#NOT ART BUT ILL PUT IT THERE SO I SEE IT AGAIN ONE DAY. maybe ill make a comic for it too idk

[seventh-district]

several days and 15 thousand words later, i am relieved to report that the suffocating urge to Write Something has been sated and no longer has me in a chokehold

[alchemiclee]

firefly, but it's eureka seven and she's eureka. and stelle is renton (because I love lesbians) and the story is very similar but it's changed to fit more into the star rail world. like instead of gekkostate it's stellaron hunters, or stellaronstate perhaps. maybe it's a combo is stellaron hunters and astral express! and their ship is the express. because himeko would be a great talho. maybe kafka is their "fearless leader" taking her inability to fear seriously in that regard lmao. firefly is the secret weapon the military was using and this stellaron express group rescused her. they later bring in a strange girl after sam crashes into her house. but the leaders know who she is and know they need her. their world is being destroyed by a stellaron and they have to stop it. oh! and firefly has surprise kids (hook, clara, huohuo). March is there just to take pictures on her film camera and make a magazine to sell and get money on the side for them. this would be pretty cool if I actually had the motivation and time to write it lmao

[lostfracturess]

remedies and reasons | ch. 04

pairing — professor geto x law student reader

summary — this wasn’t supposed to happen. not that miserable internship at the law firm you hated, not him becoming your doctor, and definitely not that drunken night at the bar. but he helped, and god, you needed a friend. and he did too. except it's never just friendship with him, is it? it could be perfect—messy, complicated, but perfect. if only his heart wasn’t already taken.

word count — 11.8 k

warnings — 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content, age difference (10 years), doctor-patient relationship, angst, smoking, alcohol use, mature themes, and depictions of illness. reader discretion is advised.

previously — as suguru struggles with his conflicting feelings, you have your own battles to face. between the hectic internship and these stupid feelings for your doctor, you could really use a break. good thing there's that party this weekend—though knowing your luck, something's bound to go wrong.

author's note — i know it's been a while (sorry !!) but this one is a little bit spicy to make up for it and maybe we even meet other people we know from certain stories. thank you all for being so patient with me and for all the sweet messages checking in. you guys are the best !! hope you enjoy and as always, your comments and reactions mean everything to me <3

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

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"In consideration thereof, the Parties hereby agree that upon completion of the Merger..."

You started the sentence for the sixth time, highlighter poised over the page. But the words refused to make sense, like they were written in some strange legal cipher your brain had forgotten how to decode.

"In consideration thereof, the Parties hereby..."

Your mind drifted once more. Dark eyes. Gentle hands. The warmth of his palm against your back at the gallery. Damn it. Focus.

"In consideration..."

How his fingers felt inside of y—

"IN CONSIDERATION—"

The highlighter slipped, leaving a bright yellow streak across your index finger instead of the page. Perfect. You stared at your now neon fingertip and let out a long breath.

At least it matched the other evidence of your scattered mental state today — the coffee stain on your sleeve, the backwards sticky note on your computer monitor, the fact that you'd put your access card in the vending machine instead of your wallet this morning.

You dragged your attention back to the merger agreement, determined to actually comprehend at least one full sentence. Something about contractual obligations and breach of fiduciary duty. The words might as well have been written in ancient Greek for all you were absorbing them.

Instead, your thoughts wandered to the way he'd looked that night — slightly rumpled dress shirt, hair windswept from rushing straight from surgery, that tiny spot of blood on his sleeve he'd tried so desperately to hide. 

As if that somehow mattered more than the fact he'd just spent hours saving someone's life before coming to see you.

The way he'd actually listened when you rambled about brushstrokes and composition, those pretty eyes fixed on you like you were sharing the secrets of the universe instead of just babbling about art. How someone who spent his days peering into people's brains could seem so genuinely interested in something as far removed from his world as contemporary art.

And the way he'd looked at you when you talked about your paintings. Your stomach did that stupid little flutter again at the memory, the same sensation you'd felt under his gaze that night.

No. Stop it. Case files. Merger acquisitions. Important legal stuff that actually mattered.

"In consideration thereof..." you tried one more time, but it was hopeless.

You slammed the case file shut, earning a few startled glances from nearby cubicles. A few papers fluttered to the floor, but you couldn't even bring yourself to care. This was ridiculous. You were supposed to be a professional, not some lovesick teenager mooning over your doctor.

Maybe it was just curiosity. It had to be curiosity. Nothing else made sense. You weren't lovesick. Definitely not. That would be ridiculous and completely inappropriate. He is your doctor. There are boundaries. Professional lines. You know this.

But your treacherous mind kept circling back to that moment when the phone call came. How quickly his expression had changed, walls sliding into place. You shouldn't have wondered about what — or who — had put that look on his face. It wasn't your business.

And yet you couldn't help but think it was her. 

Dr. Gojo's girlfriend, the one Suguru had feelings for. You remembered how he'd sounded in the hospital that day, talking about two people made for each other, the pain in his voice when he'd admitted to watching his best friend fall in love.

Something tightened in your chest at the thought, a strange heaviness you didn't quite understand. It wasn't your place to feel—whatever this was. You barely knew him, had no right to care about his complicated feelings for someone else.

Besides, it was actually kind of tragic when you thought about it — harboring feelings for your best friend's girlfriend. Like something out of a drama. You should have felt sympathy, maybe even pity. Not this odd feeling that made you want to look away whenever he got that faraway look in his eyes.

You dropped your head into your hands with a groan. What was wrong with you? Since when did you start caring about the personal life of a man who you barely knew? 

"Working hard or hardly working?"

Chad's voice cut through your thoughts like nails on a chalkboard. Great. Because this day wasn't complicated enough already.

You looked up to find him perched on the edge of Higurama's desk in his usual way — like he was posing for some imaginary corporate photoshoot. With his stupid suit, all perfectly tailored lines and subtle pinstripes that screamed 'i'm rich'.

"Don't you have your own work to do?" You didn't bother hiding your annoyance.

"Actually, I just finished reviewing the Yamamoto case files." He picked up one of your carefully arranged documents, examining it with that insufferable air of superiority. "You know, the ones you were supposed to handle? Higurama seemed pretty impressed with my analysis."

You snatched the paper from his hands. "Those were my notes."

"Were they?" He tilted his head, his perfectly styled hair not moving an inch. You'd never seen it move, not even in the wind. "Must have gotten mixed up in the filing system. Easy mistake to make."

You clenched your jaw, fighting the urge to throw your coffee mug in his self-satisfied face. Your entire weekend's work, and he'd just—what? Slapped his name on it and presented it as his own?

"What do you want, Chad?"

"Stop calling me that."

"Yeah, whatever. What do you want?" you repeated, turning back to your work, hoping he'd take the hint.

Instead, he leaned closer, his cologne disgustingly close to your nose. "Actually, I wanted to ask you about the Nakamura case. The international trade dispute?"

You stiffened. That was another case you'd spent countless hours on, poring over documents until your eyes burned. Of course he was after that one too. "What about it?"

"Well," he drawled, picking up your pen and twirling it between his fingers, "I'm having trouble with some of the documentation requirements. Thought maybe you could walk me through it?"

"You work here too," you pointed out, snatching your pen back before he could add it to his collection of stolen things. "These are basic procedures. Maybe check the manual?"

He laughed, that practiced, hollow sound that probably took years of private school to perfect. "Come on, help a friend out. We're all on the same team here, right?"

"Friends? Is that what we are?"

"Well, colleagues then." He shifted closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Look, I know we got off on the wrong foot with the Yamamoto thing, but I'm trying here. Besides, it's good to have friends in high places. Never know when you might need a favor."

The implied threat wasn't subtle. Neither was the reminder of his position — daddy's little prince, untouchable in his tailored suit and borrowed authority.

"I'm busy," you said flatly, gathering your papers into a hasty pile. "Try Google."

"Google?" Chad's perfectly shaped eyebrows shot up like this was the most outrageous suggestion he'd ever heard. "Come on, don't be like that. I just need—"

Then the door opened and Higurama walked in, his usual stack of files tucked under his arm. His eyes flickered between you and Chad, taking in the scene — you half-standing, clearly trying to escape, Chad still perched on his desk like he owned the place.

"Ah, Mr. Kusakabe," Higurama said dryly. "I wasn't aware my office had become the new break room."

Chad slid off the desk, his corporate smile switching on like a well-oiled machine. "Mr. Higurama, I was just discussing the Nakamura case with—"

"I'm sure you were." Higurama set his files down with a pointed thud that made Chad flinch. "Don't you have that meeting with your father in ten minutes?"

You had to bite back a smile at how quickly Chad's perfectly composed expression crumbled. "Of course, you're right. I should get going." He straightened his already straight tie and headed for the door, but not before throwing you one last look that promised this wasn't over. Like a spoiled child who'd had his favorite toy taken away.

After he left, Higurama settled into his chair with a weary sigh that seemed to age him ten years. "Giving you trouble again?"

"It's fine," you said, straightening the papers Chad had disturbed. "Same as always."

"You know," Higurama began, studying you over his reading glasses with that paternal concern that always made you feel grateful and guilty at the same time, "you can tell me if he's making things difficult. His father may be a partner, but that doesn't give him the right to—"

"Really, it's okay." You managed what you hoped was a convincing smile. "I can handle Chad—I mean, Kusakabe."

Higurama's lips twitched slightly at your slip, the closest thing to a smile you'd seen from him all week. "I'm sure you can. Still." He pulled his reading glasses off and polished them with his handkerchief. "My door is always open. Well, except when it's closed. Or when I'm in court. Or meeting with clients. Or—"

"I get it," you laughed, feeling some of the tension ease from your shoulders. Sometimes it was easy to forget that underneath all his gruffness, Higurama actually cared. "Thank you."

He nodded, then let out a heavy sigh and sank lower in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight.

"What's wrong?" you asked, settling into the chair opposite his desk. You'd seen that look before — it usually preceded either a massive case breakthrough or an equally massive headache.

"These idiots are giving me grey hair," Higurama muttered, shuffling through a stack of papers.

You bit back the urge to point out that his hair was already pretty grey — had been since you'd started your internship. Some truths were better left unsaid, especially when your mentor looked like he was one case file away from a breakdown.

"Dr. Gojo and Dr. Geto?" The names slipped out before you could stop them, and you immediately wished you could take them back when Higurama looked up.

"Funny how you immediately knew who I was referring to." His lips twitched slightly. "Though I suppose they have quite the reputation around here."

"Well, they are our biggest clients from the hospital, right?" You fought back a blush, suddenly very interested in organizing the papers on the desk. "Are they in trouble?"

"Let's just say medical ethics and hospital politics don't always play nice together." He set down his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes. "And certain people seem determined to make my job as difficult as possible."

You fiddled with the corner of a document, fighting the urge to ask more direct questions. Like whether Suguru was okay. Whether this had anything to do with that phone call at the gallery, or the tension you'd sensed between him and Dr. Gojo lately.

"Is it serious?" you asked anyway.

Higurama gave you a long look over his desk. "Well, let's just say I'd rather defend a yakuza boss than deal with hospital board politics. At least with yakuza, you know where you stand." He paused, then added, "But that's not something you need to worry about."

You hesitated, then asked the question that had been nagging at you for weeks. "Why do you even handle their cases? I mean, not to sound rude, but medical law isn't even your specialty."

Higurama was quiet for a moment, his fingers drumming absently on his desk. Then he leaned back, a distant look crossing his face. "Did I ever tell you about my brain aneurysm?"

"Your what?"

"Eight years ago. Was sitting right here, actually, working on some antitrust lawsuit." He tapped the spot on his desk where Chad had been perched earlier. "Started getting the worst headache of my life. Next thing I know, I'm in the ER, and this arrogant young neurosurgeon is telling me he's going to crack open my skull."

Your eyes widened. "Dr. Gojo?"

"Mmhm." A wry smile tugged at his lips. "Every other surgeon took one look at my scans and basically started writing my obituary. But this kid?" He scoffed, but there was something almost fond in the sound. "Struts in like he owns the place, probably fresh out of whatever dumpster he got his medical license from, and said he's going to save my life. Had Geto with him too, back when they were both still residents and marginally less of a pain in my ass."

You tried not to smile at the image. "And he saved your life?"

"Unfortunately." Higurama's expression was sour. "Would've been easier if he'd just let me die. Instead, I'm stuck here, playing babysitter to two overgrown children." 

He tapped his pen against the files on his desk, the sound sharp in the quiet office. "And somehow they just wouldn't go away. Keep showing up with their problems and their drama and their 'just one more favor.'" He mimicked Gojo's voice with startling accuracy. "And now I'm stuck cleaning up after two idiots who think hospital rules are more like friendly suggestions."

He glared at the pen in his hand. Then, almost grudgingly, he added, "But I suppose they've grown on me." His eyes snapped up to yours. "Don't you dare tell them I said that."

You couldn't help but smile at his grumbling. There was something oddly wholesome about it — this grouchy corporate lawyer secretly looking out for two chaotic surgeons.

"Stop grinning like that," Higurama snapped, but without real heat. Then his expression shifted, turning serious. "But listen, keep your distance from them outside of work. They're nothing but trouble in private."

Your smile froze, heart skipping a beat. Did he know about the bar? The art gallery? The way Suguru's finger's had felt inside of you? "Of course," you managed, voice carefully neutral despite the sudden tightness in your throat. "Why would I—"

"Good." He cut you off, already reaching for another file as if he hadn't just made your world tilt sideways. "Now, about the Matsuda case, I need you to look into their import documentation from 2018 to 2020. Something's not adding up with their customs declarations."

"Right, the trade dispute." God, you needed to get it together. "I actually noticed some discrepancies in their shipping lists—"

But even as you dove into the familiar world of legal documents and corporate regulations, you couldn't quite shake the pointed look in Higurama's eyes. Nothing but trouble in private, he'd said. 

Yeah. With every flutter of your heart when you thought of Suguru, you were starting to figure that out.

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The apartment of your parents sat squeezed into a worn building at Tokyo's edges, where the city's gleam began to fade. But as soon as you stepped inside, your mom's baking enveloped you in familiar warmth, making even the tiny space feel like home.

At the kitchen table that doubled as his desk, your dad hunched over a stack of bills, squinting through reading glasses he stubbornly refused to admit needing. The table wobbled on its uneven leg, your mom's latest fix—a stack of paper towels—proving no more effective than her dozen previous attempts.

"What's all this nonsense?" you heard your dad say.

"Here, let me look at those," you said, dropping your work bag and settling into the chair beside him. The wood creaked in that old familiar way, bringing back memories of homework sessions at this very spot — your dad's calloused fingers pointing out math problems while your mom hummed by the stove.

Your dad slid the forms your way. "Tell me what all this government gibberish means."

"Just pension forms, Dad. Nothing major." You'd barely started explaining when your mom appeared, wielding a plate of cake that effectively derailed any serious discussion.

"Are you eating good?" she asked, setting down a slice big enough for three. "You're not working too hard, are you?"

"I eat plenty, Mom. Don't worry."

She brushed your cheek. "Convenience store food don't count. These fancy law firms are working you to death."

"It's just a busy period," you assured her, failing to suppress a yawn.

"With you, it's always a busy period." Your dad set aside his papers, fixing you with that penetrating look that still made you feel twelve years old. "You're young. You should be out living life, not buried in work like us."

Even at 26, your parents still fussed over you like you were a child. Some things never change, you suppose.

"Actually, I'm heading to a party tonight with friends."

Your mom's face lit up like you'd announced world peace. "A party! Oh, that's wonderful!" Her expression quickly shifted to concern. "But the lights there won't be too flashy, will they? You know how they can trigger—"

"Mom," you cut in gently, all too familiar with that worried look from years of school trips and sleepovers. "The medication Dr. Gojo prescribed works really well. I'm fine now."

"Just take care of yourself," your dad said softly.

"The medication's been great," you assured them. "Really. No seizures in months. Plus Megumi will be there, he knows exactly what to do if anything happens."

Your mom's face still held that familiar uncertainty, years of midnight hospital runs and frightened vigils etched in her expression. You crossed to her, wrapping her in a quick hug. "I'll be careful, I promise. No strobe lights, no excessive drinking, no late nights."

"Alright, alright," she conceded, but couldn't resist adding, "You know, there might be some nice young men there—"

"Mom!"

"What? I'm only asking! Mrs. Kenji from the convenience store was just telling me her son's studying medicine—"

"Please stop." You stuffed a generous forkful of cake into your mouth, the same recipe she'd used for every birthday since you could remember.

"Leave her be," your dad chuckled, then paused. "Though a doctor wouldn't be such a bad match."

You nearly choked on your cake. "Doctors are the absolute worst," you blurted, words tumbling out before you can think twice. "They're completely married to their work, walking around like they're god's gift to medicine with their fancy degrees and perfect hair—"

Your parents exchanged looks as you continued your unexpected rant.

"—acting all mysterious and professional one minute, then totally unprofessional the next. Sure, they show up late because of emergencies, which okay, fine, lives are at stake, but still—"

Your mom set down her coffee cup slowly. "Sweetie—"

"—and don't even get me started on their god complexes. Strutting around in those white coats like they own the place, being all tall and handsome and brooding—"

"Handsome and brooding?" your dad cut in, eyebrows rising toward his hairline.

Heat flooded your cheeks. "I meant hypothetically. You know, doctors in general. Not anyone specific."

"Right." Your dad set his papers aside completely, barely suppressing a grin. "Well then, how about a nice accountant instead?"

"Oh, an accountant would be perfect," your mom jumped in, eyes twinkling. "Nice stable hours. No emergencies. Definitely no god complexes."

"And absolutely no perfect hair," your dad added.

You buried your face in the stack of pension forms. "I hate you both."

"No you don't," your mom sang, already cutting another generous slice of cake. "But somebody certainly has strong feelings about doctors. In a very theoretical way, of course."

"Can we please just focus on the pension paperwork?"

"Oh, speaking of work," your mom settled into her chair with that expression that meant you weren't getting away easily, "how's the law firm treating you? Is Mr. Higurama still taking good care of you?"

A familiar heaviness settled in your chest — the same one that appeared whenever they asked about the firm. You pulled on your well-practiced smile. "It's going well. Busy, but I'm learning lots."

Your dad's face lit up with pride, and something twisted inside you. How could you tell them that each morning, you walked into that gleaming tower feeling like an imposter? That your days were spent drowning in work you couldn't bring yourself to care about, surrounded by people like Chad who seemed born for this world in a way you'd never be?

"Our daughter at Nishimura and Asahi," your mom repeated, the same way she'd probably told everyone at the market, the same way she'd mentioned it to Mrs. Tanaka at the convenience store countless times. Their daughter, the lawyer. Their golden ticket to a better life.

You thought about the half-finished paintings hidden under your bed in the dormitory, the art supplies you only dared touch in the dead of night. The way your heart had raced at the gallery with Suguru, feeling truly alive for the first time in months. 

How strange that you could feel both so seen and so invisible at the same time.

"Yeah." You took another bite of cake, which now tasted like sawdust in your mouth. "It's... great. Really great."

They'd sacrificed everything. Dad's double shifts, Mom's weekend cleaning jobs, their dreams abandoned so you could chase what they thought was yours. 

How could you tell them their vision of success was slowly suffocating you? That those gleaming office towers felt more like prison walls with each passing day? That this path you'd convinced yourself to follow was turning into a nightmare? That you'd been wrong?

"Should we look at those pension forms now?" you asked, desperate to escape before the guilt could completely overwhelm you.

Sometimes love could be its own kind of cage, you realized. Your parents' dedication, their unwavering support. It was both a blessing and a burden. They'd given up so much to give you a better life, never realizing they might be pushing you toward a life that wasn't better at all, just different. More prestigious. More stable. More suffocating.

The most painful part was knowing they'd done everything right. They'd loved you, supported you, sacrificed for you — all the things good parents were supposed to do. There was no one to blame, no villain in this story. Just well-meaning parents who wanted the best for their child, never realizing that their dreams for you might not align with your own. 

It was a special kind of heartbreak, being unable to disappoint people who had never disappointed you.

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

"If you poke my eye out, I swear—" You squirmed in the backseat, trying to escape as Nobara wielded the mascara wand right in front of your nose.

"Stop squirming then!" She grabbed your chin, fingers surprisingly gentle despite her commanding tone.

"Kind of hard when you're coming at me with that thing!"

From the driver's seat, Megumi let out a long sigh. "Could we maybe not cause an accident? I'd rather not explain that to the police."

"Oh please," Nobara scoffed, never taking her eyes off her work. "I know what I'm doing."

"Since when?" you challenged.

"Since forever. Now shut up and close your eyes."

You complied, though not without a dramatic eye roll first. The car hit a pothole, making Nobara curse as the mascara wand nearly went up your nose.

"Megumi!" She smacked the back of his seat. "A little warning next time?"

"Sure thing," he deadpanned. "Would you like me to narrate every bump in the road? Maybe add some mood music while I'm at it?"

In the passenger seat, Yuji twisted around to watch, grinning like this was the best entertainment he'd seen all week. "Can I try too?"

"Less commentary, more navigation," Megumi cut in. "Where exactly is this place?"

"Right, um..." Yuji squinted at his phone. "Take the next right. Should be the big house at the end—can't miss it."

"I still can't believe we're going to a med student party," you muttered, trying to keep still as Nobara started on your other eye. "Seriously, they'll probably spend all night talking about cadavers."

"Which is exactly why—" Nobara leaned back to examine her work, "—we need to make sure you look absolutely killer."

"I don't need to look killer," you protested. "I'm not trying to impress anyone."

Nobara lowered the mascara wand, fixing you with a long look. "Right. And I'm just going for the thrilling discussions about gross anatomy."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, I think you know." She reached into her makeup bag, emerging with a tube of lip gloss. "Especially since a certain someone might be there."

Your stomach did an unwelcome flip. "Who told you that?"

"Aha!" Nobara's eyes lit up like she'd just won the lottery. "So there is someone! I knew it. Spill. Now."

"There's nothing to spill," you said, but the heat creeping up your neck betrayed you. "And I definitely don't need lip gloss."

"Too late!" She was already uncapping the tube. "Open up!"

"Nobara, I swear to god—"

The car swerved suddenly, sending Nobara's carefully aimed lip gloss streaking across your cheek.

"Megumi!" she screeched.

"My bad," he said, his tone suggesting it was anything but accidental. "Must've been a pothole."

"And this," Yuji announced from the front seat, "is why I never let you drive anymore," earning himself a death glare from Megumi.

You tried to wipe at your cheek, but the sticky gloss refusing to budge. "Great." 

"Don't move!" Nobara was already armed with a makeup wipe. "I can fix this!"

"No more fixing! I look fine!"

"We haven't even started on your eyeshadow!"

You looked desperately at Megumi in the rearview mirror. "Help me."

"Sorry," he said, barely suppressing a smile. "I'm just the chauffeur."

"Traitor."

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

The first thing that hit you was the noise.

Music throbbed through massive speakers, the bass so heavy you could feel it in your bones, while voices rose and fell in uneven waves, trying and failing to outmatch the music that echoed off the marble floors and high ceilings.

The second thing was the sheer excess of it all.

"Holy shit," Yuji said, voicing what you were all thinking.

The house—if you could even call it that—was more like something out of a movie. A crystal chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting prismatic light across the sea of bodies below. The furniture had been pushed aside to create some sort of dance floor, where people were already dancing like the party had been going for hours.

"Is that a—?" Nobara pointed, mouth agape, at what appeared to be a massive human heart, currently serving as an elaborate vodka luge for a group of laughing students.

"There's two," Megumi corrected, nodding toward another one shaped like some kind of organ. "But I'm not quite sure what's that supposed to look like."

You stood frozen in the entrance, your senses on overload. Strobe lights sliced through the darkness in rapid pulses, bouncing off mirrored walls and making your head spin. The air was thick with fog machine haze and enough designer perfume to stock a department store.

"Hey." Megumi's hand found your elbow. When you turned, his expression was pure concerned-best-friend. "You good? With the..." He gestured vaguely, but you knew what he meant.

You took a deep breath, mentally checking in with yourself as the bass thundered through your chest. "Yeah, think so. Just... don't abandon me for any hot med students?"

He smiled, shifting slightly to block some of the strobing lights. "Please. As if anyone here is interesting enough to make me ditch you."

Suddenly, a burst of cheers drew your attention to what looked like a Vegas-style bartending show. Some guy in a vest was juggling bottles and literally setting drinks on fire, because apparently regular cocktails weren't fancy enough for this crowd.

"Oh. My. God." Nobara's squeal could probably shatter glass. "Is that a chocolate fountain? That's it, forget becoming a pharmacist—I'm marrying whoever owns this place."

"That would be me."

The voice came from behind, smooth as expensive whiskey. You turned to face a tall, striking man. Designer clothes, top buttons undone and sleeves rolled up, artfully tousled dark hair, and the kind of smile that's definitely practiced in mirrors.

"Naoya Zenin," he introduced himself, managing to sound both bored and smugly pleased at the same time. "Welcome to my humble abode."

Humble. Right. Through an archway, you could see the party spilled out to a pool area that belonged in a luxury home magazine, complete with more people than your entire apartment building.

"Don't think I've seen you around campus."

Before you could fumble for an explanation, Nobara glided forward like she was born for this moment. "Oh, we're med students too," she lied smoothly, her smile pure sugar. "Exchange program. From Kyoto University."

You barely contained your surprise, but then Nobara's heel found your toes.

"Kyoto?" Naoya's eyebrow arched. "Really? What's your focus?"

"Neurology," Nobara replied without missing a beat, then she gestured toward Megumi. "He's in cardiology. Absolute genius with hearts. Top of our class."

Megumi's face remained admirably blank, though you could practically see his soul leaving his body.

"And you?" Naoya's attention moved to Yuji, who froze like someone had hit his pause button.

"Sports medicine!" Nobara swooped in, slinging an arm around Yuji's shoulders. "You wouldn't believe what he did for our university volleyball team last semester. Practically gave them all new knees."

"Yeah, uh," Yuji managed, looking slightly green. "Knees are... really something."

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from losing it as Nobara continued to spin her elaborate tale. She was in full swing now, crafting backstories with enough detail to make you almost believe them yourself.

"—which is exactly why Tokyo was the perfect choice," she concluded with a theatrical wave of her hand. "The selection process was brutal, but once they saw our research proposals—"

"Research?" Naoya interrupted, looking more intrigued now. "What kind?"

"Oh!" Nobara's eyes lit up with what you knew only meant trouble. She glanced around frantically before her gaze landed on the slowly melting ice heart. "We're actually studying crystallization patterns in organic tissue preservation."

You nearly choked on air.

"Is that so? And what have you found?"

"Well," Nobara continued, smooth as butter, "the molecular structure of ice formation in cellular matrices shows fascinating parallels to..." She jabbed an elbow into your ribs.

"Crystalline lattice networks!" you squeaked, mentally thanking every god that you'd actually opened one of Megumi's chemistry books that one time.

"Precisely." Nobara beamed like you'd just discovered penicillin. "The implications for long-term tissue storage are absolutely groundbreaking."

Naoya's eyes narrowed slightly. "And you're all involved in this research?"

"Interdisciplinary approach," Megumi cut in, his poker face giving away nothing. "We each bring our own perspective to the project."

"How intriguing," Naoya drawled, and you couldn't tell if he was actually buying it or just playing along. "We'll have to discuss it further over drinks. I have some excellent imported vodka over here."

"Perfect!" Nobara practically sang, already dragging a shocked Yuji towards the bar before Naoya could start asking about actual medical terms.

The moment Naoya turned away, you released a breath that felt like you'd been holding it since freshman year. "Crystallization patterns?" You glanced at Nobara. "Seriously?"

"I panicked, okay?" she whispered back, still maintaining her beauty-queen smile. "The ice sculpture was right there! What was I supposed to say?"

"Maybe something that won't get us exposed as frauds when he starts asking about actual medical stuff?"

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

It was remarkable how quickly your ridiculous pretense took on a life of its own. Your virgin mojito had long since grown warm, forgotten in the excitement of your increasingly elaborate charade. You'd tried to back out earlier, but Nobara wouldn't hear of it. 

Now, surprisingly, you were having too much fun to care.

Nobara charmed her way through the room like always, her tales of revolutionary research getting more outlandish by the minute. Yet somehow, these future doctors were eating it up. Her theatrical gestures and infectious confidence made even the most absurd claims sound plausible.

You found yourself caught up in the performance, adding details to your fictional research with surprising ease. Every half-remembered phrase from Megumi's textbooks, every medical drama you'd ever watched, became fodder for your improvised deception. 

"Exactly!" Nobara said, turning over to you. "Show them that diagram you were working on."

Without missing a beat, you grabbed a cocktail napkin and began sketching what you hoped looked like scientific diagrams but were actually just random shapes you remembered from Megumi's chemistry textbooks. The small crowd leaned in.

"This is brilliant," someone said, peering at your doodles. "The way you've mapped the molecular bonds—"

"Groundbreaking," another agreed, though you were pretty sure your drawing made no sense.

Even Megumi, usually allergic to fun, had embraced the absurdity. His natural stoicism translated perfectly into the role of a serious researcher. In fact, he seemed genuinely in his element. For once, he could talk about molecular structures and reaction mechanisms without your eyes glazing over. 

Yuji, meanwhile, had found his stride discussing sports injuries with a group of actual athletes. His enthusiasm for sports made up for any medical knowledge he lacked, and he'd managed to deflect every technical question with "Yeah, but you should see what this does to your knees!"

It was strangely freeing, this slipping into another life. 

You hadn't actually needed to pretend to be med students — there were plenty of other students at the party too, from engineering to literature. But somehow, making up this stupid story was surprisingly enjoyable.

For once, you weren't thinking about law school, your parents' expectations, or your complicated feelings about certain doctors. Instead, you were just... playing, creating a fantasy world where you could be anyone you wanted to be.

And maybe that was the real breakthrough of all.

Later that night, you and Nobara made your way to the bar to get new drinks, still laughing about your successful deception. Naoya was already there, lounging against the bar with the kind of casual elegance that suggested he'd never had an awkward moment in his life. 

His eyes lit up when he spotted you, that boyish smile spreading across his face. He straightened up, abandoning whatever conversation he'd been having with his friends.

"Ah, our brilliant researchers," he drawled, gesturing to the bartender. "Let me make you something special."

The way he said it made you wonder if he'd seen through your act, but his smile remained playful, almost conspiratorial. He leaned over the bar himself, selecting a few bottles. His movements were smooth, casual, like everything else about him.

"Oh, she doesn't drink," Nobara said, pulling you closer as she watched him mix the drinks. "Medical condition."

"Come on, one won't hurt," Naoya insisted, his smile never wavering. "This is a celebration." He slid two glasses towards you both, the liquid an impossible shade of blue that seemed to glow. "My own creation. Like your groundbreaking research, it's one of a kind."

Nobara reached for the drink, but you hesitated, knowing it was a bad idea to drink with your medication. But then you reached for it anyway. It seemed rude not to. 

Naoya raised his own glass for a toast, but before either of you could react, a group of boisterous athletes in varsity jackets crashed into your circle

"Yo, Naoya! Stop flirting and get your ass over here!"

Naoya's casual composure cracked slightly as his friends practically manhandled him away and dragged him backwards. "Ladies, excuse me. Duty calls. Save that drink for me?"

Once he was gone, Nobara nudged you with her elbow. "Well, he was subtle."

"Please don't start."

"What? I'm just saying, the guy couldn't take his eyes off you."

You rolled your eyes. "He's literally your type. Rich, handsome, probably going to inherit a hospital or three. Why don't you go for it?"

"Because he wasn't looking at me?" Nobara raised an eyebrow. "Besides, since when do you turn down good-looking guys?"

"Since they started looking like they've never heard the word 'no' in their lives. I mean, look at this place. These people probably vacation in countries I can't even spell."

"Right, because that's totally the reason." Nobara's voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Nothing to do with a certain someone who you won't talk about?"

You groaned, dropping your head onto the bar. "Can we go back to pretending to be brilliant researchers? That was way more fun than this conversation."

"Don't be like that!" Nobara suddenly perked up, grabbing your arm. "Come on, let's go dance. Fresh air will do you good, and maybe clear whatever, or whoever, is on your mind."

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

You followed Nobara into the backyard, still carrying your untouched drink more for show than anything else. The night had transformed the perfect garden into something between a music festival and a medical conference gone wild. 

Fairy lights twinkled in the trees, casting everything in a dreamy glow, while the pool glowed an artificial blue that matched your drink. In the water, people splashed around, their pretense of sophistication long abandoned as music pulsed through the air.

Near an absurdly big fire pit, you spotted Megumi and Yuji sitting with a couple of female med students. Even from a distance, you could tell that Yuji was trying to impress them in his own unique way of doing—whatever it was he was doing there—while Megumi watched with his usual quiet amusement.

Then, the music shifted to something with a heavy beat, and before you could protest, Nobara grabbed your hands, pulling you both into a dance circle. Even Megumi got dragged in, though his version of dancing mostly involved standing there while the rest of you moved around him. His deadpan expression only made everything funnier.

You found yourself laughing, really laughing, as Yuji attempted to coordinate a group choreography that absolutely no one could follow. Nobara twirled you around, both of you giggling as you nearly crashed into Megumi, who caught you with an eye roll that couldn't quite hide his smile.

For a moment, everything else faded away. None of it mattered — not law school, not your internship, not any of it. You were just four friends being young and stupid together, pretending to be something you weren't and having more fun than you'd had in months.

Across the yard, you kept catching glimpses of Naoya, who remained stationed at the beer pong table, surrounded by his athletic friends. His smile would flash in your direction whenever your eyes met, and something about the attention felt... nice. Not him specifically. Maybe you just liked being seen. By someone. Anyone.

That's when someone burst through the backyard doors, nearly colliding with you. His shout cut through the music and chatter, "Professors incoming!"

The words rippled through the crowd like lightning. The party dissolved into instant chaos as someone killed the music, leaving only the telltale sound of glass bottles being hastily collected while future medical professionals scattered like startled teenagers.

Before you could process what was happening, someone crashed into you — literally crashed, sending your blue drink all over your shirt. The woman looked right through you, her eyes fixed on something behind your shoulders, face pale like she'd seen a ghost.

"I'm so so sorry," she managed.

"It's okay—" you started, but she was already moving past you, drawn to the front entrance like a magnet.

"What a bitch," Nobara said, eyeing your ruined shirt.

"At least I don't have to pretend to drink it anymore." You dabbed uselessly at your shirt, though you were oddly unfazed. After all, this wasn't the first time something like this had happened.

But Nobara wasn't listening anymore — her attention had shifted to the front entrance where a group of older, admittedly attractive men had just walked in. Your stomach dropped when you spotted him. No, them. Both of them. 

Dr. Gojo and Dr. Geto, walking in like they owned the place. Which, you realized with growing horror, they kind of did — these were probably their students. And here you were, playing pretend medical researcher while your actual doctors just crashed the party.

But any panic about your blown cover vanished when you saw what happened next. The woman who'd run into you had frozen in place as Dr. Gojo spotted her. The look that passed between them was so intense, so heavy, that you felt like you were intruding just by witnessing it.

"What is that about?" Nobara whispered, gripping your arm as you both watched the scene unfold.

"I don't know." You couldn't tear your eyes away. Gojo had caught up to the woman now, and even from across the room, you could feel the tension between them as they exchanged what looked like a few terse words. Then, just as abruptly as it started, he strode off deeper into the house, leaving her standing there alone.

"Okay, that was weird," Nobara said, still clutching your arm.

You just nodded, feeling strangely unsettled. There was clearly a story there — several stories, probably — but you weren't sure you wanted to know any of them. Something about the whole interaction felt too private, like you'd stumbled onto a scene you weren't meant to witness.

Then Suguru moved towards the woman, the crowd parting before him. When he reached her, his hand came up to her face with a gentleness that felt like a knife between your ribs, thumb brushing against her cheek.

The pieces clicked together then with nauseating clarity. This was her. Dr. Gojo's girlfriend—student—or whatever she was. She was probably also the woman from the phone call at the art exhibition, the one whose voice had made Suguru drop everything.

Watching them, seeing how his fingers lingered on her skin, made something twist uncomfortably in your stomach. 

It was ridiculous. You had no right to feel this way. He wasn't yours to want, wasn't yours to miss. Hell, he was barely more than your doctor, even if the memory of his hands on you in that bar bathroom still burned.

Then, as if pulled by the weight of your stare, his eyes met yours across the room. For one endless moment, the party dissolved into white noise. His hand dropped from the woman's face, and something unreadable flickered across his features before he tore his gaze away.

The moment shattered like glass, leaving you standing there with your stained shirt and a mess of feelings you didn't want to examine too closely. Nobara was saying something beside you, but her words seemed to come from very far away.

You couldn't look away as Suguru turned back to the woman, his posture now stiff and controlled. She kept glancing between him and Gojo with wounded eyes, and Suguru looked at her with such longing, and somehow that felt like a punch in the gut to witness.

"Hey," Nobara's voice cut through your spiral, her eyes falling to the stain on your shirt. "Want to try washing it out?"

You nodded.

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

Nobara steered you away from the scene, her grip on your arm somewhere between protective and worried. You let her guide you through the crowd, grateful for the excuse to escape. Behind you, you could still feel the weight of everything you'd witnessed pressing against your spine.

The bathroom was one of those stupidly luxurious ones rich people have in their houses. All marble counters and fancy hand towels. The lights were almost too bright, making you squint at your reflection in the stupidly large mirror.

"Okay, take it off," Nobara commanded, already wetting paper towels. "We'll see if we can save this thing."

You pulled your shirt over your head with shaky fingers, trying not to think about the last time you'd taken off clothing in a bathroom. Trying harder not to think about whose hands had helped you then. 

"So," Nobara said, her tone deliberately casual as she worked on your shirt at the sink. "Want to talk about whatever that was back there?"

"What what was?"

She shot you a look that could have stripped paint. "Oh, I don't know, maybe the way you were looking at that guy from before like he'd personally betrayed you by touching another woman?"

"I wasn't—" you started, then stopped, because what could you say? That you weren't jealous? That seeing him with her hadn't felt like swallowing broken glass? "It's complicated."

"When isn't it?" Nobara said, scrubbing at the stain. "But seriously, what's going on?"

You sit up on the counter, wrapping your arms around yourself in your camisole, the marble cold against your skin. "Nothing's going on. He's my doctor, sort of. We went to an art exhibition. That's all."

Nobara's hands stilled on your shirt. "You went on a date with your doctor?"

"It wasn't a date," you protested weakly. "It was... I don't know what it was."

"Girl," she said, turning to face you fully. "Normal doctors don't take their patients to art shows. Or look at them the way he just looked at you out there."

"How did he look at me?"

"Like someone who's realizing he's in way over his head." She wrung out your shirt, frowning at the stubborn stain. "Which, by the way, seems to be a mutual problem."

You groaned, letting your head thunk against the wall behind you. "This is such a mess. I don't even know why I'm here. I hate parties. I hate med students. I hate—" You cut yourself off, because finishing that sentence with 'seeing him look at her like that' felt too honest.

"Could be worse," Nobara said, attacking your shirt with the fancy hand dryer mounted on the wall. "You could be the one out there in whatever that drama is." She paused, eyeing you. "Though maybe you already are."

"Can we just focus on the shirt?"

Between the two of you, you managed to get the shirt mostly dry, though the stain had settled into a weird bluish shadow. Better than nothing, you supposed.

"I need to fix my face," Nobara announced, pulling out what looked like an entire Sephora store from her tiny purse. "Want me to do yours too?"

"God, no." You shrugged your shirt back on. "I think I'll head downstairs, get some air or something. Meet you there?"

"Don't do anything stupid without me!" she called after you, already leaning close to the mirror.

You slipped out of the bathroom, heading downstairs the music growing louder with each step. The party had somehow gotten even more chaotic, if that was possible. You weaved through the crowd, trying to find Megumi or Yuji.

And then it happened.

You turned a corner and collided face-first into what felt like a brick wall. A brick wall that smelled like sandalwood cologne and cigarette smoke. Strong hands steadied you before you could stumble backward. 

You knew those hands. Knew exactly how they felt against your skin, knew the calluses on those fingers, knew—

"Careful," Suguru's voice rumbled above you, too close and not close enough.

You looked up, immediately wishing you hadn't. But before you could even process the proximity, he tilted your chin up with his fingers — the same hands that had anothers woman's face in them just minutes ago — studying your eyes with sudden clinical intensity. 

"You shouldn't be here," he said. "The lights, the noise—"

"What happened to 'hello'?" you interrupted, somewhere between amused and exasperated.

He blinked, his doctor act faltering. Something shifted in his expression, softening around the edges as his hand dropped from your chin but stayed resting lightly against your neck. "Hello," he said, the word carrying a warmth that made your chest tight.

"Hi," you managed, your voice embarrassingly breathy. He still had one hand on your arm. His thumb brushed against your bicep in what might have been an accident but felt like fire through your shirt.

"Are you leaving?"

"No, I just needed some air." You swallowed hard, too aware of how warm his fingers are against your skin. You should step back. Should put some distance between you and the intoxicating heat of him. Should definitely stop staring at his mouth.

"I didn't know you'd be here," you said, which was both true and completely beside the point.

"Neither did I." His eyes dropped to your shirt, narrowing slightly. "What happened?"

"Oh, just someone's drink. A friend of mine helped me clean it." You gestured vaguely upward, toward the bathroom. "Story of my life, really. Can't go anywhere without wearing half of it home."

"First sports bars, now this." A hint of the warmth you remembered crept into his voice. "At this rate, you'll need to start bringing spare clothes everywhere—"

"I haven't forgotten about your shirt!" you said quickly. "I have it washed at home, I just... with everything going on, I kept forgetting to bring it to your office."

"Keep it." His voice dropped lower. "It looked better on you anyway."

Heat rushed to your cheeks at the compliment, and you found yourself stumbling over your words. "I... that's not... I mean—" You stopped, painfully aware of how flustered you sounded.

His words stirred up memories you'd been trying to ignore. Skin against skin, the taste of beer on his lips, the way his fingers had felt inside you. From the way his jaw clenched, like he was physically biting back words, you knew he was remembering too.

"Have you been drinking?" he asked then. "With your medication—"

"No," you cut him off. "I'm being good, Dr. Geto. Just water and my endless talent for attracting stains."

The corner of his mouth twitched, almost a smile. "Good," he said, softer now. "That's... good." But he didn't let go, and you found yourself swaying slightly closer, drawn in by his warmth, by the lingering scent of cigarettes and that cologne that had haunted you since that bathroom.

You stayed suspended like that, neither of you speaking. Not about the woman from before. Not about that night at the bar. Not about how his thumbs were still tracing absent patterns on your skin like he couldn't quite help himself.

His breath ghosted across your face. This close, you could make out every detail — the faint shadow of stubble along his jawline, the tiny flecks of gold in his dark eyes. It would be so easy to just lean in, to close that last bit of distance and—

A burst of laughter from somewhere else shattered the moment. His hands dropped from your arms, leaving cold spots where his warmth had been. He took a step back, running a hand through his hair in a gesture that seemed more nervous than purposeful.

"I should check on—" he started.

"Yeah, of course," you said quickly, wrapping your arms around yourself to fight the urge to reach for him. "Go. I'm just going to..." you gestured vaguely toward nothing in particular.

"Be careful getting home," he said after a pause.

You nodded, not trusting your voice. You watched him disappear into the crowd, and only then did you let out the breath you'd been holding, sagging against the wall.

"So I was thinking—" Nobara's voice floated down the stairs, and you immediately lunged for her, catching her wrist before she could finish whatever mortifying observation was about to leave her mouth.

"Don't," you said, already trying to drag her toward the nearest exit. "Not a word. Not one single word."

"But I just saw—"

"Nope." You tightened your grip on her wrist. "We're not doing this. We're going to find Megumi and get out of here before—"

"Guys!" Yuji's voice cut through the crowd, and suddenly he was there. "Holy shit, you have to come to the backyard right now."

"Yuji, I swear to god if this is about another keg stand—" Nobara started.

"No, no, this is way better," he insisted, already herding you both toward the back door. "Just trust me." Yuji was already pushing through the crowd, leaving you and Nobara no choice but to follow. You stumbled after him, trying to ignore how your skin still tingled from Suguru's touch.

Meanwhile, the backyard had transformed into some kind of arena. As you pushed through the throng of drunk students, you saw why.

She was there — the woman who'd collided with you earlier, the one Suguru had touched with such tenderness. But she was different now, her earlier vulnerability replaced by something sharp as she lined up a shot at the beer pong table. And beside her, of all people, stood Megumi, looking simultaneously out of place and utterly captivated.

Across the table, Gojo made a show of rolling up his sleeves and crossing his arms over his chest. Next to him stood Naoya, practically radiating the kind of entitled confidence that came with old money and too much validation, you thought.

You squeezed through the crowd to get closer to Megumi, catching her mid-sentence as she spoke to him.

"—and honestly, the way you approached the protein degradation problem?" She gestured with her free hand while perfectly arcing a shot across the table. "Brilliant. Though I had questions about the temperature controls in the third trial—"

The ball landed with a soft 'plop' in Gojo's cup. She hadn't even looked.

"Wait," Megumi cut in, actually leaning forward. "You read my paper? The one about molecular preservation in organic compounds?"

"Read it? I've referenced it in my assignment." She lined up another shot. "Your approach could change how we handle long-term storage of biological materials. Though I did wonder about the crystallization patterns in the control group—"

You watched as Megumi's face did something you'd rarely seen. Because Megumi? Megumi was gone. Hook, line, and sinker. All it had taken was one beautiful woman who could discuss molecular restructuring while landing perfect beer pong shots.

You nudged him with your elbow. "Wrong place, wrong time?" you whispered, but he barely registered your existence.

His turn came, and oh god, it was painful to watch. The ball went wide, not even close to the cups. You had to suppress a laugh because you'd never seen Megumi look so unbothered by failing at something.

The woman spun back to him, completely ignoring Gojo's turn. "So what got you thinking about temperature-dependent structural integrity in the first place?" She aimed for another shot. "Because I have some ideas about stabilization methods that might—" Another perfect arc, another splash. "—actually complement what you're working on."

You watched your best friend — your brilliant, antisocial best friend who'd once spent forty minutes explaining why drinking games were "a fundamental degradation of human intelligence" — now hanging on every word from this woman. 

And he was smiling. Megumi, the guy who'd rather solve complex equations than make small talk was actually smiling at her talking about molecular bonds between beer pong shots.

"You didn't get dragged into this at all, did you?" you said to him.

"Shut up," he muttered, but his ears were pink and his eyes never left her as she lined up another shot.

"Oh god," Nobara whispered beside you. "I think Megumi's in love."

Then you let your eyes wander, and through the crowd you saw him. Suguru stood between the two teams, hands in his pockets, looking like every ethical violation happening before him was physically paining him. His jaw was set, shoulders tense, desperately trying very hard to pretend none of this was happening.

You had to bite your lip to hold back a smile at how adorably stressed he looked, like a substitute teacher whose class had spiraled completely out of control, and somehow, as if sensing your amusement, his eyes found yours across the sea of people.

Your chest did that stupid flutter thing again, the one you really needed to stop happening every time he looked at you like that.

He shook his head slightly, a silent 'can you believe this?' that made the chaos around you fade for just a moment — the shouting crowd, Megumi's awkward academic flirting — all of it dimmed compared to the way Suguru was looking at you.

But then Megumi actually landed a shot, and the crowd erupted. When you looked back, Suguru had turned away, deep in conversation with another professor next to him. You tried to ignore those weird feelings in your stomach, especially when the woman he was clearly in love with stood just feet away. What right did you have to feel this way? To want his attention when she was right there? It was selfish. It really was.

You turned back to the game just as Megumi launched into another scientific discussion. "—if we adjust the temperature coefficient during the initial—" A ping pong ball sailed between them, deliberately catching Megumi's shoulder.

Gojo stood there, all fake innocence. "Are we really doing molecular whatever at a party? Really?"

Across the crowd, you watched Suguru pinch the bridge of his nose, looking like he was questioning every life choice that had led him to this moment. But then Naoya brought out the tequila and challenged them to drink more, and the playful atmosphere curdled into something else entirely. Something heavier.

More shots appeared. The laughter got louder, sharper, meaner.

Nobara pressed closer to your side. "This is about to go sideways."

The woman matched them drink for drink, but while others started swaying, her aim stayed deadly precise. It was almost unnerving — you wondered how any of them were still standing, let alone hitting targets.

Then it happened. When she sank another perfect shot into Gojo's cup and he drained it like water, something shifted in the air. She put one leg up on the edge of a beer crate, hiking up her skirt. The crowd went completely silent as she sprinkled cinnamon on her thigh, just above where her stockings ended.

The air felt suddenly thick, charged with something uncomfortable. Gojo stalked around the table toward her, and you wanted to look away but couldn't. It felt wrong to watch, invasive, like walking in on something raw and private that was never meant for an audience.

When Gojo dropped to his knees before her, you finally managed to tear your eyes away — only to catch Suguru's expression. God, you wished you hadn't. The raw hurt that flashed across his face felt like a punch to your gut. He turned away, disappearing into the dark garden beyond the fairy lights.

The crowd erupted in cheers and whistles, but all you could hear was static. Your skin felt too tight, your chest too hollow. The party pressed in from all sides, suffocating, while that image of Suguru's face played on loop in your head.

Next to you, Megumi had become intensely fascinated with his shoelaces, while Nobara looked like she'd witnessed a car crash in slow motion. Something had shifted, tilted off its axis. What had started as fun had twisted into something else entirely. 

You needed air, space, anything to escape the sudden wrongness of it all. You murmured something about needing air to your friends and slipped away from the crowd, following the path Suguru had taken into the garden.

You found him in a shadowed corner, far from the main paths. His cigarette glowed like a firefly in the dark, smoke trailing upward as he exhaled toward the sky.

He must have heard you approach, but he didn't move. You stepped closer, careful to make your presence known, giving him every chance to tell you to leave. When he stayed silent, you settled beside him.

"You okay?" The words came out barely louder than a breath.

"I'm fine." His voice was rough, like the smoke had scraped it raw.

"Okay." You tipped your head back, studying the stars. They were clearer here, away from the party's glow. "Well, I'm just going to stand here and count stars for a bit."

"You don't have to do that."

"Do what?" You kept your eyes fixed upward, letting him have his privacy. "I'm just stargazing. You happened to find the best spot."

Silence fell. More smoke spiraled skyward. You stayed quiet, true to your word, as if watching stars was all you'd come out here to do. As if you hadn't followed him because seeing him hurt made something in your chest ache.

Just two people, looking up at the same sky, sharing the same quiet corner of a chaotic night. If he needed to pretend that's all it was, you could give him that.

"You know," you said, gazing up at the hazy Tokyo sky. "Van Gogh painted 'Starry Night' from an asylum window. Could only see Venus from his room, had to imagine the rest. Afterwards he wrote those frantic letters to his brother complaining that he made Venus way too big in the painting, he could never quite let go of that."

Suguru looked over at you. "Is that so?"

"Mhmm. Also, did you know that he used to eat yellow paint because he thought it would make him happy from the inside out?"

You caught the slight twitch of his lips in the darkness. "You're making that up."

"I swear I'm not! He also tried to drink turpentine once. His doctor had to physically stop him." You were fully animated now, warming to the subject. "Though considering this is the same guy who gave his severed ear to a prostitute as a Christmas gift, the paint-eating thing seems almost reasonable."

"Please tell me that's a joke."

"Oh no, for real! But there are even weirder stories about artists. Like there's this issue about whether Vermeer used some kind of prehistoric camera. Like talent wasn't enough of an explanation for his paintings." You rolled your eyes. "My personal favorite theory is that Vermeer was actually a fraud and his daughter did all the paintings. Oh, and don't get me started about the conspiracy that Salvador Dalí's mustache was actually fake."

"Now I know you're making this up."

"I swear I'm not! Art history is wild!"

Finally, a real laugh escaped him — just a quiet thing, but real, the sound startling in the quiet garden. You watched his shoulders finally relax, the tension leaving his face.

"Ah, there it is," you said quietly.

"There's what?"

"That smile. Been wondering if you'd lost it completely."

He shook his head, but the smile lingered. "You're something else, you know that?"

Your eyes drifted to the cigarette dangling from his fingers. "Those things will kill you, you know," you said. "I hear there's this really demanding profession called 'doctor' that keeps warning people about that."

"Is that so?" he mused. "Must have missed that particular lecture."

You studied him for a moment before saying, "Want to talk about it?"

He blew out a stream of smoke, watching it disappear into the darkness. "It's nothing."

"Right. Because all the cool doctors hang out alone in gardens, smoking and looking sad."

That got you another smile, smaller this time. "Careful, Attorney. Your sarcasm is showing."

"Better than your deflection."

Silence fell between you again. Music from the party drifted through the garden, muffled and dreamlike. You waited, letting him choose whether to fill the quiet or let it be.

Finally, he spoke, his voice rough. "It's just—" He crushed out his cigarette beneath his shoe, watching the ember die. "Watching them hurt each other, then somehow find their way back together. Over and over. Like they can't help themselves." His fingers twitched toward his pocket, probably for another cigarette, but he stopped himself.

He raked a hand through his hair, leaving it messier than before. "And I can't... I can't fix it. Any of it. I'm just standing there, watching it all fall apart."

You shifted closer until your shoulder brushed his, offering what comfort you could. "Maybe it's not yours to fix."

He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "That's the problem, isn't it? I've spent so long trying to fix things for him, for them both. And now—"

"Now you're caught between them," you said softly, "still trying to fix things while being left out."

"Something like that." He turned to look at you then, really look at you. "When did you get so wise about all this?"

You shrugged. "Oh, you know, all those stupid law books."

He huffed out a sound that might have been almost a laugh, then grew serious again. "They deserve better than this," he said quietly, almost to himself. "Both of them."

"So do you."

The words hung between you, weightier than intended. When he turned to look at you again, something in his expression made your heart stutter. The fairy lights caught in his eyes, turning them to liquid gold at the edges.

"Here," he murmured, voice dropping to that deep tone that seemed to vibrate through your chest. "You've got..." His hand moved toward your face, hovering for a heartbeat before his thumb brushed your cheek with impossible gentleness. "Eyelash."

You forgot how to breathe. "Gone?"

"Almost." He leaned closer, thumb tracing another whispered path across your cheekbone. "There."

But neither of you moved away. His gaze dropped to where his thumb had just been, lingering there as a shiver ran through you — from the night air or his proximity, you couldn't tell. Goosebumps raised along your arms, and his eyes caught it.

His fingers drifted down your arm, barely touching, following the trail of raised skin. That ghost of contact only made you shiver harder. You heard his sharp intake of breath, felt it in the charged space between you, and inhaled that faint cigarette smoke that still lingered on his lips.

"You taste like smoke," you whispered, immediately wanting to take the words back. Smell, not taste — as if you already knew.

"Sorry," he murmured, but instead of pulling away, he swayed closer, like you were both being pulled together by gravity itself. His free hand came up to cup your face, thumb brushing along your jaw in a way that made you dizzy.

"Don't be."

The moment hung suspended, everything beyond your small circle of garden fading to watercolor blurs. There was just his hands on your skin, the barely-there space between you, and then — his lips found yours.

He kissed you achingly gentle at first, as if afraid you might shatter. He tasted like smoke and wine and something underneath that was purely him. For a heartbeat, the world condensed to just this — the soft press of his mouth, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin, the night wrapping around you like silk.

But even as you melted into him, you could feel it — the shadow of her lingering between you, all his unspoken love for her. It was there in the slight trembling of his hands, the bitter edge beneath the sweetness of his kiss, the way he touched you like he was trying to convince himself of something.

Then his fingers slid into your hair, and rational thought scattered. This wasn't like that desperate night at the bar. This was slower, deeper, deliberate, like he was trying to memorize every sigh, every shiver, learning exactly how you wanted to be kissed.

You knew you should stop this. He was carrying a torch that burned too bright to ignore, loving someone who wasn't you. But his hands felt so right against your skin, his mouth moving against yours with a tenderness that made thinking impossible.

Instead of pulling away, you drew him closer, fingers curling into his jacket. He made a sound low in his throat, surprise or surrender, you weren't sure. Didn't want to know.

The kiss deepened, turned hungry. Your back hit something solid, a wall maybe, you didn't care enough to check. His hands cradled your face now, thumbs stroking your cheeks as he kissed you like he was trying to forget something, or someone.

Then suddenly he was gone, backing away so quickly you nearly stumbled. His breathing came ragged, matching your own. In the dim light, you could see the conflict written across his face.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have—"

You knew this was wrong. Everything about it screamed mistake — he was older, more experienced and he was your doctor, technically, and let's not forget he's clearly in love with someone else. Tomorrow, in the harsh light of day, you'd probably both regret this.

But right now? Right now you wanted to be selfish. Wanted to pretend, just for tonight, that his hands on your skin meant something more than escape. That when he looked at you with those dark eyes, he was seeing you and not her shadow.

And was it really that wrong to be selfish, just this once? To take something you wanted without overthinking every consequence? Everyone else seemed to do whatever they pleased, why shouldn't you?

You closed the distance between you, hands finding his jacket collar once more. "Don't think," you whispered, pulling him down to meet you. "Just... don't think."

For once in your life, you decided to take something you wanted, consequences be damned. Tomorrow could take care of itself.

He resisted for half a heartbeat, then surrendered with a groan that made your knees weak. This time when he kissed you, there was nothing gentle about it. He walked you backward until stone met your back again, one hand bracing against the wall beside your head.

Your fingers wound into his hair as he pressed closer, until you could feel every line of him against you. The solid weight of him made the world spin. When he lifted you, it felt natural to wrap your legs around his waist, letting him pin you more firmly against the wall.

His hand slid under your thigh, grip steady and sure. Every point of contact between you felt electric, dangerous, wrong — and yet too good to stop.

But god, the way he touched you made it impossible to think straight. Every rational argument dissolved under the heat of his hands, the pressure of his body against yours. You were playing with fire and you knew it. But maybe you wanted to burn.

When you broke apart for air, his eyes were dark enough to drown in. For a moment, you both stayed frozen like that, breathing hard, balanced on the knife's edge of something stupid.

"We shouldn't," he said, but his fingers only tightened their grip.

You leaned in, lips brushing his ear. "Maybe we should find somewhere more private," you breathed, feeling the shudder that ran through him. "Like a bedroom."

His grip on your thigh tightened. He pressed his forehead to the wall beside your head, harsh breaths hot against your neck. The hand by your head curled into a fist against the stone.

"My place isn't far," he said roughly. When he met your eyes again, there was something vulnerable in his gaze. "But are you sure about this?"

Instead of answering, you traced slow kisses along his jaw, feeling the scratch of stubble against your lips. The sound that escaped him was almost pained.

"I meant here."

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

author's note — thank you all for your continued patience and support with this slow update story :')) i've added a "previously" section at the beginning to help you keep track of the narrative, maybe? idk, i'd love to hear if you find this helpful.

sooo this chapter dove deeper into the growing complications between our characters as their lives start to tangle together. i had so much fun writing the crossover between the remedies and reasons and symptoms and causes storylines, even though handling two timelines of the same events nearly broke my brain.

also thank u to that one anon who reminded me that r&r reader still has suguru's shirt (would have totally forgotten about it).

& quick note about the alcohol consumption in this story: while it's serve the narrative of the story, please remember that alcohol is toxic to the body and brain, with no "safe" amount. please be mindful of your health and wellbeing.

and lastly, thank you so so much for reading. all your messages, comments, and reblogs mean the world to me, like really, seeing your theories and those long analysis messages absolutely makes my day !! i read every single one even if i don't always get to reply. thank you for supporting this story and being patient with my updates <3

ps: if you want to get notifications for future updates, you can join my taglist here !

tags — @sugurora @manhattanstrawberry @rosso-seta @shoruio @paolarox01

@depressedemosantaclaus @myahfig4 @starlightanyaaa @theelegantpotato  @panteramarron

@saurondriell @starmapz

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

[mukimokai]

having "childlike wonder" doesn't mean a character is "childish" or a little baby

childlike wonder is an attitude: of finding joy in the mundane and enjoying the simpler things in life. Having an inherent interest and excitement in new things, places, and experiences. Wanting to take in every detail of something, even if it's something small. It drives exploration and discovery, wanting to know how the world works and figure it all out. Having inquisitive minds. Being fascinated by the world around oneself. Being open to new perspectives.

childlike wonder doesn't mean "childish."

Yeah. I believe Alhaitham can see Aranara. It makes perfect sense because he has every quality listed above.

Yes: Alhaitham has childlike wonder. No, he is not childish. There is a distinction between "childlike wonder" and "being childish"

So can he see Aranara? Most likely yes, it's probably canon: Web events have always been that way anyway, always introducing you to the characters and their respective personalities and interactions if there are any. Web events are canon in the sense that: if the scenario happening in the event took place, this is how the character would act in said scenario.

Yes, I do think there is enough evidence he can see them just looking at his character as a whole: plus why else would the Sumeru lobby have us turn into Aranara if almost the entire Sumeru cast were adults that the Aranara don't inherently trust? The only character who would've been there in that case would've been Nahida but we had Alhaitham and Nilou as well? And it makes sense for them to be able to see the Aranara so like. I was actually completely unsurprised that Alhaitham and Nilou could see them so uhhh-

oh and also. to the ppl who say "Kaveh can't see the Aranara bcz he's traumatized" girlie. the one child in Yoimiya's quest was going through such a traumatic illness and she could still see them.

Kaveh can't see the Aranara not because he's traumatized or whatever. but because he's pushed away his past. Kaveh is actively removing himself from childlike wonder in favour of idealism: he is constantly chasing after his goals, constantly trying to do more and more, constantly striving for perfection that he forgets the mundane, everyday things in life due to the sheer amount of stress he is putting on himself on a day-to-day basis. Kaveh is also not open to new perspectives; following his own ideals to a point and shutting away anything that contradicts his ideals. He is not an inherently curious character either; we've only seen him comment on a few things that pique his curiosity (i.e. the one voice line abt lightning) but as a whole, he's not interested in much else if it doesn't have to do with the arts or things he is passionate about which is unlike Alhaitham who seems to take an interest in literally everything other than gossip.

again: childlike wonder and being childish are different things, PLEASE understand that...

i might have 50 million people come at my throat for my take on all this but like ykw idgaf: I'm entitled to my opinion and this is how i see the whole situation.

I do think people who said it's "out-of-character" for Alhaitham to see Aranara are either mischaracterizing him or they don't understand what exactly it takes for Aranara to be seen by adults. Maybe it's both; i know a lot of people skipped the Aranara quest dialogue, and, for the longest time, Alhaitham has been one of the most wildly mischaracterized characters in the fandom (and still is being mischaracterized to this day unfortunately) so idk tbh.

and ppl always say Nilou is bland so like... i don't think ppl pay much attention to her at all which is unfortunate because she's really silly actually. Nilou stan number 1 right here tbh.

idk it's just my thoughts on it: yeah I do think it can be seen as "basically canon" but I don't think it should be used to justify "omg!! hahahahah they're so childish lmaoo!! alhaitham and nilou are such babies ahahah!"

like. gen. nuh uh. what.

yes i call them babies because they're my babies but that's just bcz i like their characters, i called them that even before this whole fiasco with the aranara... so like. uhm.

this was way longer than i planned it to be. sorry for the yapfest holy.

considered not posting this but eh who cares, it's just my take lol

[artdcnaldson]

thinking so many thoughts about stanford!art who has a thing for humping pillows for comfort/relief.

patrick teaching him to jerk off created a straight up monster, he’s fucking insatiable after that first time. he discovers that he really enjoys humping things pretty quickly, his palm, his bed, and especially his pillows. he’s got an… active imagination - he’s no stranger to wet dreams and waking up with sticky boxers, so the next logical step is to sleep with a pillow between his legs, his dick nestled up against it so he can roll his hips and rut into it in his sleep. sometimes he doesn’t even do it strictly to get off, it just becomes a comforting habit. after a long day, he’ll curl up in bed and hump his pillow, maybe even suck on the corner of it to keep his mouth occupied too.

it was never a problem until he started dating you. he’d never shared a bed so small with someone before. sure, he and patrick would push their beds together every time they were put up in some shitty hotel for tournaments but that was more space!! and patrick didn’t care, he’d just make some smug comment about art having to marry his pillow after defiling it and turn over to pass out for the night.

the first few times you sleep over in his dorm room, he insists on being a gentleman and taking the floor, but eventually he runs out of reasons to stay out of bed with you. he tries to resist, he really does, it’s just that your ass is so close and your skin is so soft and you smell so good and and… he just breaks. he rolls his hips into yours once, twice, then all of a sudden he’s pawing at your hips and your boobs, rutting his dick against your ass and whimpering out little apologies.

“m’sorry, m’sorry— can’t help it, needed it— needed you so bad,” he’s practically in tears by the time you’re awake enough to register what’s happening. not that you’re opposed. it’s actually kinda cute how quickly he got so desperate and how when you shush him, tell him it’s okay, take what he needs, he immediately calms down.

he becomes so docile, like every thought in his head left the second you gave him permission to keep humping your ass. all he can do is whimper and whine as you grind back against him. when he cums he whispers a series of garbled out, “thankyouthankyouthankyou”s and buries his face in the back of your neck before falling into the deepest sleep you think you’ve ever seen.

you fall asleep with a throbbing pussy and more than a few questions about what the fuck just happened.

the next morning he stumbles through explaining his pillow humping habit, how it clears his head, brings him comfort, and makes him cum incredibly hard.

“it’s stupid, really, i’ve just been doing it for so long,” he says, his eyes sheepishly avoiding yours.

you can see the guilt spiral he’s thrown himself down written all over his face. he looks like he’s about to panic and apologize again when you finally speak up, “come to me next time.”

“what?”

you move closer to him and run a hand through his hair gently before gripping it at the base of his neck, tight enough that his eyes roll back and his hips jerk forward of their own volition.

“next time you need to get out of your pretty little head, don’t use your pillow. i’ll take care of you so much better.”

so from then on, whenever art has a bad day or needs to empty his head (cough and his balls) he comes to you instead of his pillow.

i have… too many thoughts about this mf man so i started with a tame one akshsk hopefully this wasn’t too long and rambled !!

-first time sending an ask so if i send again ill be 🎀 if that’s cool <3

Hnnhnggggg poor baby :(( also hiii!! I love this and ur brain is amazing

god he just can’t help it. You’re so warm, so soft. He gets so hard and he just starts rubbing against you out of habit, but it feels too nice. He feels bad when he wakes you up :(((

But he needs it so bad, needs to feel it, needs to cum :((( and he falls asleep so hard after— drooling and all heavy where he’s practically crushing you :((((

And maybe you make him do it again, let you watch how he fucks his pillow when he’s had a long day. It’s too cute of a habit to kill entirely, right?

[lopposting]

guys.

I think I did it.

I think I cracked Lies of P.

(me rn)

i keep going back and forth on carlo's death.

i know i was adamant before, on him dying from the petrification disease. i think logically he would have to have had it because of ergo.

but here's another weird point about his death,

i just realized why we intrinsically think he was killed.

Carlo is wearing his school uniform when his stalker finds him, and on the floor at that. That's quite odd. Maybe not being on the floor, but the uniform. Why the uniform?

"He didn't even come to your graduation?"

For the son of an aristocratic family, would this be the image of a deathly ill son in care? Did Geppetto know? Wouldn't he be in palliative care, as Lady Antonia could afford?

Why wear the uniform after graduating?

"Oh, she's here! Grab her!"

"...Gemini, get rid of them! I'm off!"

Was his death literally right after his graduation, on the same day?

And also, Gemini is a little lamp guy. (She doesn't look to be carrying the lamp.) Why does she tell him to take care of the boys? What can he even do? Tell them off?

Here's another funny thing... We NEVER see Carlo outside of his school uniform. (at least, in the "past", "real" Carlo time line).

And as we know, the school uniform has a prominent Sailor collar, the type that is associated with nautical outfits [down to the three stripes, supposedly called a "naval collar"]. The Graduation pendant that he gives to Romeo is of an anchor. [I know that these are all artifacts of the charity house. but they are nonetheless associated in tangent with Carlo]

When we find Carlo's painting, it's right next to this one of a ship. [also, two bottles on the counter, perhaps representing the "two lives" of Carlo and Pino]

also... when Carlo's memories materialize... it's in the sand. Only on the seaside.

Remember, Romeo seems to be associated with a fire element, and Pino with water, the same seems to go with Carlo. The original novel of Pinocchio itself seems to have a strange fixation on the ocean.

And now, might I present to you:

The DLC images are also of a ship and some kind of water turbine.

Director Choi (in pre-release interview): "I'll put it this way: there are more stories I want to tell in Lies of P, so I hope [it] does well."

Also: "There sure are stories we could not introduce in the game" (talking about the story being adapted into another form)

[basically, that there was more to the story than what was really present in the final game.] I'll leave all this to your consideration without adding my own just yet. (I'll add it in a reblog on my own blog without tagging it) Just kidding I want to keep wasting everyone's time

Perhaps after the events of the game,

This is some sort of effort by Pino to either learn more about the deceased Carlo or try to remember his "previous life" as Carlo, by taking to the sea.

Maybe even after the game, Pino will STILL attempt to "awaken" as him so to speak [:(].

[Maybe he actually will.]

Again, Carlo is strongly associated with nautical elements. Again, he is never seen outside of a sailor suit, basically. Also, when we gain the memories of Carlo, they materialize on the sand, at the seaside. Remember, he DIED in the sailor outfit

Maybe we are to take the "sand memories" more "literally" as they are in the sand?

Did Carlo drown and his body wash ashore, which is why these memories materialize in the sand? Why is he so associated with ships?

Pino is also depicted in the water, remember, including what looks to be concept art that was used for the OST? Maybe it isn't "just" a motif? [even simple things like his "official" coat and his eyes being blue, blue blood's tailcoat, and him being associated with the colour blue in general]

Which is why Pino is pictured in the water, since he was "born" from Carlo's death... He was birthed in the water the same way Carlo died in it?

[more notes in reblog]

[vickyvicarious]

van Helsing waking Jack by putting a hand on his head is quite sweet somehow. Maybe it's that he wakes him gently, and doesn't blame him for falling asleep even from the beginning. Of course, it's possible that when he first arrived he assumed Jack has just gone to sleep after the night was over, but still.

"That is one of the things that we learn in an asylum, *sighing* at any rate." He sounds so bitter here about his work...

I love the delivery of the "Gott in Himmel!"

"Even the lips were white, and the gums seemed to have shrunken back from the teeth, as we sometimes see in a corpse after a prolonged illness." the kind of dull horror in his voice is great.

van Helsing has "the instinct of his life and all the long years of habit" working to keep him from showing anger, huh? I wonder if this could be related to his backstory too

love the clinking of the decanter

the sigh and misery in the way he said "there is no young Arthur here now" - I feel you, van Helsing. I'm sad about it every time.

the reaching into the back noises!

once again, Jack and van Helsing are so on it. I love it, he's already rolling up his sleeves.

the little stutter on "a-already?"

van Helsing you do not know Art yet do you. Last time he shook Jack's hand. He would never be enjealoused!

I love the way Jack's voice gets so perplexed when he is talking about the mystery of Lucy's condition. You can hear him trying so hard to understand, but he's exhausted, drained of blood, and cannot see any explanation at all so he's just circling through the same thoughts again and again.

his fortifying breath before "Lucy slept well into the day", like he is dragging himself forcefully away from those thoughts.

"When her mother came up to see her, she did not seem to notice any change whatever" his voice getting sharper/snippier on the last bit, ooooh boy he does not like Mrs. Westenra at all

I for one love her voice and delivery. She sounds so kind of sweetly absent, well-meant but just lost in her own head in a way. and obliviously making everything worse even just in the context of social awkwardness

van Helsing doubling down on complete silence today is so annoying. I know it's consistent with his character and is a fault and even understand how it happens but. aaaagh

how softly he says "I was much touched by their kindness." Jack wants so badly to be cared for doesn't he.

and even now he's finding it hard to go to sleep apparently! jeez.

[kroosluvr]

hi!! as a fellow royal trio-truther ive been ADORING and loving your posts so much <3 you mentioned that you've like mentally re-wired shusumi so i was curious if you had a list of head-canons for how they develop in the game/post-game!! Im super curious to hear (: also any head-canons for the akesumi dynamic would be great bc I hate how little the game developed them together !!!

OMGGGGGGGGG HAYYYYYYYYYY ok so. first. look at this (idr if i posted this here already but if i did look again heh..)

ok now ill actually talk under the cut

note that some of this is headcanon territory bc i just be frolicking at this point

some backstory i fell in love w sumi as soon as her art was revealed i was like omfg peak design PEAKKKKKK i love her so much so i was really excited abt her but i feel like there were so many loose ends w her confidant and namely her crush on protag sometimes doing her a disservice (it turned ppl off from her (understandable bc i also dislike when writers make a female character out to be dependent on a male character) but also made other ppl weird abt her in the same breath....... shivers. people who overly-romanticize/sexualize mentally ill characters (especially girls/women) freak me out sorry

anyway that put me off frm p5 fandom for a hot minute. BUT regardless. i think people often focus on like "shy cute sadgirl kouhai crush-on-protag" for her which on top of atlus's.......mediocre handling of her also does her character a disservice... shes so multilayered!! she houses such insane convoluted levels of distress and fear and anger and reluctance and most of all STUBBORNNESS. i think her headstrong personality is not really emphasized in fandom but i can totally see it (maybe its just me but).

ok moving on to my shsm delusions i think to turn sumire's canon crush on its head i want to make them doomed to never get together. i think 3rd semester is so tense and high-emotion that royal trio are so deeply intertwined w each other:

like they all are mildly-to-a-lot suicidal so they hold onto each other so tightly to make sure none of them spirals and does anything bad. i think in the end they just want the other two to be Okay, even if they themself doesn't. if the other two are ok, then it's all good.

ok back to shsm LMAO i think seeing their relationship as like an odd high-emotion situation makes sense. they love each other, obviously, and provide each other comfort, but the idea of a relationship slips thru their fingers like water. is that right...? is that how it is? like i said up there they just crumble under the weight of their own love. tldr theyre in no place to "date" each other........ but they have their "almost." they're inseparable, they love spending time with each other, but knowing in the back of their heads that it won't last, and they'll have to leave it be one day. "sometimes when i really love someone i leave them alone forever." peak shsm to me. "let's run away together - but what if it's not enough? what if all of this fear and sadness still stays? i take a man down to the river and he throws away his sadness but hes still left with his hands, he's still left with the river (paraphrased richard siken). peak shsm to me. i think they try to treat eachother so softly and gently that it fucks it all up, actually. peak shsm to me. it's not codependency in the sense that theyre not trying to save each other - they're just trying to salvage out some love from it all. all of these terrible things that happened: there's still love, right? there's still love. but the pain can't all be sifted out, and everything still hurts. but they still love. (they just don't date or even talk to each other much after graduating and i think they talk to akechi but to each other its suddenly COMPLICATED. i hate these guys)

ironically i think if you throw akechi in the mix it stabilizes out and i think shuakesumi could totally have a happy married ending. but shsm as a pair i dont see endgame for them. peak for me is that theyre in love and then they spend the rest of their lives trying to forget each other (they don't)

(If this sounds ridiculous and stupid im sorry. i just like shoving too-many-emotions onto my favs sometimes (a lot of the time))

IN REGARDS TO AKESUMI i think my latest 2 comics describe how i feel abt them pretty well!!! link 1 and link 2. actually i think akesumi's friendship is a great way for me to explore how i see/portray/feel about sumire, because i see them as way more similar than the game pays attention to. they're both stuck in their ways: sumire in her cowardice, hiding from the incident and refusing to move on, and akechi entrenched in his own traumas and feeling like he doesn't deserve more than that. their self-hatred manifests in two opposite ways but its very similar at the core. they both like. have no fucking clue what they're doing in terms of handling their pasts so that's why i think them working together to get around their own respective traumas is so fascinating: akechi is terrible at it, pushing sumire too far, but at the same time that perspective is something that she needs. meanwhile, her sensitive and observant personality shows akechi that like, you can have This too: a soft, good love. to have someone care about you unconditionally, so gently. you deserve that, too. yeah i can explode my head off now

i did not proofread this.

[elvisslut]

𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬

Elvis x reader

Warnings-none,strong language, fluff thats it:)

Summary-Elvis come off the stage with a little doubt in his ability to please a crowd, trying to help that and rudely getting interrupted you find out that he just needs a little bit of love.

Sitting back with joe and jerry as Elvis sang his final song, talking about the less important things; which was a luxury for anyone in the group that was deemed ‘the Memphis mafia’ a few years ago.

Hearing clicks from the familiar boots, telling you and the guys elvis was almost down the hall to the room, you all knew he’d want out of his suit and in regular clothes in the matter of seconds.

With the guys shuffling out you stayed back wanting to talk to him a bit in the privacy of his dressing room, elvis walked in slouching slightly from the weight of the jewels on his jumpsuit.

“Did you have fun?” You ask with a smile, getting up out of the way of the curtain so he could change in his own privacy sitting on the top of the vanity in that room.

“The crowd was good..” he answers softly going behind the curtain and closing it, peeling the sweaty jumpsuit off and throwing it over the curtain rod.

“Did you not like the songs? Isn’t this your first time doing burning love though?” You frown to yourself as you try to think of what he didn’t like.

“Yeah, but it’s pissin’ me off to stand there an’ sing the same damn thing with different words.” He huffs getting in his regular a little less sweaty clothes.

“I know..maybe you could change up the set list, here..” you trail off grabbing a pen and gift shop bag of the vanity-that being the only paper available.

“What songs do you like to sing?” You ask pulling your knee up and laying the paper-bag on it to write.

“Honey i don’ think-” you’re quick to cut him off, really not wanting to have him doubt himself or his show right now. “Shut up, what songs do you like singing?” You ask again, earning a exasperated sigh as he opened the curtain.

“That one tonight would be a good opener i s’pose..” he muttered, walking to the chair in front of you. “Mhm and what else?” You hum writing down the song and a note in parenthesis; opening song.

“Honey-” you roll your eyes at his attempt to protest again and cut him off. “I said shut up. What. Songs. Do. You. Like?” You say pronouncing the words individually.

He sighs and shakes his head. “I don’ know honey..maybe how great thou art? An’..are ya lonesome tonight” he says rubbing his temple and his forehead as he tries to think of some songs.

“Good thank you..more” you say in a bit of a strict tone, writing down his answers. “Honey can we-“ you let out a long heavy sigh rolling your eyes again. “Elvis..I’m trying to help you enjoy your shows here can you help me figure out how to help you?” You huff putting your leg down as well as the paper bag and pen.

“I don’ think ‘m allowed to be switchin’ up the set list” he say’s looking up at you, his brows frowned upward. You mentally awe at the sight before reaching over and patting his cheek. “As your stage manager honey i allow you to switch up the songs..as for the people who run the way it goes in the musical part of it all..i changed the songs.” You chuckle giving him a smile.

“Maybe we can just..switch it up another day? ‘M tired an’ I just wanna go to bed” he says timidly leaning against your hand, you let out a softer sigh this time and nod.

“Okay E. Ill walk up to the room with you I need to go up there anyhow” you say pushing him back a bit with your foot and hopping off the vanity.

“You feel better being in your..clothes?” You ask the word ‘regular’ definitely not being the word to describe his style. “Much” he chuckles softly getting up and starting the walk with you up to the suite he was staying in.

“Do you get to bring lisa next tour? Or atleast get her when you get back home?” You ask missing her on your own accord but knowing he’d had to have been dying to see her after it being so long.

“Cilla ain’t called me to tell me yet..but i hope i can do both..she’d love the lights in Vegas an’ she likes car rides i wanna take her on a road trip” he said with heavy notes of hope in his voice. “If you get her when you get home you better call me, presley. If you don’t i’m whooping your ass.” You say half jokingly, you’d punch him so hard in his beautiful bicep if he didn’t tell you- in all honesty.

“Okay no need to threaten me..ya should get your head checked out..always threaten us guys..you’re a scary woman” he says with a laugh. You quirk a brow and punch his arm. “Hey! ‘M just bein’ honest..damn you’re provin’ my point” he hollers rubbing his arm in the area you punched it.

“You’re just weak” you say rolling your eyes at him and walking into his room. You head towards the coffee table grabbing the files of paper work you left in there and turning to see his chest mere inches from your face.

“Can i help you?” You ask looking up to his face. “I wanna know if ya can stay in here tonight..i don’..i don’ wanna be alone, i ain’t had a great day..” he trails off biting his lip with embarrassment as his ears turn a soft shade of red.

“Yeah sure E. Just get me a blanket i’ll stay on the couch.” You say softly, him shaking his head at you making you frown in confusion. “Stay in my bed please..i’d still be alone if ya slept in here.” His voice is a little shaky..almost like the boy was about to cry and you were the one who was going to make or break that barrier.

“Yeah..are you sure elvis? I can sleep on the floor or something” you suggest earning another head shake. “No my bed” he says his voice a little less shaky; you nod and turn around setting the file back to the table.

“Thats fine i need to go to my room and grab a-“ he shakes his head cutting you off. “No- no just..i got stuff ya can use..just stay an’ don’ leave i need ya here..i need ya everywhere..” he trails off again, making you frown in confusion again.

“Elvis..what do you mean?” You laugh a little making a face. “Baby ya know what i mean..i wanna be with ya, it would be a lot easier to see ya too..bein’ my stage manager i could see ya more then i seen cilla” he say, making a good point.

You look everywhere but his eyes, knowing you wanted this conversation to happen long ago when you were teenagers and you were very comically in-love, like a teen girl with elvis now days.

“Be with me? Elvis are you okay? Do you need to go to bed? Yeah, here come with me ill help you down” you say grabbing his hand leading him to the bedroom part of the suite. “No doll, i mean what i said. I wanna be with ya..forever” he confirms, pulling you back to him and wrapping his arms around you.

“I don’ think i ever wanted anythin’ more than you” he adds holding you to his chest and leaning his chin on the top of your head. The moment was sweet but you quickly pulled away to look at him making it short lived.

“Elvis i don’t think you’re thinking clearly. Me?” You ask earning a nod and smile. “I’ve loved ya since the day we got in that motorcycle accident, ya all scrapped up an’ still smilin’ it really got me turnin’ my head ya know?” He says with a laugh.

“ELVIS! That was 15 mother fucking years ago! You could have told at least a little sooner!?” You shout, mentally you were bouncing off walls just hearing him say he wanted to be with you and jackhammering off of them as he told you he loved you for 15 years.

15 years before

“Do ya wanna go ride around the block?” Elvis asks as you look over his new bike in amazement. “Do i?! Do you?” He chuckles at your response and gets on starting the bike up and nodding for you to get on.

You happily get on wrapping your arms around him and laying your head on his back, taking in the smell of his new leather jacket mixing with his cologne.

He drove down and WAY further than the block. Going somewhere you haven’t even been; even with touring and all. He went up what he called deadman’s turn, and of course going 40 and in the middle of the road a car turns the corner too, which he would have moved for but being the reason he called it deadman’s corner was because you couldn’t see no-one turning till it was too late.

He lucked out and swerved just nearly scraping the car, then apparently he unlucked out. Complete losing control of the steering and gasping a bit as the motorcycle rocked down throwing you and him off it before slamming into a tree completely totaling the bike.

He sits up and looks over himself a bit before snapping his head up and looking around for you remembering you on the back of the bike. You sit up and stand walking towards the bike completely unfazed by the road rash the cuts and the scraps all over you.

“Are ya okay honey?! Oh god mamas gonna kill me for hurtin’ ya..” he says looking over your face and wiping and blood off with his thumb. “Elvis im fine, are you? Your bike aint” you say pointing out the obvious.

“Yeah ‘m okay..an’..i think she could make it home” he says with laugh, looking to the bike. “I hope you weren’t expecting to pick up any girls with it..they only thing you’ll be picking up is a tow truck guy” you say half jokingly, because he’d really be getting a tow truck guy.

“Haha yeah” he says with a fake laugh, pulling you to him again just to recheck that you’re okay. “Elvis stop im fine” you chuckle swatting his hands away. “I know ‘m just checkin’ to see if it knocked a brain back in this hollow head of yours” he sasses, making the both of you laugh.

He laughed that gorgeous hiccupy laugh and nodded. “I didn’ mean to keep it from ya that long i was just scared i’d lose ya” he said, you very much would have stayed whether you loved him that way or not.

“You could just kiss me” you say a bit confused actually, on why he didn’t. Thats what he did with almost all his other girlfriends. Kissed them longingly in a private room chatting after and bam Elvis Presley had a new girlfriend.

He chuckles and nods, leaning his head down and pressing his lips to yours and oh god. You were in trouble. One taste of his lips was like a taste of…really really good steak that you wanted to eat every day, for 24 hours. They were addicting, and as soft as they looked, not dry or wet but just right.

The kiss itself was passionate and filled with nothing but love and affection for one another. It was everything you’ve ever dreamed of.

“Come lay with me..i just wanna be close to you..” he says pulling away and smiling down at you. You nod and go to the bed with him, crawling under the blankets and warping your arms around his shoulders as his face buries in the crook of your neck, his lips pressing softly kisses against your skin.

His legs tangling with yours as his soft and messy hair tickles at your jaw. This is all you every wanted and its all you’ll ever need. “I love you too” you say softly, realizing you hadn’t said it back.

“You do?” He mumbles against your neck. “I do..and I always will.. like i have.” You answer, bringing one of your hands up and messing with his hair, earning a satisfied hum from him as he leans his head against your touch.

“You’re my best girl..ya an’ lisa will always be my best girls..maybe one day ya can be her step mama” your brows shoot up as he mumbles. “Woah now there Presley. I have been your girlfriend a few minutes and you’re talking about marriage?” You ask with a chuckle moving your head a bit to press a kiss again his head.

“Lets save that talk for later” you add earning a chuckle and nod against your neck. “What songs do you like singing?” You ask deciding to give it another try, he lets out a sigh and pulls away laying on his back with a smirk.

“Ya killed the the mood” he says looking at you with his goofy smirk still on his lips, your lips part a bit as you push his shoulder. “I was just trying to help” you say before crawling up on his chest and wrapping your arms around him, laying your head against his big chest and listening to his heartbeat.

His arm going around you and his free hand going to your hair playing with it softly. “Your hair feels nice.” He says quietly. “Sing me a song” you say quite randomly making him chuckle. “What song?” He asks making you think.

“How about…here comes santa clause?” You ask. “Here comes- are ya in a Christmas mood?” He’s answers with a question, earning a nod from you. “Women its the middle of July” he laughs shaking his head. “Fine how about true love travels on a gravel road” you huff with a small pout.

“That i can do in the middle of july” he say with a chuckle, making you roll your eyes a bit. “You can sing Christmas songs too” you talk back earning a light swat on the back of the head. “Hey!” You holler making him laugh, his chest bouncing your head a bit. “Just sing asshole” you mumble.

“How many girls choose cotton dress worlds, when they can have satin and lace And stand by her man, never once letting shade touch her face How many hearts could live through all the winters We've known and still not be cold True love travels on a gravel road.” He sings to you softly, his hand gently running through your hair.

“Love is a stranger and hearts are in danger All through streets paved with gold For true love travels on a gravel road.

Down through the years we've had hard times and tears But they only helped our love grow And we'll stay together no matter how strong the wind blows Not once have I seen your blue eyes filled with envy Or stray from the one that you hold Oh true love travels on a gravel road.

Love is a stranger and hearts are in danger All through streets paved with gold For true love travels on a gravel road.

Yeah, true love travels on a gravel road. Mmmm True love travels on a gravel road. True love travels on a gravel road.” He softly finishes the song and leans his head up press a kiss to the top of your head like you did his earlier, hearing soft snores from you making him smile.

“Goodnight baby..” he says softly.

[renlyslittlerose]

Last week was the one year anniversary of me posting my first obikin fic, and over the last year being a part of the fandom has brought me so much joy and happiness and enthusiasm once again. Some of you knew me before 2019 and were aware that I was working on my Masters in the Classics, which included a massive thesis. While working on the thesis I was also working part-time at the museum, as well as battling a few chronic illnesses - some of which still affect me today - all of which drained me physically and emotionally. When I had finished my thesis and graduated from the program I was well and truly burnt out. 

 2020 was rough for everyone, and I was contented to just exist without doing much of anything that could be seen as creatively productive. But then 2020 came and passed and I thought maybe I should get back on the saddle, and started working on my own original story. I fell off of social media, didn’t interact in fandom, and tried to grind out a story that wasn’t working like I had hoped it would. 2021 and I still wasn’t ‘feeling it’; I had gone from writing about 1-2k words a day to 500 words a week - if I was lucky. A part of me wondered if I was tapped out for good, that I didn’t have it in me anymore, and that my thesis was my last creative outlet - my last hooray.  I know it sounds a bit dramatic, but when you go from creating almost every day since you were sixteen years old, to suddenly believe that the well has run dry is terrifying. Maybe I was done for good - maybe I wouldn’t create something I was proud of.

And then Kenobi came out. I was a massive prequels fan since I was nine years old and the Phantom Menace came out, and an even bigger Darth Vader fan, but I had never interacted with the fandom in any meaningful way. I was contented to just watch the films and the shows and leave it at that. But as I was watching I had the epiphany that Obi-Wan and Anakin were actually ~roommates all along. I started reading obikin fic, came back on tumblr to see what sort of fandom there was, and suddenly found myself with ideas again, and a desire to create something. 

So I wrote my first fic ‘Sacred to the Gods’ based off of a thesis I wrote during my undergrad about the psychology of a Greek demigod. It took me about a week to write, but in that time I had a lot of fun - the words started to come more easily, the vibes were there, and the passion was slowly but surely returning. One fic turned into another, and then another, and suddenly I had written two multi-chaptered long-form fics, some shorter multi-chaptered ones, and a bunch of oneshots, all about our favourite duo. 

And in the that span of time, not only was I able to rediscover my passion for writing and feel inspired again, but I met so many amazing, incredible, kind, passionate, creative people who welcomed me with open arms. I was used to fandom being sort of a gate-keepy thing, where if you were the new kid in town it would take you a while to work your way into any circles. But it didn’t happen with this fandom. I went up to a few people, held out my macaroni art, and was overjoyed to see them take it and immediately put it up on their fridge.

There are a lot of people I want to thank, and I should thank, from those who read my stuff, those who send me asks on tumblr, those who bookmark and kudos and comment, and those who followed me, but there isn’t any space to do all that. So I hope that a general ‘THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU’ will suffice. Thank you for giving me my passion back, thank you for supporting me, thank you for being an awesome community that has it’s issues, but still cares deeply about the art they’re creating, and who care about fostering a community. 

However, there are a few people I would specifically like to address, because I don’t think this post would be complete without you. I’ll put it behind a cut because this post is already cumbersome:

@bi-wan || My beloved! You were the first person to follow me on tumblr after reading one of my fanfictions, and the first to reach out to me to be my friend. Thank you for reaching your hand out to me and dragging me into the fold. Because of you I’ve made so many good friends who I treasure dearly - including you. 🥰

@ragnarlothcat || I feel like you and Cam are a packaged deal, and so I thank you for being curious about me and checking out my work, and for allowing me to occupy both you and Cam’s comfy little raccoon haven. You’re so supportive, and your work was some of the first I read in the fandom which truly secured my desire to be a part of it. Thank you 💖

@intermundia || I’ve told you this before, but you were the first person I approached in the fandom when I decided I wanted to dip my toes into the experience, and your warmth and welcoming nature secured my desires to be a part of this group. The fact that you support my stories and are so passionate about it really fuels my desires to keep creating (as well as feeding my ego). Thank you for being such a good presence in the fandom.👑

@theseptemberist || I have a feeling that Will told you about me, and I am so glad that he did because we’ve struck up such a friendship that I can’t see myself without. Our chats on discord over the past few months have been wonderful in so many ways that are too innumerous to say here. Thank you for sharing your heart, and for being so kind and empathetic. And thank you for sharing your encyclopedic knowledge of fandom tea ☕

@unspuncreature || Just like Rag and Cam come as a team, you and Cal (and Wren, even though I’ve never spoken to her but feel like I know her) are the trio that delight and entertain. Thank you for your brilliant art and creativity, thank you for letting me bounce all my ideas off of you, and thank you for collaborating with me. You’re brilliant 💗

@kyberkenobi || Beyond the fact that your filthy brain inspires me and delights me, and the fact that you’re willing to goed me on when I come up with something that’s delightfully nasty, your maturity when it comes to fandom is refreshing. At the threat of sounding like a proud grandma, you’re still so young and yet you’ve got a lot of shit figured out - most importantly, that fandom is supposed to be for fun and write what you want to write. Can’t wait for us to finally collaborate one of these days 💕

@dininginspace || What can I say? You’re a delight, you’re incredibly funny, you’re kind and understanding, and you’re the best cheerleader a loser like me could ask for. The fact that you jumped on the Buffy bandwagon when I drove by on it secures you as one of my favourite people. Thank you so much for your early and continued support 🧛‍♂️

@nuandia || Thank you for chatting with me all the time; keep up your writing, it’s brilliant and worth it, even if you doubt it sometimes. 💖

@grapenehifics || I had just finished watching MASH when you commented on Moonlight Serenade. The noise I made when I saw your username, followed by the continued joy I get whenever I see you on my dash or in my inbox, or when I see you’ve posted something new for the world to enjoy. 🧡

@palfriendpatine66 || You’re a delight. You’ve got things figured out, and how you can write so much with the life you’ve got is incredible. Keep going - you’re a gem. 💎

@binaryeclipse || Love chatting with you on discord, and being able to throw out random things about Canada into the chat that doesn’t need explaining - you just get it. Especially when it comes to Alberta politics. It doesn’t always feel like a safe space out there when you’re an Albertan who loves her province but also hates so many things about it, but you make me feel as if I can be a contradictory mess and still feel as if I belong in Canada. Your muse will come back soon, I trust in this ✨

@treescape || Your work is sublime and an inspiration. I read your fics first when I went hunting for things to read, and was immediately captivated. When you followed me back and weren’t at all weirded out by me bounding over to you like an excitable golden retriever, I was very grateful - I am very grateful. Can’t wait to see what you create next. 💛

@starsdies || Thank you for listening to me; thank you for being so inspiring; thank you for helping with community events and exchanges. And thank you for streaming The Last of Us for me because I’m too cheap to buy HBO Max. 🙏

@tessiete || You fact-checked the details I put into Moonlight and all I can say is THANK YOU. Sometimes I feel like I’m getting too lost in the details, but its people like you who google that shit that makes me feel good about my obsessions. 🌸

[toujokaname]

Mischief / Episode 1

Characters: Rinne, HiMERU, Kohaku, Niki

"But it's kinda creepy... Bein' loved or hated by folks I don't even know, in places I ain't never heard of. Guess that's just what bein' an idol's all about, huh?"

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[ Read on my site for a better viewing experience using Ois~su ♪ ]

Season: Spring

Location: Café Cinnamon

Rinne: Yo, yo~♪

Still as cozy as ever, huh? You PBB lovebirds! Shoutout to the most lovey-dovey couple of the year! Gyahahahaha! ☆

HiMERU: It's really quite the talent how you've mastered the art of making others feel so uncomfortable the instant you open your mouth.

Rinne: Haah? I'm praising you, so rejoice, will ya? Thanks to you two, Crazy:B's having a once-in-a-lifetime jackpot streak!

C'mon, look at my phone! The notifications just won't stop dinging!

HiMERU: Is it because you're getting canceled again?

Rinne: No waaay, I've already been locked outta all my accounts 'cause I kept getting canceled.

These notifs? They're job offers for us.

People're begging for Crazy:B to show up on their shows, movies, interviews, photoshoots—

The offers are rollin' in like cha-ching, cha-ching, cha-chiiing!

Kohaku: Wow, sounds just like one of those pachinko machines.

Rinne: Pretty much what it feels like! It's not every day you get to cash in this big, right?

Though honestly, part of me's thinking, "What's goin' on all of a sudden? This is creepy as hell."

Not so long ago, everyone was like, "Crazy:B's gotta die!" Hated our guts, wouldn't give us any gigs—remember?

Niki: Nom, nom, nom... Maybe the public's finally recognizing all the hard work we put in last year?

Kohaku: I was wonderin' why you'd been so quiet after comin' in with Rinne-han. You're eatin' again, Niki-han...?

Niki: I've gotta eat all the time! Or I'll die!

Kohaku: So you've already got the lifestyle of an insect or somethin'.

Niki: Anyway, I don't really get it, but isn't more work a good thing? Maybe it's 'cause our latest Matrix got good reviews?

Rinne: They haven't even aired all the episodes yet. The reviews aren't bad, but y'know, people keep saying, "Well, considering it's Akan-san’s project..." It's basically just like that.

Niki: Hmm... We worked our butts off for that, so I hope it ends up with a good rep. It'd make our struggles feel a little more rewarded.

Rinne: Well, it's rare for stuff like karmic retribution to happen in society. It's always been the case that ill weeds grow apace, while good people get screwed over. Life's a piece of shit like that.

HiMERU: Those words carry a certain weight coming from you, Amagi.

Rinne: So yeah, this time around, it's best to think of it as just dumb luck.

HiMERU: Meaning?

Rinne: Meaning that it ain't like we worked our asses off, poured blood, sweat and tears into doing our best, and got rewarded for being earnest.

It's like tripping over a winning lottery ticket.

If you start seeing causality in that, next thing you know, you'll end up like me—acting all unnaturally nice to everyone before hitting the pachinko parlor, and creeping people out.

That's just me tryna stack up some good karma, hoping for a fat payoff in return.

It ain't like I got reincarnated as a kind-hearted, good person.

Niki: Wow, I don't get it when you use pachinko analogies! Sooo, toss in a food metaphor for me to chew on instead!

Rinne: Mm, but if we start on food, we'll get sidetracked. Y'know how when you're feeling happy, food often tastes better? There's a sort of cause-and-effect relationship, yeah?

HiMERU: —In short, what you're trying to say is, "this is just a fluke, so don't get too carried away."

Rinne: Yup, bingo! ♪ Maaan, it's always a relief how good at comprehension you are, Merumeru!

HiMERU: That's because there's always a very incomprehensible person nearby. Constantly.

However, it seems like this PBB thing really has become a big deal...

Since it's all happening online, it's easy to feel like it doesn't actually affect reality.

Rinne: Well, it ain't like the internet's some kinda isekai, y'know. It's connected to reality, no doubt about it.

And aren't there a lotta people these days who feel like the internet's more real than reality?

Kohaku: Uh. So, we're talkin' about how Crazy:B's gettin' a buncha jobs, and it's all 'cause of this PBB thing?

Rinne: I dunno what else could've caused it. All the requests are like, "we want HiMERU-kun and Oukawa-kun, the super popular PBB, on our show," and stuff like that.

Kohaku: We're really that popular... Me and HiMERU-han, huh...

Hmm, I guess that... I'm right pleased folks love me and all, but not knowin' why makes me kinda uneasy.

Niki: Not gonna lie, it's none of my business, so I don't really care~♪

Rinne: Me neither~♪

Kohaku: These guys... Well, I guess if we're gettin' more work and it's all good stuff, I don't really got any complaints.

But it's kinda creepy... Bein' loved or hated by folks I don't even know, in places I ain't never heard of.

Guess that's just what bein' an idol's all about, huh?

[ ☆ ]

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[celenawrites]

TW - just a vent about fandom stuff.

I feel kinda sad about how some creators in the CoD fandom have now abandoned creating content for the game series due to the demanding nature of other fans who used to consume their content. (fics, art, etc)

Like, these artists/writers in the fandom write fanfics/create art, FOR FREE OF COST and dedicate SO MUCH TIME AND ENERGY to their craft despite not getting much in return, only to deal with senseless hate, ignorance, stupidity and get treated as content generation machines; instead of actual human beings with jobs and studies and friends and families that need their time and attention as well.

A lot of us folks who write or draw do this as a hobby. As an outlet for our creativity, and we find this community for the media we are currently fixated on and we create things inspired by it cuz it brings us joy. IT MAKES US HAPPY SO WE CREATE CONTENT FOR IT!!! And then to see the same fandom/community and their horrendous behaviour driving away the creators from the fandom and the media itself is just....sad. Very disheartening.

Like I miss so many of the creators who have just given up on CoD cuz of this issue. Their works have inspired me to start writing again. They make me wish I start learning how to draw and paint again too. Their works have touch my soul, and made me happy - gave me something to look forward to every day.

But I'd much rather they leave the fandom and take care of themselves and their life, than to succumb to this weird pressure fans and fan-content consumers put on them, y'know?

Plus recently, I've seen a lot of racist and stereotypical prejudices from some CoD fans (and even some creators). I know a lot of them are new to the fandom, I was too. But I took an active effort to learn more about this game series. (and it's an ongoing effort cuz I cannot afford to play the games so I have to settle for wiki articles, gameplays, and comics) And I see so many fans not give a shit about it. They treat these characters as blank canvases to fulfill their hypersexual fantasies. (I like me a good smut fic or two, don't get me wrong) But that just makes it impossible for newer fans to get to know more about the lore and the characters. I had just finished watching the campaign for MW, and let me tell you, there are so many complex missions, characters and storylines to explore and depict through fanfics, and it's insane so many people disregard it for their whimsies so easily. That will just stunt your growth as an artist/writer! Read up on the lore, watch the game plays(the OGs and the remakes!) , maybe even read the comics!!! I promise you won't regret it ever!!!

Also, please! For all that is holy, stop putting these complex fictional characters into restricted boxes and label them. That just makes them so one-dimensional. Like -

Soap is not always cheery and bubbly and your fellow bestie. Simon is not an abuser/emotionally dead asshole just because he has a hard time expressing his emotions like everyone else. König, despite the lack of storyline/lore we have on him, isn't an uwu social anxiety babygirl, damn it. Stop excluding Gaz from your HCs and fics! He's a complex man with so many interesting things to explore about his overall story and psyche as a part of 141. He's not always begging for Price's approval either, he can and has objected to how questionable their methods have been regarding their field/work. Stop excluding Gaz from 141 stuff! It makes you look like a POS, and a lot of the people who exclude him are doing so for....pretty racist reasons. As a POC, this shit sucks balls. Also stop stereotyping POC characters in CoD - Alejandro, Rudy, Valeria, Gaz, Farah....just stop. Their ethnicity or race should not deter you from writing about them in a way that doesn't come across as prejudiced and ill-informed.

Also, not necessarily a rant, but please consider/remember the fact that the military has always been a bit of a morally dubious field of work irl, and just cuz CoD is military-centric and features characters who work in the army or PMC and take out bad guys - that doesn't take away from the violent history military has and how they have contributed to the deterioration of many countries (mainly in the Middle East). Heck, even these characters in the CoD games have done extremely unethical things and employed treacherous methods in order to get the job done. These characters may be good people in fiction, but that doesn't mean that they have done great things or have always stayed morally pure. Explore the dubious nature of it all - explore how dark and harrowing it can be for them and for the people that unwittingly or knowingly get involved in their work. It's dark and twisted but it's crucial since it's inspired from our world and it's necessary for us as humans and as artists to explore such themes and analyse them! It's crucial for the soul!!!

[digitulworld]

theres a lot of things about bob that interest me and i want to know more about. because i am a lunatic. warning for dozens upon dozens of paragraphs about my favorite evil man

first of all. his pendant. obviously he lived through multiple gunshots and getting run over, but because the pendant was injured, he weakened. once it was removed, he died. i doubt he'll come back nor will the cult want him to come back. then again we have no idea what role he played in the cult or if he was in it just for the immortality

he does Not strike me as the type of guy to willingly involve himself in the supernatural, and in his concept art we see that he doesnt wear the robe all the time, instead hes in his boys & grills outfit serving food to the other members. tldr hes just the cults lunchlady

i do NOT know if bob thinks of himself more highly than others. i have a very weird theory that bob eats human flesh because he knows he cannot succumb to any illness that follows from it thanks to the pendant he wears. it might be why hes so eager to eat candy n shit off the floor without thinking twice; he thinks he'll be fine! he can indulge as much as he wants and flaunts his knowledge on how dangerous consuming human flesh is at the same time, or how common drinking blood is, or how to kill someone quickly and painlessly. he seems like hed be a showoff... he knows too much. or maybe hes always just been really interested in meat and eventually got a little Too into it

also i am aware eating humans at all can make you sick, cooked or not, but i like to believe that because he puts the meat in greasy burgers, people assume whatever sickness they get from it is from the fact that its fast food, and not assume theres human meat in whatever they ate

related to this, theres gotta be some connection between him starting off most of his lines with "did you know..." then having one of his last lines start with "yall dont know anything!"

second of all... his connection with lila also interests me. when it comes to the fat + thin thieves, we know theyve been trying to collect images and items from her husband who is implied (or confirmed) to be part of the cult. therefore they attempt to break in multiple times. bob does the same thing with the intent to kill, more than once, and im wondering if he plans to kill her for consumption, or for the cult. that or he does intend on killing her, and has permission from the cult to do so. orrr hes doing all this against their wishes...

its hard to pinpoint any specific motives from him other than he just wants to Eat. he gets easily sidetracked when trying to target someone, distracted when attempting to corner and kill someone, and frustrated once he begins to realize after a Long day of effort that he will not get what he wants

this isnt to say bob is an idiot. he clearly has experience. he uses the kids motives (wanting candy) as a lure, and does what they want (hide & seek) in order to come across as "safer" for them to approach, before he eventually gets them. it just feels like he treats this like a game. he spends so long savoring his time stalking and playing with the victims, then gets upset when they manage to escape. what did you think was gonna happen man

i say all this even though this is your typical villain behavior stuff. a villains gotta act a little stupid and egotistical in order for the protagonists to win yknow. but its still fun to tie this in with his gluttony, since it shows that not only is his desire to eat others his motive, but also his biggest downfall

all this considered, once the pendant was removed, i have left to wonder if it was just the gunshots that killed him, or the arm he ate not long ago

also something something the bullet holes on bobs chest look like the heads of the cult robes. did they know

TO SUM EVERYTHING UP: i cannot be typing all this for a guy named bob this is ridiculous

[mitcheechee]

Hey, new follower here! (I'm actually in the wrong account so please don't mind me being anonymous!) I really love your art and I mainly wanted to say that your art and style is amazing and beautiful! Secondarily, do you have any tutorials or tips on drawing bodies, hands and I noticed you do blood? I understand if you'd rather not answer that; if so just only the first half! Love your art! Thanks for existing (if that makes sense)❤️

wah... first i just wanna say tysm!!! youre so sweet 😭

i unfortunately dont have any tutorials or anything made already and i dont really want to make any as of right now because i feel like i have a long way to go in terms of learning how to properly draw a lot of things. since i don't know what im doing id feel really lousy putting out a tutorial when i dont even have a lot of the basics down yet...

im gonna blab under the cut about tips (not really tips on drawing bodies themselves as a guideline, but what has helped me practice and thus allowed me to get better at drawing bodies in my own art), so u dont have to read all that if it doesnt interest u! but regardless thank u again for being so sweet!!! sorry i couldnt give u what u wanted.. maybe one day... 😭

again this is just how i practice, but its GENUINELY helped me get so much better.

all i can say as far as tips is to definitely practice with references as much as u can, it really will help u improve. i know people often dont like that advice too much but its really true... every time i use references to practice for a bit i can tell it helps me, and looking back at older art i know its true. i dont often use guidelines (i really need to...), or at least not in the sense that i do in most of the guides i see so i feel like i cant give much else in terms of advice tho, other than that.

anyway, its one thing to just use a reference, but really trying to get it down and learn it (learn the body, anatomy, how to draw it all) so u carry that knowledge on is sorta different, for me

what has helped me to really learn is this method of practice where i

draw a reference photo based off what i see

trace the photo

overlay both my trace and the first drawing i made

go back and choose key points on the photo/trace where i was very off and mark them as a little dot/line and then try to fix the original sketch with those dots/lines to match the photo (look below to understand what i mean LOL sorry)

try and draw it again from scratch based on what i see visually

and for number 4, what i mean is this:

lets say the 2nd is my visual (rough) drawing based off of the original

overlaying my original sketch on the reference i can see where a lot of points are off!

ill make note of a few of the areas that were very off and mark them, then get rid of the reference underneath. ill still look at it as a guide on the side, but overall try to just change the original sketch to match it instead of directly tracing!

i feel like this may not have been exactly what u mean as far as tips for drawing bodies, but ive found that in order to grasp them better in a way that helps u draw them on ur own, doing studies like this really helps! for me, at least, it allows me to better store things in my memory--because looking at the image and practicing doesnt feel like it really CEMENTS any knowledge, but seeing where i went wrong and then working backwards to try and alter it shows me where im lacking in skill, and helps me use that information later!

doing this allows me to understand how bodies take up space. it has helped me to see the body as more of a tangible thing while i draw freehand, and do it more accurately as well, instead of it feeling like its. a limp noodle i cant grasp LOL

i will say, tho, that for hands especially i almost always use my hands as a reference for what i want. like i dont even have a guide for that in terms of what i do to draw them out or guidelines i follow, i just straight up draw them based off what i see or imagine, i dont really do those step by step guidelines...

im sorry again i couldnt rly give u what u wanted, i just dont think im at that level where i can truly give any advice since im not good enough (yet ! we hope) for a genuine tutorial. if u mean something as far as like... body shapes and stuff im still not rly there yet either. i hope this helps even a tiny bit tho, if u read this far!!!

[beanieman]

I decided to put YTTD characters to some songs that I think the lyrics match earlier. Now I’m ‘forcing’ this duty onto you since I want to see whether our opinions match on some of them.

•Abnormality Dancing Girl

•Meltdown

•ECHO

•Appetite Of A People Pleaser

•Kakakuri Pierrot

Now some of my own-

•BETTER OFF WORSE

•Non-Breath Oblige

•Bug

•HIBANA

•Fixer

•Orthodoxia (ignoring the meaning of the actual song here)

•Bocca Della Verita

Anyways. Have fun.

Oh a bit of a challenge! I'll gladly take it since I'm always happy to indulge in YTTD related stuff!

Abnormality Dancing Girl - This is such a Shin song. It's about changing who you are and feeling as if you're going crazy while doing so! I think the lyrics that most back up my choice to pair this song with him is: "I can't go on like this. Constantly being manipulated by useless measures of worth. I've already come to hate this life. So, I think I'll restart my life.

The Rest Undercut

Meltdown - I'm going with Sara for this one! I interpret this song to be about haunting grief, which is something Sara has felt since the death of Joe. She feels guilty like she caused it, which how the lyrics "In my dream I strangled you. In the languid afternoon light. I watched your throat, thin and twitching. I watched your throat, thin and twitching." could come into play.

ECHO - This is so Maple core. The lyrics "What the hell's going on?! Can someone tell me please? Why I'm switching faster than the channels on TV? I'm black, then I'm white. No! Something isn't right! My enemy's invisible, I don't know how to fight!" match so well to when she's freaking out in the pink room.

Appetite Of A People Pleaser - Maybe Ranmaru for this one? The song could be about his need to make Sara happy despite how self destructive it is to himself. The lyrics I think most back up my choice are: "Maybe if I try a little harder, it will be okay. One day. Keep on eating more and more. Divide my life away into servings. And go beyond the point of no return."

Kakakuri Pierrot - This is another Sara mourning Joe song to me! Mostly because of the multiple references to being a clown, and I consider the Joesara theme of the game to be "Clown Song." The lyrics I think most back up my idea are: "It's so easy, and yet so difficult, for I can move on as soon as I accept reality. Unable to believe it, not wanting to believe it, I must be a clown inside your mind, aren't I?"

BETTER OFF WORSE - This gives me Alice during the band era vibes. The song is more overdramatic then what he probably felt about the situation, but I do think it has some basis! The lyrics that make me think this are: "Bleed out for audience approval Tragic, but perfectly on schedule. You think by now that we would have learned. Behind every piece of art is a human to be heard. Rejecting change to keep you there."

Non-Breath Oblige - I think this fits Shin the most since the lyrics all seem like a long winded rant he'd go on! For example: "I'll raise the white flag to the tyranny of the majority. Suppress my ill feelings and say cheese." Plus the chorus has Shin written all over it: "I want to live but I'm told to die."

Bug - This song feels like a panic attack so I'm assigning it to Shin. The lyrics that make me think this are: "Well! It's a desperate situation, I'm doomed to fall no matter what I do! Surely, surely sinking, no, no, NO!"

HIBANA - Another song that I think is Maple and Midori coated! Mostly about their messed up "romance" that Maple was forced to feel despite how poorly Midori treated her. The lyrics that make me think this is: "Come, come, mute the complaints. Hesitating over stupid things. You're kidding, huh? Ahaha!. Seems like unbreakable walls are being pressed for a kiss."

Fixer - Again, I think this is a Shin song! He really fits Vocaloid tunes! The lyrics that make me think this are: "With this shoddy excuse for a smile, I let time fly by, acting as if I know what I’m talking about. I never wanted to end up like this."

Orthodoxia - I know you said ignore the meaning but the song seems to fit ASU-NARO as a whole considering we hear that it may have some basis in religion in Kai's mini episode. The lyrics that I think back up my point are: "I take people’s lives away, devouring even their wishes. I’ve been living by trampling on the misfortune of others. The world was not such a wonderful place after all! If you flatter your idol, then your life will be saved. There is no such thing as correct teachings!"

Bocca Della Verita - I think this fits Maple and Midori since I could see it playing over the scene where she attacks him. The lyrics I think back up this idea the most are: "I-I-I quite hate you, w-w-w-w-what is wrong? You're still so frivolous, while I'm noble. I drag you across the dry floor. If you weren't around, I would be a goddess by now!"

[vorchagirl]

If you want to: what if they had met as children for Rennah and James? (or any characters that spark joy with you!)

Okay - so this works pretty well because Rennah and Vega actually discovered that they were both in San Diego at the same time when they were kids. She was in the Reds, and he would have been younger - a kid who's drug addled and abusive father drove him out of the house more often than not.

Also this turned out longer than I thought, so I've put it behind a cut! The art is by Alex Coggin Art :)

James kicked a rock along the beach, too disappointed and angry that he'd come home to an empty house again to pay attention to the night sky like he'd planned. When his mother was alive she would have greeted him with a warm hug and a snack, but since she'd died he had to fend for himself.

But still, he'd hoped that this time, on his birthday of all days, maybe his father would have cared enough to be there.

James sighed.

His father had gone out the night before on a red sand bender and still hadn't returned. For all he knew, his father was dead in a gutter. And for all he cared, he could be. He didn't give a shit anymore.

Nothing felt right in the world since his mother died. His father couldn't be bothered buying him clothes, shoes or anything he needed for school, and the other kids gossiped about it behind his back. They didn't dare say anything to his face; he was too big and scary for that. But they talked about him, sometimes not even bothering to wait until the 'urchin' was out of the room.

He kicked the rock even harder, tears filling his eyes as his ill aimed kick hit more sand than rock, and the pale beach sand sprayed out around him. He heard a muttered curse from the dune near him, and someone sat up, scrubbing their eyes and shaking sand from their clothes.

"Watch it, or I'll knock your teeth down your throat, asshole!"

The shape in the dunes formed into a tall woman with long dark hair as she stood up. No, James amended as she stumbled out, looking every bit as high as his father had the last time he'd seen him, it wasn't a woman, it was a girl. She looked to be only a few years older than himself, but she was tall - easily the same height as him.

She swayed unsteadily, the crackle of biotics in her eyes as she sank back to the sand with a curse and lay back. Her eyes were red, whether it was from the red sand she'd obviously taken, or the tears running down her face he didn't know. She groaned and let out a sob as she flopped back, milky white skin showing through her ripped black jeans.

James hesitated awkwardly, half-wanting to run away from this reminder of his father's own addiction, and half-wanting to help a girl in distress.

"Are you okay?" he asked hesitantly. "I can call someone if you need help-"

She let out a choked sob that slowly turned into a laugh and held up her hands, making a square with her fingers as she framed something in the night sky.

"No one can help me," she muttered thickly. "But one day I'll get away. One day I'll go up there." The girl pointed up at the stars. "Fuck 'em all. They can't stop me."

Her hands were bloodied, he noticed. Her knuckles were raw as though she'd been fighting, and her pale face was dotted with blood.

He had a feeling the girl was in trouble, or that she'd been through something awful. But he wasn't sure what he should do, so he just stood there, listening as she rattled off the constellations above them, her voice slurring more and more.

"One day I'll see them all," she finished. "One day..."

"Yeah," James wasn't entirely sure what he was agreeing to as he interrupted her gently, but he looked up at he night sky. The stars were brighter than usual tonight, and they shimmered above. "One day I'll get away too."

The girl seemed to find this funny and she glanced over at him, tears shining on her cheeks. "What's your deal, kid? Looking to join up?" She flashed a gang tattoo at him and James stumbled back a step when he recognised the mark of the Tenth Street Reds. She laughed again. "Didn't think so. Go home."

Stubbornly, he stepped closer again, embarassed that he'd almost run. "I don't have a home," he muttered. "Not anymore."

There was an awkward silence, filled by her sniffing as she made an effort to fight back tears. Slowly, she sat up again and looked him up and down, looked properly and nodded at what she saw. The girl's eyes flicked up at the stars, and then back in his direction, and she pulled something from her pocket and threw it at him. It was a wad of cash, and James caught it awkwardly, not sure what she expected him to do.

In the distance he heard angry yelling and the revving of bikes.

"Get out of here, kid," she muttered, her voice breaking. "Get out of here before they find me. Use that to get some dinner and don't fucking end up like me." The girl lay back with a grunt and put her hands behind her head, apparently unconcerned with the trouble heading her way. "And if you do make it to the stars, come find me and say hi."

James stumbled back, clutching the money the weird girl had given him and nodded. He didn't know who was coming for the girl, but she was in a gang and covered in blood, and he had street smarts enough to know when trouble was brewing.

One day, he vowed, he would make it to the stars. And if he ever met the tall scary girl again, he'd say thanks.