#Not because I'm a slow reader just lack of motivation

[melmos-basement]

I never read anything Brandon Sanderson before and I picked up this copy of way of the kings out of curiosity. Why is it longer than the average copy of the bible .(/gen)

[amyrahrose]

Content warning: Sukunaxreader smut, penetration, multiple positions, dominant Sukuna! , unprotected sex, pet names, Sexual theme, Adult theme, talking her through it, <READER IS BLACK FEMALE CODED>

Authur's Note→ 18 and Under, GET TA STEPPIN! I know for sure this will be broken into parts, however I'm not sure how many parts will be to this. I just decided to get back into writing little dabbles here and there so I'm honestly just testing the waters with this. Slightly proofread (English is my first language, but even the baddest of Bitches still make mistakes! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) I do hope you guys enjoy! 🤎

Synopsis: You’ve decided that you would begin your fitness journey. Accompanying your best friend, today’s the day where you’ll being taking working out and going to the gym seriously (well kind of). Lacking motivation and ready to go back home to lounge around to watch some TV and pig out, that all changes when suddenly you meet this drop dead gorgeous as hell man. Will he be the inspiration you need to continue your new lifestyle?

w.c» 2.1 K

“Sis, I love you I do, but the gym life isn’t meant for someone like me.” You panted out.

You weren’t sure why the sudden urge to accompany your best friend to the gym came about. Maybe it was because you were tired of always feeling burned out, sluggish and lazy. Possibly because you seen how fit, and fucking sexy, your best friend was getting after starting her fitness journey a while back. Whatever the reason, it went out the window the moment you set foot inside the gym complex with her and tried, very pathetically, to keep up with the routine she’d developed for herself. 

“Fuck this,” you thought, “I’d rather be home eating ice cream while watching Flavor of Love.” 

“See, that’s your problem right there. Rather be watching old TV shows and being lazy then getting your sexy on.” She fired back at you making you realize the last thought was actually out loud. You rolled your eyes playfully before glancing back over to her. 

 Both you and your best friend were on the treadmill walking at an incline with the speed up more that you would have liked. She was barely breaking a sweat, having gotten comfortable on the machine while jamming out to her workout playlist. She had on a two-piece workout set, showing off her toned stomach and big ass. You glanced around the gym, catching a few of the men every now and then peeking over at her, trying to get her attention. 

You on the other hand, you were barely making it. Panting like a dog in heat, your workout set you borrowed from her was sweated out, and your puff was starting to frizz out from all the sweating going on in your head. You could only imaged how you may have looked to everyone else inside the gym.

“C’mon Jade, I applaud you for your fitness journey but obviously I’m not ready, I should have at least started off slow so I could get used to it.” You whined out. She snorted out a laugh while throwing you a look. 

“Oh no ma’am, I tried to do that for you, but you were the one that said you could keep up.” She said as a matter of fact. All you could do was huff in annoyance at her response, because she was right. You figured anything she could do you would’ve been able to. You assumed it wouldn’t have been that bad, but you quickly seen the lie in that. 

“Whatever.” You mumbled as she smiled triumphantly, knowing she won the argument. 

“I’m not even tripping,” You began, “I’m about to get my unfit ass off this treadmill and head home, take a shower and be lazy.” You said determined. 

“Seriously Y/n? We’ve barely been here for forty-five minutes.” She looked at you with a judgemental look. You promised, no matter how much you might’ve complained, to see it through and finish the workout. But fuck that, Flavor of Love and a tube of ice cream was calling your ass. 

“Nah sis, I tap out. And there’s nothing or no one that’s gonna make me change my mi-”

“Uh excuse me miss?” 

You heard a deep, baritone voice sound off behind you. Startled, you whipped your head around to tell off the person for interrupting your monologue only to be stopped dead in your tracks with the sight before you. 

There stood a man, looking like the epitome of a gym God. You were met with a chiseled face, a smirk etched across his features. Sharp, bold crimson red eyes that stared down at you with a glint of amusement and playfulness. He graced you with his shirt off showing his toned washboard abs, littered with tattoos and sweat cascading down his torso, all the way down to his deep V-line. Gray gym shorts that hung dangerous low off his hips, not missing the way he was flexing his sculptured legs. Along with huge forearms that were decorated with dark line tattoos as well. 

In the mist of eye fucking the man, you briefly forgot you were on a moving treadmill, almost busting your ass in front of him and the whole gym. Before making a fool of yourself, he caught you just as you were about to fall off. Wrapping his huge forearms around your waist, securing you in place.

“Woah, you alright ma?” He asked. You looked up to his face, seeing his eyebrows furrow in concern. You also caught the sweat dripping, oh so deliciously off the tip of his nose, resisting the sudden urge to reach up and poke the tip of your tongue out to catch it. 

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” You thought to yourself.

You gulped as you stared into deep into his crimson eyes, becoming entranced by them. He shook you lightly to capture your attention again.

 “Hey, you sure you good?” He asked again. He wrapped his arms around you tighter while staring back into your eyes waiting on a response. 

“Y/n, girl say something.” Your best friend broke the silence. You gasped and looked down, becoming embarrassed by your actions.

“Oh yea, I’m good, thank you for catching me.” You answered timidly. 

Being plushed against his chest, you melted like puddy feeling the vibrations coming off from his deep chuckle at your response. 

“Good, wouldn’t want a pretty lil’ thing like you hurting herself.” He answered with a smirk. 

You looked up at him shocked, making his smirk deepen. 

“Maybe being at the gym wasn’t so bad.” You thought. 

“I hate to break up this lil’ love session, but we were in the middle of working out. While at least I was, my friend here was getting ready to lea-” Jade started before you cut her off abruptly. 

“Oh uh yea, I actually was about to get off the treadmill and head over to start on the stair master.” You found yourself saying, trying to give off the impression you come to the gym all the time. Without having to look back at your best friend you know she was giving you a “Bitch, are you serious” look into the back of your head, so much so it made your scalp start itching.

The man, still with his arms around you, let out a deep laugh this time. 

“Is that so ma? ‘Cause from the looks of it, you seem like you was struggling on this treadmill.” He said with a hint of playfulness in his voice. His response caught you off-guard while it made Jade throw her head back, cackling. Caught red handed, you chuckled lightly. 

“Was it that obvious?” You asked, not realizing you placed your hands on-top of his forearms while standing comfortably in his embrace, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He smiled down at your while unconsciously giving you a light squeeze. 

“Yea that and your panting, I could hear you over the speakers ma.” He joked causing your to groan in embarrassment. Despite the awkwardness of him catching you in a lie, you both stay in your current position, neither of you moving. Only deepening the stare you both were committed in. Your best friend looked between you and the mysterious man. Dispelling whatever magnetic charm you both had each other captivated in, Jade cleared her through signaling both of you to gaze in her direction. 

“Not trying to be rude or anything, but what exactly was your reasoning for coming over?” Jade got straight to the point. Even though she knew the answer to it. Despite your own thoughts over your appearance, you were drop dead gorgeous. From you bra-length natural hair, medium brown complexion, big doe eyes, plush lips and a curvaceous body, Stevie Wonder could even see how fine you were. You just had to get out of your head about your looks. But Jade knew that was easier said that done, otherwise you wouldn’t have forced yourself to accompany her to the gym. However seeing how transfixed you’ve become around this guy, she was more than glad that you did tag along. 

“Oh uh right, well I seen how hard of a time she was having with the treadmill, I just wanted to come over and suggest a few pointers.” The man stated. He wasn’t lying, that was part of his reason for coming over. The other part was to introduce himself to you. He noticed you the moment you and your best friend walked inside the gym and was immediately hooked. He knew without a doubt he wasn’t leaving this gym until he at least got your name, and hopefully your number. 

“Oh how sweet of you.” Jade said playfully when an idea popped inside of her mind. She threw a cheshire cat smile at the both of you before continuing her statement. 

“Seeing that you want to make sure Y/n is doing the workouts correctly, why don’t you guys start coming to the gym together.” She said with a glint in her eyes.

“If motivation is what you want”, Jade thought to herself, he’s definitely all the motivation you need Y/n.” 

You whipped your head around almost giving yourself whiplash, looking at your best friend as if she just lost her mind. From the looks of the guy, he took his workouts serious. You barely kept up with Jade, why in the hell did she think you would be able to keep up with him?

You were getting ready to shoot down the idea when he began talking. 

“I don’t mind ma, that’s if you’re up to it?” He asked hopeful. He was silently thanking your best friend for being his voluntary wingman in assisting a chance for him to see you again. You turned back to face him, meeting his hopeful stare and small smile, giving you all the push you needed to slowly nod your head yes at the proposal. His smile deepened as he squeezed you once more. Realizing you were still in his arms, his actions caused you to gasp slightly, making Jade chuckle at the interaction. 

“Cool, I work out pretty much everyday around eight at night, so whatever day works best for you ma, I’m available.” He stated as he looked down into your light brown, doe eyes. He couldn’t help but image how they would be closed slightly, hooded with lust as he pinned you under him while he thrusted deep ins-

“Sure, uhm how about this Wednesday night? That’ll work best.” You cut off his thoughts with your proposal. Coughing as he blushed from his vivid thoughts, he nodded in acknowledgement. Hell, you could’ve said to meet up on Mars at the eleventh hour to workout, he would’ve made damn sure to make it work just to be around you again. 

Sliding his arms from around your waist, you tried to hide the disappointed sigh that escaped from your lips, causing him to smirk lightly. 

“Alright ma, that’s a bet. Give me your number and I’ll text you later to make sure you don’t flake on me.” He joked. You rolled your eyes playfully and smacked your teeth, causing him to shoot his eyebrows up in amusement. 

“Oh she has a ‘lil attitude problem, I’m gonna have to set that straight.” He thought to himself. 

“Boy whatever.” You said as you tried hiding your smile. You reached out your hand, signaling for him to hand over his phone. You typed in your cell number and text yourself so you could go in later and put him into your contact list. Handing him back his phone, he let his hand intertwine with yours longer than it needed to be, sparking an electric jolt to course from your fingertips all the way over your body. 

“Cool, I’ll see you Wednesday ma.” He said with a small smile before turning away to walk back to the area he was working out at. You gave a small nod, about to turn back to Jade before realizing you never caught his name. In a hurry you called out to him to grab his attention. 

“Hey wait, I never got your name?” You said with a small pout. The action making his dick stir a little in his gray shorts. 

He looked you up and down before catching your gaze again with a smirk to his lips. 

“Sukuna.” He said with wink and turned to leave. 

You stayed hypnotized in the same spot he left you, watching his figure walk away before you heard your best friend behind you. 

“See you got your own Flavor of Love right here, didn’t even have to go home for it.” 

© 2024 Amyrahrose. Please do not translate, copy, plagiarize, or repost (sharing links is fine 🤎) without my permission. You will only find my entries/content on tumblr!

[zyafics]

I love your fics 🫶🏾 do you have any recommendations

hi baby!! omg, thank you so much, and i definitely do have recs!

this isn't an exhaustive list, btw, these r just people i can think off the top of my head. i have a rec account where i reblog my fav fics and whatnot w reviews + commentary @zyafics-recs

@nadvs ONE OF THE BEST RAFE WRITERS, she is the reason why i got introduced into fanfic writing and the reason why i actually wrote today! i love all of her series and her entire masterlist has anything u could ever look for—from fluff, to smut, to angst. it's all there! personal favorites are cam girl and home before dark!

@itneverendshere MY PERSONAL FAVORITE WRITER AND MY ABSOLUTE LOVELY GIGI, i am her biggest fan (will fight u for this position 🔪) and whenever i feel down, or lacking motivation, she is the reason to help me get motivated! she's such a lovely person, and her prose, dialogues and descriptions are to die for. if u like my written fics, i say gigi and have pretty ~similar~ writing style. she also can have ANYTHING ur craving—from canonverse plots, to aus, to fluff, to smut, to angst, EVERYTHING! my personal favorites that got me invested into her work is her thornton!reader with rafe, the other side of paradise (maybank!reader and rafe, lowkey canon, lowkey not), and love you at your worst. also i requested a lot of hockey!rafe from her, so if you love athlete!rafe, she's definitely ur girl!!

@aliyahwritings my bABYGIRL FR—she currently has this series called the contracted heart, which is about model!reader and athlete!rafe and it's to die for. if you love banters—especially if you love witty banter back and forth—this is your girl. if any of you read the addicted series, and loved rose and connor, they lowkey mirror that dynamic. on top of her amazing dialogues/banters, she has such rich representation of desi!reader. like she isn't afraid of portraying explicitly BIPOC readers which i admire so much from her.

@whytheylosttheirminds okay listen, NAT has one of the richest descriptions of storytelling that evokes such a personal level to you. whenever i enter her storytelling, she has such details and beautiful imagery, i actually have to stop reading just to admire it. i'm still digesting her masterlist, but my personal recs are: blue sweater, snooze, and i remember everything!

@starkeysprincess one of the sweetest people on this platform, i absolutely devoured her kinktober fics, but one thing about shania is that she writes every scenario of rafe—from doctor, to handyman, to stepbrother, etc!—and she does it so well. her smut is so fun, and dynamic, especially with their dialogues, and it's so easy to digest her fics in one setting (be warned fr)

@erwinsvow ok i absolutely ADORE the way shea writes, ok?? like everything she puts out, i eat UP!! especially when she written her long fics, aint nothing better for me (toxic!rafe), all mine, bitchy!reader and rafe, and my heart and soul that i religiously reread every week got what u wanted <3

@ilyrafe one of my favorite writing pieces and introduction to analysis of rafe, is by gabi. she has this wonderful mini series (late night and early morning) that perfectly slows down the relationship of rafe and reader and the intensity of his character. if u wanna read more about how he sees the world, and why his character acts the way it does, gabi does is so successful. she also has a hitman!rafe currently in the progress, which i know just released a pt2, i am gonna to read it soon, promise!

@softspiderling okay ELLE HAS EVERYTHING!! she has smaus, to written works, to series, to oneshots, i'm obsessed with everything she puts out, especially because it's so intriguing and the way she writes just leaves me craving more. i would personally rec ocean blue eyes (smau), illicit affairs (best friends to fwb to lovers) and think you’re a genius (you drive me up the wall) <3

if u want more social media aus—

@ghostofwriting has one that is the reason why hb:l is alive today. kildare split is about a band au with rafe and reader and they had drama. and she's also currently writing one about biker!rafe and book influencer!reader, which is so fun, witty, and filled with drama. i absolutely adore kildare split, and it will always have a special place in my heart bc it's my first introduction to smaus <3

@sematarygirls ohmygod, i am currently obsessed with salt & secrets. it's actually magnificent, especially the graphics. the efforts sol puts into them is so detailed and telling, u can see it's made with love. but the PLOT!!! the way the story moves, the way it's a gossip site and reader is a huge instigator. this fun enemies-to-lovers feud between them (that i'm still wondering if the reason reader is targeting rafe means something more 🤨) and the COMMENTS AND BANTERS!! reader is so hilarious. all the characters are so funny and witty, it's definitely something to read to soothe the angst and tension from hb:l LOL 💘

@rafeskai i'm also currently reading this smau about reader and rafe having a little thing before she moved away for college, and she came back! it's so interesting, especially because kai mixes multimedia and written work in one place, so u get to experienced both!

lastly, this is for sarah cameron specifically, but @spellewrites! she's currently working on this smau about sarah cameron and f!reader and i'm excited to see how it goes, especially because sarah is dating(?) topper, reader's brother.

[happy-beeeps]

Meet Me In The Woods

*gif credits to creator!*

pairing: reader (f!Rook) x Lucanis

WC: 1k

Warnings: There's some shedding clothes but nothing steamy, PG13!

Summary: Spite tries to make another break for it, and you take Lucanis to the only place you can think of to ease his mind.

A/N: I know I'm supposed to be doing Dincember but SURPRISE SORRY OKAY BYE

also def recommend listening to Lord Huron's "Meet Me In the Woods" with this one

“It’s Spite,” you murmur, and Lucanis slumps a bit against the touch of your hand on his forearm.

“I tried, he is… becoming more difficult.”

You know, you can see it. The darkness under his eyes rings clearer now than it has since you first met him. He’s been trying to stay awake, and it’s not working.

And of course, there’s the moment you’ve been coping with, the breath away from a kiss, when he startled and darted out of the room.

“Lucanis,” you sigh, removing your hand slowly and backing up, “there has to be another way, you can’t keep doing this.”

“Worried I’m not at my best?” He smirks, but there’s a deal question there. Are you worried? Should you be?”

You shake your head, “No. I trust you with my life, so does the rest of the team.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t.” He shakes his head, whether it’s from exasperation or sleep you cannot say. “I’m a danger,”

“And I told you before,” your hand is on his arm now, and a warm sensation floods your chest when he puts his own hand on top of yours. “I like to toe the line.”

The Eluvian glimmers behind you, Spite has not entirely stopped trying to leave early, and a thought enters your mind. A memory of a life past.

Without thinking, you grab him further and pull him deeper into the Eluvian, crossing into the Crossroads. As you locate your prize, you ignore his confused sputters. “Just, just let me do this. Please.” 

He relents.

Arlathan is softer at night, in your opinion. Bathed in moonlight and speckled with small fires from different camps, it feels almost like a small city. The grass is plush beneath your feet and, to his credit, Lucanis hasn’t questioned your motives yet. The forest is hard to make out, but you find what you were looking for soon enough—a small waterfall lined with drooping trees and well worn rocks. You pause at the edge of the small river that winds beneath the falls before quickly shucking your top and pants, leaving you clad in just your underclothes.

“Mierda, Rook,” Lucanis starts from behind you, but he’s laughing. You gingerly step into the water, before sinking deeper. The river is slow and small, so you can wade into the middle without being pulled by the current.

Lucanis has followed you in, and left behind his own outer layer next to yours. How long does it take to undo that vest?

“Did you bring me out here to freeze me to death?” He quips, but the barb lacks venom. He rushes his hands over his head, sighing at the contact of cool water across his face. The sight of his hair, swept back with water and beads dripping off his forehead, sends butterflies across your chest, but the feeling appears to be reciprocated. Lucanis eyes rake over your form in a way that doesn’t imminently come across as lustful, more longing.

“When I was little, I used to come here all the time and do this. When I couldn’t sleep, or I was overwhelmed.”

“I thought you were from Minrathous?”

“Mmm,” you kick your legs up to float, tummy pressed to the sky, “not originally. I was from a little village out here.”

“Why haven’t we seen it?”

“Because it’s gone.”

Lucanis doesn’t speak, but instead moves to stand behind you. There’s a reassuring hand pushed up against your back beneath the water, and you can feel from his navigation that he’s propped himself near the bank, tethering you to land.

“I wanted to be a performer, I left to Minrathous when I was young,”

“A performer?” He snorts, and you open one eye to squint at him.

“A dancer. I wanted to tour, maybe make it all the way to Treviso.”

“You’d have been an excellent ballerina.”

You stay there in silence for a while longer, and you can feel Lucanis’ heartbeat stop thrumming against you. He’s soothed, finally. 

“The woods always helped. The darkness.” You murmur, and his hand presses firmer against your back.

“And you think it will help me?”

“Did it?”

A pause. “Fine.”

You snort, and the sudden movement encourages you to flip back over in the water, submerging before emerging. You turn to face him, and his eyes are burning into you. Deep and fond. This man in front of you has killed, will continue to kill. There is a part of him you can’t quite reconcile. And yet, you jumped to help him, his town, in an instant. Even now, you want to do nothing more than run your fingers through his hand and soothe him. You haven’t even kissed and yet you’re in front of each other, nearly bare. This feels more intimate in more ways than one.

“I’m terrified,” he starts, eyes dropping to his hands, “that Spite will take control and I won’t have any part of me left.”

“Lucanis—“

“That he’ll hurt someone, hurt you. And if I ever come to, it’ll be your blood on my hands.”

“You won’t let that happen, we won’t let that happen. We’re a team in this, you know.”

“I know,” his hands move to find yours in the water, “and that’s the other reason I’m terrified. You don’t know when to run.”

“Maybe I’m just tired of it.”

There’s a moment there, where the air smells like lavender and bitter coffee, and there’s a breath of anticipation. But neither of you sour it. It’s almost as if the moment would be ruined now by physical intimacy. But you know, and he knows. and that’s good enough for you.

[roseghoul26]

Hello! I would like to request Cooper Howard x gn!reader (post war, because...murderous cowboy...hnnngh), where they struggle with mental health issues like depression? I've been in a really tough spot, having no energy or motivation to do anything or really any desire to take care of myself. So I was thinking, maybe the reader's mental health is declining, they're slower and sloppier when it comes to keeping up with Cooper and he's more and more frustrated. Then one day he has enough (maybe the reader is taking too long packing up) and threatens to leave them and they're just...passive, because they really don't care anymore about what happens to them. So he realises they haven't been taking care of themselves properly for a while now and then some soft moments with him? I know this is pretty dark and you can change this however you'd like, but I'm dying for some hurt/comfort with this man 🥺 It's totally cool if it's too much for you, if you decide to not write this, please just let me know, so I don't wait for it. Thank you so much, I love your Cooper fics <3

Cooper Howard | The Ghoul x gn!Reader

Synopsis: You’ve been struggling lately, putting both you and your traveling companion in danger. He was bound to confront you about it eventually. Tags: Prompt Request, Not Beta Read, Gender Neutral Reader, Depression, Mental Health, Mentions of Suicide, Disagreements, Comfort, Lazy Day, Cuddling, Beginning Relationships Author's Note: Trigger warning for topics relating to mental health, such as depression and suicide. Please do not read if you’re not in a good mental space. Take care of yourselves. Also, everyone’s experience with depression and mental health issues differs, so I am writing this story the way I experience it. Also, this was a fun challenge to write. Like how the hell would he approach a topic like this? It’s been fun to explore his character like that, and I hope I did it justice. Thank you so much for the request! <333

You used to be able to keep up with the Ghoul. 

Wherever he went, you followed, tearing through the Wastleland without hindrance. You watched his back, and he yours, a security that was unheard of in this world. It was a trusting friendship, bordering on something else, something that neither of you had crossed yet. You couldn't compete with over a hundred years of experience with a gun, but you were able to hold your own quite well. You were a decent shot and someone who never let anyone get the drop on you, senses always sharp. 

So when you started missing easy targets and found yourself surprised by opponents one too many times, you knew it was a matter of time before the Ghoul started asking questions and not believing the first lie that you said. The first time it had happened, you blamed it on your lack of sleep, and he seemed to buy it. And maybe you convinced yourself it was just a lack of sleep, ignoring the darkness that had begun to emerge in your mind. You just needed to rest, was what you told yourself. 

It happened again a few days later, completely missing a target in front of you. Your reactions had begun to slow down, too, unable to avoid the swing of a blade, cutting across your cheek. It was like your body gave up on wanting to move, an unbearable weariness to your muscles that you were unable to shake. Later, as you bandaged the wound on your cheek, the Ghoul confronted you, demanding to know why you were acting so sloppy. You’d merely shrugged, offering up the idea that you were sick. This time he seemed less convinced, yet he had let the matter go. 

You knew why you were acting the way you were. You weren’t unfamiliar with depression, far from it. It was something you’d dealt with your entire life, coming and going like waves. You’d go days, weeks, months and you’d be fine, but then a flip would switch. You’d lose your energy, your motivation, wanting nothing more than to just lay on the ground and never get back up. You’d stop taking care of your body. You’d lose your appetite. Your thoughts would turn dark, ideations and ideas flashing in your mind, things that you’d never tell another soul. 

For the months you’d been traveling with the Ghoul, you’d been able to keep a reign on your depression. Sure, you had your off days, but nothing like this. It was like the universe was punishing you for having such an excellent past months. 

But how could you explain this to your traveling partner? How could you explain that you didn’t have the energy to continue existing, to continue fighting? He needed you to be alert, to not have your thoughts occupied with something, that in perspective to the Wasteland around you, was trivial. 

So you kept your mouth shut, forcing yourself to appear alert and unaffected. You forced those thoughts to the back of your mind. You forced your body to move, no matter how much it screamed at you to just be still.

But it seemed that all that bottling your thoughts up did was make it worse. As the days dragged on, you stopped talking, only muttering small words whenever the Ghoul asked you a question. You’d normally spend the time traveling conversing, and the Ghoul did try to initiate a conversation with you, but no amount of questions and joking and jabs could get you to break. Eventually, he fell quiet too.

Sleeping became a challenge. You’d think with how exhausted your body felt, you’d be able to sleep easily, but the opposite was true. Hours would tick by, and you’d lie awake, getting up the next morning more exhausted than before you went to bed. Your face, already a bit gaunt from living such a difficult life, had grown even more so, the circles around your eyes darkening and your lips growing more chapped. 

You stopped eating, turning away the food he offered you. After you went a few days without eating more than a bite, he practically forced spoonfuls of food into your mouth, snapping at you the entire time. It was humiliating, but you couldn’t bring yourself to change. You just wanted to be done. 

You could tell that your demeanor was starting to annoy the hell out of the Ghoul, whose words had turned shorter and snappier. If you took too long, he’d grab you by the shoulder and drag you along, like an upset parent with their child. Your cheeks would burn every time, tears pickling your eyes, and you’d hang your head. 

There was a tension growing between you and the Ghoul, your friendship growing thin. His guard was up constantly, unable to trust you any longer to watch his back, which hurt you more than any knife or gun. Soft glances disappeared, his gaze scrutinizing when he looked at you. Light touches from him reserved for when you were at rest were no more, as you chose to keep to yourself every night. Instead of walking side-by-side, you’d linger a few feet behind him. You pretended like it was easier this way, to make him push you away, but it was tearing you apart. 

But eventually, that tension snapped. Too many close calls, too many sluggish movements, too many half-hearted excuses finally made him break. You’d just gotten up for the day, another sleepless night behind you, and you were packing up your few belongings. You must’ve been taking too long, because you heard him sigh audibly, standing in the open doorway of the room you’d sheltered in for the night. “What’s your fuckin’ issue?” He growled, arms crossed tight over his chest.

You looked up, feigning confusion. “I dunno what-”

“Bullshit,” he cut you off. He began to walk towards you, his steps methodical, threatening. “You’ve been actin’ like this for weeks, and you’ve only offered me half-assed excuses.” He was seething, and understandably so. He crouched down in front of you, rendering you unable to escape. “So, you,” he stuck a finger in your chest, barely avoiding hitting you, “are gonna tell me why. And don’t even think ‘bout lyin’, sweetheart.”

You swallowed, heart hammering in your chest at the confrontation. Words flooded your mind, a full explanation on the tip of your tongue, yet you just couldn’t bring yourself to utter it. Your mouth opened and closed, struggling, until you eventually just gave up. Sighing, you just shook your head, which pissed him off even more. 

A disbelieving laugh left him, and he ran a gloved hand over his face. “No? You’re kiddin’ me, right?” He didn’t wait for a response. “Ya know, I’ve tried to be lenient. I bought into your fuckin’ lies that you were ‘just tired’, ‘just sick’. I tried to give ya space, to give ya time to get out of this. But you’re gonna get us both killed if ya don’t fix yourself. I can’t be distracted out there, constantly worried ‘bout you and keepin’ you alive, ‘cause it seems like that’s the last thing on your mind.”

He took a breath, steadying his rising voice. “So I’m gonna give ya one more chance to explain yourself, or else I’m leavin’ without ya.”

“Then leave.” Your response came almost immediately, your voice lacking any inflection. Even though in the back of your mind you were screaming at him not to leave, you kept an air of indifference about you, unable to make yourself care. It would be easier if he just left, wouldn’t it? You wouldn’t be putting anyone else in danger, and you wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt you felt of him worrying about you so much. And it would be so much easier to just disappear if there was no one looking for you.

He wasn’t expecting that as a response if the look on his face told you anything. His brow muscles were raised, leaning back from you in shock. But the way he was watching you, it was like he was observing you in a different light, dots beginning to connect in his mind. “You’ll die out there without me.” 

You merely shrugged your shoulders, glancing down to continue packing your belongings, no longer able to look him in the eye. He didn’t respond, simply standing up with a sigh. You didn’t look up, not even as you heard him walk away, backing towards the entrance of the room. You didn’t look up, even as you heard the surprisingly gentle click of the door as it shut. You didn’t look up, even as the tears that you’d been holding for the past weeks finally fell.

You were alone.

You thought it would make you feel better like there would be a weight lifted off your shoulders. But everything just felt heavier, the thoughts in your mind becoming a tempest, making you physically weak. Expletives tumbled from your lips as you sagged down onto your arms, head hung. Of course, he’d fucking leave, you idiot. No one wants to deal with your moping.

A part of you wanted to chase after him, to beg him to stay, but you already felt pathetic enough. You couldn’t blame him for leaving, not at all. You were weighing him down, putting his life in danger; he said so himself. He could only deal with you for so long. You should be grateful that he didn’t leave sooner.

The sound of rustling fabric made you jump, finally looking up. The Ghoul had taken off his jacket, laying it across the back of the couch he had slept on, never having left the room at all. Stunned, you watched him sit, taking his hat off in the process and setting it on the floor. He finally caught your eye then, a soft look on his face, a look you hadn’t seen in a long while. 

“I thought you left,” you whispered, sitting back upright. Embarrassment warmed your cheeks, and you tried to wipe the tears that had fallen on them. 

“I ain’t leavin’ ya, sweetheart.”

“Why not?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Do you want me to go?” You’d never shaken your head faster in your life. “Then I’m stayin’.”

“But why?”

He sighed. “‘Cause I care ‘bout you. I… Is that too hard to believe?”

It is. Unable to find words, you just shrugged again. 

Something akin to regret or remorse flashed across his face, and muttering something under his breath he reclined against the couch. He was upset, but even now you could tell it was not because of you, at least not fully. “C’mere,” he murmured, patting the couch beside him. “You look like you’re gonna fuckin’ bolt at any second.”

Taking a steadying breath, you complied, albeit with some difficulty, your legs barely wanting to function. His gaze didn’t leave you once, as much as you wished it would, making you want to collapse in on yourself. The walk to the couch felt like it was miles long, but you eventually made your way over to it and him. 

He rolled his eyes when you just stood there in front of him, unsure of what to do with yourself. “Sit down, I ain’t gonna fuckin’ bite.” In another situation, you knew he’d add some comment like unless ya want me to, but he bit his tongue. The couch groaned as you sat next to the Ghoul, keeping a foot between your bodies. “Talk to me,” he commanded, yet his voice was gentle. “What the hell’s goin’ on?”

You picked at the skin around your nails, no doubt drawing blood. “I’m… I’m not quite sure how to explain it,” you responded, and you expected your words to upset the man even more. But he nodded his head slowly, an almost understanding look on his face. “I’m just… done."

“Done with… what? Bein’ out on the road?” You shook your head. “Travellin’ with me?” You shook your head again, this time more vehemently. “Done with what?” You knew that he knew the answer to his question, but he wanted you to say it.

“I’m done with… with existing. I just can’t bring myself to care anymore. I’m just so tired of it all.” You sagged back against the couch like speaking took a toll on your body. “I’m so tired.”

He didn’t respond for a while, mulling over your words. “That… that explains a lot,” he chuckled humourlessly. “Your mind won’t just leave ya the hell alone, will it? It's like all your mind can focus on are these terrible fuckin’ things, no matter what ya do. And it just weighs on ya, like a million pounds, getting worse with every passin’ day until you just wanna… give up.”

He explained it perfectly, and you cocked your head to the side, a bit confused about how he was able to do so. “I ain’t a stranger to what you’re goin’ through. We’re well fuckin’ acquainted, to say the least. So I shoulda recognized it sooner with ya.” 

He paused, sighing. “Wanna know somethin’?” You nodded. “I was too busy thinkin’ ‘bout what I did to upset ya that I didn’t bother to think of any other possible reason as to why you’re actin’ the way you are. But once I realized it wasn’t my fault, not entirely, instead of bein’ there for ya, I was an ass. I thought, because I’m a damn idiot, that you were just mopin’ around for the hell of it, putting us both in danger simply ‘cause you were tired or some shit. Not once did I stop to think why. And I apologize.”

“You don’t gotta-” He cut you off with a pointed look. “I… I accept your apology, then.”

He nodded slowly, content. “I’d like to help ya, sweetheart. I know nothin’ I say or do is gonna make it go away like that… but I’d like to try. Whatever ya need from me, and you’ve got it.”

“I’m not sure what I need exactly,” you admitted quietly.

“When ya figure it out, will ya let me know?” You nodded.

“Just… be patient. As difficult as that is for you.” You hadn’t meant for the jab to come out, but you weren’t taking it back. Especially when a loud laugh left the Ghoul, making a smile of your own appear on your face. It was faint, yet it was there.

An almost starstruck expression appeared on his face, his laughter dying out. “I missed seein’ ya smile,” he murmured as if it was a subconscious thought.

You ducked your head, making him laugh again. “As for bein’ patient, well, I can be that, if that’s what ya need.”

“It’ll take some time,” you cautioned again, indirectly giving him a chance to back out of this. 

“Time ain’t an issue. I’ll wait as long as it fuckin’ takes.”

“You mean it?” Your voice was so soft, barely audible to either of you. 

You watched as one of his gloved hands inched towards you, palm upturned. Tentatively, you placed your in his, eyes growing wide when he brought your hand to his lips, kissing the back of it gently. “I swear,” he uttered, sealing the promise with another press of his lips.

As you returned your tingling hand to your lap, his eyes scanned over your face, a furrow appearing between his brow. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten somethin’? Somethin’ that I didn’t force ya to eat,” he added when you opened your mouth to respond. 

Your silence said enough, and he leaned down to his bag, which he had placed beside the couch when he sat. After a few moments of rustling through, he handed you a small bag of what appeared to be jerky, as well as a small canteen of water. “It ain’ human,” he added when you eyed the bag suspiciously before taking it.

The jerky was salty and tough when you took a bite, not quite wanting to, but unable to not eat under his gaze. You ate in silence until your stomach was full and your teeth hurt from the tough material. Taking a swig of water, you could feel your eyes growing heavy, eating seemingly draining your energy more than replenishing it. Stifling a yawn, you shoved the canteen back into his hand, and you noticed he had an almost pleased look on his face. 

You were confused, though, when he stood, making his way to the entrance of the room. For a moment, those thoughts flashed in your mind that told you that he was finally leaving, that he realized how pathetic you were. But instead of doing any of those things, you watched as he simply wedged a chair under the handle of the door, like he had done before you went to bed for the night. 

“What’re you doing?”

“We takin’ the day off. Doctor’s orders.”

“But aren’t we supposed to be in Filly in a few days?”

“We’ll be fine. You are gonna spend today catchin’ up on some much-needed rest.” He stood in front of you now, a moth-eaten blanket in his hands. 

“And what are you gonna do?” You asked, and he shrugged. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, sweetheart. Go ‘head, lie down.”

Your eyes quickly scanned the couch, and you took a deep breath before speaking again. “The couch is big enough for us both, no?”

For the second time that day, you’d stunned him with your responses. “Is… is that what ya want?”

Encouraged that he hadn’t just outrightly said no, you nodded your head, and a fond look crossed his features. He handed you the blanket before sitting once more, but instead of his back being against the cushions, he rested it against one of the armrests, not before tucking a pillow in front of it. 

Once he was situated, he opened up his arms to you, and you could’ve laughed at how uncertain he looked. Hands rested on your body when you laid down, head on his chest, laying on your stomach, and you made sure the blanket covered both your bodies as best you could. You weren’t too worried about covering all of you, though, with the sheer amount of warmth he was radiating. 

His eyes were already on you when you glanced up, a smile pulling at his lips. “Comfy?”

“Yes.” Your voice was barely audible, but he heard it. 

You felt his fidget with something in his hand behind your back, but you didn’t have to wait long to find out what he was doing. You felt fingers run along your scalp, making you shudder, before combing through any hair there. “Alright?”

You sighed contently, nodding your head before letting it fall back onto his chest. He continued to run his fingers there, his other hand tracing patterns across your shoulders. You hadn’t realized how tired you were until now, finding it hard to keep your eyes open. For the first time in a long time, you felt safe. Safe from the world outside this room. Safe from the thoughts that plagued your mind. Safe from everything. 

He didn’t have to see your face to know that you were struggling to stay awake. “Go to bed. I’ll be here when you wake.”

“Promise?”

“Ain’t fuckin’ like I’m gonna be able to get up,” he chuckled, before taking a more serious tone. “I promise.”

That was all you needed to hear before you finally let the final strings of consciousness leave your grasp. Before you lost control of all your senses, though, you felt him lean down, pressing a barely-there kiss to the top of your head. “You’ll get through this, sweetheart.”

You believed him.

[yorutsuki]

Yan!Rise! Raph x Reader

[ Heavily Inspired by: Fried-milkfish (Please check out there work!)]

↳ Why did you think you could escape? Can't you see? Everything he's done is for your own good.

Tags:

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You tiredly stared at the motionless white ceiling, one you've seen too many times to count.

Your eyes were puffy and swollen red, your breaths slow and shallow. Small bandages were scattered onto the rugged floor as the wounds they once bandaged, were freshly scratched and smeared with blood.

You didn't know why you thought you could make it, you didn't understand why you even thought you had a chance in the first place. Just as your hand brushed against the cold metal cover, separating you from freedom, he dragged you back.

Raph was fortunately never the type to harm, well, you at least, but his outburst was...livid to say the least. He begged, shouted, yelled and eventually shards from a flying ceramic vase managed reflect it.

So here you laid, a white noise of defeat and hopelessness defeaning your ears. You lacked the motivation for doing anything, all your energy, drained.

Your hope lost on ever getting out of this hell hole.

Your eyes widened, hearing a knock on the door. You scrambled against the bed as it opened, a dreadful feeling washing over you as your heart sank, fearing the mutant you'd lay eyes upon.

"I brought food! Mikey made some soup with a side of pasta...it's a weird combination but it still tastes good!" The voice boomed with delight, humming as he set the tray of food down onto the floor. Glancing towards your form, his eyes landed to the messy pile of bandages and open wounds. He quickly sprinted towards you, grabbing the small med-kit from under the bed.

"Why would you do this!?" He hissed, his tone soft yet heavily concerned as he began to re-bandage your wound yet you remained silent.

The alligator turtle sighed, "well, you should eat up before the food gets cold." He spoke, reaching for the tray of food and bringing it closer.

A few seconds pass by as silence filled both your ears.

"You really should eat, the longer you wait, the colder it gets." He frowned but still no answer.

You wished he would just get the message.

With each passing moment, Raph grew more annoyed. "You need to eat." He demanded, pushing the try towards you yet you still didn't move. "Why won't you look at me." You only shrugged in response.

The turtle let out a annoyed sigh, "Look, if this is about last night, it was for you own safety. Do you know what could happen up there?!" He spoke, his voice raised with lowness but you couldn't give a damn. Being anywhere would be better than this prison of a 'home'.

"Answer me." He snarled, his teeth gritting with now irritation.

"I know that it would be better there than here in this shit hole.." You mumbled. Raph's brows furrowed, "But you don't. All i've been doing is keeping you safe, to keep you protected—"

"But you aren't. You've locked me up here against my will, won't even let me see anyone else—not even your brothers, because of your own fear. For fucks sake, I can't even do the simplest thing on my own without you having to watch over me like i'm some sort of—"

"No. You just can't see it! Everything i've done is to keep you from harms way and out of reach from things up there!" He retorted, getting up. "I've been up there too many times, I know what dangers lay on the surface, the whole reason why your down here is to protect you from them!" He snapped, his voice raised.

"How delusional can you be..."

"What?"

"Your so far stuck in your own ass that you actually believe this is keeping me safe—protecting me?" You hissed, anger surging through your core as you looked at him in disbelief.

"I'm not delusional." He spoke, his words laced with anger. You watched warily as he made his way towards the metal door. "Everything i've done is for you and your own good."

"And you will stay here whether you like it or not until you can understand that."

.

.

.

Erm, I actually hated that. It was doing fine at first then writers block hit and I just feel like most of it's a copy from Fried-milkfish's story. Might remake it (probably won't since procrastination hits like a truck) but if I do, it'll probably be different.

Anyways, first post in weeks! And I think I can say; it's a shit post. Though thank you for those who do enjoy it. Promise the next one will be better!

[auxiliuno]

König x pregant reader maybe.

Like how’d he be as a dad and how he treats his wife 💗💗

König x pregnant!reader

SFW

Fluff, pregnancy, babies, König being a loving father, doting, praise

When he first found out you were pregnant, he started crying tears of joy

But also from the anxiety of being a new father

He was so scared that he might mess up

You reassured him that you were nothing new to this and that you guys would get through this together

It's a learning process ❤

Absolutely dotes on you

Is scared of your pregnancy cravings, but doesn't question them

"Hey babe, I'm carving some crepe with jalapeños and mustard, with sprinkles on top"

"On it liebling! ☺️"

He's not quite sure how to make that....food choice of yours, so he does his best with whatever he can find in the house

Once he feeds you it, you become sleepy

He thinks you're so cute

Happy wife=happy life

Even when you have modd swings because of the hormones, he is so understanding and never loses patience with you

*You, bawling because you can't find your favorite pair of socks*

Konig: "it's okay maus! We'll find it together"

You guys spend the whole day trying to find the socks, and in the end, they were under your pillow the whole time.....

Panics a but when you go into labour; cuz ur in pain and he's like: "WHAT DO I DO WHAT DO I DO?!?!?!"

Drives u to the hospital so fast

Was with you and held you the entire time

U but his hand fron the pain of giving birth

He has a bandage wrapped around his hand now

Cried when you pushed the baby out

Like tears just started rolling down his cheeks

Asks if you're okay after, helps take care of your baby

And showers you in affection: how good you were, he's so proud of you, you're so beautiful etc...

When you were given the okay to be discharged from the hospital, he was so scared u would hurt yourself and still insisted on doing everything for you

Queen treatment fr 👑

U basically didn't have to lift a finger at all when you recovered at home

He cradled the baby to sleep when they cried, changed their diapers, fed them, held them etc...

Overall he spoils you and your child even after they've grown up, they definetly become a daddies boy/girl

I'm so sorry for such a slow answer; I have not been feeling well lately and I've been lacking the motivation to write lately. Thank you for your understanding! 😞💗

Have a great day! 💐🩷

[angelic-dew]

Hi!! I don't mean to be a bother, but could I possibly request rengoku and tengen (without wives and separately done!) smut hcs please? I understand if you don't do it! stay healthy 🤍

# smut headcannons !

✧༉‧₊˚୨ 💌 ୧・author's note :: sure anon! I hope these are okay, I'm not the best smut writer qnq also! sorry for the huge delay, I've been lacking motivation lately. when I get tengen's part done, I'll update it here!

✧༉‧₊˚୨ 🍫 ୧・pairing :: Uzui T. x afab reader [not completed yet.] ⁞⁞ Kyojuro R. x afab reader — {you/your pronouns | separately done}

✧༉‧₊˚୨ ✖ ୧・trigger warnings :: mentions of female and male genitals. dirty talk. daddy kink. praise kink. size kink. biting. hickeys. slight mentions of rough sex. semi-public sex. fingering. raw dogging. spanking. ⁞⁞ 18+ content, children dni please. proofread.

𝐊𝐘𝐎𝐉𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐎𝐊𝐔.

꒰🔥꒱. I see Rengoku being into praising his precious lover in bed {consciously and subconsciously he does it}, he is a cinnamon roll after all, and a total sweetheart as a whole. Our beloved Umai King would also be extremely cautious with what he says; always taking into consideration your every action and signals with how you're feeling in bed. This time is precious to him and he takes it very seriously, always muttering phrases and short words of adoration and encouragement for your full enjoyment. Whispering ever so softly in your ear, always singing your praises to his heart's content.

꒰🔥꒱. Back in the Era Demon Slayer does take place in {1912-1926 || Taisho Era}, condoms did in fact exist, however, I believe Kyojuro prefers to go in fully raw for maximum pleasure as your walls tighten around him. That can translate to him wanting to prepare you a bit to take his entire length properly and with ease. He takes pride in prepping you, taking his time and lubing his fingers with some oil to make the process much easier.

꒰🔥꒱. He begins slow and gentle, soft to the touch; always treating you like some sort of dainty, delicate piece of porcelain throughout the process. Checking up on you at every moment as lewd cries of contentment escape from underneath your lips.

꒰🔥꒱. The flame Hashira does have a somewhat "rowdy" side to him. The thought of being able to do the deed with someone he loves ever so much really gets the blood flowing, to certain areas of course. So even though he's such a gentle sweetheart, he can still be rough in some subtle ways at times.

꒰🔥꒱. These can include bite marks along your body — hickeys and even light bruises peppering your breasts and neck; a few sprinkled along your collarbone area as well, as a finishing touch. It depends on what exactly is being done, but, he does tend to leave a few playful bite marks along your inner thigh area while giving you oral.

꒰🔥꒱. Because, let's face it, you know he's eating you out like there is no tomorrow. Rengoku is the Umai King after all, it's no surprise he can take that same talent of eating sweet potatoes and do the same to you, instead this time, he's eating out something that's definitely better than any food. He would ultimately prefer to give oral rather than receive, your needs come before his, always!

꒰🔥꒱. Rengoku is definitely an ass guy, don't try changing my mind. I see him loving to hold it within his palms gently, something about it just feels so enthralling that he can't even begin to come to his correct senses when he sees you in doggy style. That alone will make him pounce on you with little to no hesitation. Regardless of the size as well, he doesn't really care how big it is, once there's enough for him to grip and drool over as he pleases, it'll be a true treasure.

꒰🔥꒱. Kyojuro seems like the type to have a liking towards things smaller than him, so those rules will definitely apply to his lover as well. Especially if you're a bit shorter than the average person, bonus points to you right there, it only makes his size kink worsen each time. He simply adores the fact you're so tiny compared to him, yet so strong and able to take each, individual inch of his meaty cock every time; it makes him feel a sense of endearment per se. His little person's ability to feel all of him, honestly, makes him melt for you.

꒰🔥꒱. An alternative take on his size kink would also be a size kink, but you're bigger than him. He would have just as much adoration and love for you even if you were taller than him in just height alone. The cream of the crop that really gets him going has to be when he actually enters your warm hole. He practically dotes at the sight of your expressions as you tremble under his soft, loving touch. Despite your size difference, you're still extremely tight and sensitive to the touch — the Hashira is indeed fond of that.

꒰🔥꒱. He would most likely have a huge daddy kink as well. Of course, he wouldn't exactly mention it upfront, he would be a bit embarrassed to do so. I don't think he knows he has one until you call him it while he's ramming himself into one time. When you called him that, it almost made him feel a sense of power, but moreover, if he were to be frank, he could've felt himself get harder inside you from that word alone. Rengoku would definitely want you to say it more often; I firmly believe he would even imply it in his words as well while whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

꒰🔥꒱. Sex position-wise, I see him having a preference for wanting to have a view of your angelic face while also being able to please you to the fullest, of course, there are a few exceptions like doggy style, but here's some in line with his preferred liking. So, mating press, missionary, cowgirl {reverse cowgirl at certain times}, g-whiz and the seashell, to name a few. Ideally, Kyojuro would like to do it in a place of privacy so he can focus on you and you primarily, always putting your needs first. However, if there ever came a time when you wanted him urgently, he wouldn't hesitate to take a risk. Whether that be behind a large building or a bathroom stall for a brief moment to have a quickie.

꒰🔥꒱. As I stated directly before, he has a particular fondness for ass, specifically yours, rather than anything else. So out of impulse he would spank you or leave slight bruising along your waistline as he holds onto you.

꒰🔥꒱. He doesn't spank you hard, it's usually a simple small slap, but from the moment you start asking/begging for more, just keep in mind, his normal sweet demeanour will change to something otherworldly; trust me, he will not hesitate to give you what you want by any means. Whether that being you want him to be rougher, harder or even leave more marks on you, he will make sure you're satisfied down to the last touch.

© yandere-smoothie :: please don't re-claim or translate my works without permission! <3

[daenysx]

🩷hellooo! I love ur writing and wanted to request aemond (modern or not your choice) reader gets really upset and frustrated with school and is just angry and sad and crying and he just comforts them. 🩷🩷🩷sending hearts

hi!! thank you for this request and your lovely words! crying because of school is totally relatable to me, i hope you enjoy this little shot!

my masterlist

overachiever

you stress about your exams but modern!aemond is here to comfort you.

you stare at your screen for the past 15 minutes.

you don't understand anything you read.

and it gets too much at some point. how will you ever be prepared for your exams if you can't even keep what you read in your mind? there is almost a week for you to finish studying for your exams but with your lack of focus and high level of stress, you don't think you can finish everything.

you stand up angrily, push the papers in front of you to other side, and try to breathe. you know you should stay calm to achieve your goals, academic validation has always been important for you and you know exactly well what you're going through right now, you've been there countless times.

you can't help the tears streaming down your face. you cover your face with your hands, walking to your bed, and lay facedown. you cry for what felt like hours, your head starts aching. you just want to get out of this terrible mindset and start studying but there is no motivation to hold onto right now.

you hear the doorbell ring and leave your bed with slow steps. you don't even bother to look at yourself on the mirror, who cares anyway. you open the door, only to see your boyfriend aemond targaryen standing there with his perfect posture.

"sweetheart?"

you pull him inside and wrap your arms around him instantly. he never rejects your touch, steps inside, and closes the door. he holds you, curious of what happened. he tries to keep himself from asking questions, he knows you'll tell him after you catch your breath.

he tries to look at your face, cups your cheeks. you look at him with big, teary eyes, and wet eyelashes. he kisses your forehead, your hairline. "let's go to your room, shall we?"

you nod, take his hand and let him lead you. he takes a quick look on the room and sees the thrown out papers, pens everywhere, and your laptop screen which is closed. your bed is messy and there are empty coffee cups everywhere in different spots.

he sits on your bed and pulls you to his lap. your tears slow down, and you take a deep breath. you brush away your tears with angry fingers and he holds your hands, stops you from your harsh touches.

"shh, don't hurt yourself, love."

he gently touches your cheeks, dries your tears and kisses your face. "would you like to talk about it?"

"nothing happened, it's just- there's only one week aemond! and i don't know how to finish them all, how to focus. i've read the entire text this morning and when i finished there was nothing in my head! i'm- i don't know what to do."

he knows how you feel like when you think you don't believe you won't achieve everything you want. he has seen how you act when you stress too much, how you try to stay awake all night to finish your work.

"let's calm down for a moment, hmm? you don't have to start just now. you can take your time baby."

you shake your head. "but it's-"

he shushes you by kissing your lips. your stiff body melts into him, he kisses you until you stop thinking anything but him. aemond targaryen is a good distraction. literally.

he kisses your lips passionately, not stops until you reach for his hand. you break the kiss and put your head on his shoulder. he rubs your back with kind fingers. he wants you to take all the time you need to go back to your normal self from this stressful state.

"i think we should let some air in this room. i'll open the window, and you wash your face. meet me in the kitchen after you finish baby."

you nod, stand up and leave his lap. he opens the window first, then takes all the coffee cups from your room to the kitchen. he knows how you don't like it when someone makes changes on the table you are studying on, how you organize your stuff in your head and even if the table looks messy, it's organized for you.

you go to kitchen after washing your face with cold water. he greets you as he leans to the counter, kisses you hello and gives you a smile.

"are you hungry?" he asks.

you shake your head. "coffee?"

he already knew you would ask for more coffee. "there were 3 cups in your room baby, are you sure you want more?"

you nod. "yes but with more milk please."

"you go to the couch, i'll be back."

you listen to his words, go sit on the couch comfortably and pull the soft blanket on you. he comes back with two cups after a few minutes and puts them on coffee table.

he takes you in his arms with motioned movements. it's always the same with him, big arms around you and his scent everywhere. his presence makes you calm down because you know how he'll convince you into the truths you can't see right now.

"am i going too hard on myself?" you ask with a small voice. "are my goals too high for me to reach?"

he gently takes your hand and kisses the back of it. "no, my love. i don't think your goals are too high for you to reach. i believe you can achieve anything you want, however you want."

"you do?"

"of course i do. you're my perfect girl, remember? you know it's normal to have breakdowns once in a while. you've been through them before and there's no reason for you to fail right now."

you snuggle to his chest. you know he's right and this gives you a chance to breathe without your heart clenching with anxiety.

"thank you." you say with a soft voice.

he kisses your forehead before answering. "there's no need to thank me. you know i'll be here for you, baby."

[20forty9]

I Didn't Mean To Haunt You

Chapter III - Sisyphus

Summary : Suliman makes the spirit realize something about itself and the curse it bears. You find yourself feeling more down than usual.

Word Count : 5.3k

Warnings : Suicidal ideation, uncomfortable touching because it's Suliman, lol.

Pairings : Gojo Satoru/Reader, Geto Suguru/Reader, Everyone/Reader (Reverse Harem)

Cross-posted on Ao3

A/N : Hiya! Back with another short chapter. I'm posting this one early because I'll be away next week and won't update for 2 weeks. I'll be active on Tumblr as always, though! As an apology for my going away, you get more Satoru and Suguru this chapter! Enjoy, please let me know what you think of this chapter, I love reading your comments and they motivate me. (I see your comments ladies, and they make me smile - I'm lurkin' and I'm stalkin' when you least expect it-) (please someone get this reference, I'm embarrassed now)

  Sometimes the curiosity can kill the soul but leave the pain. ~Alice In Wonderland

Even after two or three weeks of back and forth blood tests, physical tests, psychological tests and even more tests , the initial shock that the spirit’s heart no longer belonged to itself didn’t wear off. It seemed that it checked its pulse every alternating hour, just to confirm that it truly wasn’t there. And each time without fail, there would be a lack of thumping underneath its shaky fingertips. 

The missing heart didn’t seem to stop any normal biological workings of its body, however. Sweat still formed underneath its palms, blood still pumped throughout its body, but it was a mystery as to how. Even with all the lingering questions at the back of its mind, the spirit was too afraid to ask, scared that there would be a possibility that it would learn something it would rather not know in the first place. 

It spends most of its time looking outside the window of its locked room. With every day that passes, it starts to resemble a prison cell more and more. The spirit would never imagine it would long for its old life, shrouded in naivety and unknowing of the current horrors it now faces. It feels melodramatic as it reminisces; stop complaining, you got what you deserved, a nasty voice says at the back of its mind . Why didn’t it just stay with its kind instead? Why did it have to wonder what the other side looked like? It spends most hours chastising itself for how stupid it was for shaking a dirty human’s hand. 

Said-dirty human unlocks the door to the spirit’s room, a small smile playing upon her lips. Dreading that Suliman is gathering it for another test, it cowers into the furthest corner of its bed, shoulders raised up to its ears as it tries to make itself seem as small as possible, as if it could make itself vanish into thin air, but the glare it sends her is deadly. 

“Oh, don’t give me that,” she says, sitting down on the bed, hands neatly folded over her lap. “I come bearing good news.” 

What you consider good news is terrible news for me, it thinks to itself, teeth grinding together. 

“You’ll be allowed outside today,” Suliman wistfully looks outside the window, peering down and observing the garden outside. 

That makes its eyes widen by a slight margin. It doesn’t remember the last time it felt the sun on its bare skin, nor the soft breeze enveloping it with a soft caress. Hell, it doesn’t even recall when it last smelled fresh air.

It realizes a moment too late that it gave too much of a reaction to the woman in front of it. She squints her eyes as the smile on her face grows, unnaturally so, pleased with herself. Too trusting, too expressive. Get a hold of yourself. 

“Follow me,” she beckons it to follow as she gets up from the bed, taking slow steps out of the doorway as she leads it down the dimly lit hallway. 

The spirit notices that there’s a new painting adorning one of the once-empty spaces along the wall; a picturesque illustration of a landscape made up of yellow sand and brown dead grass, with short trees with skinny stumps and lots of foliage. It can’t help but wonder where this location is. Its eyes scour the small details of the painting, noticing each brushstroke and dot that the artist left behind in their wake. The oranges and blues of the sky mix together, creating a beautiful sunset. At the bottom of the frame sits a golden plaque. 

South Malawi… it reads the words in its head. Wonder where that is. 

A shove to its shoulder from one of the men standing behind it pulls the spirit from its daydreaming, and begrudgingly, it continues to follow Suliman from behind. It knows it shouldn’t take the opportunity to go outside for granted, but it can’t help but think this is another one of her big schemes that will only cause pain and grievance. 

The small group makes their way to the impressive greenhouse, and though it has passed through it multiple times by now, it still can’t help but admire the humongous banana plant that nearly reaches the top of the archway of the glass ceiling. It can see that it is flowering, the pastel pink of the flower’s petals contrasting against the vibrant green of the plant’s huge leaves. The spirit doesn’t know if it’s Suliman who takes care of this herself, or if she has a team of gardeners for it, but either way it holds a small smidge of respect to whoever upkeeps the greenhouse. 

Right before they reach the exit of the greenhouse, Suliman stops and turns to face the spirit. 

“I expect that you’ll behave and listen to what I tell you to do,” she says, eyes boring into its own. “If you don’t, I’ll be very disappointed.” Code-word for ‘I have no problem tossing you back into that room where you first woke up and letting you rot.’ 

Anxiously, it subtly nods that it will obey her. As badly as it wants to turn tail and run, the spirit knows that there is a high chance that whatever plan it tries to pull will inevitably backfire on it. 

With that, the shaman smiles again with an air of satisfaction before she opens the doors. 

Immediately, a small breeze brushes against its face, as if the wind is welcoming it back outdoors. The spirit inhales deeply, the smell of dewy grass hitting its nostrils – the garden must’ve been recently watered. It’s early in the evening, the sun barely starting to set, so most people are inside preparing dinner, leaving Suliman, the spirit, and her small group of men to themselves. There are a few small bats starting to fly haphazardly from tree to tree, the afternoon light casting cool shadows along the ground. 

Suliman leads it through the gardens, her hands brushing through the neatly-trimmed foliage and stroking delicate flower petals. If she were anyone else, the spirit would think that this is the image of pure innocence, of embracing the natural beauty of the world, but in reality, it is anything but. Instead, this is the image of despicable ugliness, manipulation that can rot someone’s bones deep to their core.  

They arrive at an expanse of land that remains untouched by the gardeners, void of trees and any shrubbery. With a wave of her hand, the group of men stop walking, hanging back and staying still along the path of the gardens. Their cold eyes stay locked onto the spirit, analyzing each breath it takes. 

Meanwhile, Suliman continues to take a few steps forward, putting a fair amount of distance between her and the spirit. Her lips move as she moves her hands to form a symbol that it doesn’t recognize, familiar dark and wispy tendrils that once covered its arm being erected from the ground. 

It immediately takes a few steps back, arms raising defensively in front of itself, fists clenched in case the shaman tries to attack it again. Instead, a smirk plays upon her lips, and with another quick motion of her hands, the tendrils move to wrap around themselves, slowly shaping into what looks like a scarecrow; black and purple shadowy arms outstretched with skinny stump-like legs to keep it standing upright. 

When the weird scarecrow doesn’t show any sign of moving, the spirit’s shackles slightly lower, but its muscles are still tense in unease. It casts a confused look in Suliman’s direction, who approaches the spirit and steps behind it, her hand coming up to move its right bicep to raise again, this time to aim at the tendrils. Her other hand wraps around its waist, making dread and nausea pool in the familiar pit at the bottom of its stomach. It swallows down the rising bile at the back of its throat, eyes trying to focus on the scarecrow in the distance. Her touch makes its skin crawl, and it's almost considering ripping it off. 

Suliman hooks her chin over its shoulder, gaze boring into the side of its head. The hand resting on its waist trails up the side of its rib, making goosebumps erupt along its skin, before it latches onto its chin, turning its head to face her. Her unnaturally soft skin seems like sandpaper against its own, making it swallow back the uncomfortable amount of spittle gathering in its mouth. When did it become so powerless? 

“I want you to destroy that,” her eyes flit over to the scarecrow. “Use your fire.” 

With that, she retreats to observe from behind, hands clasped together in expectation. 

Its eyes drift back to the target in front of it. It knows from previous experience that if it tries anything with its other abilities, they won’t reply to its first initial pull until it does it again, but that only results in agonizing pain. What’s to say this won’t be different? 

The spirit takes a quick glance back to the shaman looming behind it. Her eyes are almost closed from the large grin that stretches across her face. Everything about her is just… wrong. Unfortunately, it can’t afford to piss her off unless it wants to get locked in that cellar once again. 

It takes a deep breath to steel itself, thumb pressing against its middle finger, closing its eyes to focus on singling out the cursed energy that surely must be enemating from the tendrils. Strangely enough, it feels nothing. Attributing it to its nervousness around Suliman, the spirit tries harder to concentrate, but there’s still a lack of cursed energy in the air. Very strange; a woman of her power should surely be exuding large amounts of it, especially the offsprings of her unintelligible technique, but there seems to be a void instead. Her control must be absolutely phenomenal, it thinks to itself. 

No matter – after countless years of being deaf, its other senses have become impossibly more refined. Its eyes can pick out details that others cannot see from long distances, and for its ability to actually hit anything, it must know precise measurements. In the case of the scarecrow, it stands exactly fifty-four meters away from the spirit. 

With a quick snap of its right hand, sparks emerge from the tips of its fingers, a hot beam of fire emerging and darting towards the target at high speeds, engulfing it in bright unnatural blue and cyan flames. When the flames and smoke dissipate a few seconds later, all that is left is a pile of ashes laying in the grass. 

The spirit felt absolutely no pain. 

But… 

“Isn’t it amazing, what a blazing fire can decimate in a matter of mere seconds?” Suliman immediately invades its view, interrupting its slowly dawning horror. “You are gifted with such immense power… you could destroy anything that stands in your path.” 

The insinuation that she has something else on her mind isn’t lost on it, but the spirit quickly backs away from her, trying to put a safe amount of distance between the two. Another snap of its fingers, and it summons a small flame on the tip of its index finger. Blue and cyan. It gets snuffed out as quickly as it came. 

The nausea seems to take over again; the flames aren’t as hot as they originally used to be and are a completely different colour. It’s an unfamiliar feeling to manipulate fire that feels like it doesn’t belong to itself, like the element knows its own existence is wrong. Hot white anger pulses through the spirit, teeth grinding together as its jaw clenches painfully hard. How dare she reduce it to this? How dare she manipulate its very being this way? She’ll pay. It will destroy her and everything she’s worked for. The spirit still has its fire, it will make sure it decimates everything here. She’ll fucking regret the day she met this spirit–

Searing pain courses from its left arm and spreads throughout its entire body, making it double over, heaving and gasping shallow breaths of air. As it tries to recuperate itself, it sees Suliman crouch down to meet its eyes, tilting her head as if to taunt it further. 

“Sorry, did I forget to mention…?” She says, grey eyes lighting up in morbid glee. “You better learn how to control that anger, spirit. What is it that Mark Twain said… oh, I know! Anger is an acid that can do more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured. Or something along those lines– honestly, he never interested me very much.” 

Her gaze trails down to the spirit’s left arm, and its own follows. Underneath the short silk wrap, it notices that the curse mark has peeked through the fabric. Did the fabric move when it snapped its fingers…? Wait, no–

“–It’s spreading,” Suliman finishes its thought process. 

Just when it felt a flicker of hope at the prospect of being able to use its fire to ruin this god forsaken place, it all comes crumbling back down. There is no winning against this cruel shaman and whatever demented curse that has been placed upon it. 

“Well, that’s enough for today. It’s getting late,” she says, waving a simple gesture at the men on standby. They immediately make their way over, surrounding her and the spirit as they force it to walk forward back towards the greenhouse. “I’m sure you’ve learned your lesson.”

As the sun sets behind them, the spirit can’t help but think it would rather die than be here. 

It yearns to let itself rot in the ground and let go. 

 

It’s been about a week or so since you have seen any of the other students around campus. You would like to assume it’s the higher-ups doing it on purpose, trying to isolate you from the rest of them, but in reality you know that it’s you doing this to yourself. You’ve barely left your dorm room, spending your days moping in bed instead. For some reason, the nightmares have been getting worse. Though you used to be able to go for days without sleep, it doesn’t seem to apply to you now. 

Your hands tremble, muscles weak and face dripping with sweat every time you wake up violently from whatever nightmare you were having. It’s enough to drain you for the rest of the day. Instead of going outside and training or doing anything else to distract yourself from it, you stare at the wall in front of you, eyes unfocused and mind anywhere but the present. 

The lack of sleep makes the pain in your arm more bothersome than ever, but you can’t find it in yourself to care enough to take the shitty medication Yaga gives you. It sits untouched on the nightstand beside your bed. 

It doesn’t help that you’ve also barely eaten, only having a few snacks that you keep in one of the drawers in the room and some water when you feel like you can stomach it. You had just enough energy today to take a shower for the first time in nearly a week, so maybe you’ll be able to actually eat a meal this evening. 

You currently lay down on your side, back facing the doorway and gazed fixed upon the blank wall that the bed is pressed up against. Your hair is still damp from the shower you took an hour ago (you couldn’t be bothered to dry it), strands of hair staining the pillowcase with water. Your arms are left uncovered, clean bandages laying on the floor, exposing the curse mark and old scars that run along the length of them. 

It felt like just when you thought things could start to look up, life always threw you in for another loop, no matter how hard you tried and continued to try. There were days where this bothered you more than usual, and some days where you just didn’t care enough, feeling completely numb. At least when you pretended to be happy, putting on a nice smile and ignoring the constant nagging voice at the back of your mind, you could imagine what it would be like to feel normal for once. 

There’s a sudden large palm that gently touches your back, making you suck in a deep breath and flinch away, quickly turning your head to face whatever was disrupting your peace. Wide eyes lock onto dark brown ones, the familiar sight of Yaga greeting you instead of an enemy. 

“ Sorry,” the teacher signs, immediately retracting his hand, opening his mouth to speak. “I tried to grab your attention, but you weren’t responding . ”

Immediately, you break eye contact and shake your head. 

“ It’s fine, ” you move your hands lazily in reply. 

Yaga takes in the sight; messy unkempt hair sticks up at awkward angles, your eyes are impossibly sunken in, and there’s a shake to your hands when you sign. The brunette sighs out deeply, disappointed that he didn’t catch onto this sooner. 

“Come with me, let’s get you out of this room,” he says. 

You can’t look directly at him, but you can’t tear your eyes away from his lips, either. I don’t want to, you think to yourself, I don’t want to go out there right now. I want to stay here. Leave me alone. 

“You can’t stay in here and rot in bed all day, it’s not good for you. At least come with me to prepare some tea,” Yaga refuses to leave you alone in this state of mind, having become familiar with it by this point. There are bad days, and then there are worse days. 

Empty, droopy eyes look back at him, not a single trace of emotion across your face. You know he won’t leave until he gets what he wants – you remember the time Yaga dragged you out of the room by the feet as you threw a tantrum – and resolutely shuffled your body to get out of bed. 

Satisfied, Yaga stands up, extending a hand that you don't accept. Instead, you take the bandages laying on the floor and wrap them around to cover both arms individually. Though they’re loose, you don't want to be touched by anyone right now. Even though it’s not cold enough, you take an oversized hoodie and put it on, the loose sleeves barely touching the bandages. You’re already wearing some soft baggy sweatpants and fuzzy socks on your feet. 

Without exchanging any words or signs, Yaga leads you out of the room after you put your shoes on. You don't bother looking up, either, too wrapped up in your own self-pity to really care enough about what he may have to say to you. 

There’s a communal kitchen in the dormitories, and the teacher must’ve passed through before visiting your room because there are already two mugs full of piping hot green tea set on the table. Slowly, you both sit down across from each other. 

For a solid twenty minutes, you don’t talk. Both of you slowly sip on your tea, letting the taste comfort you. You feel your muscles start to loosen up, though you can’t tell if it’s from exhaustion catching up or from the relaxed state the drink puts you in. 

Yaga doesn’t ask any questions about what is running through your mind, knowing he won’t get an answer. When you are in this state, you tend to keep everything close to your chest; whether it’s because you want to, or because you don't know where to start or what to say is unknown to the both of you. For lack of a better term, you shut down. 

Instead, he decides to take your mind off of things. 

With a tap to the table to grab your attention, Yaga puts his cup down. 

“I got approval from the elders to send you out on a mission with my students,” he says. 

Your eyebrows lightly raise in surprise. You weren't expecting them to fold that quickly, even though it took a few weeks. 

“They’ll be sending you all out tomorrow,” he takes the last sip left of his tea. “I want you to be very careful, don’t unleash anything that will make them lose their minds.”

You nod, feeling the swell of determination blossom in your chest. “ I won’t let you down. ” 

Yaga slightly tilts his head to the side, the corners of his mouth quirking up very subtly. 

“When have you ever?” 

You look down at your empty mug. Just now? When I could barely manage to get out of bed, like usual? I let my emotions get the better of me again, I’ve become weak. It’s an endless cycle. I’m so tired. 

Instead of acknowledging any of these thoughts anymore, you look back up at your friend, sending him a tired smile, one that you hope comes across as genuine. 

“Nevertheless, stay alert and please take care of my students for me,” the teacher says, rising from his chair. “And go take a walk before the sun sets today.” 

He doesn’t see you rolling your eyes behind his back as he walks away – he acts too much like a father sometimes. However, you decide to listen to Yaga anyway; a walk will do you some good. 

After putting your empty cup in the dishwasher, you stuff your hands in the pocket of your hoodie, making your way outside. It’s more cloudy than usual today, the sun barely peeking through the dark clouds, but that doesn’t deter you. You take slow steps as you try to enjoy a leisurely stroll around campus. There doesn’t seem to be a single soul around today, probably staying inside just in case it starts raining. 

It’s been a long time since you have lived in isolation away from everyone besides the man who took you in, so you don't feel lonely as you walk down the pathway by yourself, but you have to admit that it feels like something is missing. Though you had only interacted with Yaga’s students a handful of times, they had a certain energy they brought to the room, one that couldn’t be replicated on its lonesome. Geto, Gojo and Shoko always freely joke around each other, complimenting each other’s personalities perfectly. 

You find yourself yearning for that connection that they have with each other. 

You look up ahead, feet dragging along the ground as you notice a figure sitting underneath the shadows of a large tree, lost in their own world. The pure white hair is unmistakingly Gojo’s, who seems to be alone for once, not surrounded by his entourage of friends. He seems to be looking down at something in his lap, and you decide to approach him. 

Gojo hears your footsteps on the pavement before he sees you, peering through his glasses to look at you. 

“Wow, you look like shit,” he says. 

Direct to the point as always. 

You simply nod in reply. Too exhausted to think about Gojo’s discomfort surrounding the cursed spirit situation, you sit down next to him, back pressed against the thick trunk of the tree. Your shoulders are nearly touching, but you make sure to lean back just far enough once you notice the proximity. 

You observe Gojo’s face from the side for a moment, noticing the furrow of his brows and the tired look in his eyes hiding behind the pair of sunglasses. If you were in any other state of mind, you might say that the white-haired man looks sad , but you quickly shake that thought out of your mind. Him, being sad? He’s the most arrogant and extroverted person here, always surrounded by someone. And yet…

Gojo closes the book resting in his lap when he notices you trying to take a subtle peek at what he was reading. There’s a strange leaping sensation in your throat as you see the cover.  

Why is he reading a book about sign language? 

The white-haired man tries to shuffle the book out of your sight, putting his large hands over it and turning to face you slightly. 

“Can I help you?” He asks, and shit, you can’t tell if he’s joking or being sarcastic now that his eyes are covered by the pitch-black sunglasses. 

You shrug awkwardly, shaking your head no. 

“Wait, no, try signing instead,” Gojo says, turning his body slightly to face you more. You raise an eyebrow, but obey him anyway. 

“ Seemed like you could use some company, ” you sign. 

Gojo stares at him for a moment, brows furrowing, before he shakes his head, looking absolutely stumped. “Nope, I got nothing.” 

Not entirely surprised, you point from the book to him. Why do you have this in the first place? 

He huffs, sunglasses dropping down to the tip of his nose, bright blue eyes averting to look anywhere but at you. 

“I gotta know when you’re talking shit about me,” he says, crossing his arms. “Plus, sensei seems to be super keen on trying to get you to join us for missions, so I have to understand you somehow. You can’t fight and write in that dumb notebook of yours at the same time.” 

Though you can’t speak in the first place, you find yourself speechless. Or motionless, in this case . Gojo was so rude on your first meeting, shackles raised and ready to fight you at any moment, yet here he is now, determined to try to pick up sign language faster than any other person you have ever known… though he words it in his own strange way. 

Unable to formulate a reply, you give him a soft smile, one that you know you don't need to fake. 

The white-haired male doesn’t speak any further until he looks down at the book, moving his hands off of it to open it again, then looking back up at you, whose eyes are already on his lips. 

“Teach me how to sign my name.” 

So, for the next twenty minutes, you teach Gojo how to fingerspell his name, the latter catching on rather quickly. Of course he’s naturally good at sign language , you think to yourself somewhat bitterly. 

Gojo’s blue eyes are uncovered at this point, sunglasses resting on top of his head as he brings his entire focus to the lesson at hand. He seems strangely invested, nodding his head vigorously as you sign your own name, then a common greeting. 

His attention is finally diverted to something behind you. Gojo waves at the person with a small grin stretched across his face. Curious, you turn around, seeing Geto approach the duo. 

“Hey guys, what’re you doing over here?” He asks, taking a seat in the grass in front of the two of you, legs crossed. He notices the book in Gojo’s hand. “Sign language?” 

“Yeah,” The latter shrugs nonchalantly. 

Geto grabs the book from off his friend’s lap, flipping through the pages. Wondering what the pictures look like, you move over to peer over Geto’s shoulder and take a glance at them. The raven-haired man tilts his head slightly to the side to allow for a better view, pausing at a specific page. 

“Ohh, look, they have signs for animals,” he smiles. 

An image of an unhealthy black betta fish sits right next to another of a pure white one with healthy fins. There’s a smaller picture of a red and white koi fish underneath both of them, rolled over on its back. Next to the images are illustrations of hand signals, with the names and meanings written next to them. 

“This is how you sign fish, right?” He asks, turning to look at you. You suddenly notice how close your faces are to each other, but neither of you make a move to change that as you nod, pointing to the black fish. 

“Sad fish, ” you sign, then point to the other one. “ Happy fish. ” Then, the red and white one. “ Dead fish.” 

All three of you suddenly deadpan. 

“Did you seriously pick up a kid’s book on sign language?” Geto turns his head up to look at Gojo. 

“They didn’t have any other available books, sue me!” He immediately exclaims in defense, yanking the book back. “There weren’t many sign language books.” 

“Kinda morbid for a kid’s book, don’t you think?” 

“It’s never too early to learn about mortality!” He says with a gleeful smile spread across his face before reading through the pages again. 

You huff in amusement before you get nudged by Geto’s elbow, who looks at you expectantly. 

“How do I sign my name?” He asks, the look in his eyes so soft that it makes you nervously look away for a second. 

Another ten minutes pass as you teach them both how to sign each other’s name. You’re just about to move onto Shoko’s name when there’s a large flash of light that explodes from the dark grey clouds in the sky. Immediately, it starts pouring. Thick droplets of rain cascade and puddles are already forming in the divets in the ground. 

“Oh shit – let’s go inside!” Gojo exclaims, lifting his shirt up to hide the book underneath it to protect it. 

“Run, run ! Go!” Geto laughs, grabbing your wrist and heaving you up off the ground, the three of you immediately dashing through the storm to the dormitories. Your converse are completely soaked when the raven-haired man accidentally makes you run through a large puddle, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. The cold rain is so refreshing as it hits your skin, waking you up more than your blistering shower did this morning. 

You look back at Gojo, who frantically scrambles behind the two of you to slam the door shut as the wind picks up, blowing rain into the entranceway of the building. 

The three of you exchange looks with each other, taking in each other’s soaked appearances. Then, the two young men burst into laughter, you silently laughing, eyes crinkling as the smile spreads widely across your face. You can see Gojo and Geto’s shoulders shake from their sniggering. 

Your clothes are anything but dry, sticking awkwardly to your skin with mud covering you head-to-toe, but it’s so amusing that you all just keep chortling at the situation. 

“Wh– wait– what happened to the book?!” Geto asks his friend through bursts of chuckles. 

Gojo reaches underneath his soaked shirt, pulling the book out; all the pages are crinkled, water dripping down the spine of it. He pouts, realizing it’s completely ruined. 

“Aw man,” he whines. “It’s totally done for.” 

Reluctantly, he throws it in the trash bin near the front door, knowing there’s nothing he can do to salvage it. 

“Well,” Geto says after catching his breath, looking at the two of you. “Guess we gotta go dry off. I’m gonna go take a warm shower, that rain was freezing .” 

Gojo’s already running back to his own room, waving a simple goodbye to them and leaving a trail of water in his wake. 

Geto awkwardly throws a smile in your direction. “See you tomorrow, I guess?” 

You nod in reply, grinning and doing a sideways peace sign. “ See you later.” 

As the raven-haired man walks in the same direction that Gojo went, you steal a quick glance at the trash bin. You make your way over to it, peering inside, and hesitantly reach an arm inside of it, grabbing the book that was thrown away just mere moments ago. 

You hold the book close to your chest, heading in the opposite way from where the two men disappeared into to go back to your own room, feeling a weird sense of satisfaction in the back of your mind.

[latenightsimping]

THE EDGE

“...There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who’ve gone over.” - Hunter S. Thompson, Hell’s Angels

Summary: A part of the deal to freedom included a stay at Pennhurst. It’ll take everything to keep the hope that one day the locked doors will open, the windows will no longer have bars that block the view, and that one day, the name Eddie Munson will be synonymous with the word ‘innocent’. The hope, he never realised, would also come to be synonymous with your name.

Chapter: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: angst, heavy themes of inpatient treatment/hospitalisation, heavy themes of mental health, institutional deprivation of liberties, body injuries, mentions of suicidal ideation, themes of institutional abuse, can be a dark read (continue with that in mind, look after yourselves), canon divergence, Eddie survives the demobat attack, post-S4 timeline, slow burn romance, eventual smut, 18+, eventual fluff, there will be a happy ending

AN: Chapter three is finally here! Many thanks to my lovely boyfriend @mantorokk-writes for test reading and making the header, I'm forever in love with you <3 This series is gonna be a slow work in progress, but thank you for reading so far! Really excited to see where it's gonna go, and how we're gonna get these two out of this pickle. Enjoy!

Taglist: @edsforehead, @idkidknemore, @harrys-tittie, @gaysludge, @smileygoth

A congealed lump of what was apparently mac and cheese, boiled to death vegetables and bitter orange juice. Eddie had become used to shit food long ago, thanks to a lifetime of only buying the cheapest non-brand groceries to try and save costs. But this… This was something else. Fuck, he was surprised it even passed the mark for being fit for human consumption. It reminded him of the stories his old man used to tell about prison food, about how the trick was to eat it without thinking too much, barely savouring the taste before you swallowed. The similarity getting stuck in his throat.

But at least he wasn’t eating his meals in silence anymore. With you sitting opposite him, filling any dead air with talking about the hospital gossip, though he’d given up on trying to follow along after the first apparent affair taking place. But the content didn’t matter. For the first time in so long, maybe even longer than he realised, you had offered him a seat to get out of trouble with no motive behind the action. Had given him his own pack of cigarettes after swindling one from an orderly just before lunch started, the one that seemed to stare at your chest more than your eyes, putting yourself at risk for no gain of your own. It was exceedingly rare to find people that would do something out of the goodness of their hearts, and the question was rattling around his head with such a velocity that it tumbled from his lips before he even realised. 

“Why are you doing this?” 

Even he internally winced at the lack of warmth in his tone, making it sound more like an accusation than a question. But if it offended you, you didn’t act as if it bothered you. Instead, the corners of your lips twitched upwards, eyes drifting from your tray to his own as you tilted your head. 

“What’dya mean?”

Giving himself a few needed seconds to reframe the words in his head with taking a sip of his drink, he swirled the contents of the paper cup, deciding to stare down into it rather than look up. “I mean, why are you helping me? You don’t know me.” 

From the very quick glance upwards he chanced, there seemed to be something there that was bittersweet. Eyes slightly widened, mouth downturned, yet an ever so slight huff of a laugh as you balled up a serviette in your hands. “Trust me, I know how it feels to be the new guy on the wing. The way the others look at you like you’re a fuckin’ chew toy?” 

He’d noticed the way the other patients stared, when the steel door behind him slammed shut. Some didn’t even look over, too caught up in their own internal world. But there’s a certain feeling that can overcome a person when they’re accustomed to having to be on high alert at all times. A certain flash of the eyes that makes your stomach churn, blood pooling to your feet and your mind telling you to run. You studied his face for a moment, a sympathetic smile briefly twitching at your lips. 

“I had someone look out for me too, when I first got here,” you explained, the paper in your hand now being twisted and toyed with as you spoke. “She uh… Her name was Patty. She was this take no shit kinda woman. Taught me the best way to curb the hunger was smoking cigarettes, which orderlies would give pretty girls special treatment, which patients to never go near. That sorta useful shit.” 

Though you smiled, it didn’t reach your downcast eyes. “She got sick last year. Didn’t say much about it, but it took a toll on her. It finally got her a couple of months back. And you know what the worst thing was about it?” 

Plenty of what you were saying was ‘the worst thing’. Being caught on the wrong side of a power dynamic, having to go hungry because nobody cared, patients having to be caregivers because God forbid those that actually got paid to do it actually did their fucking jobs for once. All of those answers dying on his tongue, replaced with a slow shake of his head.

“Nobody came to see her in the end,” you muttered, brows furrowing as your voice cracked. “She told me she had a son, told me the doctors called him and told him, but he never came. I get it, I mean, not many of us have the luxury of seeing people from the outside… But she was on her fucking deathbed, y’know?” 

When your eyes finally met his, glossy with unshed tears that you seemed so determined to never let overspill, there was a look to you that made all the pieces click together. Made the parts of him that he’d kept buried away for self preservation start to rise back to the surface. Taking a firm grasp of his heart and squeezing for good measure. 

The look of pure fear. 

The fear that one day, both of you would end up like Patty. Untethered to the world outside, cast adrift with the other lost souls. Taking the last few rattled breaths with nobody around to hear them, looking up to the sky and the view still blocked with bars. Nobody with spare change for the ferryman, forever stuck. 

“I’m sorry.” It was all he could think to say, no other words seeming quite right. The tone as hollow as he felt, as shaky as the tremors in his hands that never quite seemed to go away. All he could think to say, but the truth. He was sorry you were here, if your proclaimed innocence was to be believed. He was sorry for himself too, deep down. 

“It’s whatever,” you replied, clearing your throat as you tried and failed to staple the look of nonchalance back on your face with a half decent result. “Anyway, don’t worry about your first therapy session, alright? I got it covered.” 

He shot you a small look of incredulity, head tilted to the side as he followed your lead in piling used napkins and cutlery onto his meal tray. “What’dya mean?” 

The smile you gave him next was finally a genuine one, a glimmer in your eye that could only mean mischief. 

“You’ll see.” 

~

You could see the stress levels that you tried so desperately to lower over lunch to begin raising as you and Eddie filed into the day room for group therapy. How his jaw clenched so hard you were surprised he didn’t break enamel, a shortening fuse near a naked flame as he took his seat next to you. Leg bouncing with beats akin to a hummingbird’s heart, chewing at the skin around his ruined nails with eyesight dancing around the room to end up on the tile right in front of him. You couldn’t blame him; he was walking into the unknown, with no idea where the hell he would end up. You remembered the feeling well. 

Others clad in the same off white uniform as you took their respective seats around you, the energy in the room a palpable, frantic buzz. Nerves, apathy, distaste and mocking. You could feel it all, see it in the faces around you that you’d come to know in the years that you’d been imprisoned. Small naked flames, that could be as harmless as a match or as intense as thermite. The day could go either way. And it would depend on the questions posed to them.

Dr. Madden made his way through the doors, adjusting the thick horned rimmed glasses that permanently perched on his beak-like nose as he took his seat. You’d never liked him; he was nosy, even for a psychiatrist, always putting two and two together to end up with an equation that made no fucking sense. Nothing could ever be simple, in his eyes. Someone’s violent outburst had some convoluted reasoning to do with Daddy issues and not being hugged enough as a child, rather than someone just needing a fucking cigarette and not being given one. It took everything within you not to roll your eyes into the back of your skull as he cleared his throat to begin. 

“Good afternoon everyone,” he began, eyes settling over each patient for a brief second before focusing on Eddie. “We’re welcoming a new person into the wing today. Have you had any sort of therapy like this before, Mr. Munson?”

Eddie’s reply was a brief shake of his head, glance not leaving the cracks of the floor as he fiddled with the split ends of his hair. Madden’s bushy eyebrow raised a fraction as he sat himself slightly forward. “Well, we start with a brief check in. How we’re feeling, what we’d like to talk about in today’s session. Perhaps you could start us off? You seem nervous today.” 

You couldn’t hold back a scoff, the psychiatrist’s beady eyes narrowing on you as you fished through your pockets for your pack of cigarettes. The look on his face evident that he wasn’t amused at your perceived insolence to his ‘therapeutic process’. He could shove that process where the sun didn’t shine, as far as you were concerned. 

“He’s a newbie, of course he’s gonna be nervous,” you shrugged, waving over an orderly with a lighter, who seemed to be watching you with ever so slight trepidation as he ignited the flame that you used to puff life into your cigarette. Huffing out an exhale of smoke that was aimed in his direction. “Bit of a redundant question, isn’t it?” 

Madden was a tough nut to crack, but you’d managed to get the veins in his neck bulging a couple of times. You just needed to know which buttons to press, and it seemed you hit one with a jab to his reasoning. “I don’t find it redundant at all,” he answered with a smile slightly too smug for your liking. “But if you think that an example of a check in could help, maybe you could go first instead?” 

You took a sharp inhale as you gave a grimace of indifference, face scrunched up as you jerked your head towards an older lady that seemed on the edge of her seat to talk. “Why don’t you get Miriam to do it? From what I remember, she was just starting to open up about her fucker of an ex husband.”

Was using another patient’s anger, something you knew got them started into an hour long tangent until they were red in the face unethical? Maybe. But it was every man for himself out here, and you didn’t have anything akin to backup in the process. As expected, the woman launched into a tirade, screechings which contained the words “useless bastard” and “should have divorced him before he did it to me!” melding into the background as you shot a smug smirk in Madden’s direction. To his credit, he was hiding his distaste well, his only giveaway the slight flush creeping above his collar.

For most of the session, you managed to evade the heat from coming towards you and Eddie. A few more prods to Miriam, staying silent when the psychiatrist asked if anyone else had anything to add. A question to old man Hardy about the house he got kicked out from before being transferred, each person being used like a shield to hide from the questions you knew Madden had for you. You knew you were fucked from the moment he put his hand up to cut off Duane about his teenage trauma prematurely, eyes fixed on you as he sat back in his chair. 

“Does Duane’s story resonate with you?” he asked with a heightened pitch of voice, head slightly tilted as his lips twitched upwards. It caused your back to straighten, knowing full well where he was going with this. Somewhere you swore never to go back to, ever since the nightmares ever so slightly decreased and the flashing images weren’t permanently burned into the back of your eyelids. 

“No.” 

The words reverberated around clenched teeth, knuckles turned white as you gripped the cracked pleather of the cushion you sat on. Out of your peripheral vision, you saw Eddie staring at you with a slight questioning to his glance, and it made your gut twist even more. You hated how suddenly the tentative power dynamic had switched. How your already lacking control was going to spiral even further, if Madden willed it. 

“I think it might, though,” the good doctor continued, the slight smirk being poorly hidden as his head tilted to the side. “You had a lot happen when you were eighteen, didn’t you? When you made the choice to-”

“I’m not going to talk about it,” you snapped back, folding your arms as a poorly constructed buffer between you and the man opposite. Your eyes glanced at the clock on the wall, a slight ease of tension as you realised the time. “Not with only five minutes left of the session.” 

“But you’re going to have to talk about it sooner or later,” he countered, daring to look slightly sympathetic as he regarded you. “You’ve been here two years, and you’ve never talked about that night. It doesn’t show much progress, now does it?” 

You wanted to stand up, pick up your chair, and crash it over the top of his head. How the fuck would he know what ‘progress’ you’d been making? How much work you’d had to put into yourself, rationalising and justifying everything about the night that changed the path of your life, so much that you probably could never step foot on the original trail if you tried. How you still tortured yourself with what you could have done differently, the actions that you did take haunting you like spectres? Madden knew nothing of how often you’d dragged yourself off the precipice time and time again, nothing but bloody fingernails and a quickly ebbing will to live, as you weighed up the decisions of falling asleep to never wake up again against staying alive to do everything in your power to clear the stain on your name.

To Madden’s credit, he didn’t push further. Letting the silence hang in the air, perhaps a non-verbal push that might get you talking. It might have worked, once upon a time. When you had no secrets to hide, too worried about what others thought, wanting to please people so much that it deprived you of happiness. But that was before you were branded a psycho, tossed into this place with the key thrown away. Now, you couldn’t give a shit about what others thought. 

Except, there was a way your stomach dropped when you looked over to see the way Eddie looked at you. Not with disgust or horror, which you were used to by now. There was slight concern in his eyes, mixed with empathy, the combination making you want to squirm in your seat. You didn’t even know each other, yet his humanity seemed to still be intact for now, seeing another person clearly struggling and not being able to do anything about it. 

You decided to stare at the clock on the wall for the rest of the session, filtering out all other noises and focusing on watching the minute hand strike closer and closer until time was up. 

As you put away chairs, you expected Eddie to ask you about it. Maybe try to pry, or get answers for questions that could be in his own mind. But he didn’t. He stayed silent as you both wandered back to the table you met at, sitting down with him wordlessly reaching for the deck of cards in the middle and starting to shuffle. And silent you stayed. Going through the motions of a routine you knew too well; free time, ‘music’ therapy - as if listening to the same vinyl of Bach twice a week for two years would do anything other than make you want to smash your head against the chipped white walls. Dinner consisting of a brick of so-called ‘meatloaf’ that you knew well enough to avoid even attempting to eat, settling for tasteless vegetables and vaguely lime flavoured Jell-o instead. 

Even silent when the orderly Nguyen told you to haul ass to the laundry room for work placement, and to take your new ‘friend’ with you. You were brought out of the routine of folding sheets when you heard Eddie clear his throat, looking up to see him slightly rattled as he sorted various clothing into separate piles. 

“Hey uh… You don’t have to say anything if you don’t wanna, but… Thanks. For today.” You saw the corners of his lips twitch upwards, a ghost of a smile as his eyeline landed on the messy stack of undershirts. “Didn’t have to stick your neck out of me, but you did. Appreciate it.”

You mustered the leftover social energy you had to lift your shoulders into a slight shrug, rubbing the back of your head whilst the other hand took your weight as you leaned slightly on the table. “It’s nothing. Sorry for not being so talkative I just… Still don’t wanna talk about why I’m here, y’know?” 

A curt nod was his reply at first, lips a narrow line and eyes darting around as if he was thinking hard about something. Finally glancing towards the door, then around the room, as if to make double sure that what he was about to say wouldn’t be overheard. He looked panicked; either a deer in the headlights or a lion ready to defend itself, you weren’t sure. 

“They said I killed people.” 

It was so quiet you barely picked up on it, and you had to admit, it took you aback. There was an initial flight or flight reaction that doused your autonomic system, as if his words set off a red light in your head and you had to start looking for an improvised weapon. However, that was pure instinct, only for a second before logic took over. For someone who was apparently a killer, he certainly did look hollow about it all. Besides. Those in glass houses…

“Did you do it?” you mumbled back, eyes leaving his to take the pressure of both of you, hands busying themselves with folding the now grey sheet in front of you, toying with the frayed corner to try and conceal it in the fold somehow. 

“No.”

You found yourself at a precipice. He had stuck his neck out to tell you his charge, not knowing if you’d stick around or bolt and leave him on his own again. It was a sign of trust; an olive branch, that you could either accept or leave hanging between you. You had only known Eddie a day. Less than that, maybe seven hours, tops. But so far, he seemed to have his wits about him. He didn’t strike you as the judgemental type. He didn’t pry, and he tried to distract you when you were at your lowest, instead of offering useless advice or forcing you to open up. When you looked up at him, there was no hint of deceit that you could tell. He was staring at you with those intense eyes of his, an expression reading both ‘I’m telling the truth’ and ‘dear God, I hope you fucking believe me’. 

For so long, you had wanted reinforcements in this place so badly. To not fight alone, to have backup. In the outside world, no way would you trust someone this fast. But this was Pennhearst. A place with different rule sets. You needed to take the help wherever it came from, and hope it didn’t blow back in your face later. 

You needed to give him something in return. 

You didn’t falter with eye contact as you said the words you thought you’d never say. The words that made your stomach churn, made you want to flinch as you said them. “They said I killed people, too.” 

You saw the look on his face to be one of bewilderment, eyes scanning you up and down as if he’d never seen you before. You wondered if that’s what you’d looked like not five seconds ago, mirroring each other as you confessed your sins. “Did you do it?” 

“No.”

The crease between his eyebrows seemed to smooth, after what felt like hours of staring at each other, the only other sounds the rhythmic knocking of the decrepit industrial dryers. It was you who finally broke the silence, busying yourself again with grabbing the pile of undershirts near you by the bottom and pulling it towards you to begin folding. “I don’t expect you to believe me. And if you don’t want me to know about what happened, I’m not gonna push it.” You shook your head as you frowned at the fabric in your hands.

“Why do you believe me? When I say I didn’t do it?” 

You glanced back up at him to find a worried expression on his face, staring at you like he couldn’t quite believe you. As if it was too good to be true, to finally be believed. You wracked your brain for an answer, only to shrug and say the first thing on your mind. “Because guilty people don’t look so frightened of their consequences. I suppose on a subconscious level, they know they deserve the hell they created for themselves.”

You heard a sound which you figured to be a sharp exhale of air through his nose, most likely an attempt at a wry laugh. “You don’t look frightened.”

Your lips turned downward as you frowned again. “You get good at hiding it after a while, I guess.”

You heard your name being called, so softly that your heart nearly shattered. Not your last name being barked out with disdain, or in a patronising tone like a shrink would. It was said like somebody actually gave a shit. You looked up to be met with a look that was one of genuine concern, his eyebrows furrowed and lips slightly parted as if he was wondering what to say. 

It was getting too intense for your liking. 

Shaking your head as you cleared your throat, you flashed a tight smile as your folding became hurried. “Finish that pile quick, yeah? Orderlies hit the roof when you don’t finish your chores on time.” 

To his credit, Eddie didn’t push it. The rest of the time being filled with small talk and comfortable silences, until your names were called to be taken back to your room for the night. The motions of getting ready to bed had become mechanical a long time ago, on autopilot as you brushed your teeth and changed clothes. Hearing the call for lights out, and getting plunged into darkness against your will. You knew that first checks were in an hour. 

You had sixty minutes to cry to yourself about finally being seen, about not being treated like a criminal that deserved the way you were being treated. Hugging the pillow to your face and willing yourself not to be making a sound, clutching the cheap cotton between your fingers as if your life depended on it. Sixty minutes until you needed to shove the emotions back down, and face tomorrow, same as you always did. 

Same as you always did, but at least you had someone on your side. 

[totaldramafan-lauri]

Hi!!! I just wanted to tell you that I LOOOOOOVE your Golden Cheese x Reader fic :’) I recently started playing crk and I fell in love with her immediately. I was a little bummed since there’s not a lot of x reader content of her but then I checked ao3 and I found your fic. It is LITERALLY god-sent. What are the chances that I’d find a fic that is multi-chaptered, slow burn, ongoing and recent, with super long chapters, great characterization, a good plot, and awesome writing? I’ve never been so lucky!!! It took me 3 days to finish reading all of it and I am loving it. Thank you SO much for writing it.

Super excited for the last few chapters! Also sad because that means this fic is coming to an end 😔 I am praying that Reader is able to figure out their relationship with Her Radiance…

-🐝

O-oh my god.....oh my god, th-thank you....! Thank you so much for reading, and I'm so, so happy you enjoyed it....! I-I'm working as hard as I can to finish this, and comments like this are part of what keeps me motivated....! I-it's been a long road, but I'm sure I'm gonna do it....! I-I'm hanging in there.....! So....t-try to be patient with me....!

"Awesome writing"? Aaaaaaaa, I wouldn't go that far......I-I'm a wordy writer, and a perfectionist, but....would I call my work objectively awesome....? D-dunno.....but th-thanks for the compliment! Especially with characterization....I-I try really hard on that part....! >///////< A few characters are fun to write, but a couple others give me trouble, heh...

I-if this ends up becoming, like....THE Golden Cheese X Reader fic purely because of lack of competition....g-geez.....I dunno how I'd deal.....E-even if I did it first, does that mean I did it best....? No, no no no.....Th-this fic is SOOOOO self-indulgent....It's become SO much steamier recently, without me even planning it that way, just....As Reader becomes increasingly Head Empty Heart Too Full, so do I.....X//////////X I-I was actually worried about going overboard....I-I haven't lost the story completely, but STILL, pfffff....X/////D

I-I have heard from someone before that there aren't a lotta X Readers about her (I haven't checked the tag yet so I wouldn't know), and....i-it kinda saddens me, cuz she deserves more....! B-but at the same time, I did kinda call it, cuz....one reason why I actually went through with writing this thing after outlining it last October and realizing how long it was gonna be was....just....I-I didn't see a lot of.....th-this kind of affection for her at the time (in the CRK circles I'm part of, it looked like Burnt was getting all the simps, actually)....and I wanted to give her content, and do her justice...a big, BIG ol' underdog story, to show that anyone can be hers, as long as they pledge their loyalty.....t-to maybe feel like I wasn't alone in f-falling so dang hard for her...>///////> I-I'm SURPRISED at how much attention this has gotten....b-but it's a pleasant surprise....! I-I'm glad she's more popular than I thought at first....!

S-so....I'm really happy I can provide some food for my fellow simps...! S-sorry for rambling, but....this made me smile!

[anomnum]

Where I've Been

Hey folks, I just wanted to drop in and say that I am not actually dead or anything like that. Check the end of this post for information on what's actually been going on in my life, but before then, I just want to give an update on all of my writing projects.

Currently, I am in the middle of rewriting "Daughter of the Wild One," "The Brother and the Father," "Eden of the Soul, Volume One: Angels of the Dark," and "Fear Stops None, Salvation Seeker." There is also a rewrite of my oldest writing project, "Lost at Sea," being worked on, but it is not getting the attention it deserves in leu of my other fics. DotWO and FSNSS are the most actively being worked on, with TBatF and EotS taking a bit of a backseat to them. I also have multiple other unannounced projects in the background, which I occasionally work on in between the larger ones.

DotWO has been undergoing a reformat, as I wasn't a fan of the multi-part chapters, especially since AO3 doesn't allow for custom chapter numbering formats. I am instead splitting it into in-chapter Acts, which I plan to allow readers to jump to from the top of the page, so as to not overwhelm them with my admittedly mega-sized chapters. I'm attempting to drum up my motivation to keep pushing on the project, but it's slow going. The latest chapter is also still being worked on, but the rewrite and reformat is taking priority.

The rewrite of FSNSS has pretty much evolved from a simple rewrite to a complete and utter reboot, as I've gone all out with what I'm planning to do for the series. My biggest problem with the fanfics I wrote before 2022 and onwards was a lack of planning, which I've rectified by now doing an absurd amount of planning - this is part of why I've been so radio silent. I will say that I'm incredibly happy with what I've done for FSNSS, and I hope you'll all love it as much as I do when it finally releases.

A significant portion of my time has also been dedicated towards working on the latest update for my Fallout 4 mod, Anom's Sanctuary Hills Overhaul, which involves a lot of tedious navmesh rebuilding. I also have a large Metro System mod in the works, but I haven't put much effort towards it lately. My Starbound modding career is still completely dead in the water, but I'm thinking about porting all of my mods over to Nexus Mods.

Alright, time for the real talk section. My inactivity can be attributed to three things: a number of events that cropped up in my life which I'm still dealing with, a falter in my motivation to actually do a lot of things (which is sorta tied back to that first one), and the fact that nearly all of my ongoing fics are in the middle of being rewritten because my writing has drastically improved since I began all of them.

I've been reflecting a lot on my mental and physically health as of late. I do believe I have depression (hence my motivation issues, among many other problems), but I'm managing it well enough at the moment, and I believe it'll get easier to deal with once I start working. I've been going outside much more often, usually on hikes or walking through town every few days, which also contributes to my lack of actual progress on my art and writing.

I'm also fairly certain I'm on the autism spectrum, though I won't outright claim to be autistic here, as I don't have a diagnosis to back me up - a lot of the personal issues I've been dealing with just suddenly made more sense when I looked at it under this light. Especially one of my largest problems, which is my inability to work on my fanfics when I'm not actively hyper-fixated on the specific fandom they are a part of.

I apologize for pretty much falling off the face of the earth. I really need to start making these text posts, and using social medias in general, more often. I'm still kickin', and I'm still working on my projects.

[diodellet]

ooohh that ask game has some interesting questions hmm how abt 16, 18, and 23?

i am realizing just how much this ask game is making me bare my soul goshhh (/not srs), thanks for sending me an ask, bibi!

16. What makes you immediately close a fic that otherwise seemed good?

hm...well, most of the time i try to stick it out even if i'm not enjoying the fic from the first few sentences. like, maybe it's just me but a lot of the first words of a fic tends to be the (for lack of a better word) "the gunk" that precedes the actual story? like some stories just have slow starts, but they do get gud.

but to answer the q, i guess stuff that makes me roll my eyes at a fic, in the context of x readers would probably have to be:

disclaimer: most of the time, i don't mind reading these. but there are just moments where they bother me as i'm reading

reader getting carried bridal style (i dont like it, i hate it. id rather be carried like a sack of potatoes. or id rather be carried like a goat by its shepherd. but i do like seeing characters getting princess-carried) just carry me like this instead 🤧🤧👇

royalty AU++CEO/office/corporate-setting AU (like secret princess of a kingdom or being a secretary, for example) i'm not a big fan of those kinds of settings. like ok sure a chara can look good in business formal or in some fine furs, but once the eye candy wears off thats when i exit the fic oops.

fics centered around marriage: i don't really enjoy reading proposals. also thinking of how the rings, the dresses, and the flowers look is hard bcs of my (partial?) aphantasia, but weddings Are Pretty Fun as a background setting. overall, i think what bothers me most is that the chara loses a bit of their personality after they get wed together with the reader.

^^actually in relation to this... im not that big of a fan of prom/dance settings, they both read very similarly, especially since the reader tends to be placed in the more passive role of being asked out. (but when you make it angsty or hurt/comfort, ok i will read it i'm a simple girl)

Oh and ig this is just me wishing for more in the Imposter-SAGAU genre of fanfic (i mean i'm still looking around, i don't feel desperate enough to write smth of my own), but i kinda wish the charas weren't so doe-eyed and quick to apologize to the reader. like, i get the feeling of wanting to write The Good Bits Immediately (e.g. being fawned over, getting to lord that blunder over the characters) but the potential of slowburn trauma recovery and developing a relationship from straight-up antagonism is Right There.

18. What media do you want to get into because of artists/writers you like?

i think i'd want to try reading more poetry? like, if i rb a lot of web weaving, i gotta know sumn other than "deep" pop lyrics (u wont find me saying nice things about ms sw*ft). so far i'm thinking of starting with ocean vuong and richard siken (basic ik but i mean, their works are good)

dunmeshi! i've been putting it off for forever 🙈🙈 (<-girlie watched frieren and forgor abt dunmeshi bcs they got yorushika to do the 2nd OP) but senshi,,,, SENSHI THE MAN THAT U ARE,,,,

Oh! and i'm rlly curious about alien stage! my sibling's dipping into it and he told me it was basically america's got talent x the promised neverland. and he said the magic words "toxic yaoi" and "doomed yuri," i Gotta watch it atp. (also like, carole and tuesday rearranged my brain, im ready to put a sadder spin on it😤)

23. What would you make a 5 hour video essay on, if you had enough time and motivation?

as soon as i read this all my hyperfixations have: left the server HAHAHA

maybe in terms of recent ones, i could try analyzing madds buckley's my love is sick. i wrote about that album for a final paper in a basic music elective, but i was constrained to only 3 pages so i only talked about 2-3 songs. but i could pretend to be a music major and regale ppl with how the leitmotifs tie together and completely destroy me add a new layer of meaning to the songs on subsequent listens. Also like, these songs just Get It (not sure what "it" is exactly, but there's smth related to first love and love lost*)

(but atm im just yoinking songs from there to use for fic/chapter titles, i plan on using one for this ruggie timeloop angst fic im plotting out anyway)

(art appreciation ask questions, please bug me to rb some underrated art and fic)

[smokefalls]

Title: This Is How You Lose the Time War Authors: Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone Publication Year: 2019 Publisher: Saga Press Genre: fiction, queer lit, science fiction, romance

Novellas are tricky, considering their constraints and the author(s) having to do just the right amount of worldbuilding, character development, pacing, and the rest. I often find that many novellas don't quite work for me because I always felt something was missing/lacking. Unfortunately, this was the case for This Is How You Lose the Time War.

The novella heavily relies on the characters to carry the story, which I don't think is entirely an issue. I thought the epistolary approach was a really unique way to reveal the relationship between Red and Blue, as well as to help push the story along. However, I wasn't entirely taken to this romance. I had too many questions that might have been addressed if there was more worldbuilding. I think if the authors fleshed out their dystopian world some more so the reader could follow what was happening and why, the novella would have been far more compelling. It also would have greatly developed Red and Blue as characters because their motives would have been clearer.

Something else that stood out to me about this novella was the prose. It's very purple-y prose, which will work for some, while others will hate it. It was clear that a lot of thought went into each sentence, especially in the letters. Admittedly, I did find the flowery language to be a bit much at times, but it wasn't a negative for me in general.

TIHYLTTW clearly worked for many people, though, with many fans expressing their love for the slow burn sapphic romance. So, there's also the fact that I'm not much of a romance person (as I've probably made clear in many reflections/ramblings), and maybe I just wasn't the target audience.

Overall, I wasn't particularly frustrated with this novella, but I'm not fully understanding the adoration for it either.

Content Warning: violence, death, war, body horror, torture mentions

[tadpolesonalgae]

hey tabby! 🫀anon here, thank you so much for taking the time to reply and with such kindness at that🥹

>>Gosh, I hope you aren’t disappointed by it—just as a heads up it might be a little slow in parts but I hope you enjoy it :)

First off, Gosh, I don't think I COULD be disappointed by ANYTHING that you write, like honest to God, your work heals me. I'm just having a hard time deciding if I want to wait cbmthy out till it's complete or if I should just start it already 😭 because I know I'll just want to tear my hair off if the latest chapter ends in like a cliffhanger or something.

>>(I loved him being cold, and cruel, and kind of flirtatious 🫢😳)

💯 i mean, sameee gurl sameee 👌🏻

honestly, I loved Rhysand's character soo much throughout the 1st book even tho sjm did not exactly make him seem like a "main" character or one who's on the "good" side in it, and I was even prepared for him as a villain of sorts? like, I don't mean Amarantha or Hybern level of villain, but deffo like badguy with ulterior motives that don't really affect the world in a bad sense but would definitely resort to immoral ways to accomplish said ulterior motives kind of bad? so kinda like an anti hero ig? (sorry if I'm not making sense, it's just English isn't my first language and I didn't know how to translate it best. also, I'm also not very good with words 🥲) which might be why I absolutely loved your dark!Rhys fics, Gods were they amazing, thankyou for writing them luv🤌🏻

>>I never hated Tamlin though

oh I'm so glad somebody resonates with me on this, now I don't know if you still like/don't dislike him after all the books or if you only meant through the first book, but I personally would love to see his character explored a lot more and think there's a lot of scope but for some reason everywhere I see, there's only hate for him(mostly) and I hate that some people judge me(and a lot of other readers) solely on the basis of characters we like/dislike? needless to say, I wouldn't say I hated tamlin either, infact I still enjoy feylin fics a lot even tho I don't get to read very many of them. it's just that back when I was reading ACOMAF I just NEEDED my otp(feysand) to happen fsr lol😅 honestly I don't think I'd have minded all that much if feylin was infact endgame, I'd just have been a little sad is all lol🥲 because how many otps of mine just didn't happen?(😭the answer is in a good high tens)

>>I mean to be fair, I don’t really watch films or tv shows at all anymore, and until acotar I hadn’t read many books so I think I might have been oblivious to those tropes/cliches

I so completely understand this bit, because personally, I'm exhaustingly clueless about a lot of media that people are usually just raving on and on about and it's not usually because I don't want to watch it, but there are these attention deficit tendencies that love visiting me on a regular basis that just won't let me sit down, load a show and watch it till the end😭 I mean, I watched the 1st iron man movie 16 years after it first came out so🥲and it wasn't for a lack of trying, I've been meaning to watch it for the past 8 years or so and I just got around to it. honestly it's a miracle I read all the Acotar books to the end lol

>>Thank you so much for writing in!!

Thank YOU for actually taking out the time to read it AND reply to it, in such detail at that. i truly mean it when I say you're one of the kindest individuals I've interacted with online and you inspire me to pass that kindness on as well.

ps: this isn't exactly an ask but I just couldn't NOT reply to your message, so I'm just glad you read it, you really don't have to reply to it, I'm just happy to have sent this message on it's way.

we all love you, Tabby.

—🫀

‘First off, Gosh, I don't think I COULD be disappointed by ANYTHING that you write, like honest to God, your work heals me.’

😭🫂🫂🫂🫂 thank you so much 😭🧡💛

‘I'm just having a hard time deciding if I want to wait cbmthy out till it's complete or if I should just start it already 😭 because I know I'll just want to tear my hair off if the latest chapter ends in like a cliffhanger or something.’

Oooh gosh, I guess it’s up to you? There’s still a lot of the story left to write—I’d say we’re probably either half or two thirds of the way there in terms of storyline and events that will happen. It’s not going to be over any time soon, basically, which is both exciting and pretty scary 😭

Honestly I think the tension is in the first half, if that makes sense? (Which it probably doesn’t since you don’t know reader’s fate, but 🤷) There’s going to be a ‘half’ chapter which adds in some contexts to reader’s history, but I think after chapter 15, that should be where the tension relaxes a bit? I like to think that in *very* broad terms, chapters 1 through 15 are the ‘hurt’ ones, and 16 onward will be the ‘comfort’ ones? There are still going to be intense moments but she might not have to be on her own anymore (provided she learns to seek help when she needs it)

‘but deffo like badguy with ulterior motives that don't really affect the world in a bad sense but would definitely resort to immoral ways to accomplish said ulterior motives kind of bad?’

Yes! Like I’m happy with how Feysand turned out, but I would have been fine if Rhys stayed ‘evil’ for a bit longer ��� just a few more scenes of him being super scary and Feyre being wary of him 🤭

I feel like even as soon as he first visited her in her cell, there was a suggestion he wasn’t that bad? Especially after we learned only one person bet on her winning? Ignoring how acotar characters would write that off as a whim, from a storytelling standpoint that’s a pretty clear way of singling a character out and making them significant 🤭

‘(sorry if I'm not making sense, it's just English isn't my first language and I didn't know how to translate it best. also, I'm also not very good with words 🥲)’

Girl if you hadn’t straight up said English isn’t your first language, I would’ve had no idea 😭

‘which might be why I absolutely loved your dark!Rhys fics, Gods were they amazing, thankyou for writing them luv🤌🏻’

Thank you so much!!! Yes, I have to say there is a certain appeal to writing dark characters, but only if they have a soft spot of some kind for the reader 😭🧡💛

‘oh I'm so glad somebody resonates with me on this, now I don't know if you still like/don't dislike him after all the books or if you only meant through the first book,’

I didn’t hate him in the first book or any other after that, BUT, I did definitely get frustrated with him during the High Lords’ meeting 😭 I kind of wish we got his perspective on that, or at least more about his character? Because Feyre dismantling stability within the Spring Court was quite a brash move I think, and one she might have decided against if she wasn’t having to deal with so many other matters as well as sorting through her own emotions? Because she definitely went through a lot 😭

I guess I feel that Tamlin has a lot of anger in general, which can make him impulsive and volatile at times—like when Feyre first realised she could make a shield in his office—and I’d love to see Sarah explore that more!!

‘but I personally would love to see his character explored a lot more and think there's a lot of scope’

Yes! Exactly!! There’s so much we don’t know about his character and so much potential to spin new stories? Ugh I would love that so much 😭

‘and I hate that some people judge me(and a lot of other readers) solely on the basis of characters we like/dislike?’

I mean, I think it’s made more complicated because of immersion and how emotionally connected some people feel to characters? I was having a conversation about how we all read the same books but it’s interesting there’s such a vast range of opinions? Like some people really hate Nesta, which I can see why I suppose but I personally love her 🧡💛

I think the problem starts when people get too attached to characters that they’re unable to speak objectively about them? I’m definitely guilty of this too though 😭 one of my friends read acotar and was saying something about Az and how they didn’t like him and I straight up asked them to stop because I knew it would upset me 😭 (they did, which was kind of them ☹️)

‘it's just that back when I was reading ACOMAF I just NEEDED my otp(feysand) to happen fsr lol😅’

No I get that 🤩

The tension being set up both in the one bed at the inn scene and the Court of Nightmares moment just made the resolution really enjoyable for me! Not so much the smut part, but when Rhys finds her in the cabin and they end up having a heart to heart, and Rhys tells her more about his history? It just made me feel so happy for them so I know what you mean about wanting them to get together!

‘but there are these attention deficit tendencies that love visiting me on a regular basis that just won't let me sit down, load a show and watch it till the end’

I don’t have it to that extent, but I know that on a smaller scale, I like having music or videos playing in the background while I work? Especially while doing more domestic work like the washing up, changing my sheets, generally tidying etc. it makes the process so much easier, and I won’t get bored of the work or feel guilty for relaxing during ‘work hours’ on weekends

‘I've been meaning to watch it for the past 8 years or so and I just got around to it.’

8 YEARS?? 🫢

Well done for keeping up the determination to actually watch it! 🎉

‘Thank YOU for actually taking out the time to read it AND reply to it, in such detail at that.’

I honestly cannot explain how much I love getting to speak with you. Genuinely, it’s so wonderful being able to interact with other people who like acotar and especially getting to discuss and debate different elements of the story has got to be one of my favourite things about fandom 🫂🧡💛

‘we all love you, Tabby.’

My eyes are prickling for some reason ☹️

Thank you for writing in and taking the time to read through the fics on here ☹️🫂🧡💛