#ah yes incorrect quotes my beloved

[violettierre]

Torazo : HOW COULD YOU STEAL FROM YOUR OWN BROTHER ????!!!!!!!!

Shio : YOU WERE ON MY PROPERTY!!!!!! DEAL WITH IT!!!!!

Torazo : NO IT WAS MINE AND YOU STOLE THAT TOO!!!!!! YOU MONSTER!!!!!!!!

Kongo :

Kongo : No more monopoly on game nights from now on.

[victorluvsalice]

Valicer Not-Incorrect Quotes, Meet The Family Edition Volume II: Van Dort Visit

Victor: [knocking on the door to Smiler's apartment, fidgeting anxiously] S-smiler? Are -- are you ready to go?

Smiler: [from the other side of the door] Yeah, just a second!

Smiler: [opens the door to reveal that they're wearing -- a plain black suit, white shirt, and black tie]

Victor:

Smiler: ...you okay?

Victor: [blinking and shaking his head] Yes! I-I just -- didn't expect -- [gestures to the outfit] I d-didn't think you owned -- d-don't get me wrong, it is p-probably perfect for visiting Burtonsville and m-meeting my parents, it's only...it looks d-downright funereal.

Smiler: [really awkward smile] Ah -- there's a reason for that...

--

[Context: the trio are being driven by the Van Dorts' chauffeur through the streets of Burtonsville to the Van Dort mansion]

Smiler: [takes a picture of the town and sends it to their friends]

Thirteen: [texting back] Ha ha. Take one without the black-and-white-filter, will you?

Galactica: [texting back] Yeah, be fair, Smiler.

Smiler: [a minute later, texts a picture of themselves and Alice in front of the window, showing that they're in full color]

Galactica: [texting back] WTF???

Thirteen: [texting back] HOLY SHIT HE ACTUALLY LIVES IN A TIM BURTON MOVIE?!

--

[Context: at the mansion, Victor is showing Alice and Smiler around]

Smiler: [staring down another hallway] Sheesh, how many rooms does this place have?

Victor: I'm honestly not sure. More than we could ever need, that's for certain. [rolls his eyes] Have to have room for all of Mother's "treasures..."

Alice: Yes, your mother in particular does seem to be into the conspicuous consumption. [small smile] At least you don't have a gold toilet?

[smash cut to:]

Alice: [staring at a literal gold toilet] Oh my fucking god.

Smiler: [also staring] Is it -- can you --

Victor: Of course not -- do you think my mother would ever allow anyone to befoul her beloved toilet?

Smiler: Rita is going to kill your parents if she ever meets them.

Victor: Please tell her to do so in a way that allows me a proper alibi.

--

[Context: Nell is holding court at tea and complaining about "this modern world"]

Nell: People just don't know their place anymore! Why, just a little while ago, I had the displeasure of dealing with the rudest, most incompetent barista I've ever met!

Victor: [not really paying attention anymore] Did you?

Nell: Yes! Cheeky little bugger didn't seem to understand anything about his job! All I wanted was a few little extras -- the sort a customer is entitled to -- and he couldn't even pour the coffee right!

Victor: [sudden horrified realization] Uh --

Alice: [calmly sipping her tea] That must have been terrible for you.

Smiler: [nodding] I bet you didn't even leave a tip.

Nell: Oh, we never leave tips anyway -- we don't believe in them, isn't that right, William? [William gets half a nod in before she continues] But we paid good money for that coffee, and I expected it to be done right! Not by some half-wit with dyed hair rolling his colored contacts at me!

Smiler: [completely deadpan] How dare they.

Victor: [muttering] Still drank the entire thing, though.

Nell: Not the point! [shaking her head as she returns to her own tea] At least you're not spending all your time with those sorts, Victor. If I knew you were carrying on with a barista I'd die of shame.

Alice: [under her breath] Can we have that in writing?

Victor: [trying very hard not to laugh]

--

Victor: [deep sigh as they all climb in the Van Dort's car to go home] Thank you both for putting up with that.

Alice: It's fine, Victor. They are your parents, and we were going to have to do that eventually.

Victor: I know, just -- I'm sorry. About them. They're -- a-a lot, I know.

Alice: [squeezing his forearm] I imagine you do, yes.

Smiler: Yeah, really. [pause] So, how do you think it's going to take before she finally realizes who I am and dies of shame?

Victor: Considering how much attention she pays to "servants" -- the heat death of the universe.

Alice: I don't think I can wait that long.

Victor: Please don't murder my mother.

Smiler: Yeah, Rita already has dibs.

[screwzara]

Part 3 :)

Part 1/Part 2/Part 3 - Here/Part ?

Welp, we have a repeat here from Tsutsuji's incorrect quotes generator post

Uhhh BP...?

Guess I'm dying today-

Response to both prompts above:

Ah yes, canonical Zara my beloved

BP don't murder me again pls, i swear I'm not tryna give u actual reasons to kill me or anything-

Hmmm yes very sensible

About this second repeat.... [Spoilers for one of the canonical ends to Zara's story]

I have no idea what this prompt is trying to imply-

Flamy omg pls hydrate-

[sigridhawke]

Incorrect Quotes Tag Game

Tagged by @ink-flavored​ wooo!!!

Rules: use this generator to make some incorrect quotes with your characters

This was so damn silly and fun XD Got my beloved friend to pick out some specific interactions from the Crimson crew to share hehe. There’s a few favourites so extras are under the cut.

.

Natasha and Nikolai (Princess and Wyvern)

Natasha, skipping rocks on a lake with Nikolai: It’s such a beautiful evening. Nikolai: Yeah, it is. Nikolai: *whispering* Take that you fucking lake.

-

Natasha: Nikolai, when’s your birthday?

Nikolai: Why? So you can figure out my weaknesses? So you can destroy me?

Natasha: …So I know when to wish you a happy birthday.

-

Natasha, watching Nikolai: Ah yes. The mysterious and beautiful Nikolai, so demure…

Natasha: …I wonder what sort of melodic sounds this wonderful being makes? Nikolai: *screaming*

 -

Natasha: Two wrongs don’t make a right. Nikolai: *sighs* That’s true… Nikolai: But to negatives make a positive!!!

 -

Natasha: Everything will be ok. You can not stop it. Natasha: Everything will be fine. You have no choice. Nikolai: What the fuck kind of pep talk is that? Natasha: Ominous positivity.

-

Natasha and Moonwhisper (Princess and Antagonist)

Moonwhisper: Do you see yourself as a glass half-full or glass half-empty kind of person? Natasha: Half-full, definitely. Natasha: Half-full and constantly rising. Natasha: Soon the water will escape its container and consume us all.

 -

Natasha: Moonwhisper? What are you doing here? Moonwhisper, wearing a hawaiian shirt, sunglasses and holding a gatorade: My best.

 -

Moonwhisper: Think you can answer some questions without the usual level of sarcasm? Natasha: If you can ask the questions without the usual level of stupid.

 -

Moonwhisper, T-posing in the doorway: Greetings, Natasha. Natasha, not looking up from their coffee: Good morning, problem child.

 -

Neo and Estella (Schrödinger’s pairing of foxes)

Neo: I regret nothing!!! Estella: I regret everything!!!

 -

Estella: Is five a lot of followers? Neo: Depends on the context. Neo: On Instagram? No, not a lot of followers. Neo: In a dark alley? Yes, a lot of followers.

 -

Neo: Are you trying to seduce me? Estella: Why, are you seducible?

 -

Neo: Hey, random question, what are your favorite flowers? Estella: Peonies, why? Neo: Estella: Were you going to get me flowers? Neo: Estella: Neo: ᶦᵗ’ˢ ᵃ ᵖᵒˢˢᶦᵇᶦˡᶦᵗʸ

 -

Neo: How do I tell Estella that I want them to yell at me like they're Gordon Ramsay and I'm a poor little chef who just ruined a crème brûlée?

 -

Shaurya and Feathers (father and son)

Feathers: PEASANT. I REQUIRE SUSTENANCE. Shaurya: You know there are other ways to say you want McDonalds. Feathers: FOUL PLEBEIAN. YOU DARE SPEAK AGAINST ME— Shaurya: *sigh* What do you want? Feathers: Chicken nuggets please.

 -

Feathers: Don’t worry, I have a permit. Shaurya: ...This just says “I can do what I want”.

 -

Shaurya: How would you like your coffee? Feathers: As dark and as bitter as my soul. Shaurya, shouting to someone behind the counter: I need one vanilla latte with extra cream and sugar!

 -

Feathers: *on the phone with Shaurya* I can’t talk right now, I’m doing hot girl shit. Shaurya: You’re pulling Oreos apart and saving off the frosting to make a mega Oreo, aren’t you. Feathers: Maybe.

 -

Thane and Odin (Human and Dragon caught in a timeloop)

Odin: Since we're in a relationship now, your clothes are my clothes too. Don't ask me why I have your shirt on, this is our shirt. Thane: Fine, but when I come strutting in with your fuzzy socks I don't want to hear shit.

 -

Odin: Am I right, Thane? Thane: I’m almost certain you’re not, but to be fair, I wasn’t listening.

 -

Thane: Odin is not allowed to decide which one of us is the chosen one.

 -

Thane: Hey Odin, do you have any hobbies? Odin: Swimming.. Thane: Really? That’s cool. I never expected you to- Odin: In a pool of self hatred and regret.

 -

Thane: Hey Odin, can you give me the opposite of these words? Thane: Always, Coming, From, Take, Me, Down. Odin: Never, Going, To, Give, You- Odin: The fucking satisfaction.

 -

The War Council the abridged series:

Kann : Make no mistake. Not only am I party rocking, but I am also in the house tonight. Morgan : But are you shuffling? Kann : Everyday. Shaurya: What language are you two speaking??

 -

Milo Jasper : I hate you. Isabella : Well, according to this picture I drew of us holding hands, that is untrue.

 -

Milo Jasper : I’ve never been in a snowball fight before. I don’t know the rules. Kann : What? Milo Jasper : Is there a point system, or is it to the death?

 -

Morgan : Who knew getting in trouble would be so impossible? Thane : I gotta give you credit, Isabella . You make it look easy. Isabella : Years of practice.

 -

Gwendolyn: I do two things and two things only. I devastate sorry motherfuckers, and get shit done as an awesome leader.

 -

Gwendolyn: When I get murdered, can you make sure I become an unsolved case? Morgan : wHat? Gwendolyn: I want to be on Buzzfeed Unsolved. Morgan : Can we go back to the part when you said "when I get murdered"?

-

Tagging:

[yelenapines]

John Laurens : I owe you one. Alex (Hamilton): That’s ok. You can just date me and we’ll call it even

[crymeariveronceagain]

Okay, so, I missed the prompt for yesterday but I still want to do it. Sooo. Here we goo.

What Kotlc means to me

There's something kind of special about how I got here, in a really strange way. There's something special about it. Being 15 and trying to read every single book in the library. Picking up a book because I need somewhere else to go, someone else's life to live. Reading the entire series through Nightfall in 3 days.

I never looked back, to be honest? I had huge opinions and my cousin had read the books and another friend of mine has also read the books so I talked about it with them, and the Flashback came out and I read it and got so annoyed with Fitz and Alden. Like, literally. Part of my love and attachment to this series was born from my distinct hatred of specific characters.

And I'd never been one to write fanfic. My mom had thoroughly pounded it into my head that fanfic wasn't real writing, and that I should be doing more real things with my work. I guess, with kotlc? I decided that didn't matter?

Who cares if it's not real writing, I enjoy it deeply and I loved sharing it with other people? It brought so much joy to me when I was able to capture the voices of Keefe and Sophie in Walk Through Hell. I remember sitting there and thinking "This sounds like something Shannon would write".

And I remember recommending the books to everyone. My then-boyfriend took me up on reading it, and fell in love with it, too, and I think that was the only time he ever liked my writing, when I sent him the Google doc for Walk Through Hell.

I was a Pinterest fan for a long while, and Tumblr posts in the making lurk in the comments sections of the kotlc pins. I went on mini rants about how Keefe and Sophie and even Fitz, even though I changed my tune about him after a while of character analysis. But nobody really interacts on Pinterest. Comments get likes or maybe a comment back, but it's not a social media. It's just media. No social. Like YouTube.

So like, in a really dark part of my life, I started posting stuff to AO3. And it just opened up this world where I could write and discuss my thoughts through my writing? If I had something to say I could say it, even if it was writing a fanfic about it and posting it, qnd people would see it! People would comment, or leave kudos!! It was insane.

And, eventually, I joined Tumblr.

You would not believe how freaked out I was the first time @hunkyhair-my-beloved interacted with one of my posts. Like. Holy crap. You guys don't understand how much of my Pinterest collection of kotlc stuff was their incorrect quotes. Like, not even kidding. I literally felt like I was interacting with a celebrity.

So, I guess.

Kotlc is writing stories. Kotlc is getting mad at characters and writing a 6k dissertation on why they're awful, or a 10k thesis about why they're misunderstood. Kotlc is reading the tags of the people who reblog stuff from me. Kotlc is rolling my eyes at @fintan-pyren. Kotlc is giggling at incorrect quotes and crying when I think about songs that fit Keefe's character. Kotlc is sharing my stupid media analysis with people who actually love hearing it, and enjoy my nonsense enough to stick around and come back for more.

Like, I look back on it now and I'm like, ah, yes. I coped with my spiraling life by writing about Linh Song in a similar situation to me. I wrote about Sophie to understand myself. I wrote about Keefe to get inside my own head and understand the pieces of my own broken heart. Yada yada yada.

At the time, I wasn't thinking about any of that. I was just doing something fun.

Kotlc for me is being up at 1 in the morning writing so that I finish the next chapter. It's grinning at AO3 comments and laughing with you crazies. Kotlc is just.... Fun. Kotlc is so much fun.

As much as I can get worked up over the ways I think canon is lacking, stars.

Kotlc means a whole lot to me.

[dinklebat]

I’m running out of funny title ideas

it’s part 7 of creepypasta incorrect quotes ft Y/N my beloved

(also I realized I accidentally used the same quote twice in a previous one but in my defense hdiwodksklsosi zuejjswjjai)

-

Rowan: What’s your favorite type of dog?

Jeff: Smile

Rowan: What type of dog is Smile?

Jeff: My favorite

-

Hoodie: What did you do?

Toby: Okay, I will tell you but you can't be mad at me.

Hoodie: What. Did. You. Do?

Toby: Well, I was minding my own business...

Hoodie: Bullshit.

-

EJ: *Carrying all of the groceries in his arms*

Liu: *Reaches out to grab a couple of groceries*

EJ: *Switches all of the groceries to one arm to hold Liu’s hand*

Liu: That’s not what I...okay.

-

Y/N: is there a particular reason you’re bleeding out on my bedroom floor?

Jeff: well it’s a little too cold to bleed out outside

-

Doby: If you don’t stop talking, I’m going to jump out of the window.

Masky: We’re on the ground floor.

Doby: I know, but I want a dramatic exit.

-

Y/N : Can I have $400 for a book for school?

Slenderman : What book?

Y/N :

Slenderman : Do you have any idea what a bad liar you are?

Masky : I’d be more worried that they couldn’t come up with a single book title.

-

Jeff: Liu!

Sully: Ignorant mortal, go away, I'm very busy planning my day.

Jeff: This paper just says "stab Jeff", 20 times

Sully, pulling out a knife: I'm on a tight schedule

-

*in a museum*

EJ: I am surrounded by magnificent art.... but you are the true masterpiece.

Liu: *blushes furiously*

*two paintings down*

Jeff: The artwork is marvellous, but...

Y/N *blushes*: But..?

Jeff: Everyone knows I'm the real masterpiece.

-

Toby: what if vegetables could feel things when we eat them?

Y/N: Toby, repeat after me

Y/N:

Toby: but you're not saying anything

Y/N: exactly.

EJ: But some studies show that plants can feel-

Y/N: shhhhhhhhhhh

Rowan: I can literally talk to plants and-

Y/N: SHHHHHHHH

-

Y/N: How do I politely tell someone that I want to hit their face with a brick several times?

EJ: One wishes to acquaint your facial structure with a rigidly edged object fundamentally used in the construction of walls repeatedly.

Y/N: That was poetry.

Liu: That was a cry for therapy from both of you.

-

Toby: Ah yes, baguettes, the elegant snakes of bread. We'll take two of your freshest yeasty eels, good sir.

Baker: What??

Masky: Ignore him.

-

Jane: Oh look, Satan’s here.

Jeff: Actually I prefer to be called ruler of all that is evil, but I will answer to Satan.

-

Rowan, to a cat: What's the problem? Are you okay?

Cat: meow

Rowan: Yes, but where?

-

Slenderman: Guys, I would tell you if I had a son

Jeff: *Walking past* Hey, Dad

Slenderman: Oh hey, kiddo

Splendorman:

Zalgo:

Slenderman: Okay, listen

-

Jane: Now Sally, say a stranger tries to offer you candy-

Sally: Oh! That's very nice of them!

Jane: Sally, no, you don't understand. This is a person who you don't know. Now say this person offered you candy. What would you say?

Sally: Well it's obvious. I would say, 'thank you'!

Clockwork: ...Sally, if I find your face on the back of a milk carton I swear-

[bi-demon-ium]

ah pinned post <3

im gert, and i like writing fic (my ao3 is biDEMONium) and drawing shit (my instagram is bidemonium). i mostly use he/aer/xem/they pronouns, but as long as you don’t call me she or it, i’m comfortable with pretty much any pronouns

this is currently a the mysterious benedict society blog (ahhh nicholas benedict my beloved) although i also post about the house in the cerulean sea, podcasts, and some other books. and i’m ALWAYS accepting asks and basically any other interaction <33 

quick tag shortcuts: #gert giffer  #my writing  #snippet  #wip  #askbox #gertspeak  #nicholas/milligan #mysteriousfisherman

i’d like to kindly ask that if you want to write a fic based on one of my posts/ideas you ask me first, and credit/link in the author’s note. art’s always welcome, but again, please credit/link if it was based off one of my things &lt;3

I follow back from @/androgymagnus, my main. I have a video games sideblog at @/holowniet. I’m also tracking #usergert but if it’s MBS related honestly I’m almost certainly going to see it anyway.

I also have a twitter (bidemonium) but I've basically not used it yet. I might when season two comes out, though, haven't decided yet. For now it's more to keep an eye out for updates 😭

TAGS

#gertspeak - personal posts or posts where i'm just talkin'. this tag was created on 12/12/21 (lol) and i might go back and tag some old posts but even if i do i'll probably miss some. hell, i might miss some after that date just because im adhd and forgetful lmao. haven't decided if this includes all original posts or just ones non-fandom related, but currently leaning towards the latter because hhhhh

#askbox - asks, anonymous or otherwise! (this does include wip 🌹 asks) 

#wip - wip snippets. usually from 🌹 asks, but also just in general.

#snippet - snippets that probably won’t become a full fic

#my writing - my fics, finished, usually just the ao3 links.

#my art - my art, usually shitty doodles and sketches from my sketchbook. they're not very good most of the time, but they're fun at least.

#gert giffer - my terrible adventures in gifmaking. i am not good at it 

some other minor tags include #incorrect mbs quotes (what it sounds like) #whumptober2021 (also what it sounds like) #mbs liveblog (won't be updated for quite some time for obvious reasons) 

as well as just normal character tags (i think you'll find #nicholas benedict to be one of the most occupied, for example, and i keep forgetting it has a tag now but my #nicholas/milligan agenda is gaining steam, also sometimes tagged #mysteriousfisherman courtesy of peachygos my beloved) and tags such as #tag games and #mmc (for “make me choose” gifsets)

I know DNIs are functionally useless as most people won’t respect them, but know that I’ll be blocking any bigots (yes, that includes exclusionists and TERFs and transmeds/truscum) as well as “pr*-sh*ppers”/”anti-antis” (PARTICULARLY “MAP supporter” types).

Also, full disclosure, if you post a lot of negativity for the show, I’ll probably block you just because I really don’t want to see that. It’s nothing personal, this is just kind of my hyperfixation / comfort thing right now.

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

but it is sunlight

Fandom: Kamen Rider Agito, Kamen Rider Kabuto, Kamen Rider Gaim, Kamen Rider Ghost Characters: Tsugami Shouichi, Hikawa Makoto, Tendou Souji, Kagami Arata, Kazuraba Kouta, Kureshima Takatora, Tenkuuji Takeru, Fukami Makoto, Alain Song: "Sunlight," Hozier (playlist here) Warning: Mildly NSFW--not especially explicit, but people do have sex in this story

a buried and a burning flame – i

A shared day off is rare, but it does happen sometimes, and today the weather is so warm and perfect that Makoto is content to sit on the step drinking a lemonade and watching Shouichi garden.

Their garden space here isn’t as big as the one Shouichi got used to at Professor Misugi’s house, but it’s been expanded upwards with poles and frames and other contraptions that Makoto isn’t quite clear on. Really, they’re lucky to have a plot at all—the restaurant has its own rooftop space, so it’s not like Shouichi’s hurting for plant contact, but he needs it for himself as well. Makoto’s not sure he’ll ever understand the way Shouichi craves the presence of growing things. But then, he’s just happy to see Shouichi enjoying himself.

He glances around the garden briefly as Shouichi’s murmuring over a cucumber plant and frowns. “Aren’t sunflowers always supposed to face the sun?”

“Generally, sure.” Shouichi smiles but doesn’t look up from his work. “Why?”

“Well, if they don’t then doesn’t that mean they might be sick? The sun’s south of us right now, but your flowers are facing west.”

“Our.”

“Mm?”

“It’s your garden too.”

“Well, sure, but I mean it’s really—”

“Anyway, don’t worry, if they were sick I’d know. They’re probably just a little slow today.”

Makoto’s dubious, but he nods, and Shouichi beams at him for a moment and then goes back to fussing with the cucumbers. Once he finishes with them, he does something with a tomato plant nearby, and then hurries over to a small patch of green onions on the other side of the garden.

The faces of the sunflowers move to follow him as he walks. Makoto almost misses it, catches their motion out of the corner of his eye as he, too, is turning, and then freezes as they continue to shift. “Do—did you just see that?”

Shouichi frowns. “See what?”

“Ah…no, never mind.” Makoto settles forward, elbows on his knees, watching in soft fascination as Shouichi continues to work. “It’s not that important, I probably imagined it.”

---

the icarus to your certainty – i

Tendou doesn’t make demands most of the time, but he doesn’t make suggestions either. He makes statements and then continues on in the calm assumption that they’re true.

When he gets back from his trip abroad, for example, the first conversation Arata has with him ends with, “We’ll see you for dinner at six.” It’s not an invitation, or a request, or a question. It’s just a statement of fact, its truth etched into the fabric of the universe, and so Arata gets to the house at six precisely.

There are other statements that follow, of course. Like, “I’ll see you at the same time tomorrow,” and, “Other people address me by surname, not you,” and, “It’s late, you’ll stay the night.” The thing is, Arata wants to bristle at this casual certainty, but he can’t manage it, because so far Tendou—Souji—hasn’t said anything incorrect. When he makes these statements, Arata wants them to be true, and so they becometrue by default. He shows up at the same time the next day. He says, “Souji,” instead of, “Tendou,” and is shaken by the faint, surprised smile he gets in response. He stays the night.

Tonight Souji’s making some kind of crab risotto thing, and Arata is helping, which is to say making a salad. This is already strange, since it used to be that he was barely even allowed in the kitchen. Hiyori, visiting for the evening, is sitting on the couch with Juka while Juka talks about one of her classes at Jounan University. It’s very domestic.

He finishes slicing cucumbers and is reaching for the lettuce when Souji turns to him holding a small spoon and says, “Taste this.”

On automatic, and because his hands are busy, Arata just leans forward and eats the spoonful of risotto, letting it spread out creamily over his tongue. “Mm.”

Souji is looking at him expectantly. “What do you think?”

“I think—wait, you’re actually asking me for my opinion?”

“Shouldn’t I?”

“You just…don’t usually ask for opinions.”

“Not from other people, no, but other people aren’t you.”

Arata laughs in warm surprise. “Really? What makes me so different?”

He’s not really expecting an answer, but Souji looks at him for a long moment and then says, “If all of humanity were alchemically distilled into one specimen exhibiting only its finest qualities, that specimen would be you.”

Arata stares at him. “I. You. Are…is this a quotation, are you quoting something?”

Another one of the faint, surprised smiles he’s gotten to like seeing. “No. But perhaps someday, someone else will quote me, and rest assured, the recipient of the quotation will not deserve it nearly as much as you.” And, before Arata can really process that, “I would appreciate your opinion on the risotto now.”

“I…it’s really delicious, but. Maybe it could use a pinch more salt?”

Souji nods firmly. “I’d suspected as much. Thank you.”

He returns to his cooking, reaching for one of the little pots of salt next to the stove, and leaves Arata to cut up lettuce and try to figure out what just happened.

---

i had been lost to you – i

Kouta’s visits are infrequent, inconsistent, and never announced. The most warning Takatora ever gets is a sudden, powerful waft of flowers and fruit, moments before a zipper opens in the air in front of him. He’s gotten used to it, as much as one can get used to something like that.

(Kouta always comes to him. His house has more privacy than most other spots Kouta knows in Zawame, and anyway, according to him, “You’re always easy for me to find.”

Sometimes those visits are for “work,” as Kouta calls it, and he stays only for a brief moment before rushing off to whatever world-ending crisis has caught his attention. More often, though, the reason is nothing more than, “Things are aligned correctly right now, and I missed Zawame.”

He’s sitting in the park now, on a bench under a camellia tree. A casual observer wouldn’t look at him and see a god, just a smiling young man in a plaid shirt and dark jeans, shoes kicked off so that he can curl his bare toes in the grass. Maybe he’s waiting to meet a girlfriend, or a boyfriend; maybe he’s just enjoying the good weather. As Takatora watches, though, a squirrel runs down the trunk of the camellia tree and leaps onto Kouta’s shoulder, and he turns and beams at it, apparently listening intently to its chattering. A jay is perched on his knee. Two stray cats are sprawled on the grass flanking him like indolent sentries, and a dog with a collar, probably lost, is curled up against his hip on the bench.

He lifts a hand, cupped, and Takatora knows without being able to see it that his palm is filling with seeds, manifesting as if from his skin. He’s done it before. The squirrel runs downs his arm and begins to stuff itself, the jay hopping from his knee to his fingertips to do the same. With his other hand he reaches up absently to catch a gleaming red apple that drops down from the camellia tree and begins to eat. Only the plants nearby lean away from him, which seems strange until Takatora realizes that they’re not really leaning, they’re growing, extending outward from his presence like an aura, the grass increasingly tall around his ankles.

How strange to see him at peace. And what an astonishing thing, that he should turn his face even for a moment from the new world he guides and his cosmically-designated beloved to walk once more in the city that treated him so poorly.

(She doesn’t visit. She can’t set foot outside of her hallowed forest now. But Takatora did get to speak to her, once, and he knelt and begged her forgiveness for all that he allowed to happen and received in return a kiss so gentle and yet searing in its benediction that even now he can feel it on his skin, and sometimes has to look in the mirror to see if she left a mark on his forehead.)

“Hey!” Kouta is waving to him with the hand holding the apple core. “Takatora! Are you done with your meeting thing? Come on over, I want to hear everything that’s happened since the last time I was here.”

Takatora blinks and nods, shocked out of his reverie, and heads over to the camellia tree. The stray cats scatter as he approaches, but none of the other animals move, so after barely a moment’s hesitation he sits down in the grass at Kouta’s feet, unmindful of his suit, and says, “Well, reconstruction work is nearly finished, we’ve only got two or three more buildings left to repair. Did I tell you about the dance classes at the new community center?”

“The ones that Zack and Peko are running? I think you mentioned them a little last time, did those finally start?”

Camellias bloom out of season over their heads. “Yes, only a few weeks ago. There may be a few other Beat Riders assisting as well, possibly by running additional courses, apparently enrollment was well past what anyone had anticipated.” Takatora leans against Kouta’s shin as the grass slowly creeps up past his knees, comforted by his radiant warmth. “And Mitsuzane’s continuing to enjoy university, he’s going to be working for one of his professors next semester as a teaching assistant…”

---

love and its decisive pain – i

Being around Takeru is a strange experience now, because by simply existing he exerts a spiritual pressure unlike anything else Alain’s ever encountered. The pressure isn’t negative, but it is constant, the weight of a higher reality radiating from his skin. Or, not a higherreality—Alain isn’t sure what it is, but Takeru’s certainly of the human world.

Alain isn’t sure if people who aren’t from the Ganma World even notice it. Certainly he’s seen Javert twitch minutely when handing Takeru something, he’s seen how Igor goes tense around him, even Alia’s been known to flinch away from the intensity of his proximity. Are they unusually sensitive, or are the people of the human world just numb to it?

Perhaps it’s nothing new, and he’s just always been like that and that’s why people don’t notice. Makoto would know—he’s of the Ganma World now, even if he came to it late. “Has Takeru always had such…presence?”

Makoto glances at him, and then over at Takeru, who’s crouching to offer a rice ball to a child sniffling on the temple steps. The child takes it, hand brushing Takeru’s, and relaxes in the same way that Igor might tense at the same contact, perceptibly basking in that unseen but powerfully felt aura.

“No,” Makoto says. “No, this is new. He wasn’t like this before. Or at least he wasn’t like this when we were young.”

Somehow this answer isn’t reassuring at all. “I see. That’s…it’s a lot.”

“It is, isn’t it.”

That’s the point at which Takeru hears them and looks up, face transformed by delight at the sight of them. “Makoto! Alain! When did you get here?” Behind him, Narita comes forward to walk the sniffling child over to a quieter corner, asking her as they go whether she knows either of her parents’ phone numbers. Takeru waves goodbye to her, beaming, and then hurries across the room to crash into Makoto’s arms, and Alain can see Makoto being overtaken by that benevolent pressure. “You didn’t tell me you were coming! Nothing’s going on, right? Everything’s ok? Who’s taking care of things in the Ganma World?”

“Everything’s fine,” Makoto says into Takeru’s hair. “Alia’s got everything under control.”

“This is a social call,” Alain adds, and is favored with an embrace of his own, knees almost buckling under the warmth of Takeru’s presence. “We just missed you.”

“I missed you both too. I hope you’ll be here for a couple of days, at least?” The weight of his joyful expectation is so much that Alain can only nod. “Wonderful! Here, come on, you’re both probably hungry, let’s go get takoyaki.”

He’s human, Alain realizes as Takeru’s fingers wrap around his and he feels that shiver run through him again. That’s all it is, and also everything that it is. More than anyone else in this realm, he is human.

What an extraordinary thing.

“I’d like that,” Alain says out loud, and Takeru is already grabbing Makoto’s hand as well. “It’s been a while since we shared a meal.”

“It has, hasn’t it? Let’s go, you two can tell me all the news while we’re eating.”

---

a buried and a burning flame – ii

For the most part Shouichi doesn’t initiate. It’s not that he’s not enthusiastic about sex, he’s just an awful tease. Little gestures, bumps and brushes, obvious double entendre that he then winkingly denies; he’d rather drive Makoto to distraction and pretend innocence until Makoto finally loses patience and backs him up against the nearest wall. He even admitted to it once, in an unguarded moment of drowsiness. “I like when you do that, it’s fun. And it’s not like I can just ask you to.”

“You could, though,” Makoto had said, but Shouichi had already drifted off.

They’ve been together all day, but Makoto can barely remember any of it clearly except Shouichi. Everything else fades into the background when faced with the vividness of his smile.

Makoto’s shirt is somewhere back in the living room, he thinks maybe on the couch. They’ve been trying to get Shouichi’s shirt off, but that’s been a tougher prospect, because it’s a pullover. Finally, though, it comes off over his head and lands on the floor, and Makoto presses him to the wall again. And now, even more vivid than his smile is the feeling of his skin, burn-hot against Makoto’s lips and hands and chest, his fingers like a brand curling around the back of Makoto’s neck as Makoto kisses his throat.

They barely make it to the bedroom.

The heat of him is extraordinary, feverish, it would be frightening if Makoto wasn’t used to it. He is, though, they’ve been together for years now, so instead his own thoughts can melt away in the face of Shouichi and his pleasure, the taste of him, the sound of his breathless cries, Shouichi arching up against him. Sure, he gets off somewhere in there too, but the important thing is Shouichi, climaxing underneath him with a gasp of, “Makoto,” and a kiss that Makoto would be willing to end the world for.

Afterwards, they lie wrapped around each other in a state of abstracted bliss until Shouichi mumbles something about being thirsty, at which point Makoto extricates himself despite the attendant sleepy protests and heads to the kitchen with a blanket around his waist to get drinks. Passing the bathroom on the way back, he pauses, frowning, at the sliver of his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

It hadn’t been sunny enough today to get a real sunburn, but there’s a sunburn on the back of his neck nevertheless, bright red although not painful. He sets down one of the glasses, reaches up and covers it almost perfectly.

When he realizes what it is—although Shouichi’s palm is slightly broader than his, Shouichi’s fingers slightly shorter—he blushes and picks up the glass again, heading for the bedroom, hoping that his hair is long enough that no one at work asks about the handprint burned into his skin.

---

the icarus to your certainty – ii

It’s not always so precipitous.

Normally they have to be quiet, because normally there’s at least one other person in the house. And in any case, Souji dislikes rush—he’ll approach anything and everything with a plan in mind, sex included.

Tonight, though, after dinner finished, Juka distributed a round of cheek kisses and then gathered up her bag and headed out, to meet up with a university friend she’s doing a project with. Hiyori left shortly after that. (She rarely stays the night anyway, she doesn’t like to leave her parakeet alone.) They’re alone in the house unless the Zecters are around somewhere, and they mostly keep to themselves, they’re hardly company in the same way.

But.

Precipitous.

They do dishes together, in comfortable silence, and once that’s done and his washing gloves are off Souji turns to make one of those true statements. Except that Arata decides he doesn’t feel like hearing one right now, so before Souji’s even gotten through one word Arata takes a step forward and kisses him, bracketing him against the edge of the counter with both arms. Souji makes one of those little surprised noises and drapes his arms over Arata’s shoulders and pulls him closer, and a couple of minutes later Arata’s hands shift down to lift and Souji’s legs wrap around his waist, and.

It’s good that they have the house to themselves.

They can’t stay at the kitchen counter, because it’s a bad height and also that’s not sanitary, and the dinner table won’t support their weight, which is a lesson they learned the hard way. The couch is an option, though, and it’s not easy to get over there with another person wrapped around him, but it is doable. He sits, or more lands, with a thump, Souji in his lap, Souji’s hands on the sides of his face tilting his chin up, and for some while lets himself be overwhelmed by having all of Souji’s considerable attention focused on him.

A pause for breath, for the removal of at least some clothing (and if Souji fumbles Arata’s shirt buttons, Arata’s going to save the memory for himself and certainly never mention it), for—“Are you all right?”

For Souji looking down at him, dizzy-eyed, and saying, slowly, “Your depths are such that I think I could drown in you.”

Arata reaches up, takes hold of his wrists, thumbs rubbing gently across the pulse points. “I mean, I can’t get poetic about it like you can,” more quietly than warranted given that they’re alone, “but you’re so much that sometimes I feel I could burn up, so that seems like a fair trade.”

He’s expecting that surprised look, but it doesn’t come, because what he gets instead is a kiss that would definitely have him on his ass in seconds if he wasn’t already sitting down. “More than fair.”

---

i had been lost to you – ii

Even before his apotheosis Kouta was a man built for pleasure. It must have been a glorious accident of his birth, Takatora thinks, that on his mouth smiles are so natural, that his body responds to any rhythm with grace, that he laughs so easily. Takatora has lived his entire life on the far other end of that spectrum—at best, he might call himself austere—but he can’t bring himself to be jealous of such an infectious and in-born joy. He can only hope to increase it, in whatever way he can.

So he kneels.

It isn’t worship, because Kouta will not accept his worship. Or anyone else’s, for that matter, he may be a god but he refuses to be treated like one. But love, as a great man once said, is a sacrament best taken kneeling, and while there are many points Kouta will argue, Takatora’s esteem and affection for him are not one of them.

Really, though, Kouta isn’t saying anything especially coherent right now.

His unnecessary but habitual breathing is coming short, and his hair flickers from deep brown to unearthly gold as his concentration disintegrates. If his eyes weren’t squeezed shut, they, too, would be flickering. His fingers, curled on the edge of the bed, have flowers blooming between them. And Takatora, the indirect cause of this riotous growth and rendered speechless for more immediately physical reasons, continues until his lips are numb and Kouta is pulling him up and flattening him to the bed with a kiss.

“You don’t have to stop me, you know I wouldn’t mind if you—”

“No,” and a kiss, “no, we don’t know if it could—” and another kiss, “so no, even though you know I, you know—Takatora, I—” and the dissolution of coherence once again, now for both of them, as Takatora dizzily allows himself to be subsumed by Kouta’s passion and enthusiasm.

The first few times he was able to visit, afterglow involved actual glowing on Kouta’s part, which was the cause of some mutual hysteria—Takatora doesn’t want to call it giggling, but that’s really the accurate term. The glow’s under control now, and Kouta lies against him, asleep, and does not look more divine than any other beautiful man in repose.

There are still flowers blooming on the edge of the bed, red and orange against the plain bedspread. They’ll be scolded away later, but for the moment they are bright and strong and vivid. Takatora, drowsy himself, drifts off gazing at them, Kouta’s arms tight around his waist.

---

love and its decisive pain – ii

They are devoted partners, and thus Takeru’s anger is their anger, Takeru’s sorrow is their sorrow, Takeru’s joy is their joy, and, most crucially in this moment, with the dawn not arrived and the day yet to start and make them all busy, Takeru’s pleasure is their pleasure. And because he is who he is, because he feels everything with such strength and fervency that it radiates from him like sunlight, it is such pleasure. On his back, hands above his head, eyes bound, he has given himself over to their loving mercy and yet the weight of his existence is still enough to envelope them both.

Alain leans down to kiss the smiling mouth below the blindfold and say, softly, “Is there something you want?”

“Isn’t the point of this that you two are making the decisions?” Takeru sounds like he might laugh.

Alain glances over Takeru’s chest at Makoto, who is already looking over at him, and who raises an eyebrow before saying, “Is that a serious question or are you just being difficult?”

It’s definitely suppressed laughter. “A little of both, really. I want you to do what you want. I trust you.”

So they do what they want, which, gloriously weighed down by Takeru’s unconditional trust, is what he wants too. And what they want is to kiss, to touch, to take their pleasure in ways that render him arch-backed and breathless and crying out as they take their turns on him. They take their pleasure until he’s coming in an unexpected avalanche of laughter which, like all avalanches, overtakes them as well.

Dawn is breaking, light spilling in through the open window for Takeru to flinch against as they uncover his eyes. He buries his face against Makoto’s chest as soon as his arms are free and he can move, mumbling, “It’s too bright, I’m going back to sleep, you both have to keep me company since you’re the ones who wore me out.”

“Right,” Makoto says drily, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as Alain is draping himself over Takeru’s back, “humans need sleep, I forget that sometimes.”

He can feel Takeru’s smile like a separate presence in the room, even though he can’t see it. “Oh, like you’re so inhuman.”

Alain presses his face to the back of Takeru’s neck and finds that, at least for the moment, the pressure of his reality is not so much a weight as it is an embrace, enfolding the three of them as they lie together drowsing. “It’s not that we are less, perhaps.” A yawn against Takeru’s warm skin, occasioning a ticklish wriggle. “It’s just that you’re so much.”

[aspen-lol]

(And now, Quotes with Sunny's alter-ego and the kind, compassionate, and goofy Headspace Gremlin, the adoptive father of Omoli, the boyfriend of Stranger, Omori.)

Omori: I’m going to defeat you with the power of friendship! ... And this knife I found.

Omori: Trust me buddy, I’d like to offer you moral support, but I have questionable morals.

Omori: Physically, yes, I could fight a bird. But emotionally? Just... imagine the toll.

Omori: What doesn't kill me should run, because YOU TURNED MY FRIENDS INTO TOAST AND NOW I'M FURIOUS.

Omori: I was born for politics. I have great hair and I love lying.

Omori: I went through an entire character arc during quarantine.

Omori: I think I became more evil if you’re curious.

Stranger: We're still in quarantine, don't worry, there's time for a redemption arc still!

Omori: I may get worse on purpose Stranger.

Stranger: This is a mistake.

Omori, enthusiastically: A mistake we're going to laugh about one day!

Stranger: But not today.

Omori, still enthusiastic: Oh, no. Today's going to be a huge mess.

Stranger: Is something burning?

Omori: Just my love for you.

Stranger: Omori, the toaster is on fire.

Omori: English is a difficult language. It can be understood through tough thorough thought, though.

Stranger: You need to stop. Cease even.

Omori: Do you ever want to talk about your emotions, Stranger ?

Stranger: … No.

Headspace Basil: I do!

Omori: I know, Basil.

Headspace Basil: I’m sad!

Omori: (patting Headspace Basil) I know, Basil.

Omori: Fitness tip: never stop pushing yourself. Some say 8 hours of sleep is enough. Why not keep going? Why not 9? Why not 10? Strive for greatness.

Stranger: Next time you’re working out do 15 push ups instead of 10. Run 3 miles instead of 2. Eat a whole cake instead of just a slice. Burn your ex’s house down. You can do it. I believe in you.

Headspace Basil: There were so many mixed messages in that I can’t-

Omori: I told Stranger their ears flush when they lie.

Headspace Basil : Why?

Omori: Look.

Omori: Hey Stranger! Do you love us?

Stranger, covering their ears: No!

Headspace Basil: ...

Omori: Here’s a fun Christmas idea. We hang mistletoe, but instead of kissing, you have to FIGHT whoever else is under it!

Stranger: Omori no.

Headspace Basil: Ah, one who is indluged in the art of Mistlefoe!

Stranger: Please stop encouraging them!

Omori: How's the cutest person here?

Stranger: I don't know, how are they?

Omori, flustered: I-

Mari, from across the room: I'm doing great, thanks!

Omori: I’m kind of crushing on someone, but I’m worried about telling you who it is, because you’re not going to like it.

Mari: Just rip the bandage off little brother.

Omori: It’s Stranger.

Mari: Put the bandage back on.

Omori: What's a word thats a mix between 'sad' and 'mad'?

Stranger: Disgruntled, miserable, desolated-

Mari: Smad.

Omori, holding a python: (excited) Guys I impulsively bought a snake, what do I name him?!

Stranger : You did WHAT–

Mari: William Snakepeare.

Omori: We need a distraction!

Stranger: Is anyone here good at jumping up and down and making weird noises?

Mari, whispering: My time has come.

Omori: While I’m gone, Mari, you’re in charge.

Mari: Yes!!!

Omori, whispering: Stranger, you’re secretly in charge.

Stranger: Obviously.

Omori: Who thinks I can fit 15 marshmallows in my mouth?

Stranger: Omo, sweetie, I may love you and that big bright red bow that you always wear, but you’re a hazard to society.

Mari: And a coward! DO TWENTY!!

[Incorrect Quote Generator my beloved.

GREMLIN OMORI MY BELOVED.

USUALLY THE VOICE OF REASON STRANGER GETTING INTO SHENANIGANS TOO MY BELOVED.]

(Writer Anon)

THERE ARE SO MANY WH

[julies-butterflies]

I must admit, sometimes I do feel like a ye olden solider, sending letters to my beloved across the waves during wartime. Oh my dearest Lydia, I hope the kudos and comments crops have been plentiful this season. Your last letter left me weeping. Why must you put poor Reginald through such pain?

(I gotta admit, I still can't believe that I'm talking to you. I've been looking up to your work for so long...it just feels a bit surreal, even now! Glad you like hearing my ramblings! And that you liked my vampire prompt! Did not realize you'd write back when I sent that in. Look at us now, huh?)

(Speaking of prompts, I sent those jukebox and willex ones too. And I loved them both so so much, I shall scream about them more when it is not 2 am because I need sleep)

(Oh and the update of If I Was You!!! Amazing, Stellar, Incredible, Reggie, Carrie, Julie shenanigans is my new favorite thing, DID YOU JUST DOUBLE THE CHAPTER COUNT, and I'm like 90% sure Trevor is in deep trouble with a certain angry jazz ghost. Seriously loving it)

I actually do not remember what it was like to send in 1/5 asks, because I did not get a Tumblr until very reccently! I've always been a nerdy person, but Jatp is my first time being really in a fandom. You gotta do something new in quarantine, right?

Ah yes. Luke and Emily. To me, it just seems obvious that there's so much love between them. Even with all the pain. You get it. You put it down so eloquently.

As for what kind of stories I like to read...it seriously depends on my mood.

I like niche aus, passion projects. Stories where you can just feel the author's love for the world they're inventing. But I tend to lean towards cannonverse. I like ghost stories, it's what drew me to this show in the first place. And I love exploring that concept. (Being forever gone, and always the same...it's just fascinating to me)

Platonic goodness is just WONDERFUL for this show. I will read anything with cuddles. I am touched starved and these kiddos are too, and I will cry about them puppy piling every damn day. Plus there's just some much POTENTIAL for future friendships! I love ones where Flynn and Carrie get to interact with the boys as well. And 90s content, from before and after the orpheum, just hits hard.

I really wasn't expecting to get invested in the couples on this show, but something about them is moving to me. So I do love to read about them. Watching two queer kids who lived during incredibly important areas of queer history find love together after death really hit hard for me, and there's just something so bittersweet about a girl and ghost deciding to love each other for the little time they're given.

I love family dynamics too. Anything with Ray and his seven disaster children, the band and Trevor.... I think Julie and Emily is one of my favorite dynamics to explore. A girl who lost her mother and a mother who lost her son, both grieving but with one able to speak to the dead...it's just very powerful to me.

(And of course, Luke and Emily, but I figured you already knew that)

Mostly...I like seeing the messy stuff. The unexpected consequences, the baggage. I want to see the messy emotions, the grief and anger, the jealously, the disorientation. I look for those glass shards, that might be too sharp to ever be addressed on the show. Not even the big, monumental plot lines just... the harder pieces of life, the little moments that don't fit neatly into a nine episode arc.

I just want to see them live you know? Love, laughter and loss all mixed together.

(One of my all time favorite tropes is "found family gets broken apart by trauma, only to find each other again and come back stronger than ever." I feel like this explains a lot of my taste in fiction)

Thank you for the writing advice. Your words were very motivating. I am trying to begin! I got up the nerve to start working on a little piece. Who knows if it will go anywhere. But it's been nice, to finally put some words on the page.

The POTC au is so freaking good man. The character dynamics are just on FIRE. Everything is broken and messy and the relationships genuinely tug at my heartstrings. It's such a fascinating story. Highly recommend, even with the cliff hangers.

OH HOW COULD I FORGET PAWPRINTER? Man oh man I love all her work. The wheelies art and steals universe is freaking amazing, not an avacado had me in tears (of laughter, till things got surprisingly sad). And All that Remains...slow burn Willex perfection. Jedi Alex and Pilot Willie have my HEART.

I don't think I've read firefall and weneedglitter (or if I have, I'm just not connecting the names to their pieces. I don't always remember author names. it's a problem). I will go look for them though! Cannot wait!

For more recs, I recently binge read We Found Wonderland. I was not mentally prepared for the sheer amount of feelings that gave me. Highly recommend, if you ever want an emotional rollercoaster with an incredibly satisfying end.

Going on to more serious subjects...I'm sorry your family doesn't see your grief for what it is: honest. Better to feel everything quietly, than make it an easily understadnable performance. Fake grief is so easy to spot.

I think of that scene from "Forever," when Buffy breaks down and tells Dawn that she has to keep busy, because if she stops, it means Joyce is really gone. There's a lot of truth there.

On a tangent here but.. there was a very long period in my life when I was told the ways I expressed my emotions were "incorrect". And I found that sometimes, no matter how you show your emotions, you'll always be criticized. Numbness can be called disinterest, but sobbing can be called attention-seeking too. Too big, too small: that jury was impossible to please This may not apply in your situation but...it's okay to feel however you can. It's the only think you can do, really.

As I've said before, Grief is such an odd trickster.

Don't you ever get tired of missing people... This past year, I've been so weary of grief. Sometimes it can be so sharp, but it's that dull ache. That ball and chain, no longer cutting through your skin, but rubbing it raw, weighing you down.

And people don't like to talk about that part, because it's long and tiresome, but oh, is it there. I find it hard to talk about my grief, because sometimes there's just so much of it. I could drown in it, and that fear keeps me from looking to close. To incorrectly quote Jane Austin: "If I missed you a little less, I might be able to talk about it more."

(Sometimes it's faceable. But sometimes you just can't bear it. And that's okay.)

But what you wrote in that eulogy...the love is there. It's in every word you write. I cried reading that section. I feel honored once again to see some of your jagged pieces. You're sharing your heart, and there's just so much love.

In the wise words of an author I know, "Love is like the snow Reggie. It never goes away."

And don't worry, I'm always with you.

Sending Love,

-LydiaStan7845 (aka Vampire Anon)

So...that Reggie and Nicky prompt

my god

my GOD

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD

I think it's safe to say congrats, you've officially destroyed me! I was not prepared for that at ALL. I should know better by now I guess.

I can't get over that even though they all take place in very different universe, all your stories just feel so connected! The way this talked about those headphones, which you mentioned in the first chapter of Kill Your Heroes...it's just so cool. All the characterization and backstory is just so well thought out, and it genuinely blows my mind.

I didn't think I could love Nicky Peters more. I was wrong. The way you write about him...even though you never go into exactly what happened to him after Reggie's death, you can just feel how much it's shapped him as a person. And the trauma around his father, and how he fears becoming like that, was just so beautifully written. He's just so lovable and flawed and trying so damn hard and you made my heart ache for him. Again.

You always take these genuinely crazy situations and...you just make them feel so real. I love you explore the strains such a revelation would put on Nicky's own life, it just makes everything so compellingly messy. It seriously feel like I was watching a real-life account of a family trying to deal with such a massive complication.

That porch scene had me in tears both times I read it. Reggie's just always a big brother, even though Nicky is more than twice his age now. My heart was shattered, and then you slowly mended it, piece by piece. And for absolutely no reason at all, you wouldn't happen to have a reference for the porch, would you?

Just wow. Hope you're doing well. Sending love and applause

-Vampire Anon

i’m not even gonna reply, but i want these documented... on my blog... for posterity.  ( for any curious onlookers, i’m dating this anon now!! )

[treidor]

Ah yes my beloved Anon how observant to point out that the quote in my bio is an incorrect dub quotation from the Japanese song What I've Done by Linkin Park.

[kilhara]

Ah yes, incorrect quotes my beloved