#I think it's because he was one of two characters with those eyes

[jifloulette]

when bachira was a child, he and his mom would create diy advent calendars with each other filled with things that they'd think that the other likes! his mom would put soccer related things in his, be it magazines, jerseys, and keychains. bachira's calendar would be filled with painting materials (some of it he stole off of his mom's own painting supplies), and some stones and pebbles he saw besides their house that he thought looked pretty!

now a few years later, he's now doing it with another person he deeply adores.. you! the two of you only continued the tradition when you went to his house and saw two advent calendars displayed on a table right next to a pretty christmas tree. bachira's eyes lightened up the second you asked him what those were and why they were doing it. he was rambling and rambling about how this traditon started, what were the gifts and trinkets he bought for his mom, and some tips on how to make the calendar look prettier while you were there staring and listening to him with a lovestruck gaze! bachira kind of noticed how quiet you were and that he was talking "wayyy too much" so he apologized. you were caught off guard a bit and gave him quick kiss before asking him if the two of you could do it for this christmas. oh BOY was he happy!!!! he was squealing and screaming like a teenage girl, not too forget he was hugging you tightly!

that same afternoon, you both went to the mall and bought each other the gifts and trinkets you were going to put in the other's calendar. you bought bachira soccer-related trinkets, his favorite sanrio character's merch, chocolates, a new black shirt, and an ugly christmas sweater! bachira on the otherhand bought you all sorts of things. at first, he's buying you blind boxes, the next, he's buying you an obnoxiously expensive jellycat. don't forget the trinkets too! on the way back to the car, he saw this really pretty white rock so he picked it up! but unfortunately for him, bachira tripped and the rock fell on the ground and cracked open. when he went to pick it up, his face was the embodiment of "😮" because the rock turned out to be a geode of some sort!

bachira was rather working hard for this advent calendar, he wanted this one to be special. all just because of you. he wanted you to be so happy with what he bought that you'd want to continue this tradition for the next years he'll be with you! you on the otherhand were rather stumped on how you were going to make the overall presentation of his calendar, then you recalled what he was rambling about earlier and BOOM. an idea popped into your head! and before the two of you knew it, it was already past midnight. you were both working hard to create a memorable advent calendar for each other and it really showed once the two of you started to open day 13!

bachira opened his first to find out that you got him a... pompompurin keychain! it was the first time he's ever gotten something like that so as his way of saying thank you, he hugged you ever so tightly while peppering your face with kisses. now it was your turn, bachira started to become anxious because the gift he had put in for this day didn't seem as amazing as yours. though all his worries faded away like smoke when you squealed the same way he did, you had gotten a crystal geode! a gorgeous, sparkly one to be specific. when you asked him why he'd gotten you this, he explained the silly incident that happened yesterday. you both shared some laughs and kisses after, clearly happy with the presents received from one another.

bachira was excited for the days to come, not because he was going to get gifts but because of you. your expression, your squeals, your beaming smile, and your shining eyes were the best gift he could ever receive. no amount of money could do that to him, no other person could do that him, only you did.

note ; this stayed in my drafts for so long i swear fungi started to form...

[whateverisbeautiful]

I love waking up and reading your Richonne posts. You pretty much hit on every scene and I am so thankful for that.

Could you go over maybe a 2 part take of what you think had happened during the months of them getting to know each other during the prison times. Also, the months they got close together in Alexandria before they became official. Since, the show robbed of us seeing those scenes. I would love to hear your detailed theory on it because you know these two characters so well!

A 2-parter? You’re speaking my language, anon. 😋 Thank you for this message. 🙏🏽 And for some reason my mind read this ask and added in “a detailed play-by-play” of what I think happened and so that’s pretty much what I ended up writing. Starting with Part One - the time in between Seasons 3 and 4 at the prison that led to Rick and Michonne being like this in the season 4 premiere ⬇️💗:

I always like to think about what specific context from the actual show could most inform these type of unseen scenarios and then shape what I envision from there. So I first started thinking about where Rick and Michonne landed in the season 3 finale. 

If I remember correctly they both rode in the car together after saying their goodbyes to Andrea, and Daryl drove the bus. I feel like that car ride might have laid another small stepping stone toward growing Rick and Michonne’s fondness for each other. I don’t imagine that they even talked much in the car because it was a somber vibe after losing Andrea. But I can picture Rick seeing Michonne quietly emotional in the car, and for reasons he’s not fully aware of yet seeing her upset affects him and his want to comfort her is stronger than he’d expect.

I can picture something like when they pull up to the prison after Woodbury, Rick just lets her know that Andrea isn’t the only one who thinks it’s good that Michonne found them. And the silence after is so clearly his “I’m glad too.” But you know how back then Rick tended to say something that felt like it was almost going to be a profession about his fondness for her but then he’d sorta retreat - I think he’d do that and just add that they all are glad she’s with them. And Michonne would just give an appreciative smile and walk away because she’d still be pretty heartbroken over losing yet another person she cared about. 

Then I think going forward, that loss, on top of the loss of her boyfriend and baby, makes Michonne maintain a friendly distance from everyone in team family for a while. Like she’s always keeping herself busy by independently tending to tasks that help around the prison, going on runs, and trying to track down The Governor. But Rick still keeps an eye on her from afar.

And if I remember correctly, because it’s been a minute since I’ve watched these seasons, Rick and Michonne both weren’t members of that new committee that was formed. So I can imagine that maybe there were times when some of the other people closest to them were in meetings or away which may have prompted Rick and Michonne to chat a bit more - but still keeping it light and brief, not having extended conversations yet. Perhaps both would find themselves observing each other at times - Michonne seeing Rick out farming, Rick seeing Michonne out taking down walkers around the prison’s perimeter. Except maybe not watching her with binoculars this time lol.

Then, going off of info from s4, I think during these months that we didn’t see something that might’ve slowly but surely made Michonne lessen some of her lone wolf ways is when Daryl asks her to join him on runs. She agrees to go with him and they build a friendship.

And then whenever Michonne is back at the prison she starts getting closer to Carl too because they bond over things like books and comics. And perhaps Michonne and Carl especially bond when she brings back a bag of candy for him after one of her runs. They share some together and learn Michonne doesn’t mind the stale M&M's, and that becomes a running joke between them. 😊

So with Michonne getting closer to two of the people closest to Rick - Carl and Daryl - that starts bringing Rick and Michonne around each other more often too in a more social context. And this is where that crush we saw had clearly formed by the s4 premiere really starts taking root.

Like Michonne and Carl build this really natural, lighthearted, playful rapport and then it leads to Michonne lightly joking with Rick too. I picture that Rick is a bit bashful around her but they still occasionally have that flirty subtle-but-not-subtle “must’ve been something else then”/“you want to drive” type exchanges.

And Daryl definitely peeps these moments at times and knows you don’t even have to be an observant tracker to pick up on the stuff between Rick and Michonne. But he keeps those observations to himself...for the most part lol.

Michonne has playful banter with Daryl too but subconsciously she can feel that her exchanges with Rick feel different. And Rick loves it whenever Michonne spends time with them around the prison. It feels like family. 

Other TWD scenes that I think give a glimpse into what that time between s3 and s4 might've looked like are when Rick asks if she’s okay after she hurts her ankle, and when Rick washes up and asks if Michonne needs help with cleaning up those walker bodies. Lots of exchanges like that going on. Showing they care and like each other but are moving slowly toward really getting close.

And through these exchanges - of which it’s rarely ever just the two of them in private because Carl or people are usually always around - Rick and Michonne start to pick up on more and more things they like about each other.

I like to imagine that perhaps whenever the community had some downtime in the evenings or nights, it’d so often end up being Michonne, Carl, and Rick hanging around each other. With Judith there too sometimes, who Michonne seems to keep this subtle distance from as the baby triggers too painful a wound. 

But when Michonne starts to really care for them and feels herself getting closer to them - finding herself thinking about Rick and Carl while on runs and looking forward to their little exchanges - she starts going out further and further to look for the Governor - and subconsciously, part of that is to distance herself.

Rick isn’t crazy about her going off alone to find a certified madman but only really shows his disagreement in facial expression and maybe an occasional remark to Daryl about how he wants her to be safe. (And Daryl knows Rick wants that and more when it comes to Michonne, ijs.).

Maybe one time Rick does mention to Michonne that she doesn’t have to go out so much or so far but she’s adamant that it is something she has to do - hence why she makes that “It’s worth a shot" comment when she’s talking to Rick and Daryl in the s4 premiere.

She might already know Rick feels a type of way about her going on these missions cuz he briefly mentioned it before (and because he can't help but wear his emotions right on his face lol), but her subconscious also knows that staying around Rick too long is too vulnerable and wakes up too much within her that she thought died a while ago. 

Finally, I picture that there’s one night when Rick, Michonne, and Carl are just enjoying some downtime chatting together as usual but then either Carl falls asleep or somehow he leaves to talk with one of the kids around the prison and it’s a rare moment where it’s just Rick and Michonne together.

And that night they start talking on a more personal level. They don’t divulge their life stories or anything because I don’t think they really deep-dived into getting to know each other like that until the second half of season 4. But in this conversation, they do open up just a bit more and give more insight into how they think and operate, which they refreshingly find to be quite similar. And in the areas they learn that they’re different - they find that refreshing too.

And I like to think that their talk on this one night was one of those things where -  you know how people say they were conversing with their person in the early stages of getting to know them and they just never wanted the moment to end and they could have stayed talking to that person forever and damn near do talk to them for more hours than they realized? It was like that. 

Rick and Michonne both know in the deeper parts of their psyche that spending that time together just felt right. Falling for each other is still something they're doing subconsciously rather than cognizantly at this point, but what they are aware of is that they do enjoy each other a lot. And how right it feels to spend time with each other also subconsciously scares them a bit. Almost like it’s too right too fast. So those walls go right back up after that conversation ends and they don’t really get a chance to talk on that personal of a level again until the prison falls.

Even though deep down both of them really would like to have that time together again, and low-key Rick is so eager for another chance to just be around her like that, that just hearing her riding back from one of her outings has him springing up from his farming session with Hershel in order to run and greet her and ask if she’s going to stay a little while. 

And that’s my take on what I think happened between Richonne in the time between season 3 and season 4. 👌🏽😌

And Anon, you know you’ve tempted me with a good time by asking to have a part two about the time between No Way Out and Richonne’s canon episode The Next World. So I'll try and have a (possibly less lengthy 😅) Part Two on the way soon. 😊

[inksandpensblog]

The way Dark's virabands work has always intrigued me. Chiefly because, as you said, he never uses his innate fire-powers again once he's equipped them. But another reason is because he moves so differently.

Compare him flying with fire to him flying with the virabands. With fire, he's relying on propulsion to hold him up; meaning that his arms are taking all his weight, and you can see this in how he moves.

Once he equips the virabands though, it's like he becomes...not weightless, exactly, because he's not floating unchecked or being moved by the slightest force; but it's not taking any effort for him to stay in the air, it's not taking and effort for him to move through the air, and it's not taking any effort for him to remain stationary in the air. It's like normal rules of physics just...stopped applying to him.

And then there's the fact that when he first equips one, we see it in his eyes.

In animated media, changes to a character's eyes are often used to indicate some sort of (often unnatural) shift in the character's state of being. Maybe their eyes begin glowing, or turn a different color, or their anatomy changes, or what have you.

Now, we don't usually see the stickfigures' eyes, so it always stands out when we do. Given that, once Dark equips the viraband, we immediately see it in his eyes...it seems telling.

These two factors, the eye symbolism and the change in how Dark physically interacts with the environment, combined with the fact that we don't see him using his innate fire-powers after he's equipped the viraband, have led me to interpret Dark's virabands as being almost sort of a mod-pack.

Yes, they give him some new abilities and weapons. But I wonder if these aren't things the virabands do, so much as they are things that Dark can do because of the virabands.

He can summon spikes, he can wied katars, he can remote-control his swarm. He can use laser-eyes. He can move in whatever direction he wants without resistance. All things he couldn't do before.

But I see him throwing those black energy-blasts and I wonder if maybe he is still using his fire, and the virabands just...changed it.

I think it's not as simple as the virabands themselves having all these abilities. I think having the virabands equipped fundamentally changes Dark himself and what he is capable of. They don't just give him stat-boosts and weapons, they alter his state of being.

At least that's how I interpret them.

I've noticed some misconceptions about how Dark's powers work in my time in the fandom, some of which I believed myself, so I thought I'd make a post going over their powers and how they seem to work within AvA canon. I'm mostly just making this for my own reference, but hopefully this will be useful for other people too 👍

(For the record, I'm not trying to call out or criticize anyone by making this, it's purely for reference purposes. You do whatever you want when writing/drawing stuff)

Without Wristbands

Without the wristbands introduced in The Showdown, Dark only has three* powers that we're ever shown, compared to the four+ that Chosen has, which I will describe below.

The power they use the most is pyrokinesis, much like Chosen has. They can create fire, and use fire to fly.

They're also shown to be able to breathe fire like Chosen does, despite not having a visible mouth (ie. A pac man mouth).

Dark can also create what I can only think to call fire bombs, and has done so in every episode they've appeared in. These are unique to them and Firefox, and Chosen is not shown to share this ability, (which leads me to believe that this is not directly linked to their shared pyrokinesis abilities).

*I'm not sure if this counts as one power or two, but I'm going to talk about them as two facets of one power.

Dark and Chosen both seem to possess some sort of heightened physical resilience, as well as super strength. Being thrown through walls, and throwing others through walls, with little to no actual damage being sustained.

(It's difficult to get proper screenshots of this, but you can see it in just about every scene the two are part of.)

There's also. whatever the hell this attack was. which I can only think to put under this section, because they never do anything like this again.

At no point is Dark shown to have laser eyes as part of their normal powers.

With Wristbands

With the wristbands, Dark's power set completely changes. They're never shown using their normal powers again after this point, which leads me to think they may not be able to, though that's 100% speculation on my part.

They gain a number of new abilities, as well as a boost to their physical strength and resilience, seeming to surpass Chosen's abilities. Specific powers and abilities are described below.

They gain multiple abilities previously used by the Virabots, including the ability to fly/levitate without the use of fire (which they could not do previously), and summon spikes that delete things they hit.

There's also some things that seem to be unique to them in this state, namely being some sort of black energy balls they can throw, laser eyes of their own, and, most iconically, the ability to summon the V blade.

The exact properties of these abilities (minus the blade) are unclear.

The V blade, however, is a sharp, sword-like weapon, which has the ability to cut through and instantly destroy normal stick figures, reducing them to code. It, alongside the Virabots themselves, also seems to severely weaken both Chosen and Alan's cursor, ultimately destroying the latter and kicking Alan out of the battle.

Dark seems to be able to easily outpace Chosen with the wristbands on, throwing them around and eventually pinning them down with the help of the Virabots.

It also appears that they may have gained an immunity/resistance to Chosen's laser eyes, or at least they're less concerned about them. Previously in both AvA 3 and The Showdown, they're shown to run away and avoid being hit by the lasers, but after putting on the wristbands, they tank laser beams with no hesitation.

I don't really have much of a conclusion to this post, so I'll leave it here for now. Hopefully this is useful, or at least interesting, to others! ✌

[recluserat]

Hey, It's the Dwayne/Michael anon again. I'm curious...what do you imagine the dynamic to be between these two? As in, who makes the first move? Who's the most assertive/dominant in the relationship? Who confesses their feelings first? etc etc. And how did you think up this ship? Sorry if it's too many questions, it's just that you've gotten me hooked on these two lol

ooooooo anon, welcome back! I love these questions but I am going to be so honest with you that prior to seeing this ask I had not thought this hard about the ship. I have been going purely based off vibes and the gut feeling that those two ppl need to be kissing posthaste. That being said, I love this ask bc it made me actually sit down and think about the way I view these two as both characters and as a couple so here are my new answers: 1. Whenever I think of the two of them the ship dynamic that comes to mind is "silent and stoic x perpetually confused". At the same time though, I think Dwayne is an instigator who will nudge Paul and Marko with little comments and then sit back and watch the drama unfold. Meanwhile I feel like when it comes to the vamps, Michael doesn't really know what's going on but he keeps managing to get himself wrapped up in their shit. He likes to instigate as much as Dwayne does but he's not smooth enough with it to not be dragged along and also his big brother instincts kick in sometimes and he feels like he should back them up. Only sometimes though. Other times he's perfectly happy to sit back with Dwayne and laugh at the others. 2. I think that Dwayne would flirt with Michael first, but once Michael registers that this man is flirting with him he's 100% committing to it and will flirt harder than Dwayne. Dwayne has been around Santa Carla for a while and is like... Apex Predator Mode so I think he wouldn't be afraid to flirt with someone who catches his eye. Meanwhile Michael is new to town, probably not going to be making any moves on strangers straight off the bat yk. But once Dwayne opens that door Michael is fully tossing himself through it. 3. I have so many different Dwayne/Michael stories swirling around in my mind right now that I can't for sure say who I think would definitively always be the one to confess first, but I have imagined the different ways they would do it. I think Dwayne would do his best to use his actions rather than his words, acts of service/physical touch stuff first. He would give Michael special treatment ie. always buys him food on the boardwalk, give him first dibs on anything he wants, always finds excuses to be close to Michael and have his hands on him in some way whether that's fixing the collar of his jacket or just resting his hand over Michael's shoulder while they're standing around. If he HAS to verbally say it I think it would be quiet. Something short and straight to the point while also being flirty, smting like "You know you drive me crazy" or smthing while being all up in Michael's personal space. Meanwhile, with Michael I think he would also do the whole physical touch thing, but less consciously. He starts gravitating to Dwayne without even noticing - parks his bike next to him, sits with him on the couch, always looks to Dwayne first when one of the other guys makes a crazy suggestion to see what Dwayne thinks. I think that whenever Michael does verbally confess it would be big, and somewhat aggressive. Fists full of Dwayne's jacket while his voice is raised talking about how he felt watching someone else put their hands on him, sloppy kisses, that sort of thing. I like to picture the level of emotion that Michael had in the movie when he confronted David on the boardwalk with the whole "where's Starr?" thing. But because he's Michael I think he wouldn't even realize that he liked Dwayne like that until that big explosion. TBH, I'm not really sure where this ship came from. I feel like with TLB there's only so many ships you can do that involve Michael and the vamps. I've read a bunch of stuff on Ao3 and the most common ships I see are David/Michael, David/Starr, Michael/Starr, and poly vamps+michael. I love rare pairs and Dwayne is my favorite character so one day I was just kinda like... what if.....????? and started writing about the two of them together. Thank you for this ask! I have so many more ideas for Dwayne/Michael stuff now that I have to go write down somewhere

[daenysthedreamersblog]

SECRETS OF US - V

i love you, im sorry

you were the best but you were the worst

as sick as it sounds, i loved you first

i was a dick, it is what it is

a habit to kick, the age-old curse

masterlist // previous chapter // next chapter

summary: fate was a funny thing, it seemed to be incessantly chasing you in the form of a kiss intent on being your doom

pairings: modern!coriolanus snow x reader

warnings: MDNI! swearing, smut (we are so back), fingering, handjob

You just need to breath, if you can breath you'll be okay.

His knuckle brushes against yours.

Inhale. Exhale.

His thumb traces your bottom lip.

Inhale. Inhale. Exhale.

He breaths you in.

Fuck breathing, and fuck Coriolanus Snow.

You can't stop thinking about him, about the taste of his warm breath, how you wanted to swallow it down like you needed it for air. You didn't even want to know when that had suddenly appeared within you, how you could only focus on him. On the strange comfort you found when your face rested in his hand, how his eyes suddenly softened when they took you in.

You dig deep, you try to remember hating him, you try to hate him, but its so hard to feel those feelings even after reminding yourself of the long burning history written in the stars.

"Flickerman wants you out there." One of the costume designers says to you, and by the looks of it she had been saying it for a while and you simply weren't listening. 

"Okay." You nod watching as she smooths down the pretty dress she put you in for the play's rehearsal. "Okay." You flex your fingers, ignoring the sweat in your palms, and walk out of the dressing room. You knew what scene was today, the one he had finally wanted to rehearse again, and you knew you could only run so fast from his lips before fate caught you.

He's standing center stage holding a folded back script, brows furrowed as he reads. He's wearing a white button up and black tie loose around his neck, a costume, a part, you had to remember that. He finally looks up at you, blue eyes dark as they take you in, his normal smug smirk appears, the feel of animosity attempting to come back between you two, "You look hideous."

You glare. You're so pretty when you glare at me.

The blush tinged your cheeks at the remembrance of his husky words.

Flickerman claps his hands, "Alright folks!" He walks across the stage towards you. "Let's get romantic."

Your stomach turns and you were annoyed by his excitement towards your displeasure. You know your face is scrunch in disgust as his elbow nudges you, "Come on he's not that bad." He wasn't but you were regretting not dropping out sooner in order to not deal with this, not deal with your heart pounding with anticipation, and maybe that had been his whole big plan to chase you away all along. "Okay action!" He runs from the stage to take his spot in the fourth row back.

Coriolanus cleared his throat allowing you both a moment to slip into your characters. He's in front of you the next second, hand slipping up to your cheek, "Please," His face seemed pained, "Don't."

"Don't what?" Your forehead creases.

Eyes flicker around your own, "Leave...just yet."

"Give me a reason to stay." You whisper.

He swallows. "I...I..."

Your hand goes to his wrist to slowly pull it from your face, "Even now the truth scares you so."

"The truth isn't the issue." His brows furrow as he stares down at your intwined hands. "It doesn't matter what I feel, what I want, we can never be together. It would be better to let me go, let me let you go."

You drop his hand, "Is that what you want? For me to never think about you?" You take a step back, "To live a lie?" He nods slowly, "Then teach me. Teach me how to not feel this way."

He scoffs. "I wish I knew how. I'm consumed by you, undone by you..." He blinks and you think its because he is adding in dramatic flair but his blue eyes quiver. He forgot his lines, he forgot...He stares at you, through you as if he could see every fractured part. "I burn for you."

That wasn't the line, wasn't his characters words. You're moving before you can think, hands coming to cup along his neck. He's rigid and his brows furrow in anger. You're searching his eyes, his face, and realize he's not angry at you and he didn't forget his lines at all. "Say it." You whispered. "Say it was real." The hatred or whatever weird thing was going on right now, you're not sure. You need him to admit to something, and maybe then you could too.

His hand shoots out to grab your face walls going up behind his eyes as he growls out, "You're a fool."

"Then tell me you hate me." 

You're surprised Flickerman hasn't stopped whatever mess this was. Coriolanus opens his mouth, but closes it shortly after.

A breathless laugh leaves you,"You really do want me." You glance around his face, "And you hate it."

"You're just a habit I need to kick."

You barely have time to inhale before he kisses you and suddenly the world seems to cave in on itself in that moment of contact. Time slows, you're lost in it for that strand of connection with him, in soft lips, in fingers tangled in the base of your hair. You were two stars colliding taking the world with it in a single kiss. It burns through your skin, exploding within you like a supernova engulfing everything you've ever known in blue flames. Your mouths are moving, melding together, tongues sliding between teeth, brain reeling with utter nothingness, but him.

"Cut!" The two of you snap apart, faces flushed as you take in a blank expression on Flickerman's face. You open your mouth to apologize, to explain, but his face breaks into a grin. "That was...perfect! I love this direction, did you two come up with this?"

He shakes his head, "Uh...no uh that-!"

"Improv? I love it!" He's beaming. "I'll pencil this all in you two are truly in-tuned with your..." You can't hear him over the ringing in your ears, over the harsh pounding in your chest. 

You glance over at Coriolanus who's staring at a wooden plank on the floor completely dissociated from the same reality. Theres a gentle furrow in his brows and you wonder what emotions are causing him to disappear into the back of his mind.

You go through the motions of the rest of rehearsal, not even present as you get undressed to put on your normal clothes. You wanted to get out of your head, wanted to stop thinking about him this way, it was impeding on everything.

The harsh chill breaks everything up as you focus on walking forward down the street tucked deep beneath layers of wool. You tuck into yourself deeper feeling colder and colder the farther from the building you walk. The only thing scorching hot seemed to be your lips, still numb from a kiss you should have never received, a kiss that would always haunt you. You tug the door of the store open relishing in the warmth spreading throughout the rest of your body.

You take your hand out of your pocket, pulling the glove off with it and your phone. You search for your friends' names. You need to call them, divulge your withering soul to them; instead you tuck it back into your pocket. Not yet...not yet. You're not sure how to even begin that conversation with yourself, let alone your friends.

You peruse the racks of clothing trying to lose yourself in retail therapy instead of thinking about Coriolanus's hands running through your hair, the feel of his tongue in your mouth. Your cheeks are heating at the mer thought of it, at the taste of him, at wanting more of it. You chew on your cheek, fingers mindlessly pushing hangers around not entirely all there.

The door's chime goes off and the energy shifts inside of the store. You know it's him, you just know. You could always tell when he entered the room, even before...this. His presence demanded attention, before it had been fierce loathing, but now it seemed to be intrigue...curiosity. You had two options: pretend like nothing ever happened on that stage, or run.

You look up at him as he stands on the other side of the rack. "It's freezing out there." He says so casually; it makes you forget how soft his lips had been against yours.

"Yeah." Your eyes dart to said lips before back at his face.

"What are you looking for?" He motions to your hands still resting on hangers.

You try to shrug. "Nothing really."

He smirked, "Then why are you in the men's section." You suddenly look down at your hands resting on men's dress shirts. You step back not even realizing you had been in the wrong section. His deep chuckle follows you as you step around him, "Hey," His hand softly lands on your arm. "Want to go get a coffee?"

Yes. "I uh..." You close your eyes. You did, you wanted to go and talk to him about what happened, make sure it was nothing, make sure it was something. You're not sure what you're looking for in a conversation, so you choose option two finally. "I have to meet up with Clem in a bit."

He drops his hand, face hardening. "Tell her I said hi."

You smile softly before turning and running from him.

You know it's wrong, but you do it anyways as your fingers run through strands of white blonde hair, as your tongue slips into his mouth, as the whole stage goes up in flames to hide the burning hidden desire sparking from your chest.

You needed to stop, needed to peel yourself off of him before Flickerman, or yourself for that matter realized this was more than just acting.

Because what else would explain the need of him?

It's a disaster, nothing but bad news as you use every chance you can get to kiss him, let him kiss you, let him pull you against his body and connect it all. Rehearsal after rehearsal you're jumping his bones, and maybe he is letting you, as the kisses last longer, as you start to feel swept away in it all. Maybe he's just as weak.

You were right, I am just as loathsome and lonely as you.

Once you finally able to detach yourself from him the true horror started as you would stare at your dark ceiling warding off sleep thinking of him, what this all meant, what had it ever meant, and the worst of all; was this some big ploy to reel you in to then destroy you once and for all. The last one kept you awake long into the night.

But as soon as you're back on stage with him you're lost once more, sucked into a black hole of him, time a forgotten existence as your hands twist into the fabric of his shirt. It felt good, too good to be true, that an enemy had somehow given you a perfect kiss, passion and longing driven from the depth of fire fueled hatred. 

He consumed you and for once you ignore every warning thrown your way, even your own, it didn't matter, only this, only him. The very fabric of reality was shifting, changing from this very moment, and you knew, you had known the minute you began walking towards him that day nothing would ever be the same. You forgot to care. You couldn't care, not as his hands slid into your hair, not as his tongue explored your mouth, as his body pressed against yours.

But Flickerman would yell cut and that has you shooting backwards away from him electricity still zapping through your lips as you traced them. You stare at him with heavy breaths taking in his darkened eyes and flushed cheeks knowing you looked just as wild. You needed to say something, anything, but words failed and all you could do was run from him, run from the expression lingering around his face. You knew joy, anger, confusion, sadness even, but you couldn't place the one he would get once you finally separated yourself from him.

Everything comes crashing down on your little slice of delusion when your seated on a prop couch with him. He's too close, the body heat radiating off of both of you, his cologne, a smell you had always gagged at, now smelled too delightful. You know he's going to kiss you, know you've been waiting on baited breath for action to be called, dreaming of him swallowing you whole.

You avoid looking at him as he pulls you closer by the back of your neck. You watch him lick his lips and then your mouth is on his. One hand slips around his neck to pull him closer as his tongue explores your mouth like you weren't being watched by classmates. Because that's how it felt, like you two were committing arson together, watching the world burn around you taking this stupid theater with it. 

His hand traces a line down the back of your ear. Your hand trails over his thigh fingertips accidentally moving too high, brushing slightly against his hardening cock. 

Your name falls from his lips like a man sent to worship.

He freezes, you freeze.

You pull back looking up at him, watching every strange emotions pass through his blue eyes until it settles back onto a familiar anger. You pull back further, no he wasn't angry, not really. 

It was fake.

You let him go and sit up as rehearsal continues on around you. You disappear into the back of your mind as questions and doubts spin around everything you ever knew, and nothing you wanted to know it all.

"To stop feeling this way, to know it doesn't always lead to ruin." 

"You're so pretty when you glare at me."

"Burn me until I'm nothing but ashes."

Little seeds scattered across a ruinous timeline that had started long before the bones of this earth, or so it felt. You're spinning out the whole way home avoiding ever looking in his direction as you leave.

You peel at the skin on your nails while you try to distract yourself from everything that had happened. You want to call your friends, spill you roiling guts to them. You wanted to call him, see him, understand him, kiss him.

You opened a bottle of wine instead, turned your phone off, and put on some horrible reality show. What did it all mean? You couldn't seem to find the answer within the depths of your own mind, you couldn't find sense. You winced as the skin gave way, blood bubbling up from the small self-inflicted wound, so you stood up heading for your bathroom to grab a bandaid out from under the sink.

Once wrapped, you head back to stew in anxiety when you stop, eyeing the book still sitting peacefully on your nightstand. You're walking towards it before you can think about it, tracing the title, flicking through pages you had read too many times with thoughts of him. You bought the book the day he has recommended it in class, you figured it was some way to thwart him, embarrass him by proving how stupid the book was, prove you knew more than him. You dragged your bandaged finger along highlighted sentences when the knock sounds down the hall. You know it's him when your heart jumps in your chest, the book now suddenly pressed against it as you go to open the door to him. 

Say something. 

"Regret giving me your address huh?" He chuckles taking in the sight of you, the book clutched underneath flimsy bandaids and chewed nails.

You're still holding the door open, you could close it, end this tragedy before it even begins. "You do come here a lot."

He coos, "You keep letting me in." His smile falters as he takes a step backwards. "Take a walk with me." He nods down the hallway. You should say no, you should force him to have a conversation with you right here, right now...or never if you wanted. Close the door. You set the book down on your counter, grab your coat, and follow him.

The door closes behind you.

It is silent for the most part as you; white flakes gently floating around you under midnight blue skies. You hear the faded honks, various distant yelling from pedestrians, more useless noise. "Jungle of background chatter." He smiles over at you reminding you of your spilled guts over sacred sand.

"Those poor boats." You tuck your hands deep into your pockets. "Trapped in ice."

He chuckled, "Nah, they sailed away somewhere warm."

You glance up, at the street lights, at the buildings towering overhead. "Some always stay."

"I guess so." He's watching you, you can tell by his voice turned towards you. "If they had a reason to."

You look over at him. "How unfortunate for us, to be stuck in this frozen city while they get flee to warmer waters." You sighed, "I should have went with them." Flee the cold, flee your mind, flee from this man confusing everything you thought you knew.

"There's still time."

You shook your head, "I'm trapped like those poor little boats."

He snorted, "You're not a boat." He cleared his throat looking down at his feet, "Don't stay stagnant."

"I move where he tells me." Your shoulders brush.

He stills, "Then stop listening."

The clouds shift, white light cutting through the clouds and you take in the bright moon. You wanted to tell him you had been, tell him it was the one thing you were horrible at, sob out your story how it pained you to stretch the tether between you and your father, how for some reason you couldn't cut it for foolish selfish insecurities. You watch the snow fall, watch it catch in his hair, on his eyelashes. You wish you knew how to be weak, how to bare your soul to someone who had once been a threat, know that he wouldn't betray your trusted secrets. You wonder if you ever could, and for that reason you find yourself stepping away from him despite the warmth of his presence next to yours.

You shiver. "I am freezing though." You nodded back the way you came, "Can we head back?" You head back around towards your block curling inside your coat more as your breath swirls around you. He holds the door open for you as you hurry inside your building taking the stairs to warm up quicker enjoying the heat blasting through the vents. He's behind you, following you silently up the stairs like a shadow.

You fling your door open hanging your coat back up and blowing into your hands. You scoop up the book again, intent on settling it back on your nightstand when the sound of your door closing isn't heard. You turn back to see him, "Are you going to invite me in?" He's standing at the threshold; reality at a breaking point as his foot teeters along the edge of everything.

"You're not sly Snow." 

He watches you as you take a few steps away, "I can keep my hands to myself kitten. I'll be good."

"When have you ever been good." You rolled your eyes.

"Touché."

He crosses the room in one quick stride smashing your lips to his the book clattering to floor beneath you. It's heated and intense and filled with unrestrained feeling. You felt it all like a freight train hitting you as you open your mouth for him to delve inside of. You should have felt weary, embarrassed, strange, but all you felt was want, for him, for this. His hands grab on your hips and he's moving, pushing you until your legs hit the couch and you're falling, falling, falling...

He's there, hands around your body, teeth grazing down your neck as your pulse throbs beneath skin. You're shoving at his shirt, opening it up to run hands down his bare chest, as he pushed yours up until a hand cups your breast. A sigh is breathed onto your collarbone as he kneads his hand into the flesh of you and a few seconds later he sinks his teeth into the bone. He slithers fingers behind you unclasping your bra to let the fabric bunch up around your chest. It should be awkward, but he doesn't care as he drags his mouth over your bare nipple. 

You moan as his tongue swirls around the bud and his fingers dig into you harder. Your back arches, his hand toying with the other one, running his fingers around it as you tug on his hair. And too soon, he's pulling back, hair mused from your hands and blue eyes dark and heavy. You'd never seen him look like this, look at you like this; your head spins. Suddenly that unfamiliar expression comes into view with clarity; want, it had been want on his face every moment you were forced to break away.

He unbuttons your pants, but stops you before you can tug them off. "Not like this." Is all he says gently pushing your wrist away. 

"How do you want me?" It's whispered and you sound too desperate. You don't care, you were desperate.

He chuckled to himself as his hand disappeared beneath your waistband and long fingers run down wet folds. "Truthfully?" You nod as you chew on your bottom lip. "Tied to my bed where no one can hear you scream for me." He pushed his fingers into you and your head falls back with a curse. "Just me." He's curling his fingers, pushing them in and out of you with delicious precision. You're clawing down his muscled chest, feeling the rub of his palm against your clit sending shockwaves up to your skull. "That feel good?"

"Yes." You groan out tiling your hips to take his hand in deeper. "Let-Let me..." You're fighting with the button of his pants to dig your hand into them stroking a palm down his hard length. 

"Fuck." He stutters as your hand slides along him as his hand starts to fuck you harder. You swirling around his cock, twisting your hand at a too awkward angle to run your hand along the whole thing while he pressed down hard at your clit feeling warm starlight burning under your skin.

He leaned down swallowing your breathless moans, shoving his grunts down your throat. It's all spit and teeth and sighs of pleasure until finally his grip bruised you with stuttered movements cum spilling along fingers and down your wrist. "Coryo." You moan, back arching as you orgasm soon after.

It's starry eyed and dismantling how the euphoria washes over you underneath someone you had sworn to destroy. Yet, here you were, pleasure dripping out of you for him. When you come to he's staring down at you, hand still buried in your cunt and for a moment you seemed unwilling to let it all go, to move on from the intense moment. Your brain is too mushy to comprehend any of it, to make sense of how bright his eyes seemed as they stared into yours catching breaths. You take your hand back as he pulls his out of you, and then you roll off the couch to wash your hand. As you close the door you see him put his fingers in his mouth and everything burns through you once more.

You stare at yourself, the glazed eyes, the flushed face, the glow from yielded pleasure. You chew on your cheek as you wash your hands, as you splash cool water across hot skin feeling the lingering touch of him everywhere. It's gone the next second dread replacing warmth as cold water runs down your neck; this had been the plan right? To make you give yourself over to him, give your power over to him through moans and spread legs. He's planned it all, faked softness and genuinity to make you put your guard down so he can slip through the gaps of armor. You dry your face and leave the bathroom to face him with walls high and armor tightly back on. He's still seated on the couch chest still exposed, pants still open at the top while he skims the book. Moonlight pour in over him, he looks like a statue of some long dead god, cut from marble, sculpted from precious stone lounging along your couch. He looks beautiful and you miss when you didn't say that about him.

He looked up at you as you stand there rigid; his shoulders sag.

He closed the book, "Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?" You cocked a brow.

"Like you think you know who I am," You opened your mouth but he continued. "And you hate him." He sighed standing up, "Do you always think the worst of me?" 

"I only know that version of you." The cruel enemy you had always kept too close. "What are we doing? What are you doing?" Your eyes narrowed, "Is this all some ploy, some game to entertain a dark place within you?"

He pauses, taking in every feature on your face. "Let me take you out tomorrow night." He stared down at you.

You raised your brow as he avoided your question, "A date?"

"A date." He came closer hand wanting to come up, but he left it at his side, the only indication was the slight twitch in his ring finger. "A proper date." You eyed him suspiciously. "Just you and just me, no more feuding or lying or armor, just us. And then I'll answer your question."

"Just us?" You like the word too much.

He nodded, "Us."

next chapter coming soon!!

[astracora]

A Mandated Holiday Break - Chapter 5

Characters: Sylus x gn!mc (poly lads)

Warnings: Loose spoilers for 'Mischief' anecdote and Sylus Myth.

Word Count: 1275

Written: 21st December 2024

Notes: Post-relationship Sylus/MC-centric but poly LADs, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

You've passed out, midway through some movie about a man in green visiting some city in search of his father. Sometime during your movie marathon with Sylus, he'd noticed you'd stopped caring what you'd put on. He'd gotten too invested in Die Hard (a Christmas movie, you swore), and had been more than horrified that the inaccuracies didn't bother you.

At that point you'd stopped showing him movies you really loved, instead giggling with glee at making him watch some of the worst or silliest things you could find. To see his nose scrunch, and what you'd (incorrectly) called his snobby rich boy taste.

Of all the movies you could watch, he refused to understand why toilet humour had entertained you so.

It hadn't, he thinks, his inability to not roll his eyes, had been your goal.

Still, the laughter had been worth it. He would do anything to hear it forever, so perhaps he'd let you play terrible movies for the end of time.

As you murmured in your sleep, at which he'd lowered his head to try to make words out. (Something about a farmers market, and a duck?) He'd left your side, reluctant but knowing you needed to eat. Something other than cookies. You'd at least drank the water he made sure was at your side, if he left you alone he thinks you'd subsist off caffeine.

When he untangles himself from you, carefully, so carefully because while he'd love to bring you with him, the bags under your eyes demand more sleep than you've been getting. He checks you over once more, tugging the soft pink blanket over you. (It doesn't match the decor but you'd said pink suited him. He'd given you a look of disbelief... but he hadn't stopped using it since. Despite running a higher temperature than anyone you knew.)

He met the twins in the kitchen, stuffing sugar cookies into their mouths, as soon as they heard the door open. Two pairs of guilty, wide eyes shot to stare.

He's seen raccoons before, digging through food in the bins. He won't compare them, out loud, but the look is similar. "You better hope the doctor doesn't count those." Luke gulps, Kieran fidgets.

There was little the doctor was protective over, or possessive over. Sugar, and the kitten curled up on his sofa, were the two that mattered. He'd also been informed of their presence, waiting for him.

Sylus knows no matter what, even the N109 zone wouldn't keep the good doctor away from either of those things, especially in the same room.

With a smug, little self satisfied purr, he stuffs one of the fresh baked cookies into his mouth.

Food was always better shared, than alone, as he'd learned over the years.

"Is it dinner time?" Luke asks, swinging his legs as he jumps back up on the counter. Watching Sylus grab things from around the room, pulling his phone out to find a recipe he'd been sent by the prince.

'I want to make this.'

'I'm not letting you make it in my kitchen.'

'They'll like it.'

'They won't like the base being set on fire.'

In the end he'd promised to make it instead. If only to save everyone from the prince's electronic based curse.

He nods at the question, and as he watches the two out the corner of his eye, he realises he has no idea when they started living here.

He's aware of the time they've been working for him, he remembers the day he met them vividly. He's deeply familiar with how he felt watching them struggle against Ever's bonds.

The crystals gouged out of skin, the pain, the yearning. It had twisted parts of his chest, and torn at old memories he wished he could forget.

It was never easy to separate from the past, it stayed a part of you even if you desperately wished it wouldn't.

Still, he has no recollection for when they went from visiting for work, to staying, always present unless they wanted to explore together. Talking to him with candour... no, formality was never the twin's forte.

Something had changed, however, and he wasn't sure when.

He follows steps as he muses, though doesn't share his thinking out loud, after all, they seem content to just watch. Sticking leftover crumbs in their mouths, and chattering to each other.

Sylus doesn't really know when making meals for others became like this, he started because it made you happy, he continued because he liked doing it. A simple task, but it garnered praise, and joy. Food was not something he'd needed before, now, however, it was a gift to be shared.

It was simply just as easy to prepare for four (five, as he makes enough to save a plate for the prince), as it was for two.

Kieran hums the song that you were playing earlier, still out of tune, and he has to bite back his laugh, but finds himself joining in. He doesn't remember the words yet he's never discontent for his mind to remember you in every song he ever hears.

"Hey Hunter!"

"Morning!"

You enter the room, rubbing at your eyes, and he finds himself smiling at you easily. It's more a quirk of the lips, and garnet eyes melting, but you smile back as though he's beaming.

Perhaps in his way, he is. He's still unpracticed with joy. With emotions.

Showing them is hard, so he speaks them and he places them into your hands (for your heart to keep) in actions.

He refuses to let you think he is not earnest. Never to lie, never to flatter. You will never doubt his affections, he promises.

As you yawn and pull yourself up onto the kitchen counter, and he wonders why he bothered to buy stools for the bar. None of you seem to use them, content to hover too close. Comment and talk and titter away.

When he'd asked, you'd shrugged. "I like to be tall." You'd teased, kissing his forehead at the height the counter allowed you.

His cheeks had flamed and he'd blinked. Surprised and confused. Until the feeling settled into a burning need. So hungry and desperate and clawing, he'd pulled you in by the back of your neck and bitten, kissed and licked his way up your throat.

Your laughter and sighs had stuck in his head for weeks after.

He found himself wishing you'd do it again, every single time you sat on the counter to watch him cook.

Instead of the twins singing, though you seem to find it entertaining to watch them relax, you reconnect your phone to the sound system he installed in the kitchen.

For you, ever since he visited your own place to see your speakers hooked up on the wall, humming away as you baked bread. Told him music made any task better, even the ones you hated.

Sylus has been so used to solitude his entire life. Before the abyss, after the abyss. He's spent longer alone, than he has with others. Even when he built Onychinus, ground up, clawing and scratching to his makeshift throne, nothing had touched that solitude.

His time in the clouds had been short in comparison. A blip.

A torn out moment as close to bliss as he could ever have thought to get.

This. Here. A low chuckle in his throat, songs in the air, and warmth in his joined heart... he could not bear to trade or lose.

Even when one of the twins, pointing at each other when whirled on, throws a slice of carrot at his head.

[deafeningfanlight23]

I'VE ANGST HEADCANONS CUZ I LIKE MY TSAMS CHARACTERS TRAUMATIZED! >:D

-> When the Bloodmoon-Twins and KC still had this father-son relationship going on, the Bloodmoon-Twins would do anything, and I mean ANYTHING they could just to see KC proud. Because one time, after the Bloodmoon-Twins succeeded in doing something KC wanted, KC patted them on the head. And they felt so much warmth from this simple gesture. They wanted to feel this warmth again and see this flicker in his eyes that said, ”I’m proud of both of you.”

But they’ve never seen it again, no matter how much they tried. Because they died just before they could see their father proud again.

-> When Lunar and Eclipse still were a team and ‘brothers’, Lunar always used to lay across the ground with his legs dangling back and forth while humming nursery rhymes. He would always play with two plushies – One that had depicted Sun, and one that had depicted Moon. But now, they depicted Eclipse and Lunar because Lunar had colored Sun’s rays in an orange and Moon’s hat in a light blue with some markers he had found. Eclipse always saw Lunar playing with them every day although he said to Lunar multiple times that he should just burn them or throw them away. One time, Eclipse even hid the plushies so Lunar would stop wasting his time on some childish toys. But Lunar always found a way to play with them. Eclipse never understood why Lunar was so insistent on playing with some plushies, but after a while of reprimanding him and trying to stop this idiotic thing he was doing, he just dismissed it.

However, he never looked closely at how he played with them. Lunar would make them hold hands, play with each other, give each other pep talks and bump their heads playfully against each other.

They would be friends.

They would be brothers.

Real, actual brothers that loved each other.

Every day, Lunar wished that Eclipse would pick up on what he was trying to say.

But he never did.

And so, Lunar eventually discarded those toys. He can’t recall where they are now.

Sometimes, he thinks about what would have happened if Eclipse wasn’t so dismissive and actually… cared.

And maybe the dusty Lunar-plushie that is underneath Moon’s bed wonders that sometimes, too.

---

Okay, I know whatcha wanna say: I'm GLAD I could make your day happier ;D

ANYGAYS, TUNG! >:D

*Gets Thanos-snapped and vanishes into thin air*

[levi-4uckerman]

satoru gojo x reader // like ghosts in the snow // chapter three

Words: 4.7k ♥ the one where u kiss a lil bit ♥ no TWs, just cute Satoru n some light angst/comfort action Previous chapter :33

╰┈➤This is a Flashback Chapter, but i promise i kept it relevant! no world building or unnecessary characters, just good old fashioned bonding :))

✎ reminder that reader has been given the default name 'shiori myoji'!. you have a clairvoyance technique and a two-year old gojo >;3 enjoy!!

...

Tokyo, Japan / January 2015 (see timeline here)

You saw more of Satoru after the ceremony. He’d find you when you were visiting campus grounds, sometimes bump into you on your way into meetings with the Jujutsu council. It made you a little nervous, knowing that he likely wasn’t finding you by accident, but it wasn’t until he’d somehow gotten ahold of your phone number that you started getting really annoyed.

“You’d better be dying,” you rasped, your voice heavy with sleep. It was nearly midnight, and Satoru had called you three times. You only picked up on the third because you were certain it was an emergency— which it was not. 

“Nah,” he replied coolly. “Just lonely. Whatcha doin’?”

“Gojo, it’s nearly midnight. I’m sleeping.” 

“It’s Satoru off-the-clock, babe,” you could practically hear the smirk in his voice, cringing as you listened to him go on. “Besides, it’s Friday night. Why are you going to bed at old man hours?”

“I have a migraine,” you grumbled. “Don’t you know about those?”

“Of course, I know about migraines,” he replied, his tone shifting slightly as if offended. “I just don’t let them stop me from living my life.”

You groaned, rubbing your temple. “Living your life? You’re calling me at midnight to bother me. How’s that for living?”

“Aw, come on, Shi-chan,” he teased, and you could almost see him leaning back with that stupid grin on his face. “You can’t tell me you don’t secretly look forward to my calls.”

“Gojo—”

“Satoru,” he corrected smoothly.

“Satoru,” you seethed through gritted teeth, “if you don’t give me a real reason for why you’re calling, I’m hanging up.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, just long enough for you to wonder if he took you seriously, but then he exhaled dramatically.

“Alright, alright,” he relented. “You caught me. I wanted to see if you’d come out for food.”

You stared at the ceiling, dumbfounded. “You called me three times in the middle of the night for food?”

“Well, yeah,” he said, as if it were obvious. “You’ve barely eaten today! Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

Your silence must have given you away because he chuckled softly. “You’re predictable, Shi-chan. Always working yourself to death, skipping meals like they’re optional. I’m just doing my civic duty as a fellow sorcerer to keep you alive.”

You rolled your eyes, even though you knew he couldn’t see the gesture. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably thoughtful,” he corrected. “So? What do you say? Midnight ramen? My treat.”

“It had better be,” you shot back. “You’re loaded.”

“Okay, fine,” he replied casually. “I’ll throw in dessert. Come on, it’ll help with the headache. Trust me.”

You sighed, debating whether you had the energy to argue. Honestly, the thought of food was tempting, especially since you had skipped dinner.

“Fine,” you relented, tossing your blanket aside. “But only if you promise not to talk the entire time.”

“No can do,” he said, and you could hear the grin in his voice. “But I’ll promise to be entertaining.”

“Debatable,” you muttered.

Thirty minutes later, you found yourself sitting across from Satoru in a nearly empty ramen shop, wondering how you had allowed yourself to be dragged out of bed for this.

“So,” he grinned at you, twirling his chopsticks expertly. “How’s the migraine?”

You shot him a flat look. “Still there. You’re not helping.”

He laughed, leaning forward on his elbows. “You’ll thank me later when you’re full of delicious ramen and no longer grumpy.”

You huffed but took a sip of broth anyway, the warmth soothing your headache more than you wanted to admit. “This doesn’t mean I’m going to make a habit of this, you know.”

“Of course not,” he asserted, though the mischievous glint in his eyes told you he didn’t believe you. “But you’ll answer my calls next time, right?”

“Only if you’re dying,” you replied, slurping your noodles.

He smirked. “Guess I’ll have to get creative.”

You groaned, but deep down, you knew that you would answer.

And so it began. Your evening outings with Satoru became more frequent, to the point that he’d started to skip the courtesy call. Satoru would knock, and you’d already be dressed, ready to partake in whatever late-night cravings he had in mind. You told yourself it was just for the free meal, a convenient distraction, but that excuse felt thinner every time you walked out the door with him.

You found yourself lingering on the way he leaned back in his seat, one arm slung casually over the backrest as he told an outrageous story about his students. Or the way his face lit up whenever he convinced you to try something new, his grin infectious enough to make you laugh even when you weren’t planning to.

You liked him. Just a little. Enough that you didn’t mind his teasing quite so much anymore, or the way he always made it a point to walk you back home, even when you insisted that you didn’t need an escort.

One evening, Satoru had something different in mind when he showed up unannounced. His bandages were pushed up into his hair, leaving his eyes bare, and he looked… excited. More so than usual.

“What is it?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“Put your shoes on, Shi-chan,” he instructed, waving a hand like he was summoning you. “We’re going out.”

You groaned, crossing your arms. “What are you dragging me into now?”

“Dessert,” he said simply, as if that explained everything.

“Dessert?”

“Not just any dessert,” he clarified, his grin widening. “The best parfaits in the city. Trust me, you’re gonna love it.”

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Is this just an excuse to feed your sugar addiction?”

“Maybe,” he admitted with a shrug. “But I’m not going alone, so get moving.”

With a sigh, you grabbed your coat and followed him out the door, trying to ignore the way your stomach turned when he held the door open for you, smiling expectantly.

The parfait shop was small and tucked away into a quiet alley, lit by warm, glowing lanterns. The moment you stepped inside, the air was filled with the sweet aroma of fresh fruit, whipped cream, and caramel. You couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped you.

Satoru led the way to a booth in the corner, practically bouncing in his seat as he opened the menu. “Look at this,” he enthused, pointing to an elaborate parfait topped with layers of strawberries, matcha ice cream, and tiny macarons. “This one’s calling out to me.”

“That’s enough sugar for three of you,” you muttered, scanning the menu.

“What are you getting?” he asked, leaning over the table. “Ooh, you should try the mango one. Or the chocolate banana. Or the—”

“I can read, Satoru,” you said, cutting him off with a small, reluctant smile. “And I can decide for myself.”

When the parfaits arrived, they were too pretty to eat— almost. Satoru wasted no time digging into his strawberry concoction, humming in satisfaction after the first bite.

“This is the one,” he outright moaned, pointing his spoon at you. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny how good the sweetness in front of you looked. You took a tentative bite of the chocolate banana parfait, and the immediate burst of flavor was enough to make you pause.

“See?” Satoru smirked as he watched your reaction. “Told you.”

On the walk back to your apartment, Satoru insisted on a detour to a nearby taiyaki stand—because, as he so eloquently put it, his daily sugar quota hadn’t been met, parfait notwithstanding. He carried the box of warm, fish-shaped pastries under his arm as you strolled through the quiet streets of suburban Tokyo. His voice filled the air, rambling about something inconsequential, his excitement infectious in the way that only Satoru Gojo could manage.

The gears in your mind turned over as you listened. This felt so familiar, like something you’d watched from a distance long ago. Him, lighting up at the simplest joys. The image of Satoru as a budding adult, walking alongside Suguru Geto, slipped into your mind unbidden. You’d seen him like this before—his shoulders relaxed, his grin easy, his words tumbling out with the same unguarded enthusiasm. Back then, it had been Suguru who tempered his boundless energy, who grounded him just enough to remind him that he was human.

The thought sent an ache through your chest. This wasn’t just nostalgia; it was Satoru searching for something, someone, to make him feel anchored again. Someone to remind him that he wasn’t untouchable. That he wasn’t just the Six Eyes, the strongest sorcerer, but Satoru—flawed, messy, and still yearning for the companionship that had once made him whole. But could that really be you?

And did you want it to be?

When you looked up again, your building was quickly approaching.

“Thanks for coming out,” he said casually, glancing over at you.

“Didn’t have much of a choice,” you replied, but your tone lacked its usual bite.

He smirked. “You say that, but I think you’ve been enjoying our little outings.”

You didn’t respond right away, your eyes focused on the ground again. The truth was, he wasn’t really wrong. You were starting to look forward to these moments—more than you wanted to admit.

“Maybe,” you said softly, and your honesty caught even you by surprise.

Satoru’s smirk faltered for a split second, replaced by something warmer. “I knew it,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.

When you reached your door, he handed you the box of taiyaki. “Here,” he said. “In case you get hungry later.”

“Thanks,” you muttered, taking the box from him. He opened his mouth, and you just knew he was going to say goodbye, so you beat him to it.

“Satoru,” you declared suddenly, a sour feeling gnawing at you from inside. There was something… something you needed to ask. Something you needed clarity on.

He closed his mouth for once, his gaze meeting yours. His eyes were uncovered. Expectant. Like he was waiting on something, too.

“What are we doing?” You spit out, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. “I’m not… do you want something from me?”

“What do you mean, Shi-chan?” He asked, his words light but careful. His eyes were scrutinizing. “I wanted dessert. You came with me. Easy enough, right?”

Not convinced, you shook your head. You stepped closer to him, the sour feeling inside you intensifying. “No, it’s not just that. It’s the phone calls, the showing up unannounced, the--,” you gestured around vaguely with your hand. “This. All of this. What is it?”

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. For once, he didn’t seem to have a quip ready. His silence was as unnerving as it was unexpected, but you pressed on.

“I’m not dumb, Satoru,” You continued. “You don’t just... call people for no reason. You don’t go out of your way--,” you shook the taiyaki box for emphasis, “--for just anyone. So, what is it? Why me?”

Satoru’s jaw ticked almost imperceptibly. The weight of your words hung heavy in the air between you. Satoru ran a hand through is hair, letting out a breath that sounded far too serious for someone like him.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. His voice was uncharacteristically soft. “I think I just... like being around you. Reminds me of simpler times.”

Those words stuck out to you. Simpler times. Because nothing was ever simple with Satoru Gojo.

And yet, as much as you wanted to laugh, to not believe him, you couldn’t. Your breath hitched, and you didn’t respond. Your thoughts flashed back to high school, seeing him and Suguru slinking around campus late at night. How sometimes they’d pass by your dorms, voices hushed but still loud enough to wake you from sleep. Laughing, like they’d just come back from a party and not a first-grade mission.

“I guess that’s allowed,” you finally muttered after a beat, averting your gaze to the ground. You were blushing fiercely, embarrassed with the assumptions you’d made about an old friend. Maybe he really is just... lonely.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and looked up to see him a few paces closer than he was before. His lazy grin was back, but there was still sincerity written across his features. “Goodnight, Shi-chan. I’ll see you around?”

“Night, Satoru,” You replied with a nod, hating the disappointment you felt when he withdrew. You watched him turn and walk away.

When the door closed behind him, you stood in place. Staring at the polished wood. Chewing your bottom lip.

“What the fuck?” you breathed, wondering if this was becoming something dangerous. For both of you.

You saw less of your six-eyed friend after that conversation. In a cruel twist of fate, the steady rhythm of a budding friendship started to falter as work piled up, missions became more frequent, life happened. The late-night knocks at your door stopped, his texts became sporadic, and a familiar hollowness began to take the place of Satoru’s easygoing, persistent presence.

You told yourself that it didn’t matter, that it was for the best. Sorcerers shouldn’t have distractions, right? Especially ones of your respective statures. Alas, it was hard to ignore the ache of his absence… like a thread constantly pulling at the edges of your thoughts. As much as you wanted to banish it from your mind, it always felt like… something was missing. Something with white hair and blue eyes.

Council meetings kept you busy, the higher ups’ usage of your technique was at an all-time high. Your headaches were constant, the need for a break starting to get desperate. One afternoon after one such meeting, you were merely passing through the Tokyo campus when you started hearing things.

The rumors started small, whispered between both staff and students. Murmured in passing, not even bothering to lower their voices when you approached—because why would they? No one knew about your friendship with Gojo, and the way it fizzled out into nothing. All the same, your chest ached to hear that he wasn’t just busy with work, he was… dating someone. Courting with the intention to marry, even, according to several sources on campus.

Not that you had asked them directly.

You knew that the clan was always pushing him to marry, to find a powerful sorceress from a prestigious line of her own, to produce an heir. The idea of him bending to their will—especially when it came to something as archaic as choosing a wife—was laughable. At first.

Eventually, the whispers changed.

You heard about a woman that he was seeing. A young, beautiful sorceress who had been sighted spending time with him. Casual strolls in the city, dinners at fancy restaurants—all of the things you’d expect of a young clan-head seeking out a potential spouse. You heard that she was from a respected lineage, someone that the greater Gojo clan approved of. Someone they saw as worthy of his name.

You heard that she kind of looked like you.

And again, you told yourself that it didn’t matter. You didn’t care.

But it wouldn’t hurt so bad if that were the truth, would it?

Their words lingered in your mind long after you overheard them.

The image of a woman who looked a little too much like you, walking beside him, laughing at his jokes. A part of you wondered if it was intentional, or if it was some cruel trick of the universe.

So when you heard the knock on your door one unassuming evening, your stomach twisted into a knot. You weren’t expecting anyone, but somehow you already knew by the way goosebumps sprouted against your flesh, and the beating of your heart sped up.

And when you opened the door, there he was.

Satoru Gojo stood on your doorstep, a lopsided grin on his face, his white hair falling messily over his forehead. He leaned casually against the doorframe, looking as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

You felt a little naked before him, standing there in your cozy pajama top and bottoms, clearly not expecting visitors. Satoru’s eyes raked over your body shamelessly, but he didn’t comment on your attire. Thankfully.

“Hey,” he said easily, as if he’d just seen you yesterday. “Thought I’d stop by. You know, see if you missed me.”

Your chest tightened, and you fought to keep your voice steady. “What are you doing here?”

He blinked, tilting his head like your question didn’t make sense. “What? I can’t visit anymore?” He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, his hands shoved casually into his pockets. “Besides, you’ve been avoiding me, haven’t you? What’s up with that?”

You stared blankly at him, stunned by the accusation. “Avoiding you?”

“Yeah.” He gave you a pointed look, still grinning. “No texts, no calls. You ghosted me, Shi-chan. Should I be hurt?”

Your frustration boiled over. How could he stand there, acting so normal, like he hadn’t done anything wrong? Like he didn’t even realize—

“I thought you were avoiding me,” you snapped, crossing your arms.

That made him pause, his grin faltering for just a second. “Huh? Why would I do that?”

You shook your head, your emotions threatening to spill over. “Forget it.”

“No, no, wait.” He frowned now, stepping closer. “Seriously, what’s going on? Did I miss something?”

You swallowed hard, refusing to meet his gaze. “I heard things, Satoru.”

He raised an eyebrow, confused. “Things?”

“About you.” Your voice cracked despite your best effort to keep it steady. You turned your face away from them as you added, “And her.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his confusion plain on his face. Then, he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head.

“Oh, that?” he said, still chuckling. “That’s what this is about?”

Your stomach dropped at how easily he dismissed it. “What do you mean, ‘that?’”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You seriously thought I was avoiding you because of her? Come on, Shi-chan. Don’t be ridiculous.”

You clenched your fists at your sides. “Maybe it’s not ridiculous to me.”

“Shi-chan,” he insisted, his tone laced with exasperation. “She’s not my girlfriend. She’s not even someone I’d consider dating.”

“Then what—”

“She’s a pawn,” he interrupted in a serious voice. “A face to keep the clan off my back. They’ve been hounding me about marriage again, and she’s just… convenient.”

You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. “Convenient,” you repeated, your voice hollow.

“It’s not like that,” he said quickly, taking another step closer. “She knows the deal. And trust me, she is being well compensated for her time.”

“Then why didn’t you just tell me that?” you asked, your frustration bubbling over.

“Because I didn’t think it mattered,” he replied with a frown. “I didn’t think you’d care.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe.

“I don’t care,” you scowled, though the ache in your chest betrayed you. “But you can’t just show up here like this, expecting me to—”

“Clearly you do,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be so pissed off right now.”

You snapped your gaze upwards, glaring at him. “I’m not pissed off!”

“Oh, you definitely are,” he mused, a hint of his usual teasing slipping through.

“Satoru,” you hissed, your fists clenched at your sides. “Do you know how humiliating it is to hear something like that secondhand? To have people whispering about you and some perfect sorceress, and I—”

You stopped yourself, biting your tongue before you could say too much.

“And you what?” he questioned, his voice quieter now and his expression unreadable. “Go on, Shi-chan. Say it.”

You shook your head, looking away. “Forget it.”

“Not a chance,” he declared, inching into your space, his voice dropping even lower. “You’ve got something to say? Say it.”

Your chest heaved, the words clawing at your throat, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say them. Instead, you looked up at him, your anger dissolving into something more vulnerable, rawer.

“Why are you here, Satoru?” you asked finally, barely above a whisper

His gaze softened, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m here because I wanted to see you,” he said simply. “And I’m not dating anyone. If I was, you’d be the first to know.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his words. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean,” he said, his lips quirking into a small, almost hesitant smile, “that if there’s anyone I’d want to spend time with, it’s you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, the weight of his words hung heavy in the air.

Satoru shifted, scratching the back of his neck. “So, are you going to invite me in, or do I have to keep defending my non-existent girlfriend on your doorstep?”

But your mind was stuck on those words. If there’s anyone I’d want to spend time with, it’s you.

“Satoru,” you said, wishing you could wash the taste of his name out of your mouth. “You can’t say things like that to a woman. It’s… dangerous.”

Satoru blinked at you, clearly caught off guard by your response. Then, in true Gojo fashion, he tilted his head and smirked, his expression equal parts teasing and curious.

“Dangerous?” he repeated, his tone lighter now but edged with something more serious. “Why’s that?”

You swallowed hard, avoiding his gaze. “Because,” you muttered, your voice just above a whisper, “they might start thinking you mean it.”

“And what if I do?”

Your head snapped up, your eyes meeting his, wide with disbelief. “You’re not serious.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he shot back. His gaze was steady and searching.

You let out a sharp laugh, shaking your head as you stepped back. “Because you’re Satoru Gojo. You flirt with everyone. You don’t mean half the things you say.”

He frowned, his hands sliding into his pockets as he tilted his head again. “You really think that?”

You crossed your arms, trying to hold onto the wall you were so desperately trying to keep between you. “It’s not like you’ve ever given me a reason to think otherwise.”

He sighed, the weight of your words settling between you like a stone.

“Why does it bother you?” He said quietly, a pointed look on his face. “Whether I’m dating someone or not?”

You froze, the question throwing you off guard.

 “I… It doesn’t,” you stammered, your heart racing. “I just don’t think it’s appropriate for you to—”

“To what?” he pressed, stepping closer. “Spend time with you? Talk to you? Care about you?”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you took a step back, your legs hitting the edge of the couch. “Satoru, don’t.” You said, your voice low. Quiet. Nervous.

“Don’t what?” he asked, his gaze fixed on you. “Don’t ask why you’ve been avoiding me? Don’t ask why it bothers you so much that someone said I might be with someone else?”

“I’m not avoiding you." Your voice was weak, your hands gripping the back of the couch for support.

He laughed then, but it was humorless, sharp. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not lying!” you snapped, your frustration bubbling over. “I just—”

“Just what?” he interrupted. “Just don’t care? Just don’t want to admit that maybe you feel something for me?”

Your cheeks burned, your chest heaving as you struggled to find the words to refute him.

“That’s what I thought,” he retorted, his voice almost gentle now.

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered, looking away.

“Maybe,” he said, his voice softening further. “But I’m not wrong.”

You felt his presence closer now, his warmth radiating in the small space between you. When you finally looked up, his blue eyes were piercing, unguarded in a way you’d rarely seen. His face had changed since high school. Still full of boyish charm, but… older now. Handsome. Matured. Not the teenage heartthrob of the Gojo clan that girls were clabbering over each other to flirt with.

And now, his attention was all on you.

“Satoru,” you said, your voice trembling. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face. His touch was featherlight, his fingers lingering for just a moment too long.

You swallowed hard, your heart thundering in your chest as his gaze dropped to your lips. “This is a bad idea,” you whispered, though your words lacked conviction.

“Probably,” he said, his lips quirking into a small, rueful smile. “But I’m full of bad ideas.”

And then he kissed you.

It was tentative at first, as though he was giving you the chance to pull away. But when you didn’t, when your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, his hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer.

The kiss deepened, the world around you fading until all you could feel was him—his warmth, his intensity, the way he seemed to pour everything he couldn’t say into the way his lips moved against yours.

When you finally broke apart, your breaths mingling in the quiet room, he rested his forehead against yours, his hand still cradling your waist.

“Shi-chan,” he murmured, his voice low and hoarse. “Tell me to stop, and I will. Just… tell me.”

You hesitated, your heart screaming one thing while your mind warned you of another. But as you looked up at him, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name, you found that you couldn’t say the words.

Instead, you leaned into him again, sighing in relief when he didn’t pull away.

His lips met yours again, this time with more certainty, and your world tilted on its axis. Every warning your mind screamed at you—this is wrong, it will only end in heartbreak—was drowned out by the rush of blood in your ears and the sensation of his hands gripping your waist like you were the only thing tethering him to this earth.

You gasped softly against him, and the sound broke something loose in him. His grip tightened, pulling you impossibly closer, his other hand sliding to cradle the back of your neck. You felt his tongue against yours, tasted his spit as his fingers tangled in your hair. It sent a shiver down your spine that burnt away whatever resolve you had left.

You shouldn’t be doing this. You shouldn’t want this. But as his kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, as if savoring every second, all logic crumbled. There was only the searing heat of him, the way he smelled faintly of something sweet and familiar, and the feeling of his thumb brushing softly against your jaw, grounding you even as everything else spun out of control.

Every nerve in your body was alight, every ounce of restraint you thought you had vanished, replaced by the overwhelming need to stay in this moment, in this feeling, for as long as you could.

You pulled away just enough to catch your breath, your heart pounding like a drum in your ears. His eyes searched yours, wide and unguarded, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths. His lips were red and slightly swollen, his chest rising and falling as if he’d just run a marathon.

“This isn’t—” you started in a breathless whisper, but the words caught in your throat when he cupped your face with both hands, his thumbs brushing against your cheekbones with a tenderness that sent another shiver through you.

“I know,” he murmured, his voice low and raw. “But… does it matter?”

Your throat tightened, the weight of his words settling over you like a blanket, heavy and warm. You didn’t know how to answer him, and maybe he didn’t expect you to.

Instead, he leaned in again, his breath ghosting over your lips, his hands steady and sure against your skin. “Tell me this isn’t right,” he whispered, almost pleading now, his voice breaking just slightly.

But you couldn’t. You didn’t.

And so you kissed him again. Because in that moment, it felt right enough.

.

.

This is Chapter 3 of a multi-chapter fic to be crossposted to AO3. Taglist below as requested. @starlightglimmersworld @mccookiemonster @leilakaro @certainduckanchor @itsbellablue-blog @shokosbunny @megumisthirdog @thegh0stwife @54fangirl @misslovingpearl @idkuluka @bitchycloudstrawberry @pinkpunkdynamite @theclassbookworm @okaywitheverything

love u guys <3 thx for reading and reblogging

[ironduke10]

Master List

Welp, all the cool kids do it, and in light of my planned updates, I should probably do it too. Everything I'm writing is Spiderverse. For now. If one day I finish everything I have planned in my head, I may dabble in animated How To Train Your Dragon.

Works in Progress

Que Sera, Sera (M) - Oh boy, why did I write this. I'm a bit nervous to even mention the topic material in description. In any case this is the most controversial thing I've ever written and probably will ever write, but I promise that I will treat Miles and Gwen with the uttermost respect. I'm *this* close to finishing my draft of Chapter 2.

This is not connected to my Ghostflower series out of respect for those who don't want to think about this topic with regards to Miles and Gwen. It could be considered standalone. But it is written in a way that it could fit in there, if you so choose to imagine it.

Crazy Shit 똥 That Ganke Overheard (And Sometimes Saw) (E) - This will be my stress relief from in between bigger written updates. One day, while writing the WIP Que Sera Sera, I thought to myself: "Ganke had to have known. He had to have." Then my mind wandered and I thought...what else did Ganke know about? This be a Ghostflower Drabbles series...through Ganke's eyes. With the barest hint of a Ganke arc and character redemption.

Finished Works - My Series: Ghostflower Blooming

This series only exists because my daughter loves to creatively write (she's written over a hundred handwritten fics by her count), and she's a ballerina, and she does karate, AND most importantly - she loves her some Gwen Stacy. And Miles Morales. And the clear, undeniable romance between the two. So one day I wrote 1, 2, and 4 in this list, gave it to her as a early birthday gift...and was shocked when she asked Dad for more. So. Here we are. Listed in chronological timeline order.

Onto The Right Foot (E) - Written as a companion sequel to Ianmalcolmreynolds' "I'll Lift You Up." I had thought to myself - boy it was nice that Rio and Gwen got a reconciliatory moment in the Post-BTSV chaos. I wondered if I could get her and Jeff to have a similar one. Gwen's two scenes with the Morales parents in ATSV were so rough, I just had to do some damage repair here.

The Unexpected Pas De Deux (E) - Pure fluff, nothing redeeming of it. Probably the only time I'll write out and out fluff. But since my daughter does ballet, I just had to write Miles and Gwen attempting aerial ballet.

The Dreamer Within (E) - A companion to the Spiderverse animated short "The Spider Within" but from Gwen's POV. After I heard Miles' famous line of "One Girl" I just had to get Gwen her "One Guy" moment. If you read this, I would greatly appreciate a comment from you explaining which reality was really real.

THE Talk Between A Father And Son (E) - In the early days post ATSV's release there was much online discourse about Gwen's love language clearly being touch. And if there's one thing I can't resist - judging by my works - it's the insertion of Miles and Gwen's parents into their lives. Miles learning about love languages, is the result.

Requests and Promises (E) - Another hot topic of discourse post-ATSV release was the idea that Gwen and Miles should get to go to a school dance in E65. So she could get the closure from arguably the most traumatic event in her life. This is my take on her closure at said dance.

For Business Or For Pleasure? (E) - Another tribute piece to ianmalcolmreynolds, this time to his "Slip From Your Tongue Like Words." Admittedly, this is my weirdest structure. Chapters 1-3 are a prequel to that work and wonder at why the flower (Gwen) would wilt at the mere mention of Miguel. Chapter 4-5 are a sequel to that work and his cafeteria/Hobie scene that I love so much.

For Everything There Is A Season (E) - FlyingSpaceDonut wrote a Thanksgiving one-shot that choked me up, and in thanks, I wanted to write him a Miles and Gwen Christmas story. This sprawling monster and the story of a Ghostflower Couple's First Christmas was the result. Written as a prequel to Are You My Mother?

Are You My Mother? (E) - A work that I wanted to write ever since I realized that Gwen's mom died when she was young, and I saw that second scene between Rio and Gwen in ATSV. In those 5 seconds of Rio silently staring at Gwen in her living room, it was like Rio's voice clearly spoke in my head: "Oh my God, this girl is in love with my son." Thanks to the existence of that moment, I felt like I could pull this off and explore what Rio and Gwen's relationship might look like approximately a year after BTSV concludes.

[dont-offend-the-bees]

Hi, it's Quill! For the fic writer asks, can you please answer 40, 56 and 65? 😘❤️

HELLO MY FRIEND THANK YOU 💛💛💛

40. If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

Ooooooh, now THAT'S a toughie. And and all art of my fic would be recived with literal tears of joy, but let's narrow it down lmao. Discounting my horny ass just wanting aaaallll the art of my smutty side account fic (and tbh more horny art of the Cat King in general), I think it would be lovely to see art of Lonely Bones, considering how much time and feeling has gone into it and considering I think you could have a lot of fun with moody compositions. Somewhere Beyond the Sea is only on it's first chapter but especially from chapter two onwards it's gonna have so many fun and whimsical things/characters to draw! I'd also be an absolute GLUTTON for more of mine and L and H's 1920s poly boys as seen in Keep Me Warm, Love Me Long, Be My Sunlight, but that's a bit more niche!

If I had to pick one singular scene, I think I'd melt like butter if someone drew Charles in subspace getting therapeutically, nonsexually dommed by Edwin with silly cat's cradle games in ’Cause You Cut Through All the Noise. I'm so fond of that fic you have no idea.

56. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

Character voices!! I need to rewatch DBDA again soon to refresh my memory lest I drift into made-up voices but generally speaking I think my dialogue characterisation is pretty fun and believable!

65. Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

I am looking forward to each and every aspect of the 1920s AU I'm working on with @dear-monday and @tw0-ravens, but especially the Thomas dialogue/arc/letters. I'm also huuuugely looking forward to writing my Edge Chronicles AU, but mostly for the world, vibes and character backstories especially pertaining to Edwin -- I'm currently struggling a bit with finding the actual plot, though! I'm also SO excited for the rest of Somewhere Beyond the Sea, there's going to be so much fun and whimsy and fantasy and sweetness, I'm really excited for the bits I've added as well as the bits I'm adapting from the source material!

Get to know your fic writer!

(And because you asked me to talk about WIPs, here we go, a very short, rough snippet of the Edge Chronicles AU from my notes app -- flashback to Charles and Edwin's first meeting!)

It was freezing cold in the prowlgrin roost. Maybe not up in the nests and the roosting poles, where the big old beasts dozed by the light of the burning braziers, the lucky sods. But down in the straw and the muck the winter chill was biting, creeping through every crack in the ancient slats. Charles was huddling down pathetically, dragging the ratty old prowlgrin tarp tighter round his shoulders, when he heard a creak. Louder than the wind through the slats, slower. The door. He froze, holding his breath. The air had... changed. It was crackling with something, making Charles' hair stand on end. And then, footsteps.  Charles shrank back, tried to make himself small. But the shape that stepped into the roost wasn't any boy that he knew — anyone who might be looking to finish what they'd started. It was... strange. It was like looking at those old barkscroll woodcuts from way back; those odd, early academic knights with the leather armour, all tooled and riveted. Like something out of a fairytale. It looked at him, right at him, and pulled off its leather helmet and underneath was just… a boy. Not like any boy he'd seen, though. Pale, worryingly so, and gaunt, eyes the most piercing blue he'd ever seen; unearthly, iridescent. Like open, uncharted sky. "I was looking for the library," said the boy, softly, hoarsely, like he hadn't used his voice in a good long while. "It used to be here, did it not?" Charles frowned, for a moment too confused to be scared. Of all the things to be looking for! "Not anymore, mate. Moved it 'cuz of the rot, didn't they? That was what, thirty years back or summit." "Thirty years..." he hummed like a rumbling storm. "Right. If you might point me in the right direction — I have some very important reading to do.” Charles was starting to think the dunk in the lake had frozen his brain. "It's three in the morning,” he said, baffled. The boy knelt before him, and raised his hand. Charles watched, horrorstruck, as his long, slender fingers lost their shape and stretched, vaporous, into elongated strands of crystalline cirrus. "It is rather pressing," said the boy, deadpan.

And some of my tests of the art style so far 😊 this AU's gonna take me a WHILE with the illustrations as well as the writing lmao

[dani-the-human]

I spent way too long on this, I've never even written these characters because I never knew how to wrote them- AND THEN YOU GIVE ME BRAIN WORMS

Here, take this and leave!

------------

"Santa isn't real, you cursed child!" Was the first thing Roksoo heard Christmas day the year his parents died as his uncle drank another bottle and shouted profanities at Roksoo. His uncle had already had 5 bottles strewn about the kitchen table and was working on his 6th when Roksoo got up and went to the living room to find the tree thrown into the wall, ornaments shattered across the floor. When he asked his uncle about it, Roksoo got an empty bottle thrown at his head and a stream of unintelligible yelling before he finally looked Roksoo in the eye and told him that Santa wasn't real.

Roksoo had figured as much. He was a smart kid and already was figuring out that Santa probably wasn't real even if his parents told him otherwise. Still, he liked the tradition. He loved seeing his parents try and fail to hide his gifts late at night or poorly cover for the other when one of them went to buy gifts.

To him, they were Santa, and that was even better than if the man were real because seeing them go out of their way to make sure Roksoo had a good Christmas was better than any magic.

So Roksoo played along. If his parents wanted to keep him believing in magic then Roksoo would.

He can't now that they're gone.

"You're the reason they will never see another Christmas."

And for all his skepticism and logical thinking, those hissed out words would brand Roksoo for the rest of his life.

Why did he deserve to celebrate Christmas when the people who made the holiday magic weren't here? He didn't.

So Roksoo never celebrated Christmas. Not with his uncle because he "didn't deserve Christmas," not at the orphanage because even if the staff tried to make it fun for the kids, Roksoo always was forgotten and left out, not when he was working to support himself because each shift was precious income that Roksoo couldn't afford to pass up, and especially not after the apocalypse where everyone was just trying to survive.

Christmas was never a priority. It was just a day.

"ROKSOOOOOOO," Choi Jungsoo whined as he tried and failed to get a salvaged Santa hat that he found in an abandoned department store onto Roksoo's head. "ITS CHRISTMAS EVE, YOU NEED TO BE FESTIVE! YOU HAVEN'TEVEN PUT UP THE STOCKING I GAVE YOU!!"

"... It's too much trouble-"

"FINE, I'll just do it for you!" Pulling the aforementioned stocking out of a drawer in Roksoo's desk, Choi Jungsoo hung it up with flare and motioned to it like it was his magnum opus. "Now Santa has a place to put your presents."

"I never get any."

The silence that follows finally makes Roksoo look up at his coworker and self-assigned hyung. What he finds in a slack-jawed Jungsoo in front of him and Lee Soohyuk giving him a wide-eyed look like Roksoo just told him the world is flat.

It takes a while due to Roksoo's ambiguous and nonchalant responses, but eventually Lee Soohyuk and Choi Junsoo piece together that Roksoo hasn't properly celebrated Christmas since he was a very young child.

What follows that revelation is his two self-appointed hyungs arriving on his doorstep after work, hands full of blankets, decorations, and food and hauling behind them a cart with everything from presets, ornaments, and a whole fake tree that had obviously seen a lot of use. They set everything up in record time and Roksoo was forced to stay up till midnight as his hyungs made him play games and make food with them until the clock finally struck 12. At which point, the two pulled him towards the tree and the three gifts underneath it.

"Here, this one's from me, you troublesome maknae," Lee Soohyuk went first, handing Roksoo a flat box wrapped in simple green paper. "You hate the cold so I thought these might help."

Roksoo opened the box, inside was a dark jacket with two layers. The outer layer had a lot of pockets and felt more like a raincoat, while the inner layer had a softer feel and was very warm without being too bulky.

"The two can also come apart since they have zippers to attach them-"

"Me next!" Jungsoo interrupted, practically shoving the present into Roksoo's hands as he beamed. "From your hyung."

Roksoo couldn't hold back reminding him that they were born on the same day, much to Jungsoo's dismay.

This present was smaller than Lee Soohyuk's but was slightly taller, wrapped in red paper that looked slightly scuffed and even had a rip on one of the corners.

Inside was a book, almost fully intact besides some stains and some tears at the corners, that had a black dragon on the cover.

"I found it in an old house and I figured you'd like it. But take it out, there's some stuff underneath!"

Doing so, Roksoo found a pair of gloves and an eye mask with the words 'Dont talk to me Im sleeping' sewn on the front.

"Decided to add that while you were cooking with Hyung."

That explained why he was so quiet despite his normal complaints about being banned from the kitchen after one incident.

"Last one is from both of us Roksoo, hope you like it," Lee Soohyuk said as he passed Roksoo the final gift.

"Our precious maknae better like it, I'll cry if he doesn't! You better not make your hyung cry, Roksoo."

Roksoo didn't bother correcting Jungsoo this time and instead focused on the gift in his hands. This one was also flat and smaller than the other two gifts as it easily fit in Roksoo's hands. It was wrapped in light purple paper with a small fabric bow at the center that looked hand tied.

Inside was a picture frame.

"They took that after we got back from a mission last year," Lee Soohyuk explained.

"It took us a while to get it developed properly, but I think it was worth it," Choi Jungsoo piped in. "Now you'll always have us with you!"

"...thank you."

It was a simple thanks, yet the two lit up like the Christmas tree next to them after Roksoo said that.

Only for their faces to fall as blood started dripping from Roksoo's nose.

"Roksoo!" Both yelled as they fussed around him.

"Why are you using [Record] right now, you troublesome maknae???"

Lee Soohyuk was practically shaking him while Choi Jungsoo was grabbing tissues for him.

"It was important."

He kept recording as they fussed over him. He had been since they started decorating his place.

The next day, the two found the picture on Roksoo's desk facing him as he worked. No one on the team ever saw it dusty.

(I ACCIDENTALLY MADE IT SAD, WHY DID I MAKE IT SAD- Please skip over this if you don't want sad, I made myself sad, their story is sad, why do I do this???)

Ever since Roksoo was appointed Team Leader, no one has seen what's in the picture frame on his desk. It's always faced down, never up, but it's never dusty and still looks like new. Every day on Christmas Eve, the picture vanishes, only to return the day after Christmas to it's spot.

One day, a brave member takes a look at it while Roksoo is at a meeting.

It shows Roksoo at the center, surrounded on both sides by Choi Jungsoo on the left and Lee Soohyuk on the right, both with thier arms around Roksoo and grinning widely despite the dirt and grime that covers them. Roksoo is also covered in dirt and has a trail of blood coming from his nose that has been messily wiped away, but he also has a small smile on his face that no one on the team ever thought he could make.

In the corner is a small note in marker: 'Merry Christmas to our maknae- your hyungs'

Kim Roksoo did not believe in Santa as a child.

After getting rescued from his abusive uncle,

Literally any adult: so, Roksoo? What did you ask Santa to give you this Christmas?

KRS, without missing a beat: Santa isn't real so I didn't bother asking.

The adults: *having no idea how to go from here*

It was fine until his parents were alive. Even his uncle initially bought him gifts to protect his innocence. But after he fell deep into gambling... Well, you can picture it.

[figs-oliomedley]

oh honey

turned on Bubble Guppies while I was making pancakes and remembered why I loved this show

god bless, Deema (also go listen to the songs they're genuine bangers)

[undead-moth]

I know I've been on about this for a while now and I'm being a hater but you're telling me SydCarmy was "always meant to be platonic" even though there are two seasons of writing making use of tried-and-true explicitly romantic tropes, themes and writing signals, and SydLuca is going to be romantic because...he was nice to her on screen for a few minutes?

I don't even care if people ship SydLuca, or if they just prefer it, but you can't honestly tell me that you believe Carmy was always meant to be a friend but Luca is an obvious love interest.

Just because Syd and Carmy haven't kissed or confessed their love to each other doesn't mean that isn't very obviously the direction this show is going. The Bear has already shown you who is endgame. It has shown you every episode of the show so far.

Honestly I really don't think The Bear fanbase understands this show or cares about these characters or the story being told here, which is unfortunate because this show is shockingly well-written in comparison to most shows right now, and we should be so grateful for it but all we're doing is complaining that the writers led us on by not making a ship canon fast enough. It's just. Sad.

[brittlebutch]

sonic and snufkin actually kind of feel like very similar characters to me. holding hands over “my personal sense of freedom and dedication to making decisions based on what I think is right is what matters most, and if you’ve built some idealized version of me in your head then that’s none of my business and it’s not my responsibility if the reality of who i am lets you down in some way”. also the deep connection to nature and all.

[fragmentedblade]

I have so many screenshots of Kalpas' face I could reconstruct his face at this point, and I'm afraid to say I'm not sure his face is scarred

[arolesbianism]

Some au antag doodles