#and idk if its like a getting older thing where your heart starts to feel empty

[andrwgarfields]

a lot of fans are talking abt how they’re jealous of yuzuru’s spouse and how lucky she is but if anything i feel jealous of yuzuru more for having found love and someone who understands him and is obviously patient with him and hes definitely the lucky one

[fvsm4x]

S1 E24 —☆ HAUNTING TOUCH

pairing ( 𝗚𝗢𝗝𝗢 𝗦. 𝗫 𝗙𝗘𝗠 ! 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥 )

Looks like you’ve accidentally moved into a haunted apartment, and there’s no escape now! You’ll have to deal with Gojo Satoru—your pervy, invisible roommate who can’t stop teasing you in all the wrong ways.

c.w. Ghost ! Gojo satoru x female reader, oral ( f. receiving), satoru is a perverrtttttt, pantie sniffing and stealing?? Idk, nsfw, mdni, stalking, somnophilia, lovesick gojo kinda, reader is a bit stupid, Spectrophilia

word count. 5.6k

a.n/ TODAY IS MY BIRTHDAY!!

Moving into your new apartment was supposed to be a fresh start, the beginning of something exciting and different. After months of searching for a place that didn’t break the bank and didn’t feel like a closet, you stumbled across this one: a charming, slightly old-fashioned apartment nestled in a quiet neighborhood. The rent was suspiciously cheap, but everything looked good on paper.

The landlord, a friendly but quiet older man, had seemed eager to get someone in the apartment, and after a quick tour, you were sold.

The building was old, with high ceilings and tall windows that let in just enough sunlight to make the place feel cozy during the day. The floors creaked slightly beneath your feet, and the walls had a few nicks and scratches that gave the place character. It felt like it had a story, something comforting in its age, a contrast to the sleek, sterile apartments you'd seen before. You loved it from the moment you set foot inside.

Moving day came faster than you expected, and after a long, exhausting day of unpacking, you were ready to collapse. You spent hours dragging boxes up the narrow stairs, arranging and rearranging furniture, and trying to make the space feel like yours. By the time the sun set, casting long shadows across the floor, you were too tired to cook, so you settled for ordering takeout. Sitting on the floor, surrounded by half-unpacked boxes, you ate your dinner while scrolling through your phone, enjoying the silence of your new home.

The first few days went by uneventfully, though you couldn’t help but notice how quiet the building was. There were no sounds of neighbors, no creaking floors from above, no distant hum of conversation through the walls. It was peaceful, almost unnervingly so. You told yourself it was just because the apartment was well-insulated. Besides, the quiet was what you’d been craving after living in a noisy, cramped city for so long.

But little things started happening that made you pause. At first, it was just the lights. They would flicker every now and then—nothing too out of the ordinary for an old building, you figured. The kitchen light buzzed occasionally, casting a faint, uneven glow that was easy to brush off. You’d call maintenance about it when you had time.

Then, you started noticing objects in slightly different places than where you’d left them. You’d place your keys on the kitchen counter, only to find them on the coffee table later. Or you’d set your phone down, and when you came back, it would be a few inches to the side. Small things—things that could easily be explained away by the chaos of moving, you told yourself. Maybe you were just more scattered than usual, with all the boxes and stress.

But the more it happened, the harder it was to ignore.

One evening, you were washing dishes when the lights in the kitchen flickered again. You paused, hands in the soapy water, watching as the overhead light buzzed and dimmed, casting long shadows across the counters. You sighed, making a mental note to call the landlord in the morning. But just as you turned back to the sink, the faucet next to you sputtered and came on by itself.

You froze, watching the water gush from the tap, your heart pounding in your chest. Slowly, you reached out and turned the handle, stopping the flow. You stared at the sink for a moment, your mind racing to come up with an explanation. Maybe the pipes were just old. Maybe there was a pressure issue. You shook your head, trying to brush it off.

That night, as you lay in bed, the unease crept back in. The apartment was too quiet. The kind of quiet that made every little sound feel amplified. You could hear the floor creak occasionally, and once, you thought you heard a soft, distant sound—like someone sighing. You sat up, listening, your breath catching in your throat. But there was nothing. Just the quiet hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.

You told yourself you were imagining things. Moving was stressful, and new places always felt a little strange at first. But deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was… off.

The next morning, the lights flickered again as you made coffee. The buzzing sound filled the room, and for a split second, you thought you heard something else—a soft laugh, almost playful, like someone watching from a distance. You stood still, the hairs on the back of your neck rising as the sound faded.

You spent the rest of the day trying to ignore it, trying to convince yourself that it was just the apartment’s age showing. But that night, as you were brushing your teeth, the bathroom light flickered twice, then stayed off for a few seconds before coming back on. Your pulse quickened, but you finished brushing, telling yourself it was nothing.

Then, the faucet turned on by itself.

You jumped, staring at the stream of water gushing from the tap. This time, it wasn’t just a drip or a sputter—it was as if someone had deliberately turned it on. Your hand shook as you reached out to shut it off, the silence that followed feeling almost deafening. You glanced around the bathroom, suddenly aware of how alone you felt in the apartment. The air felt heavy, like you weren’t quite alone after all.

The lights flickered again, and this time, there was no mistaking the sound. Soft, barely audible, but definitely there—a laugh, low and teasing, as if someone was standing just behind you. You whipped around, your heart pounding in your chest, but the bathroom was empty.

You told yourself it had to be your mind playing tricks on you, but as the days went by, the odd occurrences became more frequent. Objects moved on their own, the lights flickered at the strangest times, and the laughter—always faint, always distant—began to follow you from room to room.

You tried to ignore it, tried to rationalize it, but the feeling of being watched never left you. Something—or someone—was in the apartment with you. And it wasn’t going away.

As the days passed, the strange occurrences in your apartment didn’t stop—they only grew more unsettling. Flickering lights became a nightly routine, always at the most inconvenient times. The soft, teasing laughter followed you from room to room, making your skin prickle. It wasn’t just random noises anymore. It felt targeted, like something was watching you, waiting for the perfect moment to make its presence known.

It started small. Your laundry, for example—folded and left in a neat pile on your bed. At first, you thought maybe you’d done it in a tired haze, but then your underwear, particularly your panties, would be laid out, almost displayed, as if someone had gone through them. Each time you found them, your cheeks would burn with embarrassment, but you forced yourself to dismiss it. Maybe you were just being paranoid.

But it didn’t stop there.

One night, after a long day, you stepped into the shower, eager to wash away the stress. The hot water felt amazing as it poured over your skin, steam rising and fogging the bathroom mirror. You closed your eyes, letting yourself relax for the first time all day. The warmth was soothing, but just as you started to unwind, you felt something strange. It wasn’t a sound this time, but a shift in the air, like someone was there with you.

You opened your eyes, glancing around the bathroom nervously. The shower curtain rustled slightly, but there was no one else in the room. You shook your head, trying to shake off the creeping anxiety.

But then the lights flickered.

You froze, soap slipping from your hands as the overhead light buzzed and dimmed. The room felt colder, the warmth of the shower suddenly less comforting. You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling exposed even though you were alone. That’s when you heard it—his voice, low and teasing, as if he was standing right behind you.

“Nice view.”

Your breath hitched, and you spun around, water splashing against the tiles. But the bathroom was empty, save for the lingering steam swirling around you. Heart racing, you reached for the towel, wrapping it around your body as tightly as you could. The voice—it was clear as day, but there was no one there.

You stepped out of the shower, still dripping wet, your mind racing. Maybe it was just your imagination. Maybe the stress of the move was finally getting to you. But as you walked toward the fogged-up mirror, you froze. There, in the condensation, a message was slowly appearing, as if written by an invisible hand:

“Nice ass:)”

You gasped, backing away from the mirror, clutching the towel to your chest. The message blurred as the steam started to dissipate, but the message was clear. Someone—something—was here. And it wasn’t just watching.

It was playing with you.

Over the next few days, the incidents escalated. You’d come home to find your dresser drawers open, your panties scattered across the floor like someone had gone through them. The first time, you thought you’d left them out yourself, but the way they were laid out—so deliberate—made your stomach turn. Then there were the bathroom moments—whenever you showered, you’d feel that same eerie presence, like eyes lingering on your body, watching, waiting.

The laughter grew louder, more distinct, as if whoever—or whatever—it was, was enjoying your discomfort. At night, you’d feel your sheets shifting slightly, like someone was tugging at them from the foot of the bed. You’d sit up, heart pounding, only to find nothing but empty air. But the sensation—the feeling of being watched, of being toyed with—never left you.

Then, one particularly quiet evening, you were changing out of your work clothes— when you felt it again—the shift in the air, the invisible presence that seemed to hover just over your shoulder. You were halfway through pulling on your pajamas when the lights flickered, and a low, familiar voice whispered into your ear:

“Why don’t you leave the pajamas off this time?”

You gasped, pulling your shirt over your head in a rush, your face flushing hot with a mixture of shock and humiliation. But that teasing laughter filled the room again, like whoever was haunting you was enjoying every second of your reaction.

The worst part? A small, nagging part of you was starting to wonder—what if this wasn’t a dream? What if you really weren’t alone in this apartment? And worse, what if he wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon?

The next morning, you woke up with a pounding heart, the events of the previous night replaying in your mind. Had it all really happened? The flickering lights, the teasing whispers—it felt too surreal to fully grasp. You rubbed your eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of a restless night. After a quick breakfast, you left for work, determined to brush it all aside.

But as you stepped into the bustling city, the lingering feeling of unease trailed behind you like a shadow. You couldn’t shake the thought that something—or someone—was watching you. Each time you caught a glimpse of a stranger on the street, your heart would race, but you’d quickly remind yourself that it was just your imagination. There were no ghosts lurking in the corners of your life; this was just an old building with some quirks.

Yet, as the day went on, your thoughts kept drifting back to the apartment. You couldn’t concentrate on your work, your mind wandering to the strange occurrences. Maybe you should call the landlord about the lights, or even consider looking for a new place. But the thought of starting over again, packing up all your things for the second time in a few weeks, felt daunting. You sighed, trying to focus on the tasks at hand, but it was no use.

When you finally returned home, the apartment felt eerily quiet, as it had for the past week. The sunlight was fading, casting long shadows across the hardwood floor. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever awaited you in the shadows.

As you moved through the rooms, you noticed your laundry basket had been knocked over, clothes scattered across the floor. Your heart sank. Had you left it like that? Or had someone—or something—done it for you? You knelt to pick up your clothes, feeling a chill race down your spine as you gathered your things.

“Okay, this is ridiculous,” you muttered to yourself. “It’s just an old building. There’s nothing to be scared of.”

But as you stood up, a flicker of movement caught your eye. You turned sharply, only to find the bathroom light flickering ominously. Your pulse quickened, and a wave of anxiety washed over you. You took a cautious step toward the bathroom, but before you could reach for the doorknob, the light stopped flickering, plunging the room into darkness.

“Really?” you said, forcing a laugh, trying to convince yourself that this was all just a trick of the mind. You opened the door, peering inside, and noticed the steam lingering in the air, as if someone had just taken a shower.

“Great, now I’m imagining things,” you muttered, shaking your head as you flicked the switch, and the light flickered back on, illuminating the room. You moved to the sink, splashing some water on your face, trying to ground yourself in reality.

Suddenly, a cold breeze brushed against your neck, sending a shiver through you. You spun around, heart racing, but there was no one there. You rolled your eyes, scolding yourself for being jumpy.

“Get a grip,” you whispered, taking a deep breath. You closed your eyes for a moment, leaning against the cool sink, letting the water run. The sound of the water was soothing, but just as you started to relax, you heard it again—the low, teasing laugh echoing off the tiles.

“Why do you keep pretending you’re alone?” the voice came, a soft whisper that sent chills down your spine. It was unmistakably playful, dripping with a teasing quality that made your skin prickle.

You froze, eyes wide as you scanned the room for the source of the voice. “Who’s there?” you asked, but the only response was the echo of your voice bouncing off the bathroom walls.

The air grew thick with tension, and you stepped back, your pulse pounding in your ears. “This isn’t funny!” you shouted, though the sound felt hollow, almost weak in the empty space.

“Not funny? I think it’s hilarious,” the voice replied, the amusement clear in its tone. “I love watching you squirm.”

Your breath hitched as a wave of heat rushed to your cheeks. Was someone—something—really watching you? The realization sent a shiver down your spine, and you stepped out of the bathroom, retreating into the safety of your living room.

But as you turned to leave, you caught a glimpse of movement in your peripheral vision. You whipped around just in time to see a flicker of white—was that a figure?—before it disappeared. Your heart raced, and you fought the urge to scream. You were alone, yet you couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren’t.

“I know you’re there!” you called out, trying to sound brave, though your voice wavered slightly. “Show yourself!”

In response, the only sound that met your challenge was a soft, breathy laughter that echoed through the apartment, taunting you from the shadows. You took a shaky step back, your heart racing as you glanced around, the flickering lights dimming again and casting eerie shapes that danced along the walls.

The silence that followed felt heavy, almost oppressive, and you could sense the presence lingering just out of sight. A chill raced down your spine, and you couldn’t help but feel that he was watching you, delighting in your unease. The knowledge that you weren’t alone gnawed at the edges of your mind, both thrilling and terrifying.

Eventually, you managed to muster the courage to retreat to your bedroom. You turned off the light, hoping to banish the creeping dread that had settled in your chest. As you slipped into your pajamas, you tried to convince yourself that this was all just a figment of your imagination—a bad dream that would dissipate with the morning light.

But as you jumped under the covers, cocooning yourself in the warm fabric, the shadows seemed to close in around you. You closed your eyes tightly, willing yourself to fall asleep and hoping that when you woke, everything would be back to normal.

As you lay in bed, the tension of the evening began to fade, your eyelids growing heavy. The soft rhythm of your breathing filled the silence of the room, and you felt yourself slipping into a dreamless sleep, the haunting presence momentarily forgotten.

But as the night deepened, a cool draft swept through the room, carrying with it an almost palpable energy. The covers at your feet began to stir, slowly pushed aside by an unseen force. You stirred slightly, a soft sigh escaping your lips, but you didn’t wake.

Gojo, unseen but very much present, hovered just above your bed, his gaze fixed on your peaceful form. The way the soft glow of the moonlight illuminated your features made his heart race with an intensity he hadn’t expected. He watched, entranced, as you slept, your chest rising and falling rhythmically, your hair spilling over the pillow like a dark waterfall.

Unable to resist, he reached out, his hand brushing lightly against your cheek. The warmth of your skin sent a thrill through him, and he admired how serene you looked, completely unaware of his presence. He traced a finger along your jawline, careful not to disturb you, savoring the softness beneath his touch.

His fingers then moved down, grazing over your stomach, feeling the gentle rise and fall as you breathed. He marveled at the way your body seemed to relax into the sheets, completely trusting and vulnerable. With each touch, he felt an intoxicating mix of desire and reverence, appreciating the intimate moment without wanting to push too far.

He continued to explore, his fingers trailing to your waist, brushing against the fabric of your pajamas. The urge to pull you closer—to bridge the gap between the living and the dead—was overwhelming, but he held himself back, content to admire from a distance. The thrill of his touch, though fleeting, made his heart race, and he found himself captivated by the way you responded to his gentle caresses, even in your sleep.

Gojo continued to trace the delicate curves of your body, he felt an overwhelming surge of desire wash over him. The way you lay there, so innocent and unguarded, ignited something deep within him—an intense craving that surged like a tide. His heart raced as he let his fingers linger on your waist, the warmth of your skin contrasting sharply with his cold touch.

He bit his lip, trying to suppress the instinctual urge to claim you. But the sight of you sprawled across the sheets, completely unaware of his presence, stirred something primal within him. It was maddening; every time he looked at you, a rush of lust clouded his thoughts. He shifted slightly, feeling his body react involuntarily to the intoxicating combination of desire and admiration.

Gojo’s breath hitched as he fought to maintain control, his gaze tracing over your form, lingering on the way your body rose and fell with each breath. The fabric of your pajamas hugged you in all the right places, teasing him with the promise of what lay beneath. The mere thought of how easily he could pull those soft fabrics away made his pulse quicken, and he felt himself hardening at the thought.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured to himself, a hint of desperation lacing his tone. The tension in the air felt electric, charged with unspoken possibilities. His hand drifted lower, fingertips brushing along the soft material of your pajama top, teasing the edge of the hem as if tempted to explore further.

Every part of him wanted to surrender to the desire that throbbed in his chest, to take you right then and there. But he held back, reveling in the sheer thrill of the moment. Watching you, the way you sighed softly in your sleep, sent shivers through him, both thrilling and torturous. He knew he should stop, but the more he watched, the more he felt himself losing control.

His hand ventured lower, brushing the edge of your pajama pants, the fabric soft beneath his fingertips. The contact sent a rush of warmth through him, and he couldn't help but marvel at how delicate you seemed, wrapped up in the cocoon of your blankets. His fingers lingered just above the waistband, hesitant yet curious, feeling the gentle curve of your hips.

With each slow movement, he could feel the heat radiating from your skin, intoxicating him further. He traced the outline of your body, the subtle dips and rises that made you uniquely you, savoring the sensation of your warmth beneath his touch. You shifted slightly in your sleep, a soft sigh escaping your lips as if responding to his caress, igniting a thrill deep within him.

He hesitated for a moment, the line between admiration and temptation blurring in the shadows of the room. As his fingers inched closer to your skin, he felt a mix of excitement and restraint. He wanted to touch you, to explore the contours of your body fully, yet there was a profound respect for your innocence, a desire to revel in the moment without overstepping boundaries.

The fabric of your pajama pants was thin, and he could almost feel the warmth of your skin just beneath it. He let his fingers trail along the edge, teasingly close to crossing that invisible line. The sensation of his touch made the air thick with tension, electric and charged, as if the very atmosphere around you was aware of the forbidden intimacy unfolding in the dark. He slowly pushed your pants down—carefully to not wake you up

As your pants slipped down to your ankles and fell to the floor, the cool air kissed your skin, stirring you from the depths of your dreams. In your slumber, you remained blissfully unaware, lost in a world where nothing could touch you.

Gojo’s hand moved with practiced ease, slipping around your thighs and gently coaxing them apart. The sensation was electric, even in your sleep, as if some part of you sensed the shift in the atmosphere. His touch was teasing, almost reverent, as he revealed the delicate blue panties you wore, adorned with a tiny bow at the front.

The fabric clung to your folds, accentuating the softness of your skin. A subtle dampness had formed between your folds, making the material slightly sheer, hinting at your body's response to his presence. It was a testament to the tension that crackled in the air, as he admired the way the panties hugged you perfectly, creating a contrast that was both innocent and alluring.

Gojo's gaze was fixed on you, his expression a mixture of desire and fascination. He reveled in the sight of you, so trusting and vulnerable in your sleep, completely unaware of his hungry admiration.

Gojo breathed out heavily, a small smirk forming at his lips as he grinned. “Someone must be having a great dream,” he thought to himself, his amusement mixing with a thrill of desire. Slowly, he let his fingertip glide over the wet spot, the material yielding slightly under his touch, sending a jolt of excitement through him.

You stirred slightly, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you instinctively shifted deeper into the warmth of your blankets. In that moment, Gojo took the opportunity to slip your panties to the side, his breath catching as your skin was revealed to him. The sight was intoxicating, and he couldn’t help but admire how beautiful you looked, even in your slumber.

Leaning in closer, he lowered himself onto his elbows, his nose brushing against the soft skin of your inner thigh. He inhaled deeply, drawn in by your sweet, intoxicating scent that enveloped him like a warm embrace. It was fresh and alluring, igniting a primal urge within him that he struggled to contain.

The temptation became too much to bear; he felt himself losing control. His tongue flicked out, brushing against your warm skin, and you instinctively arched into him, a soft whimper escaping your mouth as your subconscious recognized the sensation. The initial touch of his wet tongue against you sent shockwaves of heat spiraling through your body, stirring you from your dreams.

As you began to wake, you felt a warm rush in your lower stomach, a heat building that made you blush even more. Your eyes fluttered open, confusion mingling with a strange sense of desire. The realization of what was happening hit you like a bolt of lightning, and you shot upright, your hand instinctively tangling in Gojo’s hair as your body reacted to the sensations he was creating.

You gasped, your breath hitching in your throat as his tongue expertly flicked against your sensitive skin, sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through you. It was a mix of surprise and undeniable pleasure, and you couldn’t help but moan softly, the sound escaping before you could stop it.

Gojo’s heart raced at the sound, his instincts driving him further into the moment as he continued to explore, tasting you with a fervor that only intensified your reaction.

Your heart raced as you tugged on his hair, a mix of confusion and overwhelming desire coursing through you. Gojo responded to your pull, the sensation igniting a fire in him as he continued his ministrations, licking and teasing with an expert touch. You gasped, the sound echoing softly in the dim light of the room, a testament to the intensity of your awakening.

You were torn between pleasure and confusion, your mind racing to comprehend the whirlwind of sensations and the reality of the situation. Who was this man? How did he get into your apartment? You had convinced yourself that the flickering lights and eerie shadows were mere figments of your imagination, a result of moving into a new place. Yet, here he was—intimate and insistent, his warm breath brushing against your skin.

“W-What’s happening?” you stammered, still gripping his hair as your body betrayed your mind, yearning for more despite the chaotic thoughts swirling around. “Who are you?”

Gojo paused for a moment, his blue eyes locking onto yours, a mixture of amusement and hunger dancing in their depths. “I’m your roommate who is enjoying the view,” he said with a teasing smile, leaning in closer, making your breath hitch.

“A roommate?” You shook your head, trying to clear the fog of pleasure clouding your thoughts. “I don‘t have a roommate! I live here alone..”

His laughter echoed softly in the room, a sound that sent another shiver of confusion down your spine. “You really think you’re alone in this apartment?” he replied, his voice low and playful, as if he reveled in your bewilderment. “I’ve been here all along, I thought that was obvious cause i spoke to you”

As the weight of his words sank in, the unease in your stomach twisted. The flickering lights, the shadows that danced along the walls—they suddenly felt more significant. Was it possible that you had unknowingly welcomed him into your life, this alluring presence who now had you caught in a web of confusion and desire?

You opened your mouth to protest, to question further, but another wave of pleasure washed over you as he resumed his teasing, his tongue flicking against your most sensitive spots. You felt the tension coiling tighter, each flick sending waves of heat crashing over you, making it hard to think straight.

“Don’t think too hard,” Gojo murmured, his voice dripping with mischief. “Just enjoy the moment. ”

His words twisted in your mind. You had never considered wanting something like this. The mixture of fear and pleasure churned within you, creating a heady cocktail that left you dizzy. “No, I—” you started, but the protest faltered as his tongue continued its wicked dance, sending another gasp from your lips

He looked up at you with an impish grin, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “You smell so good.. I couldn’t help myself.”

The playful tone in his voice only heightened the tension. You felt a blush creeping across your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and something else—something intoxicating that made you want to lean into him. The softness of your sheets contrasted with the heat building between your legs, and you could hardly think straight.

As he continued to work his tongue, you couldn’t help but arch your back, instinctively seeking more of that delightful sensation. Each flick and swirl of his tongue ignited every nerve ending in your body, drawing soft moans from your lips. It was as if he had uncovered a hidden part of you that yearned to be explored.

“Does it feel good?” Gojo asked teasingly, pausing for just a moment to allow you to respond, his breath tickling your skin.

You could only nod, a desperate sound escaping you as the tension inside you coiled tighter. The world around you faded into nothingness, leaving just the two of you in this charged moment. He watched you with a hungry gaze, taking in every reaction, every sigh, as if he were memorizing your body’s responses.

“Just relax,” he encouraged, his voice a soothing balm that only added to the pleasure. “You’re so pretty”

With that, he resumed his teasing, his focus unwavering. You surrendered to the sensations washing over you, losing yourself in the warmth and intimacy of the moment, every heartbeat echoing the unspoken connection that lingered in the air.

A low moan escaped your lips, unbidden, as his tongue slipped inside you. The sensation was overwhelming, a flood of heat radiating through your body. Your fingers instinctively tightened their grip on his soft, white hair, tugging at the strands as your hips bucked involuntarily in response to the maddening rhythm he set. Each flick of his tongue sent ripples of pleasure coursing through you, your breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps.

Gojo’s presence was both commanding and teasing, his movements deliberate, savoring every reaction he drew from you. He pulled away momentarily, the cool air of the room brushing against your heated skin, and your eyes fluttered open just in time to meet his gaze. Those piercing blue eyes were filled with a dark amusement, a predatory gleam in them that made your pulse quicken.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he whispered, his voice low and reverent, as if he were admiring something rare and precious. The words sent a shiver down your spine, the heat inside you pooling deeper, igniting a fire that you couldn’t control. Before you could respond, his mouth was on you again, more insistent this time, his tongue working with a skill that left you trembling.

The room around you seemed to fade, the only thing anchoring you to reality being the intensity of the moment. Every nerve in your body felt alive, hyperaware of his every touch, every subtle shift. Your hands clutched his hair even tighter, a quiet whimper escaping you as you felt the tension coil tighter and tighter in your core.

You could barely form a coherent thought, lost in the sensation as he continued his assault on your senses. With each pass of his tongue, the pressure built until it became unbearable, and then, like a wave crashing over you, the release came in an overwhelming rush.

Your body arched, your breath catching as the climax tore through you, leaving you gasping for air. For a moment, time seemed to stop, your senses overloaded with the heat, the electricity, the overwhelming pleasure that left you shaking. He didn’t stop, though—his eyes never leaving yours, watching as you unraveled beneath him, fully aware of the power he held over you.

Your body finally relaxed, sinking back into the bed as the aftershocks rippled through you, your grip on his hair loosening. Gojo lifted his head, his lips glistening with evidence of what he’d just done, and that smirk returned, lazy and satisfied.

As your breathing slowly returned to normal, your body still trembling from the intensity of what had just happened, you blinked your eyes open. The warmth of what had just transpired lingered in the air, but something was missing. The weight of his presence—his hands, his body, the heat of his breath against your skin—had vanished.

You lifted your head, blinking through the dim light of the room. Where was he? Your heart pounded, a mix of confusion and unease settling in. You were sure you hadn’t imagined it—every touch had felt so real, so intense—but now, he was gone. Completely.

You sat up slowly, the sheets rustling as you scanned the room. The lamp on your bedside table flickered again, casting long, eerie shadows that seemed to shift with every second. The unsettling quiet that filled the space made your skin prickle. He’d been here—right here, between your legs—but now there was nothing, not even a sound to suggest he had ever existed.

Had he left? Was he still watching?

A faint breeze seemed to brush past you, chilling the room even further. You wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly hyper-aware of your bare skin, of how exposed you were.

Just then, you heard it—the softest of sounds, a quiet, almost mocking laugh. It was close, impossibly close, yet no one was there. You shivered, your eyes darting around the room, searching for any sign of movement, any clue to his whereabouts. But there was nothing.

“Satoru Gojo. Remember the name, sweetheart. You’ll be hearing it a lot.”

🏷️: @sadmonke @collectionofdolls @1t4d0r1 @glazedtear @madamechrissy

[the-kingshound]

Warning inane ramble incoming, it’ll probably be annoying I apologize. (*_ _)人 I spent the last several days reading every post here. I managed to convince myself to start liking some (sorry about that I’m sure it was annoying to get all those notifications) I have this weird thing where I get nervous about liking older posts cuz I mean it’s been a long time and it’s unprompted so that’s weird right? It feels weird like I’m doing something wrong or I’m being annoying, I considered reblogging too but somehow that felt worse? Sorry I am not good with social rules they confuse me both on and offline Idk my brain is wrong and I’m just a nervous socially anxious snail. (＞﹏＜)

Anyways just wanted to gush about how much I love it here and I’m never leaving (´꒳`) ♡ First and foremost Yniol has a special place in my heart they will forever be my favorite bestie (*＾ω＾)人(＾ω＾*), yes I am biased as my partner is grey and though they don’t play IFs they were thrilled to learn about your character! Also your writing is just phenomenal, your fans are fun and creative, your characters give such warm and positive energy I love them so much they’re perfect, the inclusivity is such chefs kiss ( ´ з `) 🤌🏻✨, the angst is delicious, the fluff is so sweet and comforting, the spice is ... very blush-worthy (⁄ ⁄>⁄ ▽ ⁄<⁄ ⁄). This has been a journey I laughed, I cried, I giggled, and I blushed and I have enjoyed every bit of it from pasta discourse to Moldien cult wars to Arthur bunnies, I’ve had the most wonderful time. Now my mind is gonna be filled with Arthurian stuff for months my maladaptive daydreaming is having the time of its life I have a road trip next week and I’m so looking forward to just staring out a window for 6+hours while my Hound's just alternating daydream adventures with the cast o(≧▽≦)o. Also speaking of your amazingly wonderful, sweet, and supportive cast I have decided my (though I love them all) favorite poly pairings are Arthur/Morien and whole crew polycule I’d sell my soul for those but I 100% understand why you can’t really do that. I don’t think I have the endurance in me to code a single poly no matter how much I wish it so the fact you’re doing any let alone several is just god tier you are awe inspiring.

Alas I have rambled far far to much I wish I could be more eloquent in expressing just how much I enjoyed experiencing all of this but for now this is the best I can do (╥ω╥). Thank you for sharing your wonderful work it’s truly a gift to experience. ଘ(੭ˊ꒳​ˋ)੭✧ I wish you wealth, health, and all the best in all your creative endeavors. -🐌

No, please please do not apologize. You made my entire week <3 This ask is straight up going into the folder where i keep my motivation to write and to be just a little proud of my work, thank you so so much for sending it.

For anyone having the same thoughts about liking or reblogging old posts: please do it. When I see the notifications, get very giddy and pleased, and I hope you are enjoying the food. Liking, and especially reblogging things, even more so if you add tags and reactons, not only fills me with glee but it also reminds me of old asks that I want to reblog again for new followers. So yeah, I love it, please feel free to go on a liking/reblogging spree!

You are so relatable for the maladaptive daydreaming (this game was absolutely born out of my own mental movies), I wish I could speed up the writing and editing for the next update so you can read it while you travel but I'm afraid it's a lost cause (I have been working on things, even now, but I am currently rewriting like half of it and while it is way better it takes sooo much time and energy). Knowing my characters and story are in someone's thoughts it the best kind of reward I need. I will never likely monetise this game, so this is the thing I wish to leave people with, and I hope the characters can be comforting and keep you company <3

You have no idea how much I would love to write the full polycule... maybe one day :,) But don't lose hope for the Arthur/Morien poly yet, as I decided to cancel the Gwyar/Morien poly and now I have a potentially free slot. In any case, awww, please know that this ask made me so happy today and will be in my thoughts as tkh is in yours.

Please have a lovely day and a lovely week and also a very lovely trip! Thank you again so so much!!

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

A/N = I've been on a really weird music kick - for me, anyway. Stuff like Otis Redding, Etta James, Solomon Burke, Bill Withers. And originally, I had Sanemi as the leading man. This goes along with For The Record a little bit in that the music is similar. I may keep trying to work on these damn things until I feel like I've gotten it right. Maybe I'll start a small collection or something where these older songs inspire me to write. Idk. Funny blip, I actually typed out 'Nemi at one part instead of 'Nami. Could you imagine? Living with both men, fucking Nanami and you say 'Nemi or the other way around. Sanemi and say 'Nami. They're so close. It's the perfect threesome. Hmm.

C/W = Sex. Overused italics. Spanking with panties. Nothing too horrific. But ... MDNI.

Sir 'Nami

You stood at the kitchen sink, mindlessly preparing the green beans you were going to cook with dinner. Your favorite mix, the one Nanami made for you, was playing over the inlaid speakers in the ceiling as you swung your hips from side-to-side to Misty Blue.

Nanami had good taste in everything; Clothes, music, cars, houses, investments. Right down to his toothpaste.

You were about halfway through the bag of beans when the garage door opened.

He was home at 5:19, just like he always was. Unless he had to put in some overtime.

He pulled into the driveway, ready to park the car away for the weekend, gathered up his briefcase and anything else he'd need and came in through the door to the side entryway.

You never cease to amaze him.

At first it was day after day, then weeks turned to months and months turned to years. Tonight is your 5 year anniversary and you still look at him with that same warm, sweet smile when he comes in and kicks off his work shoes for his house slippers.

He looks forward to it every evening. And he's elated every evening when he sees you standing there to greet him.

You act like newlyweds whenever you're together. In public places or in the privacy of your own home. Always kissing on the other, holding waists and hands, interlocking arms as the pair of you cross the street.

"Smells good, swee'heart." Nanami says as he stands behind you and joins you in the swaying. Turn Me On now playing softly through the air.

"Thank you, 'Nami. I missed you today, y'know that?" You said, turning around to face him.

He leaned down and put his head in the crook of your neck and took a deep breath in. "I'll never get over how lucky I am to have landed you, y'know that?" His arms wrapped around your aproned body; one around your waist, the other on your butt.

You pulled your head to the side and looked at him quizzically. "How you ... landed me?"

He kept his face in your neck, not bothered by the weird look you gave him. He didn't want to have to defend his choices to the woman he loved with all of his heart.

"Hmmm mhmm." He hummed. "You just have to accept it, darling. I'm the lucky one here."

Your arms made their way to rest around his neck, the two of you still swaying together. 'Crazy' by Patsy Cline, filling your ears as you stood with your husband in your custom-built home that he gave to you on your wedding night.

"I have to accept it, huh?" You said playfully as you nudged his face with your nose to rest against yours. "Well, you are the man of the house. Whatever you say goes, I s'pose."

"I may be the man of the house, but you're queen of the castle."

He untied the apron strings from where they sat at your belly and hung it carefully in the pantry. A place for everything and everything in its place, he'd always say.

"Whoo! 'Nami!" He scooped you up in his arms and carried you bridal-style to your king size bed. Laying you down so gently like you'd break any other way he released you from his hold.

"It's Friday, my love." He said just as calmly as he'd say anything else. "We have the whole weekend to do whatever we want." He kissed between the knuckles on your hands, looking up at you as his lips brushed your soft skin there.

You played dumb. "I - no, it's Thursday, 'Nami. You're losing your mind. Come, let me show you the calendar."

He pulled you back down as you tried to stand from the bed.

"Mm-mm. I know it's Friday. I have been living for this day since Sunday. Now," he began to nuzzle into your chest and kiss your collarbone, "what sort of trouble can we get ourselves into this weekend?"

He had the dress pulled down off of your shoulder by now. Licking little circles into your exposed skin before he kisses it all away and starts over.

"We could ..." he continued as his hand slid from your knee to your thigh so lightly it gave you goosebumps, "go to dinner?"

You scooted back a little on the bed, "'Nami, I almost have dinner ready to cook."

"That's right, that's right, darling, forgive my thoughtlessness." His fingers were squeezing the fattest part of your thigh now, his kisses trailed down further toward your breasts.

"Mm," you said, breathing a little harder now. "I - I don't know, honey. I mmm ... I might have to punish you for your foolishness." Your fingers found their way into his belt buckle and you started to toy around with it.

"'Nami, do it ... do the thing you do." Your face got a devilish little look on it as you tilted your chin and looked up at him.

Nanami stood and undid his belt with his right hand and ripped it from around his waist. How hard he already was became more evident as the seconds passed.

Now on your knees in front of him. "Please, sir, please give me your belt." You begged. You were ready for anything, even if it meant being submissive to your husband.

"I can do that, my love, but I think I have a better idea." He pulled his belt back up to his pants and tucked it into the pocket.

"You wanna know what I want to do to you, sweetheart?" He was pulling at the button on his pants now.

"Yes, sir. Tell me."

"I want to lay you down on your back," he said as he did just that. "I want to take my belt and tie your wrists together. And I want to take your pretty panties off and spank you with them."

Your mouth was open in anticipation. "Sir, please."

He pulled the panties from your waist and rolled them up to the top of his fist. "Don't worry, my love. I'll be gentle at first."

He tied your wrists together with his belt and then pulled the panties out from his fist.

"Are you ready, my darling?" He asked.

You nodded your head in agreement.

He brought the panties down on your backside with a loud crack.

"Oh! Sir, please. Again."

He spanked you again, harder this time.

"Mmhm, yes. Again, please."

He hit you again and again and again. Each time you would beg for him to do it harder.

You could feel yourself getting wetter with each slap.

He stopped after a while and flipped you onto your back. Your pussy was throbbing, begging for his touch.

He leaned down and kissed your lips softly, his hands tracing your body. He trailed his tongue down to your chest, leaving a wet trail in his wake.

His fingers found their way to your clit, circling around it gently before slipping a finger inside your folds.

"’Nami, fuck me." You said, trying not to sound as desperate as you were feeling.

He pulled his pants off and threw them to the floor.

His cock was rock solid.

He grabbed your panties from the bed and rubbed the head of his dick with them before tossing them to the side.

He lined himself up with your entrance and pushed himself inside you.

"Ohhhh, yes’sir." You moaned as you felt his cock fill you up.

He started thrusting in and out of you, slow and steady at first.

You could feel yourself getting wetter with every thrust.

"Ohhh, sir, please fuck me harder." You begged.

He picked up the pace and started fucking you faster.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes. 'Nami oh my fucking god ..."

He grabbed your tits in his hands and started kneading them, his cock still pounding away at you.

You were so close to cumming, you could feel it building up inside you.

"Sir, m’gonna cum. Please ...?"

"Go ahead, baby. Cum for me." He said as he fucked you even harder.

You came with a loud moan, your whole body shaking.

Nanami came right after you, his dick twitching as he filled you up.

He collapsed on top of you, both of you breathing heavily.

"Fuck, 'Nami." You said as you looked at him with a smile. "That was incredible."

"Yeah," he said as he kissed your cheek. "It really was. Thank you for letting me have my way with you, baby." He chuckled.

You both lay there for a while, enjoying the warmth of each other's bodies.

After a while, you got up and started to get dressed. You had dinner to cook, after all.

As you walked to the kitchen, you couldn't help but think about how lucky you were to have a man like Nanami in your life. He was everything you could ever hope for. 

[witheredsnow]

My first blogged short story awhile ago that I just thought of posting to... Idk. I guess to relieve myself of some things by turning it into embellished fiction. It was more well-received than I thought. Now this is the third. Thanks for reading. -Rei

It's Not the Same, a short story on an aroace POV

Sunny mornings, cool windy breezes and the sparse green. That was what most days were like with you, my dearest friend.

Sprawled on the ground of your small yard. Green was hard to come by sadly.

We were both young and lived like the world was a fantasy.

Although, I wished I could be in a better fantasy. With you, of course.

A cottage in the woods, surrounded by green, yellows, blues, pinks and violets. Even young, I wanted an idyllic life.

Wouldn't that be a great fantasy.

And I told you about it. Would you want to be there with me too? When we're both older and have to live in reality, let's have this piece of fantasy. Together.

Oh how happy my words made you look. Sparkly eyed youth with red tinted cheeks.

Then you held out your pinky... Oh, right. Of course I would promise.

I want to be with you even years later. And I know you feel the same way as you told me too.

...

.....

But perhaps, it wasn't exactly the same way.

...

We grew older into bigger kids though still kids and still the closest of bonds there is.

Adults say we look cute together as we continue to grow older. Mmm... I mean, I suppose? Individually we look cute, so together we're cuter. I think I understand the logic.

Or maybe I misunderstood.

... I don't know.

Hm? You seem more timid when they say that.

Everyone looked on with a knowing smile or glance.

I... Really don't understand.

...

....

And sometimes I wished I continued to stay ignorant.

But that would be unfair to you, no?

...

Getting even older. It wasn't that exciting to me, in all honesty.

I think I'm starting to get into the reality of growing older... Not that fun. Oh, how I daydreamed of our childhood fantasies when I'm bored.

I never gave up on that dream as I continue to dream it night and day. Do you still remember?

Of course you do. You would encourage and support me too. I know I will want you to be there with me.

You know, that was what I was most looking forward to in getting older. To be with you in that fantasy like I've told you many years ago.

You smiled softly at the declaration I said out loud.

Although, these days... I don't think it'll be just as I wanted. I... Don't know what it is. I don't know where is it not what I wanted.

...

....

But later, I know what it was.

....

Huh? Pardon? What did you say?

My mind stopped working. Or rather, it was working but it was working to block out the words I don't understand why I was denying. Did that make sense?

Hm... Anyway, erm, I understand what you said that you were feeling. Towards me to be exact. And I understand the context of said feelings...

Maybe I did a while ago...

If I said I don't feel the same way or rather, I never will feel the same and I never did feel the same... No, that's not an 'if'. I should say it and I did.

The eyes that looked at me fondly and with growing attraction I chose to ignore when I became aware of its nature now looked hurt. Because I hurt you with this truth.

You thought I felt the same. That I liked you... Or possibly even loved you.

And I did and still do. But... It wasn't ever the same way as you. It took me long to be aware of that.

I... I'm sorry.

...

.....

It wasn't the same ever since that day and I sometimes grieved because of that fact.

So this is reality for us, huh.

....

You looked great together.

I said that as I attended your wedding. Now those words are truly fitting.

You smiled a small smile as I did the same.

It really wasn't the same anymore. But that's not always a bad thing. If it meant that I could see you smile again and have your heart be reciprocated the same way, then it definitely isn't now.

You're still my dearest friend... No matter what.

...

.....

"Hey... So house—or rather, cottagewarming party soon?"

"Yeah. Don't be late."

...

[superfallingstars]

Hey! Wanted to send you another playlist ask prompt (if that's ok) ^^: Percy Weasley in his flat, trying not to think about his family. I'm genuinely wondering what he would listen to

send me playlist asks!

First off, you can basically always send playlist prompts, I’m fine with it, I have a ton of fun with these. It’s just a matter of whether I answer them in a few weeks, months, or years LOL

I confess, before receiving this ask, I had thought about Percy for maybe a grand total of 5 seconds, so suffice it to say that I had no idea what to do about this. However I recently (VERY recently) started rereading the series and I’m slowly remembering who tf he is lol. My playlists for the other Weasley kids all have a huge Britpop influence, so I decided to continue that (along with some other alternative 80s and 90s stuff) on Percy’s. Hopefully it comes across that he is a huge stuck-up nerd, but he is also just a young guy trying to find his place in the world, going through the difficult process of realizing that he's made a mistake, and admitting to himself and the people he hurt that he was wrong... I imagine it was a very humbling experience. Also wow there’s so many great songs about moving on and starting a new life and I don’t think about you at all anymore so idk why you’re even sending me a sweater MOM. Basically I'm quite proud of the lyrics on this one (part of why it took me 10000 years to answer) – so let's get into it

Track list:

Blur - There’s No Other Way: starting off strong with some early Blur. Tbh I don’t really know what this song is about but I enjoy that it starts out with “You’re taking the fun out of everything.” Soooo true Percy you killjoy

The Wedding Present - Box Elder: Great song about leaving (specifically a relationship – unfortunately most great songs about moving on are about relationships, but whatever)! “I’ve got a lot of things to do / A lot of places to go / I’ve got a lot of good things coming my way / And I’m afraid to say that you’re not one of them.” Yeowch!

Lloyd Cole and the Commotions - Are You Ready To Be Heartbroken?: I adore this song in all its 80s glory! The meaning is a bit ambiguous but imo it’s about being an opinionated, idealistic, pretentious young person (“Making your friends feel so guilty about their cynicism”) who doesn’t realize real life is going to – well – break their heart.

The Smiths - London: I just heard this song for the first time two days ago and omg it's perfect. Like it’s literally about leaving your friends and family behind to go move to London and work in the big city. Percy would 10000% listen to this (and uncritically agree that the only reason his family is mad at him is because they’re jealous of his success and his big boy job at the Ministry)

Ned’s Atomic Dustbin - Selfish: from what I can tell, this song is about being an insecure loser so you get all stuck-up and mean about it. "If I don't know what's cool / Will you call me a loser?" ... “I hope your head's aching from having too much fun” ... “The selfish gene in me / Has finally come into being / He’s teaching me how to be mean / But that’s a sorry sorry state to be in” ..Rather fitting, isn’t it?

The Wedding Present - Getting Nowhere Fast: read an article about this song (the original song, this is a cover) that described it as “the feeling that your failing life isn’t what you signed up for” and honestly I can’t describe it any better than that

Blur - Birthday: this song is about spending your birthday alone and feeling really weird and bad about it. Which is something I hadn’t even considered could have happened to Percy but now I 1000% believe that it did

New Order - Weirdo: These lyrics man. “It’s a life that’s made for me / Where I can be completely free / So long as I obey this sound / That echoes all around” Lollll

Dire Straits - Brothers in Arms: This song is a little dated for Percy’s time, but I quite like putting 80s stuff on here because I think older music adds to Percy's supposed maturity as well as making him seem accurately uncool. And “We’re fools to make war on our brothers in arms” wow sooooo true

The Verve - Neon Wilderness: truly captures the vibes of being a lonely young person living on your own in the big city. I can vividly picture Percy listening to this alone in his flat and slowly realizing what a sad and solitary life he has created for himself…

Pavement - Stop Breathing: THE REALIZATION. This song is technically about a soldier dealing with the emotional toll of war but it works fantastically well for this playlist (the guilt of realizing you were wrong, that you truly hurt others, and that your whole belief system was massively flawed). “Write it on a postcard / Dad they broke me / Dad they broke me.” Ummmmm screaming crying throwing up

The Rentals - It’s Time to Come Home: It really is.

WOWWW this one was so fun! It was a challenge to create a playlist for a character I’m not super familiar with, but honestly that was probably the most fun part about it! It’s so rewarding when you spend some time thinking about a character you (initially) feel neutral towards and force yourself to really consider their motivations and relate to them – I like Percy a lot more now LOL. Thank you so much for the ask!

[ghostampire]

"Now they definitely won't make a shitty movie."

Tara Carpenter x Amber Freeman

Summary: Amber survives the final and now Tara is going to get answers.

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: idk blood death glass hardcore ending I think I died

25th anniversary of the Woodsboro murders. Back to that crazy night that changed this town forever.

A bloody series of murders had come to an end. It only seemed that way at first glance. After all, that's how movies with good endings end, right?

The sounds of sirens and ambulances pierce the air, reporters pull up. It's happening all over again. Sam, Tara, and Mindy, as the surviving trio from the new generation, get proper medical attention. Finally a long-awaited vacation after exhausting games of not only life but death.

The police officers are about to seal the house and get to work, but their attention is drawn to the scream of a man heard from inside the house.

“Stretcher required, we have another survivor!”

Another one. But who? Mindy's firm grip stops the medical worker who was carrying her to the ambulance. Her gaze read hope and fear as her brother was the only one she didn't see among the others. He's Chad-fucking-Meeks-Martin. Would it be any different in this crazy real-life murder franchise? Apparently this time yes, because it's not the tough athlete with the beaming smile who is carried out of the house on a stretcher, but the culprit of their headaches and new scars. Amber Freeman. Second Ghostface. 

At this point, it's as if everyone around the house freezes in anticipation or disbelief, watching the scene unfold, except for Tara. She can't look at her girlfriend, already an ex, of course, but that doesn't save her from conflicting feelings.  From facing reality. The squeezing pain in her ribcage from the realization of betrayal and the relief that it didn't end as horribly as it could have. But... what now? The chaotic thoughts in her head were making her physically nauseous, as was the fantasy of their reunion. Maybe this was just what she needed. Maybe only now would she get her answers from the one who'd treated her so cruelly, though she'd never thought of that earlier. Now she needed the truth. She needed to know who her ex-girlfriend really was.

The younger Carpenter didn't feel as strong now as the older one. Tears were hard to hold back, her lips were starting to hurt.

Not surprisingly, Sam noticed the change in Tara's demeanor, grabbing her hand tighter for support. It was clear without words how hard it was to get through this moment. How hard it would be to get through this night. As if the nightmare wasn't over yet.

It was obvious for sure that for Tara, this nightmare would be forever. In real life and in her dreams. As for Amber? She won't let this nightmare fade away as long as she's alive.

It was a mistake.

Definitely the stupidest and craziest thing the younger Carpenter had ever done in her life. However, this night had long been beyond normal, so it was worth the risk. It was something she wanted to believe in, otherwise it would cost her a broken heart or her life.

Strange to think her heart was still beating for her.

She'd been on such craziness with her girlfriend before, they often got into such messes because Amber wanted more thrills. Tara wanted love.

There's a reason they say that you can't see the monster in your lover.

Not until it was too late.

Tara knew she wouldn't be able to sleep tonight, wouldn't be able to be around the people who cared for her right now. She was drawn to the one who had given her the most love and who had left more scars on her body and soul that would never truly heal. She felt like a moth that was mindlessly giving in to its instincts and flying toward the brightest light of its life. That's what Amber was to her. And it was killing her in every way. So yes, it was definitely a crazy idea to sneak into the hospital where the brutal killer was being held.

The small town had its advantages, but it was also a disadvantage. Everyone knew each other, knew secrets and could use them for good as well as evil. Carpenter thought it was only fair to find out everything from Amber here and now and that was what she was able to convince the policeman who was on duty outside the hospital room today. Only fifteen minutes had been allotted, which meant the questions had to be chosen wisely. 

One short breath. One step forward. One question.

“Why?”

Why did she even think she could get through to Amber? Why did she need answers so badly? Why was her girlfriend a fucking murderer when they could live happily together? Why?

The door was only slightly ajar, so that only a tiny bit of light from the corridor penetrated the room. The room itself was dark and shiveringly uncomfortable. Even in that damn house, the closet hadn't been so scary when Amber had tied her up and locked her in, and it had been chaotic after that. Now it felt like the closet had gotten bigger and locked her in with the killer. Maybe her mouth and wrists weren't taped shut, but the girl was restrained by all those feelings inside her.

Fear. Doubt. Sorrow.

Tara stood a couple steps away from the bunk where the brunette lay in bandages, in such a horribly vulnerable state, but alive. It might have all looked like loving people coming to each other for support, but the reality was far worse.

The silence in the room was agonizingly pressing on Carpenter's so unrecovered psyche. Words stuck in her throat, no matter how much she wanted to say. It was like torture. 

Amber remained motionless, as if frozen in place. As if she was the only one in the room who was conscious. She watched her ex-girlfriend's every move. They both knew that now they would have to choose every word, every tone with extreme care. The last night had taken a lot from them, they were on edge and the slightest slip up could end in disaster. Instinct for self-preservation screamed to run right now, but she felt paralyzed. Tara couldn't move after hearing her girlfriend's husky voice.

“Because it's fun.”

As if that was what Amber needed. To open up to someone and just say, "I am who I am." Like she'd been storing that moment in her heart for a long time.

And she saw Tara's gaze lock on one expression as well, her breathing quickened and her heart began to beat faster. She saw herself realize that there would be no more excuses, no more 'I love you'. No more trying to change things. Just the truth.

Amber saw Tara break down in front of her. It was her choice to tell her everything about herself, to tell her feelings. She wanted to be the one to help her, but she couldn't do that right now. All she could give Tara was the truth, which would break her. Just like the words she'd spoken: "Because it's fun." They could sever all ties between people and destroy any hope of any kind of love.

Carpenter realized this, which was why it was hard to hold back the tears that rolled down her cheeks so scaldingly. She had to muster all the strength she had to look the sociopath in the eye.

“Did I even mean anything to you?”

Amber felt her heart skip a beat at that question. A second later, she nodded her head and a slight smirk appeared on her face. She didn't deny that this relationship had given her something, including the realization that she felt what a normal person should feel. But it wasn't love. She hated to admit it, but she felt something from her that she hadn't felt before. A feeling she could call attraction, but as usual, it couldn't last. A sense of control over someone or something, and a feeling she had never felt before - a desire to take someone under her wing. But this feeling wasn't love, and she knew it. She couldn't fake it. It was on the verge of obsession. She knew exactly how their relationship would end, and she actually enjoyed everything that was happening between her and Tara. Amber took pleasure in the girl's feelings, but that pleasure was selfish. And in a way, it was her way of loving, but it was a twisted feeling that she didn't hide.

“I was trying to help you.”

As soon as those words came out of the ruthless killer's mouth, Tara breaks down completely and all the negative feelings overwhelm her at once. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. It was absurd. It couldn't possibly be true. Tears stop rolling down her cheeks, her gaze becomes hard and filled with burning rage. Her voice trails off into a scream and she takes a step towards the girl.

“Help?! You ruined my life!”

Carpenter didn't have time to think about what she said, but those were exactly the words, the feelings she felt after the betrayal. The lump in her throat again prevented her from saying the rest, but it also prevented her from giving in to her feelings. Biting her lip and glancing over her shoulder at the half-open door, Tara turned back to Amber and took another step so her words wouldn't sound so loud, but now they were soaked with all the pain she'd been through over the past few days. There wasn't much time left to talk.

“You killed people and now you're leaving me alone.”

Amber's face expressed no emotion other than indifference. Her expression remained calm and detached as she watched her lover come closer and closer. Perhaps she liked it when Tara's emotions got out of control, she expected the girl to react that way. Maybe she was waiting for revenge, maybe she was just waiting for her to try to hit her... She couldn't tell. But she knew she deserved it. Did she feel remorse for it? Not at all.

Freeman opened her mouth to say what seemed to be something very important, but she only exhaled and raised her right arm as far as she could. Her movements were restricted because as a criminal she was obviously handcuffed to the bunk. She tilted her head slightly to the side, lowering her gaze. She wanted to believe that Tara would understand her and even after all of this she wouldn't be afraid to touch her. At least one last time.

And that made Tara's breath catch. This was too much. She couldn't see her ex-girlfriend as just a murderer. The problem was, she couldn't love her like before either. It was tearing her heart in two and leaving her with nothing. It was an emptiness so consuming that she wanted to cling to every opportunity just to heal. Just so she wouldn't feel the shards of her broken heart crashing into her soul, and so she took another step. Tentatively at first, with a trembling hand she reached out to Amber, touching her bandaged arm with her fingertips and then placing her palm fully.

It was something Amber had never expected, but had always hoped for. She'd expected many other things from Tara, but not this. She felt the girl's warm hand on hers. It was a wonderful feeling, no matter what. It was as if the girl was trying to show her that there was always room for a little good, no matter how bad or impossible the situation seemed. She liked that. She was even surprised by it. Her fingers closed around the girl's fingers. That little movement was Amber's way of expressing the fact that Tara always had a place in her heart. But...

This wasn't the kind of horror movie that ended with a good ending. At least that's how Amber saw it, especially when her plan went awry. There was definitely nothing left to lose now and she was going to take the one thing that mattered to her with her. She certainly wasn't going to lose to Sam on this one.

Killing people was a lot easier than trying to free one hand from handcuffs by breaking a finger. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, but it was worth it. She'd done even before her ex had arrived, but almost as soon as night fell.  Slowly sitting down on the bunk, she looked sympathetically at Tara, clearly in pretense, and then took advantage of the moment to grab her by the scruff of the neck and pull her to her, holding the girl with a dead grip as close as she could.

There was only frustration and horror in Tara's eyes. It was as if she realized what was about to happen and was trying to prepare herself for the final blow, the worst possible moment. But there was no fear. She had already experienced far worse, she had already experienced betrayal worse than anything else. Now she was ready for the final moment. To meet her death cuddled against her friend's chest. To die feeling her lover's warm body against hers.

“Sorry, baby.”

Amber's words sounded cold-blooded and cruel, yet so gentle at the same time. Deceptively so. Only the breath Tara felt against her ear was scalding hot, reminding her that this monster was human, that this monster was her girlfriend, and that none of that mattered because the younger Carpenter had lost. 

It all happened in a matter of seconds. Amber's soft lips pressed in a gentle kiss to her princess's neck, but only as a false sense of security, because just seconds later her teeth sank into the girl's flesh, digging in as deep as possible, as painful as possible, until she felt she had not achieved her goal. Tara may have been intended in her script as the final girl, but everything had gone to hell at the last moment in that house and now the script had to be urgently rewritten. No matter how much Carpenter resisted, she couldn't get out of this trap.

Hearing the girl's scream, a policeman immediately rushed into the room with a gun at the ready and another holding a walkie-talkie to his chest for communication. 

It was too late. Tara could barely stay on her feet and gave her last strength to cling to the bunk like a lifeline. Blood hotly began to flow profusely from her neck and her vision slowly began to fade.

This time Ghostface had taken his last girl. Now this was the kind of ending that could be called dignified. Not the one she and Richie had planned for.... But it was even better this way.

Amber's gaze shifted to the cop with a wide grin.

“Now they definitely won't make a shitty movie.”

[thatgirlonstage]

Sometimes I get overwhelmed by how ephemeral most art is. Even outside willful capitalist greed that pulls shows and films from streaming (or refuses to even release them in the first place) and refuses to make video game consoles backwards compatible—even with the best will and effort to preservation in the world—paints and dyes and fabrics fade and degrade over time. Stone and metal statues get worn down. Colors aren’t perfectly replicable on new monitors or with new ingredients. DVDs and CDs and records get scratched. Files lose data. Film gets worn out. Things can’t be copied with complete fidelity to their original — brushstrokes or colors or sound quality will have shifted, even with the most careful effort, even if you are using the same medium (and if you can’t use the same medium, eg digitizing something originally on film, you will inevitably lose some things you can’t get back. Fuzziness and timbre and color quality that artists knew they were working with and whether they leaned into it or worked around it they expected it to be there and their absence will inevitably be felt). Plain text is essentially the only thing that can at least theoretically be copied without any loss of information, but even that is only in theory! Typos and misprints and errors plague any copy. Debates rage over whether something in an older version was an error corrected in a later edition or an intentional choice that got revised for whatever multitude of possible reasons. I haven’t even touched art that is by its very nature ephemeral from the start — live performance and installations made of living plants and art where the whole purpose is watching something fall apart.

Idk. I am desperately and fiercely in favor of all efforts at preservation of art while also being painfully aware of how impossible it is to preserve anything forever. Go to the theatre and feel with your whole heart how incredible it is to witness something that will only be done exactly like this just once, just today, just right this moment, and then it will be gone forever, whether its alterations are obvious or almost imperceptible they will be there. Then expand that feeling to everything you touch and feel at once lucky and heartbroken.

[thedeathdeelers]

idk i feel like we’ve already talked about this (we did!! it’s here!! by the lovely @mac-lilly) but a sweet home alabama-ish juke au. yknow. childhood friends to lovers to strangers to enemies to lovers again

mostly for this scene:

“nice dress,” he shouts over the rain and the sound of waves crashing against the shore. “where’s your husband?” he barely throws a glance at her, his eyes quickly averting back to his task at hand — burying the rods deeper i to the sand.

julie is drenched from head to toe, her wedding dress ruined, her hair a nightmare — her make up is probably leaking all over her face, and her feet are aching. but as she gets ready to give him her answer, she can’t help but smile — a genuine one.

“i’m looking at him,” she says simply.

luke stops moving, his back to her as his arms hang on either side of the metal rod he was now gripping with a little more force than necessary.

for a moment neither of them say anything, with only the sound of nature roaring around them.

it represented them well — the pouring rain, the crashing waves; the thunderous clouds and blinding lightning: it was a lot, all-encompassing and overwhelming.

their love was a force of nature, and they both knew it.

luke slowly turns around, hands dropping to his sides.

“what are you talking about?” his eyes scan the darkened area behind her, trying to spot the blond head he knows will inevitably pop up. “where’s nick?” he finally asks when he fails to see him.

“he’s not here, luke,” she says, taking a step towards him. luke’s eyes are back on her, as he watches her warily. what was she up to? torturing him until the last minute?

“he left for new york an hour ago.”

just hearing the name of the city that had become julie’s new home reminds luke why he had tried so hard to guard his heart.

he nods brusquely at julie, walking past her as he shouts over his shoulder.

“you should hurry and catch up to him — wouldn’t want to miss your wedding night.” he grimaces as the words leave his mouth, instantly regretting it.

he sounded petty. and he also definitely didn’t want to picture julie on her wedding night with someone…..that wasn’t him.

luke stops to pick up his equipment off the ground, shaking his head as he digs around in the sand to make sure he doesn’t leave anything behind.

“i’m not joining him.”

luke stops moving, his fingers freezing mid-search as her words slowly sink in.

she couldn’t-

she didn’t-

“we didn’t get married, luke.”

her words hit him like a bag of bricks, dropping everything he had picked up as he slowly straightens up, his back still to her.

he takes in a deep breath- and another, eyes closed and fists clenched as he tries to squash down the hope that stubbornly started rising up in his chest.

“why not?”

“apparently,” she starts, her voice slowly getting closer. “…we’re still married.”

luke’s eyes snap open at her statement, swirling around to find her standing only a few feet away.

“still married? but i signed the papers, just like you asked me to.”

“yeah well turns out…i kinda forgot to.” she shrugs, shoulders moving up and down as a small smile makes its way on her face.

“forgot?” he asks incredulously. “forgot?”

luke groans as he rakes his fingers through his hair, letting out a humourless laugh.

“julie,” he says, eyes on hers. “what do you want?”

“you,” she answers simply. “you were my first kiss,” she continues, taking a step closer. “and i want you to be the last.”

that throws him off for a second, recalling a time when they were kids and julie had told him the exact same thing.

they were older now- things were different…right?

luke just shakes his head to clear it, and asks again.

“no i mean- what do you want to be married to me for anyway? wasn’t nick what you were always looking for?”

julie shakes her head as her smile turns blinding, taking a step towards him, and then another, until she was crowding him, standing in his space.

“so i can kiss you whenever i want.”

she grabs his drench collar, and pulls, until he was only inches away.

“and no luke, it was always you.”

[xspeter]

okay i see how much you love miss music industry herself and i was wondering if you would be open to doing a finnick x reader story like based off the betty augustine james love triangle (but like in an au where he never was reaped for the games bc when do you see that) where reader is like augustine and basically finnick has he just as a summer fling but goes back to betty and she's just kind of there watching them from afar being in love while she loves him but was only ever a heat of the moment thing but she really loves him, and then she just kind grows to hate him because he used her and her love, it would be cool if it ended on a kind of angry my tears ricochet kind of note maybe she gets reaped and he like comes back and is worried for her like he actually cares and shes all like "why tf did you come here, you dont care about me you don't love me you just feel fucking guilty bc i could die" i just love the idea of a female rage kind of ending where the sadness and love turns sour bc we never see that, its usually like the reader wallowing and losing themselves over an man and always kind of gets away without any real guilt or remorse, BASICALLY i just want him to feel all the pain and guilt for his actions and kind of just left floundering like that. idk of thats something that peaks your interests but i'd love to read it if you do( this is literally my dream fic to read)!!

𝐁𝐘𝐄 𝐁𝐘𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤, 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ఌ

sometimes, you feel like a horrible person.

annie cresta and finnick odair were practically royalty. they were perfect for each other, and you were just… there.

until finnick and annie suddenly split, and annie went to visit her grandparents for the summer in the southern part of district four.

then, life seemed to be looking a lot better. finnick came to you for comfort. he knocked on your window in the middle of the night. he wanted you.

he helped you forget about your older brother, who had died in a fishing accident the year prior, and you helped him forget about annie. it was a win-win situation.

the beginning of june had started off awkward, because his wound was still fresh. almost everytime you saw him his eyes were glassy, but eventually, when you saw him he was smiling.

he was smiling at you.

by the end of june you had both admitted your mutual feelings for each other, and had started meeting secretly under bridges, behind buildings, anywhere you could really.

your parents and friends found it odd how much you blew them off, but you had shrugged it off, using the excuse ‘i’m just really busy at work!’

by july you and finnick had already kissed, and you had given him something important to you, your body.

he was the first to ever see it, and you were praying, that he would be the last.

the end of august was when things started to go downhill.

annie cresta had arrived back home on the seventeenth, and as soon as she did, you could feel finnick pulling away from you.

he denied it of course, saying things like, “you’re the only one for me.” or “you know i only love you.”

did you know though?

because now, mid September, you watch them enter a cafe together, holding hands.

finnick never held hands with you in public.

you watch as he kisses her sweetly, paying for whatever it was she ordered with no hesitation.

finnick had ended things with you barely a week ago, and now he’s already back with her? did this summer just mean nothing to him?

you feel the familiar build up of tears and immediately walk away from the shop.

besides, you have other things to worry about. tomorrow, one boy and one girl would be reaped for the 73rd annual hunger games.

you had survived for four years now, but you know you can never be too lucky.

when you heard your name announced, you swear your heart stopped.

“y/n l/n!” selodona, your districts announcer, reads your name from her tiny slip of paper.

with shaky legs you walk to the stage, trying to ignore the eyes on you. trying to ignore his eyes on you.

you don’t need his pity. not after he lied to you for months. not after he tore you apart.

you barely even register the male tribute, until you’re both forced to shake hands. when you do look at him, you recognize him as martin fraser, a boy you often fish with.

he manages a small smile and you attempt to do the same.

“please, a round of applause for this years tributes!”

silence.

instead, numerous people kiss the tips of their fingers, and holds them high in the air. selodona, clearly unsure of what to do, ushers the both of you into the court house.

she shows you both your private rooms where you’ll be given fifteen minutes to say goodbye to whoever you would like.

the first to visit is your mother, father, and younger brother, jaxon.

your mother tells you to stay vigilant, your father tells you to utilize your strength in the water, and your brother pleads with you to stay alive.

after they leave, your friend, masriska visits. she’s crying and by the time she leaves so are you.

you don’t expect the doors to open again after she leaves, so when they do, your heart immediately drops.

you don’t even have to turn around to know who’s entered the room.

“y/n-” finnick starts, but you cut him off.

“dont even say anything.” you snarl, wrapping your arms around your chest and turing around to look at him.

his eyes are glassy and he’s shaking, but you don’t care.

he doesn’t get the right to care about you anymore.

“y/n, please,”

“why are you here finnick?” you question, “because the last time we talked, you told me that you had never meant for our relationship to move past just a summer fling. that you had always planned to go back- go back to her!” you shout.

finnick tenses and sniffles, he stuffs his hands in his pockets and glances to the side. “i’m sorry, y/n. i… i really am. and now this is happeing to you and i just-”

“you just what? literally, what?”

finnick stutters, but before he can get out the words peacekeepers are ushering him out of the room.

selodona enters when they leave, pulling you with her to bring you to the train.

and some, sick, twisted, part of you hopes you die in that arena, just so finnick has to live with himself.

has to live, with what he did to you.

bye i hate this. throwing up crying screaming at the sky

[clambuoyance]

ngl I know nothing ab your DC blorbos except they're gay and cool or something Idk I just think they're neat... I'd ask what comics I could read ab them being super blorbo-y but Idk...

OKAY so there’s a lot of characters in dc but the ones I draw/talk about the most are these group of friends!! They feature in Young Justice 1998, Teen Titans 2003, and Young Justice 2019, as well as having their own comics and other appearances :)

each comic run has different vibes but my personal favorite is yj1998 bc I like its wacky and zany vibes. It was not my first comic though, and it’s a little older so it might be hard to understand or read if it’s your first time reading comics like this, and again it is old soooo some stuff does Not age well such as certain jokes or depictions and it is of course not all perfect but overall I love it and think it has a lot of heart

I think i have a lot of fun with it bc it feels so…animated? And it has funny slapstick humor. Honestly I probably like it bc it makes me laugh the same way ninjago makes me laugh…a group of 4+ friends that have cute dynamics with each other and just Being Silly Together. I really don’t know how to explain it but between all three runs, I can see yj1998 in my head the most as a wacky animated show with exaggerated bouncy animation idk so that’s part of the fun for me. I think the moment I realized this was going to be a long term emotional investment was When I read the issue where they randomly end up on a planet and have to play baseball bc I am a SUCKERRR for baseball shenanigans

But yeah the group starts out with Bart, Tim, and Kon in JLA: A world without Grownups, and they just have a good trio dynamic 🙏 the banter between all three is so good 🤩and I liked seeing their friendship develop throughout yj1998 too! Especially for Tim, with his hesitancy at the beginning.They weren’t without conflict ofc but that adds to why I like them bc eventually they became besties for life. They are also quickly joined by others but the main one that stays w the group through all three runs is Cassie Sandsmark , aka Wonder Girl ii.

But yeah I guess some things I like are the way they actually Hang out? like they will do camping trips or go to the mall and games together etc etc, but there will be parts that feel more serious while never losing that humorous tint to it. For some examples, I love how Tim tries to be a leader in the beginning, but then one arc shows just how much Cassie is more fitting for it, and how they bond over Leader things like how hard it is to tell Bart what to do and then will share a really nice hug 🥺, and I love Cassie and Cissie’s relationship a LOT because they sometimes misunderstand each other but clearly care for each other (they aren’t canon but in my heart they are.) I also like Tim and kon’s build towards understanding and friendship for a similar reason, and cissie and Anita also have a nice development with each other, but yeah all the dynamics are just fun to think about tbh 🤷🏻‍♀️ I am pointing at them eagerly and going “wow! Friendship!!”

And as for the guy I never shut up about…well that’s a whole thing I could ramble about but i became obsessed with him the moment he quoted Peter Pan while lamenting about how he was afraid his friends would leave him behind after several issues of him acting like Hot Shit and erm I’m predictable so it got to me 🙄 also he makes dumb jokes every second like he expects someone to laugh at them like he’s so dumb sometimes….anyways I do not want to ramble too much so I will get on with it

I was only familiar with his black tshirt look before, so when I first saw this goofy looking dumbass with a leather jacket and glasses and an earring I WAS LIKE “THATS SUPERBOY? THATS REAL?” and quickly became interested in the notion of a Superman associated hero wearing something like this bc I don’t think my brain ever considered the possibility before….also it is something I cannot explain some panels just activate my cuteness aggression 😔 I just think he’s really cute 🫶🫶🫶

[bobtheacorn]

tagged by @plothooksinc and @sroloc--elbisivni ! Finally have a chance to sit down at my desk - only to procrastinate! lmao TY for the opportunity!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

75! I have probably ten or so more that i never crossposted from ffdotnet, but they're all Old! Given that FF took a huge L and was apparently down for several days, I might find incentive to move them. but! unlikely 🤣

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

815,373!

Nicole Shut the Fuck Up Challenge: FAILED lmao

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Actively: I'm trying to write various stuff for risetmnt, usagi yojimbo, and digimon adventure/02.

Not actively, published:

Voltron: Legendary Defender (24) One Piece (Anime & Manga) (13) Luca (2021) (5) 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga) (3) Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02 (3) Digimon Adventure (2) Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater (2) 鬼滅の刃 | Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba (Anime) (2) 幽☆遊☆白書 | YuYu Hakusho: Ghost Files (Anime & Manga) (2) The Hobbit - All Media Types (2) Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime) (1) Saiyuki (Anime & Manga) (1) Avatar: The Last Airbender (Cartoon 2005) (1) The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien (1) The Adventure Zone (Podcast) (1) The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild/Tears of the Kingdom (1) Animaniacs (1) Zootopia (2016) (1) Gravity Falls (1)

Basically if I watch or read something and the brainworms get me for even a moment i will write at least one (1) fic for it! Even though I may not finish or even post it! 😆 Occasionally it becomes a whole mental illness (STILL cannot believe i pumped out 24 goddamn fics for voltron. What a time to be alive LMAO)

4. Top five fics by kudos?

the hard beat of her heart - 1,982!

WOW i didn't realize its had almost 2k now thats crazy af. My Bakugo and his Mom fic is THE banger!

so low you can hear - 1,866!

another holy fuck moment, this one is pretty surprising bc its a much older lunami fic but i saw a huge influx after OPLA so 🤣

tired and emotional - 1,466

my drunk teenagers vld fic had big hits, such as Pidge 'scrambling like a racoon' and two idiots (klance) eating eachothers faces under a public table and then fist-fighting their feelings! Not shocked that its up there bc it was super fun to write

i go there with you - 1,351

this started as mindlessly filling Wumptober prompts and escalated almost immediately into Whatever The Hell It Is Now and i love it dearly! hope i can finished it sometime...! 💀

maybe if it left a mark -1,295

ppl ate this one UP when i posted it and i still get pretty regular feedback for it so i'm not especially surprised that it's still hanging onto top 5 after all this time! its one of my favs too!

5. Do you respond to comments?

Not often 😭 Listen it takes all of my energy just to get the darn thing Written. I have a lot going on IRL, and i'm also horrible anxious about being Annoying 🧍‍♀️ so I just yeet things into the void 😅 told to be quiet to many times as I child w adhd and now I'm a traumatized adult who simultaneously doesn't know how to shut up but also catastrophises basic interactions. Rip

Anyway i DO read and cherish every single review/comment and they never fail to perk up my days!! obviously i reread them pretty regularly, and I love and appreciate yall!! 💜 sorry im awkward!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i'm more of a hurt/COMFORT girlie, so idk if any of my endings are SAD persay? Maybe a lil melancholy. maybe soul deep???

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

THIS is my cup of tea so it's: most of them 🤣 But significantly its my ooey gooey wedding finale for ANAFW

8. Do you get hate on fics?

got hate for a digimon fic i wrote abt Tai and Kari where someone was like 'this has so many red flags' and I was like Bro you don't show your siblings physical affection? Skill issue.

9. Do you write smut?

writing (and reading) smut is pretty new for me bc i'm on the sex-repulsed side of aro/ace but SOMETIMES !!!fictional!!! romance ETC compels me enough that i'm like Hm Lemme try that. I like to expand out of my comfort zones every now and then, so it's usually a turbulent but interesting exercise 🤣

MOST of the "spicy" stuff I write, I would consider pretty tame tbh? (or not very good 💀) I'm sorta vague on purpose, so if you come in expecting some delicious smut or something I am so sorry that that is not the part that interests me 💀💀

Someone who worked on Steven Universe said that Peridot's fixation on romance/shipping was "archeological" because she's aspec af and d'you know what I'm feelin it!

I love a dig site!

Makes no goddamn sense! Compells me tho.

10. Craziest crossover?

don't think i have a single one in my repertoire YET AS I TYPE THAT OUT i realize usagi yojimbo/tmnt is technically a cross-over! Even if it is a sort of canon one? not sure it counts asfkjhlklf I was gonna say that they don't usually interest me. Clown face emoji

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

if i have, no one has pointed it out!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes! I get requests pretty often to translate my fics and i'm fine with that as long as they link back to the original! i'm also fine if they don't i guess lmao what am i, the police?

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, I write The Most self-indulgent crap 24/7 3/65 and i will not hand any of the reigns to someone else rip. Love to brainstorm with others tho That's what makes the brain go brrrrrrrrr

14. All time favourite ship?

ugh its KLANCE, tormented me for like 5+ years and changed my brain chemistry for the better. I'm cringe but im free!

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

*stares in 300+ WIPS* maybe that super long bagginshield fic

OH and that anafw timetravel sequel where Lance got pulled into the past/an adjacent timeline and nearly died about it. literally. THAT baby was angsty! rip

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue! And characterization!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Chain of Events....! I don't know her 😭😭😭😭 Someone please introduce us. Also having too many ideas for the way a scene could play out and being paralyzed by Which is the Best One.

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

Sparingly and with Purpose!

19. First fandom you wrote in?

I know in my heart it was self-insert Dragon Ball Z when I was in like, middle school

20. Favourite fic you've written?

gonna list a top 5 bc I can't pick ONE salfjasdlkf

coyote - idk i fuckin LOVE how this one came together, i go back and read it sometimes and im like damn.

small impressions on his heart - this one makes me SO SOFT @ alberto Get Cherished, Idiot

steam: - THE underrated op fic of mine, its my FAV and no one else agrees! Tragedy!

as tenacious as dandelion weeds - i loved writing feral inosuke and his dumb backwards attitude. idk i love a soft one!

salvagable - truly my comedic prowess peeked with EGG SAUCE AND BREADED nothing else will ever compare

.

Imma tag: @big-meows @goodlucktai and anybody else no pressure who also needs ten minutes of procrastination to yell abt their stuff 💜

[j2zara]

for the ask game!! 📚 💭 👖

Sorry these took all day i've been out and Tired as hell but thank u!

📚 Do you read your own fic?

I try to not feel embarrassed that the answer is yeah bc like I think if other ppl reread their own work it would make sense!!!! Like I would not judge at all and honestly co-sign rereading ur own shit. I literally tell ppl that the reason I write is bc like. It’s basically the chance to craft your own perfectly tailored special interest to share with others. So like. Why wouldn’t I like it? (And this was especially true when I was trying to write original stuff which is why it’s so frustrating I never finish anything. But also a little true now too. This whole weird cloneverse was the product of my dumb thought experiment “what if the clones were people who had the capacity to be just as tragic as Jace). It’s got everything I like in it. I try to tell myself anyway. In practice it’s like. Argh.I kinda go through periods where I like. And this is usually after I JUST posted. Wanna do other things but end up distracting myself by rereading the thing I just made over and over. And then I forget it exists and often in my mind it’s like. Oh I don’t wanna read that i think bc I have residual feelings of like. Idk embarrassment I guess? Like I convince myself it’s old and probably bad but sometimes when I’m glancing at old things I write for. Refresher purposes (usually on cloneverse lol) I end up getting suckered back into rereading it like oh hey is this actually. Good?

Anything older I mostly haven’t looked at in a while bc idk. I’m very hard on my old self. I did reread my Reddie sky high au thing and went. Hm this is actually fun I like this. Most of my IT stuff is like. Ok I think? This is kinda related but I JUST got a comment on a talent swap I wrote for DR and I literally haven’t updated the thing since 2018 and I feel so bad for abandoning it but. Part of it is bc I think if I were to come back to it I would wanna redo some of the old chapters and I feel so pained looking at the early chapters. I keep telling myself I’ll get to it. My Mukuro and Hiro proxy sibling agenda deserves it, they deserve to be best friends so bad, I’m sad I abandoned them. 

💭 What is a headcanon you have about your own work?

This is such a funny question bc I’m such a goddamn blabbermouth so I feel pretty confident that I’ve already posted so much cringe abt the headcanons for cloneverse. Like. Technically J3’s personality started as a headcanon in that i was like “oh, Porter was flirting with J3 the entire time he was falling in love with J2”. 99% of the time if i feel compelled to say it i will just say it? Actually you know what? I just thought of one that might be kinda schmaltzy and i feel bad for not saying its a 100% certainty but in my heart Ankarna grants all the clones some form of true life but it would probably be some fucked genie deal where its like there’s a reincarnation au or something. Like they have to find each other again or something. Very Hadestown Orphydice anybody got a match coded. Genuinely b/c J4 wishes she was never Of Jace she gets what she wants and its like good/bad. Bc i can never stop putting the clones in the torment nexus I don’t know if that’s completely stupid

👖 Are you a planner, plantser, or pantser? Is it consistent?

I try so hard to be a planner bc I’m so frustrated by my pantser process. Like. Idk i tend to just ride momentum but without foresight you end up going in directions that can be kinda formless and completely wrong and idk. I have such hard time finishing things b/c of this i think. But when I try to plan I’m also so bad at it i don’t think I’ve ever finished a real and true outline before I start. I want to be the kind of person that has clean outlines but. Idk. So by default I guess I’m a plantser bc I do have docs full of notes but my notes are always super messy and like. Idk what I’m doing evolves so much while I work that half the time the notes end up not even accurate to what I’m aiming for. Worst of both worlds life

[the-golden-kingdom]

Too shy to ask with my normal account BUT, love your golden kingdom drawings, im a big fan as a golden kingdom fan who eats all the crumbs we have.

Do you have some headcannons for the melinis? What about the villagers. Looks at you with big autistic eyes

AHH THANK YOU SM!! We need more content fr ....anime...anime dont do us dirty please...we are starving for golden kingdom content please... You opened pandoras box with this one Anon. i have so many hcs i dont even know where to start LOL here are some of the ones im currently obsessing over

- I feel in my heart the villagers have some great imagination (look at their fashion designs) and theyre just masters at the arts on accident out of trying keep sane. Like the monkey and shakespeare thoery except its a bunch of bored immortal teens with overactive imaginations. At some point they would reinvent romeo and juliet and the Mona Lisa I just know it - Gender fluid / agender Yaad. (Imnotprojectingiamnotprojectingia) - these three are besties. my proof? Shhhhh

the one with the straw hat is also their bestie my proof is still pending My melini centric ones are mostly just angst I'm ngl

- We are told that most of the older folks got turned into spirits because they tried to reach the surface and I wonder If that was the case for yaads mother and grandmother (I WISH THE LADIES OF THE MELINI FAM HAD NAMES I NEED NAMES FOR THEM BEFORE I JUST START COMING UP WITH SOME ISTG ) or if they simply angered thistle. I think Delgals wife tried to get back to the surface but Eodios wife angered thistle at some point but idk

- I l think it would be devastating if yaad when he was rlly young sorta almost idolized thistle. like saw him as his cool uncle who protected the family and everything. Like the scene where he reminisces somewhat kinda fondly abt eating with his family and thistle just always being there by delgal almost like a pillar in his life, a fucked mightve-been-the-one-who-broke-the-walls-in-the-first-place pillar, But that's still a pillar

- This is more of a post canon and a lil bit not canon-ish thing but I think it would be so funny if thistle got out of the desireles-ness through music, writing, and wood carving. Why? Bcs I think so much but abt where tf he could've gotten a giant wooden man from to replace Eodio and how he put yaad into a tiny wooden doll too.

I've been going on too long I needa stop

[ko11ok]

Just wanna say ty for being some of the chosen Kollok people that carried the hashtag and are still around

hahaha yeah ofc!!

honestly i still need to like. actually finish series 2 (cannot call it kollok because kollok 1991 is always just kollok in my heart) i got maybe three episodes in because personally I wasn't enjoying the direction they went with it. i think it would've been better as an independent series, it just didn't have the heart and soul kollok 1991 had.

okay. i was like. i don't need to go on a rant....but i want to >:)

one of the things I liked about kollok 1991 was how messy it was, it was messy and fun and dark at the same time, there was a lot of cool stuff about it, and it felt like watching someone's beloved homegame with their unhinged dm, where not everything got wrapped up neatly and you never quite knew what was going to happen next.

the second series felt to clean to me, everything was put together, very streamline, very neat. it didn't have the edges or the humor 1991 had that was integral to [of course], my personal enjoyment of it. i feel like the ascended in general felt flat to me as well, like they were trying so hard to get us invested and interested in them that they wrapped back around to myself feeling like i didn't know them at all.

i think they tried really hard to do a little bit of everything, trying to let old fans see the legacy cast and their story, bring in a new audience with the ascended and the new story. it just all felt like? too much? like by catering to everyone and anyone they catered to no one. I remember zac saying that he wanted the second series to be something that anyone who'd never heard of kollok before could pick up and start watching, but to me that was so incredibly flawed. 1991 by its nature is a complex story, even if you created something new in the universe, the deeper lore and characters are still there, especially with how it was written.

my only pet peeve with zac's gaming style is that it's clear he almost always bites off more than he can chew, and when he needs to reconcile what he's bitten off, he almost always just spits it out (retcons) rather than just tries to swallow it (improvise, shift). he has extremely rich backstories and background written, and he likes to drop hints and ideas, but he never reveals any answers that are truly satisfying. (which maybe I missed because i didn't watch the second series). he likes to tease his audience, but never truly satisfy, in my opinion the most satisfying moments almost always came from the players.

imo legacy and the ascended should've been two different shows. they could've had the same format, they even could've existed in the same universe! [BIG BIG, "this is coming from someone who watched only like the first few episodes"], they could've just broken them up into separate shows at separate times. they could've given the old fans a satisfying ending, and given the new fans something to chew on with the ascended.

in my like. dream scenario, legacy's timeline instead takes place in 2002. (i've mentioned how i think a "kollok 2002" would be really cool, another palindrome year, most of the cast would be 11 years older, and in their late twenties/early thirties) they could still have mallory having gone into the black rock, tibby wracked with guilt, and the others sort of far flung. i think they could've pulled the same stuff and gotten a good result!! they could've even kept the timeline!! the ascended would rebel shortly after, the could've even done a series about that, which would've felt very similar, and ended where the show eventually got to, with the disillusioned ascended trying to figure out what the fuck they were going to do

idk! just my ten cents on it. sorry for taking your message and doing a lil rant lmao hope you don't mind

maybe i should do a sweet kollok rewatch in the future soon....like 1991 is pretty long but maybe i could swing it again >:)

[lumiereandcogsworth]

also, idk if april's fools day was a thing back then, or if the french would've been celebrating but hey, a man turned into a beast so I will ask, do they celebrate april fool's day, and prank each other?

okay so, not only did adam and belle definitely know about april fool’s day, but one strong theory of the day’s origin is actually IN FRANCE!

there’s mystery as to where it came from, spanning all over europe from the 14th to the 16th century, but one prominent theory is that it had its beginnings in france, in the 1582. it started when the council of trent called for everyone to switch from the julian calendar to the gregorian calendar. in the julian calendar, you start the year at the spring equinox, which i guess is april 1st. the gregorian is what we use, starting the year on january 1st. but since news spread a lot slower, there were many communities that were still using the julian calendar for years and years. so it became a joke that they were “april fools,” and eventually the day became a silly day for foolishness and pranks. one noted prank was having a paper fish placed on your back and being referred to as a poisson d’avril (april fish) - which was basically calling someone gullible. what a roast.

now as for my beloveds! i’ve always headcanoned that belle pranks adam sometimes… just because his grumpy face is so cute 🥺🥺🥺 adam definitely hates pranks, and DEFINITELY hates april fool’s day. i don’t think belle ever does any mean pranks, because that’s just not her style, but she’d definitely do very obnoxious ones, and absolutely get the servants involved. things like sending adam on a wild goose chase when he’s looking for her. every servant he asks gives him a different location that she ISN’T. causing him to wander in circles all over the castle, tragically looking for his wife😭 she also does things like mixing up the order of his shoes on the shelf on his dressing room, and hiding his ink jars so he can’t finish any of his work 😮‍💨 just little annoying things to drive him crazy 🥰🤗

i think belle gets it from her father. i imagine when she was growing up, april fool’s day was always a very silly day for them lmao.

but honestly i think the real trouble starts when adam & belle’s SON gets older. i think he’s a big prankster and definitely takes this day too far sometimes. like he’d make everyone think a horse somehow escaped from the stables, when really he just hid her safely somewhere else. if he happened to be away (at school or what have you) he’d write ridiculous letters, saying he’s eloped with a spanish princess who visited the city! congratulate us!! (belle immediately knows it’s a prank because she sees the date on the letter and she KNOWS her son just wouldn’t do that. but adam definitely has a moment where his brain has a 404 Processing Error.)

maurice also definitely did stupid shit like bringing chickens into the west wing, and one year he literally brought a COW into the BALLROOM. adam nearly had a heart attack from this one. he was so upset he made maurice clean the entire ballroom floor BY HIMSELF. “go ask the maids where the cleaning supplies are, you’ve got til the end of the day.” LMAO. teenage maurice is a crazy kid. he keeps those parents of his on their toes! obsessed with him frankly.

he was also a very pranky kid toward his sisters. mainly renée, since she always had such big, annoyed reactions to his shenanigans. juliette was either like :/ or :( and that just made him feel bad lol. but reecy loooooves to push renée’s buttons, and i’m sure she dreads him on april fool’s day every year😮‍💨