in house art museum collection.” you led geto along one of the vast corridors, pointing into a room with dozens of framed canvases of art from all across the globe. “this is where i come in for inspiration and to truly just feel art you know?”

“i wasn’t aware you had skills beyond stickmen,” geto interjected and you raised both your middle fingers at him.

“art is subjective, di–”

“woah, i have standards to uphold here,” gojo cupped a hand over your mouth, stopping any expletive leaving you. you hummed in annoyance and the white haired sorcerer grinned, nodding his head over to a partially opened door. “we don’t need to argue when we have a whole cinema room to ourselves.” gojo remembered the stain of red lipstick you’d left on his hand when he let you go (you’d refused to kiss him all evening because of your makeup).

the cinema room was massive: rows and rows of sleek leather seats that looked out of place when compared to the aesthetic of the building. this was someone’s home, though it looked like anything but.

“this is my cinema room,” geto held onto the back of one of the chairs as he loosened his tie. he lowered his voice as he leant closer to the camera gojo was now holding. “we used to have two but daddy converted the smaller one into a sauna so now we only have this one,” he said with an upturned nose, and you could be heard giggling in the background at his faux disgust.

you nor geto were from the same wealthy background as gojo was and loved to poke fun at his high status background.

“oi!” an official that was supposed to be watching for any curses or curse users that tried to sneak into the event pointed a light into the cinema room. “you kids shouldn’t be back here!”

gojo laughed, throwing the camera to geto as he grabbed your hand and led you quickly down the stairs to another exit at the bottom of the stairs. geto turned off the recording once he’d grabbed a hold of the device in favour of focusing on not being caught. it wasn’t like there would be any real consequence – they were with gojo satoru after all.

the white hair sorcerer smiled as he thought back to the rest of the night. obviously, you’d all managed to get away – though he had suffered your wrath at the fact your legs weren’t as long as their’s were and you were running in heels. two strikes, but he’d made it up to you by taking you out for ice cream instead of going back to hear the speeches.

it wasn’t an exaggeration to say gojo would have done anything for you then. 

gojo swallowed a lump in his throat as your last interaction came to mind. you were arguing, as you had been in the weeks up until megumi’s birthday as he inched closer and closer to being old enough to enrol in jujutsu high.

the only wish he’d ever refused to fulfil: keeping megumi away from jujutsu.

“he’s our responsibility.” you were yelling at him, desperate for him to understand your point of view and he was walking away. dodging your anger by going wherever his legs took him – anywhere but where you were. “we need to protect him. we can’t protect him if he becomes a sorcerer too.” 

“i can,” he insisted, halting in his place to turn and look down at you. his cursed technique was activated, though there was no need for it to be, and all it did was frustrate you further.

“i nearly died today!” you countered, pointing to your neck with a faint scar. shoko’s reversed cursed technique was almost perfect, but not even that could fully erase the deep lacerations that had almost taken your life. “where were you? you can’t be everywhere and help everyone at the same time. it’s just not possible.”

“i can try.” his jaw was tight as he responded through gritted teeth.

“and if that’s not enough?” you didn’t need to see his eyes to know his were locked directly onto yours, daring you to continue. he wouldn’t hurt you, would never dream of it, angry or not, but how could you of all people doubt him? “what then gojo satoru?” you uttered his full name like it was an insult, “you may be the strongest but he’s not. i’m not. we’re mortals compared to you.”

“you’re my family,” his voice broke.

“yu and suguru were family once too.”

gojo clenched his fists at the memory, at the reminder he walked out after that. you were trying to get him to see your concerns, and he’d taken that as you blaming him for the outcome of your close friends. that was the last time he ever saw you; tears welling up in the corner of your eyes at his insensitivity, at his inability to admit that maybe, just maybe, he too was just a mortal. 

everything you said was logical and made sense – he had almost lost you that day, having not initially received the message that you had needed backup as he was preoccupied with his own mission. by the time he had arrived, the curse had its claws dug deep into your skin and it had taken everything in him not to use hollow purple and bring the entire infrastructure down in seconds.

despite all he’d done to save you that day, he’d still lost you. he’d only delayed the seemingly inevitable by mere hours.

megumi sat up in bed at the sound of two knocks on the door. he highly doubted it would be yuuji since the pink haired sorcerer had only left several minutes prior, saying something about needing to meet panda. 

to his surprise, gojo stood before him, hands in the pockets of his pants as he half smiled at the younger boy. 

“is itadori here?” megumi hesitated before shaking his head. “good,” gojo held up the missing dvd, “we need to talk.”

taglist. @thefictionalcharacterssimp @hana-patata @mor-pheus @leathairs @sh0ek0 @maliakealoha @levisteeacup @g-kleran @stevenknightmarc @n1kimura @darliingyu @saturn-alone @splxtscreen @leah-rose03 @rinshoe @laurenzitaa @patricia142lilian @sabo-has-my-heart @wooasecret @dahliawarner @kysrion @dreamerdeity @mwah-chia @geromiegerald @arminsarlerts @maliakealoha @cherrypieyourface @k4romis @monsieurgucchi @bofadeezs @777userz @polarbvnny @chonkercatto @tenshis-cake @haitanibros0007 @ba-ks @liaurokodaki @urfavvirg0 @lofasofabread @r0ckst4rjk @vee-ai @aiikuraa @melileli0001 @rinshoe @vinivave @yell0wdreams @sukunasleftkneecap @malikazz243 @sad-darksoul @giannitaa @maliciousmace @name-insert @splxtscreen @kimvmarvel @ieathairs @janbannan @ja-zz @vangoes @starringz @ciscob1tes @theoriginaluzisimp @thirtykiwis @vivienne2000 @whydohumansss @purpleguk @simeon-lovergirl @missesgojosatoru @loveroftheoldestdream @mkaiiserr

if ive missed anyone im so sorry send me a little reminder &lt;3

[reignpage]

hiiii i hope this doesnt add to the super specific ask about the eden characters and doesnt seem weird but im kinda curious of what the eden couples argue about, like what causes them to argue and how long does it take for them to resolve their issues? (maybe also what they do for forgiveness? like im thinking someone would cut up fruits for their lover as an apology 💀)

Two questions in one ask HOW GREEDDDY😡

Gojo and reader

In college:

They argue about Gojo’s friends. The frat guys who are rowdy and boisterous. Most of them are nice enough but frat guys get drunk and they become people reader can’t stand to be around. But they’re Gojo’s boys so he gets defensive. This is a recurring issue so it doesn’t really get resolved, it just dies down until it gets brought up again

In life:

They argue over Gojo’s immaturity. He’s too go with the flow sometimes and it leaves reader to deal with things, like he’s always lived in a position of privilege so there are some things he misses or he just doesn’t know, like how to lead a business or be a good role model.

It doesn’t take very long for Gojo to realise because he can see her getting visibly panicked.

Gojo apologises for leaving the responsibility to her by stepping up and getting serious. And then he’s pampering her with a spa day and shopping

Geto and reader

Generally:

Geto has a tendency to become withdrawn, to start smoking more often and to lose sleep, not telling her what’s on his mind. It’s hard for reader because she’s never been in his position so she doesn’t know what to do, she wants to give him his space but she’s worried giving him too much would just allow him to spiral more, but then pushing her way in might just push him away altogether

It varies every time. Sometimes it takes a week, sometimes it takes a month etc

Geto can only apologise and try to do better, making up for lost time and attending all the therapy. But none of it ever seems to do the trick

Choso and reader

They don’t have deep issues to resolve lol, these two are like hippies, it’s all just weed and art for them

But reader does get annoyed when Choso leaves his supplies around. She trips on paint cans or stubs her toes on canvas lying on the floor. She gives him the silent treatment.

It never lasts long, choso’s got a sixth sense when it comes to his muse. And he hates making her upset, so he’ll clean everything in the house just to cover all bases. And then he gets on his knees and literally begs her to forgive him.

Reader always has a devious idea for a punishment (not always sexual but tends to be) it could be something like being her nude model for hours. Choso will do whatever, he has little pride lol

Toji and reader

Oh god, these two argue all the damn time. It’s mostly reader telling Toji off. Something like leaving his basketball everywhere or staying out too late or not throwing beer bottles away or getting into a fight with another player or a coach etc etc

It can last a while since they’re both stubborn. Longest was when he quit his job as a physical trainer without consulting her and that fight lasted three weeks. But generally it’s days.

Toji knows he’s usually in the wrong and he cozies up to her, rubbing her shoulders, hugging her from the back, kissing her until she breaks.

They fuck it out.

Lots of angry sex. Sometimes they fight just to have angry sex.

Nanami and reader:

They don’t have little fights. Nanami’s literally perfect, he has no flaws no I am not biased. Reader on the other hand is full of flaws and bad habits lol. But he’s forgiving and oh so patient, so there’s rarely ever any issue.

They do have big fights though, mostly around reader’s insecurities. Like the research partner. There’s no shouting, just tears, a lot of tears and lot of sobbing and begging.

When he sees her like that, Nanami’s heart breaks. Like literally. He falls to his knees and begs her to let him in, to not push him away, to trust him and believe him when he says there’s no one else, there’s never been anyone else.

He holds her in his arms until she calms down, takes her to the bath, and does her whole routine for her. Then he takes her to bed where he tries to soothe her and lets her fall asleep crying. When they wake up, reader is ashamed.

He doesn’t let her apologise.

Sukuna and reader:

Boy oh boy where do I begin with these two?

They argue over a lot of things. Sukuna hates when she’s nice to stupid, rich men, especially if they’re handsome. Reader hates when he’s nice to stupid rich, women, especially if they’re beautiful, and oh my god if they’re beautiful AND younger. Sukuna gets upset because she never butters him up like that. Reader is upset because he’s never nice.

They fuck it out.

Lots of angry sex that are more like hate sex? It’s just the forest over and over again, in every surface in every room in every conceivable position.

Then they’re good again.

Sometimes reader remembers what happened in first year and just gives him the silent treatment. Oh god sukuna hates the silent treatment, it’s worse than when she screams at him and attacks him, or even when she snubs him in public. He tries to do it back to her and these ice cold moments in the estate where they pretend the other doesn’t exist can last weeks, months. One time lasted 5 months.

Sukuna always caves first. He cuffs her to him when she’s sleeping so she’s forced to acknowledge his presence and even though she breaks the silence first, they both know he lost

He doesn’t mind losing when it feels like winning

[innerfare]

Law Leaving - Part 1

Summary: Law is leaving for Punk Hazard/Dressrosa. Reader is a Heart Pirate and marine biologist. Features mutual pining and unrequited love. This thing I wrote here could be considered a prequel if you want to read it.

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x Gn!Reader

Genre: Angst, Eventual Fluff

CW: SFW // None

Word Count: 978

———

You entered Law’s cabin and closed the door behind you, leaning up against the wall with your arms folded over your aching chest. You wore his hoodie, the yellow one with black sleeves, the smell of your captain lingering on the soft fabric the most comfort you could find as he packed his things for his trip. 

His clothes were folded meticulously, his blade in mint condition. He looked as prepared as ever, completely put together. And yet, he lingered, refolding the same few shirts several times over and inspecting his blade for flaws you both knew were not there. 

You knew to expect this sort of opaque communication with him. Everything with Law at the moment was a gray area, your relationship included. 

Were you captain and crew mate, operating on a strict hierarchy? Were you colleagues conducting research together in the laboratory aboard the Polar Tang? Were you friends brought together by a shared love of adventure? Were you victims of isolation and long nights alone, the few chaste kisses you’d shared in the shadows of the lab nothing more than a mistake, something you’d done because you were lonely and tired? Were you on your way to becoming lovers, with deeper kisses soon to come? Was there something more permanent, more serious, to be eked out, or was it purely physical? 

You made him snacks when you were up late working together, and he always brought you matcha without asking. He borrowed your books and returned them with an origami swan or flower in the pages, and you kept wearing the hoodie he’d given you when you got too cold one night. The two of you discussed what books and papers you’d been reading as of late, shared song recommendations, and even offered each other the parts of your meals you didn’t want. 

Whatever your relationship was, it was a relationship. 

And he was leaving. 

“It’s for your own good,” he said, pushing the last of his things into his bag and drawing it shut, an unreadable expression on his face. 

You swallowed your scoff but couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes. “Bullshit.” You looked up from the floor and met his gaze head on. “What’s the point of having a crew if you can’t trust them to have your back?” 

“I do trust you. That’s why I’m leaving you in charge.” 

You rolled your eyes again. “I didn’t join your crew to babysit a bunch of nurses. Sure, I love them, but I joined for you, Law.” 

“I’m glad to hear it, y/n-ah. I really am.” He turned away from you. “We can talk about it more when I get back.” 

“I joined for you.” You pushed off the wall and took a step forward, clenching your jaw at the sight of his turned back. He couldn’t even look at you while he relegated you to the sidelines. “And now you’re leaving.” 

“I can’t lose you!” He snapped. When he turned around, there was a fire in his eyes you’d never seen before, a desperation that terrified you. He looked as if he was hanging off the side of a cliff, his fingers barely curled around the edge. He looked as if he was about to lose everything. But in typical Law fashion, he recovered quickly, guarded expression returning. “I can’t lose any of you.” He cleared his throat, looking anywhere but your face. “I won’t risk it.” 

You wanted to reach out and grab him. You weren’t sure what you would do after that, if you would pull him in for a hug and try to cradle him in your arms despite his superior size, or if you would place one of those chaste kisses on his lips, perhaps another on his cheek. Maybe you would run your fingers through his hair. But that uncertainty kept you from touching him at all. 

You stepped out of his way, wrapping your arms tighter around your body. You stared at the ground, eyes burning. You refused to shed any tears, though. You’d never been so angry at Law, and you didn’t want to let him see just how deep he’d cut you by not even asking for your help. And after all those times he’d told you he trusted you. 

Despite you no longer standing in his path, he didn’t leave. He remained glued to his spot by the bed, sword and bag in hand. 

“Tell me you’ll still be here when I get back,” he said without looking at you. “I need…” When he trailed off, he seemed unusually vulnerable, and you thought he might offer you some kind words. After a moment, he cleared his throat. “I need to know Bepo will be safe. He buckles under pressure.” 

You wanted to push him, to give him some sort of ultimatum, to force him to come clean and say what he meant rather than leaving you wondering, but you knew that was selfish considering the position he was in; he had more important things to deal with. 

So, you clenched your jaw and assured him, “Bepo will be safe.” Putting your feelings aside was worth it when you saw a little bit of tension leave his body. 

“Thank you, y/n-ah.” He brushed past you, and that should’ve been the end of it. 

But just as he reached the door, you whirled around and stated, “You’d better be safe too, Law. You have people waiting for you, people who care about you. You know that, don’t you? We all care about you.” Your voice cracked painfully toward the end. 

Law stopped in the doorway. Again, you couldn’t see his face, but you saw how he lowered his head, and you thought perhaps your words had landed. 

“When I get back,” he promised once more, and with that, he was gone. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! Parts 1.5 and 2 will be up tomorrow and the next day! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[blingblong55]

Every Breath You Take- Simon "Ghost" Riley

-Not based on a request- --- F!Reader, angst?, break!up, ex-boyfriend!simon, longing --- A/N: I wrote this inspired by the song Every Breath You take by The Police, duh. and also, if you want a Spotify playlist with this kind of vibe, this is the link. I used this playlist to write this one so....yeah

Every breath felt heavier when you were around him and when you weren't, it felt worse. Simon had always been a constant in your life, the shadow that loomed just far enough to let you shine but close enough to catch you if you ever fell. He was much more than a boyfriend, he was the guy who had seen you stress over little things but also the one who appreciated all of your littlest of flaws. The relationship was based on pure love, adoration, respect and friendship. Something most know they can't afford.

When you told him you wanted to continue school to go beyond and receive a PhD, he was there to cheer you on. Eventually, it was him and you, walking at odd hours of the day. Every day, he made sure you got out of your room, to walk, to socialize but mainly to relax. He knew you wanted this, wanted something special, a title few get but many appreciate.

Like him, you were a soldier before all. You, the smart one everyone in the room looked at for information and facts. Something that made you smile internally and something he felt proud of. He isn't the kind of man who feels threatened by his partner's brightness or anything else, he is the kind to celebrate it because it's something to be proud of. However, two years before you finished your doctorate, it all unravelled. The strain of balancing missions, your degree, and your relationship with Simon became a burden you couldn't shoulder anymore. He didn't fight you when you said it was over. It hurt, yes but he understood. His quiet acceptance of your decision hurt more than if he'd begged you to stay.

You buried yourself in your studies, drowning in research and late nights with coffee-stained notes and a perpetually messy desk. It was easier to focus on the path that you had chosen than to dwell on the absence of his voice, his touch, his presence. Simon, in turn, buried himself in missions, his absences becoming longer and his silences more profound. The few times you crossed paths during briefings or operations, he was polite but distant. Professional. Fuck, it stung.

But you remembered his promise. One night, years ago, when your head was resting on his chest and his right hand was intertwined with your right, you confided in him about your dreams of earning a doctorate. On nights like this, after a mission when he could be vulnerable and hold his angel, he would enjoy listening to your dreams, silently hoping that he could help you make them all come true. He smiled a rare, genuine smile, and said, "I'll be there. Front row. Might even be that kind of bloke that brings a sign that says, 'That's my girl.'" You laughed and kissed his hand.

And true to his word, when the day finally came, Simon was there when the time had come. He was always the kind of man everyone knew they could rely on because he kept his word. When he had gotten the news through Price that you'd be taking days off to celebrate and part-take in your ceremony, he knew what he had to do.

You didn't see him in the crowd, of course. You were too preoccupied with nerves and excitement as you stepped onto the stage, the culmination of years of sacrifice and hard work manifesting in the applause that echoed through the auditorium. Your family cheered, their pride palpable. As you shook hands with the dean and accepted your diploma, you allowed yourself a brief moment of pride. You'd done it. You'd finally done it.

Simon watched from the back, his heart heavier than he ever thought possible. He'd taken a few days off, something he hadn't done in years, just to be here. He'd stood in the shadows, like always, letting the crowd and the celebration shield him from view. In those seconds, as you looked at the crowd while you walked back down to the seats, you allowed yourself to look for him. There was hope in the stare you gave the crowd but it faded quickly when you didn't spot him. His smile was soft but tinged with sadness. He wanted to be in the front row, cheering for you, holding you, telling you how proud he was. But that wasn't his place anymore.

When your family surrounded you, pulling you into hugs and taking pictures, Simon lingered a few feet away. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his black surgical mask pulled over his nose. Old habits died hard. For a moment, he considered walking over and saying something, but what could he say? "Congratulations?" It felt hollow.

So, he left, slipping past you quietly as he'd come, his promise fulfilled. Just ten seconds later, you turn around but only see proud parents. It was weird, you felt something but you brushed it off. You went back to the hugs and the thank you's. It was hard to feel so happy, but I did it without the guy who was there for all the all-nighters and the rehearsed speeches.

Months passed. You'd thrown yourself back into work, rising through the ranks with the same determination that has carried you through your degree. Promotions came quickly, and your name became synonymous with excellence. And Simon watched it all from a distance, pride and regret warring within him.

When you were promoted again, he couldn't stay away any longer. It was a small ceremony, just your unit and a few high-ranking officers. Simo lingered at the edge of the room, waiting until the crowd thinned out before approaching you.

"Congratulations, for all the success you've had," his voice low and rough. You turned, startled to see him there. It had been months since you'd spoken, beyond curt exchanges during missions. He looked the same but different, the weight of time and distance etched into his features.

"Simon," you said, his name tasting bittersweet on your tongue. "Thank you." He nodded, his eyes scanning your face as if committing it to the depth of his brain. Because what if this was the last time he was this close? When the others had filtered out, leaving you two alone, he shifted awkwardly, his hands brushing against his thighs.

Silence. Silence.

"I was there, you know," he said finally, breaking the silence. "At the ceremony, when you were handed that doctorate." You blinked, caught off guard. "You were?"

He nodded, a faint smile tugging his lips. How could he forget the biggest day of your life so far? "Didn't think it was my place to be front and centre, but I… I kept my promise."

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The weight of his words settled between you, heavy with unspoken emotions. Your throat tightened, and you had to look away, blinking rapidly to stave off the tears threatening to spill.

"Thank you," you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. Simon's gaze softened, and for a fleeting moment, you thought he might reach for you. But he didn't. Instead, he nodded again, his eyes lingering on you a moment longer before he stepped back.

A/N: this was written with no true ending, just like in real life. So, truly, the ending the their story isn't for me to make or for you to decide on, it's left in a cliffhanger like most loves end.

Tags: @liyanahelena @mangowafflesss @goldenmclaren @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @rvivienner @Krinoid24 @iruzias @frazie99  @idklols @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @juneonhoth  @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @enarien  @Simonssweetgirl @luvecarson  @willowaftxn83-87  @ikohniik @nobodys-coffee @strawberrychita @sae1kie @queen-ilmaree @pbcartii @Llelannie @Macnches2 @bbyfimmie @avidreadee123 @talooolaaloolla @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @Nyx_Flower @honestlyhiswife @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @konigssultwithghost @kaoyamamegami @beansproutmafia @soapybutt17 @asianbutnotjapanese @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @sleepyycatt @believeinthefireflies95 @noodlezz-bedo @alexaseeraj @trinthealternate @vampsquerade @azkza @VampyTheGoth @mariededenie

[cherubimcore]

phantom of the opera ! au

pairing: logan x reader

author's notes: i have been writing this since last month, i still don't think is really that good but i'm happy with it, i did re-read the phantom of the opera and did my research to write this fic (still i could have made some mistakes) so after saying all that happy halloween! 🎃

“the phantom of the opera really existed, but he wasn’t a cold translucent body that resembles a person nor a floating sheet with holes for eyes, the phantom of the opera was a broken man with such a guilt on his shoulders that made him feel like a monster, everyone thought of him as a monster but every time i looked at him i only saw a man that suffered his entire life, that needed someone to love and cherish him despite his flaws and i love i love i love him and he loves me back with the same passion”

- (l/n), (y/n). diary of (y/n), 1870

your day ended with whispers amid young dancers and singers in the dressing room.

“i saw the phantom today while we performed!”

“you saw him?”

“as plainly as i see you!”

“what does he look like? please tell us!”

while taking off your corset you started to pay attention to their words when you heard the mention of this phantom, everyone was uneasy (to say the least) in the opera house because of the rumors of a ghost wandering around, especially after the death of the stagehand after a performance not long ago.

“well… he was in one of the boxes, box five you know, the box on the grand tier, next to the stage-box, on the left”

“this is ridiculous!” you said, a hand on the hip and furrowed brows “you wouldn’t be able to see anything in box five from the stage, let alone a person!”

“it wasn’t a person!” the girl you still haven’t learned the name snapped as if she couldn’t believe someone was doubting her testimony, she then sat down again with a terrified expression “it was him, i’m sure of it, the phantom! it was the monster that killed mr. buquet!”

“mr. buquet was found hanged” you clarified trying to put some sense in the girl’s head, as much as you were also scared of the thought of working in a haunted opera with a killer ghost, you also tries to use logic in every aspect of your life, and everything related to this rumor was not logic “he killed himself, that had nothing to do with this phantom of your because he simply isn’t real”

another one of the girls who hadn’t been talking all that much clenched her fists.

“i want to hear you say that when he comes after you!” she hissed “let’s go, girls”

the other dancers gathered their belongings and left the room.

in a blink of an eye you were alone.

it was already difficult enough being the new girl, but now you were the new girl everybody hated.

with a sigh you plop down on a chair in the corner of the room and start to think.

there were things concerning you more than this stupid rumor, worries that came before you got hired in the opera.

you always loved to sing, with both your parents being musicians, you were surrounded by music since you were born and throughout your life the only thing that made you keep going was your dream of becoming a lead soprano, the lead soprano, someone who’s voice would be remembered for the rest of eternity, so you practiced and practiced and practiced to one day perform on stage and hear the praises of the public, infatuated with your voice.

but after the death of your parents you stopped singing completely, not feeling the joy you once felt only the grief consuming your soul, it took years for you to start singing again and by the time you started once again, you were already a bit rusty, but you couldn’t give up, even if your parents weren’t here anymore you would make them proud.

but doubts always lingered in your mind ever since you got hired in the palais garnier: what if you couldn’t make your parents proud? what if you weren’t good enough? what if even if you practiced 24/7, 7 days a week you still wouldn’t get the lead soprano role like you always wanted?

what if you simply were a failure?

your took a deep breath feeling tears running down your cheeks and quickly dried them with the sleeve of your costume.

you get up determined to bury those thoughts so deep inside you they wouldn’t be able to claw their way back and ruin you.

you were going to be the lead soprano.

people will love your voice.

your parents will be proud.

whatever it takes.

a couple days later after making that promise you were in your dressing room after another performance still breathing heavily from the intensity of the spectacle, behind your door you could hear whispers and footsteps meaning people were already leaving the opera for the night, you knew you needed to leave sooner or later but your mistakes on stage kept plaguing your mind, it had been days since you had a proper night of sleep and some of your co-workers started to take notice of the heavy bags under your eyes but you simply couldn’t sleep knowing your goal was so far away, especially when you caught the other singers saying you were “singing like a crock”after practice, questioning how someone like you has been hired in the infamous palais garnier.

so you wouldn’t sleep, if you wanted to be better than all of them you needed to practice twice as hard.

you took a deep breath while locking the door to make sure no one would interrupt you and started to undress from your cherubino costume, you still didn’t know why the directors made you play a breeches role even if it your voice wasn’t the right tone for this character, and put some actual comfortable clothes before taking off your make-up.

with one more look at the mirror you started to sing.

your sweet yet insecure voice filled your dressing room, it was a promising voice, but it lacked control and you knew it, your voice faltered at some point making you sigh, frustrated. you couldn’t reach the higher notes and it tormented you, with a groan you opened your mouth to start again.

but before any sound could come out of your throat you felt a presence in the room.

suddenly a deep and seductive voice echoed off the walls, as if coming from every corner at once “you are forcing it”

your breath was caught in your chest as you looked around, but saw no one.

“who’s there?” you asked with a trembling voice.

“someone who can help you, if you trust me”

a shiver ran down your spine.

it was him.

you just knew it.

the phantom.

somehow he passed through your locked door, now you were the one locked inside with him.

“why should i trust you?” you replied with more courage than you actually felt.

“because i can make you into what you wish to be and more, everything you dream can be yours… if you accept me as your mentor.”

you hesitated, torn between fear and a strange attraction, feeling a shiver run down your spine. you knew you should fear this man, you knew you should get out of the room screaming for your life, but the promise he made, to reach the greatness you so desired, was irresistible.

“yes” you whispered, sealing your fate.

from that night on, the phantom became your shadow, guiding you through every note, shaping your voice until perfection, but his presence was overwhelming. you felt his gaze at all times, as if he could see through you, knowing every thought, every emotion, you even questioned at one point if he could actually read your mind.

your classes first started in your own dressing room, you remembered the first time you actually saw him, after countless times asking him to show himself, you lost your breath, the man was breathtaking, he had a strong built body beneath dress-clothes that hugged his body perfectly even with those clothes you could tell he had a hirsute physique especially because of his mutton chop sideburns, he also had a unique hairstyle that reminded you of cat ears for some reason.

“you…” you looked at him puzzled “you are the phantom of the opera?”

the man chuckles while looking around the room lit by a soft light, the only thing he could think about was how he never had seen it so close.

“that’s what they call me?” he smiled at you, you noticed he had animal-like canine teeth, a small detail that, alongside his other features, made your knees weak.

you smiled at him.

“what should i call you?” you asked “since you are my mentor now, how do you want me to call you?”

he looked a little shocked when you make that question, as if no one had asked him that in a long time.

“logan” the man you once called phantom answered, a little out of breath “you can call me logan…”

overtime, something strange began to happen, it wasn’t just your voice that was changing, your heart raced every time you heard his voice. you longed for his teaching, for his presence.

logan also started to change, instead of coaching you as far away as possible he started to get closer and closer to you, slowly he would open up about his past but nothing that would indicate how logan ended up in the opera house and you were scared to ask questions and end up pushing him away, what had started as mere admiration on both parts grew into something deeper and darker.

you began to seek him out, even when he didn’t call you, the thing you most wanted was to see who the man behind the grumpy face was, why was he living in the opera? where were his family? what was he hiding?

your heart races with an inexplicable pull towards logan, a fascination you can no longer deny, with all those feelings and questions in your mind you decided to follow him deeper into the shadows.

it was difficult to put your plan into action, you started to understand why logan laughed when you said people called him “phantom”.

logan really had the gift of appearing and disappearing to his heart’s content as if he didn’t have a physical body.

but you knew better.

after failing multiple times to follow him you started to watch the man even more closely every time when you were together, and when you weren’t you wandered around the opera trying to understand the architecture and looking for secret passages and hiding places that would allow logan to pass unseen amongst opera workers and yourself.

to be honest you felt a little bit ridiculous doing this but you knew, even if it would sound ridiculous to someone else, it was the only possible explanation you had at the moment.

and it didn’t take long for you to find out what you were looking for.

and it took even less time for you to find yourself in the underground catacombs of the paris opera house.

“what am i doing? what am i doing? what am i doing?” you chanted to yourself while looking at the damp walls and flickering lights in what felt like a haunted place at the time, but then you started to actually think about what were you doing and who are you doing it for.

you were doing this for the man who found potential in your voice at a time you were unsure if you actually had any talent for singing.

you were doing this for the man that held you so delicately when you were crying your eyes out when you didn’t get the role of eurydice, a role where you practiced so hard with him and you felt you were letting him down because of your failure.

you were doing this for the man that, when you mentioned that to him, he held your face still wet from your tears and made you look into his eyes, instead of finding him looking at you with an angry expression and telling you he really was disappointed with you, questioning why he decided to be your mentor actually you were met with the kindest eyes you had ever seen in your life while logan whispered “you will never let me down”

you were doing this for the man that never let you touch his hands saying they had done more harm than good, that they are dangerous but you always notice the longing expression, showing a desire for you to ignore his words and look past his facade and love him besides his faults.

and you do.

you do love him besides his faults.

you are doing this for logan, the man that also loves you besides your own faults.

a lost soul, yearning, just like yours.

your thoughts were interrupted when you heard his voice.

“you shouldn’t have come, (y/n). these halls, this life… it’s not meant for you.”

ahead of you, logan’s form is barely visible, his black clothes blending with the darkness.

the man speaks without turning, his voice both haunting and tender.

“but i must understand” your voice wavers, not from hesitation “you… you’re more than a phantom, more than the stories they tell, i’ve felt it since the first time you sang to me.”

you took a few more steps closer.

“you say this is not my world, but i feel like i belong here with you, in the music, in the dark”

“what about your dream?” logan finally turned to face you, even in the badly lit room you were in, the pain in his eyes was unmistakable “your dream to be a lead soprano? your dream to make the world know your voice?”

you giggled.

“i can still do all those things, i never said i wanted to be famous,” you confessed “i want to be a legend, the lead soprano who made people reach nirvana once in their life to never be seen again.”

logan looked puzzled, he couldn’t understand how someone like you would prefer a life in darkness with him instead of the glory of being in the spotlight where you could have everything you wanted.

“you don’t know what you are saying” logan’s voice trembles as he gestures around him, to the cavernous, endless maze of catacombs “this is not beauty, it is madness, a prison. my past, what i truly am… are not things you would wish to see.

you stepped closer to him, your hand outstretched but not quite touching the man in front of you.

“then show me. show me your past. show me your pain” your breath catches in your throat as you speak “i want to know, logan. i want to see what makes you… you.”

logan inhales sharply at hearing his name on your lips, as if you had unraveled a sacred secret. he looks away, conflicted, his shoulders tense. but you move even closer, your fingers brushing the edge of his suit.

“if you follow me any further, (y/n), there will be no turning back." logan's voice softens, filled with sorrow. "my world, my heart - it will consume you."

he looks into your eyes, pleading with you to turn away, pleading with you to think again and leave him in the darkness and live a better life.

but seeing the determination in your face, he sighs defeated.

"very well... follow me"

logan continues deeper into the labyrinth, and you, unwavering follows. the air grows colder, the walls narrower making you feel as if the weight of the earth is pressing down on you, it didn't take long for you both to reach a hidden chamber. inside, candlelight flickers over rows of old mirrors, sheets of music, and a grand organ, half-covered in dust. the remnants of a tortures life, a man that forgot the world above.

your breath catches as you step into the room, your eyes scanning the relics of his past.

"this..." your voice is soft, filled with wonder and sadness. "this is where you've been all these years?"

you turn around to face him, logan watches you as if waiting for you to recoil in horror, but when you don't, when instead you step closer and places your hand gently on his, something breaks inside of him.

"this is all i am" logan's voice, rough but tender, breaks the silence "a creature of the dark, of pain. nothing more."

your eyes fill with tears, but still you don't look away.

"no. you are more than that. you are music, you are passion, you are love. logan, i see you and i love what i see."

gently you took his hands and place in on your cheeks, logan's eyes are filled with disbelief and emotion, met your.

"you don't know what i have done, you don't know what these hands are capable of"

"then show me and let me love you anyway"

in that moment, something shifts. the darkness no longer feels suffocating but intimate, a shared space where two souls, both broken in their own way, find solace in each other.

[drdemonprince]

By now, a majority of Autism researchers and clinicians are aware that the existing assessments for Autism are profoundly flawed. 

They know the standard evaluation of Autism is sexist, with assessors excluding women for reasons like wearing makeup, having a boyfriend, being superficially polite, or not being fixated on suitably ‘masculine’ topics like ancient Roman history or barometric pressure. 

They know Autism evaluations are racist, deeming Black Autistics “oppositionally defiant” or even “borderline” rather than acknowledging any social alienation or sensory pain they’re experiencing, and believing they must be overstating the difficulty they face in moving through the world.

And they certainly know that conventional Autism measures weren’t designed with adult Autistics in mind. Many of us are still asked to make up stories based on paintings of frogs in a toddler’s picture book, when we sit down for assessments at age 20, or 30, or 45 — because all the evaluation methods were written for young kids. 

The data has already proven the far-reaching consequences of using such shoddy measures of Autism. People of color, gender minorities, older adults, and women are diagnosed at later ages, and also go undiagnosed at massive rates. 

A growing population of scientists are admittedly interested in fostering a new literature of what they call “patient-driven” Autism research, but they never stop thinking of us as mere patients, the passive receivers of care rather than the leaders of communities and political movements who are the ought to be the primary authors of the studies about us, and the sole determinants of what our desired outcomes should be. Even when they observe that their work could benefit from a greater Autistic perspective, researchers do so from closed rooms, filled with other professionals who are largely not Autistic, wondering amongst themselves what it is that we want instead of learning to quiet their voices and follow our lead. 

Though many basically well-intentioned Autism researchers believe that Autism assessments need reform, what neurodiversity really needs is to abandon the diagnostic process altogether. If Autism is a benign, neutral, naturally occurring form of human difference that requires acceptance rather than a cure, then there’s no need to diagnose it as if it were a sickness. And if hundreds of thousands of Autistic women, people of color, queer people, and older people have been able to give a voice to ourselves and find one another without having ever been given a label by a professional, then improved professional labeling is not what we need. 

Autistic self-realization is the future of Autism assessment. We hold the collective wisdom, organizing ability, insight, and political power to define who we are. No authority figure should have to sign off on our identities. 

Because psychiatrists fail to diagnose such a large percentage of the Autistic population, many Autism researchers now accept self-identified Autistic adults within their subject pool. Within the peer-reviewed journal Autism in Adulthood, self-realized Autistics often make up the bulk of the participant sample, and they have repeatedly been found to be indistinguishable from their formally diagnosed peers. 

A growing body of research now also considers the presence of Autism-spectrum traits as qualifying for inclusion in many Autism studies. The data makes it quite obvious that Autistic people exist within all human groups, spread all throughout the world, and that a great many people have experiences in common with us who have not been formally diagnosed. This itself reveals that a formal diagnosis is hardly necessary, and that a psychiatric paradigm of accepting self-identification is inevitable. The researchers are increasingly already doing it.

You can read the full essay for free (or have it narrated to you!) at this link.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Hiking Trip (1) | Yandere Diasomnia

Imagine you’ve finally gotten to the next step in your relationship

“Hey me and the boys were going hiking up to the cottage, wanna come?”

“I’d love to!”

Yes you were dating an older man

So many times had you looked at others and thought you’d never find yourself with someone so well into their life

But Lilia was different

He was cool

A handsome-let’s be real cute face, fashionable style, and he played riveting ballads on his electric guitar

Not to mention he was oh so flexible

You loved your boyfriend even though people would keel when they heard his age

Or that he had kids just as old as you

But you didn’t mind

It didn’t matter what they thought

Because you loved him

And he loved you

Apparently enough to bring you along to the annual hiking trip he took with his kids

You’d done your research before then, scrolled through forums, read through step-kid threads

You’re prepared to have a purely amicable relationship with your boyfriend’s kids

Or prepare to be cussed out for simply dating him

“(Y/n) this is Silver, Malleus, and Sebek’s coming up with us too.”

“Hi”

“Hello.” “Nice to meet you, I’m excited to get to know you on this trip.” 

“Thanks me too!”

“So you’re the young leech that’s attached themselves to Master Lilia?”

When you expected to be chewed out and insulted you were certain the ones he directly raised would be the culprit

You were wrong 

Terribly wrong 

Turns out the boy who was a close-friend and self-proclaimed student of his was the one to do it

Left at the back of the group to be stuck with Sebek’s loud lecturing 

Going strong for 3 miles until he decides he’s been neglecting helping Malleus 

“Sorry we all left you to him like that. Lilia said it’s practically a right of passage for whoever's behind to have to deal with him.”

“Oh…well if it’s a right of passage it’s okay.”

You appreciate Silver 

And he seems to enjoy your company

Besides nearly falling asleep while walking he’s nice to talk to 

And he has no problem giggling with you about Sebek’s many laughable quirks

When you guys set up for camp you take right up on his offer to go search for wood

Even though Lilia could use your help starting the fire

You assure yourself that your just bonding with his kids

Which you’ll continue to tell yourself when Silver get’s unusually close to teach you how to activate the fire-safe torch 

Silver’s beside himself

He could no longer question if he was in love with his father’s partner

It was a definite positive now that he’d met you and spoke with you and could pick out your breathing pattern from the tent over

He was sure after hearing his father gush that he’d like you but in a way he was supposed to 

meeting you in person made him realize just how wrong he was

He refrained from doing a background check—especially since Sebek already did that

But he certainly paid attention to what his father had to say

Watching as he listed off your flaws and qualities that he so adored

Perhaps it was his fault that Silver was already so interested

Hearing the jokes you’d make, the excitement you had, the gifts you gave all to his father

It all too easily made it feel acceptable that he imagined it was he you were dating

Only to be pained by the way his father led you to his tent when the night came to a close

Maybe he was a bad son for deciding to sleep even though he saw Sebek wildly using the oil lamp to swat off fireflies 

Somehow dreaming about the future where you’d need his incredibly large sleeping bag to stay warm enough in the night