#OR MAYBE ITS NOT EVEN ANY OF THEM AND ITS SOMEONE ELSE

[cherryblossom-heart]

Responsibilities (6.5/?)

bestfriend!Nanami x Reader

Masterlist

Content warning: ANGST, Toji Fushiguro is his own warning, Kento having something with an unknown female character.

A/N: I am soooo sorry for this angst but is necesary so we understand everything that happened at the party. Don't worry, part 7 will be fully smau and its coming soon. If this is the first you see of this series please go to the previous parts to catch on. You're welcomed to send me an ask with any comments, questions, etc., you have on this. Also if I missed anyone in the taglist let me know 😊

Word count: 3.2 K

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

“Shot, shot, shot.”

A small smile spread across Kento’s lips, his eyes focused on your display. Glass after glass, you emptied all six of them in front of you with a grin on your face. The small group of people that surrounded you cheered, the echo of their acclamations competing with the bass of the tacky house party playlist Gojo had put on.

Nanami stayed by the sidelines as always, never a fan of crowds or even reunions like this one. But every rule has an exception and to Nanami’s life you were the exception for everything.

He hadn’t noticed when it had begun. Maybe it had been when you were kids, your hand covered in dirt touching his clean and polished one to drag him out to play with the other kids. Or in your teenage years, your fingers entwined with his as you dragged him to another house party he hadn’t intended to go. Perhaps it was in college when he let you sleep at his place when you had been assigned a roommate from hell and every now and then you would end up falling asleep on his shoulder as you tried to finish whatever assignments you had.

The truth was, no matter how much he tried to explain it, there wasn’t an exact logic to his actions. He hated parties but he enjoyed going with you, your carefree dancing always igniting something deep in his chest. He hated loud music, but he loved the way your eyes would close as you sang to the top of your lungs as he drove you around.

He hated immature personalities, Gojo’s antics only being tolerable for minutes. And yet he found himself amused by your quips and shenanigans you would drag him along with, his heart beating out of his chest as the mischievous grin you wore tore his defenses away.

Nanami couldn’t say when everything had begun, but he knew exactly when he first noticed it. The harsh, undeserving words that had drifted you apart for weeks had been enough of a wakeup call, the pain in his chest had left him in a panic at the moment. Once you had given him a second chance his lungs could finally take a deep breath, free from the strange constriction your apathy gave him.

He had tried getting you out of his head to the point he had downloaded a few dating apps hoping he could find someone else to occupy his thoughts. The second he had matched with someone his fingers quickly deleted the app leaving him with the realization he tried to avoid.

He was in love.

No, it was more than that. Your name was carved in his heart, his soul belonging to the set of bright eyes that laughed at his dry humor as if he was the funniest man on earth. It belonged to the smile that would always welcome him whenever he entered a room or the soft fingers that would run through his hair as his head laid on top of your lap

Nanami had never been a man to believe in soulmates, but if fate would have it and they turned out to be true he believed you were his. And not even then he could explain the extent of his emotions, the crushing weight of his love for you could simply not be measured.

Loving your best friends carried its consequences as Nanami would find out sooner than later.

Green eyes and a scar had become an instant sign of anger for him. The broad, tall, muscular man always carried his characteristic smirk, a trait that also bothered Kento to his bones. But perhaps the thing that he hated the most was the way his hands would wander along your body, fingers always finding a patch of uncovered skin where he could trace senseless figures. Your lack of a negative reaction was enough to tick him off.

He saw it the night he had ended up intoxicated and crashing at your place, the almost too insignificant glint in your eyes as you looked at the blacked haired man. Your smile was almost as bright as the one you always wore when you talked to him.

Kento hated the pit that formed in the bottom of his stomach every time you would mention him.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Beautiful, Kento’s mind recited as his eyes met yours

Your breath was raggedy, beads of sweat trailing down your cheeks. Your makeup was no longer intact, a couple of smudges trailed down your eyes, mascara specs darkening your eyes. The lipstick shade you wore was almost gone, a faint tone left behind.

“Keep your penny, it’s nothing too interesting.” Nanami’s answer came as you scooted over next to him, his right arm surrounding your frame.

“I highly doubt that. Everything about you is interesting, Nanamin.”

Kento’s breath got kicked out of his lungs. How was it possible for you to make him feel this way without even trying?

Were you aware of the effect your words, your soft touch, your sweet glances had on him?

Were you aware of his love for you?

“I believe I owe you a dance.” You extended your hand gesturing for him to take it.

“If I remember correctly, you owe me as many as I want.” Kento said, fingers entwining with yours.

You smiled, a bright beautiful smile that made his world stop.

“Well, let me start paying my debts.”

Minutes later Kento found himself in the middle of Gojo’s house, surrounded by the same crowd he had been trying to avoid as he held your body against his. You had guided him through the crowd of people, several of them stopping you along the way to congratulate you on your birthday. You would acknowledge them, perhaps exchanging a couple of words with them along the way, but your attention remained on him, your hand squeezing his every now and then to make sure he was alright.

Your hips moved to the rhythm of the music, the tune belonging to a song he hadn’t heard before, your arms were up in the air, fingers dancing along the air as if somehow you were making the most beautiful painting with them. Watching you dance was like staring at a work of art, every little movement you made was a sight to be seen.

Nanami’s body wasn’t sure how to move, his feet didn’t seem to want to follow the beat of the music, his arms felt uncomfortable as he tried to move them around. His body had begun to tense up the more he analyzed his own movements. You must’ve noticed it as well as you had stopped your movements only to get closer to him, your hand finding his again.

Cold fingeres reached to caress his face, carefully putting back in place a strand of his hair out of place. With a tenderness so foreign to him yet so familiar when it came to you, your hand cupped his cheek.

You looked at him and suddenly everything was alright.

“Relax, Kento. Just grab my hand and follow the music.”

Nanami’s left hand held onto yours while the right one fell on your waist, pushing you against his chest. If someone else would’ve seen, you two it wouldn’t have made sense to them. You two weren’t following the music, your pace not even close to what the rest of the people around were dancing to. Yet it didn’t matter, it was as if a bubble had appeared, separating you from the rest. Kento and you were following music that no one else around could hear, your head falling to his chest as the song changed.

For a moment, Nanami felt braver than ever. Maybe it was the intimacy of the moment what fueled him as he was convinced you had never looked at someone else the way you looked at him. Or maybe it was the fact that, as he pushed you closer to him, the more you seemed to nestle on his chest having caught you smelling his favorite cologne that you had gifted him.

Whatever it was, it made Kento brave enough to make you look at him. The hand that held onto yours lifted your chin, his touch leaving goose bumps on your skin. He stared into your eyes, for the first time not being shy of appreciating your beauty. Your eyes held galaxies of thoughts and emotions, and he was more than happy to explore all of them.

“Thank you for this, Ken.”

Ken.

A nickname he hated but he loved the rare times you’d say it.

He wanted you to say it forever.

“Don’t thank me, it’s the least you deserve.”

Your arms surrounded his neck.

“Be careful, Ken or I might start thinking you like me.”

Your name left his lips in a whisper, his eyes flickering from your lips to your eyes. He was surprised when he found you doing the same, your eyes lingering longer on his lips.

“Kento…” you whispered, inches away from his lips. “I— “

“Happy birthday, party girl!”

Gojo’s words rumbled across the room, bringing attention to you. Nanami’s hands fell to his side as you jumped away from him looking like a deer caught in headlights. Satoru made his way to you along with Shoko and a cake he wasn’t sure was enough for everyone in the room.

Nanami made a mental note on researching what the easiest way was to get rid of a 6’3 body.

The crowd pushed you away from him, guiding you to the table where Satoru had placed the cake. You tried talking to them, your eyes searching for his in the sea of people. When you finally found him, Nanami just gave you a small smile and a nod, gesturing you to enjoy your celebration.

You mouthed a small “I’m sorry” to him as you turned your attention to the cake.

Kento let out a sigh as he made his way back to the kitchen bar, leaning against it. A gigantic sparkling candle decorated the middle of the cake making your eyes open wide in surprise. The tune of Happy Birthday started playing, everyone around joining in the celebration making you cover your face in embarrassment.

Adorable.

“How long have you been in love with her?” A deep voice asked next to him.

Kento looked at the green-eyed man that had silently slithered his way next to him.  Fushiguro carried a solo red cup in his hand, his face still carrying that same awful smirk that irked Kento. Toji’s eyes were focused on you, but Nanami could tell his attention was on him, expecting a response.

“I– “

“Don’t try to lie, it’s written all over your face.”

Kento sighed, he was right. There was no point in lying, yet he couldn’t bring himself to say it, not to him. Not before he could tell you.

“It’s none of your business.”

Fushiguro laughed as he took another sip from his drink

“It is when you’re trying to get with my girl.”

The flames of anger began rising in Kento’s chest, a bitter taste settling in the back of his tongue.

“I believe she isn’t aware she is ‘your girl’.” He quipped. “I don’t think she wants the title, or else she wouldn’t keep insisting your relationship is casual.”

Toji’s grip tightened around his cup, the sides of it cracking slightly at the pressure. Now it was Nanami’s turn to sport that idiotic smirk.

“Well, you certainly got me there.” Fushiguro conceded. “But it has to hurt still, doesn’t it?”

“You– “

“I mean, you guys have known each other for how long? Over fifteen years and nothing has ever happened. Not a single kiss, nothing even close. I’ve known her for less than two months and I’ve already fucked her all over her apartment.”

Nanami could count with a single hand the number of times he had restored to violence; the last time he had gotten into a petty fistfight being when he was still in high school. Afterwards he would compose himself and regret his actions, embarrassed of such a public display of his anger.

None of those times Nanami had ever felt such rage, the only thing holding him back being your birthday celebration. As much as he hated the man, he would hate it even more to ruin the night for you.

“You should learn to keep your mouth shut about her private life.”

Toji snorted. “What? You’re going to play the “best friend” role again? Come in your white horse and defend her honor? Try to woo her with your gifts and hope she fucks you?”

“Better than playing the role of a man with two kids who can’t seem to find a stable relationship at his age or keep himself out of jail. Are you trying to get her to play the stepmother role as well?”

“Well, it seems that’s what gets her going, isn’t it?”

Finally, the two men faced each other, both scrutinizing each other under their gaze. Kento knew as much anger as he held inside, he could see his feelings reflected on the other man. He couldn’t blame him, any man would be lucky to get your attention, let alone a man like him.

The crowd cheering drifted away the men’s attention, your wide smile as you blew out the candles reminded Kento the reason why he was there, the flames of anger beginning to dwell as the warmth of his chest expanded through his body. He had already wasted enough time with Fushiguro.

“I don’t intend to ‘steal your girl’ Fushiguro, I cannot steal something that isn’t yours to own. She’s grown enough to know what she wants and that’s not for us to decide. Whether it is you or whoever else she is with I will always respect her choices.” Kento looked back at the man next to him, his eyes darkening with his last words. “But I will tell you that if you hurt her, I’ll make sure your stay at prison will feel like a spa visit, do I make myself clear?”

A moment went by without an answer and Kento thought the conversation was over, but as it is with a man with Toji’s personality, he always had to have the last word.

“Understood, boss.” He crashed his cup in his hands, throwing it away in the can behind the kitchen bar. “You know, I asked her once if anything had happened between you two. I mean, I had to make sure you weren’t an ex or something, especially with all the gifts and how close you guys are. You know what she said?” Kento didn’t give an answer, knowing well he was going to talk anyways. “She laughed. You should’ve seen her, it was as if I had asked the funniest question ever. I swear I saw tears in her eyes.” He chuckled. “She said there wasn’t and there never would be anything between you. That you were like the brother she didn’t have and dating you would almost feel incestuous.”

Toji’s attention went back to you, as everyone started to clear off from you as they got a slice of cake. His hand brushed his hair in place as he passed in front of Kento. “I think you have more of a shot with her.” He nodded to a girl Nanami hadn’t noticed before, her gaze turning as his hazel eyes connected with hers. Toji patted him in the shoulder before he left, not before getting his last lick. “I’d take it if I were you champ, it’s not like she’s going to care if you sleep around with other people.”

The green-eyed man made his way to you, his hand falling to your hips as he brought you in for a kiss.

For the first time in his life, Nanami felt his heart breaking. The longer your kiss lasted the more he felt a wave of unknown emotions drowning him, tearing every part of his heart that you ignited.

Fushiguro might’ve been a bastard, but he was right. There was never a time you had looked at him in any other way other than a best friend, let alone a romantic partner. He was an idiot for thinking your words meant anything, that your flirting was anything more than friendly, as it was you had always been a flirtations person. He wasn’t especial.

In an attempt of self-preservation for what remained of his heart he took a shot of vodka, hoping the burn would be enough to make him forget for a little while. He looked around the room, looking for anything that could help him, an easy way of distracting. That’s when he saw her again, the unknown girl he had never seen before.

Nanami didn’t remember how he had gotten himself in a bedroom in Gojo’s house, or when he had taken his shirt off as a girl whose name couldn’t even remember straddled him. He didn’t remember how her lips tasted or the tone of her voice as she had introduced herself to him. He couldn’t even remember the color of the girls’ eyes as she kissed him.

Her hands traveled along his body until they found his crotch making his head roll back. He allowed his hands to explore the girl’s body, slowing cupping her ass as she tried to undo his pants. This situation should’ve brought him some comfort, the sensations of every kiss, every touch should’ve been enough to help him in some capacity. Yet the only thing on his mind was you and the guilt building up in the back of his throat.

Everything about this felt wrong and he couldn’t explain why until he opened his eyes and the person in front of him wasn’t you.

Every time he kissed her, he pictured your lips, soft and delicate against his. Every time he touched her, he pictured your tender skin against his expecting the smell of your body wash to linger on his nose, instead a foreign scent invaded his nostrils. He expected to hear your voice with every pant of his name, but the unfamiliarity of the girl’s tone made his muscles tense up. This wasn’t what he wanted, he couldn’t fool himself into do it.

Then, the unthinkable happened—the very thing he had feared all along.

The light and commotion from the hallway caught his attention as he realized someone had opened the door. He pulled himself apart from the girl, moving his face to the side so he could see the uninvited guest. He only had a second to react before you shut the door with a slam, it’s echo filling the room.

He pushed her away, not caring for pleasantries as he scrambled to get his things together. He could hear the girls angry tone complaining, undoubtedly labeling him as an asshole. None of it mattered though. Not when he had seen the pain in your eyes as you saw the scene in front of you.

When he finally found his phone, he saw the plethora of messages you had sent him, all of them relating your trial until you finally found him. Before he could start typing, two new messages popped up.

Oh

I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.

Vile rose to his throat as he pleaded you to come back.

It’s ok Nanami, I’ll catch you later.

Have fun

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Taglist

@ermbehindyou @totallygyomeiswife @ash4ree @lov3vivian @namjooningera @sleepykittyenergy @silllly-jokesterr @shigarika @7haze @lizzie3d2y @jaybirdluvr73 @sweetdreams-inumimi @anuncalledbridge @troyesivanfrl @lavenderdaydream97 @n4tr3ad5 @aldebrana @erintaro @deegausserr @animemensblog @tqd4455 @jellyfishlord123

[leighsartworks216]

Suffering

Sylus x touch-averse!gn!Reader

If I had a nickel for every fic I wrote that had a white-haired, red-eyed night-dweller comforting the reader for not being able to touch them without being viscerally uncomfortable, I'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it's happened twice

Warnings: light angst, hurt/comfort, touch aversion, touch starvation, kissing, first kiss

Word Count: 1,298

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

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You trace your fingertips lightly over the angle of his cheek, the bump in his nose, the soft skin under his eyes. He's so soft, so vulnerable. His eyes are closed. His brow is relaxed. He sighs as you trace over his eyebrows.

Despite your ongoing relationship, this is the closest you've ever been to him. The most intimate touch you've ever shared. It took so much effort on your part to work yourself up to even this much, but he hasn't once faltered. If you flinch away, he lets you go. Any touch you deem him worthy of, he accepts gracefully, always doing his best to accommodate you without overwhelming you.

This overall has culminated in "hand holding", where you only link your pinkies together, and lingering near each other to the point of almost-but-not-quite touching. You know he wants to embrace you. Hold you close, bury his face in your neck and rest his hands flat on the skin of your back, legs tangled together.

Even now, there's a gap between you both. He lays on his side of the bed and you lay on yours. You touch his chin, faltering.

"I'm sorry I don't touch you the way you want me to," you whisper into the still air.

His eyes open right away. Piercing eyes that gleam in the dim light, staring into your very soul. "Don't apologize for that, kitten," he dismisses, matching the volume of your voice.

You frown, but you don't want to stop just yet. He's so soft and warm. You trace his jaw, avoiding his gaze. "Why shouldn't I? I know it's hard for you..."

"It's hard for you, too," he argues. "Why should you be the one to suffer for my sake?"

"Why do you have to suffer for mine?"

His lips quirk up slightly. You can't stop yourself from tracing the corners, where the skin bends around his lip. His eyes flicker down. You can almost feel his desire to kiss or bite your fingertips, and the effort it takes to stay still.

"For moments like this," he answers after a moment. He lets his eyes close again. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder, doesn't it?"

You pinch his cheek. He chuckles. "Yeah, but I'm not absent. Don't you want a partner who can give you all the attention you want?"

"No." He opens his eyes again, half-lidded and docile. "I want you."

You smooth your thumb over his cheek where you pinched him. In a small voice, you ask, "Are you sure?"

He hums. "More than anything."

You hesitantly meet his eyes. They're so full of warmth and care. There's no deception to be found at all. No hidden flicker of a grimace or eye roll or anything. You can't help the disbelief that runs its course through your head.

How many partners in the past have been upset with your lack of physical affection? How many called you cold and uncaring? How many forced you to accept their touch, even as it burned like acid on your skin? How many...?

Your first thought is how one day, he will be tired of this dance. He'll be overcome with the need to be touched, held, doted on, and you won't be able to provide. Maybe he'll be like that one ex, who caressed and kissed someone else right in front of you after you pulled your hand away. Or maybe he'll seek it out in secret, with someone far more beautiful and far more willing than you; any of the beautiful people that would do anything for him to even glance their way. Or maybe he'll just leave you right there, with scathing words that denounce you as being broken and unworthy of the attention he lauds onto you.

Your second thought, however, screams out. It shouts that he would never do that. Never would he hurt you on purpose. Never would he even lie to you like that. He's not like any of your exes, or past friends who drifted away when they couldn't lean against you while laughing about something stupid.

You brush your fingers lightly over his lips. His eyelids flutter slightly, soft breath exhaled from his nose, fanning against your knuckles. He's so beautiful. His lips are so soft and plush. His cupid's bow is so pronounced. The way his skin shifts under your fingers with the slightest pressure...

Your heart races. Your breath catches. You swallow nervously, forcing yourself not to look away from his eyes.

"Sy?"

"Hm?"

"Can... Can I kiss you?"

His eyes open just a bit wider, brows raising imperceptibly. He glances at your own lips. "You don't need to ask, sweetheart."

He waits for you to move, like always. Even if you backed out now, he wouldn't complain. He wouldn't even frown. He'd smile, say something sweet, and move on. That silent reassurance is the catalyst that convinces you to follow through.

You shift on the bed, leaning closer. You experimentally draw his lower lip down. They part with a slight smirk. But it's not condescending. It's excited.

So close, you can feel his breath against your face. His eyes are almost fully closed, heavily lidded as he watches your approach. At the lightest ghosting of your lips, he inhales sharply, waiting. Trying not to scare you away.

Finally, you kiss him.

It's so light at first. So delicate.

You kiss him again. He tastes like Gin Fizz and pomegranate. He tastes so sweet.

He sighs into your mouth, following the languid pace you've set. You trace your fingers along the underside of his jaw, from his chin up to his ear. You can feel the low sound of his enjoyment rumble against your fingertips.

And just like that, it becomes too much.

You don't want to pull away. You don't want to stop feeling his lips caressing over yours, sucking so gently on your lower lip to graze it with his teeth. It feels like heaven - tastes like heaven. You're loath to be without it so soon after you've just been introduced to how wonderful it can be.

But your body is screaming. It itches, stings, like poison ivy, tainting every inch of skin that's touched him. You try to draw it out, push through the aversion to have this one little moment with him, licking the seam of his lips, which he does not hesitate to part just for you.

Eventually, you just can't.

You pull away too abruptly, too quickly drawing your hand away from his soft skin and scooting back to your side of the bed. His eyes shoot open immediately, a crease forming between his brows in concern.

"I'm sorry," you sputter out. "I'm sorry- I didn't-"

"Calm down, sweetie. You don't need to apologize."

You grip at the smooth silk blanket, as though it will cool the fire rampaging down your fingers into your arms. You pull it up to your face to press it into your eyes, hiding your face as you fight your frustration. "I hate being like this, Sy! God, I can't even kiss my boyfriend for two seconds without wanting to rip my skin off!"

You want to cry. You want to scream! You want to run away, soak in a bath of boiling water, be sedated - anything! Anything that could take the feeling away and steal you from the embarrassment consuming you.

Your first kiss with Sylus - and it ends like this.

"Thank you."

You pull the blanket from your eyes to look at him. "What?"

He smiles. "Thank you," he repeats again, just as simply as the first time, like it makes all the sense in the world to be thanking you after you ripped yourself away from him.

"Why are you thanking me?"

"For suffering."

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko 

[swanimagines]

Hello! So I've been reading a lot of your works *cough* mainly Kaz and Pin *cough* and I was wondering if I could request one? If so, A6 from your dialogue prompt list with Kaz Brekker. Have a great day <3

Prompt: A6. “Ugh, people are so weird.”

A/N: I still can't look at him without remembering I actually have HUGGED that man and I get to do it once more in two months I-

RUMOUR TOLD ME

Ketterdam, in its darkness and grimness, was the last place Kaz would expect to find someone like you. You, a cheery, warm person who believed all people were good unless proven otherwise. And even working with the Dregs hadn’t wiped that attitude off you, which had always puzzled Kaz. And maybe it was the way you always saw the good in everyone was what made him develop feelings for you. Or rather, as he convinced himself, he was maybe slightly interested, but not necessarily romantically.

Either way, he treated you like he had always treated you, as another Crow, and he thought everyone else thought so too. And maybe that’s why it was so shocking when you came to the Slat one day, laughing as you slid to sit at the bar counter, one stool away from Kaz.

He stared at you for a moment, and you locked eyes with him. “I just heard the funniest thing.”

“Can’t wait to hear it,” Kaz mumbled, glancing at the barkeeper who immediately started preparing a drink for him.

“There’s a rumour circling around that Kaz Brekker has a crush,” you snickered, and Kaz immediately froze. “And the crush being me. Ugh, people are so weird.”

A short silence descended upon you, and your giggling echoed in Kaz’s mind.

He closed his eyes for a moment. Get it together, Brekker.

“And you find it funny?” Kaz grumbled, which earned a frown from you.

“Well, we are complete opposites. I mean, I guess people who sent this rumour going are probably avid romance novel readers whose favourite trope is ‘opposites attract’ but I have no idea what kind of drink they took to get themselves so drunk that they spun out this kind of theory.” You shrugged, gesturing to the barkeeper to prepare a drink for you too.

Kaz scowled. “Those kinds of rumours should be cut off before they have a chance to fly.”

You laughed. “Oh come on Kaz, it’s just some children spinning stories for their entertainment, it won’t hurt anyone.”

Kaz almost barked at you, telling you that children of Ketterdam should know better than joke with things like that before someone teaches them what it’s like to lose the fun in their life forever, but he held himself back. His mind momentarily filled with pictures of what could happen if the wrong kind of people found out about that rumour and believed it. You’d disappear and eventually come back to the Slat, carried by Matthias, with a knife in your heart, your body already cold, eyes open, beginning to rotten, your mouth opened in an eternal scream–

Kaz shook his head, forcing himself to stop thinking about that scenario. 

“Rumours are dangerous,” he said, leaning towards you slightly. “Even ridiculous ones.”

You scoffed, waving your hand. “I know, but no one is going to believe something like that.”

Kaz withdrew, taking his cane and gripping the silver crow head. He wanted to tell you you’re off duty for a while. He wanted to claim he needed help in office work, which would bind you into Slat for a few weeks. He wanted to find whoever is spreading this rumour and warn them off, threaten them. Maybe even break their legs to ensure they won’t sing about it.

But even if that would work, and Kaz knew it would, it could be a sign that the rumour actually had truth to it. It would make him look weak, even if that person would never tell about his visit.

You got the drink and downed it, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, before you looked at Kaz again. “Do you have any tasks for me? If not, Inej said she’d like to have company when she goes to run an errand but if you have something more important to do, I’ll pass on that.”

Kaz clenched his jaw, staring at his still full glass of kvas. “No.” Be careful.

You nodded and disappeared to the crowd, and Kaz told himself to not look at you walking away. And as soon as your steps faded, he downed the drink and stood up, making his way to the attic. He needed to take his mind off of… this, whatever it was.

But of course, on his way, he came across Jesper waiting by Wylan’s door, spinning his other revolver. Kaz already saw from Jesper’s grin what he was going to say, that he had also heard the rumours. “Hey, Boss. Word is you’ve got a crush on our Sunshine the Second.”

Kaz cocked an eyebrow at him. “What makes you think that?”

Jesper stopped spinning his revolver and shrugged. “Well. It’s been obvious for all of us for a while. I suspected it, so I told Nina, and she listened to your heartbeat while our star Sunshine was around, and–”

“And nothing,” Kaz barked. “Whatever you have heard or understood, is not true.”

Jesper cackled, and Kaz wanted nothing more than to stuff the handle of Jesper’s beloved revolver into his throat at that moment. But it was more because he realised everyone knew. His Crows, at least, knew.

When Jesper stopped cackling, his tone was more serious. “But hey, I understand that this… thing isn’t a good thing to be circling around. If you want some of us to go uh, find out who put the rumour to circle in the first place, just tell us.” He winked. “And of course, no telling your beloved.”

Kaz thought, staring at Jesper. He wanted to keep denying it, tell Jesper everyone are idiots, doubt Nina’s skills as a heartrender. But he knew that nothing would work anymore, everything would just confirm their every suspicion, those that were true and those that were not true.

So he nodded. “Deal with it. Quietly.”

Jesper nodded in return. “Always, boss.”

And when Kaz continued ascending the steps, he could almost hear Jesper’s grin. If there had been some doubt in Jesper’s mind, now there most definitely wasn’t.

Kaz knew that his Crows knowing except for you was miles better than the whole Ketterdam knowing. If everyone knew, or if such suspicions would rise to any extent, they would inevitably eventually go straight to rivaling gangs. And at that point, depending on how stupid they were, they could follow the rumour just in case and ambush you.

They would be stupid because if you were killed by a gang, Kaz wouldn’t rest before each one’s guts had painted every wall of their past territory, but they would also be smart because they’d take away the one thing Kaz truly cared about in this world, and it would be the second time around. Kaz wasn’t sure if he would ever recover, which would potentially make him weak in a way, maybe even suicidal with his hunger for bloodshed. He could be the most feared person in all of Kerch for a few weeks, but constantly throwing himself in situations he could get killed would eventually kill him. It could even be his goal, to die fighting and take as many of his enemies with him before that.

But after those little gossipers would be getting caught and warned off, things would maybe become better, and Kaz would be able to forget about this whole mess.

---

Requests are open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

[angelixxsweetheart]

hey ho, like ur Jinx x gamer!reader :3

if u r up to continue about this then here some ideas: - playing coop games - reader spends hours trying to defeat the boss, and when she almost succeeds... Jinx distracts her (for example, with seductive touches, as in your post) and reader dies again. Then reader punishes Jinx (i dunno spanking her ass maybe? or wuteva u decide) - Jinx getting jealous when reader romances someone in the game

OHHHHH I LOVE THIS and im glad you enjoyed the first one!!

im gonna write about the coop and jealous!jinx in this one and write a proper oneshot about the other part already got the ideas :d

Something about...(Jinx x fem gamer!reader)

part 2/? of my oneshot/scenario series

men and minors dni (wlw friendly space!)

warnings (not really warnings more like content): fluff, overthinking, competitive, jealous!jinx

playing coop games with her

- i feel like playing coop games with her could either be such a therapeutic experience or the most chaotic ever

- imagine playing mario kart together for example, shes rather competitive so she would probably bring up the meanest tricks to make you lose against her (kick you off the road somehow or throw all her items at you if she gets the chance) or she would try to distract you somehow, not with any sensual touches because I feel like she gets rather childish playing video games with you, but by tickling you somehow if she has a free hand or by pushing you over to the side with her shoulder

- but if shes on a winning streak and youre just as competitive as her, she would quickly notice how youre pouting and getting frustrated, so she would let you win ("i knew you could do it, toots" "What? Me letting you win? Never, youre just better than me")

- if you actually win against her multiple times in a row *she* would get frustrated. Those are the moments Jinx would never admit that youre better than her ("Dont get so full of yourself! I was just distracted!") better make it up with cuddles and kisses

- get ready for the most chaotic minecraft gameplays

- Jinx would have lots of fun building projects with you or on her own, the differences of your aesthetic would be obvious but she'd enjoy it anyways

- I feel like she would be unstoppable with using redstone, she would build the most impressive stuff (keep in mind she builds her own guns and stuff) and flex with it while youre probably the girlfriend whos just trying to make everything pretty (or just the same menace)

- be prepared for her to blow up your house atleast once

- probably lost her dog in a cave once and actually got sad over it (happened to me multiple times)

- but overall, Jinx really enjoys any way she can spend her time with you, especially when actually doing something with you like playing games or just watching her pretty girl

jealous!jinx about reader romancing a character in game

- one day when she got home, she immediately made her way to rest between your arms and just wanted to tune down for the rest of the day, holding her beloved

- that was the only thing in her mind, until she noticed how your character in Baldurs Gate 3 (sorry the brainrot is real currently) was romantically interacting with another character, seeing how they kissed, even if it were only pixels

- you, immediately noticing how there was a sublte change in Jinxs body language as her hands pressed into fists, asked her what was wrong

- "who's that and why is your character kissing them?" She asked, her tone carrying a hint of jealousy as she eyed the screen with an unreadable expression, her shimmer eyes lightly glowing

- "its just (random character), baby. You can romance some of the people in game", you begin to explain, your hand resting on your girlfriends waist as you let the cutscene play but keep your attention on the blue haired

- "why would you romance anyone else when you got me? Am I not enough?" Her voice grew quieter, her overthinking immediately settling in

- So you already paused the game, drop the controller and move both of your hands to Jinx, holding her against you

- "Angel, no. Its not about you, alright? Youre everything to me, dont even think about yourself like that", you try to reassure her in a soft tone "Romancing characters just brings more plot into the story, you can find out different things about them. Besides, theyre just pixels. Nothing can keep up with you" You carry on, your hands already holding the blue haireds head and gently running over the top of it

- it would take her some time, but she would believe you. Yet, Jinx would still grow a little jealous at the thought of 'you', your tav or character, being romantically involved with anyone else even if only fictional/online.

- better soothe her with a lot of kisses afterwards, but she would never delete your in game process or anything, maybe just dont romance any other characters when shes around or at all

- it would either go like that, or she would be suspicious of it, growing pouty and distancing herself from you because her overthinking got the better of her and she struggles with communicating her feelings

- finally getting to the point and finding out she's just jealous, it would heal and soothe her in some way to watch your Tav break up with the character youre romancing, proving that your heart only belongs to her

hope this was good enough!! im down for more requests lol

[mxsticmayhxm]

want a guy who gets into my head and rearranges it without me knowing. someone i really, genuinely trust, maybe someone ive known for years. when i need comfort, i go to him. he always knows the right things to say.

thats why id go to him if i ever broke up with a girl.

and im someone who likes touch— hed know that. im sitting on his bed while hes bent down, brushing my hair behind my ear. hes so sweet, it makes me emotional all over again.

“theres nothing to worry about anymore," he whispers in a low voice, soft on the ears. its easy to listen to, i cant help but lean closer. his hand rests on my cheek.

"im here, hun. you dont have to think about it." its quiet in his room, just the ticking of his alarm on his nightstand, rhythmic in its clicks. soothing to listen to paired with his voice.

"in fact, you dont have to think about anything," he says, staring into my eyes. my head tilts. "we can stay here for a while. you can just relax, i know its all stressful." i find myself nodding. "so, you dont have to think."

"i dont have to think?" he smiles encouragingly.

"thats right. no need to."

"sounds... kinda nice."

"it does, doesnt it?" his hand moves to trace small shapes and circles on my thigh, just barely grazing the surface. "not a care in the world, nothing weighing your mind down. like your mind is a clear blue sky; all the clouds just slip away."

"mmm," i nod again. see, he always knows what to say.

"and since you dont have any thoughts to focus on, all you need to focus on now is your breathing. slowing it down, keeping it deep." my breaths start to follow along, and my eyelids start to get heavy. he gives me another smile as he watches them flutter. "thats alright, you can close them. you could picture that clear blue sky. the warm sun on your skin, making your body and mind melt slowly, dripping down."

dripping down, melting, warm, it all sounded so nice. all i wanted was to follow his voice into that sun, let it... "...envelop me whole, taking away anything left weighing me down." i feel my head slowly fall toward his shoulder, landing in the crook of his neck. his arms wrap around me.

"no girls, no exes, nothing like that here. just you and me. everything else just slips from your mind like they werent even there to begin with."

like they werent even there to begin with.

~~~

i dont remember how long i stayed, but it was dark when i left. i came over the next day-- i had nothing better to do, i knew id just wallow in my room if i was given the chance. i felt like being with him would make me feel better, and next thing i knew, he was welcoming me in through the front door. he already had calm music playing in the background and warm tea set out for both of us. he sat me on the couch and passed over blankets to bundle myself up in before sitting down next to me. we talk for hours. the time just passes me by so quickly.

"i dont know why you only ever dated girls," he said, laughing a bit. i frowned.

"i... ive been a lesbian all my life. ive only ever wanted to date girls."

"well, sure, but nothings ever really lasted, has it?" im taken aback, straightening in my seat a bit.

"im sorry? does that matter?"

"relax." my back fell to the cushions again without thinking. "youve always been so much closer with guys. i dont want to assume anything, but you just get along better with men, isnt that right?” i stare at my mug, feeling his words sit in my mind for a moment. i guess he had a point.

“i guess. doesnt mean ive ever wanted to date them.”

“doesnt mean you arent compatible with them, though,” he grinned, taking a sip of his drink, before looking at you seriously. “i just want you to find the right person. there wasnt any love in your last relationship, you told me so.” i dont really know what hes talking about, but i dont know what to say, so i stay quiet. “i know you. i think a man would be able to love you much better than any girl could. arent you even the least bit curious?”

i couldnt help but admit that, after hearing him ask about it, i kind of was. i nodded.

“maybe after a bit. well see. i need some time.” he nodded and placed a comforting hand on my shoulder.

“its okay, i get it.” he turned to the window, seeing how dark it was. “its pretty late, how about you just rest on the couch? its been an emotional few days. i could make breakfast in the morning.” my head was already lolling to the side at the idea.

“that sounds good. thank you,” i look into his eyes, “really, thank you. this all mean a lot, youre always there for me.”

there was a look in his eyes that i couldnt make out.

“exactly, hun. now,” he passes a pillow, “you rest, and ill wake you in the morning.”

as he left, he changed the music playing in the background to something slower, deeper. it seemed to worm its way into my head quickly. i fell asleep before i could even think about it, feeling him pull the blankets a bit tighter around me.

~~~

i ended up staying for a few days. i didnt know what id do if i left— its not like i had a girlfriend to run to anymore. so i rested at his home, even when he left for work. he always insisted.

“i promise im fine with it, hun,” hed say. “besides, im a good friend. what are good friends for?”

there wasnt much to remember about each day; they passed like syrup or molasses, and trying to think back on what happened felt like wading through the sticky mixture. when he went to work, i listened to the radio he had in the living room— he had a cd rack full of albums by people and bands id never heard of, but each track kept me more and more peaceful. when he came home, time was fluid. it didnt exist.

i was close with him before my breakup, and even closer now. ive found weve gotten closer physically as well, like somethings changed in our friendship. i hug him more, we half cuddle on the couch. ive even started holding his hand every so often. the touch, the connection between us just centers me so well.

his words, too. theyre soft. they find their way into my head and sink into my being somehow. i dont know what hed do without me.

were having a meal in the kitchen. i finished but just wanted to sit with him longer.

“gosh, how long has it been since your breakup?” he asks, bringing a fork to his lips.

i stop for a moment. i try to think. my breakup was…

i dont know. i dont know when my breakup was or how long ago. i dont even know what day or month it is.

“ah, doesnt matter,” he laughs. and suddenly, it didnt matter.

“have you thought more about it all? dating guys?” i played with my hands. i had. a lot.

and it was with him.

i dont know what it was. maybe it was the proximity, or the kindness, or the looks, or an amalgamation of all of it. but when i sat around all day, the only thing on my mind was him.

the warmth he brought when he sat next to me in our deep conversations at night. the soft touches. the smiles he would give me. just thinking about him now had me staring at his hands as he used his utensils. large hands, hands id like to hold, hands that could hold me tight, hands to undress me and suck on and use to—

“well, have you?” he says, breaking me out of my daydreaming.

“uhm. a little bit.”

“a little bit? no, youve been talking about it a lot more recently, isnt that right?”

i shook my head for a moment, trying handle the fuzzy sensation that flooded my brain. it was hard to remember what i was talking about now.

“i know i go on and on about dating guys now, but… i just want to wait for the right one to come along.”

“hmm,” he hums, nodding thoughtfully. “im sure youll find him soon. what kind of guy are you looking for?”

“i dont know, someone who really cares for my needs. when i dated women, they never really understood what i wanted. a man would know best about what i need in a relationship.”

his eyes gleamed at what i had said. i dont know what cued it, though. i was just being honest.

“tell me more.”

“dating men would just be much simpler for me. i cant love a woman, but i can serve a man.”

something didnt seem right, but the thought fell away into the pervasive fuzziness. his eyes looked so beautiful right now, all i could do was stare into them.

“thats right, you can serve a man. did you ever love women to begin with?”

i think back on all my ex girlfriends. i think of our intimacy, our dates, and i feel nothing. i think of what i could have, and all i feel is love for him.

“no. no, i never loved women. i could never be attracted to one. i…” my words drifted off. i was supposed to say something there. what was i supposed to say?

“youre straight, arent you, love?”

oh. that felt different. straight. i found myself starting to grin. straight, i… i was straight.

“im straight.”

“say it again for me.”

“im straight.”

“again.”

“im straight.”

“good,” he says, “good girl.”

my brain melts from my head. theres not much to think of past that.

[greywardenmonkey]

so its just me who remembers the marketing for this game completely contradicting its actual narrative. "it takes the wrong sort to make things right" and yet we are ACTUALLY looking for the Right sort. hm.

varric chooses rook because he witnesses One(1) act of altruism and assumes this guy is naturally good and will be the perfect leader to help stop his super powerful mage friend? not the inquisitor who now has an abundance of free time to dedicate to fixing the mess that started with them instead of just saying "whelp. i tried. someone else take over now"? varric being misguided in his choice of hero is possible with hawke(who they have desperately tried to recreate) but its unrealistic for rook?

solas sends his agents away(which he wouldnt do if he did not care for them one would assume, based on solas' character) and then in the AMA epler says solas did not care about his followers. creative director says that. he also says elves go bald from stress and elgarnan wears a wig. we're all listening to a story written by this guy? you gotta be joking.

rook never gets the opportunity to be the type of hero who maybe isnt always nice? i personally like my dragon age protags to be morally grey. even antagonistic sometimes. rook is no protagonist of mine. take away the dialogue wheels and nothing about the game would change in any meaningful way.

i was dissatisfied with how this story was handled. plain and simple. none of the excuses provided in game were enough for me. the characters were boring. the factions were boring. the only somewhat fun endings are the "bad" ones where you bind solas to the fade or get bound with him, and the game explicitly tells you you didnt play the game right if you get those endings. this game sucked, dude. im a dissatisfied customer.

"we need a team solas doesnt know about to defeat him" are you thick. solas is quite literally the most powerful mage on the planet right now with agents in every corner of thedas you think he doesnt know everything about everybody. using the inquisitor would have been the only right move because it would have been full scale emotional warfare

[letteredlettered]

Hello!! I've read all your hp works and I wanted to say that I love them all and they've made me feel feelings. The way you write drarry and just hp in general is very close to my heart.

That being said, there is a question I wanted to ask you as a writer. What does plagiarism mean and what does it constitute? Like... I hear that term a lot but just reading a definition is not making it clear to me. As far as I understand, copying someone's work, word by word is plagiarism. Does it also count as one if I copy someone's idea but just modify it a bit. Carry on is such a work and it's resemblance to hp and main pairs similarity to drarry are well known. Even hp itself has a evident similarity to Neil Gaiman's ‘The books of magic’ , at least as far as the titular character goes. It was also said that maybe jk stole the idea from there but Neil later said that it wasn't the case. So I'm guessing that's not plagiarism.

Let's take another example, I love you fic away childish things .. so if I wrote a fic with the same idea.. is that plagiarism? Or if I copy the plot? What if I liked a particular scene very much.. or a sentence very much and I used it as a base for a new fic.. or used that scene/sentence itself but in a different context is that plagiarism? I'm sure a lot of people have read Running On Air by eleventy7 in the drarry fandom. So if I use the sentence “Going away is easy, coming home is hard.” in a fic I write (maybe in another fandom or the same) does that count as plagiarism? Ofc I'm assuming that other people will know which scene or sentence I'm using on account of said fic being a famous work (in this case, fandom). But there could be a case where the source is not well known. What if I took something from a particular folktale of a community or country? Would that count as plagiarism? Jk Rowling herself has said that she used a lot of info while writing hp from various stories, folktales, religious books, lore and some good old tropes of said genre and pure imagination. Most of it was done unconsciously while writing. I guess it doesn't count as plagiarism if the place where you're copying from doesn't have a particular author (for eg folktales etc). Like.. God is not gonna sue me if I wrote things similar to some religious text. His followers on the other hand... yeah best not go there haha. But yeah.. what if I used different things from various sources, like.. just picking my way across it all and using them to write a story, just mish mashing things together like a collage and making something out of it. Will that be plagiarism? Or is that just being inspired by other art? On the other hand there is a saying that every art has a genesis and nothing is original. Every work is inspired by some other work be it art, music, writing or whatever. So where does one draw a line between inspiration and plagiarism?

I know it's a very long ask and I'm using a lot of scenarios but I wanted to cover everything that might come under the word 'Plagiarism'. What are your thoughts on it? What is included in plagiarism? Specifically, in writing.

If you made it this far thank you for reading where i essentially just ramble lol. I would like to know your answer and if you have any reading material on it please point me towards them. Thank you and I hope you're doing well xoxo

Plagiarism is copying word for word. It's one kind of stealing.

Copyright infringement is also a kind of stealing. That's a legal term about copyrighted material, but laws from some countries around this issue can maybe help clarify what is socially considered stealing and what is considered fair use. "Fair use" is also a legal term (at least, in the US); it refers to reasons you can use a copyrighted work without permission. I think that what many people socially consider "not stealing," even though its using someone else's ideas, falls under fair use.

Fanfic generally falls under fair use. The Organization for Transformative Works (OTW)--which is the organization behind AO3--argues that while fanfic uses things like characters and settings from copyrighted work, fic falls under fair use because it is creative and transformative.

The transformative part is important. If you copied Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone word for word and put it on AO3, that would be plagiarism. It's not transformed in any way. But if you write a story in which Harry and Draco fall in love, you're significantly transforming the story in a way that progresses the world of literature.

Other attributes of fair use (beyond whether the work is transformative) include whether the work is done for profit, whether the market for the original copyrighted work will be impacted negatively by the derivative work, and how substantially the derivative work uses the original copyrighted work. Fanfic uses the original copyrighted work quite substantially in many cases, but if it doesn't impact the market for the original copyrighted work and isn't done for profit, that shouldn't disqualify it from fair use. This is why it's extremely important never to ask for money for a fanfic, and why any author doing that should be reported to the hosting site.

Now, you asked about the Harry Potter series. While JKR may have gotten ideas about kids attending magical schools from other books, HP differs significantly enough that whenever she was sued for copyright infringement, she won her cases. Some might call JKR's books a ripoff of other books like it, but most agree that while not terribly original, these books do not count as stealing. (I would add, though, that just because someone wins a case doesn't mean it's not stealing. Disney steal shit all the time but wins cases because they own everything.)

You also asked about Carry On. I would say about that series, too, that it is substantially different enough from other books, that it doesn't count as stealing. There are just lots of books about kids secretly going to magic school, as it turns out. But I would add that even if there were more similarities to HP than there are in Carry On, Carry On could not be considered theft, because it is transformative.

Carry On, like Lev Grossman's The Magicians, is in a conversation with books like Harry Potter, books about magical schools and books with young, Chosen One protagonists. Carry On is not a fanfic; the characters are not the same; the set-up is not the same; the plot is not the same. But it is a book that asks questions about Harry Potter, and other books like Harry Potter. It's asking, what does it mean to be the Chosen One? Isn't there something sinister about a supportive mentor figure who pushes young people into war? Suzanne Collins's The Hunger Games is also in a conversation with books that have young Chosen Ones, and it asks the same questions. Carry On further asks, isn't there a strange chemistry between the archetypal Golden Boy protagonist and the archetypal schoolmate antagonist? That's something tons of high school romance stories ask, and tons of HP fics, but it wasn't something that hadn't yet been done in a magical school Chosen One series--not with homosexuality--which also makes it pretty damn transformative.

You asked about using a line from Running on Air in a different work. This is plagiarism, because it's the exact words. Using that sentence in any work would be plagiarism. Using the exact sentence that someone else wrote, not matter how well known the work, is plagiarism. You likely won't be sued, but it's still stealing in most cases.

Now, it could be acceptable to use a phrase from the sentence to reference Running on Air. You'll see this in a lot of older literature. You'll see a little phrase in quotes that isn't credited, but your Penguin footnote will tell you they were referencing another author there. That was common because everyone was expected to have read the same body of work in certain cultures.

In fandom, lots of people will have read the same fics, so it could be a nod to another author to quote their work in a fic of your own. That's generally not the culture, mostly because the reason authors would do that had more to do with literary ideas that story telling, and most fic has a focus on storytelling. And, because fandom is a non-professional community where it's easy to reach out directly to the authors, if you do want to quote something by a different author, the author should be asked--again, because that's the culture.

Some material is so often quoted that it's idiomatic. If you say "I put away childish things" in a work, that may be from the Bible, but most people know where it's from, and even if they don't, it's part of our language now. Same would be true if I put in a work "Parting is such sweet sorrow," which is from Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. Few would call it stealing if I didn't credit such sentences, but if you're not sure whether it's idiomatic, a place where you're using the exact words should be credited with a footnote or citation.

You asked about using a line from a folk tale. As you say, folk tales often don't have known authors--but more importantly for your question, they usually don't have definitive versions. There are literally thousands of versions of Cinderella. If you used an exact sentence the Brothers Grimm used in their version of Cinderella, that would be plagiarism. Any exact language from an extant version of the story would be the same way.

A lot of what I'm saying is about how law works (particularly in the US), which deals with what might be socially acceptable in terms of whether something is stealing or not. But many cultures do have oral traditions that have a specific way a story is told. I would argue that's still a specific version, and if you're quoting the exact language, it's still stealing. But lots and lots of cultures have stories they like to tell but always tell it a little different, in which case you might be stealing ideas but not plagiarizing. And some things that are said enough, such as "Once upon a time" and "And they lived happily ever after" are idiomatic and not consider plagiarism.

But idioms touch on an interesting topic related to idea theft, which is how likely it is that you came up with something on your own, or that anyone could without the original text. The line you quoted from Running on Air is unique, but the idea that coming home is hard is commonly accepted. Indeed, there is an idiom that states "You can't go home again," which refers to the difficulty of coming home again.

Therefore, if someone said, "Going home is difficult," it might be a paraphrase of the sentence from Running on Air, but it might also be a paraphrase of the idiom, and it would be a little silly to call that plagiarism. Paraphrasing can be plagiarism, but it depends on a) how closely the paraphrase hews to the original, b) how much is paraphrased (as soon as you're paraphrasing more than a line, it really starts to be plagiarism), and c) whether someone could reasonably come up with it themselves.

So, if someone said, "Leaving home isn't difficult, but going home again is," that paraphrase is a lot more directly related to the original sentence and could be considered plagiarism. However, in a story without any other Running on Air references or similarities, I would assume an author came up with that based on the idiom and would never even dream of accusing them of plagiarism. But if the next two sentences were also similar to lines from Running on Air, I'd get suspicious.

In fact, the original line you quoted is close enough to the idiom that if I read it in a different story, I might assume that the author hadn't remembered that that line was from Running on Air. This has definitely happened to me--I used a line or phrase that I thought was mine, but I actually got it from somewhere else. If you're doing it consciously, you shouldn't. With paraphrasing, I think it's a little dicier; some would say if you're consciously paraphrasing anything it's a problem, but if you know you read that line from Running on Air but also know you've thought about that idiom about coming home a lot, it might be fine to say something sort of similar, as long as it's not the same and as long as you're not taking other things.

The same is true with ideas. You asked about Away Childish Things. If you read that fic and decided to write a fic about Harry de-aging, you might have been inspired by me, but it isn't stealing because de-aging is a common trope in fandom. You could've come up with it yourself or by reading any number of things. You asked about the plot; if you wrote a story in which Harry and Draco got to know each other by identifying illegal potions and then while doing some of that work together, Harry got de-aged and later Draco got de-aged, I would still say that this is a plot you could have thought of yourself. If you wrote a story in which everyone was infected by a potion that was like Imperius, meaning Harry only trusted Draco to help him, and Harry de-aged, and then to cure him Harry re-aged and then Draco de-aged, and could only re-age one year at a time, dealing with all of their Hogwarts years again and revealing Draco's history with his mentally ill mother and Muggle dating, I would say...okay, that's hewing pretty closely to Away Childish Things and feels a bit like you took something from me.

If you called a shop in your fic Tailored Tinctures, that's very specific, and I would say you took something from me. If you had an indicator solution in which you had to dip your thumb and your thumb turned cerulean to indicate a positive, I would say you took something from me. For these kinds of questions, it has to do with the amount you took but also the specificity of it.

As I mentioned, fandom has its own culture. Usually if you get an idea from someone else it's a very good idea to drop that author a line and say, "Hey, I got inspired, do you mind if I do?" But I don't do that when there are a hundred fics that all have the same idea, because by then it's starting to be fanon, and using fanon is not considered in this culture to be stealing.

Different people have different ideas about this, but I do feel that I'm pretty close to the general thought on this. Some people will say that any time you are inspired by anything you must credit, or you must ask, or you must never use it to begin with. But most of us are inspired by things all the time, and the only times we claim we aren't are the times when we really can't remember what the original inspiration was, or when things are so jumbled that ten different things inspired one idea. In those cases it isn't true that we aren't using other works, only that we can't identify them.

[dollieseo]

02. PAINT IT BLACK ⸻ JANUARY 4TH, 2018

now playing. paint it black (epic trailer version) by hidden citizens

chapter summary. you once again find yourself unsettled by winter’s presence when she shows up to your penthouse. as the night goes on, the tension between to two of you weakens and the silence becomes a little less uncomfortable. and you’re unsure of what this shift means for your apprehensive relationship.

chapter warnings. none

word count. 2.4k

masterlist.

you really don’t anticipate seeing winter again. her words—“you can’t just stay on the sidelines in a world that your father created,” have echoed in your mind for weeks now, surfacing during your sleepless nights. you don’t really know what to make of it. you don’t really know what to make of her.

your father gave you your own apartment for new years. not just any apartment—a penthouse. just one building away from his own. you couldn’t really complain. it was spacious, brand-new. and far enough away from him. you never could stand being in the same room as him. he knew it, of course. for once, you're grateful for his intuition.

the day you moved in, you started counting the days. how long could you go without seeing him? so far, you’re four and a half days in. he’s called you a few times, but you never pick up. you send a quick text instead: busy with homework. it’s a complete lie, but what’s he gonna do about it? you’re not scared of him. you aren’t a victim.

you sit at your kitchen island, watching the rain fall softly outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. a warm mug of cocoa sits in front of you, barely touched. though your hand sits wrapped around the mug to feel its warmth. you let the quiet wrap around you, imagining you’re in some cheesy hallmark movie—something you saw once on tv. you let yourself pretend this moment is yours alone, untouched by the outside world. you can’t remember the last time you felt this peaceful.

then, a knock at the door.

you freeze, the moment is over. who the hell could it be? the only person who knows you live here is your father, and he hasn’t contacted you today. the knocks come again, more forceful now. a third set, followed by a voice.

“i know you’re in there, princess. open up.”

your nerves wash away as quickly as they appeared, replaced by a sudden, almost annoyed recognition.

you exhale, groaning in frustration before you stand. you’d know that voice anywhere—sharp, confident, the sort of voice that makes anyone look twice. you make your way to the door, steps deliberate and soft, reminding yourself of something you know all too well: you’re the daughter of a mob boss. that kind of life doesn’t leave you unmarked, doesn’t let you forget you’re a target.

the knocking persists, louder this time.

you reach the door, and sure enough, there she is. winter—kim minjeong, arms crossed, leaning against the frame like she’s been waiting for hours.

“you know, if i didn’t recognize your voice, i’d think you were here to kill me,” you say dryly, mirroring her posture, arms crossed.

“maybe i am,” she grins.

you suppress a laugh, knowing she’d never lay a finger on you. not unless your father said so, and even then, she’d probably just kill someone else just for you—under your orders.

“what do you want?” you ask, annoyance creeping into your voice.

“boss asked me to check on you,” she says, her tone light but with that teasing edge you can never quite ignore. “seems like daddy’s worried about you.”

you raise an eyebrow, studying her with a mix of disbelief and amusement. “and it seems like you listen to everything daddy says, huh?” you cock your head to the side while pouting, watching her expression drop for a split second.

winter’s eyes narrow. for a moment, you wonder if she might actually kill you after all, but the thought fades almost as quickly as it came.

you don’t fear her, not the way most people do. being his daughter has its perks. confidence is one of them. you’re protected as much as you’re a target. it’s also a curse. because it means you can’t really trust anyone, not even someone like minjeong.

you drop the act, your face hardening into its usual deadpan. “well, you’ve checked on me, and i’m fine. you can go now.” you reach for the door, intending to shut it.

but she stops you. physically.

her hand wedges between the door and its frame, and for a moment, you struggle to close it, her strength easily overpowering yours.

“wait, but it’s raining!” she protests. “you’re just gonna leave me out here?”

you shrug indifferently, gaze flicking over to the downpour outside your window. “it’s been raining for three hours. you got here in the rain; you can leave in the rain.”

winter’s eyes narrow, and for a split second, you see something like… hurt flicker in her expression. but you quickly brush it off.

is it possible to betray someone you’ve barely spoken to twice? because if it is, that’s exactly what winter feels right now. betrayed by your coldness, even though she’s displayed worse. but she hides it well, covering it with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

you’re about to turn away and slam the door in her face when something pulls at you. a sudden change in heart. it’s just for tonight, she can leave in the morning and you’ll go back to being out of each others way.

you roll your eyes, sighing heavily, and step aside, allowing her to enter. she practically skips inside like she’s just been invited to a party. you don’t watch as she begins to roam your space, instead turning back to the window, resuming your moment of peace over the rain.

you’re confused, for the most part. you didn’t know what she thought of you the first time you two met and now she wants to stay at your house? you knew why she came but her job was done. what the hell does she want now?

“nice place,” winter’s voice breaks through your thoughts, her tone light but almost… judgmental. “your decorations are nice.”

your decorations are minimal. the beauty of the space is dominated by the paint job: a bold black paired with soft baby pink. your father chose the colors, but you don’t want to change them. the subtle accents you’ve added enhance the color scheme, giving the apartment a cohesive, polished feel without overwhelming it. every piece feels intentional, fitting effortlessly into the overall aesthetic, as if the room itself was designed to reflect the balance between the two of you.

you glance over at her, blinking. “um, thanks?” it comes out more like a question, but she only smiles wider. her eyes remain locked on your face, making you feel uneasy.

you turn back to the window, hoping she’ll leave you alone for a while, but there’s something unsettling about her gaze. like she’s studying you. trying to figure you out, to peel back the layers and see what’s hidden underneath. the same way she did when you first met. winter observes. you aren’t sure if its more than she talks.

she surveys the space like she’s taking notes. her gaze lingers a little too long on the details, as if she’s trying to understand what this room says about you. you feel like you’re being examined under a microscope.

"your decorations..." winter continues, her voice lower now, almost thoughtful. “it’s like the room itself was designed to reflect both your style and his.”

you don’t know what to make of that. is she complimenting or criticizing? you almost feel exposed, as if she’s seen right through the carefully curated walls you’ve put up. you glance at her again, your lips pressing into a thin line. "thanks, i guess."

her smile widens, but it’s not reassuring. something in her eyes stays sharp, focused. she’s watching you—too closely.

you can’t shake the feeling that she’s seeing more than just the apartment, that she’s not looking at the room at all. she’s reading you. not just the surface, but something deeper. something you’re not ready to reveal.

you pull your gaze away from her, pretending the rain outside is suddenly more interesting. but winter’s not done yet. she crosses the room, each step measured, deliberate. the sound of her footsteps grows louder, closer, and you’re painfully aware of how quiet everything has become. it’s just the two of you now.

she stops beside you, standing just a little too close. you feel the heat of her body radiating through the cool air, and it makes you shiver with discomfort.

"you know," she begins, her voice lower now, almost conspiratorial, "you’re not like i thought you'd be."

what’s that supposed to mean?

you don’t react right away. you watch her faint reflection through the window, raising an eyebrow, keeping your expression neutral. "and how did you think i’d be?"

winter shrugs casually, but there’s a flicker of something in her eyes. curiosity. maybe even a little fascination. "i don’t know. more... like him, i guess.” you wish she’d elaborate, but she doesn’t. “but you’re not. you’re not like your father."

that statement catches you off guard. you didn’t expect her to say anything like that. It’s not just a casual comment—it feels like she’s touching on something you’ve spent so long trying to avoid. you’re not like him, but why is she the first one to tell you that? you glance at winter sharply, unsure if you should feel insulted or intrigued.

"is that a good thing or a bad thing to you?" you ask, your voice quieter now, almost to yourself.

winter looks at you for a long moment, her gaze softening. “it doesn’t matter to me.” she decides. the air between you two shifts, the sharp tension fading just a little bit.

you’re still not sure what she’s looking for. why she’s still standing there, so close, her presence almost consuming.

there’s an odd, uncomfortable quiet that settles over the room as you both stand there—unsure, yet oddly connected in a way that feels too real. the rain taps against the windows like a constant reminder that things are always changing, always shifting.

and just like the rain, you have the feeling that winter isn’t going to go away so easily.

winter doesn't seem to have any intention of leaving, though she’s no longer as brash or playful as she was when she first arrived. her posture has softened and her demeanor has shifted, like she’s no longer performing for you.

you try to focus on the rain again, watching the way the drops race down the glass, as if that will give you some clarity. but your mind is still tangled in the mess of thoughts she’s stirred up. winter, sitting there so casually, like she’s always belonged in this space—like she has a right to be here, like she’s not just another part of your father’s world.

you glance at her, just out of the corner of your eye. she’s now stretched out on your couch, her jacket and boots off, one leg slung over the side, her back against the cushions. there’s an odd vulnerability in her stillness. you weren’t expecting that. you thought she’d be alert, sharp, you know, sleep with one eye open. but her breathing has slowed, her expression softening, her eyes fluttering closed.

it feels strange to watch her like this—like you aren’t supposed to. you don’t see the confident, sarcastic, sharp-tongued winter you’ve come to know in two times you’ve met, but someone else entirely. someone who needs rest, like everyone else. you can’t help but stare for a moment, fascinated by how different she looks when she isn’t on edge.

you glance down at your phone to check the time. it’s nearly midnight. you never intended to spend this much time in her presence. yet here she is, asleep in your penthouse, curled up like she doesn’t have a care in the world.

you catch a flash of something in the reflection of the window: winter’s hand loosely gripping the hem of her shirt as she sleeps, a tiny detail that feels more intimate than anything you’ve seen from her before. there’s something almost... endearing about the way she lets herself go, even just for a moment. and in your presence, of all people.

your eyes flicker back to her face. her lips are parted slightly as she exhales, her chest rising and falling with a rhythmic ease. for the first time, you see her as someone who isn’t just a weapon, someone who doesn’t belong solely to your father’s world. right now, she’s just a sixteen year old girl trying to sleep through the noise of the world. just as you try to do everyday.

you don’t mean to, but your thoughts drift. you’ve been so consumed by this cold shell you've built around yourself, trying to escape what you were born into, forced into, and yet here winter is, a reminder that you’re not the only one playing a part.

her role is just as defined as yours—just as entangled with power and bloodlines. maybe that’s why she acts as if she’s untouchable, so removed from the rest of the world. you can almost feel the layers of tension in her even as she sleeps. you can imagine what’s beneath the surface—the same mess of expectations, manipulation, and loss. probably even more than that. she’s not immune to it, either.

you snap out of your daze and stand, careful not to disturb her, moving towards the kitchen to make yourself another cup of cocoa. she’s not going anywhere tonight. it’s not like she’s a threat, and it’s not like you have anything better to do. for the first time with winter, the silence is almost comforting now.

her soft breathing fills the space as you pour the steaming milk into the mug. the cocoa powder stirs easily into the liquid, the scent of chocolate curling up into the air, filling the kitchen with a warmth that contrasts with the coldness outside. you take a sip, watching winter from the corner of your eye, still oblivious in her peaceful slumber.

you sit back down at the island, keeping your distance. there's something softer in the atmosphere. something unspoken that hangs between you two, like the room itself is trying to bridge the gap.

the minutes stretch on, and the longer you watch winter asleep, the more you feel like you're seeing her for who she really is. a person who can get lost in a moment, just like anyone else, despite the chaos that always surrounds her.

you wonder how long she’ll stay here, if she'll leave in the morning without saying goodbye, or if she’ll stay longer, pushing against the walls you’ve built up. you wonder if you’ll ever let her leave at all.

but for now, you let her rest. you let her sleep in the warmth of your home, and you keep the silence between you comfortable, for the moment.

[hawkins-batman]

hey dude um so i saw the post you made replying to someone else's post about noah and, while i do agree with you, i don't think that you or any of the anons should be specifically finding noah antis. that just kind of starts discourse and people are allowed to express their opinions, even if they differ from yours.

i know this happened to one of my good friends recently (noihavenosanitythanksforasking) and they were kind of shook up from what happened. i'm glad that you try to educate people, and it also comes across as a bit more personal and rude than someone who just wants to help.

i'm very sorry if any of this has come across as rude, i promise that is not my intention and i'm just trying to show that those people are also just people and its not their fault that they don't have all the information. i dont know if "kindness is the key" sounds cheesy, but it is very true.

blocking them and not interacting is probably the best thing to do instead of finding them just to disagree and having anons find posts and send them to you. if you or anyone else doesn't like what someone else posts, it's best just to scroll (and even block! that is definitely an option and i see you're doing that already so good job 👍)

sorry about this ramble and when you reply to this, if you do, i just want you to know that this was sent with the best intentions and also this is not about noah, anything that happened with him, or other people's views on it. this is just about how you could deal with people with differing views from you a bit better than what you have done in the past.

kisses kisses and byler endgame, love, anon

You weren’t rude — so don’t worry! However, I am going to push back (kindly - since you were kind).

First, I suppose I should say that I don’t seek these people out. Most of them I find during my daily scrolls of socials. Other times, mutuals will link me to them, and sometimes people will send them via Ask. But I don’t go looking for “Noah antis.”

Second, and more importantly, I want you to do a hypothetical with me. You saw someone getting viciously bullied. Not a friend, but nevertheless, other people were threatening them, calling them slurs, and harassing their family. They were also spreading lies to continue to inflame others to bully them.

With me so far? You’d want to stick up for them, right? Because there’s really no pretext before which any of that behavior is okay, right?

Now imagine, a year in to this relentless bullying campaign, you STILL see people spreading the lies, getting others inflamed, reigniting the bullying again and again. Imagine you KNOW that this endless bombardment has sent them to therapy and driven them from any place that gives them joy.

Would you just ignore that? Would you turn a blind eye? Would you chalk that up to just a “different opinion”?

I hope not. Because I won’t.

I’m sorry your friend was shaken up. But I’m one person. Noah gets the treatment I just described to you from HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS of people. There are hate accounts with 40K+ followers solely dedicated to posting things like this bit of homophobia:

Look at the likes on that.

And that’s one post. That doesn’t even show the ones wanting to kill him. Or do viler things.

Or how about these cheering for his suicide (EDIT —> see the bottom of the post)

He can’t just log off and ignore them or block theee people either because they send it to his home. His family. They track him in public and send his location to big accounts that will tweet it out hoping someone will hurt him.

So, I mean this with sincerity: Good. I’m glad your friend was shaken up. I hope to shake up more people before I’m done. Maybe they’ll think twice before spreading lies that inflame people to post shit like that 👆🏻

That’s not a difference of opinion. I don’t mind if people simply don’t like Noah. But be honest. Do you post about people you don’t like? No. This is not simply disliking Noah. It’s contributing to homophobia and antisemitism and it’s wrong.

And until people get their senses back, I carry on.

[6azia]

Faking for real?| Chuuya x Dazai

—summary. It's only a mission, so why was Chuuya feeling that way to Dazai

—content warning. only light angst

—word count. 1,2k

—azia‘s notes. @pill0wc4se I finally finished it and I will continue watching bsd after finishing arcane <3

The dim room buzzed with the tension of an unasked question, but the answer was already on Kunikida’s clipboard.

“The two of you will need to attend the Black Sun Gala as a couple.”

Chuuya froze mid-eye-roll, turning toward the stern-faced detective. “What?”

Kunikida adjusted his glasses. “The syndicate hosting the gala values appearances of commitment in its ranks. They’ll only let in established pairs. You and Dazai are the most believable option.”

Dazai, who had been lounging in his chair with his usual lack of enthusiasm, suddenly perked up. A mischievous smile spread across his face as he leaned toward Chuuya. “Hear that, Chuuya? We’re finally making it official.”

“Shut up, you idiot!” Chuuya barked, his hands already curling into fists. “Why can’t someone else do it? I don’t even like him, let alone—”

“You’re the only ones with enough chemistry to sell this,” Kunikida interrupted. “Chemistry?” Chuuya snapped.

Dazai smirked. “You hear that, darling? We’re practically meant to be.”

“I swear to God, Dazai—”

“Enough,” Kunikida barked. “The gala is in two days. Practice your... dynamic. That’s an order.”

Chuuya groaned, dragging his hand down his face. This mission was going to kill him.

—

The rehearsal began in Chuuya’s apartment, a space he quickly regretted allowing Dazai into.

“Alright, listen up,” Chuuya said, pacing the room like a commander preparing for battle. “We’ll keep it simple: hold hands, maybe a kiss on the cheek if we have to. None of your over-the-top, attention-grabbing crap.”

Dazai, sprawled on the couch like he owned the place, propped his chin on his hand. “Oh, Chuuya, where’s the passion? The romance? If we’re going to do this, we need to make it convincing.” Chuuya glared at him. “Convincing? You couldn’t convince a blind man you’re serious about anything.”

“Harsh,” Dazai said with a pout. “But I’ll have you know, I’m an excellent actor. Want a demonstration?”

“Not really.”

Too late. Dazai stood and closed the distance between them in a single, fluid motion. He took Chuuya’s hand in his and gazed into his eyes with a level of sincerity that caught Chuuya off guard.

“My dearest Chuuya,” Dazai said, his voice low and smooth, “from the moment I saw you, I knew I couldn’t live without you.” Chuuya’s face turned red, and he yanked his hand away. “Cut it out, idiot!”

Dazai grinned. “See? You’re already blushing. I’m just that good.” Chuuya turned away, muttering under his breath. Idiot. It’s not because of you...

—

The Black Sun Gala was a picture of opulence: glittering chandeliers, golden drapes, and a sea of well-dressed criminals.

Chuuya hated every second of it. Not because of the danger, but because of the way Dazai’s arm rested around his waist, pulling him closer with every passing minute.

“Relax, love,” Dazai murmured in his ear, his breath warm against Chuuya’s skin. “You’re supposed to look like you enjoy this.”  

Chuuya gritted his teeth, forcing a tight smile. “Don’t push your luck.”

They moved through the crowd, playing their roles perfectly. Dazai was charming, effortlessly mingling with the guests, while Chuuya stayed close, his sharp eyes scanning for any signs of trouble.

At one point, a woman approached them, her gaze flicking between the two. “You two make quite the pair,” she said with a sly smile.

Dazai tightened his hold on Chuuya, pulling him even closer. “Oh, we do, don’t we? He’s my everything.” Chuuya’s face burned. “Tch. Don’t flatter yourself,” he muttered, though he didn’t push Dazai away. 

After some pleasantries they both went back. 

—

Back in their shared hotel room after the event, Chuuya sat by the window, a glass of wine in hand. “You were quieter than usual tonight,” Dazai said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, well, maybe I’m just tired of playing pretend,” Chuuya replied, staring out at the city lights.

Dazai chuckled, flopping onto the bed. “Playing pretend is the easy part. It’s when the lines blur that it gets tricky.”

Chuuya glanced at him, his chest tightening. Do you even realize what you’re saying?

He turned back to the window, his grip on the glass tightening. Damn it, Dazai. When did I start... feeling this way? And why does it have to be you?

“Don’t overthink it, Chuuya,” Dazai said, as if sensing his turmoil. “We’re almost done here.”

“Yeah,” Chuuya muttered. “Almost.” With one big gulp he downed his glass.

—

The next and  final night of the mission brought a new level of tension. They were supposed to blend in, but Chuuya was struggling to keep his emotions in check.

Dazai, ever perceptive, noticed. “Chuuya, you’ve been acting weird lately.”

Chuuya scoffed, trying to deflect. “I’m fine. Focus on the mission.” Dazai grabbed his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. “Is that all you care about? The mission?”

Chuuya froze, his heart pounding. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He snapped back, trying to free himself of the grip without drawing too much attention on the both of them.

“You’re hiding something,” Dazai said, his tone uncharacteristically serious. “And you’re terrible at it.”

Chuuya yanked his hand away, his frustration boiling over. “You don’t see anything, do you? You think everything’s just a game!”

Dazai’s expression shifted, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. “Chuuya...”

“Forget it,” Chuuya muttered, turning away. “You wouldn’t understand even if I explained it.”

—

Later that night, Chuuya sat on the rooftop, the cold wind biting at his skin. He stared up at the stars, his thoughts a tangled mess.

He heard footsteps behind him and sighed. “What do you want, Dazai?”

Dazai sat down beside him, his usual grin replaced with something softer. “You always run off to rooftops when you’re upset.”

Chuuya didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the horizon. They sat in silence for a while, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them. Finally, Dazai spoke. “You’re not as hard to read as you think, Chuuya.”

Chuuya turned to him, his hands tensing on the concrete floor. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Dazai’s gaze softened. “It means... maybe I don’t see everything, but I see enough.” He mumbled while tracing Chuuya’s fingers and finally cupping his hand on his own.

Chuuya’s breath caught. “Dazai, I-”

Before he could finish, Dazai leaned in, pressing a light, fleeting kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Chuuya froze, his mind blank. When Dazai pulled back, his usual smirk returned. “There. That’ll help sell it, right?”

Chuuya stared at him, his heart aching. You really don’t get it, do you?

But he didn’t say anything. Instead, he looked away, a small, bittersweet smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “That’ll do.” 

After that, Chuuya was left in his conflicted sea of thought, while Dazai made his way back inside to the gala.

“That has to do unfortunately for forever” Chuuya breathed out into the dark night. Looking up into the sky there were two bright stars beside each other, twinkling, reminding him no matter how close he will ever get it will never be enough for Dazai to understand his feelings fully.

A warm tear escaped his eye and landed beside his now relaxed hand. One day in the afterworld maybe. Chuuya mused around and stayed there till the gala ended.

[stellamancer]

notes: hello and welcome to an episode of wips I'll never finish!! mentioned this a little earlier tonight and well here we are.

contains: gojo + reader, non-explicit sexual themes (discussion of sex and an all but implied extremely sexually active reader), the usual banter, gojo is a loser.

You stare down at the curse writhing beneath you and dig your heel into its flesh. It's a little unnecessary at this point but you don't care. The curse squeals, as if begging for mercy, but you ignore it and exorcise it completely. Dark purple blood splatters all over the place and you grimace as it gets on you. Gross.

"Bad lay last night?" Gojo asks. You look up at him as you wipe your hands and you can see one of his eyebrows lift behind the material of his blindfold.

You give him a wry smile. "That obvious?"

"No, but you were maybe just a little more aggressive than usual," he says and you hum. Didn't think he'd notice. "Thought I might be next on the list."

That makes you snort. "I couldn't exorcise you if I tried."

"Aw, I knew you loved me."

You roll your eyes. That's not what you said but Gojo's selective hearing is nothing new. Mission complete, you start to leave the room and Gojo follows.

"Soooo," he says conversationally. "What was the problem this time? No stamina? Blow his load early? So small you couldn't tell it was there?"

"No..." you answer. "He was actually pretty big just..."

"Ahh, I see," Gojo interjects and you see him nod his head sagely. "One of those that thinks size makes up for lack of technique."

"Unfortunately."

It's probably weird for you talk about your sex life to one of your coworkers with this amount of ease and, honestly, you can't imagine having this conversation with any of them (save for Shoko who is more friend than coworker) but Gojo is, and always has been, a weirdo. He's well aware of your... activities off the clock, and while he's way more curious about the finer details than most, he doesn't seem to judge you for it.

Unlike Shoko. But she can't say much when she's been unable to fully swear off smoking.

"Didn't save his number then?"

"Absolutely not," you snap and Gojo just laughs. Most of your encounters are just one night stands, but there are a rare few whose numbers you've saved, though you're reluctant to contact any of them more than a few times. The last thing you want is for any legitimate attraction to grow between you. It's better that way— for everyone involved.

"So, when are you going to give me a shot, huh?" Gojo asks and you stop walking, taken aback by his sudden proposition. "I'd be the best you've ever had, promise."

"No thanks." You answer automatically. Honestly, you've never thought about it; doesn't seem like a good idea to sleep with your coworkers.

"Ouch. Shot down just like that?" Gojo's tone is light, playful. You doubt he expected you to say yes in the first place. "You're pretty heartless, you know that?"

"Sometimes you have to be, especially in this profession."

This earns you another laugh from Gojo, "It's okay, I get it: you're just not ready for me to blow your mind yet."

"You're delusional," you say flatly.

He ignores you and continues. "Not that I can blame you. Once you have me, there's no way anyone else will ever compare."

You roll your eyes. Cocky for someone who obviously doesn't entertain the thought of being with anyone else sexually, or even romantically for that matter. Gojo talks a big game, but you wouldn't be surprised if he was actually unconfident in the bedroom. Actually, you think you'd like to see that.

Not that you'd say that to his face.

"Gojo."

"Yessss?" His tone makes you wonder if he thinks you've reconsidered.

Too bad for him.

"You're delusional," you repeat, smiling just a little.

[knittedslug]

hey. hey gwen.

[snekdood]

There are genuinely people online that instead of actually bringing people to the left, at this point, would prefer that anyone who was previously not on the left but who tries to be *stays* outside of the left, because i guess its just easier to comprehend when the world is put into little shitty boxes you labeled for them instead of actually thinking for once and having the nuance to understand them. Like thats wild to me that theres people who would prefer you not be on the left or not try to be. Yall GENUINELY do not care about advocating for your side politically in any capacity. Its LITERALLY just a clique you've found yourself in. And theres nothing progressive about that or being exclusive, wtf do you think this shit is, a night club? Grow the fuck up, honestly.

[k1tty5]

hello :D please tell me more about your mezalian (is that how you spell it??) smalletho I will forever be indebted to you

(they are gorgeous I love them sm)

hey hi !! it would be my pleasure … (and I’ve been spelling it mezalean ??? but i have no idea LOL. there might be a canon spelling but i havent watched joels esmp1 since… probably since it ended. i will have to check sometime)

apologizing in advance because i will probably get very ramble-y!!

ummm. Oh god. How to start. Lets see. WELL. In this silly little au (i guess it has become a bit more than just me doodling designs LOL) in my head they have like this sort of zelink dynamic? obviously without all the zelda lore & stuff, just that kind of … okay forgive me I haven’t brushed up on my zelink lore for a good many years but. Like the princess and her personal knight that doesn’t really talk much sort of thing.

this made more sense in my head. But yeah. They have the vibes of zelink ? At least if i remember zelink right, I have a really bad memory :’) not exactly the same, i do think etho talks to joel (whereas if iirc link never really talks) - especially after getting to know him a bit - but just. they have the Vibes. You know?

I reckon Joel’s definitely very into sculpting in this au, maybe dabbles a little in painting - I imagine mezalea to be very heavy on art and expression in general. think you’d especially see lots of pottery and textiles all around the place. He probably also has an interest in some form of like. um. whats the word. Some sort of … fighting. lmao. Specifically thinking of fencing, i had this idea in my head that he’s watched Etho practice outside the palace at some point and is just absolutely fascinated and enamored. by both the practice and etho himself haha.

and for etho… talented swordsman? he is Not washed. i dont really have many ideas for his character in this au To be completely honest, mostly just of his personality. Although, I alsooo think he’s probably not actually from mezalea? I like to draw him with those pointy elf ears, and i think mezaleans are just humans. I cant remember if thats canon or not but um. mezaleans have human ears, so i’d imagine etho’s probably from like.. rivendelle? Is that. What it’s called. The elf guys? Are they elves??? Goodness I cant remember. Grimlands would make sense too since i THINK they’re kind of like. technical engineer guys? but i dont know what species they are um so ,,, yeah,,,,

i think joel’s probably a bit put off by etho at first, mostly just because he’s not super enthused about the idea of a personal guard, but also because the guys a bit odd, you know? but he’s also probably suuuper intrigued by him. he wants to figure this new guy out, and when they start talking a bit more, i think. They are both incredibly charmed by the other. head over heels? possibly.

most of my ideas of this au are just little scenes that are cute and silly but dont follow any main plot. I would love to write some one-shots of some of the ideas i have in the future, but as of right now im experiencing a bout of creative burnout and am busy with the holidays - spending time with family, so… not right now lol!

hopefully this is what you wanted,,,, i tend to get very ramble-y when talking about literally anything, so i do apologize for that haha, i am Not good at explaining things in simple ways, as i’ve said many a time before.

[impostorsshow]

I'm actually so obsessed with him it's not even funny if i'm not listening to a TikTok or music directly related to him I can't focus free me free me

This is @/cherubpuppet's OC for a object show [au? pitch? wip show? How do I categorize this] and I've been destroyed by the fact that ruler art is infinitely superior [and 10x longer] and i don't have a good enough grasp on lip gloss's personality to make fanfiction so I am frozen in "want make fanart but fanart takes effort :["

[oceanwithouthermoon]

i think its weird that i have to make this disclaimer but the internet is crazy so wtvr,, anyway,,

if i say i dont like something, that doesnt mean "that thing is bad and nobody should post it.."

i swear literally every time i even mention that i dislike something, people will go "wow does that mean u fucking hate me cuz i post that thing? ur a fucking stupid bitch and all ur opinions r wrong" LIKE ?? er.. no. just because i say i dont like certain characterizations of certain characters (the saiki k fandom is CRAZY about this cuz i can state an opinion on literally any character and a group of people will still go 'well only we're allowed to post our opinions about them because we're always right!1!1!'), or certain ship tropes (mentioned my hatred of toxic yaoi maybe once or twice on here months ago and people STILL get mad at me as if i said toxic yaoi lovers r evil or something), or certain ships, or WHATEVER, does not mean that i HATE the people who are posting them or that i think they shouldnt post them at all, NO, im just posting about my personal tastes on my personal blog and it would be extremely weird and hypocritical if i decided that i was the ONLY person that was allowed to do that,,

i think the only reason people assume that is because there are a lot of other people on here who ARE like that, and a lot of people toe the line between posting that they dont like something and posting that they think everyone who likes that thing is stupid, annoying, and wrong,, so i guess all i can say is, sorry for whatever made you make these assumptions but they arent true about me so plz leave me alone ʘ‿ʘ ur doing the same thing to me that ur accusing me of but i didnt do it in the first place so ur just actively being a dick for no reason