#I feel so tired eeee..!!

[konveeart]

I thought last year I made the Art Summary post in January but I played myself. Anyways, Happy New Year!

I figured in early 2023 that I have a difficulty differentiating "want" with "have to". It's a real piece of tangle that became alarmingly obvious in the last months, between end-September to spectacularly turn into an aggressively-flashing-sign in December. I found more balance than I ever have to this date in the first half and by losing it in the second I can confirm what made it work, which is a big win. I am entering 2024 determined, carrying my worries and feeling nervous, but I don't feel desperate. At least, not in art..! For the future.. the pov might heavily rely on my dopamine levels and Vitamin D deficiency.

I drew a lot this year! The difference between sketching and drawing/painting grows in my folders but I've consistently for 2 years kept a "warmup" folder which also grows with a satisfactory level of diligence and fun. I taught myself to draw decent hands (still struggling when they are closed or.. doing more things than fingers being spread-out to show "I am a hand"). I also did a lot of new things!

::Quick Summary

January: launched an enamel pin ks campaign || February: drew a lot of アキ天, zine work & made my first home-made sticker-sheets🍓|| March & April: chibi-style exploration, SK8 sticker-sheets, sketchbook challenge and campaigned another special-merch collaborative project (」*´∇｀)」 || May: Convention time! ..and final zine work for the year (￣▽￣)ゞ || June & July: busy with the ks & packing orders || August: r e s t ♥ (with the best beans! I miss you all!!) || September: revisions, file-sorting, wrap-up commissions, picking up my projects again || October: online-shop run, comic-drafting, life gets busy || November: life is on fire, paperwork, learning to study (and succeeding) but getting tired, trying my best to keep on drawing!! || December: burnout caught up, Christmas cards give me life (*˘︶˘*).｡.:*♡, escaped to the mountains, pet a lot of cats

Thank you for an adventurous year 🌱 Wishing everyone all the best for the coming one ♥

Fun facts:

I've done a decent amount of work for myself and I plan on doing more! I keep having the difficulty of working out some boundaries for myself but it's improving.

This is not a resolution but if by the end of the year I have not sorted out my files, that's it I'm deleting them...! (bold statement)

Feb-Mar-April I discovered The Pudding Club and GOON and their music gave me so much energy! This is one of my favorite songs and makes me do a little dance every time I hear it~

What steadily led me to burn-out by December was denying myself wind-down time, daily, for four months (if not more). I remember feeling anxious in Jan - April for making so much work and still going. "Can it really be this good? Is this normal??". But the seedling sprouted and I took good care of it, despite my worries. I intend to keep taking care of it with more diligence. Sleep and food are necessities, and so is play.

[starsandrqindrops]

SAHARRRR MY LOVE MY LOVE THANK YOU SO SO MUCH 🥹💗💗💗 !!!

seungmin thinks you’re the prettiest at your most ordinary. fluff and softness. pre-established relationship. (happy (very late) birthday to youuu my @starsandrqindrops i love u 💓)

there is an uncharacteristic tiredness that’s weighing on seungmin’s bones, making the mere act of moving his limbs draining. a faint headache pulsates from the base of his temple, and he shuts his eyes closed, forcing darkness to surround his senses, hoping that it’ll muffle the ache latching to his being.

but what soothes his senses is the sound of running water, more so the knowledge that you are near, just out of reach. you’ll come out soon of the shower and seungmin will be okay.

he doesn’t voice these thoughts to you as you come into the room, towel in hand as you dry your hair, clad in one of his old t-shirts. but his body seems to speak for him, eyes snapping open at the sound of you padding to the bed, spine readjusting so he’d sit against the headboard, eager to look at you more intently.

“tired?” you ask, planting a kiss on his temple before retrieving your hair bush from the bedside drawer. the pain in his head subsides, your existence the antidote for all his ailments.

“no, how was your day?” he asks softly, his warm palm resting on your bare knee. you quickly glance at him, at the way his eyebrows scrunch together ever so slightly, as if begging you to speak, to weave the dreadful silence with your sweet voice.

“it was good, i tried a new restaurant today,” you speak gently, combing slowly through your hair.

“yeah, what is it called?” he says, thumb circling your soft skin. he is no longer angry at the light, for it highlights every contour of your features. he no longer yearns for the dark, as in its absence he gets to see you. in all your ordinary glory.

and you look so beautiful.

“blossom, they have the cutest pastries. i think you’d really like their cheesecake. it’s decorated with edible flowers. and their coffee is to die for,” you recall excitedly, your eyes locking on his every now and then.

“mm,” he says absentmindedly, laying his head atop your lap. “what else did you do?”

“i had the most boring class today, you know the one with…” your voice fades into the background of seungmin’s mind, lingering like a sweet dream that doesn’t disappear even after you wake.

he’s focused on your bare face, and the way your lips move with each word you utter, he sees your gleaming eyes, radiant under the light, although unnecessary— the star you harbor for heart enough to lighten you up. he sees your hair settling into the curls he loves the most, wet droplets falling into your shirt—his. he sees the slate of your nose that he loves to peck and the cheeks he always cradles before sleeping. he sees you, at your most vulnerable state, at your most beautiful one, and he loves you. god, does he love you so much.

“are you even listening to me?” you giggle, running your hand through his black hair, the one you dyed between giddy kisses in the bathroom.

“you are so pretty,” he whispers, voice suddenly hoarse with emotion. he doesn’t know where this love tide came from, but he knows that the weariness is gone, that a warmth only you can produce has replaced it.

your cheeks are no longer devoid of color, a faint pink hue seeping through them. you smile, widely, with no hand before your mouth, no intent to hide from him. “i love you, you are the pretty one.”

“i know,” he smiles cheekily, further burying his head in your lap, arms wound around your legs. “keep talking.”

“what am i? your asmr podcast?” you chuckle, leaning down to press a kiss on the crown of his head. his headache is long gone.

“yes, you are mine. only mine, right?” he adds, a bit vulnerably, voice weaker.

“only yours.”

[tbaluver]

i loved the aftercared w/ them for the love&deepspace crew, but would love to see what aftercare the reader does for the boys in return. they deserve it & the world. <3 (p.s. pls ignore if you're not accepting requests)

When You Give Them AfterCare- The Love And DeepSpace Men

genre: overall fluff but contains suggestive content, MDNI

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader

a/n: eeee i'm so happy to hear you loved that headcanon! (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ you're so right they def deserve it and the world !! i hope you and everybody else enjoys this one as well! <3

any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

There would be times where he would be worn out after you both finished. He would be speechless, sweaty, and still would internally beg for more but his body would be screaming at him that he's tired and you noticed. He might not always have the energy to clean himself up so you'd gently clean him up.

You'd pull him up for a cuddle for a bit, his head rested on your chest. Your fingers would intertwine with his locks, giving his scalp a gentle massage, whispering how he did so well and he did so good.

If it were still early in the evening, you'd pull out your phone but keep it angled downward so he could see the options on what you both might want to order for delivery.

When you tell him that you both need to get up to shower, he'd be a little stubborn because he just does not want to be a second apart. You'd eventually convince him with your protest because you don't love being sticky and sweaty and he doesn't either.

He'll have somewhat of the energy to help you bathe but you insist on doing the work and his sleepy gazed eyes will you as you move around. You'd help pick out the comfiest clothes for him to wear afterwards.

Once your both settled back into bed, he would be super sleepy and he'll still be the big spoon. He would love when you run your hands through his hair to undo any tangles or massage his muscles afterwards or just a mix of all of that while giving him a ton of words of affirmation making him sleep so peacefully in your embrace.

Zayne:

He'll relax into the bed and sigh contently after reluctantly letting you clean him up. His hazy will watch you as you clean him up. You won't notice it but his ears would turn red. Once your done cleaning him up, you up and he's laid out on bed. He looks so good, built like a sculpted god.

You couldn't resist but you crawl towards him, guiding his head to rest against your chest and letting him listen to your heartbeat. He would let you do so as he relaxes against your body for a bit. You would grab his hand, kissing the backside of his knuckles as you tell him he did so well.

You would lead him to the bathroom, helping him wash, dry, and pick out comfy clothes for him. You would lead him back to your shared bed but not going in with him just yet. He would tug your wrist back in confusion, eyebrows furrowed. You would explain to him to give you a few minutes and you'll be right back.

You would come back with small healthy snacks and a cup of water and he would be melting at your small actions. You two would discuss small or deep conversations with your snacks before cleaning up and getting comfortable in bed.

Once you put away your snacks and your both cuddled in bed, your forehead rests against his. It would quiet now, just the steady sounds of both your breathing. Just the peacefulness and calmness made it feel like it was just only the two of you in your own world. You would trace the outline of his jaw before pulling him into a sweet passionate kiss as he would melt into your touched feeling oh so loved.

Rafayel:

He's always clingy even after sex and he always just wants to be within your reach and have you hold him afterwards. He loves when you play and brush tangled knots out of his messy hair as it would feel so calming.

He usually doesn't ask for it, mostly jokes about it, but he loves when you clean him up. He loves when you give him a lot of praise, reassurance, and kisses, or even just a mix of all of that. He loves hearing how you tell him how he did so well for you.

Obviously loves to bathe with you. This time he'll sit pressed back against you while your hands rub his shoulders. "You should do this more often. I think I like being taken care of." He would joke around.

Does not let you leave his proximity so he'll follow you around while you hold his hand to the kitchen as you chop up his favorite fruits. You two would have some small chit-chat and joke around before going back to your shared bedroom.

When both of you are back in bed, you would rest your chin on the crown of his head, giving him a couple of kisses as he holds you close and his hands are pressed against your back. He would nuzzle into your chest as you both drift off to sleep.

Sylus:

Once you'd remove the handcuffs from his wrists, you'd massage them and kiss over the red marks and help clean him up before cuddling down into him.

If he let you be the dominant one and if it were a rough session, you would give him a massage or tend any bruises, marks, scratches, or aches he's received. You would find the ointment or creams that he would usually use on you to apply on him.

However if it was in general, he'd quirk a brow with a small smirk forming on his lips, realizing what you were doing. He'd let you continue anyway because lowkey he likes seeing you take care of him. He'll let you move or guide him around to help him get comfortable or clean up any scratches on his skin.

He'll murmur how much he loves you and thanks you as you do so. Sometimes you didn't need to verbalize your 'i love you's' because from the small actions he's received from you, he already knew.

Once you helped him wash and dry up, you both would be snuggled into your shared bed. Although he would never give up his role as the big spoon, one of his favorite positions is being intertwined with you. Your legs knitted together and holding you so close that he's practically melting into your warmth and love.

[eepwriting]

eeee i love ur writing!! can you write a vess x reader with reader riding him when hes tired? 🥺👉👈

- funera1pyre 💝

Let Me Do The Work ✶ Vessel x GN! Reader

Warnings: nsfw, smut, intercourse

Hiiii anon thank you so much for your request 🤍 hope you enjoy :)

!! mdni !!

✧༝┉˚ MASTERLIST ˚┉༝✧

Join my 🏷️ taglist here ♡

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚

You shut the door behind you as quietly as you could. The house dark and quiet, the only noise being the few cars that passed down the street. You kick your shoes off and set your belongings down. Quietly making your way over to your bedroom, you peek your head inside. Vessel lay asleep on the mattress, his face and chest illuminated by the moonlight that floods in through the curtains. The comforter pushed down to his hips, one arm resting on his chest, the other thrown above his head against the pillows.

You oh so badly want to just crawl under the covers, cuddle up to him and sleep yourself, but you can’t stop thinking about the hot shower that was waiting for you. You took a final look at how peaceful Vessel looked as he slept before stepping away, making your way to the bathroom.

You hated working late. You had grown accustomed to nights by yourself when Vessel was away but when he was home, you wanted every second with him that you could get. You both hated to think of each other going to bed alone.

The hot shower felt amazing after the long day you had. The dirt, grime, stress and worry all being washed away. You got out after a short while. Washing your face and brushing your teeth before throwing on a loose t shirt and shorts.

You tiptoe through the house, into your bedroom, pausing at your bedside table to plug your phone in. You look over to see Vessel lying on his side, eyes lazily watching you.

“Oh, sorry, love. Did I wake you?” Your voice slightly above a whisper. He shakes his head, lifting up the comforter and sheet, inviting you in.

You eagerly slip under the covers, reaching out for him, arm around his back, pulling yourself to him. He wraps his arm around you and grabs your leg, hitching it over his hip, his head resting above yours. He hums when you press a kiss to his throat, his hand rubbing circles on your back.

“I was trying to wait up for you. Guess I fell asleep.” He mumbles. His voice still groggy. You hum, hugging him tighter.

The two of you lay that way for a while, Vessel falling in and out of sleep.

You try to pull away from him, wanting to flip to your other side when he grabs your hip, keeping you tight against him. He lets out a groan when your hips meet again, his grinding into yours slightly. You take notice of the bulge pressed up against your inner thigh and laugh lightly. You feel Vessel’s hand slide up your back and into your hair, pulling slightly so you’re looking up at him.

He presses his mouth to yours in a lazy but breathy kiss. He groans into your mouth, hips still grinding into yours. You feel his hand slip to your front and in between your legs, working over you slowly. You can tell he’s still tired, hand and mouth pausing occasionally as if he doesn’t realize what he’s doing. Until his neediness catches up to him and he’s moving his hand and fingers over you faster.

You softly moan when he licks into your mouth and tries to roll you on your back. You push on his chest lightly and pull away from him. “No, baby. Let me do the work. You’re tired.”

He just lets out a tired hum and lets you push him onto his back. You roll over him, straddling his hips before grabbing the sides of his face and attaching your lips to his again. His hands rest on your hips, weakly guiding them back and forth. He lets out a whine when you move to kiss along his neck, your hand reaching down to toy with the waistband of his boxers.

You pull away to sit up, Vessel looking up at you with heavy lidded eyes. You roll off him to remove your bottom layers before quickly resuming your position. Scooting lower on his lap, you rise to your knees to tug his boxers down his hips and thighs. He hisses when his cock springs free, goosebumps rising on his stomach and chest.

You scoot up again, hand grabbing at his base before bowing your head, a string of spit leaving your mouth and dropping onto the head of his cock. You slide your hand up quickly to collect the saliva, dragging it down, your hand twisting slowly. You hear him take in a breath, his hips bucking up into your hand.

He’s looking at you with a dazed expression, his hands pushing against the back of your hips, pulling you towards him. His neck stretches up to kiss you, whiny moans leaving his mouth when your lips meet.

Hand still working over him, you position his cock to push against your opening. You tease yourself with his tip, enjoying the way Vessel’s brows furrow, his hips impatiently bucking.

You give in and slowly sink down, stopping when you’re sitting flush to him. You watch him, circling your hips. His eyes closed, mouth hung open slightly, his fingers flexing over your thighs.

A moan leaves your own mouth when you lift your hips up and sink down on him again. You place your hands on his chest to stabilize yourself. Having good leverage to lean forward over him, hips still rising and lowering, quiet mewls from you every time you ease down on him. You watch his face under you, blissed out. Still clearly dazed and lethargic. He opens his eyes to look up at you, a groan leaving him when he sees you watching. He reaches a hand up to rest on the base of your neck, his thumb moving back and forth over your throat.

You feel his other hand press down on your hips, keeping you down on him. You take the opportunity to circle your hips again, his cock nudging and prodding all the right spots inside you. He pulls your face down to his, your mouths connecting in a deep, slow kiss. Quiet, breathy whines slip from him when your hips start lifting off him again.

His fingertips dig into your thighs, his hips bucking up to yours in a frantic rhythm. You bounce on him, faster now, your nails lightly scratching down his chest and stomach.

You can tell his release is right up on him, his eyes shut tightly, bottom lip between his teeth, heavy breaths and groans slipping through. The look and sounds of him paired with the way his cock reaches so deep in you, hitting that sweet spot over and over, send you falling over the edge. You shudder and clench around him, your hips grind over his as moans freely flow from your mouth.

He grunts under you, both hands gripping your hips, his jaw tight, eyes shut. You feel his warmth spread through you, shockwaves run down your back when he keeps your hips moving on him. You let out a whimper when he stills, hunching over him to rest your forehead on his chest, his heavy hand smoothing over your head. You slowly roll off him, letting out a heavy breath when your back hits the mattress. You stare up at the ceiling, catching your breath and reach over to lay your hand on Vessel’s chest, his heart beating fast under your palm.

He hums, placing his hand over yours and giving it a small squeeze. You roll to face him. His eyes are closed, his head lolling to the side before he twitches, opening his eyes again. He rolls to match your position and looks at you with a lazy smile on his face. He reaches for you and you scoot closer to him, your head tucking in under his chin. His arm wraps around your waist, his breaths slowing and deepening, slipping back to sleep almost instantly.

Although you hated the thought of him waiting up for you, you’re glad he chose to tonight.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚

This ending suckssss I’m sorry.

Thank you for this request anon!! Was fun to write 🤍 Plus, got some Vessy in for a change.

K. Bye bye.

[shookuna]

// HEATWAVE! // T FUSHIGURO

a/n: first post on tha new blog !!! eeee !!! this is dedicated to the lovely mickey @teddybeartoji <3 ty for being my FIRST OFFICIAL MOOT ! MY DAYONE ! take a lil soft!toji fic pls and thank u 🤲

wc: ~ 1k oops

summary: tired grumpy bf!toji is needy and annoying w/o cuddles. cw: nsf(w) ment, plus some tooth-rotting fluff <3

cuddling with toji was becoming a rare occurrence.

it was mid-july and swelteringly hot outside, even in the wee hours of the night. the a/c in your shared apartment was threatening to give out, and the shitty fan toji sloppily assembled did little to improve matters. so, deviating from your usual routine, you and toji fell asleep on opposite sides of the bed.

toji noticed the distance immediately, cracking one eye open to find you not curled into his side, like usual. the sight of you dead to the world, hair messily splayed across the pillow was enough to make his heart flutter. but even still, a frown tugged at the corner of his lips.

because goddammit, you did not get him used to this "cuddling" shit just to bail on him now.

you and toji met months ago at the dawn of fall, when the days were getting shorter and the nights were growing colder. your relationship was initially a fateful coincidence, a grocery store meet-cute that was as romantic as it was awkward. his series of brazen pick-up lines went right over your head (surely, you assumed, no one would tell you how good you'd look receiving backshots in the fucking frozen food aisle) but you still ended up giving toji your number that day.

and he's never been a religious man, but he was praising every god in the damn sky that you did.

one date was all it took for both of you to be locked in. he was a bad habit, an itch you couldn't help but scratch, irresistible. he was reckless, cocky at best and an asshole at worst, everything you weren't. needless to say, dating toji was against your better judgment. but for him, being with you was the first good decision he's made in a long time.

that's not to say things were perfect, or even easy. being with someone like you was so unfamiliar for someone like toji. loving you came as easy as breathing, but choosing you, choosing to work towards being a better version of himself... that was hard as shit. even small things took time, like physical intimacy. his body count was through the roof, so he had no issue when it came to having sex with you - but affection was a whole different story. it made him feel like he was in someone else's skin, someone weaker, someone who needed to be taken care of. it took til' mid-december, when the temperatures were practically sub-zero and frost crusted the ground, to get toji to warm up (no pun intended) to cuddling.

and now you'd gone and gotten him attached to this shit just to leave him high and dry?!

it didn't matter that your boyfriend was practically a walking furnace, heat radiating off of him in waves when he caged you in his strong arms. temperature be damned, toji thought, you started this, so you had to finish it.

"wake up." his gruff voice sounded out, a stark departure from the blanket of silence the night offered. when you only stirred slightly, he gave you a little shake. "oi, get y'r ass up. i'm talkin t' you."

at that firmer command, you rose your head, a displeased frown taking the place of your previous serene expression. "fushiguro, what in the ever-loving fuck are you doing waking me up at..." you paused, fumbling for your phone on the nightstand and checking the time. "...at three in the damn morning."

"don't gimme that shit. girl bye," toji grumbled, not sparing you so much as an apology for disturbing your sleep. you simply gave him a deadpan stare, making him scoff and roll over to his other side. "'s fine, not like i needed to hold ya to fall asleep anyway." he muttered bitterly into the pillow.

your eyes were already halfway closed when he turned around, but they immediately shot open when you heard his grumblings.

"what did you say? you need to cuddle me to fall asleep?" you perk up, pressing your hands on his shoulders to coax him into turning back around.

"i sure as hell didn't say 'cuddle'," he groused, but still turned around anyways. his voice might have sounded annoyed, but you knew your toji. the flicker of warmth in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

"heh, you said it just now, dummy." you grinned as you snuggled up to toji's chest, earning a flick to your forehead from the man in question. but you were unbothered, simply humming, "thought ya didn't like cuddling."

"y'r makin' assumptions," toji grumbled, the low, gravelly timbre of his voice sending shivers down your spine. "now quiet down so i can sleep."

at that, you scoffed in playful offense. "so you can sleep? you literally just woke me u-" you started, but he silenced effortlessly by pressing his lips against yours in a lazy, heated kiss.

when he pulled away, chest heaving with each hot puff of air, you were warm from way more than just the heat outside.

"go the fuck to sleep before i put you to sleep myself." he growled out, but there was no malice in his words - more of an invitation than a threat.

deciding to resist temptation this time, you settled back into his hold, your back flush against his chest. as you began to fade back into sleep, you heard toji whisper out, "meant what i said, y'know that? can't... can't sleep w' out you now."

the next words out of your mouth were simple, but they were all it took to put him at ease.

"i know, toji."

dawww <33 hope u like this fic everyone (esp mickey mwah mwah mwah) reblogs + comments appreciated !!

© shookuna ! toji header edited by me too tehe

[pianostarinwonderland]

Skully's Inspirations

sorry guys my brain's latched onto this event and now i can't stop writing my thoughts hhrhhrhjkhhrhkjrhkjthr

tbh im writing this to the tweets i've seen saying that skully isn't that similar to jack because at first i was like nodding along, like yea in the event, jack and skully have views that are clashing, which makes skully go mad. but then i watched nightmare before christmas AND IM CRYING Y'ALL. I KINDA SEE THE POINT OF SOME TWEETS, ESP WHEN THEY WERE ONLY WHEN EP2 WAS OUT. BUT EVEN THEN. I WOULD LIKE TO PLACE DOWN THE ARGUMENT THAT SKULLY IS TWISTED FROM JACK SKELLINGTON THE SIMILARITIES ARE T H E R E E EE EEEE

But here's the fun part about Skully. The past Halloween boys, Rollo and Fellow+Gidel, are written in such a way that most of their basis comes from their respective villains. Yes, they have some qualities of their heroes (i.e. Rollo is the one who diligently cares for the bell tower, which is Quasimodo's role), but the fact that they're twisted from one character is pretty clear.

Skully, however, is different. The way he's written is pretty similar to the NRC cast, in that he has a mix of different inspirations. While he's clearly twisted from Jack Skellington, he has a mix of the other characters, particularly our heroes and villains, and I'll discuss them in the post below.

On Jack Skellington: It's important to distinguish that for this part, I am referring to Skellington in the movie, not in the event story. And that's the Jack that Skully is very much twisted from.

For one, they are lonely and misunderstood. Jack's loneliness is different from Skully's in that he is well-loved for being the Pumpkin King. But that's the thing, it's because people love what he does that Jack can't confide in anybody that he's tired of it. And that isolates him, as we see in the way he sings alone (or so he thought) in the hill about his problems. Skully, meanwhile, seems to be alone in all senses of the word—his schoolmates don't understand him, and based on the fact that he's grown up spending Halloween alone, he may also be lonely in his hometown.

Skully's being misunderstood is pretty obvious: everyone doesn't understand or agree with his way of celebrating Halloween. But Jack too was misunderstood, particularly when he was sharing with the townspeople about Christmas. When he was trying to convey the joys of Christmas, people asked about how scary it was. And when Jack tried to dissuade the idea of fear, they didn't understand it, and some started to exclaim their disappointment. So Skully had to convey Christmas in the way that they all understood it, even if it wasn't what the holiday is actually about, which frustrated him. Hell, that exact scene mirrors the scene where Skully shared his proposal for Halloween, and the NRC students objected to it. Both characters were passionate about a particular holiday and wanted to share it with others, but were met with misunderstandings. Their methods at convincing the crowd are different, however. Jack appealed to their biases, while Skully disagreed with them.

Both of them persisted in celebrating a holiday to the point of taking over. Skully pushes to celebrate Halloween his way instead of the more festive manner that NRC presented to the point of putting Jack to sleep and is now in the process of taking over the celebrations. Jack Skellington meanwhile persisted in celebrating Christmas to the point of taking it over and kidnapping Santa Claus.

Skully and Jack tend to have an everything is fine attitude in front of others. They'll smile and go with what is happening, but then they'll sigh when they feel that they can. Skully is just more open about his real feelings than Jack is. And on a flipside, Skully has a bit more support from the NRC cast than Jack had in the movie.

On Sally: Funnily enough, Skully has some basis on Sally's character, particularly about stopping Jack from celebrating Christmas. Given that the NRC Halloween is very festive, it can be seen as the 'Christmas' in this story which Skully wants to stop Jack from doing. Aside from that, there's also a lot of notable things.

His putting Jack to sleep is also something that both movie and event Sally do to Dr. Finklestein to prevent him from interfering.

In some way, Skully also has Sally's stubbornness, though taken to a higher extreme. Sally is very firm on her beliefs and would argue with Dr. Finklestein, which causes tensions with the two of them, and she doesn't really leave room for compromise. Skully is also very firm about his ideals and beliefs, and as for now, he doesn't compromise. Both of them also act on their beliefs when they feel strongly about it.

It is well worth noting that Sally has stitches. Skully, whose outfit represents Jack's, has stitches where Jack does not. One could take it too as Skully having to stitch an outfit to resemble his idol. However, it may be a hint to Skully's development in the next two episodes. Sally stitches herself up in the movie when she is broken into parts. Skully may have an emotional representation of this.

a bit unrelated but at this moment in time, i realize that the OB phantoms have stitches on them, and idk what those implications are but twst im scared

I'll call it right now: I think Skully's backstory will be inspired by Sally's and Oogie's (to be discussed in the next part). Skully would have a parent or guardian that is like Dr. Finkelstein to Sally: someone who keeps him under control and would lock him in his room if he misbehaves. Possibly Skully would have a stubbornness that lets him figure out how to leave, if that is the case. A Finkelstein inspiration might actually work though

On Oogie: I give credit to Chrome for making arguments on their thread for Skully being twisted from Oogie. Much of the basis for Skully being twisted from Oogie is his stitches and his taking over Halloweentown in the side games! Furthermore, Skully is employing the help of Lock, Shock, and Barrel, who have mentioned 'the boss' in Episode 3. So there's a nonzero chance of Oogie showing up later on and possibly helping out Skully in some way. Even if he never shows up, though, Skully does play the role of Oogie in the event.

Like Sally, Oogie is also stitched up, except he's an entire bag full of bugs. In the movie, he is defeated by unraveling his stitches completely. The unraveling to reveal his backstory is probably going to be used for Skully's writing in the next parts (at least, I hope so).

In the side games, Oogie and Jack have a rivalry, and Oogie tries to take over Halloweentown in them. In one game, he also tries taking over the 7 Holidays as well, where he's almost successful, but Jack stops him. Skully's taking over the celebration of Halloween in Halloweentown is at least a little more aligned with Oogie since it's at least the same holiday.

Can't go through this part without bringing up their loneliness. Oogie is isolated from Halloween town and is even locked in the basement. It seems to be the inspiration for Skully celebrating Halloween alone and in a dark room.

Onto the Oogie side of Skully's backstory, I'm thinking that there may be someone in Skully's family or community whom everyone favored, akin to how Jack Skellngton was favored as the Pumpkin King when Oogie's own holiday didn't work out. Maybe they favored that other kid for his magic? Either way, this part is written in consideration of Leona and Jamil being the SSRs for this event, where both of them have suffered from having to deal with someone else being favored (Leona) and/or not being able to show off what you can do because of it (Jamil).

This is more brain worms on my part, but I wonder if Oogie's having torture weapons and bringing Sally and Santa very close to their deaths where they become his soup to eat is where Skully's reflection on death during Halloween comes from. Of course, this reflection is also something traditional, so it could be coincidence.

On Vincent Malloy (from Tim Burton's Vincent): So this is a very interesting suggestion for Skully's inspiration that came up when the event was still at Episode 2. I highly recommend checking out myonmyon's thread for this, and if you have the time, to watch Vincent (it's only 6 minutes long, so it's really not a long watch). It's important to note here too that in the DVD for Nightmare Before Christmas, Vincent was a part of that DVD.

Vincent Malloy has a strong admiration for the horror actor, Vincent Price, and it's so strong that he thinks that he himself is Price and not Malloy. His mother—and everyone else around him—doesn't understand this and urges him to play outside. The film is centered around his delusions of being Vincent Price, from dipping his aunt in wax to his beautiful wife being buried alive, and the lines between reality and fantasy end up blurring.

The way Vincent could not distinguish fantasy and reality is somehow similar to Skully, who struggles to accept that Jack Skellington isn't the idol he admired and isn't the guy who understands his ideas of Halloween.

This part may add to the theory that Skully established the first modern Halloween: Vincent Malloy is a character that let Burton represent himself on screen. Vincent the film is a benchmark in his career, as it was where he learned to combine 2D and 3D art styles, which he ends up using for Nightmare Before Christmas. And this led him to success, led him to share his vision to everyone in the world. Hence, Skully's story could be similar in that he gets to share his vision of Halloween one day, and possibly establish the first modern Halloween.

As a final note, Skully’s name is really interesting because it’s pretty clear it’s based on Skelli-ngton, but Skully and Sally both rhyme and end very similarly in their JP names (スカリー and サリー) (you can also say their EN names rhyme but Skully is still technically not official romanization). And crediting a friend for pointing this out, Skully (スカリー) also rhymes with Oogie (ウギ―ブギー), and we know how much Nightmare Before Christmas heavily uses rhymes.

[sdr2lovemail]

Can you do a Sanemi x F reader where the reader gets hurt badly on a mission and passes out Infront of the butterfly estate and Sanemi encounters them on his way out from the butterfly mansion to a Mission. I think Sanemi would be angry and worried at first but slowly calm down once they get better. Happy ending? Anyways thank you if you do happen to do this!! <3

Emotional scars (GN Reader)

Synopsis: Finding you wounded and unconscious in front of the butterfly mansion, Sanemi blows up at you.

Note: Eeee, I gotta practice the comfort part of hurt/comfort. It's more of a bittersweet ending than a happy one. Pronouns or gendered terms don't come up in this.

Requests are open!

Using your sword as a makeshift crutch, you hobble through the forest. Not bothering to wait for the kakushi to arrive, you were sure you could make it to the butterfly mansion. The mission was grueling. It seemed that the demon had never-ending stamina. It even managed to get a good slash on your side. You tied your haori to try and staunch the wound. Though, there was still the feeling of the warm, sticky blood dripping down.

Breaking through the woods, the gates of the butterfly mansion are in view. With dizzy, uncoordinated steps, you get closer to getting some rest. Your head felt foggy. You weren’t sure which way you were walking anymore. 

When did you collapse? Your cheek is against the cool stones of the courtyard. It felt strangely comfortable. You’ll rest your eyes, only for a moment. Your body goes limp as you drift off into unconsciousness.

Inside the butterfly mansion, a stubborn wind hashira stomps along. “For the last time, Kocho, I’m not spending the night here. I’m fine.” 

“You have three broken ribs, Shinazugawa. I wouldn’t call that fine. You should stay here through the night and let us look after you.” Shinobu followed Sanemi, her usual smile gracing her lips. “We wouldn’t want your injury to get any worse.”

He stopped before the door and turned to face her; he could feel himself getting stressed. Tired after an extended mission, he wished to go home and sleep, not stick around Shinobu’s estate. “I’m not some low-ranking slayer. It’s not like I’ll curl up and die because of some broken ribs. I’m leaving.”

As Sanemi opened the door and walked into the courtyard, he realized he almost stepped on something. With his brain foggy with sleep, and the dark blanket of the night, it took him a moment to see what it was. His eyes widened. “What the hell?!”

Your head ached when you came to. The wooden ceiling of the butterfly mansion greets you. Slowly, sitting up and looking around the room; no one was occupying the other beds. Your body burned and ached at the slightest movement.  For a moment, you thought you were completely alone. That was until you could hear a familiar snore.

Resting on a chair next to the bed was Sanemi. He had his head resting on his arms against the bed. Contrasting his permanent scowl when he was awake, he looked so peaceful. The crease in his brow was gone, and his shoulders were relaxed. It was nice to see him like this. 

Gently, you set a hand atop his unruly hair. His eyes shot open the second your palm met his scalp. Wide, bloodshot eyes flicked up to meet yours. Sanemi practically leapt out of the chair. It was silent; the only noise was birds chirping outside. His expression was unreadable as his stare bore into you.

With a weak smile, you break the deafening silence. “Nemi, I’m so happy to see you.” Your voice was a strained whisper. Your throat itched and burned as you talked. “I was planning to visit you after my mission, and well…”. 

A cup of water was thrust in your direction, a scarred hand connected to it. “Drink.” Came the simple word of Sanemi’s rough yet gentle voice.

Taking the cup, you give him a grateful nod before gulping it down. The cool liquid helps soothe your aching throat. “Thank you.” He takes the cup and sets it on the nightstand. Sanemi shifts so his body can fully face you. 

“Quit the corps.” 

It was such a cold, blunt sentence. Any hint of warmth in Sanemi’s voice was gone. His face held no expression now. There’s a faint twitch in his hand.

“Huh, why are you saying that so suddenly?” You asked, confused by his demand. Once you started dating, Sanemi would ask if you had any plans for your future, if you ever wanted to do something besides hunting. But never had he been this forward about leaving the corps.

Sanemi’s face goes through a few different emotions before settling on anger. He takes a couple steps closer to the bed, a scowl on his face. “Didn’t you hear me?! I said quit! Quit the corps; quit being a demon slayer!” He growled, his eyes intense. His heart was beating so fast it felt like it would burst.

You felt shaken. Sanemi’s temper was never toward you. To see it happen now felt like a punch to the gut. Especially with your head throbbing in pain. “I should quit just because I got hurt? We’re slayers. It's practically a part of the job.” 

“Well, this job isn’t for you! You were lying half-dead on Kocho’s doorstep! Might as well quit while you still have your life!” Sanemi shouted. His voice filled with anger and something more pained.

Feeling annoyed and hurt, you yelled back. “I just woke up, and the first thing you wanna do is chastise me? You’ve come home hurt many times, Sanemi. I’ve never told you to quit!’

“This is different. I’m a hashira. I’ve faced demons ten times stronger than any pathetic thing you’ve managed to kill. You’re weak, and those who are weak die! It’s amazing you got passed final selection at all!”

The room suddenly fell silent. Sanemi’s heavy breathing was the only thing filling the air. His face was red with rage. He stares down at you, and you suddenly feel small. He wasn’t a hashira for no reason. Seeing him tower over you like this was intimidating.

After a long, tense moment of silence, Sanemi speaks once more. “Leave the fucking corps.” Those were the last words before he stomped out of the room, slamming the door on his way out. 

You didn’t see him around for days. Not once had he come around to apologize or even visit. Sanemi had purposely been avoiding coming by the butterfly mansion. He would have one of the kakushi treat him or just walk back to his estate after a mission. He felt terrible about how he treated you, but it was necessary. To protect you, he had to be cruel.

Though, as time passed, he just kept feeling worse. He had to yell at you so you would quit the corps. He had to treat you like he did with Genya. But did that even work? His brother still became a demon slayer, even going as far as eating demons. This aching feeling was gnawing at him. You were just as stupidly stubborn. You wouldn’t leave the corps just because he treated you like crap.

It had been a while since that argument had taken place. Your wounds were healing nicely, and you would be back to going on missions soon. Shinobu had stopped by for a check-up. She began to chat as she changed your bandages.

“You know, Shinaguzawa was about to burst a vein when he found you outside my estate.” She chuckled.

You huffed and rolled your eyes, still upset with your partner. “I’m sure he was.”

“He was yelling so loud. I was sure he would wake my other patients.”

The night Sanemi found you, he felt many things. While mostly anger, it was also grief and fear. He kneeled over your crumpled form, taking you in his arms. It was like there was a loud ringing in his ears. He could only feel warm blood soaking through your uniform, staining his own. 

Shinobu was only a few steps behind him and quickly took in the sight. She ushered him to bring you into the estate. It was hard to separate him from your body. He was holding on so tightly. At first, Shinobu let him stay in the room as she worked. But as he kept barking at her to hurry up, to make you stop hurting, she kicked him out of the room. He sat by that door for hours, not bothering to change out of his blood-soaked clothes. He rushed into the room as soon as Shinobu finished patching your wounds.

The insect hashira left, allowing Sanemi his privacy. He sat by your unconscious body, Holding your hand tight and feeling your weak pulse.

“Why, why are you trying to leave me too? Why does this always happen to me?!” Through his anger and grief, a few tears spilled from his wide eyes. He needed to protect you. One of the last people he had left. No matter what it took or what he had to do. Sanemi couldn’t keep losing the ones he loved.

You were out for days, having lost so much blood. Sanemi stayed by your side whenever he could, only ever leaving for missions or meetings.

“Hm, you're healing well. Your ribs only have slight bruising now, and your concussion is gone. Once you finish your rehabilitation training, I’ll discharge you.” Shinobu spoke with her usual light tone as she wrote a few notes down.

Buttoning your shirt back up, you give her a polite smile. “Thank you, Kocho. You’ll have to let me pay you back one day.” 

“Oh, no need! Healing is just what I do.” As she spoke, her eyes gained a mischievous glint. Her dainty form takes a seat on your bed. She leans in close with a smirk. “But if you're offering, how about you pay me back with some gossip?” 

You look at her with a bit of suspicion. “What kind of gossip?”

Shinobu chuckled a little, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Come on, don’t play dumb. That argument wasn’t exactly quiet. I’m sure I can help. I’m a great listener.”

You let out a disgruntled sigh, looking at the hashira next to you. “I mean, why ask if you already heard everything?” Shaking your head, you decide to feed Shinobu’s curiosity. “It's just, Sanemi got so mad at me. I finally wake up after days, and the first thing he does is berate me.” You rant. It felt good to be able to talk about this.

“Well, Shinaguzawa does have the emotional intelligence of a brick. That doesn’t excuse his actions, but it does explain them. So, do you plan on forgiving him?” Shinobu asked, wondering how you’d answer.

That question was harder to answer the longer you thought about it. You wanted to forgive Sanemi, but what he said was hurtful. Even if he wanted to protect you, could you forgive him for saying those things? 

“I don’t know. Part of me wants to, but I still feel so hurt.” A pang of sadness shot through your chest. 

Shinobu looks at you with a look of sympathy. Setting a gentle hand on your shoulder, she stands up. “I’m sure he’ll come around eventually. Even if he won’t admit it, he’s pretty soft towards you.” She chuckled.

A few days passed, and you had fully recovered. Tonight would be your last night in the butterfly mansion. Packing your things, the door to your room slides open. Turning around, Sanemi stood in the doorframe. In his scarred hands was a parcel wrapped with twine. He looked as if he were nervous.

And truthfully, he was. He could fight waves of demons and not break a sweat. But emotions were a whole other ballpark for him. There’s a long, awkward silence as he stands there. He clears his throat a bit before speaking. “Can I come in?” 

You reply with a silent nod. Sanemi moved to take a seat on the bed. You sit next to him, though a bit far away. For a moment, it’s like he hesitates before offering you the parcel. “This is for you.” He said quite bluntly. “I know it looks like shit. You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to.”

Taking the parcel and unwrapping it, it was filled with food. Fried meat and vegetables topped over a bed of rice. On the side, there was also a few ohagi. The knife cuts were sloppy, and the ohagi was misshapen. The food was clearly homemade. 

Before you could say anything, not even a thank you, Sanemi began to speak again. ‘I want to…apologize. I know crappy lunch and words won’t fix anything I said. Seeing you hurt made me lose my shit, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” 

“Sanemi, I-”

“Let me finish.” He almost snapped but looked apologetic afterward. “I need to work on my emotions rather than resorting to anger. It’s immature of me. But seeing you on the ground, looking like a corpse,” Sanemi stopped talking for a second, trying to bite back the rage bubbling up. “I want you to have a good life. No bleeding out, no fighting, no demons. But, being a slayer is your life. I can’t just tell you to drop everything you know because I don’t like it.”  

His tone gets more tense, almost pained. “I want to work things out, and I hope you can forgive me.”

Standing up, you move to stand in front of Sanemi. You wordlessly wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his neck. The hashira was expecting a slap, any kind of negative reaction. To feel your arms hold him felt like a breath of fresh air.

“I still feel upset with you. And we’ll need to talk about that.” You curl up further into his arms, into his warmth. “But for now, I just want you to hold me.” You had been so lonely during the weeks he avoided you. Even if you were upset, you still loved him.

Sanemi quickly obliges.  Wrapping his strong, scarred arms around you. Feeling your soothing heartbeat, feeling that you were alive. Though he was still tense, a wave of relief washed over him. It was okay if you didn’t forgive him now, or maybe ever. At the moment, all that mattered to him was that you were alive.

The two of you would have a long talk. But for now, it was nice to sit in each other presence.

[kittyball23]

Any chance of a quick fic of Branch's bros showing and telling Poppy Branch's embarrassing baby photos all while he's a embarrassed grumpy pants about it? I feel we need more embarrassing loving big brothers moments.

Hi, Anon, I apologize for this being delayed. I wrote out a few drafts to this story, but was unsatisfied with the turnout until now. I do hope you enjoy :)

Show and Tell (a Trolls fanfic)

By the time that Branch had gotten his drink at the bar - a concoction his older brother called the Tropical Refresh, composed of a variety of fresh, fruity juices  - and walked over to the backstage area of the karaoke stage to find Poppy, he could already hear the bouts of giggling coming from his girlfriend. Branch had come across this type of situation a few times already, and he didn’t need to ask what had gotten her in such a lighthearted mood.

“Don’t you ever get tired of looking at that?” he asked, gesturing at the clue board that she was unashamedly ogling over.

“Nope!” Poppy chirped. “How can you ever get tired of looking at this cutie-patootie face, huh?” She reached into her pocket and showed him a little wallet-size photograph of him in his signature perm.

Branch gasped. “Hey! Who gave you that?”

“I did!” The blue Troll turned to find John Dory approaching them, looking quite proud of himself. “Don’t worry bro, I got copies for you, too!” he said, pulling out three more from his dark, aquamarine hair.

Branch groaned. “Seriously?”

“What do you mean ‘seriously’? What’s so embarrassing about a baby photo? You totally rocked the look!” JD asked, confused. Then he chuckled, nudging Branch with his elbow and speaking hushedly so Poppy couldn’t hear. “At least I didn’t show her the other box, right?”

But Poppy had heard him. She perked up and faced John Dory with curiosity. “What other box?”

JD beamed at her. “Ohoho, girl, if you like these photos, just wait till you see what I got in store for you.” Whistling Rhonda over, he entered his caterbus and pulled out a heavy-looking trunk. He struggled dragging it out for a moment, and then gave a short cry.

“Ouch! There goes my back,” he whined with a grimace, having strained himself too hard and rubbing the affected area. But the smile returned to his face a moment later. “Feast your eyes on le pièce de résistance, Poppy Seed!” he declared grandly, and then opened the trunk with a dramatic flair.

For a second light almost seemed to emit from the trunk, like it had been filled with glittering gold. When Poppy managed to focus in and see what it actually was, well, it was as good as gold to her.

“EEEE! Oh my GOSH!!” She grabbed Branch’s arm and leapt up and down with tears of joy while her boyfriend grumbled in dismay. “This is the best day of my life!”

“OOooo, really! Why’s that?” It had been Viva who’d spoken, neither one of them having heard her approaching with all the commotion Poppy was making. She noticed the trunk and grinned. “Is there a lifetime supply of candy in there? I know that would be the best day of my life!”

“Even better!” Poppy cried, stepping aside so her sister could see. Viva tucked her hands under her chin and gushed.

“Awwww…. That’s so sweet!”

Suddenly Poppy whirled on John Dory, grabbing him by the vest and shaking him hard. “John Dory! And just how long were you going to wait before you told me about this?!?!”

“You gotta ask to receive!” JD answered simply.

“Well, I guess,” Poppy grumbled, “Okay, but no more dillydallying, you have GOT to spill everything to me about these!”

But to her surprise, John Dory shook his head. “No can do, Miss Poppy…”

The Pop Queen’s jaw dropped. “WHAT?”

While also surprised to hear this answer come from his brother, Branch was actually relieved. “Oh, good.” The less embarrassment he had to endure in front of his girlfriend, the better!

But it seemed JD wasn’t done explaining. “...Not without the others to help,” he finished with a sly smile.

Now it was Branch’s turn to exclaim “What?”

And before he could stop him, John Dory had cupped his hands around his mouth and called out in the direction of the cantina. “YO, BRUCE! CLAY! FLOYD! GET YOUR BUTTS OVER HERE, PRONTO!”

A few seconds later, all three Trolls had hightailed their way over.

“What’s up John Dory?” Floyd asked.

“Why you sounding like there’s a big emergency or something?” Clay questioned with suspicion, knowing how JD had a tendency to overexaggerate matters.

“And why does Poppy look like she’s about to faint?” Bruce asked, pointing at the overwhelmed Pop Queen who was being held up by Viva and fanned.

John Dory presented the trunk to the three of them. “Does this answer your question?”

Three identical ear-to-ear smiles stretched across their faces.

“Awwww, that’s nice,” Clay cooed.

“Wow,” Floyd whispered, tears pooling in his eyes, “I really had thought these were all gone…”

“Well they’re not!” Bruce chuckled happily. “This is great!”

“You’re telling me,” Poppy mumbled, just about ready to collapse. “And speaking of telling me…” She gestured at the trunk meaningfully.

But Branch intervened, putting a hand up. “Now wait, wait a second, hold on. Must we do this?”

John Dory rubbed his chin. “Hmm. Alright, those who aren’t in favor, raise your hands,” he said, putting the decision up to vote.

As it turned out, Branch was the only one among the seven who followed through on that.

“‘Kay. Now, all in favor of sharing Branch’s totally brodacious and all-around awesome Bitty-B-baby photographs, put ‘em up!”

Six hands flew up into the air without hesitation.

Branch rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

“YAY!” Poppy cheered, clapping her hands with Viva and giving her boyfriend a great big hug in gratitude.

John Dory grinned as he reached into the trunk - full to the brim with Branch-centered memorabilia, cut-outs, magazine-clippings, and pictures - and pulled out the first item to share. Poppy squealed as he began to explain.

“Hehehe, this one” - he started, gesturing at a photograph of Baby Branch suspended on a glitter wire - “was when we were deciding how Branch was gonna make his first live appearance. We thought about having him lower down onto the stage from above, but, hehehe, he was kinda afraid of heights.”

“I was a baby, John Dory. Everything around me looked big! So… yeah,” Branch said in his defense, crossing his arms.

Bruce had a turn picking next, and gave a knowing “Ohhh,” when he saw what it was. ���Debut outfit idea that, of course, didn’t work because of, well… the obvious.” When he showed the photo, it was Baby Branch with his head barely peeking out of the top of a puffy blue vest, BroZone’s signature white slacks on his bottom and trailing behind him like a gown’s train.

“I wasn’t the same size as you all back then,” Branch said with a tone in his voice that exhibited a “duh!”

“Aw, but at least you’ll fit in it now, right, sweetie?” Poppy cooed lovingly to him.

He had to smirk at his girlfriend���s neverending optimism. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Clay laughed when he pulled out the next photograph. “Ohhh, man… Grandma’s birthday,” he said fondly. “Each of us had a hand in getting together her special Fluffleberry cake. Bruce and I made the batter. John Dory and Floyd took care of the baking. And Branch, hehehe… he helped decorate. Although, I think he might’ve ended up decorating himself more than the cake.” He turned the photo around so the others could see the little blue Troll baby covered from head to toe in colorful icing and sprinkles.

“It was my first time!” Branch wailed. “And believe me, I had icing in places I didn’t even know I had.” He shuddered to remember. “It was unpleasant.”

“Well, it’s a good thing we took you to the bath right after,” Floyd said with a little grin. The grin became wider when he pulled out the next photo. “Oh my, and speaking of baths… can’t forget your first shower, can we?”

Branch’s cheeks turned red from embarrassment when the baby photo depicted him pictured from behind, the soap bubbles barely hiding his birthday suit.

“Whoaho!” JD cracked up., “Now there’s something you don’t see everyday!”

“I guess you could say it happens only once in a blue moon, am I right?” Clay joked, Bruce laughing alongside him.

“OH!” Poppy squeaked in surprise, blushing, while Viva gasped and put a hand over her mouth.

“This just goes to showcase a whole new meaning to ‘junk in the trunk!’” Branch humphed with whatever dignity he had left, referring to John Dory’s trunk of memorabilia. Although, his older brother didn’t interpret the statement that way.

“I’ll say!” he hollered, stooping down to slap Branch in the rear.

“OUCH! JD!”

The goggled Troll giggled in response to his shout.

Branch huffed and plopped down to the ground, both as a way to ensure that John Dory wouldn’t do that again and as a way to make himself comfortable. Because - as the elder Troll took his turn sifting through the trunk for another good photograph and story attached to it, and his brothers eagerly awaited their next turns, and his girlfriend sat there nearly panting in anticipation - Branch realized that he would be there for quite some time.

Yep. A nice loooong time.

[waitmyturtles]

I am here to complain a bit about Jack & Joker (and apologies, because I'm going to make an inevitable comparison to Kidnap at the end of this post), so this post might be triggering for you (consider yourself warned, some of y'all don't read TWs!) But if you wanna hear some constructive criticism about director Tee Bundit's intriguing storytelling choices for this show, then come with me....

... because there's a lot about this show thematically that would usually sit right with me, namely its heavy focus on family.

Thanks to @veemark, we got a deep-dive into the wedding symbolism of last week's Lunar New Year celebration. I can feel that! Joke is clearly deeply touched to finally be a part of a family -- which is ever more meaningful, considering his brutal rejection by his own blood father in this week's episode.

And there are so, so many more family (and wedding) themes (in non-chronological order):

1) Tattoo's mom taking in both Tattoo and Hoy 2) Boss rejecting his own son, Arun, and adopting Jack (to then use Jack for his own financial gain) 3) The community that Ah Mah has built around her, from taking Joke in, to the little girls she hosts 4) Jack losing his parents and being raised by Ah Mah 5) Arun finding new family with Tattoo 6) Understanding how family ties runs the criminal underground of Bangkok 7) All of the ring symbolism, from Jack getting his parents' ring back, to rings being used as power symbols for the aforementioned criminal underground -- a theme I LOVE, actually, because strength in numbers in society always means more power for those individuals, including for couples that get married (INCLUDING FOR COUPLES THAT WILL BE ABLE TO LEGALLY WED IN JANUARY IN THAILAND AND WILL BE ELIGIBLE FOR SPOUSAL PRIVILEGES, EEEE!)

So many family themes going on in this show. I love it! I love the indication that when Jack and Joke first met years ago, that there could have been a frisson of potential family between them, two guys meeting at a bar and connecting.

AND, I ALSO love the themes of family fucking each other over. Because families aren't perfect! Not by a long shot. Families can truly suck towards each other. Boss to Arun. Save (FUCKING SAVE, YOU DICK) to Jack. Joke's dad to Joke, all of his life. If we're talking potential family from back in the past, then of course -- Joke fucking over Jack, the issue that started this series.

What's not working for me in this series, though, is that somewhere along this trajectory, director Tee Bundit got too caught up in liberally sprinkling these otherwise excellent themes throughout the show (really, much to my joy, because I otherwise love these themes) without offering emotional build or context to our two main characters. There are other connectivity issues to this show, but this is my main gripe.

Now, I've had an up-and-down relaysh with Tee Bundit's work. I hated TharnType, I HATED Step By Step, I ADORED Lovely Writer, I LOVED I Feel You Linger In The Air. We're teetering on Step By Step-territory here in Jack & Joker by the way that Tee seems to be gunshy about giving romance -- which needs to be the cornerstone of an ostensible romance BL -- time to breathe and develop.

We have jumped from an inferred wedding banquet last week, to tired spousey-spousey dinners this week, with hubs ripping off his tie and apologizing to his househubs about not finishing his plate.

Not to say I need to see the boing! I don't need boing to contextualize romance. What I need to contextualize romance is to see these two falling in love, before their marriage got tired and problematic!

Like. I was watching these dinner scenes, and I'm... trying to parse what's happening at the table. Jack is getting screwed time and time again by poverty. It's brutal. Is Tee saying here that love is an impossibility in the context of poverty?

(I don't know that Jack says that about love, per se, in his monologue to Rose while they're with the village children, but he does talk about the inability of impoverished people to truly dream, so maybe that's the correlation?)

And then, because Jack must make his choice to serve Boss and earn money for his grandmother's treatment -- he has to let go of Joke. But.... they were never together anyway! Right?! (See @lurkingshan here for the wise comment on noble idiocy.)

I'm not bought into the closeness that I'm supposed to assume from Jack and Joke -- because we haven't been taken there yet. I haven't seen that closeness develop. I've seen Joke make it up to Jack for Joke's previous transgressions. But I haven't seen Jack respond to that emotionally, bodily, with heart, as a narrative would otherwise convey romance successfully in a script.

Unless this is an allegory meant to convey that poverty prevents people from falling in love. Is that the message? Because... dang, wtf. That's a hell of a message.

It's a brutal message, if that's the message, commenting on the assumed strength of the criminally powerful of Bangkok to squeeze out every last dream of those who are in lifelong debt to crime lords.

It's a very Tee Bundit message, honestly, as well. I can see him driving this show right towards this message that hopelessness is absolutely a reality for the thousands of impoverished Thais who will die in debt.

But this is a YinWar show -- and, unless we are going to be MASSIVELY SURPRISED, which I don't think we are, the car's gotta drive towards romance at some point. These guys aren't even together, and we're headed towards divorce court. We've missed some significant emotional beats along the way, and my eyebrows are furrowed as to how Tee Bundit will three-point-turn his way out of this traffic jam.

(What's my inevitable comparison to Kidnap? Kidnap is the other crime-y show of this autumn season, and its narrative has jumped all over the place. It's SO MESSY. AND, arguably, Min's and Q's romance has been driving at 90 mph since the start of the show. We've had MORE romance than plot, the opposite issue of J&J. But Min showed his true colors by 4/4 of episode 1. We knew the road we were driving on with our two mains! And there arguably hasn't been jumping of the romance narrative, although we got a pretty fast break-up in last week's episode. Kidnap is messy AF, but its intentions are clear. I'm not getting that clarity -- as cheesy as it's been in Kidnap -- in J&J.)

[poraphia]

Hey ml, we haven't talked in a while. Maybe some insecure! Reader x tired! Wilbur headcanons?? You can see I have a thing for deep voice, sleepy Wilbur.

Not necessarily angst, but him just wanting to go to bed, and waking up and feeling horrible for neglecting your feelings so he makes it up to you by kissing away your insecurities? You choose the insecurity.

Sorry if this was confusing 😔

"Sleepy Wilbur, Stressed Me."

➵ PAIRING! tired!wilbur x insecure!reader

➵ CREATING! 9.30.23 | 459 words

➵ CONTAINING! insecurities, body issues, immense fluff with kissing and cuddling.

➵ SAYING! eeee ax i havent seen you in my inbox since forever!! istg i loveeee sleepy wilbur its just UGHHH THIS MANNN

My masterlist :)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Coming home

Wilbur is certainly a busy man, we all know this.

But, today really wasn’t one of your best days either.

As soon as he arrives home, he threw off his Docs and his bag before passing out straight onto the bed

Instead of bothering him, you just decided to snuggle up next to him with tears all over your face and just the looming pain of feeling so horrible about yourself.

When Wil wakes up, he immediately noticed how distressed you look

Your hair is tangled, you’re whimpering in your sleep, and your eyes are puffy with tears

Immediately he’s hugging you close to his chest, stroking your hair and warming up your frail body

He doesn’t even think to wake you up and patiently waits for you to flutter your eyes open

Talking it out

When you wake up, your voice barely comes out because of how worn out you were from crying all night

He gently asks you with his croaky, deep morning voice what happened

In a burst of tears you’re venting every little thing about yourself that you feel isn’t good enough

Either too many pimples on your forehead, too much fat on your stomach, or feeling horrible for falling behind work

“But you’re so talented and hard working, my love. It’s okay to feel stressed out about it, but you’re doing your best and that’s what makes me proud of you..”

He whispered quietly and softly in your ear

After countless bits of reassurance, he would kiss every piece of your body you felt horrible about

Your forehead, your stomach— hell, you weren’t even insecure about your neck but he’s kissing it because he know it makes you giggle

“I love this part about you the most… No, this one… Mm.. I’m sorry, love, I can’t decide. I just love everything about you..”

He ended it off by pressing his nose against yours, pulling you close and closing his eyes, smiling

Spoiling You

After enough smiles and that sweet, sweet morning voice, Will gets out of bed to make you some breakfast

He didn’t let you put up an argument. That man was making you breakfast even if you did feel “fat”

Once he came back he gently kicked open the door singing your favorite song with your tray of food

Then as you were eating, he flicked on the TV so you guys can finally catch up on that show you’ve been meaning to finish

Though he had to go back to the studio in a couple of hours, he made sure to make those hours count

even if meant cuddling and laying in bed all day

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

a / n ~ this was super cute to write about esp since it was just headcanons so it just felt like a cute lil drabble hehe. notes are super duper appreciated! if you wanna be in my taglist or become a labeled anon, drop a message in my inbox!! i also have a siren fanfic in the works you should definitely check out hereee

[sunshinesteviee]

bestie, bestie i LOVE these prompts: "soft looks across a long table" and "innocent touches when they’re close" for friends to lovers with stevie?

eeee friends to lovers, my beloved <33333 i really like this one, so i hope y'all do too! gn!reader (i think!! lmk if i missed something); wc: 1k

-

Steve knows you better than anyone else. It’s to be expected when you’ve been best friends for over five years. And still, knowing that he really gets you, knows how you’re feeling just from looking at you, stirs up the butterflies in your stomach and makes your heart pound in your chest. And no, it doesn’t have anything to do with the crush on Steve you’ve been harboring. Probably. Maybe. 

You’re at the diner with all of your friends on a rare occasion that everyone is home and accounted for, sitting at the other end of the table from Steve as you talk to Nancy about how college is going for her. You can feel a pair of eyes on you as you talk to her, and you know it’s Steve. It’s always Steve. 

In a lull of your conversation, you turn to take a sip of your drink and find Steve’s eyes still on you. His elbow is on the table in front of him, chin propped up in his hand as he looks at you, an involuntary flush crawling up his neck as your eyes meet. Still, he tilts his head slightly and raises his eyebrows; a silent ask of ‘you okay?’

Because it’s Steve, you know exactly what he’s asking, and you nod, your lips tugging up at one side as you try to ignore your rapid heart beat. He knows work has been killing you lately and that you’d had a rough day, going so far as to suggest the two of you skip the dinner if you weren’t feeling up to it. Of course you couldn’t miss this time with your friends, but you appreciate he’d asked, and was now — albeit silently — checking in on you. 

Nodding, Steve returns your smile easily, brushing a stray hair out of his face as he keeps his eyes trained on you for a few more seconds. Dustin is quick to grab his attention, though, snapping Steve out of his near trance-like state. As his eyes flick away, it’s like you’re brought back down to earth as well, a familiar fluttering feeling kicking up in your chest. 

“What was that about?” Nancy asks from beside you, a knowing smirk on her lips as she glances across the table to Steve and then back to you. 

“What?” you ask, glancing back at Nancy, feeling the heat of embarrassment again, “Nothing.” She gives you a disbelieving look, and you immediately feel flustered, “Nothing! I swear.”

“Yeah, okay,” she snorts, lifting her own drink to her lips to take a sip before changing the subject — some story about her boss at her new internship — and you’re thankful she doesn’t pry any more. What would you even say? That you’re in love with your best friend even though you’re almost positive he doesn’t feel the same way?

—

An hour later, and all of the kids have been picked up, leaving just the older group behind. You’ve left your spot at the opposite end of the table now that there are less of you, opting to settle into the one next to Steve. Nancy shoots you another knowing look as she does the same next to Jonathan, curling into his side. Ignoring her look, you give Steve a smile as you scoot in a bit closer. 

“Hey, babe,” he says softly, leaning back in his seat and extending the arm closest to you over the back of your chair. 

You can feel the warmth radiating from him through the back of your shirt and you subconsciously lean into his touch. Your cheek presses into your shoulder as you gaze up at him, “Hi, Stevie.”

Steve leans in so he can speak to you quietly, the tips of his fingers brushing over your shoulder lightly, “You still doing okay?”

“Mhm,” you nod, inching your chair closer to Steve’s so you can rest your head against his shoulder instead, “‘M tired, but happy to see everyone.” 

“Yeah?” he asks, and though you can’t see his face, you can hear the smile in his voice as he says, “I’m glad.” His hand closes around your upper arm to pull you into his side, thumb nudging underneath the hem of your sleeve to rub gentle circles into your skin.

It’s hard to participate in the conversation that your friends are having with how tired you are, as well as the weight of Steve’s hand on your arm, so you settle for leaning into Steve’s grasp. Your eyes flutter closed, and it’s only a matter of minutes before you doze off, asleep on Steve’s shoulder. He doesn’t notice right away, though his gentle touch is part of what lulls you to sleep; only aware of your soft, even breaths when Robin points it out, wiggling her eyebrows at him. 

Sending Robin the best glare he can muster, Steve tilts down to glance at you, his cheek pressing against your hair. You are fast asleep, just like Robin said, eyelashes kissing your cheeks, lips parted slightly. He can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips as he watches you asleep against him for a moment. Forgetting all of his other friends sitting around the table, Steve’s hand leaves your shoulder as his fingers curl, knuckles brushing over the gentle slope of your cheek. His lips ghost over your temple as he murmurs, “Hey, you.” 

It takes a few seconds — and a few more gentle strokes against your cheek — before you’re blinking awake, voice laced with sleepiness and confusion as you blink up at Steve, “Hmm?” 

“Fell asleep in the diner, babe,” Steve explains, his voice still soft with adoration, “Want me to take you home?” 

“Mm…” you pause to yawn, pressing your face further into the crook of Steve’s neck as he gently cups the side of your head in his hand to keep you close, “Yeah, in a minute.” 

“Sure, babe,” he says, his own heart pounding in his chest so hard he’s surprised you haven’t said anything, “In a minute.” 

[immeasurablesaladagere]

Eeee, thank you for the Jason Todd headcanons!

Would you mind doing a drabble about him taking care of you? (baby/toddler regression please)

Also, are you taking anon tags?

Here you are! I've never written in this POV before, it was surprisingly flexible. I also don't know what anon tags are haha, never done asks before. Hope this is alright!

-----

“Need t’be small… That okay?” You mumble as you and Jason stagger into your shared apartment after a long night. It hadn’t gone as well as you would’ve hoped; one of the victims you saved almost certainly wasn’t going to make it even after being rushed off to the hospital, and the two of you were covered head to toe in blood, grime, and bruises.

Jason drops his helmet by his muddy boots. “Yeah, I’ve got you. How small we talkin’ kiddo?” He says the nickname with ease, and the blurry feeling in your head that’s desperate for cozy blankets and sleep grows stronger.

You shrug, rubbing at your tired eyes with the only clean part of you hand. “‘Dunno. Small.”

“Alright, I’ll get a bath running and we’ll get you cleaned up and ready for bed. Or do you want a shower?”

Normally you’d answer bath in a heartbeat, but baths took forever and you were sleepy now. All you wanted to do was stop feeling so icky so you could snuggle into bed with a paci and your blankie.

“Sh’wer…” You mumble, shedding your gear and stumbling after him to the bathroom.

Jason turns on the tap and sticks his hand under the water, waiting for it to warm up. “D’you need help?”

You think you can wash your body just fine, but you don’t think your arms are gonna work right to wash your hair, which felt the worst, so you nodded. “Jus’ a bit. Hair p’ease.” You say, stifling a yawn.

He smiles gently and grabs the removable shower head. “Sure thing. Hop in and then we’ll get you some pj’s and I’ll read you a story, how’s that sound?”

You clamber into the tub and the warm water washes over you. It feels nice on your muscles, which ache all over, and the heat makes your eyes droop.

“Don’t fall asleep on me just yet, c’mon,” Jason chuckles softly, “I know you’re tired.”

You both work in comfortable silence for a few minutes. You do your best to wash away any dirt you can see while Jason carefully massages shampoo and conditioner into your hair and rinses it out. Once you’re both satisfied, he helps you out of the tub into a soft towel and then into your favourite pairs of pyjamas.

“Which paci do you want, honey?” He asks, fishing through your box of little things in your closet.

You don’t respond. Your mind is pleasantly clouded with soft fuzz, your tongue feels heavy and your eyelids heavier. You make a little humming noise instead, hoping that will suffice.

“Alright, the yellow one it is.” Jason returns from the closet with your yellow paci, your blankie, and a book. You can’t read the title, but it doesn’t really matter. He holds the pacifier out to you and you take it in your mouth, flopping down into the comforter of your bed and snuggling in. Your blankie is tucked up under your chin and around you snugly, and the bed dips near your feet where Jason sits down and opens the book.

“You ever read James and the Giant Peach, kiddo?” He asks, not really to you. You’re already dozing off, lost to soft blankets and exhaustion. You hum, eyes slipping closed.

“Until he was four years old, James Henry Trotter had a happy life…”

[dr-spectre]

Man... I've been feeling SOOOOO tired recently. I'm currently in the process of moving and it's for sure some major labour work I tell ya. Moving places SUCKS!!!! You complete one thing and then suddenly 50 more things that need to completed pop up. WHY DO WE OWN SO MUCH STUFF?!?!?! WHERE DID ALL THESE BAGS, TOILETRIES, AND RANDOM KNICK KNACKS AND DOODADS COME FROM?!?!

AND! I'm having internet issues at my place so that's great too.

Im so eepy... I want this to be overrrrr... eeee...

[sunboki]

SEND MY LOVE — 양정인

PAIRING — Healer! Yang Jeongin x f. reader

🖇️ GENRE — royalty! au, angst, suggestive(no intercourse), bittersweet, coincidences, childhood best friends to lovers, enemies to lovers if you squint

WORD COUNT — 6.9k ☆ 34 minute read

⚠️ WARNINGS — making out, close to smut, implied fwb

AUG’S NOTES — another thank you for notifying me about an open spot in your collab rin(@hyunverse)!! i would never skip the chance to write for my boys, especially a royal collab eeee so exciting—i knew i could ramble on with this for forever, so i hope i supplied enough closure between yn and jeongin! also, i haven’t wrote for innie separately, so feedback is appreciated：）

PLAYLIST — ꒰ 🧺 ꒱

TAGLIST — @writerracha @princelingperfect @ggundeuri @orithyia-eriphyle @vumiixlyy @luvrhyune @hopeladybug @misitmoonlight @baldi-2 @baddecisionsworld @thetaytayray @midsoulz @hyunverse @realbangchan @hafsa-hoofsa-heefs @rachabreathing @nixtape-foryou @ameliesaysshoo @jisungsdaydreamer @https-skzology @day6andetcetera @linonyang @hgema @seoli-16 @bokk-minnie @foliea @amagumorii @nhyunn @ravyaryn @ink-spilled-stars @himarose @sherryblossom @shakalakaboomboo @r-arrh @siriusly1 @catwonwoo @suebinn @foxinnie8

💭 SYNOPSIS — Despite the twists and turns in Iredal Castle, the only world you lived in was a world with Jeongin in it. Once the Healer’s apprentice, now the Healer himself, Jeongin has always been right beside you; tending to you endlessly and in turn, becoming close friends. Perhaps more in the castle’s corners. Except the Royals disregard you, and when you ask Jeongin to run away together, he denies. In turn, you leave on your own and begin working at a pottery shop in the villages, sending him abundant letters. Eventually though he stops replying and you assume he’s simply forgot about you, until he walks into the shop.

“Jeongin..” you whispered, voice coming out in a pitiful croak as you reach forward—making out the shakiness of your hand through tired eyelids. There’s a heavy haze that overtakes what’s left of the broken mind you’ve been gifted, surprised your vision remains intact whilst being unused for such a lengthy amount of time. The world is always new for those who don’t open their eyes. You know this well.

“I’m right here.” A small patch of light sneaks through cracks in the window, illuminating the boy’s features beautifully. He smiled, eyes crinkling in the corners while gazing at you from a squat by your bedside in order to speak at eye-level. When Yang Jeongin smiles, he loses his eyes and his cheeks puff out a bit. You never seem to get tired of it.

Since the day you entered this world, it felt like you had been sent to bed. Always so sick, always too weak to support yourself. Oftentimes you would refer to it as a curse until reminded of Jeongin, transforming the bitter judgment in such a way it felt like fate. A certain obscuring fate you would never manage to hold in both hands, but for you, for now, that was okay. If you hadn’t been ill all the time, perhaps you would have never gotten the chance to grow close to him like this.

Your introduction to Jeongin was well out of the books, having only really gotten to know him and his kindness on a peculiar evening when you were laden with cold. Eleven at the time, your blaring fever having spiked dramatically leading to frantic ushering into the Apothecary. The Healer’s apprentice had been hasty to concoct a sort of coriander mixture in an attempt at lowering your temperature, to no avail. Yet when he rose from his squat beside you, you clutched his shirt with sweaty fingers—pleading with the stranger of a boy not to leave you alone to stifle that same, hollow feeling. As if you were stuck in a glass box, a massive clock displayed in front of you representing time in its never ending cycle. Except the key to the box was long forgotten, and you’d simply waste away there.

Tick.

Tick.

“Don't leave me, please.”

There he goes with that heart wrenching grin, your introduction to not only Yang Jeongin, but his mystifying characteristics as well — gazing at you like the earth might just break apart. It’s a mystery how one can look into his eyes without crying. Raw, unfiltered emotion that feels as if it penetrates every fiber of your soul, your being. He’s comforting, as if you’ve known him for years. Sympathy in the curve of his brows, Michelangelo's sculpture somehow alive. Breathing, thinking.

Becoming acquainted with him came relatively easy opposed to others, able to carry countless conversations of all and nothing. Spurring recollection to occasions you had sneakily slipped from your stead to visit him in extended hours of eve, where the sky had just barely dappled tawny, soon replaced with a midnight hue. He’d tell you of his days, you would tell him of yours, without realizing you grew up with him in the process. Because when you blinked, Jeongin had transformed into more than a coincidence.

“I have to collect more herbs for your head, otherwise your fever will worsen.” Despite being only eleven like yourself at the time, a brush of his hand on your forehead eased all the worries swarming, the achiness, the pain. Sleep you were coaxed to, waking up and craving his presence, his reassurance once more. That simple gesture, he did it again and again every time you would visit, which was more often than not for that of a sickly child.

When you turned fifteen and your first lover had broken up with you, crying out your heart’s contents in the castle’s botanical gardens. Jeongin had done the same then, gently caressing your head like you were a troubled child while you sobbed into his shirt. Letting your waves crash against his shore. High tide in the late of night, Jeongin welcomed the sound of the ocean.

At nineteen, only a year ago when he’d been your first kiss — a soft touch of your forehead that spoke more than could be said aloud. Something delicate, something irreplaceable. It had been prohibited for one of such high profile to be enacting any sort of association with that of the lower class, especially a kiss. Quite risky, don’t you think? Although the riskiness of it sent a childish plethora of giddiness throughout your body that you hadn’t experienced in years time due to the suffocating confinement of restrictions, dutifully enforced by the Castle. He spoke much without words.

Nonetheless, you were twenty years old now, and no matter seemed to claw you in such a way you wept about it or needed to be consoled because of. You didn’t desire that lingering touch anymore, you had grown. Or your ability to fend off illness developed from a seed into a sprout, but your relationship with Jeongin persisted as resilient as the stone pathway leading out to Iredal’s foliage-inhabited Pleasaunce, cracked and overgrown beyond belief however evermore frivolous and alive. When with Jeongin this was possible. Living in a dream before you had to wake up, that is.

Heavy mist of spring blossomed around the Kingdom, a prime occasion to bask in the sun's rays after a millennium of bitter winds. Basking you did, while accompanied by Jeongin of course. It might have been strange for two people of entirely opposing positions to be conversing and picking at daisies awakening from the long thistles of grass — nothing short of casual for the both of you.

“You spoke of your tutoring session earlier?” The Healer, sitting criss crossed across from you hummed, twining vine into pretty bracelets absentmindedly.

“Ah yes, I was informed on the Victorian Language of Flowers, the topic was of great interest.” He leaned forward, appearing immersed though already knowledgeable of the study. On and on you explained, telling him of fantastical bouquets conveying distinct messages and allowing him to appreciate the excitement sparkling beneath your irises, sporadic hand gestures emphasizing each word slipping off your enchantingly cherry lips he longed to feel against his. Essentially, he did bask in the spring’s sun, your sun. Providing him with all the light and warmth necessary albeit far out in a field. Oh to abandon responsibilities and live like this, with you. One can hope, though hoping is sour upon accepting it won’t occur. Still, he’ll hope.

As for your presumed “friendship”, behind closed doors the average witness would immediately assume you were enacting an affair from the stolen kisses and the recurring suggestive touch. To those in front of the door, you were simply good friends. Good friends with a.. lasting connection.

Daisie picking however met a refreshing end, the dark-haired boy accompanying you back towards the Castle’s nearest entryway before bidding you farewell. There was a fondness gracing his features, carefully tucking one of the countless daisies he had picked into your palm, tickling your palm with soft petals and carving a memento of a day you already wished back.

The following morning however was a daring occasion for “good friends.”

“Oh god..”

His neat white shirt adorned with classical ruffles disheveled along with jet black hair, chasing after your kiss whilst you cupped the sides of his face. Your legs wrapped around his midsection, supported by strong hands sinking into the plush skin on the back of your thighs. Jeongin’s lips bruised pink and puffy from where you had pulled the skin between your teeth, eliciting a sort of adorable whine in return. His descent traveled down to your jaw, stopping to mark a love bite right below the ear where he nipped the soft skin relentlessly until you knew you’d have to be dressed heavily in order to conceal the evidence — loving the dreamy sigh that sounded in response to his attention.

“You.. you locked the door?” You breathed shallowly, allowing him to carry you from the wall to the bed, fervently laying you down on the mattress. He nodded in a hurried manner, maneuvering you to straddle his hips — fox-like, chestnut eyes admiring every inch of you he’d seen innumerable times. He slowly traced the fabric of your gown, down, down, lower. Till your breath hitched and the situation truly inclined into dangerous territory, teetering on the brink of collapse. Each reaction, curl of your fingers, flush of your cheeks. Engraved in his memory for as long as his mind would remember.

“I missed this, ‘missed you my dear. Please let me make love to you..” Soft murmurs mumbled against bare skin recalled times you treasured the most thanks to nectarine sweet talk accompanied by the gentleness of his voice that sailed you away into a new universe. A new universe where you and Jeongin were the only ones existing, not hidden in his room disguised from prying eyes.

“No one is keeping you from doing so.” You giggled, leaning down for an equally sugary kiss. No person might have kept him from doing so, but your impending requested presence at dinner could end up guilty. A long forgotten factor if not noticeable already. Yet selection revealed quite mercilessly that all things come to an end, some quicker than others.

“Hey Jeongin, I need to speak to you concerning-WOAH. Woah.”

In strolls Royal Guard Han Jisung, standing stiffly in the doorway relative to a deer suffering amnesia. Loudly declaring that Jeongin did not in fact lock the door, and a person was surely capable of preventing your love session after all. This was humiliating. The intruder slapped a hand across his mouth, waving quickly towards the both of you whilst muttering a jumbled, “Apologies for interrupting!” Before sprinting away. Momentary silence ensued and slowly, you turned to face the man you had nearly slept with, threatening the burst of laughter creeping up your throat.

“Did we happen to scare him?” You take your turn covering your own mouth, doubling back on the bed from not only the situation, but Jeongin’s facial expression as well. So expressive, added to the list of bountiful charms you discover when with him. At this point you should know everything about him, and you do, partially. Apart from what he doesn’t allow you to know, which, defensively, you uncover on your own.

“Ruined the atmosphere more like it.” He scowled, obviously annoyed by the interruption of his love-making fantasy and bemused by your evident inability to feel even slightly vexed. He found it impossible to remain upset when you were around. A continuously repeated cycle of stealing what wasn’t his, what he wanted to be his, and getting his most precious of possessions ripped out of his fingertips. Jeongin was a beggar in that view. For you, he was a beggar.

Reminding, you tapped his nose, wearing the sly grin he’d once sported like a badge of honor, “You poor thing… someone is grumpy.” Earning a pouted reply despite happily anticipating the peck you planted on his cheek as an estranged form of compensation.

“I’m not.. ugh, I find it best to leave before he tells the whole Kingdom about us.” About us, he said. About your adoration, heavily harbored passion. About us, what you could be, what you were, what perception told of. Quizzical. Unaffected, he gives your hips a quick squeeze, allowing you to leave the bedroom first prior to exiting himself.

Low and behold stood the interruption, appearing far too pleased with his latest discovery while he tapped his foot- a bad habit of his- incessantly. The mere thought as to what Jisung’s business here entailed failed to materialize in his mind, a heavily disregarded prospect after being so violently thrashed from paradise, left to drift off at sea.

“Mayhaps..”

“Say nothing more.”

“I wasn’t going to mention your affairs! This concerns Y/n.” Han appeared feeble observing the younger perk at the reference to you, attentive to whatever he was saying once you were involved. He beckoned Jeongin to follow him, adding on to the suspicious layering of what exactly they would be discussing upon arriving on the far side of an open corridor, located on the left wing of the Castle — vastly distanced considering where you would currently be rushing to dine with fellow Royals. The space void of any lurking ears awaiting to hear something they could use to either upgrade their status or stake down someone else’s. Hierarchy in its boldest font and ever apparent in the depths of Iredal Castle.

“Have you taken notice?” There’s a crease in Jisung’s forehead relating to the question. Tentative, like a cat studying its unsuspecting prey residing on a fence post. If Jeongin were a cat, his fur would have bristled apprehensively.

“Taken notice of what, exactly?” A sort of nervous pique to his voice gave away the Healer’s compiling tension, prominently oblivious. Jisung cleared his throat, lowering his tone that ushered his counterpart closer.

“Have you perceived Y/n and the Royal Family-“ Before the Royal Guard managed to pronounce his finishing words, the black-haired ran a hand through his hair, boisterously indifferent.

“-Whatever the Royal Family fancies is not my business and not something I want any association with. You know this.”

“Yes yes I am aware but it would be favorable if you listened for a moment, please?” Jeongin nodded curtly.

“There’s a disconnect, Changbin and I keep seeing it. As if they don’t even acknowledge her. Aside from there being some disconnect since Y/n’s the King’s Goddaughter and all, it has significantly worsened.”

The latter’s brow furrowed, perturbed. He could picture it so realistically — your downcast face, how you would fiddle with your fingers thoughtfully. Fiddling the way he’d seen a multitude of times when you were younger. Your signature mechanism of aiming to ease the discomfort you felt in that moment. He hurt, knowing you hurt.

“..Has she said anything to you about this?” A quiet break in the stillness that had occupied its way between them earned a solemn shake of the head. Of course you hadn’t said anything. You’d keep it bottled up in your heart until the dam broke, and he’d be the one racing to scoop up the water. Always.

Alas, the fiddle of your fingers bared its ugly face, distracting yourself with the rough texture of the tablecloth’s fabric beneath you. Evening’s feast carried on like usual, just as Jeongin had predicted. Except you didn’t rush there, aware you would have in the case of your earlier affair going further prior to being interrupted. Time that could have been spent elsewhere ghosted by, including snide comments easily discarded by each person attending that added to the flavor of pig's blood jelly majestically advertised in the center of the long table. Family friend Madame Belmore tapped her fingernails repeatedly along a decorative wine glass, sparing an excessive margin to clear her throat. One’s next words could not have been dreaded more.

“Speak of yore, I happened to deduct intriguing insight on Your Highness’s God-Daughter Ms. Yn Ln. For I hadn’t been told of your association with erm.. Yun, Yin..-“Yang Jeongin.” You abruptly voice, audibly calm opposed to the exasperation settling itself in your stomach at a bewildering rate. The woman had always inhibited her suspicions just as everyone did. Unlike everyone though, her suspicions were her prowess, her sickening joy.

“Yes! Yang Jeongin, the Healer. About him, I couldn’t help but ponder your… how do I put this, relationship.” Each piece of Madame Belmore’s puzzle fell into perfect place — mirroring the exact moves you had been taught playing Chess. The sight utterly chilling, watching her ferocious glinting sneer scream “Checkmate” right in your face, breath hot with the overwhelming scent of overly sweetened wine.

She thrust her hands forward, clasping them oh so tightly as if she were praying. Praying for something you couldn’t guess, but most likely your demise on first thought.

“You see, to an uneducated eye it may seem unusual I suppose. Reassuringly we are nothing apart from saved and savior. Were you not disclosed of my childhood illness, Madame Belmore?” Narrowly escaping to an empty square on the Chess board, you tip your head to the side, openly inviting the woman to interject. No, she wouldn’t. Madame Belmore wouldn’t dare to allow her sacred suspicions to deliberately falter.

“Oh allow me!” The Queen dramatically gasping her anguish spurred the dissipation of Madame Belmore’s pretentious glare, beginning to enlighten the “uneducated” on your tragedies. Rising aversion to the instigator wasn't much disliked though, comparing the belittling to ignoring. Ignoring in terms of absolute abandonment of your being, not a glance in your direction for a reason you didn’t know. What you did know was the behavior began becoming increasingly prevalent, and that this exact banquet would become an entire accusation pinwheel after the introduction of your saved and savior relationship was provided so diligently to Madame Belmore by the Queen. “Best to flee.” Jeongin had told you that once, after he had snatched a casserole you’d asked about off the Baker's tray. Young then, without thought of genuinely meaning you would run away. Without a need to run away, apart from fleeing from small mishaps.

“And you are not attending dinner, why?”

You’d leave it to the imagination to assume you deserted the feast or caused a scene, storming into no other than Jeongin’s Apothecary before the feast had officially concluded. Escape. The Apothecary was a momentary escape, upon investigation by officials though the forbidden cove would be revealed, unraveling something disgustingly disastrous.

At this time in the evening the Healer was well versed knowing you would be eating with the rest of the elites, afterwards skipping back to his Apothecary to inform him of the gossip you had overheard while there. Scheduled, like usual. This time howbeit things were contrasting to this long running schedule. Divergent in terms of the atmosphere, your body language, the timing. It was unsettling.

“I’m pained because of them. It is much the same as being invisible. Not only that, but Madame Belmore is plotting a distasteful act for me.”

Jeongin’s lips pull into a tight line listening to you. Madame Belmore had always been alternatively plotting, but you would always state your desire to complain about her then forget. To be so troubled by it, furthermore to enter his Apothecary so frazzled confirmed the urgency. Seeing you like this, curled up in a ball on the patient-bed you had basically grown up in, stirs an ugly nostalgia to froth. Grateful his back is facing you, concealing his transparency. He can’t say anything. Not about his gnawing guilt and chiefly not about his previous conversation with Han containing the exact details you’re speaking now.

“Innie, would you run away with me?”

His hands abruptly stop their shuffling, deciding against turning around to face you. Never did he expect such a preposition. Continuously caving when it came to you, too blinded by fondness to register what he was getting himself into before the thicket became too dark and suffocating that he’d reach for you to pull him to safety. Never did he expect such a preposition he would have to reject, indirectly saying to him that if you weren’t to close the book yourself, the pages would be ripped to pieces by someone else. That nickname, “Innie.” Only you could call him that.

This time though, a fine line had been drawn. One half his side, one half yours. Yours with the need to be free, his with the need to be with you. His of which wouldn’t allow a caged bird to venture out. Greater precaution told him he should’ve known that you were both walking a tightrope that would eventually lead to stumbling. He did know, however he didn’t acknowledge. The prospect was nauseating.

“I’m afraid.. I’m afraid I cannot do that.”

Eardrums buzzed, he hears you move. Hears the patter of your shoes on the stone flooring as you approach him. Your arms wrap around him, burying your head into his back.

“You know I will go through with it.”

“I do, and that is what breaks me.” His words falter, yet you don’t look up, aware it would be too much to watch his face crumble. Perhaps make you change your mind. Your best friend, the Healer of Iredal Castle, changed your mind with ease. Perhaps that’s also why this hug feels so bittersweet. You don’t want to let go, worried he’d slip through your fingers like sand upon separating. Bittersweet. There’s a slight croak, the man dissolving into billowing sobs. You carefully turn him around to face you, gazing up at his immeasurably enchanting face that you begged yourself not to see, not to give in to. Yet you did, every time. Clammy thumbs brush stray tears from his cheeks, watery smile disguising a throbbing ache settling inside of your chest. You’ll stay solid in order to keep to your word of running away, but dear is it challenging when Jeongin cries. If you could give him the world you would, despite that world being one without you in it disparate of what fantasy foretold. For Jeongin you would give anything, give in to anything. Anything except this.

“Tomorrow,” You await a sign he’s listening, his shaky hands reaching to hold your own that are cupping his face. He nods, big, emotion-filled globes for eyes shrieking a thunderous volume. Those chestnut orbs have always been mesmerizing, especially now when on the verge of breaking down. What a shame things are so pretty seconds before defeat.

“Tomorrow I will be gone, okay? And I’ll send you letters, Jeongin, and I want you to write back.” You’re coaching him through this, a second attempt to overshadow the feelings you’re experiencing of which you can’t describe. Feelings that harken an unpalatable sound from you you hardly recognized. It’s your turn to begin shaking, biting your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood in order to contain yourself along with the cry clawing at your stomach.

“You.. You promise to do that, to write back, okay?” Subtle repetition of words betray you, but you don’t pay mind, or care to pay mind. There’s fervent bidding, holding him close a little longer, wishing for a little longer that things could be different. Except each night the sun set below the horizon, and you would follow accordingly.

The following morning consisted of sitting with Changbin in your room, him gaping at the shamelessly decadent assortment piling into a burgundy chest. You wanted to thank him for helping you cope like this, staying quiet while you packed even though the roaring man would have talked your ear off if preferred. He had a misunderstood demeanor, but Seo Changbin was a good listener. Not as good as Jeongin, but a good listener.

“Are you planning to leave for fifteen years-“Shh!”

Cowering slightly, the Royal Guard mumbled out hushed “sorry”’s as you checked through your belongings, ensuring each and every necessity was visibly there.

“..Alright. I pardon that’s everything.”

Uneasy quiver to your voice betrays you for a second time, lugging the massive chest downstairs with the help of your brown-haired emotional support. Ironic how the foyer stayed empty the entire time, not a soul peering from wooden doorways. Possibilities are limitless as you stand at the entry gates, patting the man’s shoulder farewell and prompting him to tell your acquaintances goodbye in your stead. You could run back, discard all your packaged belongings on your bed like it would make a difference due to primarily sleeping in Jeongin’s Apothecary. You could scream your lungs out and throw the wine Madame Belmore had sipped so precariously last night all over her satin white dress. You didn’t, finding no reason to disorient an outcome gradually worsening without needing your aid.

“You be safe now. ‘Get yourself into trouble and Han and I will go hunting you down.” His words grumble and you crack a ghost of a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, Changbin doesn’t mind.

The village is relatively small compared to the grandeur of Iredal’s Castle, nothing that you hadn’t anticipated before — and not in an arrogant, castle-grown demeanor �� instead quaint, peaceful. You arrived by horseback, memorizing individual landscapes you pass on the way to scribble into a letter for Jeongin. Tell him of your trials and tribulations migrating to this foreign land, a prolonged explanation of what actually occurred that would hopefully earn his pretty laugh. A pretty laugh you already missed hearing.

Soon enough you settled into a comfortable household. Settled swiftly conducive to deterring your mind of returning to both the boy you loved and the home you had always known. Moving on was unyielding, this time though no one was glowering in your direction or expecting nothing, your only responsibility being to reach your own expectations. Those expectations built up in the process of working at a pottery shop on the northside of town. Additionally, November, paired with the bustle of customers and climbing income, became favored upon receiving a letter in the mail. Jeongin’s letter, and your first reply.

My Dearest,

How are you faring in the villages? Are you nourishing yourself? I’m hoping this is delivered to you at a suitable time and that you don’t miss me too greatly. Iredal Castle runs as usual without much squander, though I would prefer if you were here as well. The servants have successfully concealed your presence as a “sudden departure” so no need to fret. I cherish you deeply, please know I think of you endlessly and wish you well my dearest.

Sincerely yours, Yang Jeongin 양정인

Crouched over a desk in the pottery shop's backroom, your fingertips bunched the inked parchment, taking extra time to memorize the signature curvature of his “s” and how he would linger the feather tip a tad bit longer to achieve a darker hue on his periods. This was the first letter of what seemed like hundreds. Back and forth back and forth you wrote, on occasion locking yourself in the nearest isolated place to collect your rampaging thoughts. Discovering Jeongin’s confidence when writing relative to his meekness in real life bemused you in the sense of his compelling grasp of literature, example being his innate ability to have you holding onto every word. Oh how you yearned to visit him without constantly daydreaming the interaction. You wonder if he’s changed. If he’s forgotten about you, fallen in love- no. Pondering poorly is rotten for the mind. A worm coring an apple. Mental impressment.

Lovely, awakening to his appearance through letters in defiance to physical interaction, because he was there. You couldn’t see him, but you knew he was there. Thinking of you while writing, listening. In spite of that, the certain comfort obtained during your letter exchange paused abruptly when the letters instantaneously stopped. Throughout the span of nearly eight months, his letters simply stopped. Initially you had assumed deliveries were slow, until you started asking the Postal if they had any letters assigned under your name on the daily. None. It left you somewhat starstruck, how rapidly your reality could be twisted. The worm wedging inside your simultaneously rotting apple of a brain you had smothered away days earlier. You wanted to convince yourself he was busy, to ease the worry, arguing that Summer was approaching and hay fever could be assaulting members of the Castle. Summer passed though, and so did the Mail boy carrying no “Yn Ln” assigned letters in his leather satchel.

Next was the anger, the ache. Childlike confusion as to why, when. Jeongin was not one to stop writing back without prior notice of his situation. But like you had fretted, in those eight months he might’ve changed. Yang Jeongin, your Yang Jeongin, might have changed into a spiteful man. Worst case being he forgot. Gradually, he would forget. About your love, about growing up together, about you. Nonsensical anxiety began wading itself through your veins, infecting your head. Furthermore, your anger persisted. Considering your anxiety was infectious, the anger was parasitic. Flaming and unhinged to where you were left no choice after long summer days waiting for a response but to find your own solution to the ghosting.

. ..

“Han Jisung I have every right to talk to that son of a bitc-''And I have every right to give you a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why you cannot see Jeongin right now.” He butts in, addressing your flailing arms with a sheepish expression. Sheepish. Han Jisung is sheepish when he’s making excuses. You’ve determined that rather quickly. Taking a perplexed step back, you cross your arms over your chest, regarding the walking excuse impatiently.

You’ve been sleepless for two weeks now, arranging a time and date as to when you would finally show your face at the Castle’s gates again to confront Jeongin only to be told he was unavailable. Being impatient was a given.

“Enlighten me.”

A big sigh.

“Please don’t misinterpret this, I’m sure he would love to see you, talk to you and all the things a person does with their lover that I know of because of romance novels I’ve read in my past time and oh no I’m talking too much but um, he is quite occupied at the moment.” Along with tapping his foot, Han’s habit you’d learned from Jeongin is he rambles ceaselessly. Only problem being you can’t tell if it’s simply a trait of his or nervousness due to confrontation. You don’t buy it either way.

“And? What has been keeping him occupied if I may ask.” The unconvinced stare etching your face earns lifted brows, and it’s the Royal Guard’s turn to flail his arms, the clank of his metallic armor loudly echoing — causing once calm birds to strike to the skies fretfully.

“With all due respect, do you really believe he would tell me what he’s preoccupied with?”

Hm. That is fair. Jeongin has always been a quiet one apart from conversing with you, his necessary antics placed at the top of the list. Somewhere, you hoped you’d be on the top of that list too, a fleeting thought you knew would be recurring.

Trivial deciding between going back to the village to wallow in your own self pity or make an equally pitiful sprint to Jeongin’s Apothecary to wring the man, luckily, the former reigned supreme in decision-making on this particular occasion. You breathed a long puff of air through your nose, shifting your weight into your heel from one foot to the other thoughtfully.

“Then, can you inform me when he’s not preoccupied?” No, you’re not giving up, simply rescheduling. Venturing back to the villages to await a letter from anyone, telling you the man has gained enough confidence to make room for you, that he had “rescheduled.” Han flashes a small smile, ruffling your hair kindly unlike the same sheepish contortion gracing his features. He doesn’t have to say anything to understand, to know of your struggle. You also know he sees your roaring anguish. Han Jisung has always been like that. Empathetic to a fault.

Changbin as the good listener, Han as the empathetic, and Jeongin as the man who was preoccupied.

Another optic of contemplation negotiates that you should have brushed the doubts away, decided against putting so much into gaining a single letter back. Nevertheless, it was impossible to both diminish the doubts and will a letter, and most certainly to ever let go of Jeongin. Perhaps he could manage to let go when it came to you, but it would never be the other way around.

Eventually you learned he surely couldn’t be that occupied, you mean, if he had the audacity to show his face in the pottery shop his list of priorities couldn’t be that time consuming now could they? Days from breaching a year without even seeing him and the one responsible for your misery causally entered the exact shop you had fled Castle life for. Referring to “eventually” as in right on time to absolutely wreck whatever fragments of acceptance you had gathered during his absence. Jeongin was good at making you lose, almost as good as he was at changing your mind.

Had Han said something to him about your visit? It seemed not, since the man didn’t pay any mind to you, like you didn’t exist just as the Royals had done. Your blood ran cold, standing frozen behind the front desk, eyes glued to the figure who casually strolled through the front door as if he hadn’t shattered your soul into a bountiful disarray a year in advance.

“Why are you here?”

“To get a jar.” He bites back coldly, bitter. Quick upon answering without consideration, not even turning to look at you.

A stranger, Yang Jeongin, is the exact figure who had walked through the door. Not someone you knew, but a stranger, a mere customer with a crude attitude.

“You’re aware you could have sent Han to get a new jar for you, like you had him tell me you were occupied with your duties, right? I see through-“No you don’t!”

Everything seemed to go rigid. Jeongin never raised his voice. But he did, and his mouth lay agape as he stared at you. Eyes blazing with something unreadable. Your hands tremble by your sides, fighting to maintain a composed expression as you stare back. This time, you compose with a heavy tongue, mouth just as dry as before.

“Are you going to say because of your position you could not even bother to acknowledge my feelings, couldn’t respond to my letters? Because you are the Healer and I am the invisible god-daughter you cannot just tell me what is taking up your time? Stop hurting me, please Jeongin.”

His jaw clenched. Pausing, then resorting to stepping over to where you stood and harshly sitting the clay jar atop the counter without a word. Jeongin spoke much without words, today, you didn’t want to listen. Hushed, he parted strawberry lips you’d kissed more times than healthy and there you are, hanging on with the feeble belief this is Jeongin you’re speaking to and not a stranger.

“… I knew if I sent out another letter I would come here, see you, fall all over again and have to stay. But I presume in the end my feet always lead me back to you.”

You feel your heart shattering into a million pieces, worried he’d crumble like a year ago and you’d pathetically follow suit. Instead, you smiled. A real smile that hurt your cheeks because you missed him, missed this even if it was an argument. Missed the hurt and the denial and the rawness of it all. Most importantly, missed your best friend and the love of your life.

Forgiving. You allowed yourself to forgive too easily with Jeongin.

In order to make eye contact you peek beneath dark strands of hair, adorning a big smile while gazing at him you can’t believe manages to appear when you should be fuming.

“You have grown so handsome, Innie.”

Because he has. His jawline has grown sharper(maybe it’s your lack of inspection) and his once tightly cut hair has become overgrown and unkempt, somehow foolishly infatuating. He looks older, he looks lonesome.

Stalling, he sucked in a sharp breath, eyes unevenly flickering from your eyes to your lips.

“.. May I kiss you?”

Considering it, you should’ve pushed him away, drilled him about how cruel he was to you and then shun him from the shop — shouldn’t have smiled or complimented him. Shouted at him for the Summer he left you waiting, wanting. For the never ending worrying he’d burdened you with. Sensible, but not the outcome you favored. After all, it was a refreshing time of year and opportunities like this were a bit too tempting to resist. He gave the impression he felt the same sort of gaping hesitance anyway.

“Just once.”

It’s his turn to laugh sadly, and he does kiss you. Slow and careful like you were a porcelain teacup, like the first time. Like he’s sorry, meaning it without an excuse. And miraculously, Innie had returned to visit you too. The one you knew, not the stranger nor a customer. Not the man who stopped sending you letters, not the one who raised his voice.

“Will you come back to visit? Or is this a fleeting chance?” Thick lashes dust fervently upon pulling apart, attempting to clear his rosy-hazed vision while listening to your whisper. Sneakily, his hand slips forward, spinning the jar sitting between you while another occupies itself on your cheek, caressing the skin he’s dreamt of.

“For another jar and ingredients, certainly.”

You’re quick to shove him, dubiously irritated by his ability to carelessly tease. Charming, but you won’t let him know that.

“Take this seriously!”

Giggles fill the expanse of the pottery shop as you playfully banter back and forth, drinking in the raindrops after your lengthy drought. Omniscient is the mutual unspoken sorry he mutely confessed to you, over and over with his affection, his words, his touch.

“However I have yet to let my unanswered letters go disregarded.” You perplex, Jeongin’s smile a risky jargon — concealing some sort of mischievous intention.

“Don’t fret yourself love, I’ll make up for all the responses you weren’t delivered.” He leans across the wooden panel, ushering a kiss you stubbornly resisted. Finally he maneuvers to your lips, snatching chaste pecks here and there as you struggle, laughing all the while. As if he’s carefully scouring back all the times he could have savored your lips in your time apart.

“Every day,”

Kiss.

“I will deliver a response,”

Kiss.

“With a flower attached from the shop next door,”

Kiss.

“Until all the letters I didn’t answer are answered.”

He’s satisfied with himself after you affirm the decision with a subtle chuckle, patting him on the shoulder and slipping his earlier payment into a compartment below the counter.

“I said you could kiss me just once, but I’ll look forward to my letters of compensation.”

Goodness, have you given enough credit to his smile? No description could possibly describe its beauty. One of his many factors you missed dearly. Imagining the future, you wondered if you would be granted the ability to witness them — all the pieces you thought you had lost after eight months. Time would tell. He left, except his departure wasn’t heartfelt. Instead it felt as if he would drop by tomorrow like back in the Castle, like things were how they used to be.

Awakening the following day, you figured Jeongin had been joking, not anticipating him to immediately write back and definitely not anticipating him to attach a flower alongside. Apart from the many miles separating the villages from the Castle, where he found the time to answer so many letters and supply flowers stood challenging to comprehend. Although you were proven wrong when the Postal service slipped a pristinely pale envelope into the shop's mailbox in the midst of your shift, mesmerizing White Orchids embellishing the visual. And for a moment, your mind streamed clearer. There he goes, leaving you breathless again.

The field chatter, the daisy bracelets. He proves you wrong a second time. He had listened. Listened to you talk all that time ago about those flowers and their meaning, otherwise he wouldn’t have added it with the letter you sent exclaiming your frustration about his sudden unresponsive state. Listened unlike the Royals had. Listened like a best friend, like a lover should.

White Orchids symbolize “I’m sorry.”

The next day, then the next. More letters passing by your window, beneath your door, in the mailbox or by hand on your way to the stalls. Petals littering the floor the only trace of your not-so-secret admirer. Twenty days later, they keep arriving in a constant and you’re left to ponder if perhaps he had planned this. Planned to apologize, planned to respond.

Friday. Pink Camellias symbolize “I missed you.”

Occasionally he would stay a while and watch you read his letters, scooping you up in his arms or wistfully chuckling from afar. Drinking in the time he was longing for and awaiting the time he’d experience now that he had you. And despite being Sunday and early at that, the letters continued to pour. Except today, unbeknownst to you, happened to be your last letter among hundreds, and a knock at the shop's door hadn’t gone unnoticed in the midst of your daily shift. Stirring you awake from whatever illusions had pulled you from the world's atmosphere. Walking outside to see what was the matter, you gasped, shocked by the large bouquet of vermillion flowers the man held that nearly concealed his face due to their abundant size. Jeongin, clad in a clean tanned trench coat, grinned a saccharine beam as he spoke, squinted eyes and puffy cheeks just as you remembered.

“This is your last letter, I hope I can make up for everything I’ve missed, my love.”

The flowers he held?

Red Chrysanthemums.

Red Chrysanthemums symbolize,

“I love you.”

all rights reserved by @sunboki. repost and plagiarism will not be tolerated.

feedback much appreciated :)

[vacantgodling]

sjaak facts? *rattles tin* spare sjaak facts?

EEEE SJAAK FACTS YIPPEE!!!!!!!

tw: slavery jumpscare

-i haven’t said it formally yet but sjaak is 23 as of the events of btaf (1811) ; he was born in 1788, was turned into a werewolf in 1808 so he’s been a werewolf for 3 years — probably 2 and some change, cuz idk what actual Month he was born in (i have yet to make an actual timeline wanna feel everything out first before i start REALLY hammering the dates down, but i do know the gist). honestly when i think back to myself at 23, this explains most of his nonsensical behavior HFJFJF

-he is black & dutch. i may have mentioned it before but to fully explain tl;dr his mother was born a slave and was subsequently freed when her former master brought her to the netherlands and during this time period slavery had been abolished so she was good. she still lived as a laborer and worked at a rich man’s estate for poor money. sjaak’s father was actually the master of that estate his mother worked in and his Actual Wife worked sjaak’s mother to death out of jealousy p much. she died when he was 13 and Also explains many of his fucking issues 🤷🏽‍♂️

-first description i have of sjaak in draft 2 bc fuck it he handsome:

the person sitting astride her is hard to make out in the moonlight, but the moonlight reflects like a mirror off of his darkened, wet skin. his eyes are dark but its deep like the pits of an unseen hole, with no sheen in them other than the tears perhaps left unshed. his hands are gripping his pants leg so tightly that they’re near ripped. his hair tumbles out his face in wild, kinky waves, the wetter ends slimming out into stringy strands, that are immune to the frizz that takes root of the middle. his lips are plush and full and his nose wide and strong, and his lashes dark and beautiful almost feminine in their fullness. he wears a simple uniform, reminiscent of the french militia, but it looks somewhat tight on him, as though it is these mere threads of fabric that are holding him back from bursting at the seams entirely. some parts of it appear to be caked in blood.

-when his hair is dry it has looser but still kinky curls and since it’s been a few years since he’s had a haircut it falls into his eyes. like this probably (sorry the quality is ass i just wanted yall to see the hair texture)

-in the first 26 pages of draft 2 he has thrown himself to the ground sobbing twice LMAOOO there will be more :)

-sjaak has killed three people up until the beginning of the book but it’s the fourth one at the end of the book that’s REALLY gonna make him feel a way :DDD

-sjaak is left handed but right pawed in his werewolf form lol

-azelie was his first time. the only nut he’s ever had as a human lmao 💀 (i rotate this scene in my head a LOOOOT tbh…. i should write it at some point fbdjfjdj)

-even though biscella doesn’t know how to read or write, sjaak has known from a young age, his mother taught him :3c

that’s all the ones i can think of right this second—i’m tired bc of being on the bus + it’s rainy and i just pretty much reread all of btaf’s draft 1 again LOL 💀💀 i just ugHhh i need this to be written already. but thank you for asking!!

[tojisangrylittlething]

supernova - megumi fushiguro x fem!reader

chapter three: the new girl

tw: canon typical violence, some cussing

wc: 4.5k

a/n: chapter 3 eeee! i know i know this may seem slow, but trust the process my friends! lot of story to tell and lot of love to build up hehe

slowly but surely, you and yuuji have settled into the school.

you both received your uniforms, the same basic navy uniform while yuuji's has a red hood attached, yours has a white one.

you're currently sitting in your dorm and browsing on your laptop. a knock on your door startles you out of your once peaceful state.

"oi, sister, get out here! gojo-sensei needs us for something!"

you shut your laptop with a sigh, a bit annoyed that your perusing was interrupted.

you stand up and walk toward your door, opening it with a bit too much force that it hits the wall.

you send a glare at your brother, "must you always be so loud! i was doing something!"

yuuji waves you off with a small laugh, "you can finish your shopping later, gojo-sensei called for us."

you let out a huff and rolled your eyes, "fine, let me put on my shoes."

you turn back to your room and grab your shoes from where they sit by the door. once you've slipped them on, you walk back out the door. shutting it until you hear it click.

yuuji begins to walk off and you follow, heading toward wherever gojo is.

---

you wind up at the entrance of the school, where your sensei stands alongside megumi.

"ah there you two are!" gojo says with a smile, he seems to smile an awful lot for a sorcerer.

yuuji sends a smile back at him as you cross your arms, "what did you need gojo-sensei? i was a bit busy."

yuuji scoffs at you, "yeah, too busy with online shopping."

you hit his arm and he holds his hands up defensively, giggling at you.

"they were having a sale, mind you, and i needed a new top!"

gojo laughs at the antics of you and your brother, then decides to speak up, "i'm sorry to ruin your free time, but we need to pick up a new student!"

yuuji looks at him quizzically, "new student?"

you groan at him, "is the new student a girl? please tell me she is because i'm getting tired of being surrounded by this much testosterone."

gojo looks at you blankly, "i'm going to pretend you didn't just hurt my feelings, but yes, she is."

you fist pump the air, while yuuji lets out a small groan.

"if she's anything like my sister, this is going to suck."

you smack him on the arm again, beginning to chase him and shout about how you're a fantastic sister.

megumi watches on, rolling his eyes slightly at the two of you, ready to just get on with it. were he and tsumiki always like this?

gojo walks toward you and yuuji, grabbing you both by the back of your hoods, effectively stopping the fight.

"alright students, as much as i would love to see you two fight, we do need to be going. yuuji, you're up front with me!"

as gojo walks back toward the car, megumi doesn't miss the small smirk gojo sends toward him.

asshole.

yuuji hops up front with gojo, and you make your way to the back of the car.

megumi opens the door for you with a small smile, and you give him the same bashful look.

"thank you, fushiguro." you say with a nod and hop in, sliding all the way over.

megumi nods at you and hops in himself.

with that, you're on your way to pick up the new student.

---

you, yuuji, and megumi are all standing on the busy streets. you can't help but stare at all of the shops and food vendors with curiosity, wishing you weren't here on business.

yuuji sits on top of a rail, eating a popsicle, "so wait, why are there only four first years? isn't that too few?"

megumi turns to look at him, "well, have you ever met anyone who can see curses before?"

yuuji stops eating then, simply holding the popsicle in his mouth for a moment while he thinks, "nope, i guess not."

megumi glances around at his surroundings and then back to yuuji, "that just proves how small a minority jujutsu sorcerers are."

you turn to the two boys then, remembering something megumi had said previously, "wait, didn't you say yuuji and i were the third and fourth?"

megumi looks at you then and sees the inquisitive look on your face, "their entry was decided a while ago. i'm sure you know what our school is like by now, everyone has unique circumstances."

"sorry for the wait!"

all of you turn your heads to see gojo walking up to you three casually. he then glances at you and yuuji, looking the both of you up and down. "i see your uniforms made it in time!"

you nod at him and look down at your uniform, "yeah, it's a perfect fit, wasn't expecting that if i'm honest."

yuuji looks at him, pulling on his uniform slightly, "though, it's a bit different from fushiguro's."

gojo holds a finger up in the air, "that's because they can be customized upon request."

you furrow your brows, "request? i never put in any request, did you yuuji?"

he shakes his head at you.

"that's because i did." gojo says with a grin.

you both look at him blankly, you scratch the back of your neck, "well thanks, i guess."

megumi glances at you out of the corner of his eye, "careful, gojo-sensei has a tendency to do things like that." he then looks back to gojo, glancing upward, "more importantly, why are we meeting up in harajuku?"

gojo just smiles at him, beginning to walk down the street, "it's what she asked for!"

all three of you begin walking after him, seemingly given no choice in the matter.

---

eventually, you find who you're looking for. she's not hard to miss, wearing the uniform while also yelling at some guy on the street. something about modeling you think.

"hey! over here!"

you jump slightly at the volume of gojo's voice, bumping into megumi in the process.

"sorry fushiguro, the big oaf scared me."

he glares at gojo then, but his gaze softens when he looks back at you, "don't worry about it, itadori. he scares all of us sometimes."

you giggle at that and find that megumi is also sporting a small smile. you look back at the girl, who has now made her way toward all of you.

"nobara kugisaki. be happy, boys. that i'm..." she cuts herself off then and notices you standing there. she grins slightly at the sight of you, "one of the women in your group. thought you said i was the only one sensei?"

gojo waves her off with a small laugh, "things happen, you should know that kugisaki."

she looks back at you and you give her a small smile, "y/n itadori, so happy to have another woman here." you lean forward, cupping your hand over one side of your mouth whispering, "please save me."

she leans her head back and lets out a full-belly laugh. she looks back at you, her eyes seeming to shine brightly, "we're going to get along so well."

once the rest of you introduce themselves, megumi turns to gojo, "are we going somewhere from here?"

gojo chuckles slightly and looks at all of you with a smile, but you can see the mischief hidden behind it.

"well, since all of you are together, we're going on a tour of tokyo!"

you, yuuji, and nobara all cheer in celebration. megumi looks at all of you discontentedly, wondering are they always like this?

---

"when you said a tour of tokyo, this is not what i thought you meant." nobara says, throwing her back with a groan.

all of you are standing in front of an abandoned building with a cemetery nearby. you can feel that same heaviness in the air like you did at the high school that night.

gojo continues to look at the building, "there's a curse here. the cemetery nearby only adds to it."

you pipe up then, "so they do really pop up more often around graves."

megumi turns to you, "the issue isn't the cemetery itself, it's the fact that people associate cemeteries with fear."

yuuji lets out a noise of realization then, "it was the same for schools, too, wasn't it?"

nobara then looks over at all of you, confusion and irritation all over her face, "hold up, they didn't even know that yet?"

megumi closes his eyes with a sigh. he then begins to explain to nobara how the two of you wound up as jujustu sorcerers. sukuna's finger, how yuuji swallowed it, and the mysterious powers you seem to possess.

nobara gasps at that, all of it seeming unbelievable to her, "he swallowed a special-grade cursed object? gross!" she gags at the thought of swallowing something so vile.

she turns to you then with an accusatory stare, "and you! you didn't swallow anything, so how could you even do that? especially with no experience?!"

you shrug your shoulders at her, "i don't know. it just kind of happened."

she opens her mouth, probably wanting to ask you more questions when gojo cuts her off.

"i want to know what all of you are capable of, just think of this as a field test."

he turns around, finally looking at all of you. he points at you, nobara, and yuuji. "you three go exorcise the curse inside the building."

you all let out noises of disapproval, not wanting to go into the building.

"i thought only curses could exorcise curses, right? my sister and i don't know any jujutsu yet." yuuji says while you nod along with him.

gojo looks at yuuji then, that same irritating smirk he seems to always wear, "you're practically half curse already. there's cursed energy flowing throughout both of your bodies."

gojo then looks at you this time, continuing on, "though controlling that energy isn't something you can learn overnight, so use this."

he hands yuuji a weapon then, it looks like a large knife with a long handle on the end of it. you can sense that it's surrounded by energy.

you turn to look at gojo then, "but what about me sensei? do i get a cool weapon to go in there with?"

he shakes his head at you and you gasp, "how am i supposed to defend myself? are you trying to kill me?" you can't deny the irritation that fills you up.

"i want you to use your powers."

you feel your jaw go slack, not believing what you're hearing, "sensei, i didn't even know i could do that! i have no idea how to use it, let alone control it, how the hell am i supposed to use them?"

gojo crosses his arms, unphased by the look you're giving him. "you used them that night right?"

you nodded at him, "yeah but-"

he cuts you off, putting his hands on his hips, "then i know you can use them now, you just have to trust yourself."

you gulp and look back at the building, feeling the anxiety consume your body.

nobara scoffs then, making her way toward the building. you and yuuji look at each other, he shrugs and walks after her. you begin to follow.

"one more thing."

you all turn to look at gojo.

he's looking directly at yuuji, "don't let sukuna out. if you use him, you'll get rid of all the curses nearby in a flash, but you'll also drag everyone around into it."

yuuji gives him a smile and a thumbs up, "got it."

nobara lets out an exasperated sigh, "hurry up!"

all three of you then make your way into the abandoned building, nervous about what's waiting for you inside.

---

megumi and gojo sit outside on a bench, just across from the building.

megumi cannot stop thinking of every possible thing that could go wrong. what if they get hurt? what if sukuna finds a way to be let out? what if, what if, what if...

he shakes his head, trying to wash away the thoughts plaguing his brain. he turns to gojo, "i think i'll go, too."

gojo just sits there casually, hands on his knees, staring ahead to where his 3 students just walked into.

"don't push yourself. you're still recovering."

megumi gulps, looking back toward the building. "but someone needs to keep an eye on yuuji, right?"

gojo nods, "true, but the one we're testing is nobara."

megumi's mind flashes to you then. the small smile and thanks you gave him, the giggle you let out at his joke about gojo.

"but what about y/n? you heard her, she doesn't know how to control them yet."

gojo turns to look at him then, smirk adorning his features, "have a little faith in your girlfriend will you? she's got this."

megumi feels his face heat up when gojo says that. he's sure that he's glowing bright red.

"she's not my girlfriend!"

gojo laughs at his student, enjoying the new way he's found to torture the poor boy.

"whatever you say, megumi."

megumi just grumbles to himself and crosses his arms over his chest. he can only hope that this goes smoothly.

---

"what a pain. why do i have to deal with curses after coming all the way to tokyo?"

you and nobara are walking up some stairs with yuuji just a few paces behind. you look at nobara and can see frustration seeping out of her.

"isn't that what you came here for?"

nobara doesn't say anything. she suddenly stops in her tracks, turning to face you and yuuji. "let's split up. i'll start from the top and make my way down. you two start from the bottom."

she turns back toward the stairs, "let's get this over with quick and grab some sushi from ginza."

yuuji continues to look at her, a bit irritated at her request, "hold on a minute, let's take this a bit more seriously."

you walk toward her and grab her upper arm, causing her to face you again. "we shouldn't split up, isn't that the number one rule in horror movies? this is a bad idea."

a scowl then grows on her face and her eyes are furrowed together in anger. she rips her arm away from your hand and turns to you fully.

she walks closer so that she's directly in your face, "i don't wanna hear it from two people who were normies until recently. now get moving." with that, she turns back to the stairs and takes off.

you can feel yourself becoming angry as well, clenching your fists and wanting to take off after her. feeling the need to give her a piece of your mind.

you feel a hand on your shoulder and your body goes stiff. turning your head you see yuuji looking at you with an apologetic smile.

"come on."

you turn back to where nobara once stood and let out a scoff, remembering the interaction.

"bitch." you can't help but mumble out.

yuuji chuckles at you. you two make your way back to the ground floor.

while walking, you hear something coming from above you. you both look up toward the noise, seeing something reaching for the both of you.

without hesitating, yuuji cuts off the appendage and moves you behind him.

turning to look at the source, you see a bug-like curse standing in front of you.

it begins to charge at the both of you then, which causes yuuji to begin running at it.

you can't help but watch as yuuji moves through the air like a professional gymnast. slicing its arms and stomach, then eventually landing the final blow in the head.

it whines out in pain and twitches on the floor. when yuuji pulls the blade out, that's when it begins to decay away in a cloud of purple and black smoke.

yuuji looks up at you with an enthusiastic smile, a twinkle dancing around in his pupils, "sister, did you see that?"

you shake your head and giggle at his antics, "i did brother, you can really move."

he hops up off the ground, dusting off his clothes and makes his way back to you. "come on, let's keep going."

you both continue on, keeping an eye out for any other curses that might be lurking in the shadows.

---

nobara finds herself in a room with a handful of mannequins opposite of her. she's already sensed where the curse is, but she's waiting for it to appear.

she sighs out, her body emanating one thing, boredom.

"you think you're actually hidden there?"

she pulls two nails out of her pack along with her hammer, holding them in front of her.

"if you won't come out, i'll just exorcise you there."

she gets herself into a fighting stance, imbuing the nails with cursed energy. she tosses them and hits them with her hammer, letting them fly directly into the head of one of the mannequins.

the mannequin begins to fall backward, not quite hitting the ground. multiple eyes begin to sprout from its head and lay eyes on nobara.

as soon as it tries to take a step, the head explodes, sending the mannequin into a crumpled heap on the floor.

she drops her head and closes her eyes, proud of what she just accomplished.

she hears something then, looking back in front of her, a piece of wood falls onto the floor. revealing a small boy, curled into himself and shaking with fear.

she shakes her head, feeling sympathy for the child who probably just snuck in for some fun.

she walks toward him, stopping a few feet away. leaning down to his level, she gives him a reassuring smile, "hey, it's all right now. come on out."

he just shakes his head at her, seeming too scared to move.

she stands up straight and turns away from him, closing her eyes once again, "guess it's true that kids don't warm up to beautiful women. i suppose i'll call the twins."

the kid screams out then, "wait! don't leave me here!"

nobara turns around at the sound, seeing the boy reaching for her.

unfortunately, that's not the only thing she sees.

she sees a hand begin to reach for the boy's head from inside the wall, latching itself onto him.

it steps out of the wall, revealing itself.

a curse that, almost, resembles a disgusting cave troll. it dangles the boy in front of itself, waving him around like some toy.

nobara immediately gets ready to fight, but then realizes something.

she could hit the boy.

she sees the curse dig its claws into him, making blood drip from the punctures.

her eyes widen, trying to figure out what she can do. her mind going blank, unsure as to how to solve this. damn it!

the curse cackles at nobara, knowing the difficult position it has put her in. it knows she's angry and it only wants to rile her up more, so she'll make a mistake.

nobara realizes this as she understands what she has to do.

she drops her tools and bag, holding her arms in the air.

"i'm unarmed, let the boy go."

the curse grins maliciously at her, not dropping the boy, nor showing any signs it will do so.

she slumps dejectedly, all fight leaving her body.

"i wish i could have seen saori-chan one last time."

she hears something then, a rumbling noise from the direction of the curse. but that wasn't the curse was it?

a hand punches through the wall, beginning to reach around the open space it created.

"huh, i missed it?"

"good job brother, fantastic aim."

nobara knows those two voices.

the wall then bursts open, revealing none other than yuuji and y/n itadori.

the curse jumps back, boy still in hand, but it looks scared.

yuuji cuts off its arm, catching the boy before he hits the ground. yuuji kicks the curse in the face, using the momentum to bounce back away from it, the boy still in his grasp.

you walk up to stand next to your brother, looking down at the boy with a smile, "you okay?"

the boy nods with a slight blush on his cheeks.

you all look back at the curse, seeing it cradle its now severed arm. it groans in pain and begins to try and disappear through the wall.

"it's getting away!"

you don't even think before you run straight at the curse.

"sister what are you doing!"

you tackle the curse, which unfortunately sends you both flying out the window.

"y/n!"

you hear both yuuji and nobara shout for you, but you're not letting this thing get away. hurting an innocent child? now that's just uncalled for.

you feel that same electrical charge from the night at the school. it surges through you, but you aren't sure how to use it to exorcise this curse.

"you just have to trust yourself."

you remember gojo's words from earlier and close your eyes, honing all of your focus into using your newfound gift.

you open your eyes, looking directly at the curse who is staring back at you with nothing but fear.

you hold your hand up in the air, gathering some of your energy until it forms a ball of white light. you shove your hand into its head as it whimpers in pain.

the light overtakes the curse and yourself, becoming a glowing orb heading straight to the ground.

---

megumi and gojo hear glass breaking above them. a curse flies out of the window and then something, or someone follows with it.

"itadori!" megumi shouts, his eyes wide with panic. he turns to gojo, "we have to exorcise it."

gojo just smiles at him, waving off his worries. "just wait."

megumi looks back up toward the sky. he sees that you and the curse have disappeared. a ball of white light has engulfed you and the curse.

megumi can't help but watch what is happening, fearing the absolute worst. his heart is pounding and he's biting the dry skin off his lips, the anticipation of what might happen absolutely killing him.

the sphere of light crashes into the ground, debris flying all over the place.

megumi put his hands up in front of his face to block any objects coming his way.

he looks back up and sees smoke everywhere. the more he looks, that's when he sees a white glow inside it.

he continues to stare, just waiting for all of the dust to settle. god, he hates waiting.

once everything does clear, he's shocked by what he sees.

the curse lays dead on the ground, beginning to rot away with purple and black hues swirling around it. the head of it completely disintegrated.

then, there's you.

you stand there, breathing heavily. he can't see your beautiful eye color anymore, they have been replaced by a bright glow. your fists, hell, your whole body is covered in it. the color white surrounds you entirely.

there's only one word that megumi can think of to describe the presence you give off, intimidating.

yuuji and nobara have now made their way out of the building. they're out of breath from taking off after you. the small boy sits comfortably on yuuji's back.

"damn, they're all crazy."

megumi looks back at gojo, who wears a proud smile on his face.

he looks back to you and sighs with relief, closing his eyes and rubbing them with his hands.

"what the hell was that?" nobara screams, now standing by megumi and gojo.

you just stand there, you haven't come out of your state yet.

megumi approaches you cautiously, not wanting to startle you.

"it's okay itadori, it's over."

you simply stare back, breathing still ragged and fists still clenched.

megumi makes a move to put his hand on your arm, only trying to calm you. when you suddenly grab it firmly, pulling it away from you. that's when he feels the enormous amount of power from you, sending shockwaves through him like he just put his finger in an electrical socket.

"megumi." he hears gojo say, but he chooses to ignore him.

megumi can't help it, he is constantly drawn to you, like a moth to a flame. he feels this incessant need to protect you.

he feels your grip loosen and makes the move again. this time, successfully landing on your arm.

he rubs up a down softly, "it's done, you can let go."

he feels your power drain away, your eyes turning back to normal and your breathing slow. you unclench your fists and close your eyes briefly.

you open them and see everyone looking at you. you then look at megumi who wears a soothing look on his face. you feel your face warm up, loving the soft expression on him. it suits him, he should do it more.

you grap his hand on your arm and squeeze it lightly, "thank you, fushiguro."

the small smile you send megumi has him screaming internally.

you go to take a step, but feel yourself wobble, feeling unsteady on your feet.

"slowly, itadori."

you snort, looking over at him with a playful gaze, "i have a feeling this won't be the last time you say that."

he chuckles a bit, looking at you with the same gaze, "probably not."

you hear someone clear their throat and look over to see gojo staring at the both of you, that shit eating grin plastered on his lips.

"if you two are done, we have to get this boy home."

you and megumi both realize how close you are to each other, your hand still resting on his. both looking at each other with wide eyes, you jump away, scratching the back of your neck.

"sorry sensei." megumi says, and walks off toward everyone without another glance at you.

you also walk toward them on unsteady feet.

"y/n and i will take the boy home, you all go back and get your rest."

everyone nods and yuuji comes up to you, giving you a hug. he pulls back with a smile and ruffles your hair, "good job sister."

you smile back and thank him. he turns back and all of them begin to take the trek back to the school.

---

you and gojo have dropped the boy off, who thanked you with a wide smile and a hug.

now the two of you walk in silence, enjoying the beautiful day.

"so, when are you and megumi going to get together?"

you stop in your tracks and stare at gojo with wide eyes.

"excuse me?"

gojo stops as well, staring at you with that same fucking smirk, and at this moment you want to smack it off of him.

"i'm not blind you know."

you begin to stutter over your words, unsure of what to say next. your face growing warm in embarrassment.

gojo can't help but laugh at you. a genuine laugh that comes straight from the gut.

once his laughing fit stops, he pats you on the back with an approving smile.

"don't worry, your secret is safe with me."

with that, he begins to walk, continuing on the path to get back to the school.

you can't help but smile to yourself, running after gojo to try and keep up with his long strides.

tags: @kasumitenbaz @ay0nha