#and i will do almost anything for more content to light my hyperfixation and get me back to writing fic for them

[neil-perrys-reincarnation]

TED LASSO IS RETURNING FOR A FOUHRHT SEASON WE ARE SO FUCKING BACK MY GUYS HOLY SHIT HDJDLSJFH

[hyperfixated-gvf]

Icy Slips and Little Lies

On the second day of Tropemas, hyperfixated-gvf gave to me:

A fluffy ice skating fic where Sam gets caught slipping.

Christmas Song Pairing: “Plea for the Holidays" by Marloma

Trope: Ice Skating

~~~

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x Reader

Warnings: None!

Words: 1.6k

~~~

“You know, I’m onto you,” you said to your boyfriend, as focused as you could be with most of your attention remaining on the couples and families around you, the inconvenient divots in the ice from where other skaters had tried to stop with the tip of their skate blades (and hopefully ate shit), and your balance.

All while your baby-giraffe boyfriend glided smoothly besides you without a care in the world.

He let out a short laugh, and you had to smile at the familiar sound of it. Even if you wouldn’t be taking your eyes off the ground, you could see his goofy, crooked smile in your mind’s eye. “Why? For what? I’m just minding my own business over here,” Sam said, putting one arm out and bracing himself as you stumbled a little bit on the chipped ice, giving you something to clutch onto like a safety rail for stability.

You were lucky that he was stronger than he looked; years of handling his less-than-feather-light instrument and honing the forearm muscle it took to move his fingers as fast as he did for the songs he played really came in handy sometimes (most of the time, actually…in a lot of different applications). 

And Sam was right – he really wasn’t doing anything particularly suspicious — not in the eyes of anybody else, at least. But you had insider knowledge. Insider knowledge that last year, when you were the one to make a date at the local ice rink thinking that, ‘oh, he grew up in Michigan, surely he’s a natural on the ice,” you would get to see Sam in his natural element.

But that was not the case. At all.

In fact, you’d quickly found out that Sam’s parents, bless their hearts, hadn’t let Sam try out for hockey when he was younger because he was just that bad on the ice. And he hadn’t gotten better in all the years since. Until today, apparently.

“You’re…good.”

“I’m good at a lot of things,” Sam joked, and he winked at you when you turned your head to give him an exasperated glare, “be more specific.”

You gestured at the ice. “This, Sam. You’re good at this somehow, when I watched you almost take out an entire family in one go last year.”

Sam stayed uncharacteristically quiet, and you looked over to see a small smirk on his face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Or,” he amended, sensing your argument brewing as soon as the words left his mouth, “I don’t know what you’re implying, at least.”

A new Christmas song started playing over the loudspeaker, and the clock on the scoreboard began a countdown to the next time that everyone would have to clear the rink so that the Zamboni could make a round and smooth everything out. You pointed at it, saying, “One more loop and then hot chocolate?”

“Anything for you, milady,” he said sweetly, leading you around again, no problems to be had.

Letting go of your suspicions for a moment, you took a second to appreciate just how happy and content he seemed. He’d come so far since the two of you had met and started dating, and you’d seen him in states of mind across the spectrum. But this? Glowing, even under the bright fluorescent rink lights, as he held your hand and hummed along to the Christmas tune? 

This was by far your favorite.

But favorite or not, you weren’t about to let him off the hook, seeing as he hadn’t even so much as stumbled this time. “I think you secretly went and got ice skating lessons,” you said, a small smile playing at your lips at your theory. 

Perhaps with anyone else, it would be outlandish, but Sam couldn’t stand not being able to do something at least averagely. It was the almost-Yale-bound overachiever peeking through his stoner facade.

But Sam reacted appropriately, letting out a honk and squeezing your hand in amusement. “Super secret skating lessons? What – you think that I blew off band practice just to come and get lessons from some meathead high school hockey player?”

“Yep.”

“For the sole, once-a-year date that we go on where I need this skill?”

Again, you nodded. “Yep.” You grew more and more confident with every word Sam said. This was his favorite way to weasel out of telling the truth – first he’d make you doubt yourself by oversimplifying your viewpoint so that it seemed outrageous, and if that didn’t work, then he’d try to change the subject, and then, if he really didn’t want to admit something, he would lie outright. 

“That’s some conspiracy theory, alright,” he chuckled, leading you towards the exit and slowing you both down so that you could exit the rink without tripping. “Hey, do you happen to know if this concession stand makes their hot chocolate with milk or water?”

Strike two.

You hobbled over to the lockers and started undoing the lock you’d been assigned to retrieve some cash, shrugging and refusing to let Sam off the hook. “I dunno,” you said dismissively, cocking your head when you turned back to him. “What did you learn first? How to stop? Correct skating form? How to fall?”

Sam blinked and then raised his brows. “Not sure what you’re talking about. My brain is a rock – even if I wanted to learn, it doesn’t soak up anything anymore. Probably all the loud noises on stage. Maybe the alcohol.” 

The snort you let out was ungraceful, but it made Sam smile, so you were fine with sounding like a bull in public for that reward. The line was short for concessions, with most skaters trying to skate until the clock ran out, and Sam hadn’t taken his amused gaze off of you. “The truth always comes out,” you said sagely, stepping up to the lacquered wooden bar, where one young woman and one young man were working.

“Sam!” the boy crowed, eyes lighting up as he turned to his coworker. “I told you,” he murmured before grinning at your boyfriend, who squeezed his eyes shut and flushed. 

“...Hey, Jack,” he mumbled, refusing to meet your curious, yet pointed gaze. “How’ve you been?”

The boy kept on grinning, content making small talk, as there was no one in line behind you. “Good! Have you been skating a lot? Did you ever get the spin down? Sorry we couldn’t keep lessons going,” Jack said, immediately outing Sam as your face grew subtly smug. You didn’t want to make the poor boy behind the counter uncomfortable, but you would give your boy all the shit possible.

Talk about karma.

“It’s all good,” Sam said as he waved off the apology. “I had music stuff, you had…school.” The statement hung in the air, and you realized that what he said earlier was so absurd that it really was the truth, and that was his strategy to get you off his back – he couldn’t have possibly known that it would blow up in his face so rapidly. “Could we get a couple of hot chocolates?”

Sam drew the transaction out, likely not looking forward to the ribbing you’d give him once you were out of earshot, but eventually, the buzzer beeped and people started filing in, looking for a snack, so you took your paper cups to one of the tables in the next room and sat in tense silence for a moment.

“Before you say anything,” Sam finally said, watching you grin into your hot chocolate, “you should know that I did it for you.”

The uncharacteristically affectionate statement – not that Sam was unaffectionate by any means, but grand verbal gestures just weren’t really your thing – stunned you, and you swallowed the sharp teasing that had been balancing on your tongue, so ready to fall out, in favor of curiosity. “For me?”

Sam mumbled something into his cup, so close to his drink that it actually bubbled around his words.

“Oh, sorry Mermaid Man,” you deadpanned, leaning forward on the table, “I don’t speak bubbles. Can you say that again?”

He huffed, fixing you with a lightly exasperated glare. “You’re so mean,” he pouted, but he quickly revealed his joking expression when you smiled a little softer and gave a small kiss to his hand. “We got kicked out of the couple’s skate last year,” he sighed. “And you were really looking forward to that. So, I felt bad, and not just because I almost took down Ethyl and Ron.”

At the memory of Sam, gripping for dear life on the suspenders of a sweet old man who thankfully hadn’t minded that your boyfriend almost sliced his kneecap off, you chuckled. It wasn’t because of Ethyl and Ron that you’d been kicked out – it wasn’t technically Sam’s fault at all. Sure, he’d pissed off a few other people who weren’t nearly as sweet as the old couple had been, but it was the moody middle-aged man who’d reported Sam to the apologetic rink supervisor that had ruined your fun in the end, not your boyfriend’s awful skating.

“Oh, Sammy,” you laughed, hopping out of your seat so that you could drape yourself over him and give him a kiss on the cheek. “I do love you.” Sam grabbed your hands where they hung by his chest and leaned back into you. With the opportunity there, you snuffled into his ear. “Thank you for trying. Even if I still believe you did it for your wounded pride more than me.”

You were gone, then. Back at to the lockers to get your skates and surely fail in your attempt to outrun Sam.

“Hey!” Sam cried, in both offense and surprise, tipping the rest of his cooling hot chocolate back before he raced you over to the benches, where you were already lacing up your skates again. 

~~~

Tag list:

@fleetsonfire @theweightofstardust @theatrekidjosh @fictional-duchess @greta-van-yeet @prophetofthedune @toothgapjoshy @gretavanfleas @gretavanfleetposts @doodle417 @razorbladekiszka @sammysvanfeet @s-u-t @lallisonl @hayley1623 @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @toxbexannouncedx @sammyslappers @alexxavicry @thecoldwind @maedesculpaeusoubi @jordierama @sarakay-gvf

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[heymacy]

Could you say more, ifyou want, about how it feels better to be over your Shameless hyperfixation?

I have been thinking for months that it might greatly improve my mental health if I could get over my Shameless and Gallavich hyperfixation because sometimes it brings me joy but sometimes it causes me to spiral downward.

of course! this got long winded because of who i am as a person so my thoughts are under the cut 💛

first of all, i don't want anyone to think that my opinion on fandom has changed whatsoever. i still think fandom is beautiful and transformative and inspiring and all the lovely superlatives. this is not me talking down about fandom at all, this is just me talking about my personal experience. i will definitely continue to engage with fandom in varying capacities as i have since i was 14 years old. that won't change. i think the main difference is that i no longer feel consumed by the show. it used to be that i would plans my days around fandom activities, think about the show/characters constantly, and spend (i shit you not) 90% of my free time engaging and creating. but it just isn't like that anymore.

i didn't necessarily do anything to make this happen, it just did. but there were definitely catalysts. for example, a lot of the shameless content we consume and engage with is pursuant to ian's bipolar storyline which, to me, is very personal and intense. being bipolar myself, it became very difficult to be constantly surrounded by content about my disease - especially when so much of that content was full of really bad takes or insensitive jokes that hurt me on a very deep, personal level. i realized that if i were to embrace my waning interest fully, to step back and give myself some space, i wouldn't be inundated with that kind of hurt anymore. i wouldn't spiral like i had been and instead i could focus that energy onto maintaining my own mental health and wellbeing. so that's what i did. and it WORKED. so because of that, i feel better.

i also feel better because now i have more time and energy to engage with new and different things. for so long, shameless was one of the only shows i watched. shameless fic was one of the only things i read. shameless gifs and metas were almost exclusively the only things i posted and shared around these parts (which made sense, me being a fandom blog and all). yet somehow, in light of it all, i wasn't enjoying myself anymore. i wasn't engaging because i wanted to engage, i was engaging because i felt a compulsory need to do so. i mean, it had been my entire life for three years, what the fuck else was i supposed to do? so i made the decision to stop, even if it only lasted a week or two. i stopped watching my favorite episodes on repeat. i stopped reading fics and deleted the ones i'd downloaded from my kindle app so as to resist temptation. essentially, i cut myself off cold turkey. then step two, if you will, was to push myself to engage with new content and hobbies, even if only to cleanse my palette. so i read new books and watched new movies and fell down random niche YouTube rabbit holes. and wouldn't you know it, it felt SO GOOD. i discovered new blorbos and watched some delightful films and started doing practical, real-world things like learning to cook and organizing my apartment. i went from feeling flat and one-dimensional, like i was only made up of one basic component, to fully formed and three-dimensional, a well-rounded human being. believe me, and please don't misinterpret what i'm saying here, i am fully aware than 98% of people that engage in fandom activities are fully formed, three-dimensional, well-rounded individuals that can engage with variety of content while maintaining that fandom/life balance. that just wasn't MY reality. still, i managed to break the hyperfixation off at the roots and i feel 5000x better for it. sometimes it's what's necessary to get to a headspace where if you wanted to engage, you could, and you could do it in a healther, more well-balanced way.

i think that if you feel your interest waning even the slightest bit, or if you feel like you're too consumed by it, or if it's not sparking joy anymore, or you're concerned about your mental wellness - take a step back. try engaging with something new and different. ask for recommendations from friends. give that new show everyone is talking about a try. pick up a hobby that's completely removed from media (i've started drawing again) and throw yourself into it entirely. or just sit there! allow yourself to be bored and aimless for a little while! it feels weird but i think it was a necessary thing for me to do. what worked for me and got me to this place definitely won't work for everyone, especially because everyone's levels of engagement and consumption are different, but i think for me it was always an inevitability that this was just a season for me. and a necessity, because i was Not Doing Well near the end of things.

lastly - and if you've made it this far i am genuinely sorry i'm so long-winded and Like This - i love you. i'm sorry that your hyperfixation has you feeling this way. i relate and understand completely and if you ever need someone to talk to about it, you can always come to me for a chat or a vent or even just a different perspective on things. i wish you all the best and i'll be here as a friend and a resource while you figure it all out!

[darkangel1117]

Spamton Blog Introduction

Hello! My name is Kurai, and this is my blog! Here are some quick things about me:

⟟ have ⏃ typing quirk (⟟-i ⏃-a)

⟟ have ADHD and Autism, so if you can, tone indicators would be great :)

⟟ have very strong hyperfixations so you will see ⏃ LOT of the same thing for ⏃ LONG time (im so sorry)

My pronouns are he/they void/voidself :) ⟟ dont really have ⏃ preference but please don't use strictly they/them, ⟟ like variety with my pronouns

⟟ live under ⏃ rock so if you ask me about any other media ⟟ haven't hyperfixated over you can almost guarantee that I've never heard of it

This blog is strictly Spamton themed! If my hyperfixation changes, ⟟ will simply make another blog and keep this one for anyone who wants to run through it :)

The DNI List (It's Not Scary)

Kindly DNI if you are any of the following (warning if your blog is empty and looks like ⏃ bot account, your gonna get blocked. set an actual pfp and make ur profile decorated to avoid being blocked):

Racist

Homophobic

Transphobic

Proshippers

Xenophobic

Ableist

Zoophiles

Pedophiles

Anti-Tone Indicators (If this is even ⏃ thing?)

Toxic people in general

People under the age of 13 (pls get off the app)

Dsmp Fans (this includes smps made by the original dsmp members) (toxic ones)

Genshin fans (toxic ones)

The Interact List (Please Interact)

Please follow or at least interact if you like or are part of the following:

Deltarune fans, specifically Spamton lovers (please I'm so desperate)

Undertale fans, ⟟ don't post about Undertale but ⟟ like talking about it :)

Artist, fanfic writers, etc you guys are super cool :D

People who love theorizing and sharing headcanons (YOU ARE MY LIGHT PLEASE 🙏)

Really any good person (⟟ will not dislike you or shame you unless your on the DNI list, then you're getting blocked)

If you ever get scared of interacting remember asks can be anonymous, and ⟟ love answering cool questions :)

Tags ⟟ Use On My Blog

Here are the tags ⟟ will use on posts so it's easier for you to find them! ⟟ find them pretty fun and ⟟ hope you see them the same way :)

1. YIPPEE SO COOL!!! (reblogs cutey)

⟟ know it's ⏃ typo but I'm rolling with it, this is my reblog tag when ⟟ reblog stuff!

2. THEORYS?!?! ⟟ LOVE THEORIES!!!

My theory tag for when ⟟ post ⏃ theory (As is the point of this blog, which ⟟ need to do more often)

3. bro id headcanon that tbh

This is also ⏃ headcanon blog, so ⟟ will use this tag for when ⟟ post headcanons of any kind (Which ⟟ ALSO need to do more often)

4. writers block doesnt exist if ⟟ dont look at it

When ⟟ write anything, whether it be musical remakes of Toby Fox songs (which ⟟ have hesitated on posting) or fanfic writing, this'll be the tag for it :)

5. [%$&¥] posts

When ⟟ just post whatever is on my mind (Almost like mind reading :O )

6. queue the questions

When ⟟ answer asks! You could find the answer to your's here!

7. other content that isnt the number one rated salesman

Self explanatory but an extremely rare tag to find because I'm so obsessed with spamton

If you got this far, congrats! Here have pictures of my cats :)

[miekasa]

I’m in love with the idea of twitch streamer bf eren

OKAY ME TOO!! Easily top 3 best Eren concepts imo it’s just so good and so... him, he falls on the gamer himbo boyfriend side of the scale for sure

Let’s start with his setup: purple and/or green with a dark wood tabletop. He keeps the lights green during the day or when his computer is idle, and mixes in the purple when it’s dark out because he likes the Ambiance. 

Only one monitor and do not let him buy another one no matter how much he claims he needs it. He does not. He has a TV in his room tho, but it’s not mounted above or near his desk; it’s on the opposite wall that faces his bed. Laying down and watching Netflix takes priority.  

He’s a sucker for themed keyboards/keycaps. If he finds a set themed around his favorite show or a character he likes, he’ll buy it. No self control.

The majority of his keyboards have that super clacky almost officey sounding click to them, and he’s obsessed with it. Sometimes he fucks around on Google Docs typing nonsense just to hear the keyboard make noise.

Puts in special keycaps on the ones with your initials on whichever keyboard he’s using at the moment <3 gamer boyfriend things <33

Always swears he wants to do some kind of special event or thank you for subscriber/follower milestones, but he never catches his own milestones 😭😭 by the time he realizes he has 100k subs, he’s already on 103k or something 

Then he calls you, his friends, and his subscribers fake for not pointing it out to him like sir it’s right there on your screen please. All you had to do was LOOK

If he’s in the middle of a game and he really has a to pee, or he’s gotta go do something, he’ll yell for you, and you come in, obviously slightly worried, but then Eren is just hurriedly giving you instructions, “Here, press left or right to move, spacebar to fire, avoid these, kill those. That ugly look thing to the left is Jean, and over there is his character. You’re teammates, I’ll be right back,” before he puts his headphones on your head and runs off. Now you’re left to fend for yourself, good luck.

He can be gone anywhere from 30 seconds to 30 minutes 😭😭 if he’s gone for a short amount of time, he comes back with just as much chaotic energy to take back his headphones and shoo you away as he did to throw it all on you pls.

Other times, he’ll go and make a whole ass meal and come back sauntering in with a half eaten grilled cheese in hand, “Oh shit are you still playing, babe—hey you’re doing really well, look at you go!”

When you’re not there, he mentions you a lot, because he’s always thinking about you no matter how small it is; even just the design of a character would prompt him to a make a comment, “I don’t think my girlfriend has ever played this, but I know she’d main this character.” 

Does he invite you to play a game he knows you’ve never played or are bad at with him on his stream, knowing full well he’s an ace at it and will crush you publicly? Absolutely. Without a doubt. 

There’s always a very shameless, not at all subtle shoutout to his Instagram in the middle of all his streams please, he’ll be playing a game and randomly it’s like, “Fire pic on Instagam by the way, go like that.” 

His comments are pretty respectful whenever you’re there or he mentions you; there’s a few cheeky randoms who like to make donations whenever you’re on the screen or say some inappropriate stuff, but Eren’s learned to just ignore it. It doesn’t make him happy, and he might tell people to chill if it’s excessive, but he won’t call out anything explicitly and make you uncomfortable while you’re there. 

Sometimes Connie will make a comment about how you’re hot, and that’s definitely something Eren will call out and bring attention to, more so to mock Connie than anything. 

At one point, his subscribers keep asking for more content with you (especially if you’re not there often/it’s been a while since people have seen a peek of you), to which Eren will pout because, “Hey, this is my Twitch-- now, look, you’ve gotten your Eren’s hot girlfriend privileges revoked for the week.”

Terrible at doing unboxing videos whenever he gets sent product because he just rips things open 😭😭 he’s too eager to do ASMR or gentle/detailed unboxing, he just wants to test out the new parts as soon as possible. 

Abuses his spinny gamer chair. Spins himself dizzy on it (yes, while he’s streaming and waiting for lobbies/things to load), spins you dizzy on it when you’re just trying to be comfy, spins the both of you dizzy when he’s trapped you on his lap. 

He’d be one of those lucky people who gets a cool single name user/ID. Like he gets just @eren or @jaeger/yeager, because his name is pretty unique, but I can totally see him going the typical fun gamer tag route. 

His content is anything from him streaming Overwatch and COD to terraforming his Animal Crossing island, he does not discriminate. One day you could get Eren calling Jean a fucking dumbass for not healing him, and the next day he’s doing his best impressions of Timmy and Tommy.

Do not put it past him to build you a whole ass PC setup if you express the slightest interest in one, even if it’s not solely for gaming/you wanna use it for work/school. He’ll do it. He’ll make his hyperfixating work for him. 

Plus then he’d get to give you one of his old keyboards and give you special keycaps with his initials and go on about how he’s officially got a gamer gf even if all you can do is press the spacebar <33 

[asmolemmeeatyouout]

The boys with Autistic! MC! part two ! SFW

(Bc I’m self indulgent and like 5 ppl wanted it so yesyesyes)

(Had my first proper spoonie day in a while today so imma finish this after what 4 months? Whoopsie. Sorry if any of the points overlap I’ve not re read my last post, please shoot me an ask if you want anything clarified/expanded on !)

Lucifer:

Has to stop his brothers from constantly bothering you when you’re overwhelmed (they’re just worried)

You very quickly learn his office is the safest place to be when overwhelmed due to the dim lighting and the brother deterring curse on his doorway

He has a record player and SO much classical music for when you need background noise

This leads to impromptu slow dancing when you insist he needs a break and there’s music playing

If you have your own records, the *smoother ones will end up mixed in with his

*smoother as in less staccato /distracting because he is most likely working

Very much enjoys spending time in silence with you, he finds it comfortng to just exist with someone without having anything needed of him

Especially if you’re both doing your own thing, like you just being in the room with him (playing a game or reading or smthn) while he does his paperwork is so soothing to him

Mammon:

Have you seen his horns? They’re so smooth and shinyyy, a+++ stimming material

He loves head pats so he’ll willingly put his head in your lap when you watch movies

he’s very proud of his demon form but also kind of shy so it’ll take some coaxing to get him to let you touch his horns but when he sees how content it makes you? It’s his new favourite hobby letting you play with his hair and horns during movies

(That said they’re very sensitive (like him) so be gentle)

He WILL adopt your love language and mannerisms:

if you bump people he will start knocking into you constantly, (wrists, hips, shoulders, head, any and all on random repeat)

if you like to collect and give things to people he will a. Hoard them in a little shrine (that he Denys. having) and b. Start looking for things he can give you back

If you rub textures you like you’ll find him stroking your arms/face/jumper right back (sometimes with his face, but only ever in private because he feels vulnerable using such a soft form of affection)

Levithian:

You cannot tell me this man isn’t autistic

Communication is SO! EASY!

Then even If you don’t understand you can just ask. You can just ask and he’ll tell you. None of this ‘figure it out yourself’ nt bullshit

Our baby has anxiety anyway so he’s probably ‘over’ explained it before you can say anything

(Over explained in the sense of nt, personally I love it when ppl get really detailed)

In that case he gets embarrassed about how much he’s talking so it’s your turn to reassure him that he’s not boring you

The solace you get in realising you like all of his autistic traits soothes your own insecurities

That being said your anxiety (if you have it) is matchy matchy so don’t expect him to talk to the cashier for you

He’s very chill with you being non verbal because either he’s absorbed in his own game/anime/show or it means there’s more room for him to talk about his interests

That being said if your special interests/ hyperfixations don’t line up on any given day? The bickering over who’s turn it is to infodump gets intense (this is the one source of all your arguments)

All the other brothers are kind of terrified/jealous of your relationship, especially when they see you talking about a shared special interest because you talk rapid fire and very in-depth. to them it’s almost like you’re talking in code or another language because they know all the individual words but what the everloving fuck are you on about

Asmodeus:

Has specific outfits he wears when he wants you to hug him (which is always). They’re made out of the softest material, or any clothing of his you’ve expressed a texture interest in.

Finds it so amusing when you come rushing over to rub your face against his chest bc mmmmm softsoftsoft

Likes to text you in the morning to see how you’re feeling (and how sensory sensitive you are because god forbid his outfit with chains and jangles stops him from seeing you)

Understands better than Anyone that affection and love can be shown in a whole barrage of ways not just physically

Figures out how you show affection faster than any of the other brothers

Immediately starts reciprocating it (partly bc he’s selfishly trying to make you love him most)

Satan:

Will learn about your special interests so he can engage you on the topic

Is the ONLY person in the house you can talk about any special interest with, no matter how niche because he loves learning (although he does prefer the *academic* side of them rather than pop culture but he will listen to both)

*academic* as in something involving learning about something or crafting or *how* to do something, not just like, maths

You’re pretty much the only person who can keep up with him in terms of knowledge and enthusiasm (even if it’s only for very specific things) and thus you become the person he talks to about his interests

Originally kind of annoyed by how absentminded you are (because you forget several dates) but once you get settled into a routine he starts to find it cute how habitual you are, and then realises it could work to his advantage.

He then schedules a date into your weekly routine (or biweekly depending on your energy levels) so you start to get upset if it’s missed bc it’s part of your routine. (Satan is ridiculously smart and is very much willing to manipulate your routine to his (and yours) advantage, he is a demon after all)

Beelzebub:

Gives the best squishes. He’s just so big he can literally envelope you (in other news he is terrified of hurting you so he’s very nervous at first, he’s used to huggin ppl very gently bc he is a muscle mountain)

Maybe don’t use chew stims around him (unless he’s eating) because seeing you use them will either make him hungry, or he’ll ask to see it and oops it’s been swallowed hope you didn’t want that back (he’s very apologetic he really didn’t mean to but it was in his mouth and chewed before he could think)

Literally the kindest man in the universe, if you have issues with shame or *guilt* (especially if it creeps outta nowhere or it relates to not being able to do something) he will a. Reassure you and give you cuddles until you feel okay (or one on one bonding time if you’re too touch sensitive) then b. Go help with whatever task was too much so you don’t have to worry

Belphagor:

Have I mentioned the stuffies? This boy definitely has a stash of soft toys that all have names and personalities. This originally stemmed from the fact he was locked alone in an attic for a year, he needed some form of company or he was gonna go crazy, and sleeping alone is meh in his opinion. But then he became attached and after you showed him yours? And you weren’t ashamed of your teddy bears or how much you loved them he confided in you about his. (And you had a tea party)

Problems sleeping ? (Me too bud it’s 3.44 am lol) nonononno baby boy has got you, just snuggle up to him and you’ll be snoozing in no time (I HC that being around belphagor just makes you a little sleepy and the longer you’re there the stronger the urge to sleep gets)

You’re at rad (or out in public and can’t leave) and get overstimmed? Belphie has got you! He keeps sunglasses on him so he can secretly sleep when he’s not supposed to. Also (imo) he’s the king of hoodies, both his main outfits have a hood (and you can’t convince me he doesn’t wear one of them over his uniform as soon as lucifer dips), my boy will slip his hoodie on you and wrap you in a hug to get you away from the noise/sights

(I am now too tired to write anymore, hope yall enjoyed!)

[shadowgeist-stars]

Ren x Gakushu: Nightmares

Ren was standing in the Chairman's office, watching the man pace around him, Araki, Seo, and Koyama with practiced, measured steps. His words were almost entirely unintelligible, but his voice was just like always. The same eerie, low tenor that made his skin try to crawl off his body, like he suddenly had some kind of flesh-eating disease.

Suddenly the monster struck. A huge fleshy mass with eyes so big that they overlapped one another on its face. A mouth so wide and sharply fanged that it could swallow anyone whole and shred them apart in its jaws anyway. Before he knew it, there was an agonizing sting at the back of his head and the better part of his back. Ren was somehow thrown against the wall, pain tearing against his sternum and surrounding ligaments making it nearly impossible to breathe. The others were no different, as if they were flung just as woefully unprepared into the same MMA fight that he was in.

Then he realized all of their bodies hadn't even moved.

For all intents and purposes, their minds had been violently punted from each of their bodies, leaving them as empty shells that did nothing but chant an insatiable desire to kill E-Class. If Ren didn't have trouble breathing before, he was all but suffocating now. It only got worse when Gakushu reentered the room, only to call out to Ren and the others in horror. The mix of anger, disgust, and outright fear with which he stared at his father and his pet beast nearly wrenched his racing heart clear out of his chest.

“Gakushu, please… I'm right here…”

He forced his ghostly form to stand up. Dizziness spun his vision every which way. His shaking feet didn't feel anything close to steady as he tried to stumble toward his friend. The monster over the principal's shoulder only pounced again, painfully crushing his throat in its clawed grip as he could only face that menacing, unnatural grin. Darkness was beginning to dot his vision as it blurred with tears. He reached helplessly for his best friend with whatever vanishing strength he had left, as it all went cold and dark and --

Ren's eyes shot open with a gasp, heart pounding and breathing as if he'd just endured one of Gakushu's soccer games. He lay frozen and tense in his bed, clutching his bed covers and staring at nothing but his own bedroom floor as he slowly willed himself to calm down.

After he finally deemed himself calmed from the nightmare, (and telling himself that No, panic-brain, my blazer that I keep hung on my door is not a monster that's here to kill me) he sat up in his bed and checked the time on his alarm clock.

Only a few minutes after 3 o’clock, in the morning.

Ren grimaced to himself, running a hand through his stupid bedhead. Either Seo or Koyama would probably laugh about some kind of joke related to the time that he’s almost certain he’d rather not hear. However, he just thought it was too darn early to be up, even with something like a very graphic memory/nightmare to blame.

The principal monster from his nightmare flashed behind his eyes, in its own twisted "speak of the devil." What better way of being told by one's own brain that going back to sleep at that moment was not an option?

…Maybe a cup of tea or something warm (and uncaffeinated) would settle him down enough to help.

With a sigh, he got out of bed, pulled on a shirt, and headed to the kitchen.

He knew the house well enough that he didn't have to turn on the lights. He knew every place where the floors creaked, exactly where to stick to the walls and where to simply keep a light foot. The tiny nightlights in the halls kept it just visible enough that one didn't have to stumble around in complete darkness.

Many years ago, traversing his house at night was a game to Ren. One where his eyes sported beams of light to help him see. A game in which the dark wasn’t a monster to fear, but his playmate.

When he reached the kitchen, he breathed a soft sigh of relief. He grabbed a mug from the dish cabinet, but before he could do anything else, he noticed a light.

Light that was coming from the living room TV, partly shadowed by a figure on the couch.

Ren had a feeling he knew who that was. Guess I’m not the only one having a rough night.

With that in mind, he grabbed a second mug before pulling the jar of dried chamomile from the back of a different cabinet, fixing some tea with it.

The person on the couch didn’t respond to any noise he made, which meant one of two things: he was either quite aware of his presence and simply waiting for Ren to reveal himself, or he was out of it to the point of somehow not noticing the brunette was even there.

With someone like Gakushu Asano, there was no in-between with those two possibilities.

The moment the tea was ready, Ren poured it into the two mugs, a small voice in the back of his mind reminding him to put some sugar in Gakushu’s mug. He likes his tea sweetened a little. It’ll help him calm down more easily if he’s tense or had a nightmare, and right now he's possibly both.

He glanced at whatever he was watching on TV, which was turned down so low he couldn’t quite hear it. A documentary: his go-to for calming down from a bad dream. Crime or historic ones usually mean something relatively tame. But this one’s a nature documentary; he only goes to those things when it’s really bad.

The taller boy took a deep breath before heading over, humming a familiar tune and making sure to seek out the one floorboard he knew would creak. A word of advice from a friend, so as to not scare him once in his line of sight.

The redhead made an almost unnoticeable jolt before bright purple eyes met his. (So he really was out of it to a point he didn't know I was there, or at least hyperfixating on the TV.) He was wrapped in a throw blanket and had his legs laid across the length of the couch; he was probably planning on sleeping there if he was able to calm down enough.

“Ren… How long have you been up?” he asked, shifting around to sit properly on the sofa.

He chuckled, setting down the mugs on the coffee table until he was sitting down beside his boyfriend. “Obviously not as long as you.” His smile became a frown when he got no snarky response. “Nightmares keeping you up, too, huh?”

The shorter boy only nodded once, taking his mug when it was offered. “I hoped to be able to sleep again, after getting my mind off of it… And I didn’t expect to be discovered."

Ren hummed, sipping his own beverage. "…It was the brainwashing incident on my end… Araki saying it felt like an out-of-body experience was pretty accurate."

The ginger didn't seem too surprised. "…It was partially that exact incident for myself… and also the immediate aftermath of the pole-toppling match. I still find it hard to forget how badly Kevin and the other exchange students were injured, because of him… it was so severe that they all had to return to their home countries, once they'd recovered enough to do so."

The others didn’t hear much of that when it happened beyond when the paramedics showed up at the school. At the time, they all knew better than to ask while the wound was still fresh. Then again, it wasn’t like he would’ve been coherent enough to elaborate on the situation anyway, given how he fell asleep on the ride home.

"Least they don't have to worry about him hurting them again now…" he replied finally, "or anyone, to be honest. Especially not you." He pulled the strawberry blond boy into his side. "I think you remember well enough… how worried I was when he hit you in front of everybody."

The shorter boy’s exhale reverberated with exhaustion as his head drooped on his lover’s shoulder, followed by the sound of him emptying his mug. “Not as much as I wish I did… but at the same time more than I care to admit. It’s exhausting just thinking about it.”

The brunette smiled sadly at the sheer amount of fatigue in his tone, giving his shoulder a squeeze before finishing his own drink. "All the same, we can say that we're safe from him, and that in itself means a lot… By the way, I would've been alright with you coming over to my room after you woke up from your nightmare."

That only earned him a sleepy, yet sour look. "Why would I do that? I'm not a toddler, Ren."

The brunette snickered, using a thumb and index finger to get the other to face him. "Maybe not, but it's not childish to be afraid or need someone else, even for just a little company. Haven't you felt any better since I came out here?"

Gakushu tried to avert his face. "I suppose you could say that…"

Begrudging victory; I'll take it.

He smiled as he leaned in to kiss the shorter boy. He slipped his tongue in easily, tasting the chamomile's aftermath and practically feeling the remnants of Gakushu's tension and traces of his own nightmare disappear into the documentary's white noise. The ginger all but melted into his arms, the long and lazy kiss bearing down on his eyelids with sleep in a wave of honeyed warmth. Pulling away showed a pair of hazy purple eyes struggling to open again, on an adorable, blushing face.

“I love you, Gakushu; sweet dreams.”

The shorter boy gave a slow, cat-like blink, snuggling further against the taller boy. “Hmm… love you too… Ren…”

Ren chuckled at his slurred speech as he took Gakushu's empty mug from his hands, placing it and his own mug on the coffee table. Afterwards he turned off the TV, pulling Gakushu along as he shifted them around, until they were now both laying sideways on the couch, with a red-haired head on his chest. He managed to resituate the throw blanket over them both, draping long arms over his beloved; one settling across his waist, the other scratching his scalp in rhythmic circles.

He leaned into the crevice between the couch cushion and backrest with a contented sigh. With the weight and warmth of his boyfriend in his arms and the steady whispering breeze of breath in his ears and over his chest, the image of the former principal and the big-eyed monster was nothing more than a fading memory. They were both safe here, in this homey little bubble. Pressing a final kiss to his boyfriend's crown, he laid his own head down and closed his eyes, letting sleep carry him away on a far more welcoming cloud.

It wasn’t the first time they had such nightmares, and it may well be far from the last, but for now, they could sleep without fear, and that was enough.

[nonbinarychaoticstupid]

fifteen (hugging each other) if you want? (any ship/pairing/anything you feel like) aaaa

:0 skjckiskjdshd i was going to do carulia bc AA but then i fell into the lumity hyperfixation and this was born dksjdjksdjknjf this is the fastest i have ever written for a prompt

ft amity being ridiculously soft and in love and probably a lot of spelling mistakes idk

They drop Willow and Gus at their respective homes before midnight sets in - Amity even helps Gus crawl in through his window, which is nice of her, Luz thinks. She's too sore and tired to do anything except stand behind her, watching the street in case Odalia comes tearing down it on top of another abomination (probably with teeth this time, because who knows what happened after they ran away from the warehouse), gripping her sore arm and thinking about how her heart started pounding in her ears earlier, how she flushed when Amity grabbed her shoulder and hurried her outside and had to stare determinedly at the stars for a good ten minutes before she could look her in the eyes again, how -

"Luz?"

She jumps. It's Amity - of course it's Amity, she's been anxiously hovering around her and mumbling apologies for her parents since they were sure they weren't being followed - and she's holding out her hand and offering her a small, awkward half-smile, and Luz's heart gives a funny little jump, and then a second as she takes it and laces their fingers together.

And then a third, this time for a different reason altogether, when Gus pokes his head out of the window above them and waves.

Amity waves back (She really likes us now, Luz thinks, grinning up at the illusion of Gus's disembodied head propped on his balcony), and when they set off down the street, she feels her own grip tighten ever so slightly around her hand.

She lets out a long breath. Everything is fine. It's a beautiful, silent night, and she's wandering down the prettiest street in Bonesborough and holding Amity's hand, and there's still abomination gunk in her hair, but everything is... fine. Great, actually. And Amity is smiling, which is awesome, because Luz has never seen her smile at anything like that before.

She could get used to it, honestly.

Amity glances at her and smiles again, softer, slower. "You're making your idea face."

Luz blinks, resists the urge to reach up and feel exactly what face she's making. "Oh, am I? I have an idea face? That's pretty cool, actually. Or is it? Because then everyone knows what I'm thinking. Nah, still cool. I have an idea face. Yeah. I'm intimidating and cool. A bad boy, if you will."

She laughs. (Luz's heart does the funny little jumping thing again. She wonders, distantly, if it shows.) "The literal walking definition of a bad boy, you goof."

"Baddest boy in the Boiling Isles. Lesser witches cower before my star power."

Amity laughs again. She has a really nice laugh (like, wow), and it's still making something in her chest feel funny. "Luz the Bad Boy," she says, somewhat giddily.

"Azura the Good Witch and her edgy cousin." She squeezes Amity's hand, swinging their interlaced fingers between them. It's not often they get moments together like this, and she's starting to understand now what it is that's making her heart race and her breathing feel funny, and she thinks, a little distantly, that spending time alone with Amity is going to be - weird now, and - "I'd read that book."

"Please don't tell me the next thing we do is write it."

"Oh, we?" Luz turns to grin at her. "There's a we now?"

And Amity - Amity flushes.

"Yes - I, um - a - a we, sure, I don't - I dunno, uh - we as - as in - um -" She bites the inside of her cheek, glancing away, and Luz's heart does the jumping thing again.

"Wow, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she mumbles, grip loosening on her hand, and she chews on her lip and squeezes it tighter. It probably isn't the best move, but Amity... Amity seems to respond well to it - she squeezes her hand back, and when they round a corner and officially make it out of the main town, Luz notices that they're walking in sync. The realisation makes her smile.

"Amity," she begins, and Amity jumps.

"Hm?"

"Are you gonna go back to your parents tonight? I - I don't think that's really safe. You - you could - uh, you could stay with us, if you want. Just until school tomorrow. King won't sleep on your clothes if I tell him not to, I swear."

She smiles at her over the space between them - the same soft, slow smile that made Luz's heart do the Thing again earlier. "I - thanks for the offer, but I'll probably go to Skara's. She's used to it. Me coming over after an incident, I mean."

"Stuff like that's happened before?" Luz whispers, and she meant it to sound casual, not... tense. "I'm - I'm really sorry, Amity. I'm sorry for pushing you earlier."

Amity shrugs. "You didn't know. It's not like I go around telling people. And it's not - it's not a big deal, anyway."

"Amity, that necklace -"

"Luz," she mumbles, not unkindly. "It's not a big deal. I can handle it. I've got Edric and Emira."

"And your father?"

She shrugs again, slower this time. "He doesn't care. Mom could dangle us over the edge of a cliff and he'd be more concerned with the soil density than, you know, his children."

Luz can't think of anything to say except "I'm sorry." She reaches out with her free hand, touches Amity's shoulder, and she gives her a long, warm look. And they fall silent.

And Amity's head falls gently onto her shoulder.

--

The silence lasts for the majority of the walk home, right up until they make it into the woods, and then Amity lifts her head from Luz's shoulder and murmurs, "It's really pretty out here at night, isn't it?"

Looking over at her and saying yeah, it is would be the obvious and cliché thing to do, and also Amity would notice and probably laugh at her, so Luz stares determinedly again at the sky for the second time tonight and chokes out, "Yup. Really pretty. Love living out here. Especially at night."

Amity giggles, and it's the most undignified and adorable sound she's ever heard come out of her mouth. "You're a dork."

"Biggest dork on the Boiling Isles. Baddest boy around. My list of qualifications just keeps on growing."

She laughs again. And Luz realises that ever since they escaped the warehouse, she's been... relaxed. Not happy, because dealing with a mother like that probably couldn't leave her feeling particularly cheerful, but... open. Softer, warmer. And she thinks it's because of the absence of the necklace.

They stop not far from the Owl House, in the shelter of a large tree she knows, logically, isn't oak, but looks too close to be anything but. Amity's head falls back onto her shoulder again. She makes a soft, contented noise (and the Thing happens again, and she thinks, wow), and mumbles, "You're thinking about the necklace, aren't you?"

"I didn't say anything. That was all you. But yes, I am curious. D'you - d'you want to talk about it?"

A long, almost languid shrug. She reminds Luz of a cat sometimes. "She used it to talk to me. And, uh - and keep me in line, I guess. Threaten me where no-one else could hear it. Where Dad couldn't stop it. Yeah, he did try to stop it sometimes. Mostly because he seems to draw the line at physical injury he can't explain to the authorities." The corners of her mouth twitch up, and Luz has to shake herself.

"That's awful," she breathes, feeling small. "That's horrible, Amity, I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Amity detaches herself from Luz's side, and her hair is messy and sticking to the side of her face and when she steps away and turns to face her she keeps a hold of her hand. "Come on, I'll walk you to the door."

Luz smiles at her.

--

Amity lets go of her hand when they get to the porch. (Luz tries not to visibly frown at the loss of her presence.) She makes it all the way to the door, Amity trailing behind her with an odd, uncertain expression, and then something shifts a little within her ribcage and she spins around and flings herself into her arms, and Amity yelps and stumbles back a little, and then she loops her arms around her shoulders and hugs her back.

Luz likes hugging Amity.

It's such a simple thought, and it makes her feel so strangely delighted. They fit perfectly between each other's arms, and in the half-dark, lit only by the dim, guttering light from the lamps inside the house itself, and she has the feeling that the only reason Hooty isn't directly behind them making some snide comment is because Lilith is inside and entertaining him, thank G0d.

Something like five minutes pass - I've been hugging Amity for five whole minutes, oh my gosh - and then she hears, somewhere to her left, "Uh, Luz?"

"Hm?"

"This is nice."

She settles her head on Amity's shoulder. "It is."

"I think I have to let go now."

"Nooo..." She buries her head in Luz's hoodie, just gently enough to make her heart do the Thing again, and sighs, and Luz laughs.

"You okay there?"

"Don't get a lot of hugs."

"Mm. You can still stay with us tonight if you want." ('Don't get a lot of hugs.')

Amity shakes her head. "I'm good. Thank you, though."

"Thank you for saving my life today. You were awesome. You are awesome. I can't imagine doing anything like that."

"Luz," she says, warmly, softly, "You do it all the time."

And with that, she steps back, lets go of her entirely, and practically skips into the night, leaving Luz to stare after her and wonder why she left so fast, and spend the rest of the night agonising over this weird, warm feeling buzzing away in her chest.

[not-delicious-milk]

untangle

pairing | itadori yuuji x fushiguro megumi

content | fluff, light angst, humor. birthday fic for the birthday boy. yuuji has adhd and i will die on that hill

word count | 1.7k

form | oneshot

originally posted | 23 december 2020

author's note | yes i wrote this because i got back into knitting. i know i’m a day late for fushi’s birthday but shh. anyway itafushi brainrot

Itadori hyperfixates on knitting. Shenanigans ensue. 

It started out innocent enough. 

Gojou had decided to treat them to shopping in the city, something that excited Kugisaki and Itadori beyond reason. Fushiguro thought that those two would probably faint from excitement if their sensei ever indulged them in a trip to Roppongi, as he'd promised them so many months ago, even though he knew fully well it was little more than a tourist trap.

Then they passed by a fabric store, and Itadori had stopped cold in his tracks at the sight of the multicolored yarns in the window. Peeking over a teetering pile of bags and boxes he was holding for Kugisaki, Itadori drew so close to the window his breath misted up the glass.

"What is it, Itadori?" Kugisaki huffed. She turned around and barely suppressed a laugh when she saw him staring. "Are you a grandmother now? Come on, I still need to pick up new stockings."

"No, it's just—" Itadori glanced back at her, wide eyed. "You know, my grandfather taught me to knit once, when I was really little. I hadn't given it much thought since…" His sentence trailed off. "Anyway, it's getting colder now, right? Plus Christmas is coming up. Maybe I should pick it up again."

Fushiguro shrugged. "As long as you don't go crazy. Like that time with the stamps."

"Listen — those were limited edition stamps—"

"And the historical romance movies."

"How did you — come on, Pride and Prejudice is a classic—"

"And the bullet journals?"

"I didn't even get that many of those! Gojou-sensei was the one who recommended those to keep track of stuff."

"You had to empty one of your manga shelves just to store all the stationary you bought!"

"Okay, I get it!" Itadori held up one of his hands in a gesture of surrender, nearly dropping Kugisaki's things in the process. "In and out. All I want to do is look."

But that was not all he wanted to do. Itadori wanted to touch the yarn, and then he was ogling the seasonal colors, and then he was flipping through pattern books, and then he was discussing different wool blends with the lady working there, and then he was picking out bamboo circular knitting needles, and then he was ordering cones of yarn in different colors, and by the time they staggered out of the fabric store, Fushiguro was ready to collapse. 

The way home was just as bad, if not worse. Itadori talked Gojou's ear off the whole time about different stitches he wanted to try and projects he was going to start. "Oh, by the way, Fushiguro!"

Fushiguro turned at the mention of his name. "What is it?"

"Would you prefer a scarf or a hat? I picked out this blue acrylic-wool blend to match your eyes, but I'm not sure which one you would prefer."

Fushiguro blinked at him. "A— a scarf, I guess."

Itadori gave him a thumbs up and then went right back to talking a mile a minute. Fushiguro wasn't sure if he should be paying attention or not. He glanced at Kugisaki, who was in a world of her own looking at the souvenirs and new accessories she had bought with Gojou's credit card. 

Gojou himself seemed only mildly interested in what Itadori was saying. He seemed to be thinking of something else, but he did seem to be making an effort to show his student that he was listening.

Fushiguro sighed. He really was hopeless. "Itadori, tell me about the patterns you want to try."

Itadori turned to him, and Fushiguro let himself take in the radiant glow of his eyes for one selfish moment, before training his gaze on the floor of the train.

(Was it too much to ask for him to stop being so bright all the time?)

The excitement could barely keep its way out of Itadori's voice as he described the different ways to knit a sock, and Fushiguro smiled a little, careful not to let Gojou see it. He would never let him live it down. 

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

"Fushigurooooooooooooooo!"

He doesn't have to yell. The walls are so thin between our rooms anyway. "What?" he called back, a little quieter. 

"I need your help! Come here!"

Fushiguro sighed and closed the book he'd been reading. It was a hefty tome on marine biology he'd picked up the week before. And in that week, Itadori had probably knit enough to clothe a small country. 

Well, that was an exaggeration. But he really had been spending all his time working on some project or another, and Fushiguro was mentally counting down until his inevitable burnout. 

He opened the door to Itadori's room and poked his head inside. "What— oh."

Itadori grinned sheepishly at him. He was in the middle of a pile of tangled yarn, probably partially tangled in it himself, seated on the floor. "Um, I could use another pair of hands."

Fushiguro sighed for as long as he could, feigning annoyance. 

(He really didn't mind.) 

"Thanks, man." Itadori wriggled his way out of his multicolored bonds and started picking at the strands. "I promise it's not as bad as it looks." What it looked was pretty bad.

"I just forgot to organize them when I was done with a color. I had just been putting them in a bin under my bed."

Really? Not a blender?

Fushiguro said nothing as he worked at a thick knot. 

"Brat, do something about him."

His eyes went wide as Fushiguro whipped his head around to see a mouth formed on Itadori's cheek, speaking in a familiarly cold voice. "He's driving me insane."

Itadori slapped a hand over Sukuna's mouth automatically. "You were already insane," he muttered under his breath.

The mouth opened again on his hand. "All you think about are your projects. If I wanted to possess a grandmother, I would have done so. Brat, break his knitting needles, throw out his yarn, something. I know you find it irritating too." 

Itadori pointedly ignored Sukuna's voice, but for a moment Fushiguro was sure he saw something flicker in his eyes — something like disappointment, or maybe regret. His smile seemed a little too tight, his gaze too fixed.

Ever since he had come back to life, Fushiguro had noticed that Itadori wasn't quite the same. He never wanted to talk about it, either, besides the few words they'd exchanged before the Goodwill Event. 

But these days, something about Itadori Yuuji seemed a little unsure. He seemed harder, cracked around the edges like broken glass. He was smiling the same smile as ever, but something in his eyes told Fushiguro that he didn't mean it. 

Fushiguro imagined that he was untangling Itadori. Maybe it was that he didn't trust him enough, wasn't close enough to him, didn't care as much about him as Fushiguro did him, but there was something twisted up inside Itadori that he didn't let anyone touch. 

(He would never admit it, but Fushiguro wished that he could. Sort through the strands one by one, with care and with gentleness, until he was all smoothed out.)

"Itadori," Fushiguro said quietly. 

"Huh?" By the time he turned around to meet his eyes, Itadori had already masked his brief slippage of control. 

"I don't think it's irritating."

Itadori laughed a little. "No, it's okay. You don't have to feel bad, I know I'm going a little overboard…"

"I'm serious."

He fell silent and ran his fingers through his soft pink hair. Again, there it was — a flash of something between disappointment and regret. "I just… it feels nice to make stuff for other people, I guess." And there he went again. Always other people first. 

(When would he realize other people worried about him too?)

Fushiguro didn't say anything else, but silently picked a piece of yarn off of Itadori's hoodie. 

"Oh! That's right!" Itadori suddenly stood up and rummaged through his bag. "It's your birthday tomorrow, isn't it?"

It was. Fushiguro hadn't told anyone about it though — there wasn't much he hated more than other people fussing over him on his birthday. The attention, the coddling praise, the presents… all of it was too much. 

Who could have—

The winking face of his sensei flashed across his mind. Of course.

"Here you go, before I forget to give it to you." Itadori handed him a folded blue scarf. "It's your birthday present!" 

Fushiguro took the scarf gingerly. It seemed to tingle in his hands, and he could almost feel the attention and time that Itadori had put into it. It had a complicated-looking cable pattern that must have taken him forever. 

"Do you— do you like it?"

He glanced up at Itadori, whose usually sunny face was clouded over with insecurity. Ah, I must have made a face by accident. 

Fushiguro answered by putting the scarf on. It even smelled like him. If he breathed in deeply, he could smell Itadori's fabric softener and the scent of the outdoors that always seemed to cling to him — wood and soft grass and—

Stop smelling the scarf.

"I like it," he managed. He couldn't make eye contact with Itadori — if he did, he was afraid his careful mask of casual indifference might break and reveal something much more embarrassing.

"You do? Oh, that's good." Somehow Itadori didn't sound very convinced.

Fushiguro risked looking into his eyes. "I really love this," he stated firmly. "Honestly, I'm glad you decided to start knitting again." He paused a moment before going a step further, grasping at the tangled strands around him and within the boy who stood before him. "I think your grandfather would be really proud of you."

Itadori blinked in surprise. "Oh." A wide grin spread across his face. "Well, I'm glad you like it!"

Fushiguro gestured hopelessly to the mountain of tangled yarn.

"Ah, right."

An easy silence fell as they untangled the rest of the yarn. The warmth of the scarf around Fushiguro's neck was grounding, and reminded him of the warmth of the boy next to him. 

Itadori scooted closer to him and rested his head on Fushiguro's shoulder, surprising him. Neither of them said a word as they picked at knots of yarn. 

"Thank you," muttered Itadori under his breath. 

Maybe birthdays weren't so bad after all. 

[hiccanna-tidbits]

Autistic Hiccup x ADHD Anna Headcanons

SO I’ve been really into the whole Autistic x ADHD ship dynamic and Hiccanna...highkey fits??? Like y’all know I will die on my “Anna has ADHD” hill, but after reading this post by @hobie-brown I’m like wait, the autistic Hiccup headcanon is wonderful too??? And blends SO WELL with ADHD Anna??? And I absolutely HAD to explore it more so BOOM headcanon time! Another special thanks to @hobie-brown for writing the super lovely autistic Hiccup headcanon masterpost that inspired me to do this!

Disclaimer: I myself am not on the spectrum (part of the reason I’ve always felt a little weird about definitively HCing characters as autistic unless I see actual autistic people HC them that way too), so most of the stuff here is stuff I know secondhand from my autistic friends! I do have ADHD, so I can always promise that ADHD Anna will be 100% authentic XD

~Anna absolutely gets into Hiccup’s special interests to try and impress him. The most obvious one being, of course, dragons, but also dinosaurs (extinct dragons), lizards (tiny dragons), and Dungeons and Dragons (An RPG game that does, in fact, include dragons). Hiccup absolutely had that dragonology book as a kid and got obsessed with it beyond all reasonability. Hilariously, Anna’s wooing strategy of indulging his special interests works like a charm--mainly because a) he’s pretty flattered that someone takes THAT much of an interest in what he likes and b) half the time, ANNA finds that she genuinely gets into whatever said special interest is and finds them easy to hyperfixate on. It helps that the more she obsesses over it herself, the more she has to talk to Hiccup about XD

~Specifically, Anna definitely joins a DnD campaign at some point so that Hiccup will think she’s a “cool gamer girl”--and then gets unironically obsessed with it and starts writing 10-page backstories for all of her characters. She later tells Hiccup it started out as a ruse to win his heart via nerdiness, and he absolutely loses his shit laughing.

~One of their overlapping special interests/hyperfixations is high fantasy. Hiccup is, unsurprisingly, all about the mythical creatures while Anna is more into the magic and the zesty political drama, but you dun best believe they catch every CGI-ridden fantasy movie that ever comes out. They’ve both spent a literal fortune on fantasy movie tickets, even moreso on watching them in 3D or Imax. How embarrassing for both of them.

~Another less-obvious overlapping interest is history. Hiccup gets into it while looking into the cultural mythos of dragons (he’s pretty fascinated by the fact that so many cultures around the world thought up similar creatures independently), while Anna gets into it because she grew up cooped up bored and lonely in a big house, and entertained herself by looking into the history behind some of the family paintings. They don’t seem it at first, but they’re actually both huge medieval and ancient civilization history buffs.

~Hiccup is THE most touch-repulsed person you will ever meet. This is unfortunate, as he is also SUPER touch-starved and absolutely does not realize it (I mean, I’ve never gotten the vibe Stoic was the super huggy type, considering his and Hicc’s relationship in HTTYD 1). This means he has absolutely no fucking clue what to make of Anna when they first meet meet. Anna’s the sort of person to give physical affection pretty freely, especially if she likes you--usually in the form of hugs, arm pats or playful swats, putting her elbow on your shoulder, etc etc. Hiccup is kinda just like “this is way too much touching but like??? I kinda like having her this close to me??? What do???”

~Anna, meanwhile, notices that Hiccup kinda stiffens up whenever she touches him and seems to not be crazy about it and she’s just immediately like “yo what’s wrong???” And as SOON as he admits he’s not all that crazy about being touched randomly she’s like “OH MY GOD I AM SO SORRY” and never touches him without asking again.

~As soon as she finds out touch a kind of A Whole Thing for him, Anna is like...AGGRESSIVELY respectful of Hiccup’s boundaries when it comes to physical affection. Almost annoyingly so. She gets in the habit of basically never initiating any kind of physical touch without asking first--even long after they’ve started dating, and he’s told her it’s okay to initiate touching as long as she’s not smothery about it. She still refuses out of principle.

~They come up with a kind of “consent language” so Anna can pretty quickly determine when it’s all right to touch Hiccup--because Anna still really likes being physically affectionate with him, and he does actually like receiving physical affection a lot of the time (because, again, touch-starved), he’s just choosy about who does it. They work out a system based off of small, light touches that Hiccup doesn’t mind where it’s basically 2 taps on his shoulder for “can I hug you around the neck,” 2 taps on his side for “can I hug you around the waist,” 2 taps on his arm for “can I grab/lightly slap/punch your arm,” and 1 tap on is shoulder for “can I put my arm/elbow on your shoulder.” If he’s cool with it he’ll either nod or just say “yeah go ahead.” It works a lot quicker than asking “can I do such-and-such specific touch” every single time, and allows Anna to keep some of her spontaneity. They develop this during their friendship and it ends up rolling over into their relationship, even after Hiccup has basically told her she doesn’t need to ask permission for a lot of these anymore. She adds a new one after they start dating--she taps him a couple times wherever she wants to kiss him to ask if it’s cool to give him a smooch! It usually is.

~INFODUMPING. Literally SO. MUCH. INFODUMPING. Hiccup absolutely WILL NOT SHUT UP when he gets to talking about one of his special interests. Anna just will not shut up in general, but when the topic changes to one of her hyperfixations, it’s even worse. If you try to have a conversation with these two while they’re infodumping, you WILL get talked over. Honestly, left to their own devices, they could probably infodump to each other for literal days on end.

~Despite how much they both like to infodump, they’re both pretty good about being patient and indulging the other when it’s their partner’s turn to infodump in the conversation XD They are, however, notorious about accidentally triggering a barely-related infodump in the other person. It’s not uncommon for one of them to finish a rant and then the other goes “OH THAT REMINDS ME” and sets off on a completely different, barely-related rant.

~Hiccup actually really appreciates how overexpressive--and occasionally overdramatic--Anna tends to be. He never has to try and figure out what she’s thinking because she just says everything in her brain, and her body language basically always matches how she’s feeling to a ridiculous extent, so he never has to give himself a headache trying to read her. The fact that she’s the opposite of subtle and has no filter whatsoever works great for him, because he doesn’t have to drive himself insane trying to understand her. He gets her better than he gets most people because she’s an open goddamn book. The boy’s never been the best with social cues at all, never mind the nuanced, obscure ones, so Anna’s general straightforwardness and utter inability to hide her true feelings at literally any time is a breath of fresh air. What you see is basically what you get, and Hiccup wouldn’t have it any other way.

~People think when Anna and Hiccup start dating it’s gonna be a disaster, mainly because he’s so blunt and she can be...”oversensitive” (i.e. has a REALLY bad case of RSD). Turns out they’re dead wrong--because Hiccup has RSD too! (I mean, come ON--look how BADLY he wants to get his village’s approval! And how hard he takes it when his dad or someone else is mad at him--even if he tries to hide it with snark) He’s actually one of the few people who can be blunt enough with Anna that she realizes when she’s being a dumbass but tactful enough not to hurt her feelings or set off her RSD--because god, has he been there. When Anna is being especially difficult and has worked herself into a real bad funk, Hiccup (and sometimes Elsa) is the only people who can talk to her and get through to her without getting blown up at.

~They stim in similar ways!!! They both tend to fidget or kinda bounce up in down in place as a way to comfort themselves and calm themselves down (I see them both having a lot of anxiety and generally being kind of paranoid, although Anna is MUCH better at hiding this via putting on a cheerful face). They both do the leg bounce!!! Also if they get SUPER excited they’ll do a little awkward happy dance!!! They both also tend to stim by rubbing things in small, repetitive motions--with Hiccup, it’s usually his sketching pens, his ear, his head, or the back of his neck, while with Anna, it’s usually her other hand, her arm, her clothes, or really anything with kind of a comforting, consistent texture (some favorites are rubber, felt, and velvet). After they start dating, they actually will stim with each other’s hands while holding hands--usually by squeezing the other person’s hand in kind of a repetitive pattern or doing the thumb-rub thing on the back of the other person’s hand. It’s not uncommon for them to each be doing something completely unrelated while holding hands and just stimming on each other’s hands the entire time. Anna especially really loves when she feels Hiccup stimming on her, because it’s her little indicator that he’s happy and feels at peace and content in her presence and she LOVES being able to do that for him!

~They both stim by playing with hair too! Anna likes to play with her own to stim--mainly by figeting with the end of her braids or tucking hair behind her ear. She DOES love to ruffle Hiccup’s hair too (and she LOVES how fluffy it is!), but it’s usually not a stim thing. After they start dating, Anna does occasionally stim by massaging Hiccup’s hair/scalp, but she doesn’t usually do it for very long. Hiccup really loves braiding Anna’s hair, or just playing with it when it’s down. it helps him relax and clear his mind to have something fairly repetitive and/or mindless to do.

~Even after gaining some confidence, Hiccup still has a fair bit of social anxiety, so he and Anna basically always go to parties and social events together and stick with each other the whole time to make it less intimidating for him. Hiccup generally prefers to let Anna do the talking when they chat with people, and sometimes if he’s REALLY nervous he’ll sometimes even let her kinda talk for him (not in a condescending “speaking over” kinda way, but more in like a “I can sense you’re not comfortable speaking here so I’ll help you out as best I can” kinda way). She always makes sure to leave space in the conversation for him to take over talking if he wants. She’s also incredibly prone to bragging about his accomplishments to basically everyone they know. Hiccup is both embarrassed and flattered by this.

~When Anna finds out about meltdowns (probably through Hiccup mentioning it kind of offhandedly--“Eh, sorry I went AWOL last night, I was having a bit of a meltdown. Don’t worry about it, I’m fine now.”) she lowkey gets super anxious and frustrated because she REALLY wants to help, but has no idea how. Cue literal HOURS of research on the internet and AGGRESSIVE memorizing of any and all tips that she reads that she thinks would help. Which, of course, means several MORE hours spent going over flashcards like she’s studying for a goddamn test, because Anna has never been known for her sharp, expansive memory.

~The first time Hiccup ever has a meltdown in front of her (maybe after a really bad phone fight with his dad or something? Just general sensory overload?), she takes him to a secluded room and IMMEDIATELY gets rid of anything that could be agitating sensory-wise. She dims the lights! She closes the blinds! She throws a nearby clock, an alarm, a timer, and several other objects with only the slightest potential of making an annoying noise out of a nearby window in a fit of passion! She goes on a frenzied quest to find Hiccup’s noise-cancelling headphones--and finishes it in record time! Even in a state of emotional turmoil, Hiccup realizes that Anna’s being just a little too methodical in how she goes about all this--these are the kind of things that wouldn’t ever occur naturally to her to do. So as soon as he calms down a bit and has screamed into a pillow for a while, he’s like “...did you go on the internet to look up how to help with meltdowns?” and Anna’s like “...yes?” And Hiccup is lowkey so touched he starts crying all over again...and then, naturally, makes a long string of snarky comments to try and distract from it XD

~For their anniversary Anna saves up a bunch and buys Hiccup a lizard and a terrarium!!! She gets him a crocodile skink because, I quote, “Well, they always look annoyed, they’re kinda shy, they don’t like to be touched, and they look like tiny dragons, so they reminded me of you!!!” Hiccup screams like a goddamn fangirl, he’s SO excited. As luck would have it, Hiccup’s crocodile skink is a lot less skittish and prone to hiding than they usually are, and he actually lets Hiccup pick him up and pet him without much issue. Which is honestly great, because repeatedly touching something smooth and even like lizard scales helps calm Hiccup down when he’s agitated and helps with some of his sensory issues.

~Probably goes without saying, but Hiccup basically NEVER genuinely gives Anna a hard time about her memory problems or how she’s not always the quickest on the uptake, and if anyone tries to call her annoying, dumb, or immature he will absolutely roast them into oblivion. He does sometimes like...lightly tease her about jumping into things without thinking or never shutting up, but he never pushes it if he can tell she’s genuinely bothered by it (and, again, Anna is very easy to read, so it’s not hard to tell XD)

~I’ve seen other people in the fandom HC either Hiccup, Anna, or both of them as BOTH autistic and ADHD, and honestly...fuck yes!!! I’m down for this too! I love the idea of these two disaster ND kids just vibing with each other on so many damn levels that it’s like...incomprehensible to the average human XD Like man, they fuckin GET each other!!! I’m pretty happy with most combinations of ADHD + Autistic headcanons for Anna and Hiccup, so long as they end up vibing!!!

~THEY JUST. THEY LOVE EACH OTHER. SO MUCH. THEY LITERALLY WOULD DIE FOR EACH OTHER. I AM SURE OF IT. I’M CRYING. 

[qqueenofhades]

The photo set you reblogged of Yusuf and Niccolo helping throughout time just filled me with so many happy feels and it made me realize that it seems so common in media with immortal couples that they take breaks from each other and reconnect after a few decades. Which is a great trope but seeing these two that seems to have been attached at the hip since the day they met just fills me with all the heart eyes.

(I haven't read your fanfics for them yet. I know I'm a bad fan but if it helps I havent been able to read anything since all this started but while writing this ask I got the feeling that all this rambling I spewed out is a big theme)

Hush. Bad fan nothing. We all are coping with this stupid, awful year in different ways, some of us by escaping into fandom and some of us being unable to engage with it and some of us doing both or anything else. You certainly don’t owe me or anyone any obligation to interact with our content, fic or otherwise. So just to have that there on the top. You’re good, hun. :)

ANYWAY, thank you for giving me a chance to meta a bit on the boys and their relationship and to have a window into what my brain looks like pretty much 24/7 these days. (I blame them.) I keep thinking about all the ways this couple is depicted in the TOG film and how lovely it was and how unusual it is for me to have an OTP where I actually love them in canon and don’t need to violently disavow it in order to create AU fan content with just the characters. (See: Timeless, Game of Thrones, pretty much any show I’ve hyperfixated on at some point.) I love AUs anyway, because that’s the way my brain works, but the fact that I can also enjoy canon just as much is rare for me and for a lot of us. I saw a post somewhere remarking on how the fanfic for Joe/Nicky isn’t fixing anything, which is usually the point of transformative fanworks: we take something that canon atrociously fucked up and fix it. But in this case, all our interpretations are based on actually appreciating the way they’re presented in canon and wanting to enjoy that and uphold it, and that -- especially with a couple like this one -- is shocking??

Like. Despite my historian gripes about the occasionally incongruous details for their graphic-novel backstories (which are the only things I HAVE fixed in my fics), I’m just... deeply appreciative of the care which everyone, writers and actors and all else, put into depicting Joe and Nicky and their relationship. And god YES, one of the things I love the absolute MOST is that they’re a loving, faithful, committed, happy married queer couple over centuries, and that seems to be the case for as long as they’ve known each other/ever since they got together. (See Booker’s “you and Nicky always had each other.”) These fools can’t sleep apart from each other even when they’re stuck on a freight train in the middle of nowhere, they flirt like teenagers at dinnertime and even when they’re strapped to gurneys in a mad-scientist laboratory, they make out to enrage bad guys and also because they’re just still that goddamn into each other after all this time.

I think it was Marwan Kenzari who pointed out that there’s simply no way to truly state the depth of their knowledge and devotion and commitment to each other. They’re 950 years old. They have known each other since they were in their thirties; they’ve been husbands for literal centuries. There is no way anyone else in the world could possibly come close to replicating the kind of bond they have with each other, and neither of them have ever had any inclination to look, because why would they? Especially with the fact that queer couples in media, even otherwise sympathetically portrayed ones, often have Drama and Third Parties and Promiscuity and whatever else (because of the tiresome old canard that Gays Equal Hypersexualized!), and Joe and Nicky don’t need or want ANY of that. There’s no urge to make their relationship a cheap source of soap-opera conflict. It’s the rock and the center and the core of both of their lives, and everything they do stems from that.

There have been some great metas/comments on how neither Joe and Nicky are sexualized, they dress like stay-at-home dads during quarantine (Marwan Kenzari and Luca Marinelli are both objectively gorgeous men, and they’re out there looking like that, god bless), and the viewer is never invited to goggle at or fetishize their relationship. There are no leering or exploitative camera angles on anyone, and their expressions of love aren’t posed or intended to titillate the audience, they’re just solidly embodied and natural and lived in. It’s never bothered to be stated clunkily in dialogue that they’re a couple; we just see them exchanging looks and smiles in the early part of the film, and then we see them spooning on the train after the mission in Sudan, which confirms it.

At every turn, the narrative celebrates the kindness and love shared by the Immortal Family, the individual characters, and Joe and Nicky, especially and explicitly in queer form. The villains of the film are also defined by how they react negatively to that love. @viridianpanther​ had a great meta on how Keane as a villain is especially set up to menace Joe and Nicky as the narrative representation of toxic masculinity, aggressive heterosexuality, and the usual “Kill Your Gays” trope that we’ve all come to wearily expect. But instead, after that scene where Joe and Nicky fight Keane, Nicky is shot and comes back to life in Joe’s arms rather than dying permanently like we probably all momentarily expected, and then Joe gets to FUCKIN’ BREAK THE NECK of the guy who enacted that violence.... good GOD. The first time I watched it, I almost couldn’t believe it was happening. (This goes for the whole film, but especially that scene.) Like... when do we get that?? When do we EVER get that???

Obviously, there are so many stereotypes, whether visually or in behavior or character traits, that could have been assigned to a gay Italian character (excessively dramatic, effeminate, fashionable, etc) or a gay Arabic/Muslim character (explicitly announcing He’s Not Like Those Muslims, having to actively reject his heritage to make him more palatable to westerners, being tormented over being gay, etc) and Joe and Nicky subscribe to none of those. I get very emotional about Joe referring to Nicky as the moon when he is lost during the truck scene partly because it’s SUCH a common motif in Arabic love poetry. To call someone your “moon” is a beautiful way to say they’re the light of your life, and since the Islamic calendar is obviously lunar and the holidays, months, and observances, are set by the phases of the moon, this also has a deeper religious significance.

I don’t know for sure if they did that on purpose, but it it’s a lovely and subtle way of showing us how Joe clearly doesn’t have an issue with being both queer AND Muslim, and is able to draw on both facets of that identity in a way that a lesser narrative would have denied him. And that is just really wonderful. Yes, we’re seeing these characters when they’ve had centuries to settle into themselves, but there are plenty of writers who would have forced those conflicts artificially to the surface, rather than letting them be long in the past. It’s the same way when you watch a film set in the medieval era, it wants you to know that it Is Set In The Medieval Era. Cue the filth, misogyny, racism, violence, etc! Rather than it being a lived-in reality, it has to be jarringly drawn attention to, and I’m just so glad they didn’t do that with Joe and Nicky. And for them to have met in the crusades and fallen in love??! Come on. That’s just rude. Rude to me, personally.

Anyway, this was a rather long-winded and feelsy way of saying that these characters are constructed, acted, and written organically in such a way that you hate to even THINK of them being separated, and it’s not because they can’t function without each other, but because they are two halves of a whole. We also see that the characters themselves can’t stand being forced apart: Joe’s freakout in the truck scene when Nicky briefly won’t wake up, Nicky making sure to tell Joe that he’s glad he’s awake in the lab, the whole post-Keane fight scene that I talked about above, the way Nicky fights ferociously to get to Joe when Merrick’s stabbing him, etc. For that to be given to the queer couple, where the strength of their love and devotion is reinforced as one of the emotional goals of the story, and for that queer couple to be written in the way that Joe and Nicky are, both individually and as a unit, is just so very rare.

Because yes, there’s plenty of drama and angst and pain in their lives, but there’s none at all in their relationship, and that’s what fans keep telling TV writers the whole time: they WANT to see the couple confront things as a unit, rather than being kept on tenterhooks the whole time and forced to go through manufactured or artificial drama. It would feel especially wrong for Joe and Nicky, who have known and loved each other for 900 years. The fact that their respective actors also put so much care and love into them is very obvious, and makes me feel even luckier that they’re played by people who clearly get them and honor them and know what they’re doing.

Basically: of course Joe and Nicky have been with each other the whole time, and of course we’re all drowning in feelings over it, and I feel very blessed that this ship exists, and I very much need the sequel ASAP. Thanks.

[ace-in-a-shopping-cart]

Day 5

Prompt:  Any intense emotions your soulmate feels you will also experience.

Word Count: 1,730

Main Taglist: (Send an ask to be added or removed!) @starlocked01,​​​ @spoopy-turtle,​​​ @lizluvscupcakes,​​ @more-fandon-than-friends​, @i-cant-find-a-good-username, @vindicatedvirgil, @star-crossed-shipper, @justaqueercactus, @gayboopnoodle, @sanderssidesweirdo, @the-sympathetic-villain

Soulmate taglist:(Send an ask to be added or removed!) @elizabutgayer, @melodiread, @tsshipmonth2020, @mikalya12

CW: Panic attacks, anxiety, mentions of self depreciation, mentions of horror.

Logan felt another burst of anxiety deep in his gut and sighed. This was the tenth time in three days, he was starting to be worried for his soulmate. He focused on his breathing, feeling for the familiar tug of emotion. After years of doing this, he’d ‘hacked the system’ so to speak by figuring out where the emotional connection was in his head. Once he’d figured that out, it was a simple matter of pushing emotions across it. So, he did that. He pushed a strong calm over to his soulmate, hoping their anxiety would lessen. He breathed out a sigh of relief when it did, when the pit of doubt left his stomach and his throat opened back up, when he didn’t have to struggle to keep his thoughts clear instead of giving in and drowning in the hate his brain spewed at him in that moment.

He hated the way the anxiety made him feel but also knew that his was tame compared to his soulmate’s. To combat it, he started happy stimming, flapping his hands near his face until he was grinning. He didn’t realize he was pushing his happiness through the connection until he felt the joy being radiated back. He stopped stimming, letting his hands falling back onto the library cart bring him out of his thoughts and remind him of his current task: to reshelf books.

Logan loved working at the library. He loved getting to read as much as he wanted, to have the ability to interact with a bunch of people or choose to stay by himself. The best thing about working in the library is that he got to see people’s faces light up when they found a book. Whether it’s the next book in a series they were reading, a book they’d almost forgotten about, one they had cherished memories of as a child, or a new one they were finding for the first time, he loved seeing the different expressions on peoples faces.

Today would be a good day for that as the library had invited a local author to come in and read his books aloud. Not many knew this, but he had two different pen names. One he used to write children’s books, the other was used to write horror stories with the main focus being human vs nature. Logan had researched the man extensively last night, not getting to sleep until a few hours before he had to get up for work.

The door jingled and a man in a hoodie walked in, making his way over to the children’s section. Logan watched him go, wondering what brought him here today, the reason for his visit to that particular section. When Logan saw him reach out a brush a spine, a soft smile lighting his face, he knew it was a nostalgic visit. He went back to his work, finishing in the adult section and moving to the children’s.

He saw that the tall man had sat down in a comically small chair compared to his height, his leg bouncing in some sort of anticipation. Logan felt the anxiety curling into his stomach again, making him want to curl up on the ground or scream in an emotion he was unable to put words to. Instead, he finished putting the books away and walked up to the man, ignoring the voice in his head that was telling him everyone was watching him at all times.

“Are you waiting for someone?” Logan sat on the ground beside the man, watching the way his head ducked further into his hood.

“Something like that.” The man muttered. His fingers were pulling on his sleeves even while his leg was vibrating. There was something unknown but familiar in the man that made Logan curious about him.

“You look like you could use a distraction.” He said, finally pinpointing the reason the man looked just the slightest bit off.

He chuckled but Logan knew there was little to no mirth in it. “Sure, that’d be nice.” Even so, his voice was genuine.

So, Logan started talking about bookbinding and the differences between modern and medieval Europe. He talked for a half hour or so. During that time, he felt the knot of anxiety untie and slip away, his thoughts clear, and an almost giddy sensation come from across the bond. He paused and realized that the giddiness was coming from him and being reflected back across the bond like a loop.

Logan smiled at the man sitting next to him, carefully watching him. He was no longer hunched into himself, no longer hiding from the world. He seemed to be relaxed, his shoulders were down and his head was up, hood thrown back. His leg was no longer bouncing and his hands were no longer tugging at his sleeves. He had a smile on his face and, in that instance, Logan was sure he could talk to this man for hours and never lose his attention.

Logan didn’t resume talking about his latest hyperfixation, glancing at his watch instead. “I need to get ready.”

The man reached out as Logan stood, helping him up but also glancing at his watch before a panicked look crossed his face. “Shoot, is it really that time already?”

Logan nodded. “My watch is always on time. Do you have somewhere to be?”

“Here. I just didn’t expect time to fly so fast.”

“Well, you know what they say about having fun.” Logan began tidying up the area, getting the small chairs and soft sitting surfaces to face the chair the man was sitting in as it seemed to be against the wall already. He found the copy of the book that was to be read and placed it on the table nearby before standing by the door.

The head librarian walked up to Logan. “What have you been doing with V. A. Strand this whole time?!”

Logan’s head would have spun around if he were in a cartoon. “What do you mean? Are you telling me that the random man I helped down from a near panic attack is the author who’s reading to the children today?!”

She looked at him like he was stupid. “Of course!”

Logan looked back to see the man,  V. A., smiling and greeting all the children and parents who filed in. He politely refused autographs and pictures but did allow the children hugs, which Logan thought was sweet. He hadn’t realized he’d been talking to one of his favorite authors of all time about bookbinding of all things for half an hour. Logan shook his head, perfectly content with the way the conversation went, the way he was able to calm the man down, the smile he got at the end of it. None of that time was wasted, neither was it made more special simply because he now knew the man’s identity. It was simply a slightly shocking discovery.

He nodded at that thought and turned back, watching the way V. A didn’t have to look at the book, knowing exactly which words were on which pages, what the pictures looked like. Logan wondered how many late nights he spent, pouring his ideas into words. Logan knew the man illustrated his own books and wondered how long it must take.

The reading was over before Logan was aware. About halfway through, he’d been told to get back to work so he grabbed a new cart and was at it reshelving books. He tried to listen in to the reading, wanting to keep talking with and to V. A., someone he’d only exchanged a few words with but he was already desperate to know their opinion on anything and everything. He wanted to know what he had rattling around in that head. After all, no one can be that quiet without having something on their mind. True, they could simply be quiet, but that meant they were either allowing their mind to wander or they were having thoughts on the discussion. Either one deserved to have those thoughts heard and appreciated.

Logan hadn’t noticed the reading was over until a hand tapped him on the shoulder. He turned his head to look and found the object of his thoughts staring back at him, hand retreating back into his hoodie pocket. Logan smiled. “Can I help you with something?”

He nodded. “I think we might be soulmates?” The sentence came out as a question rather than the statement he surely must have meant.

Logan’s smile only faltered slightly in shock, the thought never having crossed his mind before then. “Why do you think that?”

He seemed to draw into himself, his shoulders rising and his head ducking down the slightest bit. Logan wanted to reach out and hold his hand, to tell him everything was going to be fine. He didn’t, instead, he waited for him to speak. “Earlier when you helped calm my anxiety, I could feel a calm and almost giddy feeling as you talked. I don’t find bookbinding particularly delightful so I knew it had to come from someone else. I don’t know, I guess you seemed to be the obvious choice.” He shook his head. “Sorry, it sounds stupid now.”

He turned to go but Logan reached out a hand and gently grabbed his elbow. His hoodie fabric was as soft as it looked. “Hey, no. It’s not stupid. I hadn’t thought of it until now, too caught up in enjoying talking with you, but it feels like it’s possible. You wanna test it?”

He turned back, leaving Logan’s hand on his elbow. “How?”

“How many times have you panicked or had excessive anxiety over the past three days?”

“Including both times today? Eleven.” The statement was accompanied with a wince of embarrassment, as if he were ashamed of having emotions.

Logan nodded, a smile splitting across his face. “That’s as many times as I’ve felt it from you.” His shrug was much more nonchalant than V. A.’s was just now. “So, do you wanna get a donut from the shop down the street and chat sometime soon?”

He laughed. “That sounds nice. Although, I guess we should exchange names and numbers as well.”

They did so and V. A., no Virgil, walked out the library door, waving to Logan on his way out.

[tubbo-in-a-boat]

Wake up honey time for me to talk about block game roleplay

Particularly had tommy in my mind a lot (for obvious reasons) so just wanted to talk about why that is exactly! How this death feels different from the others seen so far.

However if you don't want to hear about that, but still want to read something about the current arc, then don't worry cuz the other half of my rambles is just different ideas as to what will happen! More lighthearted and fun, trust me.

Cw for death, abuse, and the entire arc holy shit it's dark.

Also if you expect me to be critical and negative then jokes on you, if someone speaks bad about my hyperfixation I will cry B) enjoy

So like, where do I begin??? Who was expecting THAT. I mean, some people considered the idea, but it seemed so unlikely that after everything that has happened in the story, he would just die.

One of the things that really put me off was just HOW it happened. Let alone that the fact it even happened was painful, but his death has been different from the other deaths seen in the smp. When Wilbur died, it felt like the end of his story, and despite the circumstances, Wilbur was the one who chose to die in the end. He asked for it, literally. Which is sad and fucked up in itself, but it felt like a good conclusion to the character that is wilbur, and we still got a piece of him in the form of ghostbur. Wilburs story is over, but Tommy's wasn't.

I'm going to go into more detail about his death and what lead up to it in the next paragraph so just skip to the next one if you would rather not hear it!

//

Tommy's death is probably THE most cruel death in the smp so far, and it's so bad I don't think any other can that can top that. Not only was he trapped in a confined room surrounded by lava (both facts we know makes tommy uncomfortable), but he was trapped with dream, you know, the person who abused him. It's not a light term, dream separated tommy from the world, made him believe no one cared about him, and broke him to the point he almost took his last life. Tommy was finally off his reach, finally able to move on from all the war and pain from his past, and grow. And it was taken away, by Dream himself. As I said, I trully believe no death can top the absolute horror Tommy experienced. He was stuck with Dream, for a week, and was just beaten senselessly to death. No weapon, no glorious exit, no famous last words, just a "dream I'm going to die" and then nothing. He didn't even fight back, no one was by his side, no one even saw him die. Schlatts death felt deserving, he simply succumbed to his own vices, surrounded by the people he hurt in some way. Tommy didn't deserve his death, he died alone and unfairly.

//

I really enjoyed the end of the disc arc, I think it's probably my FAVORITE moment in the smp. Tommy finally had something good happen to him, he didn't have to sacrifice anything like he has had to all his life, people came in to help him, Dream was imprisoned, and Tommy was freed. So for tommy's future to be taken away like this, it's horrible. Tommy had his whole new life ahead, so his death has made many feel either disturbed by the way he died, or sadden because it all seems to have been for nothing.

I'll be honest, when I saw Tommy had died, I straight up didn't believe it. I thought it must have been a mistake, an accidental blooper like when dream exploded himself, just a funny accident. Didn't help that Tubbo didn't seem phased by it, I was expecting for someone to come out behind the curtains and say it was an accident. But it wasn't, I still can't believe this even happened. It felt ridiculous and unnecessary, all this buildup for tommys future, only for him to die?? What was the reason for this?? What the hell??? Is THIS it?

In many ways, this seemed unfair and unprompted. But now I that it's been a day I've managed to think about why this death felt different. It's very obvious but, the fact that it seemed so unscripted, so sudden and unjust, it's just .. too real. Wilburs death felt like the end of a story, Tommys felt like the death of a young kid with a future ahead of him. It sucks and it hurts.

Well that was depressing, onto the other (and lighter) half of this.... this thing, I don't know what this is-

Do I think this is really the end of Tommy in the smp? Hell no, there's several reasons in and outside of the story for tommy to come back. I'm going to go from the least to most positive, cuz I really need the positivity rn </3

Starting with the most unlikely and sad one, Tommy simply stays dead. No revival arc, nothing from tommy's pov, everyone just has to mourn the death of this kid and move on. Fucking depressing!

Second one kinda latches off the previous point, but Tommy is seen in the afterlife. I dont think this is very likely either as it would have to be a lot to pull off but I'll explain anyway. The afterlife was proven to be a thing while Ghostbur was trying to be revived. We know Wilbur and Schlatt (AND MEXICAN DREAM..) are there, so maybe Tommy will meet Wilbur there! Except Wilbur isn't happy to see him. This would probably be a very heartfelt moment! Or they will both shout at eachother. No in-between <3. If they really aren't thinking about bringing tommy back, this could be a comforting conclusion to an otherwise bitter end.

Climbing up the ladder were finally getting to the ones I think are more likely, and not as bad!

Tommy gets turned into a ghost. If they really want to go through Tommy's death, I see this happening! Tommy needs his content guys, so Phantominnit is born :) I don't think they will be as complex as Ghostbur, I don't see Tommy roleplaying that hard pfft.

Dream brings Tommy back to life. This one is easy, and probably the most likely alternative. After all, Dream could tell everyone he can bring Tommy to life, in exchange for his freedom. This one leads to either them complying, them keeping him in prison, or somehow tricking him.

Based off of that, there's also the possibility of Wilbur getting revived as well. Wilbur IS back, as a writer at least, and I have no doubt Wilbur had something to do with writing this entire plot, so maybe he's planning to bring his character back through this somehow.

There's also other honorable mentions, tho these are more farfetched:

Karl somehow going back in time to revive him! The only proof present is that he stated that his newest tales from the smp will have "the most ties to the main story yet", but I personally think it's going to be about the eggs and it's origins. Speaking of which...

The egg bring back Tommy. Why would the egg EVER do such a thing? Look, the egg has mysterious properties, this isn't impossible. Maybe the egg manages to bring back Tommy.... Except Tommy is a bit off.

Tommy is brought back to life by Philza. Philza claims to know about the subject of revival, maybe Ranboo begs Phil to try to revive Tommy out of guilt. Interesting concept but not so likely.

Tubbo. I dunno man, Tubbo alright, he's too powerful, he could just say "no <3" and drag tommy out of the afterlife with his own two hands. He needs someone to throw the flowers in his wedding.

[demonprosecutor]

WHEN YOU HYPERFIXATE ON HADES

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11

“you really don’t need to be here for it.” night had fallen and darkness shrouded the overt violence that had occurred that day, the stars trembling and looking away at the savagery of death inflicted so callously. zagreus holds a torch, the flames casting a ghoulish glow over both your features and illuminating the bodies piled on pieces of kindling - a burial pyre.

are their mothers grieving, waiting for them? are their fathers sharpening their spears for vengeance? are their wives and children left without a piece of their family?

such a carelessness in burial, in ritual makes you shudder, guilt curdling your stomach so viciously that you near expel the contents of your stomach. zagreus, of course, did not understand the rituals of man, did not understand what needed to be done in order for them to cross the river Styx by the boatsman Charon and to find home in the underworld.

yet, he does not complain when you press a golden drachma into their calloused palms, scared and roughened by combat. only to be slain by someone whom they believed would aid them.

lord zeus and lady hestia would cast curses upon you...

you scatter dirt on their forms, cinching your pouch of coins tightly and taking a step back. “ok, i’m ready.”

zagreus offers you a sidelong look, lingering in slightly concern. even he could tell that you were not made for combat, not made for war like he was. you could only watch as he tosses the torch onto their bodies, erupting into flames and sparks floating to join the stars above before being kidnapped by the telltale breeze.

the prince does not say anything much as you offer prayers towards their safe journey and for forgiveness for the both of them, desecrating the sanctity of home. you pour libations onto the ground, a blessing and offering to the Chthonic gods. 

the words come easy, come familiar. After all, you were the one to hold funerals for your town that all perished, the temple’s priestess murdered at the steps of her patron’s temple. Blood had run that day like the ocean that lapped at the shore.

you fall silent, crossing your arms tightly, jumping when zagreus places a hand gently on the curve of a shoulder - thumb rubbing exposed skin sweetly. “are you ok? this was... i’m sorry, i didn’t--- they were going to hurt us, hurt you. and i... couldn’t let that happen.”

and the tight ball of pain eased into something warm, the tightness of your shoulders loosening. because in the short time you’ve known him, there’s a steadfast loyalty in him that settles the fear in your heart.

a sigh brushes your lips, staring at the pyre until spots danced before your gaze. “i know. i appreciate that.” your words is weary, bone-tired, something that you haven’t felt in a long time. you were never exactly the most verbose of individuals, especially concerning words that betrayed your true inner self. you were always so used to hiding behind a mask crafted from necessity. 

he squeezes your shoulder lightly, heat lingering when his hand falls away.

you think your eyes are tricking you, but as the flames begin to die down, blackened ash settling as smears upon verdant ground, something ghostly rises from mound. eight shades that stand, corporeal forms shuddering, turning to consider them carefully. 

it makes you take a step back, hackles lifting in alarm at the sight of something so unnatural. after all, one does not see shades unless they were close to death themselves. 

“he should be here soon.” zagreus mutters to himself softly, features drawn in faint anguish that it makes you want to reach out - but in your infinite cowardice, you hold back.

he does not take long to arrive, the air ringing with the ominous clang of something stricking metal and before you, in a flash of blue comes a being so ethereal, so awe-striking, you cannot help, but stare. reaper cloth drapes his form, golden pauldron curling from his right shoulder and right arm encased in a clawed gauntlet. his eyes were of melted gold, hair and lashes as white as the virgin snow and skin the colour of pallid, dead flesh.

yet something about him was familiar, in the moroseness that surrounded him, in the grief that seemed to linger at his feet.

the thought strikes you at the same time zagreus breathes out, “Thanatos”

impassively, death incarnate’s gaze sweeps over you as though you were nothing more than a bug before settling on zagreus. the corner of his mouth curled downward. “zagreus, you made it.” even if the words were monotone, it was enough to make the prince wince slightly. “you do realize that you are setting things into motion that you do not understand. i hope you’re happy.”

zagreus frowns, gaze firmly pinned on the god, “you know why i had to come up here. my mother is here and there’s just... so many things i don’t understand yet, so many pieces missing. are you really going to begrudge me for wanting to know myself more?”

the words were harsh, yet you can sense a history between the two of them. something deeper than association of godhood. while you couldn’t boast much, you are someone who knows the character of individuals fairly well, and you can tell - there was a fondness between the both of them. 

lord thanatos scoffs loudly, “know yourself? don’t make me laugh, zagreus. you had everything down there and you gave it all up for this?” he sweeps his hand in a wide gesture at the empty fields, crickets chirping their melody sweetly. “there’s nothing here. nothing of worth, anyways.” 

you couldn’t help, but feel as though it was a sort of back-handed comment to you. careful to keep your gaze pinned firmly on the ground.

“stop it. stop it. what are you doing here? if father sent you to get me back, i won’t. not without a fight.” even if his words are brave, there’s a weary tone that underlaid it, and you know that if anything, he wanted to avoid fighting the other god as much as possible.

“would you believe me if i said that i was going to harvest these souls?” he swipes his scythe lightning-quick through the eight shades, their forms flickering before wisping away. zagreus tosses him an unimpressed look, brow arched and arms crossed over his chest. “fine. that and i wanted to see y--- where you were. what the place was like.” lord thanatos looks around curiously, nothing sparking in his gaze that indicated that he truly cared about lady persephone’s fields.

(although you are indignant on the goddess’s behalf, her lands were the most beautiful of them all)

you feel the prick of metal claws underneath your chin, tipping your head back to meet the golden eyes of lord thanatos, brow arched as though to say: are you a part of the reason he wants to stay? “and who’s this?”

“Than.” you hear zagreus say in warning, light threat that lingers in his voice.

Lord Thanatos laughs slightly, “relax, zag. i won’t do anything to hurt your little mortal toy. now tell me, who are you?”

there’s a defiant part of you that wanted to seal your lips and stare back, but such impunity was something that was not welcome by any deity and if you wanted to keep your head - you would answer.

“I-- I am the servant to lady persephone. i have been here for a while...” you feel your hands shake, palms start sweating, and for some reason, you cannot look away from Lord Thanatos’ eyes, so magnetic, so hypnotic, it’s as though you were falling. until the illusion was shattered with the way death incarnate pulled back, claws tickling the underside of your chin almost-playfully, satisfied with the truth in your words. 

nonetheless, you feel like a pet. your cheeks burn as you stumble forward, sure-footed legs wobbling enough that zagreus reaches forward to curl an arm around your waist to make sure you didn’t fall. “what did you do?!” even if there was fondness between the both of them, zagreus looked ready to punch lord thanatos.

he quirks a slight smile, teasing and playful. “i didn’t hurt them, i just want to see the truth in their words. and they were telling the truth.”

you manage to find your bearings, brows furrowed and with minimal struggle (zagreus had tightened his grip, thinking you were going to collapse), managed to extract yourself from the prince’s embrace. “i don’t make it a habit to lie.” you valued honesty and in the short life that you have ever known, you do not ever recall a time you ever lied to anyone.

“all mortals do. eventually.” the words were dismissive and it seemed that your interaction with the god was over, considering the way he turned his floating body to face zagreus. “i came to tell you this. what you are doing, what you have done... it roused something.” something unsettled crosses death incarnate’s features. “unnatural things are happening. mortals that should be dead still walk among these lands, monsters cease to die---” he shakes his head, hair whispering against his hood. 

“what do you mean?” zagreus, at this, straightens, worry evident. “things aren’t dying?”

that makes something in you chill, half-remembered rumours of travelers that wander through these lands. but ... those were just rumours, right? 

Lord thanatos shrugs, “whatever it is, it’s no longer your concern ever since you left.” it’s cruel what he says, enough that it seems to wound zagreus. but nothing more was said. in a flash of light, radiant wings arching before lord thanatos disappears, leaving you both with the smoldering ashes of the pyre.

it seemed that zagreus was too shocked to do anything much, staring off into space thoughtfully. you sigh, pouring a bucket of dirt over the remaining embers and stifling them with a soft hiss.

you watch the prince, swathed in ember, eyes that reflected both of his parentage, stand there - looking more alone than ever. “was... were you and Lord Thanatos close?”

zagreus blinks, startled by your voice, turning his head to take in your form - clutching the bucket at your hip and knees smeared with grey. “I--- we--- we are. were. I don’t know.” he runs a hand through his hair in frustration, “it’s just... ever since i left, i think i hurt him.” there’s true regret in his tone, rocking back on his feet before flopping to the ground and staring at the night sky.

he misses them, you realize with clarity.

quietly, you set the bucket to the side, and gingerly lower yourself to lay on your back next to him. “i think you did too.” you say quietly, honestly as ever. you try to be gentle, but still, you see him wince.

“ouch.” he crosses his arms and turns his head, so that you couldn’t see his face. “i didn’t mean to hurt him.” a whisper.

you don’t respond for a few seconds before sighing slightly, “sometimes, we hurt the people we love whenever there is a desire for change. we never really mean to, but it happens. maybe you should apologize to him.” zagreus looks over at you, opening his mouth to argue. “not because you wanted to leave the underworld, but because you hurt him by leaving.”

the prince stares at you, shifting his gaze to the stars. “i guess, it’s a complicated situation.

“that’s life.” you laugh, pushing yourself up so that you were sitting. “complications.” you make the move to stand; however, the hand around your forearm stops you. zagreus  props himself up on an elbow, brows drawn together in pleading.

“stay with me for a while?”

oh. oh. how could you ever deny your prince anything?

you smile at him, barest hint of teeth before laying back down - “of course.” and you both laid there, staring up at the stars until... until the darkness fell over you, until hypnos cast his spell over you.

---

when you rouse at the rooster’s crow, you smell the scent of morning dew tickling your nose and groan internally. great, this is inviting sickness... yet the chill you had anticipated from sleeping outside never sunk into your bones. you felt warm, unnaturally so.

you open your eyes, squinting at at the sun peeking above the trees, on your back - before looking down at the source of the warmth.

suddenly, your whole body seems to go through a flash of heat, blushing so intensely that you wondered if you were going to burst into flames. 

it seemed that prince zagreus, the scourge of wretches and a personal pain in his father’s backside, was... cuddling you. he had thrown a possessive arm over your waist, basically molding his body against yours and staving off the chill of the night and the morning. oh gods, i never thought that your whole body can blush, but here i am.

you try to wiggle free, but zagreus huffs unhappily, plastering himself firmer against your side and grumbles against your shoulder. that was it - you were doomed to be a god-prince’s cuddle pillow for eternity. 

(a punishment you didn’t seem to mind)

at this point in time, you would be already waking up to feed the animals or to prepare breakfast, but being trapped so thoroughly meant that escape was nigh impossible.

resigned to your fate, you offer a few grumbles before settling back down to sleep some more. it was a hard day yesterday, you figured that you deserved some semblance of rest.

it must be some time later, you roused once more. trapped in the nebulous space between awake and asleep. you murmur sleepily, turning your head slightly and you see... zagreus above you, studying you carefully, face soft and fond and open - in the way that the land could only bring out. he brushes his hand on your forehead, sweeping hair away from your face carefully.

a dream, perhaps?

you wake up again, this time tucked carefully in your bed, blanket pulled to your chin and tucked tightly enough to feel as though you were a baby being swaddled once more. how did you... oh. 

“he carried me up here and tucked me in...” you managed to worm a hand out to smack your face in embarrassment before allowing the limb to drop back onto the bed listlessly. you were feeling lazy and content enough to want to lounge in bed.

well, that is until you smelled something burning.

“what the---” you scramble out of bed, legs tangled in the blankets, and tripping over them and rushed down the hall and into the kitchen where zagreus was frantically attempting to kill the flames from the fireplace where he was attempting to cook food.

fear ran through your mind and you grabbed the pitcher, tossing water over the cauldron AND zagreus in turn.

the flames flickered down into a sad death, the pitcher held in a death-grip, as you looked over to zagreus who... looked like a sad, wet puppy.

you couldn’t help yourself, you promptly burst into loud laughter, setting the pitcher to the side so that you could lean on the table, snorting and cackling hard enough to bring tears in your eyes. soon enough, zagreus follows suit, placing the pan to the side. “what are you doing?” you manage through wheezes.

zagreus snorts, smiling hard enough that his cheeks hurt, “i was trying to make you breakfast, but as you can probably tell, i failed miserably.” 

“ok, first of all, too much kindling. the fire got out of control.” you compose yourself, smiling all the while, walking over to the fireplace, poking at the wet kindling. “how about we get some more kindling and i could teach you how to cook.”

“but i wanted to cook you something.” you can hear the pout in his voice, as you both retreat to the back to dump the wet wood and grab new pieces to replace it. “just as a thank you, you know.”

oh. the smile turns a bit shy and you can feel yourself softening, “well, you can’t cook me anything if you don’t know how to. how about i teach you first and then you can cook me something. tomorrow’s breakfast is on you, deal?” you hold out your hand and zagreus takes it without hesitation, the joy reaching his eyes.

“deal.”

[bang-to-the-tan]

Lullaby

Oneshot

Reader x Min Yoongi

► Soulmate!AU

Comfort

Warnings: None

Words: 2K

↳ Summary: He can’t sleep when you’re awake, crying over the things you aren’t.

why hello readers yes i am hyperfixating away from my problems why do you ask

@teawithkpop​ and I had a discussion concerning vaguely psychic BTS that in one eight-hour work shift turned into a full soulmate AU in my head. I made myself cry writing this. (psst, this song goes really well with it, especially once he gets on the balcony)

Please enjoy, and don’t forget to love yourself.

You’re crying again. 

The sensation of tightness in his chest, head pounding—this feeling so like drowning sinks claws into Yoongi’s dreams, coiling about his neck until he can’t breathe and suddenly he’s staring at the muted darkness of his room, watching his mind carve whirling shapes into the shadows. His mind reels with phantom pain, heartache that isn’t his, a tight throat and burdened soul that don’t belong to him. He feels sick. 

Except, and this is always the weirdest part, that he doesn’t. 

Instead, he blinks, eyes heavy, and fumbles for his phone, arm made of granite. The screen is too bright in this darkness, and it takes a moment of blinking, squinting, frowning, before the symbols spearing their way through his retinas make any kind of sense. 2:37 AM. 

Holding his hand out in this position is something of a task and its job done, he allows his arm to drop limply to the covers, his head following suit with a short breath of exasperation. It isn’t your fault. He never blames you. He knows you don’t know about the day he’s going to have to have tomorrow. The promotions he’s been getting ready for, the difficult and involved choreography he’s learning. 

And even him knowing his own schedule doesn’t mean he’ll be going back to sleep anytime soon. Not like this, not with you rending yourself in two in his head. So, he gifts himself one more moment of stubborn sprawling, playing like he’s still sleeping to a dark and empty room. 

You’re crying harder now. He can feel it, that wracking, all-encompassing sense of the world crumbling underneath your feet. The fear of falling, the desperate clawing for any kind of hold on a surface that dissolves in your fingers. This time, the twinge of his heart is his own, twisted with pity and longing. Always longing. 

Mindlessly determined now, he kicks his legs out from under his covers and crawls off the bed one limb at a time, swaying to and fro. The lights in the hallway are too bright to be turning on at this hour, so he navigates by the glow of various electrical devices in his apartment, ambling his zombie-like way to the kitchen. 

2 in the morning is a little early for you. Or possibly late. He doesn’t really know—despite that week or so where he’d managed to convince himself that he’d pinned your timezone down. He flicks the kettle on, fumbling for a mug through the cabinets, some tea, still musing absently, half-asleep, on you. 

He thought he was dying when it first happened. 

Halfway asleep one late night, just before he drifted off on top of his covers, phone in hand. His chest suddenly swelled with such immense joy that he actually cried. After the initial shock, the fear of actually, finally, going clinically insane, he elected to ignore it. Told no one, hoped if he just forgot it happened, then nothing would have to come of it. A few days later, he nearly jumped through his ceiling with a sudden flash of anger, red-hot, searing its way through his lungs like righteous fire, first thing in the morning. The warlike shout that had forced its way out of him tore his voice asunder and made recording that day incredibly difficult and awkward to explain. You really have a penchant for experiencing extreme emotion around his bedtime. He’s already made the mental note to berate you for it, once you finally meet. 

Once he finally meets his soulmate. 

The doctors had reassured him that it was actually shockingly normal for celebrities to unintentionally ‘awaken’ their soulmates before either was aware they existed. It’s just a numbers game, they’d said. If you’re plastered across screens and billboards all around the world, eventually, one of the millions who pass by it is going to be yours. And having seen him, somewhere, sometime, you’d been bound to him. Emotional telepathy. The first step in ‘total soul connection’, or whatever it was they’d called it. Anytime you felt anything strong, anytime you experienced something important, it bled through to him, in the form of unchecked, unbridled feeling. 

Jimin had helped him in trying to narrow the timeframe, chasing this frantic energy that possessed him in the beginning. This manic desperation to find you, culminating in long fingers dug into his hair so hard he could have pulled his brain through the strands, eyes squeezed so tightly shut it hurt, curled into a ball at his dining room table and fighting back the urge to cry until he died from it. He’d spent three days tracking his group’s popularity from when he’d first felt you, and ended up with nothing but a sour taste in his mouth and a sick feeling in his stomach at the impossible unfairness of it all.

Yoongi nearly falls asleep on the counter waiting for the water to boil, jumping violently at the click of the tab coming back up. He pours it into the mug, smacking his lips absently, running a sluggish hand through his bangs to try and shift them out his already limited vision. The room fills with the thick sound of water, the smell of fresh tea. He takes a minute to appreciate how nice it smells, whole body stilling, eyes closing, concentrating. A beat passes. 

He opens them, tiredly, sniffing once and reaching for the mug. It’s warming against his palm, radiating heat down his hand, his arm. There’s a soft, nearly threadbare blanket draped over the back of the sofa that he collects as he shuffles towards the balcony. He pauses to force his feet into the slippers by the door before he slides it open, deciding he could just as well fix them once he’s sitting down. They flop stubbornly against his toes as he walks, situated just barely off from fitting right. 

It’s a gorgeous night. Morning. Whatever. The temperature is mild, the air feels almost warm, and the breeze that passes through is gentle. It threads careful hands through his hair, kisses his cheeks, bringing with it the dusky scent of night.

He slides the door shut behind him, shutting him off from the apartment and completely baring him to the view of Seoul’s cityline in the distance. Lights glittering across the river like stardust, casting heretical flares into the velvet above. Buildings rising from the horizon like shadowy hands, reaching out to grasp the heavens in their palms. And all of it reflected in the water, an imperfect mirror of black glass throwing the sleepless eyes of the city back in its face. 

The company had assured him it was perfectly normal to want to find his soulmate, especially now that you’d awoken to him. But it just wouldn’t be feasible. Not now. Not with how things are. He told himself that he would’ve quit on the spot, but he’s far too practical for that kind of thoughtless drama. And if you were really his soulmate, he knew you’d understand. 

Instead, he scanned every set of eyes he could in every crowd. Played leapfrog through social media sometimes, when the longing in his chest was especially loud. He had no idea if he’d seen you already. Sometimes, especially when he felt ugly things, he wondered if you were there with him. If you waited for him like he waited for you, chasing ghosts and always doubtful whether you were even going in the right direction.

He’d attempted to be casual about writing a song for you, but it took very few words slinking out between numb, awkward lips before Namjoon immediately saw straight through him. Good ol’ Rational Namjoon smiled that soft smile of his and told him with that soft voice of his that Yoongi would send all the world into a panic, writing a song like that. He’d end up with enough “soulmates” to populate a small country. And beside, it wasn’t something he could do without passing it underneath the company’s scrutiny and catching flack for trying to sneak. So for now, it seemed, he’d just have to sit here and miss someone he’d never met.

The next pang that screams through him shakes him the worst of all, to his core, and it comes close to taking him out at the knees as he moves to sit on the chair he set up out on the balcony when he moved in. He physically winces at the sensation, grip tightening on his mug, other hand digging blunt, anxiously chewed fingernails into the wicker of the chair’s arm. Hate. It’s hate that you’re feeling now. Yoongi knows it too well, it bleeds into his own emotions, muddles the line between you.

The excitement you’d clouded his senses with last week made him grin for an entire day, your heart beating inside his ribs like a caged bird.

The fear from a month ago sent him into a panic, had him packing a suitcase before he’d given pause to the fact that he doesn’t even know where you are. (Hoseok talked him down from that one; popular theory was that you’d been thrillseeking. Watching a horror movie or riding a rollercoaster. Yoongi wasn’t entirely convinced until you ‘checked back in’ a little later with a deeply satisfied feeling of content. He’d breathed a sigh of relief that felt like the first time he’d tasted oxygen in all his life.)

But this emotion has a texture to it that feels all too familiar against Yoongi’s teeth, coiled around his throat. Self-hate. You aren’t just crying, you’re losing a battle against yourself. And not for the first time he wishes more than anything that you could be here. With him. Where you belong. Where he could take you into his arms and promise you that you are so much stronger than your shadow. Where he could take up a light of his own and help you chase that darkness away, as best he could, at your side. Where he belongs.

He blinks up at the sky, as if he could watch your thoughts chasing his in the night. He takes the blanket, wrapping it studiously around his legs, tucking it into the sides, bundling up until he’s warm and comfortable and safe. He takes the mug in his hand, sips gingerly at the tea that’s still just a little too hot to drink steadily. 

Yoongi looks out over the river, watches it ripple and sparkle, counts the airplanes, satellites, crawling across the domed sky. He notices how beautiful it is. How warm he feels. Secure. 

He has no idea if he’s seen you yet. He doesn’t know if you can feel him. 

He closes his eyes. He focuses on how he feels content. Safe, and happy. Tea on his lips, you on his mind, hope in the palm of his hand. The world with his voice perched on its tongue, waiting for a new day to share with him.  

He has no idea how long he sits there. 

You calm slowly, painfully, clawing first by force into exhaustion. Your emotions, bleeding and ragged and so, so tired, but triumphant for one more night, trail slivers and snippets through his mind as you begin to fade from his grasp. 

You leave him alone on his balcony, set against a backdrop of manmade stars. His tea has gone cold in his mug now. 

He sends you one last reach, one last sliver of soft comfort, one last shared moment of pride in your strength, before he gives up. He yawns, decadently wide, and shifts upwards to head back inside, the blanket dogging his steps like he were a weary king with a crown of lead. 

[cranehusbands]

for a charming guy, you suck at date nights

mirage | elliott witt/octane | octavio silva; established relationship; fluff; movie nights; adhd headcanons; 1388 words

a/n: 3 FOR 3! these just keep getting posted later and later, im so sorry about that, but i was trying out crossplay on apex today (!!!) and having a blast, i forgot how much fun this game can be with friends, hehe

anyways, day 3 for @apex-rarepairweek, movie night! featuring my very specific octane hcs about his hyperfixations where i am (we irritating) we Projecting. thank you again for these prompts guys, these were super fun!

likes < reblogs, any comments in the tags are appreciated

ao3 mirror in the reblogs!

Preview: “Uh, knock knock, comin’ through.” Octavio looked up, only just realising how badly he was chewing at his fingers as he saw Elliott struggling into the room, two drinks in hand and a bowl under his arm. “Oh, shit- sorry, didn’t hear you askin’ for help.” “You’re fine, babe, but thanks.” He gave a small smile of relief as the runner took the bowl from him, only for that to turn into a light scowl as he watched him scoop a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “C’mon, at least save it.” “S’good.” “Too hot?” Octavio didn’t reply, only slightly winced and turned away to put the bowl on the coffee table, and that was enough for the trickster to soften again, joining him on the loveseat (fitting, for a date night) as he slid the soda over to Octavio’s side, and kept the coffee for himself.

“You can sit down, you know that, right?”

The voice from the kitchen made Octavio look up from his shoes, kicking at the linoleum of the apartment’s entrance. He’d been standing there since Elliott had let him in a few minutes before, before he’d left to go make them drinks. “Uh, sí, just… waiting for you.”

“You, the Octane? Waiting? Thought hell’d freeze over before that happened.”

Though the legend scowled momentarily, hearing his boyfriend chuckle to himself from a distance was enough for him to relax the shoulders he didn’t know he was tensing, pulling his hands out of the pockets of his jacket to wring his hands. So he was a little nervous, sure. And he wasn’t coping well with it, yeah. But it was Elliott - just Elliott, not charming funny guy Mirage - and him here… though even that seemed like it was going to be a little too much.

 Like a lost and bewildered dog, he wandered into the living room, putting his bag down by the side of the sofa tossing his leather jacket across the back of it, fiddling with his gloves as he looked around. He’d been in this front room many times before, especially since they’d gotten together, though more often than not it had just been a segway to go out on a date, or further into the apartment, either option leading to a great time… but not tonight. Elliott wanted to stay in, do something cute (‘like normal couples do’ he’d said, as if they were anything close to normal), and had suggested watching a movie together. “You have a lot of those.” he’d chipped in, but he didn’t even know the half of it. 

 For a long time, Octavio had wasted his money on any old earth horror movie he could find. He had enough of it, seeing how as soon as he burned a hole in his pocket he earned back almost twice as much, but it made him happy - almost as happy as risking his life. He was sure Ajay was happy with the alternative, though impulsive spending was hardly an improvement. But for Octavio, the rush of happiness that came with another order or just watching the same movie over and over again was what he always needed, a tie over until the game the next day, or the stunt live on stream in the afternoon. 

 Maybe that’s why he was so wound up - he was baring his heart out here, and that wasn’t something he liked to do. He was the kind of guy to keep his cards close to his chest, and locked behind threads of chains, and the persona of a man who didn’t care what people thought of him, but still had no interests outside of what he did. And though, yes, the adrenaline rush and the cheer of the crowds was enough for him… movies like these kept him company on lonely nights with a nanny he didn’t care for, when his father had his nose too deep in work or another set of divorce papers.

 “Uh, knock knock, comin’ through.”

Octavio looked up, only just realising how badly he was chewing at his fingers as he saw Elliott struggling into the room, two drinks in hand and a bowl under his arm. “Oh, shit- sorry, didn’t hear you askin’ for help.”

“You’re fine, babe, but thanks.” He gave a small smile of relief as the runner took the bowl from him, only for that to turn into a light scowl as he watched him scoop a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “C’mon, at least save it.”

“S’good.”

“Too hot?”

Octavio didn’t reply, only slightly winced and turned away to put the bowl on the coffee table, and that was enough for the trickster to soften again, joining him on the loveseat (fitting, for a date night) as he slid the soda over to Octavio’s side, and kept the coffee for himself.

“So, you wanted to be in charge of picking, right?”

“Uh, heh… yeah.” He twiddled his thumbs a little, before reaching over the side of the arm to grab his backpack, self-branded and decorated with merchandise of himself and his fellow legends, zipping it open and showing the contents, almost entirely packed with old DVDs.

“Oh, uh… woah.”

“I… couldn’t decide.”

“Yeah, clearly.” Elliott chuckled a little, looking up at Octavio’s slight frown, which really didn’t sit right on his face. “N-not that that’s bad, it’s just very… fitting, for you. Well, let’s see ‘em and then come to a decm- decrom- ...we can pick together.”

 He did as he was told, slowly giving a basic synopsis of each movie he found, recalling odd details and memories he associated with each one, almost forgetting that when it came to these things, he always revealed his full hand and heart in his excitement.

“Oh, this one is a three-parter, kinda like Saw in that it got criticised a lot for being ‘torture porn’ - it’s not… actually porn, it’s just a term for movies with a lot of graphic violence - b-but the endorsement of the first one from this director dude really carried it to cult status with some people. Oh, this one’s a Wes Craven classic- he did, uh-”

“Uhhhh, Elm Street, and Scream, yeah?”

“Sí, sí! This one kinda flopped, though. I still think it’s neat. Little boring sometimes.” He shuffled in his seat a little, carrying on digging through his bag. “Ah, this is a good one! Aliens in the school faculty tryin’ to kill everyone. Oh, oh, and this one’s got alien’s too, but it’s like… British, so there’s that - think it was important back then, ‘cos of stereotypes and- ah, shit, I brought Saw 6 but not Saw 7, I didn’t bring ‘em all ‘cos the first one is boring-”

“Tav, Tav, relax, buddy. Catch a breath.” Elliott laughed, watching Octavio’s expression shift to one of embarrassment as he deflated a little, movies still in his hands, leg bouncing.

“...Sorry, mi amor, you probably don’t-”

“Hey, of course I care. C’mere.” He wrapped his arms around the runner before he could finish, leaning in to pepper his cheek with kisses, making the man giggle a little, though still somewhat sheepish from his unhinged ramblings. “You’re so cute when you get excited, you know that, right?”

“You remind me every day, amigo.”

“I better. Just look at you.” Giving Octavio a playful cheek pinch, Elliott only laughed when the gesture was returned in kind by a soft shove. “Listen, we have all the time in the world. Just you and me tonight, remember? Pick your favourite, and let’s go from there, for as long as we can go. Sound good?”

Octavio slowly nodded, leaning into his boyfriend’s touch, the tension in his body relaxing a little at the comfort, sifting through the rest of the DVDs that he could barely fit into his backpack before he pulled one out from the back, a small grin on his face, showing the pumpkin on the cover to Elliott. “This one?”

“Gotta love the classics. You know where the player is.”

He practically shot off the sofa, almost dragging Elliott with him with the force as he launched himself towards the TV cabinet, pulling open the glass door where the old DVD player sat and prying open the case, barely able to contain himself as he put the disc inside and watched the machine eat it up. He’d seen this movie thousands of times before, he practically knew it by heart at this point, and his impression of the final girl was top-notch, but somehow, he knew watching it with Elliott would be so much better.

 Octavio crawled his way back onto the trickster’s arms, resting himself against his chest with his knees curled up, brought closer by an arm around his shoulder. He felt a gentle kiss on the top of his head and grinned to himself, focused on the moving image on the screen, any worries he had before seeming to drain away. Elliott has that effect, it seemed - enough that in the fourth movie in, they fell asleep in each other’s arms, even the sounds of snuff film murder and screams down the phone not enough to wake them from a lover’s embrace.