#as always this chapter may be subject to change in the future

[persephone-writes]

A Diviner's Guide to James Potter

Chapter Two: The Heart Wants What it Wants

James Potter x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Chapter One - Chapter Three

Description: answers are few and far between, Sirius is in the trenches, and the Gryffindor quidditch team receives some good news

Word Count: 5.5k

You were never able to get much sleep, tossing and turning into the early hours of the morning. Just when you began to doze off, it seemed as though your mind forced you to remember the red and purple fish. Your half-sleeping imagination replayed the drop in your stomach when you finally discerned its meaning through the help of three separate books, and the confusion over the seemingly ambivalent fate which awaited you. While Lily did point out that Divination wasn’t a perfect science, you found that it always came true in one form or another. It would be possible to accept her suggestion if not for the aching feeling that had been building in your chest since midnight. 

As it started to grow light, you decided to give up on sleep. A pink and purple sunrise shown through your dormitory windows, the muntins breaking up the rays into little diamonds across the wooden floors. You dressed as quietly as you could, throwing on something halfway decent so you could go down to the Common Room and attempt to do something productive. You hauled with you your three Divination books, as well as your existing notes, setting them on one of the small tables. The fire was nearly out, only dimming embers remaining, so you threw on a few more logs. The howl of the wind blowing outside the tower whipped past the castle walls, skirting along the edges of the jagged stone. 

You opened up the large purple book, Crundlesmuck’s Lessons in Animal Divination , and flipped to the chapter on Ichthyomancy. Sifting through the pages, you tried to come across the passage you had read a thousand times over already, hoping that one more reading would provide further insight. You took a deep breath once you came upon it, preparing yourself for disappointment. 

“As the great Diviner Simon Bonk once professed, ‘...the lone fish may be like the wandering child in search of its mother, or, the snarling wolf in search of its next meal.’ Though Mr. Bonk is correct in his dual interpretation of the lone fish, one must not rely solely on numbers, but also colour, texture, smell, personality, aura, and accompaniment in order to truly make an accurate prediction. While the lone fish may very well represent the search for companionship, or the loss of it, if its colour is red or pink, the fortune could be of a romantic nature. However, if the lone red or pink fish was swimming south, the direction of the past, one may very well predict the subject of the future to run into a long lost sweetheart. Due north, however, may indicate the lone red fish's connections to a greater enemy, or the search for revenge which will soon be met. This would not be true if the fish were pink, of course, for such strong emotions are usually represented by the most saturated of colours. Further, if its scales reach the sunlight, reflecting into the viewer's eyes, this indicates a far more subdued outcome, or one which may come in the very near future. As you can see, a true diviner must combine all the necessary attributes in order to accurately use Ichthyomancy in their practice.”

“Merlin's beard,” you muttered to yourself, a hand coming to rub at your temples. It was all utterly nonsensical, at least to you. The chart on the side was no help, either. 

Red- Strong emotions such as love, hatred, anger, infatuation, resentment, etc., may include jealousy if paired with orange and blue. 

Pink- Lesser forms of love and other emotions, less influential than red.

Orange- Happiness and good fortune, strictly positive change.

Yellow- Confusion, frustration, a lack of knowledge.

Green- Jealousy, envy, greed, may indicate success in endeavors purposefully made or unintentional.  

Blue- Tranquility (though not necessarily without change), friendship, can indicate the natural world.

Purple- Power, tends to aid in the strength of other omens. 

Black- Death, change, dramatic shifts either positive or negative.

White- Purity, lack of change, consistency either positive, negative, or neutral, or its inverse in numbers of the double digits.

While you initially thought that the white fish had overridden the effects of the red and purple one, a whole school of them pointed more towards chaos than anything. No, you and Lily were correct; it was an awful omen indeed. Still, you closed Crundlesmuck’s Lessons in Animal Divination and opened another, hoping that someone could provide a more positive outlook on your situation. 

“White’s ability to have an opposite meaning should not be disregarded when analyzing omens, particularly when white appears nearby…” —The Unabridged Diary of the Late Seer Humphrey Holbert Sherbert Monty Jr., page 294

Surely, your third book could provide some answers. 

“...as Diviner Daisy Kettlebum professed one evening in her study in the spring of 1814, ‘red and purple may be one of the rarest pairings, yet the most powerful of them all’...We can see that the pairings of colours are most often more accurate indicators of fortune than the observation of a single colour.” —Colour Me Prophecy: A Witches and Wizards Guide to Colour in the Natural World, page 673

You wanted to rip your hair out, and you almost did until the portrait hole swung open. You checked the time, the clock on the wall reading five fifty-six. Students were not permitted outside the Common Room for another four minutes, although that seemed to not be an issue, for the portrait soon closed without a student emerging from it. Your eyes flashed towards your notes for a quick moment, catching your scribbled words: school of white + red and purple = bad! Your mind ran over a hundred scenarios of strange occurrences and awful happenings. Was the fruition of your omen about to ensue, a phantom which somehow got word of this week's password: Inepta Mustela?

You stood from your chair with a deep, shivering breath, walking around the table with careful steps. Nearing the portrait hole, hands slightly shaking, you craned your head around the corner. Without warning, James and Remus appeared suddenly from beneath the invisibility cloak, breaking out into a fit of unrestrained laughter. You gasped, clutching at your chest before catching up with the shock. You waited for them to stop their incessant giggling with your hands on your hips. 

“You gave me a heart attack!” you scolded, voice in a whisper. Neither took your same precautions, their volume rather loud for six in the morning. James wiped a tear from his eye as their laughter died down. Finally taking in their appearance, you saw that Remus was still wearing his pajama bottoms and a jumper, though James had the sense to at least throw on a pair of jeans. “What were you both doing out anyway? I thought you two were all buttoned up now, a Prefect and Head Boy.” You motioned to them, but Remus just rolled his eyes. 

“It was nothing too bad,” he said, dismissing your concerns. He threw himself down on the sofa, stretching his long legs out by the fire. You crossed your arms, staring at James with a disapproving press of your lips. He still had a smirk on his face and a blush across his cheeks from laughing. His expression practically forced you to smile. You shoved him as you walked back to your table. 

“What are you doing up?” James asked, taking a seat beside Remus. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” was all you said. 

James peered behind the couch at you, watching as you closed your books and piled up your work into a stack. “Is that for Divination?”

You glanced up, nearly smiling again at his head contorted in such a funny manner, tipped up and to the side. Remembering you hadn’t even looked in the mirror before you can down here, you hoped you didn’t appear too ghastly. You nodded at his question, taking the books into your arms and lugging them over to the area by the fireplace.  

“Yeah,” you finally answered, dropping them to the floor and sitting in one of the armchairs. “Figured I’d be productive rather than just tossing around till breakfast. I think I'm going to need more than three books, though.”

“We were productive as well,” James said with a grin.  

You raised your eyebrows. “Oh, yeah?”

"Mhm,” Remus answered, tight-lipped. “Got an early morning snack from the kitchens.”

“Breakfasts only in an hour and a half, you couldn’t wait?” You chuckled as Remus shook his head rather forcefully, playing with the sleeves of his jumper. 

“The heart wants what it wants.”

You left Remus and James to start getting ready for breakfast, knowing that Lily would be up by now. Thankfully, she never asked any questions when you came back into the dormitory carrying your stack of books, clearly having been up for quite some time. Dorcas was snoring from within the thin confines of her four-poster. Like most nights, she’d forgotten to cast a silencing charm. She’d blame it on simple forgetfulness, you on her sugar-high. 

You were still ill at ease when you walked down to breakfast with Lily, very much looking forward to a cup of tea. Paying attention in class would be a difficult task, your thoughts muddled with an anxiety well beyond repair. If Lily noticed your nerves, she didn’t comment on them, chatting with you about a healing potion she was learning about in Alchemy instead. 

In stark contrast to your own inner turmoil, there was a distinct air of excitement in the Great Hall despite the early hour. At the center of the long table at the head of the room, Dumbledore looked on as he did every morning, twinkling eyes darting beneath his half-moon glasses. A few minutes later, Dorcas, Marlene, and Mary came, the Marauders not far behind. Mary was in the year below you all, and Dorcas had taken a liking to her meek manner, seeming to make her sole purpose in life to get Mary out of her shell. 

James and Remus looked rather tired as they wandered over to their seats. You smiled to yourself as they sat down, James laying his head on the table for a brief moment before he picked it back up again. He noticed you staring and narrowed his eyes, pushing up his glasses by its bridge. You smiled, shaking your head before returning your attention back to Dorcas. 

“Fueling up already?” you said, watching her take a bite of an apple turnover. 

She nodded, washing it down with some tea and swallowing with a single, large gulp. “I’ve got to be on my game for tomorrow. Can’t be letting those Hufflepuffs think we’re slacking.”

Hufflepuff won the quidditch House Cup last year and the entire Gryffindor team was committed to not letting it happen again. James in particular was quite serious about the matter, grabbing up any time on the pitch that he could manage. Monsieur Button, the flying instructor and referee, was growing increasingly tired of James standing outside of his office first thing every Monday morning, when the weekly practice schedules were made up. 

“That's right, Meadows,” said James with the same eagerness. “All you better be thinking about from now until tomorrow morning is the Grumblesnad.”

“Don’t worry, Captain, it’s burned into my brain. I’ll be recalling your flight maneuvers on my deathbed.” 

James shook his head, stabbing his fork into his sausage rather violently. “No one respects their elders anymore.”

“You’re only a week older than me,” Dorcas said with her mouth half full. 

“You can build a lot of wisdom in a week,” Peter laughed. 

“And I’m older than all of you,” Sirius interjected. “So, by all rights, I should be your superior, James. Just going by your own logic.”

“Then we need better logic,” you added, Lily nodding in agreement. 

Through the large door, the daily influx of owls came sailing overhead and dropping off the post. Your owl swooped low, placing a copy of the Daily Prophet directly into your lap. You were undoing the ties when you heard Remus’s solemn voice from down the table. 

“Just wait till we get back from classes,” he said softly to Sirius, who was sitting beside him. 

Sirius’s eyes were cast down towards a letter in his hand. You saw the green wax seal and knew what lay inside. You lamented the fact his parents had to write him the day before a match. His once cheerful face had drooped, his color poor and drained. He let his long hair cover his face, not bothering to brush it back behind his ears. He slipped the letter into his bag and turned back to his friends, who were all motionless where they sat. You looked away as you saw James's expression of tribulation, sensing that watching any longer was an intrusion on a moment not meant for you to be privy to. 

You opened up the paper, reading the title of the front page article, inked in thick, dark letters: DARK MARK SEEN OVER STRING OF MUGGLE MURDERS. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Sirius’s mood continued throughout Charms. You had a clear view of him across the aisle, his sullen, gray eyes half lidded and distant as they stared out into space. Once in a while, they lifted as something Professor Flitwick said grabbed his attention, though they often unfocused. Periodically, Remus would whisper something to him, or James would give him a gentle nudge with a smile. Sometimes Sirius would respond, though mostly he looked as if he were all alone, ghost-like and listless. 

You gazed out of the large window behind Flitwick, watching the Forbidden Forest sway softly in the breeze. A few evergreens colored the mass of brown boughs and hefty trunks, though most of the brush remained drab. It was a dreary day out, typical for this time of year, but no less disappointing. As your gaze followed the treeline, you wondered what that bloody fish was doing right now. 

You weren’t sure if you were thankful or loathsome for the mid-morning break between classes. Some studying could serve as ample distraction, or just bore you into thinking about Divination. At least you didn’t have that today, leaving all weekend to avoid the subject if you so wished. You walked out of class with Lily, though she had to leave to go to Ancient Runes with Remus and Marlene. The rest of the boys were nowhere to be found, James and Sirius likely off to the quidditch pitch to get some practice in before tomorrow morning. Alone, you weasled through the crowd of students, passing through an array of corridors towards the Astronomy Tower. Usually, it was only open for classes, but being in the Astronomy Club had its perks. You hoped no one would be up there, though it would be strange in February.  The chill would be particularly nipping from high up in the tower, making it a far less appealing choice to hide out in than in autumn or spring. The temperature made no difference to you, however. You just wanted to be alone, and maybe smoke a cigarette or two.  

You sat up against the wall, your red and gold scarf sitting just below your mouth. Your Transfiguration book was opened in your lap, a piece of parchment laying on one of the pages. A cigarette hung from your lips, burned all the way to the filter. You were taking notes on advanced forms of Transfiguration, cursing McGonagall for making you learn how to create an object from thin air by the end of term. Deep in concentration, you nearly missed a single crow fly by the tower a few times before landing on the railing. When it shifted its position, you caught the black blur in your peripheral, eyes coming up to meet it. Black and beady, they stared, unwavering and with an eerily human conviction. You continued to stare, transfixed by its commanding presence against the gray sky. After a few moments it made a single, harsh call before lifting up in flight, swooping down along the tower and out of sight. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

You slammed your book shut, shoving everything in your bag and stomping out of the tower, feet hitting heavy against the steps. You were huffing to yourself, muttering curses at the crow as you continued down the hall. The idea that you were truly going mad crossed your mind as you noticed a few odd glances from other students loitering in the halls. You were well aware many would have already been calling you such if they knew you were putting even a single ounce of belief in Divination. However, it all was beginning to seem undeniable now. Something bad was bound to occur, a twisting pit growing in your stomach as you thought this fact over. You ran through every possibility: death, destruction, war, famine, but it all seemed equally plausible. 

You mindlessly paced, fogged with a thousand contradicting explanations, the web spinning into something far more complicated than you were prepared to handle. Lost in your rumination, you hadn’t noticed you were walking straight into someone until you stumbled backward, nearly falling before an arm caught yours just in time. You looked up to see Sirius standing above you, a small smile beginning to form on his face. 

“A little spacey this morning, I see,” he joked, pulling you back up to standing. You let out a short breath from your nose, straightening out your robes. 

“Yeah, you could say that.” You didn’t intend to sound so snappy, frowning a bit as you saw the look upon his face and remembering what had transpired over breakfast. You considered the fact that he wasn’t at the pitch with James. If anything could clear his head, it’d be a low stakes training session. “I’m sorry, Sirius. I’ve just had a bad day is all.”

“That makes two of us,” he said, glancing down at his shoes for a moment. 

“Yeah,” you began, not knowing if you should bring up what happened over breakfast. You reasoned that you had each known each other for long enough to not have to dance around the issue, at least not anymore. You knew enough about his family and his stay with the Potters to put the pieces together yourself; and you could be sure that he knew that you knew, making the whole mystery of it rather pointless. You licked your lips, unsure how to carry yourself as you spoke, “I saw that you got something from your parents.”

He nodded, eyes as distant as they were in Charms. He had not tensed up or retreated, demeanor very much unchanged. “I still haven’t opened it. I think I’m gonna wait till Sunday.”

“That's a good idea,” you said. “Why let them spoil the whole weekend.”

You wondered why he planned on opening it at all. If it were you, you’d throw it into the Common Room hearth and be done with it. However, you decided not to voice this opinion, feeling it quite out of your place. 

“Knowing them, they did it on purpose. Reg probably told ‘em we had a match or something.” He let out a breathy laugh with little humor behind it. “What’s got you so distracted?”

You sighed, not quite knowing what to say or how much to reveal. “Nothing, just Divination. I’ll get over it.”

“Find out anything more?”

You shook your head. You knew you ought to return the favor; vulnerability for vulnerability, but you didn't want to put it on him right now. Sirius wandered over to the wall, zigzagging around until he leaned against it. With his legs outstretched, his gray uniform pants rose up above his ankles, revealing two different colored socks, white and navy blue. You eyed them with a mild amusement, following him over and leaning against the wall a few paces away. You both stared out of the wavy window glass silently, each stewing in your own unfavorable situations. You found yourself looking towards him, studying his profile that you had seen a million times before. 

You wondered why you didn’t like Sirius but were so absurdly smitten with James. You thought it might be easier to like Sirius, who you knew would agitate you far too much to seriously date. It would be easy to put him on a shelf, to throw the hope away. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

You rolled your eyes to hide your embarrassment, turning away. Now he was the one staring at you, his gaze dragging across your cheek. 

“I’m sorry, Sirius,” you said, voice quiet. You didn’t see his brows knit or his eyes grow soft, continuing on with your apology, “I know I’m not what you need right now. I feel silly moping about because of Divinations of all things.”

“It’s all right,” he began, kicking off the wall to face you. “If it’s any consolation, I think the whole things rubbish. Who cares what color the fish are?”

“It’s how many, too,” you said between a faint laugh.

He was standing a ways in front of you now, shifting his weight between his feet. “It’s all random. No need to worry yourself into a fit over it.”

Your face was blank, nodding without really believing him. He walked backwards a few steps, hands stuffed into the pockets of his robe. 

“I’ll see you later, hot stuff,” he said, spinning around to walk properly. “And don’t use that head of yours too much!” 

You watched him go, not saying anything in return. You felt awful for him right now, far more so than you did for yourself. While you disagreed with him on the legitimacy of Divination, he was right about one thing: it was silly to worry this much about a project for class. You were forgetting one of the biggest aspects of Divination, that the future can always change. A prophecy is one thing, but you were no Seer. Simply reading a fortune through any means wasn’t enough to solidify a specific outcome. You had time to change the direction of the future, the only problem being you didn’t have the slightest idea what to change. 

It wasn’t like when Professor Quattlebaum told you that you’d get soaking wet by the end of the day in fourth year. Then, you had just brought an umbrella with you. However, now that you got to thinking of it, your efforts then had been in vain. All day you had carried it with you, pleased when you and Lily were shielded from a surprise rain shower halfway through your walk about the grounds. Only, as you each headed back inside the castle, umbrella lowered, a duel between two seventh years broke out in the corridor. One had cast Aguamenti at his opponent, missing him entirely and soaking you to the bone. At least the arsehole got detention for it. You had trudged back to the Common Room, robes dripping and heavy, debating if you should go back to Quattlebaum’s office and give him a piece of your mind. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

You were walking to the Great Hall with Peter for lunch, each just having left from History of Magic. Like Divination, only you and he were still taking the class. Unfortunately, Peter was not as enthusiastic about the subject as you were. You and he were packed like sardines in the hallways, breaking through the bottleneck just as James, without warning, came bounding up behind you. He practically ran into your back before stepping in stride to your left. He buzzed as if a gleeful charge was running through him from his toes to the tip of his nose. The three of you stopped walking, forcing a few grumbling students to move past your huddle. 

“You’re chipper,” you commented, laughing as he shrugged. He was always hyper, but this was a bit extreme even for him. Lily, Remus, and Marlene soon caught up to you, their faces all bearing the same sly grin. You gave him an odd glance, looking between him and the others. 

“Excited for the match?” asked Peter. James shrugged again, a smile still on his face.

“That's part of it,” he said, bouncing a bit on his toes. Lily shook her head at him.

“Come on,” you begged the others. “What?”

“Daniel told me he heard from Caelum Waterson, who's a fifth year Hufflepuff, that Corey Luxfire’s in the Hospital Wing with a wicked spout of dragon pox,” James explained excitedly. Corey Luxfire was the best beater on the Hufflepuff team and the likeliest reason Gryffindor would have to lose. He was also a rather talented painter, head of the Hufflepuff Art Club.

“That's excellent!” you began. “Oh, but not for Corey.”

“Screw Corey,” Peter said happily. “He’ll recover– eventually.” 

Lily tsked, Marlene laughing at Corey’s ill fated sickness. 

“I’ll send him some flowers,” James assured, head poking towards yours. “Would that appease you?”

You pretended to think it over for a moment, hand on your chin in contemplation. “Yes, it would.”

James smiled, placing a heavy arm behind your neck, his hand placed upon your right shoulder. You hoped he’d take it off before his fingertips nearly burned five small holes through your jumper. You couldn’t bear for Lily to see you like this, as she was the last person in the whole world, besides James, that you wanted to know about your stupid infatuation. He tugged at you a bit, trying to get you to look at him again.

“What?”  

“Nothing,” he said after a beat, dropping his hand away with a laugh. 

“You’re very odd today.” You side-eyed him, wondering if he was planning on pranking you or something of the sort, especially after his joy at seeing you jump out of your skin this morning.

“What else is new,” Remus said, smiling to himself. James glared at him before turning back to you. 

“Just trying to cheer you up,” he said. You gave him a small, kind smile, appreciating the gesture. 

As you rounded the corner, Dorcas and Mary were revealed to be sitting on the stone lip along one of the walls. Dorcas left Mary with a short word of goodbye upon seeing your group, running up happily to James with the same buzz. 

“Did you hear–?”

“Yep, Daniel just told me,” James answered, not letting her finish. Dorcas practically jumped up and down, beginning to walk backwards in front of you down the corridor. You heard Marlene’s distinctly girlish giggle beside Lily. 

“They’ve got no chance without him,” Dorcas said with a wolfish grin. “Last year he took me out for good, the bloody knobsnarker. It was the only reason we lost. And he gave me a bruise the size of a melon. But the whole team's rubbish except for Corey.”

James hummed, head bobbing from side to side. “Poppy’s not too bad of a seeker.”

“She’s no match for me, though. We’ve got it in the bag tomorrow.” Dorcas smirked, turning on her heels and butting her way between you and James. She threw an arm around your shoulders just as James had, glancing down at you with a pestering look in her eyes. “You’ve got to promise me you’ll get good and drunk tomorrow night after I win.”  

You laughed, shaking your head. “I don’t know, no promises. Maybe if Sirius makes that potion…even then you’ll have to bribe me.” Sirius made the best hangover cure in all of Hogwarts, but it was a pain in the arse and took forever to brew. You practically had to beg him to give you some every time you needed it, and that only worked about half the time. He had the tendency to hoard it for the especially bad mornings and would only give it up if you were on your deathbed.

“I’ll steal some for you,” James offered. “I know where his stash is.”

“He might have charmed it. You know how protective he is over the stuff,” you remind him, though James didn’t seem to consider that enough of a deterrent. “Where is he, anyway?”

James, Remus, and Peter stalled for a moment, Remus speaking up first, “I don’t know. He said he’d meet James at the pitch, but he never showed.”

You were just about to tell them you saw him in the hall, but Peter interrupted. 

“He’s probably off snogging Seraphina ,” he drawled, her name spoken like a curse. James groaned, a disgusted look upon his face. 

“She seems nice enough,” said Lily in her defense. 

“And a drag,” James countered. “Even you’re more fun than she is.”

Lily scoffed at the comparison. “You’re a real tosser, you know that?”

“Here we go,” said Remus.

You snickered, sharing a glance with Marlene. No wonder they broke up , said her eyes. At least they're still friends , yours replied.

“I will have you know that I am loads of fun, right Marls?” Lily asked, turning to her friend. Marlene nodded quickly, raising her chin at James. 

“Yes, she is, Potter. Wizards chess and extracurricular academic reading are very exciting and quite the riot!” 

You started laughing along with the others, though Lily remained straight faced. You didn’t notice her winding up for a sucker punch until it was too late. 

“Yeah, and Y/N is too. We all know how much the Astronomy Club helps you wind down and let loose.”

James howled, as did Dorcas, whose arm grew a bit tighter round your shoulders. You shoved it off, scoffing as Peter continued to snort. You ought to have called them all nerds, as Lily and James consistently got better marks than you, and your grades were on par with Remus and Marlene’s, but you decided to let it slide. A good jab was a good jab.  

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

After the double period of DADA, everyone was done with classes for the day, all light on their feet as the weekend neared its beginning. You and Lily we set to go to the library like you did most Friday’s after class, trying to convince Dorcas to come along. 

“It’ll be fun,” Lily begged, moving out of the way for some other students to pass. Dorcas shook her head, looking back at James and Sirius who were itching to leave. It was most certainly not Dorcas's idea of fun to spend an afternoon at the library of all places, though Lily never ceased her efforts. You swore you’d only seen Dorcas there once or twice during your entire stint at Hogwarts. 

“I’m going to the pitch, you wanker. Potter'll kill me if I don’t!” She looked back at the Marauders, James waving her on anxiously. He hopped up a few times in the air, his movements increasing in their intensity. 

Lily's hands came to her hips, peering over Dorcas’s shoulder at James. He had turned back to the others, still antsy, but listening to something Remus was saying. 

“Potter!” Lily shouted. James turned quickly, his tie undone and swinging onto one shoulder. “Can’t you spare Dorcas for an hour?” 

James sighed, eyes rolling back as he slouched forward. “No, Evans , I can’t! We just barely got the time away from the Hufflepuffs!” He glanced between you and Lily before piping up again, “Wanna come and watch?” 

Lily scoffed. “You’re sounding more and more like Sirius these days.”

James shrugged with a teasing grin, looking towards you. “Come on, don’t you wanna see your best mate in action?” He moved around like he was on a broom before adjusting the bag slung across his shoulder. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow at the match,” you reminded him. “And who says you’re my best mate?”

Sirius smiled a genuine, full smile, and it made you happy to know your insult towards James is what did it. Remus made a pained face as if he had just watched James fall from his imaginary broom. 

“ Uh! ” James gasped, taking a few heavy steps closer. “I said you’re my new favorite, does that mean anything to you?”

Godric, why does he have to do this? You really wished this little schtick could end so you could go back to pretending James didn’t even like you all that much.

“You both can fight about it later,” said Lily, linking your arms. “We’ve got to nab the good tables before the first years hog them.”

“Have fun,” Dorcas said with a wave, walking towards Sirius. James stood and shook his head at you. 

“I’ll see you!” you called to no one in particular. Lily dropped your arm and you both began to speed walk towards the library. Halfway there you could feel her staring at you through the corner of your eye. You sighed, glancing over. She had an odd, uncharacteristic smirk upon her face. You didn’t know whether you should be frightened or not. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” she said, her skirt dancing to and fro as she walked.

Chapter Three

[glossdebut]

Take a Bite Ch. 1

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: Your fledgling career as a music journalist is finally going in some kind of direction that must be on the path to success. Your coworkers like you enough to invite you out on Fridays, your boss is starting to think you’re competent enough to let you score a few bylines, and you're finally getting the hang of InDesign. All of your hard work, late nights, and complete lack of a social life are starting to pay off... Even if it all came at the expense of the longest relationship of your life. Fine. You've accepted the fact that romance isn't for you, under any circumstances. You won't risk your career for anybody. Not even Min Yoongi.

✧ TAGS: slow burn, eventual smut, eventual romance, producer yoongi, music journalist reader, neighbors to friends to lovers? you'll see, reader is bad at feelings, reader is post-break up

✧ WARNINGS: social drinking, mechanical bull-related injuries lol

✧ WORDCOUNT: 2.7k so far

✧ STATUS: complete

✧ AUTHOR'S NOTE: hi! i'm aqua and this is my first ever fic so please be nice!! i will be crossposting this work and all future works on my ao3 of the same name. i'm figuring out how this works as i go, so please be patient with me. tags are subject to change with every update. i won't have a posting schedule for this one, but i have the first few chapters pre-written, so expect an update sometime next week!

Chapter 1: Lay Your Cards Down, Down, Down, Down

Although this is the furthest thing from your scene, you can’t help but think to yourself that you should invest in some cowboy boots. You could make them work, you’re sure of it.

Even if you know you would never pull the trigger on purchasing any, too far out of the comfort zone of your normal style, the thought is the only thing keeping you sane—that, and the sound of Cowboy Carter blasting through the speakers of the bar, a welcome reprieve from the drawling, boring country anthems you’d been suffering through for the past hour or so. 

You pride yourself on seeing the merit in all genres of music, you do. You were always the type of person who puffed up her chest when you told people ‘I listen to everything,’ uncaring of how pretentious it may sound. You mean it. It’s an asset in your line of work, and as far as you’re concerned, a little bit of pretentiousness is a small price to pay for the, quite frankly, baller route your fledgling career is heading in. 

But a Western bar? Not the kind of place you’d spend a precious Friday night willingly. Another hazard of the job.

After months of skillfully avoiding the weekly Friday nights out with the other rookie reporters at the magazine, you’d run out of excuses not to join them. If four years studying communications taught you anything, it was that connections are everything in the journalism business. Even more so where the music industry is concerned.

So here you are, at your fourth stop of your night of bar hopping with your extroverted and extremely drunk coworkers, nursing warm beer and observing from the least populated corner you managed to scout upon entry. All things considered, you had been a good sport at the three previous stops. You just draw the line at square dancing with the people you work with. College may have beaten your fear of impromptu phone calls and talking to strangers out of you, but your social battery can only take so much. 

Your phone battery, too, you think bitterly as you stare down at the low battery warning on your screen. Okay, so you’ll finish your shitty beer (because you’re not quite successful enough yet to afford wasting alcohol that you’re paying for) and then use your phone’s remaining juice to catch an Uber home. No biggie.

You’re in the middle of turning off your phone with full intent to work out the kinks of your exit strategy when you realize, with irritation, that your chosen corner is about to be invaded.

Your eyes land on a pair of black Jordans ( in a Western bar? your mind supplies, as if you have any room to judge in your Docs) and travel up, past torn black jeans and a black shirt, and just when you’re sensing a theme with this guy, your eyes reach a head of (regrettably, very nice) black hair and a pair of the darkest eyes you’ve ever seen. Anish Kapoor would wail at the sight of these eyes, you think.

As if sensing your apprehension, your corner-thief raises his free hand (the other clutching a plastic cup of his own) palm out, as if to say ‘I come in peace’ and stops in his tracks.

“I can find another spot,” corner-thief says, the low rumbling of his voice barely audible above Texas Hold ‘Em. “I’m just waiting for one of my friends to get bored or injured so I can leave.”

“Injured,” you repeat, despite your better judgment to take him up on his offer and let him be on his way. But your phone is dead and you’re a little bit drunk, bored, and even for an unwanted partner in social evasion, this guy is nicer to look at than the frat guys playing beer pong you’ve been observing for the better part of an hour.

Corner-thief grins a stupidly charming gummy smile, leaning just the slightest bit closer to be heard better but still keeping a respectful distance. As if he’s still wary that you’ll lunge at him if he encroaches on your space any further. Good man.

“There’s a mechanical bull upstairs,” he says, using his index finger on the hand holding his cup to point at the ceiling above you both.

Of course there is. With your luck, you’ll also have to peel someone off of the floor later after going head-to-head with the bull.

“Not your thing?” you guess, glancing pointedly at his Jordans, and he shakes his head, huffing through his nose in what you can only guess is a laugh.

“No, I wouldn’t say so.” 

He pauses, shifting from foot to foot for a moment before speaking again. “So, will you share your wall? I can look around again but this place is more packed than I would’ve pegged it for.”

You nod and he smiles again thankfully, taking the spot on the wall next to you. That should be it. Two strangers who don’t want to be here standing in companiable silence next to each other while they wait for their friends–or coworkers, in your case–to put them out of their misery and let them go home.

But… You consider your options, your phone taking its dying breath in your pocket, and you sigh, turning to him.

“Y/N,” you say, holding out your hand for him to shake. 

He takes it with his free hand, giving you an amused look. “Yoongi.”

“What’s that look for?”

He laughs again, a little bit more this time, and your heart does a stupid, funny thing. “I don’t think I’ve ever been greeted by a pretty girl in a bar with a handshake,” he says, causing you to flush and pull your hand away as if it’d been burned, your shoulders tensing as you take a sip of your beer. 

A western bar certainly isn’t your scene, but admittedly, neither are bars or clubs in general. You got all of that out of your system in college where everyone was awkward as fuck or too drunk to care that you were, and ever since you got your degree you have lived and breathed your work. Your social skills were never quite up to par, but you didn’t realize you were this fucking embarrassing.

“I came out with coworkers right after we got off, so I think I’m still kind of in work mode,” you lie, and as if sensing that you feel slightly made fun of, Yoongi shakes his head.

“I didn’t mean it as a bad thing, swear,” he says, tilting his head at you. Dark eyes considering you. “Honestly, I’m thankful you’re putting up with me at all. I don’t think I’d be so kind if the roles were reversed. I know firsthand how hard it is to find a spot to breathe in places like this.”

You feel your shoulder muscles relax just the slightest bit. “I thought about sending you away, but I couldn’t help it. My heart aches when I see an introvert in need of a hiding spot,” you attempt to joke. 

“At least I’m out with friends,” he says sympathetically. “I’ve done the coworker thing before. It’s a drag.”

“It’s weird ,” you correct. “I mean, I sit in meetings with these people. I avoid answering their emails all day. Why is it considered rude to not want to see them piss drunk?”

Yoongi hums in agreement, nodding his head. “What do you do, anyway?”

“I work for Look Here Magazine,” you reply, straightening up a bit in pride when Yoongi’s eyes flash with recognition, his body turning so his shoulder is against the wall now. You turn as well, facing him. “I write for the music section.”

“No shit? I’ve probably read your stuff, then,” Yoongi says, grinning. 

He’s cute. Hot. You can’t help but notice, no matter how hard you’re trying not to. The way that he seems to carry himself in particular, you think, might end up driving you crazy if you’re exposed to it for too long. Maybe you’ve been living under a rock, but you’ve never met a fellow wallflower that still exuded such confidence. He wears it insanely well.

“Look Here covers a lot of big artists,” you hear him continue. “I’m a little surprised you’re hugging the wall, honestly. This place is nothing compared to music industry parties.”

“Ah, I only started a few months ago,” you admit, looking down into your cup. “Not a lot of bylines yet. I haven’t made it into a room with an artist that big yet.”

“But you want to,” Yoongi guesses, and you nod, looking up to meet his eyes. He looks impressed, impressed by you , and that… does something to you. Huh. “Shit, that’s… That’s really cool.”

“Thanks,” you say. You can feel your cheeks heating up again, and you’re suddenly very eager to turn the attention away from yourself. “What about you? What do you do?”

“Ah,” Yoongi says, fixing his eyes to his cup just as you had a moment ago. “I’m a music producer, actually.”

You perk up at that. So that’s why he reads Look Here, why he seemed so interested when you told him what you do. 

“Anything I’ve heard?” you ask, leaning in like he’s about to tell you a secret. Networking never stops.

He watches as you lean, his mouth turning up at the corners in a smirk. “Probably.” 

You wait for more, but it doesn’t come. Shithead. So much for that.

“You’ve gotta give me more than that,” you say, and god, you can hear the pout in your own voice. Are you that drunk? Flirting for a lead in a story?

“I don’t,” Yoongi says simply, his smirk in full force now. Mean and annoying and hot. He hasn’t leaned away from you yet. “I want to know more about you, actually. Journalism is hard work. I’m surprised you have time to go out like this.”

“Like I said, I was forced.”

“Still. Spending time with your friends or family or partner or whatever must take priority when it comes to your free time.”

Why is he so interested? You scrunch your nose, trying to figure out what he could be fishing for here. You don’t make it a habit to divulge the details of your sad excuse for a personal life to strangers, but the alcohol has loosened your lips. Maybe you need to talk about it. It’s not like you’ll ever see him again, anyway.

“My family is back home. My best friend is this insanely talented playwright. She’s constantly traveling. I see her when she can get some time to fly out.” You take a quick sip of your drink, ignoring the pang in your chest. Sometimes it sneaks up on you, how lonely you are. “Other than her, it’s just me, really. The dating thing… Nobody really seems to get how demanding my job can be, and it always ends in hurt feelings.”

There’s a long pause, and you’re worried you’ve shared too much. You’re enjoying talking to Yoongi. You know it doesn’t matter, that you’ll likely never see him again, but it would really, really suck if his permanent mental image of you ends up being ‘lonely weird drunk girl,’ even if that’s what you are. You force yourself to look up at him. The look in his eyes makes your heart flip stupidly again.

“I get that,” he says, and his voice is soft, barely audible over the music filling the space. You’re reading his lips more than anything, honestly, and you don’t let yourself look at them for too long. He may be pretty—unbearably so, you’re realizing—but he’s a stranger. A mean, annoying, hot, pretty stranger, but a stranger nonetheless. Every guy says he gets it. This needs to stay what it is, you think. Momentary companionship between introverts who would rather die than square dance.

You don’t get much time to agonize over it. Whatever is going on between you and Yoongi is intercepted quickly by his phone buzzing in his pocket and his responding grimace when he pulls it out to check it.

“Namjoon fell off of the mechanical bull,” he says, like he’s completely unsurprised by that news. He downs the rest of his drink and pockets his phone again, pushing off of the wall. “I’ve gotta deal with that.”

You nod, pulling what you hope is a sympathetic face. “Good luck.”

His bottom lip catches between his teeth, and you hold your breath. He looks like he wants to say something, torn between rushing upstairs to save his friend and staying, just for a moment.

You think you know what he wants to say, think foolishly that maybe he wants to ask for your number, and you honestly don’t know if you’d give it to him if he did. You’re so used to saying no.

He runs his fingers through his hair, opens his mouth to speak, and then he looks down like his phone is buzzing again. When he looks back up, it seems like he’s thought better of it.

“Thanks for sharing your wall,” he settles on, smiling congenially. You smile back, and then he’s heading towards the stairs.

Good, you think. You know better. If he really gets it, he does too.

★ ★ ★

You’re dragged out to one more bar before you finally make it home, your interaction with Yoongi having knocked you off-kilter enough to agree to a few more drinks.

It does wonders for your social status at work, you’re sure, but by the time you’re dropped off you’re dizzy-drunk, fighting to stay upright in the elevator of your apartment building.

You’re fumbling and failing at getting your key into the lock of your front door, tongue poking out of the corner of your mouth in concentration, when a voice calling your name a few feet to your right almost makes you jump out of your skin.

You yell, clutching your chest, and when you turn to face the owner of the voice that almost made you lose the contents of your stomach on your doormat, you’re greeted by none other than corner-thief-mean-annoying-hot-pretty Yoongi himself, leaning against the door to the apartment two doors down.

“What the fuck,” you blurt out dumbly, and he laughs. At you! How dare he stand there, lean there, all hot and annoying and in your apartment building for some fucking reason and laugh at you.

“I was going to ask if you needed help,” he says, and oh, fuck. You were safe from just how deep his voice was under the thrum of the music at the bar, but in the quiet of your apartment building this late, you can hear it just fine. Feel it, even. Feel it in places you do not want to humor right now. “I’m going to take a wild guess and say you do.”

It’s obvious that Yoongi is faring much better than you are, although his night clearly didn’t end after the mechanical bull incident. Faster than you can react, he’s right in front of you, gently taking your key from your hands and turning it in the lock, like it’s easy.

“Gonna make it in okay?” he asks, looking down at you. You force your brain to make words.

“I’ll be okay,” you assure him, your tongue heavy in your mouth. “Are you stalking me?”

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “I think we’re neighbors.”

“Oh.” Oh. Okay. That’s fine. Just because he’s your neighbor doesn’t mean you have to do something stupid, like see him ever again.

“Give me your number,” he says softly. Oh.

You blink at him, and he grins. Gummy smile. You feel like you’re going to vomit all over his Jordans.

“In case you ever can’t use your keys again,” he clarifies. “I told you, those music industry parties are killer.”

And really, you’re powerless to resist. You give him your number, using all of your remaining brain power to remember the order of the digits. Seemingly satisfied, Yoongi pockets his phone and steps back, heading back to his front door.

“Goodnight, neighbor,” he says, unlocking his door with ease. “Sleep on your side.”

You swallow thickly and nod, slipping inside your own apartment as quickly as you can manage. 

Once you’re in, you sink onto the floor, your back pressed against the door behind you. Your cat, perched on your coffee pot, stares at you in your drunk, flustered state, unimpressed. Offended, even, judging by the way she licks her paw.

You’re so fucked.

✧ shoot me a reply or an ask if you enjoyed this chapter! feedback is always appreciated <3 join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future chapters!

PREVIOUS CHAPTER ✧ MASTERLIST ✧ NEXT CHAPTER

[graciereadshannigram]

hey fam, welcome to the April 2024 roundup of the best hannigram fics i've read this past month! i read over 100 fics total, and these were the cream of the crop.

as a reminder: the ingredients for a five star rating typically (but not always!!) include some combination of a.) believable characterizations of both Hannibal and Will, b.) compelling plot and/or character arcs, and c.) high quality smut.

that being said, my judgment of the aforementioned ingredients is powered almost exclusively by vibes and as such, is incredibly subjective.

you can find past recs below:

February March

and if you have any recs of your own for me, PLEASE SHARE.

anyway, in no particular order, let's go!

~

A place you can never go by det395

Word Count: 84,596 Summary: When things don’t go according to plan, Hannibal makes a wish. He finds himself a year-and-a-half in the past and seemingly given another chance with Will. His feelings about the situation only get more complicated when he realizes he may not have completely lost access to his old timeline after all. A Digestivo canon divergence.

If you follow me, you probably saw me already raving about this fic. This was so fucking good, holy fucking shit. And also heartbreaking. Made me think a lot about the nature of reality and what does it mean for something to be "real." Plus, I really love fics that explore their shared mind palace because I genuinely think that is one of the more underexplored aspects of their relationship. Definitely heavy on the angst, but there is a happy ending!

even though our love is doomed by bleakmidwinter

Word Count: 82,427 Summary: Hannibal solves the mystery of time travel and he and Will decide to go into the past and take opportunities previously missed along with rewriting the regrets they each hold. Changing the past does not effect the future and they have free reign to play as the please.

GIVE ME MORE THAN FIVE STARS PLEASE. I am obsessed with this fic. I've mostly stayed clear of time travel fics (aside from, you know, the one right above this) because the execution can be hit or miss, but let me fucking tell you. This was a god damn home run. There's a little bit of angst, but then there's also a chapter where Will challenges Hannibal that he wouldn't have been able to seduce him while Will was still working in Louisiana fixing boat motors. And obviously Hannibal decides to take that challenge.

Railroad Romance by OneWhoSitsWithTurtles

Word Count: 12,400 Summary: Hannibal is still Hannibal, and Will is still Will. Except Will is not part of the FBI and they meet on a two day train trip from New Orleans to Baltimore.

Dirty. Talk. In. FRENCH. Holy shit. Okay this was excellent. EXCELLENT. Perfect characterizations, and wonderful dialogue. Wow. Also, I love trains. Who doesn't love trains?

patroclus in furs by bleakmidwinter

Word Count: 130,185 Summary: If Will and Hannibal hadn't gone into their respective careers, they would have become porn stars.

I had my doubts about a pornstar AU, but I've really enjoyed everything else by this author and it was over 100k, so I gave it a shot! And WOW. The characterizations of both Will and Hannibal were spot on and believable. A good mix of fluff and angst, and the author clearly put a lot of thought into the porn scenes. Tbh I'm probably going to reread this shortly.

Pavlova by nbcravenstag

Word Count: 33,369 Summary: It’s not like Hannibal didn’t know that Will was hiding something. It was after the third body drop a week ago that it became clear that Will had a secret that somehow involved the case, one he wasn’t willing to share yet, not even with Hannibal. At 6:43 AM, Will had texted Hannibal that a fourth body had been found and that he was on his way to the scene with Jack. At 8:06 PM, Will had stepped into Hannibal’s office, thirty-six minutes past his appointment time, and practically shouted “I used to be a stripper!” as loudly as his hoarse voice would allow him to. Hannibal Lecter, though not phased by much in life, has never been entirely able to predict Will Graham, but this is just… getting out of control. Alternatively, the FBI is hunting a serial killer targeting male strippers, and Will decides to throw himself into the fray. Hannibal is beyond pleased.

An AU where Will was a stripper in college and now he's working a case where he can be live bait as a stripper? Shut the fuck up. Mostly told from Hannibal's perspective, and it's just *chefs kiss*. Who knew Will giving Hannibal a lap dance would be so HOT. (I could have guessed.)

Lessons In Submission by wyldefire

Word Count: 5,173 Summary: Hannibal was stubborn, independent, and Will had always loved that about him, but there were times, times like these, in the midst of heat, in the midst of such a thorough breeding, when lessons in submission were necessary.

My only thought at the end of this was, "Shut the whole fuck up" in the best way possible. Smut. Just all smut.

A Very Special Guest by LesBeanBurrito

Word Count: 56,660 Summary: Season 1 AU in which Will stays for Hannibal’s dinner party after bringing the bottle of wine at the end of 1X07 Sorbet. Embarrassed and Sassy Will Graham meets Smitten Hannibal Lecter.

I LOVE a good season 1 AU and this was checking all of the boxes for me! There's a secret relationship, Hannibal actually gets Will treated for his encephalitis, Will finds out about Hannibal, etc. Very much loved the plot, and the characterizations were spot on.

lover to your nightmare (look what you made of me) by merrythoughts and ReallyMissCoffee

Word Count: 123,367 Summary: Driving back home, it’s then he reflects on Hannibal asking him to run away that night. To forgo their plans altogether, to slip away. [Canon divergent. Will confesses his betrayal and asks Hannibal to run away with him, but Will has a plan of his own...]

You want dark!Will mixed in with some incredibly jealous and possessive Hannigram? Hooo boy do I have a fic for you! The ending was a little abrupt, but it was the perfect mix of gut-wrenching angst and toxicity + smoking hot smut. I genuinely had to stop and focus on my breathing more than once.

On the Lam by shotgun_sinner

Word Count: 63,992 Summary: Post-Fall (Hannibal)season 4Crack Treated SeriouslyOn the RunWill Graham Discovers FanfictionExplicit Sexual Contentsexual identity crisisThat's Not Really A CrisisWill Graham is HannisexualMurder HusbandsHomophobiaMurder of a HomophobeHannibal Lecter Loves Will GrahamWill Graham Loves Hannibal LecterPower Bottom Will Grahamthey love each other your honorvery meta

This was such a fun read – I love the implication that hannigram fanfiction exists and it's all there for Will to accidentally discover. I adore this author and just thoroughly enjoyed how Will learned a thing or two about himself by reading smutty fics (same dude).

Golden Promises by shotgun_sinner

Word Count: 68,488 Summary: Hannibal (TV) Season/Series 01Alternate Universe - Canon DivergenceEpisode: s01e07 SorbetHallucinations?Will Hopes SoLELOplugSexuality CrisisThat Ends Up Not Being A CrisisWill Graham Has EncephalitisHannibal Gets Will TreatmentDeveloping RelationshipWill Graham's Dogs - FreeformBonding over fooddoting hannibalEventual SmutHannibal Lecter Loves Will GrahamWill Graham Loves Hannibal LecterAlana DisapprovesRimmingOral SexBottom Hannibal LecterTop Will GrahamBottom Will GrahamTop Hannibal LecterWill Graham KnowsNon-Consensual Drug UseWill Gives Him Shit For ItMurder HusbandsCannibalismis that tag even necessary?Hannibal Lecter Loves Max

This was fluffier than I typically read, but I told y'all I love this author. Pretty much no angst, and the smut, as always, was next level. Also, the idea that Hannibal would wear a solid gold butt plug to his dinner parties had me laughing before I even started reading.

What Hatches by HotMolasses (@snazzymolasses here on tumblr)

Word Count: 107,847 Summary: There is a village, nestled on the edge of an ancient forest where it is always winter. Few of the townsfolk ever venture into it, except for one lonely hunter named Will Graham. A loner who makes his living selling stag meat and spends more time with dogs than people, he finds his life changing when he comes face-to-face with a magical beast, one that he cannot get away from, and isn’t even sure he really wants to.

What started out as a curiosity about the monsterfucking tag on AO3 brought me to one of the most unique and interesting hannigram AUs I've read??? I'm as surprised as you are, if not more. I adored this fic and I loved how both Will and Hannibal were characterized and the plot and the smut (oh my god, the smut) and the ending? Phew. Go read this.

lay like a flood spills away by bleakmidwinter

Word Count: 35,733 Summary: Will starts going to a nude beach that happens to be for gay men, even though he considers himself straight.

This was highly enjoyable. I LOVE AUs that manage to keep the characters true to canon. Also nude beaches. Hannigram and nude beaches. Eating ass and public sex with some actual plot sprinkled in. Say LESS.

Now, What Should We Do Next? by HigherMagic

Word Count: 51,116 Summary: Kinktober 2018

Smut. All smut. I showed this fic to a friend who has literally never read fanfiction, let alone Hannigram, before and she is now hooked. So. Do with that what you will. And it's so clear that this author has actual, real-life experience with kink and it comes across so well! Bonus point: there is also an equally good sequel.

To Mend With Gold by beforethedawn, ConstructFairytales, Destinyawakened

Word Count: 98,863 Summary: Will and Hannibal have been living as a gay married couple for three years, but they haven't slept in the same room let alone the same bed. Will Graham has a reckoning, one way or another.

THIS WAS TENDER. Fluffy, angsty, smutty, I loved it. Molly showed up with Will's dogs and decided she wasn't going to turn them in, which was a little weird, but I really loved this fic. Just them learning how to be with each other. Also EXCELLENT marathon smut scenes. Like yesssss, of course they can each cum like three times in a row.

A Clutch at Balance by Deverauxs_Disease

Word Count: 25,466 Summary: When Will Graham storms into Hannibal's house muttering about kissing Alana Bloom, the good doctor makes Will an offer: Pretend to date Hannibal in order to prove to Alana that Will is not only stable but capable of being in a relationship. When Alana is convinced Will is the man of her dreams, Hannibal will step aside and Will can get his girl.

Y'all know I love fake dating that all of a sudden, whoops! Isn't so fake anymore! Sprinkle in some jealous and possessive Hanni and Will? I'm sold. Say less.

~

And that's a wrap on this month! See ya next time!!!

[sophieinwonderland]

A Roadmap and Why Anti-Endos Are Getting Left Behind

A recent post of mine was controversial and has been making waves. That post was the short un-nuanced version of a pro-endo future that's coming. It was phrased to sound threatening and inflammatory because it feels like that's all anti-endos will listen to anymore. But now that I've successfully gotten your attention, let's talk seriously about what's been set into motion, why it's bad for anti-endos, and why there's absolutely nothing you can do to stop it.

Positions on endogenic plurality in psychiatry

The nature of DID has been the subject of much debate within the psychiatric community for a long time. Most experts have agreed that the cause of DID is virtually always trauma. (Although many doctors are hesitant to assert this cause 100% of the time because edge cases can exist with anything.) But there's a smaller group that views it as sociogenic or iatrogenic, being caused by suggestion or doctors themselves.

I tend to agree with the majority.

But that majority group that believes DID itself is caused by trauma has also consistently acknowledged that there are, or at least could be, other forms of plurality beyond DID. This includes Dr. Colin Ross, who in the 90s speculated that there could be a non-pathological endogenous form of multiplicity. This was also echoed by Kluft, another DID expert who holds the traumagenic view of DID.

In the early 2010s, the creators of the theory of structural dissociation mentioned in a paper that mediumship and hypnosis may involve self-conscious dissociative parts of the personality.

By 2019, the World Health Organization's ICD-11's DID entry stated that you can experience multiple distinct personality states without a disorder.

Every source you can find about endogenic and non-disordered plurality either affirms it as a real thing or is at least neutral on it.

There is no hard anti-endo papers in psychiatry or psychology.

You can look through peer reviewed sources if you want for a single one that supports the idea that all plurality is traumagenic, and I promise that you won't find one.

A growing trend in research.

Like I said, in the 90s, there were a couple doctors talking about non-pathological multiplicity as something that may or may not exist. But this was largely un-studied. Later, this phenomenon got more attention, but there were no studies into non-pathological multiplicity, outside of spiritual possession, until 2016 with Varieties of Tulpa Experiences.

That was only 8 years ago.

The year after, in 2017, came a small interview study into online multiples that concluded this:

2018 saw the publication of Transgender Mental Health by The American Psychiatric Association, which asserted plurality could be non-traumagenic.

And again, 2019 saw the ICD-11 worded to say that one could experience the presence of multiple distinct personality states without a disorder.

There have been so many studies conducted in the intervening years that this post would go on forever were I to list them all.

If you want to see more, you can look at Guardians Systems' doc. Progress is happening at a rapid pace with new studies published every year.

This leads us to the next big milestone... actual fMRI research and brain scans. Because THAT'S HAPPENING.

Stanford University conducted a massive $50k study (not including the payment to researchers themselves) into tulpa systems, and the people running those studies recently did an AMA about it on Reddit.

The results are promising, showing neurological changes during possession. (Possession is a tulpamancy term for a headmate taking control over a single part of the body without fronting.)

Once this is published, it's only going to further pique interest in tulpamancy and endogenic plurality in psychology.

Are you scared yet? Because Rod Dreher is...

Rod Dreher is a transphobic conservative pundit and reactionary. I'll preface this by saying it's unclear how much of his fear is legitimate and how much is playing to a transphobic base as a way of saying "look what these liberals are doing now." Personally, I think it's probably a bit of both.

I'll be linking the archived version to avoid giving him clicks.

What conservative pundit Rod Dreher believes is that tulpamancy and plurality are going to be the next frontier of identity politics, as he makes the case for here.

He's of course NOT in support of this, but he's afraid of it.

And he's not wrong either.

In another quote from the AMA, Dr. Lifshitz mentions how much interest he gets from colleagues when he discusses tulpamancy.

The awareness of plurality and interest in it in medical spaces is rapidly spreading, and current studies do show tulpamancy improves mental health.

While it would be easy to dismiss Dreher's predictions as typical conservative fearmongering, the current trends clearly support what he's predicting.

He may be on the wrong side of the debate, but he can see the same signs and trends I do.

Plural Acceptance In Therapy

As said above, studies have shown thus far that tulpamancy is healthy, as are other forms of plurality. Plural awareness and interest is spreading quickly through academic circles.

And in one interview, Lifshitz mentions that they're interested in using research into tulpamancy to develop better DID treatment.

This will take a while to apply, and I don't know when they'll start using knowledge from tulpamancy in clinical settings, but there's a good chance that within the next decade, this research into tulpamancy may start to influence the treatment of DID systems.

How this will manifest is still unclear. Perhaps it won't go further than the advanced inner world exercises tulpamancers use to immerse themselves in inner worlds to communicate with tulpas.

But... a number of DID systems with tulpas have reported positive benefits from creating tulpas to help their systems. So maybe we'll see studies into using tulpamancy to intentionally make alters for DID systems and see how that benefits their mental health. If results are positive, this could be used in treatment.

Speaking of which, we're probably also going to see studies into having singlets create tulpas intentionally.

They're already having children make imagined companions, and have recorded these imagined companions are able to act seemingly autonomously, possessing their own thoughts and feelings.

This research cited research into tulpamancy, and suggested future studies should be carried out on adults to see if there are benefits.

I can already see the path from having adult singlets make tulpas to test for benefits of plurality, and then to testing on DID systems to see if this could be used to help strengthen communication in those systems.

And if these studies are done and the methods are proven effective and put into practice, anti-endos won't even know that the methods that are being used to treat them were derived from tulpamancy studies.

But as more anti-endos are being treated by therapists who are working to get them into healthier mindsets, it's likely you'll see a trickle down from the opinions of therapists to their patients, helping dismantle their bigotry towards endogenic systems and internalized pluralphobia.

If you're anti-endo and have seen other anti-endos complaining that their therapists seem pro-endo, know that it only gets worse from here.

Plural Acceptance and Gender

Plurality is also likely to become an increasingly big thing in topics around gender.

Just last year in 2023, we saw a study into the intersection of living as plural and transgender.

This study also marked a major milestone for plurals, being the first time ever that a system name (The Redwoods) was used as an author on an academic paper. Authors in this study worked across multiple universities, a hospital, and a gender wellness center.

This will almost definitely not be the last.

Additionally, we've lately been seeing live gender conferences with plural speakers speaking about plurality and this intersection. No longer is this community based entirely online.

Plural acceptance is going to quickly spread within the LGBT community. And anti-endos will be tolerated in those spaces less and less.

A Stranglehold on Resources

Another reason anti-endos are going to lose is because most resources are already pro-endo. Simply Plural and Pluralkit both support endogenic systems, with Simply Plural having links discussing endogenic plurality, linking young systems to the information.

There have been anti-endo attempts at breaking this stranglehold, but it always comes down to copying a more popular pro-endo thing and making it more hateful and exclusive, and it never gets close to enough traction.

Anti-endos contribute nothing to the community and are reliant on pro-endo resources, and every person they suggest Simply Plural to brings them closer to those pro-endo articles from The Plural Association.

Confidence in Being Out as Plural Means Plural Role Models

I don't know who these role models will be. Aimkid came out as a DID system and is pro-endo. Unfortunately, anti-endos have had success in bullying Aimkid off of social media.

But some studies have shown about 3% of the population is plural, only about half of which have DID, and I believe the real numbers are actually much higher.

As plural acceptance increases, it's only a matter of time before you start seeing some of your favorite celebrities come out as plural.

It's only a matter of time before plurals have their equivalent of "The Puppy Episode" where Ellen came out as lesbian on television.

I can't predict when this will happen. Things like that tend to come out of the blue. But I do believe it will happen and when it does, plurality will suddenly be pushed to the mainstream conversation.

This is Going to Quickly Become a Left-Right Issue

When plurality hits the mainstream, conservatives will fiercely oppose it. Because of the way reactions tend to work, that means liberals are going to fiercely defend it. Each side feeds into the other and results in more support in liberal spaces and more opposition in conservatives ones.

I'm not going to sugarcoat this. If you stand by bigotry in these liberal spaces, especially queer spaces, you're going to find your social circle shrinking unless you keep that bigotry to yourself. When this is part of the national conversation, you will find yourself cutoff by people you care about and spaces you previously would be accepted.

Intolerance to plural systems of any kind will no longer be tolerated. There will be no safe space for hate in those communities.

And with the overwhelming science and doctors supporting the existence of non-disordered and endogenic systems, with the support of the psych community, anti-endos will soon find themselves regarded the same way we regard anti-vaxxers and flat-Earthers in liberal spaces.

A Choice to Make

You're not doomed. This isn't hopeless. You can make a change.

System medicalism is The Titanic but you have life rafts you can hop on before it goes down.

Plenty of anti-endos have changed their ways. But if you stay on your current course, this is where it ends. You either maintain your bigotry, as you're cast out of queer communities, watching endogenic plurality infiltrate your favorite media, and with therapists who are pro-endo, all while your own hate and isolation destroy you...

Or you can choose to be better before it's too late. Because the longer you maintain your hate, the more people you hurt along the way, the more guilt you'll carry with you after you break away.

Or... I guess there's a secret third thing. A worse choice. You could join with the Rod Drehers of the world, because the Alt-Right will probably accept you gladly if you're willing to toe the party line, and turn against both fellow systems and the queer community.

I'm sure they would love systems with internalized pluralphobia who speak out against a plural future that they can hold up as examples, the same way they love homophobic gay people like Milo Yiannopoulos.

If that's what you want to be, I suppose that's an option too. 🤷‍♀️

If you do make right choice...

You can find acceptance. Your past mistakes won't be held against you.

Admitting that you're wrong and choosing to be better can be scary. But that's no excuse to continue down a path of hate.

If you do choose to make a change, we can build a plural future together. One where we won't have to hide or fear discrimination for being plural.

One where future plural children won't have to grow up feeling crazy and hating themselves and their headmates for being different, and they'll have real people to look up to who have been where they are.

My Part...

For myself, I'm going to do everything I can to push this future forward, to help bring it about. This future is an inevitability. But the more of us that spread awareness of the science and what's happening, the sooner it gets here.

But with or without my involvement... anti-endos... you're losing. Bit by bit, every single day, and you don't even realize it because you're surrounded by an echo chamber that refuses to see the reality of what's happening.

But We see it. Dr. Lifshitz sees it. Even conservative Rod Dreher sees it.

And you are so far behind in this battle that there's no way you can possibly prevent what is coming. Maybe you could have stopped it had you started paying attention half a decade ago. But you've walled yourselves off from anything that contradicted your worldview and that willful ignorance has left you playing catch-up.

Your echo chamber will tell you that you're safe to keep being who you are, to keep spreading hate and hurting innocent people because of what we are. That the future I promise won't happen. They'll tell you to ignore all the signs.

But the reality is that the world is changing and the future is plural, and you are going to have to make a choice.

I sincerely hope you will choose the right thing. But for those who don't...

Well, like I said, it's up to you. I can't stop you from choosing hate. I'm not going to try to make you into a better person either. That's up to you.

But I think you at least deserve to know what's happening and how it will end up affecting you if you don't make a change.

[astaroth1357]

We Gotta Talk About Barbatos (And Kinda Solomon But This Ain't About Him)

SPOILERS for up to Chapter 16 of NB

These recent chapters have been giving us breadcrumbs about the pasts of both Barbatos and Solomon, the two of which seem to be deeply entwined. I have yet to make a post about Solomon's past (which gets twistier and twistier by the minute btw), but right now I just want to touch on my questions about Barbatos and... well. The hell is he up to?? I have one question that has been eating away at me the longer NB goes on and I think its answer could solve everything:

Is there only one Barbatos?

What I mean by this question is something along the lines of my Timeless!Barbatos idea from a while ago. Is there only Barbatos, i.e. is Barbatos a being that exists outside of the constraints of time? Is he like the controller/arbiter of time, but not subject to things like continuity himself? When he exists in a certain timeline, is that mirrored through every other timeline (i.e. multiple Barbatos that are spread throughout multiple branches) or is there ever only ONE. Just him. And he selects which timeline to inhabit?

I have this question because there are things about the Barbatos we interact with and hints dropped by others that Barbatos is, potentially, far, far older and far more powerful than I think we can actually grasp.

Thirteen's last point is the one that really makes me wonder, because if Barbatos really has such a broad ability to transcend time and space, then it would be a bit of a nightmare if there were a billion of him running around. Any random change makes a new timeline that makes a new Barbatos with those same godlike abilities until you're completely swamped in the man. Plus, Barbatos never gives us any indication that he speaks to or witnesses his past or future selves, even when he's manipulating things from sidelines...

If there is only one Barbatos, then 1. Little Dia managed to convince, like, the singularly most powerful being in the universe to play House with him, which is such a power move. And 2. That also means any interactions we have with Barbatos in this (or any) timeline cannot be replicated elsewhere. No matter how funky our time adventures get, that Barbatos remains a constant. Thus, NB Barbatos IS OM Barbatos. Probably just hijacked by Solomon to go to past. A past he was no longer present in, because he exists in a continuous state of "present" (his presence is instantly erased from past and he doesn't appear in the future).

And for a being THAT powerful, you really have to wonder...

How much has he changed...?

In Chapter 16, we learn why Beel went berserk and destroyed the Castle. He was triggered by Lucifer explaining a banshee's scream. In OM canon, two kinds of people can hear these screams: those who will die or have a loved one who will die soon and those who have heard it before.

Beel heard a banshee scream in the human world before the War and internalized it as the warning that Lilith was going to die. Naturally, he thinks that if he had told Lucifer then he may have changed his mind but Satan drops this bombshell on us.

A baneshee's warning is supposed to predetermine time. According to Satan, Lilith was alway going to die. But we have a problem here...

Lilith just. Is not dead. Like. Canonically in both the OG title and in NB, Lilith survives the War. So... what gives??

Beel can hear a banshee scream and nobody else can. There's no question that someone was supposed to die. Which only leaves three options:

1. Lilith is dead. Even as a human, she perished.

2. Lilith was never made human... Someone lied to Lucifer and she's actually dead.

3. Barbatos fucked with time to save Lilith.

Option 1 would be pretty lackluster, all things considered. Though it would be a little darkly humorous if Lilith fought and survived in a Celestial War, then got hit by a car one year later or something.

Option 2 would be... so fucked up. But could also shed some light onto Diavolo's guilt about taking in the brothers. Like, imagine if he knew that nothing could be done for Lilith and still tricked Lucifer into eternal service anyway knowing that he could never check his bluff. That would be downright diabolical... and out of character, so I don't think that's the case. (Though, I could see Barbatos lying about it if it gave Diavolo Lucifer's loyalty in the end.)

But Option 3... I think that's actually spine-chilling. Imagine if Diavolo ordered Barbatos to find some way to twist time to save Lilith. And not just spare her life, but to somehow turn her human. That means that we're already playing the events of an altered timeline.

Now combine this idea with our Singular Barbatos theory. If there is one Barbatos, then this is the only timeline where he currently resides. If Barbatos wasn't in THIS timeline, Lilith would be dead. In every other timeline, Lilith is dead. And if OM keeps the detail about MC's lineage, then MC NEVER GETS TO EXIST. They can only be alive in THIS BRANCH OF TIME. There are no other MCs. Just the one (and the corpse that got phased out of being, but we don't talk about them). And this could explain why MC's very existence would be so important to a time-travel being like Nightbringer. There's only one MC to use.

Now, since MC is so powerful (possibly as being that is an aberration in time) it makes me wonder a whole lot more about where someone as powerful Solomon actually came from... How much meddling as Barbatos really done here? If... it was even Barbatos at all. 👀 (Speculation for another day)

[hllywdwhre]

Dreamer, Queen, Prince - Chapter 7

Pairing: Daemyra x fem!OC

Warnings: Please check masterlist for warnings. This work is 18+, MDNI

Masterlist

Notes: I’m sorry this update is so late. Life happened and shit hit the fan 🙃 also, after seeing the results of what you as the readers would rather see, I will be working on rewriting the next few chapters! As soon as chapter 8 is finished, it will be posted!

That afternoon, Viserea is surprised when she is summoned to the Small Council along with Rhaenyra.

“I would not let him fill your position, though mine own has changed,” Rhaenyra explained as they entered through the doors.

When Rhaenyra sat at the table, Viserea understood what she had meant. She was surprised she still was allowed to be cup bearer, so she held no anger at this. She hadn’t been in King’s Landing for a year, it was only fair that Rhaenyra be placed on the Small Council.

Viserea was surprised to hear of how Corlys had begun trying to make negotiations with the Sealord of Braavos for Laena’s hand though. It made sense, but it meant that House Velaryon was that much more powerful. Even if Corlys and Rhaenys supported Viserea and Rhaenyra’s future positions, this was cause for concern.

“The Sea-Snake is an over proud man to be sure, Your Grace. That pride has been injured. Perhaps we can salve the wound?” The Maester suggested, causing both Rhaenyra and Viserea’s eyebrows to raise at the implication.

“If House Velaryon were to enter into an alliance with the Free Cities, we would need our own marriage pact,” Otto said bluntly, not trying to avoid the topic the way the Maester was.

Viserea stayed beside Rhaenyra as the air became thick and Viserys tried shuffling to another subject, knowing no good would come if he tried discussing this with Rhaenyra after all of the events that had taken place between himself, Rhaenyra, Viserea, and Daemon.

Once the council meeting was over and the room had emptied, Viserea stayed in the room with Rhaenyra.

“He said I would get to choose, and yet I fear my fate has been decided. Even if he was the one we were hoping for, it feels a betrayal,” Rhaenyra said quietly, joining Viserea at the wine table.

“Allow him to come to you, try and use this to your advantage. We can try and force the Hand out. If he wants you to marry who he says instead of giving you a choice, make it worth your while. Go visit Alicent and mend your friendship, it may be needed. I will speak to the Rogue,” Viserea told her, meeting Rhaenyra’s eyes as they filled with questions.

“What are you thinking of?”

“I am not sure, but I am sure Daemon will have an idea. There might yet be an idea of how to complete our marriage without intereference,”

“If he is willing to go back on his word of my own consent in my marriage, I doubt he will listen to the Rogue,”

Viserea nodded, knowing she was right, but knowing Daemon would have more of an idea on how to handle this than she would. After checking that they truly were the only two in the room, Viserea leaned in and kissed Rhaenyra softly, feeling a great deal of tension leave both their bodies as they finally got to feel each other again. The moment could not last as long as either of them wanted though, and they pulled away.

“Please,” Rhaenyra begged, and Viserea nodded, kissed her forehead, and left the room.

Viserea found her way to her chambers, smiling when she saw Ser Ryden now at her door.

“Princess, I see your life has led you to… new adventures,” he said, his eyes motioning to her chambers where she was sure Daemon was waiting.

“New adventures are always welcome. Perhaps this isn’t a new one though, just the merging of two that have always existed,” Viserea replied.

“I hope to be by your side for them all then, Princess,” Ser Ryden said.

“You will, Ser Ryden. As will Amarda,” she promised, watching as comprehension flashed in Ser Ryden’s eyes.

Viserea stepped inside her chambers and found Daemon walking around the room, messing with the various items she had left behind.

“How was the meeting, my wife?” Daemon asked, chuckling as he saw Viserea’s face turn to one of annoyance.

“Lord Corlys is speaking of betrothing his daughter Laena to the Sealord of Braavos, an alliance that can only be matched by another proposal,” Viserea said, watching her husband’s face darken at the news.

“So he is going to go back on his promise of allowing Rhaenyra to choose?”

“I told her to use it to her advantage, to try and get Otto off of the Council, but this still raises more issues. If Viserys goes to Corlys offering the marriage, Corlys knows that he has the power in his hands even more than he already knows it. If it had been Rhaenyra choosing him, it would not be seen as the act of groveling it is,” Viserea pointed out, watching as Daemon began pacing the floor.

He remained quiet, his brows furrowed in thought.

“Then we lay claim to what is ours. We want her, and we don’t want to see the Crown groveling. Yes, Corlys’ power if the betrothal happens will be worrisome, but it would be more worrisome if he had the betrothal and the Crown groveling at his feet. We lay claim to Rhaenyra and make sure she is ours, if she will allow it,” Daemon suddenly suggested.

“And how do you plan to make that happen, my love?”

“I’ve always wanted to go with the two of you for a night in King’s Landing, show you two a side of the cities that I forbade Blood and Cheese from allowing you to visit.”

Viserea’s eyebrows furrowed as he suggested it, confused by where exactly he planned on taking them until it hit her,

“I will not be fucked like some whore in a whore house, and I will not allow her first time with a man to be carried out the same way-“

“You misunderstand me, dear wife. While I do want you two to visit the Street of Silk, I do not plan on treating you two like the common whores. I do, however, want to give you two a night to remember,” he explained.

“So… a courting before we ruin her virtue and make her only ours to marry?” Viserea asked, still not agreeing wholly with the idea.

“Something she will know is our intentions, and she will have the chance to object to. Plus, it is much easier for the three of us to sneak into her chambers from the outside than it is the inside.”

Viserea watched him for a moment, running through his plan in her mind before nodding and agreeing with it.

“And if she objects?”

“We will deal with the Crown groveling and have our marriage at a later time.”

Viserea and Daemon both stood at the top of one of the set of stairs in the passageway they both had memorized by now, their silver hair covered and wearing the clothes of the commoners. They were broken away from their conversation as they heard Rhaenyra let out a single exasperated burst of laughter.

Viserea offered Rhaenyra her hand and linked their fingers together, following Daemon down the next set of stairs to lead them outside. Blood nor Cheese accompanied them as they left the walls of the Keep and began exploring the city.

Viserea herself had only seen the city a couple times at night, finding it to be too large of a risk for many trips. Both she and Rhaenyra found themselves entertained by the many different acts across the streets.

“And now we come to the matter of the great, iron chair!” A voice bellowed, causing Rhaenyra and Viserea to exchange glances with each other.

Viserea knew Daemon wasn’t far behind them as they walked to the small stage and she soon felt Daemon standing behind the two of them. She expected the booing of the crowd when the narrator announced that,

“Our great King names his daughter, a girl, his heir!”

Her grip tightened on Rhaenyra’s hand to comfort her. Viserea knew the views of the commoners better than most, having spent many days in the streets. The majority of them truly did support Rhaenyra, but the night crowd was the loud minority.

“But then to him, a babe is born!” The narrator announced, watching as a grotesque and disrespectful depiction of Alicent giving birth to Aegon was shown.

The crowds laughter at the crude depiction of Rhaenyra had Daemon watching both she and Viserea closely, knowing neither of their tempers fared well when it come to their or their loved one’s claims.

When the man playing Aegon pulled out a rope shaped as a cock from his pants, Rhaenyra shouted out, “Lies! Slander!”, causing Viserea to jump slightly.

Viserea gave a sharp tug on her hand, trying to quiet her when Daemon spoke from behind them,

“Jest if you will, but many of the smallfolk are like to believe that, as a male, Aegon should be the heir.” His voice was low, but carried to them easily.

Rhaenyra let out a “hmph”, “Their wants are of no consequence.”

She walked away from them both, causing her and Daemon to follow while Daemon laughed lowly.

“She does not realize the powerful tool they are,” Daemon said to Viserea as they walked to catch up with her.

“She also does not realize that there are a great many on her side,” Viserea pointed out, looking up at Daemon as his hand on her back guided her through the streets.

“They’re of great consequence if you expect to rule them one day,” Daemon told Rhaenyra when they caught back up to her.

“For one night, I wish to be free of the burdens of my inheritance,” Rhaenyra said, clearly annoyed.

Without thinking, Rhaenyra reached for a tray of food, picking up a piece and taking a single bite out of it.

“Four coppers, street rat. In King’s Landing we pay for our pleasures,” he said, causing her to freeze for a moment before throwing the food at Daemon and running.

Viserea followed after Rhaenyra, hearing Daemon say something to the man and quickly catch up to her. They continued running through the streets, Viserea and Rhaenyra’s laughter eventually bouncing off the walls.

It was quickly silenced when Rhaenyra, quite literally, ran into a member of the Gold Cloaks, his threatening voice questioning her,

“And who might you be running from, now?” Ser Harwin questioned, causing relief to wash over her but quickly disappear as he saw Viserea step next to Rhaenyra.

“Ser Harwin,” Rhaenyra said, a level of fear on her face and in her voice.

“Princess?” He questioned, looking up and recognizing Viserea, “Both of you?”

“Please,” Viserea said at the same time as Rhaenyra said, “Don’t.”

He looked between the two of them and noticed Daemon’s figure approaching,

“Take care, boys. Next time, you might not be so lucky,” he warned, allowing the both of them to walk away as he exchanged a nod with Daemon.

“Enjoyed that did you?” Daemon asked, his arm coming to wrap around Viserea’s shoulder.

“Who knows when I’ll next taste freedom?” Rhaenyra said through laughter, causing both Viserea and Daemon to laugh along with her.

Viserea spotted Daemon take Rhaenyra’s hand in his and smiled, allowing him to guide them both through the streets she no longer recognized. She’d never been permitted this far into them with only Blood and Cheese to accompany her.

As the sounds in the building they were approaching grew louder, Viserea glanced to Rhaenyra from beside Daemon,

“Do you trust us?” She asked her.

“Of course,” she replied, curiosity and confusion lacing her voice.

Once they entered the building, Daemon took off his robe, having no quarrels at being spotted here. Rhaenyra and Viserea both watched as the naked women on the stage in front of them, covered in tattoos, did something Viserea could only describe as perform.

When Daemon caught their eye, Viserea and Rhaenyra followed him down another hallway in the building. The atmosphere changed from something lighthearted to something more intense. Rhaenyra and Viserea both removed their caps, silver hair on display, and gripped one of Daemon’s hands each.

They followed close behind him as they walked past rooms with people in them. Some held a woman and a man, multiple women and a man, multiple men and a woman, and only men or women. All of the people in the rooms were letting breathy moans of pleasure fill the air.

Rhaenyra had coupled with Viserea, while Viserea had coupled with both Rhaenyra and Daemon, yet neither of them were able to keep their eyes from flickering through the rooms of people chasing their own pleasure.

Daemon’s presence seemed to draw attention, some of the women stopping what they were doing to whisper his name.

“What is this place?” Rhaenyra asked as they stepped into another room that at least a dozen people were occupying.

“It’s where people come to take what they want,” Daemon replied as Rhaennnyra and Viserea watched the different groups of people.

“Fucking is a pleasure, you see, even if it’s a man and a woman,” Daemon said, drawing Rhaenyra’s attention to him. His forehead rested against hers and he used the hand that held Viserea’s to guide Viserea to stand behind Rhaenyra.

Viserea and Daemon allowed Rhaenyra to make the first move. When her lips met with Daemons, Viserea pushed her hair out of the way, beginning to kiss and nip at her neck the way she knew Rhaenyra liked.

“Marriage can be a duty, but that does not mean we have to stop doing what we want,” Daemon told her, going back to kissing her the moment the words had left his mouth, “from fucking who we want.”

As if to prove his point, Demon pulled Viserea into his kiss next and Viserea heard Rhaenyra’s quickened breath in her ear as she was pushed between them.

He backed the three of them up, pulling Viserea from behind Rhaenyra until Rhaenyra’s back was against the wall. Viserea kissed Rhaenyra this time and Viserea felt Daemon’s lips attach to her neck and guide her hands under Rhaenyra’s shirt, both of them touching the soft skin beneath it.

“Do you want this?” Daemon asked, looking to Rhaenyra as his lips left Viserea’s skin.

“Yes,” Rhaenyra said breathlessly against Viserea’s lips.

“Do you understand what this means?” Viserea asked Rhaenyra, searching Rhaenyra’s eyes.

“You plan to ruin my purity for any future suitors. To ensure that I can only be yours,” Rhaenyra confirmed.

“Come, then,” Daemon said, pulling away from them both and beginning to walk away.

Viserea and Rhaenyra shared another glance and followed behind him. He stayed a couple steps in front of them as he guided them back to the castle, taking the same path to enter the castle as they had to exit earlier that night.

“Ser Criston?” Rhaenyra asked quietly, scared of his presence possibly being on the other side of the door.

“Ser Ryden dismissed him earlier, stating that you and I wanted some privacy to catch up on the past year’s events and he would not be needed,” Viserea said at a normal volume.

It took nothing further from either of them for Rhaenyra to release her anxiety and begin kissing Viserea again. The three of their bodies become hopelessly entangled with each others’ as they all lost track of whose mouth was where on their bodies at any given time. Broken moans filtered through the room as Viserea and Rhaenyra finally reunited for the first time in a year. More followed as Daemon and Rhaenyra were finally allowed to release the pent up tension they felt for each other.

[katerina-marie]

Don't Go Slowly, Tell Me If You're Lonely (Series)

Chapter 1

Gojo Satoru x Reader & (past) Geto Suguru x Reader

Your relationship with Geto Suguru came to an end somewhere between the day of his betrayal and the day of his death. Your relationship with Gojo Satoru began somewhere in the midst of it all, even without you realizing.

WC: 6.2k

Content: Canon Divergence, Gojo x Female Reader (referred to as such but left descriptively vague), (past) Geto Suguru x Female Reader, Geto's canonical death, friends to lovers, angst, eventual happy ending, fluff later, reader is a sorcerer (left vague tho sorry), SFW (may change in later chapters idk), no use of y/n. More notes below.

Chapter Count: Chp 1, Chp 2, Chp 3, Chp 4, Chp 5, Chp 6 (Final)

Notes:

Product of an angsty Suguru Tik Tok. I have roughly five or so more chapters thought out for this, but that is subject to change as none of it is written yet. Canon events are loosely followed from Hidden Inventory and JJK0, but future events (Shibuya/Kenjaku) will not happen.

I've taken liberties with JJK canon/timeline for this fic. While not explicitly mentioned in the story, reader, Gojo, and Geto are all 20/21 with Nanami and Haibara being a year younger when the hidden inventory arc starts. There would only be 5ish years between HI and JJK0, and then another year or two between JJK0 and present day JJK where Megumi, Yuji, and Nobara are at the school (their ages stay the same and I’m sorry cause I know that wouldn’t fit with the changed timeline, but they will most likely only ever be mentioned through conversation in this story).

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

Chapter 1: Don't Go Slowly, Tell Me If You're Lonely (For the Sake of Understanding)

September 

“Suguru?” 

The dial tone was constant and unyielding, just as it was with the previous four phone calls. 

Unanswered. Ignored. Avoided. Did it happen gradually, the pulling away of a boy who sat nestled in every major part of yourself? You could recall your last conversation, only a few days prior, and it was stilted in a way they hadn’t ever been before. 

“Suguru?” 

His reply was delayed, as if the distance that separated the two of you actually affected how quickly your words reached him. There were currently hundreds, maybe thousands of miles in between each of your current locations on Earth—missions and curses…they never gave consideration to lovers or their quarrels—and for the first time, the distance felt detrimental and significant. 

“Hm, yes?” 

“I said, ‘I love you,’ and hopefully I’ll be home in three or four days. We’ll spend that evening together, yeah?” 

In the silence, all you could think was ‘he’s slipping, he’s slipping, he’s sl — ,’

“Sure, I’ll see you then.” 

Had his voice always been so tired and hollow? Had he always felt so distant and uninterested in the words coming out of your mouth? You were used to his rapt attention and soft affirmations in your conversations, always letting you know that he was focused on you. So when, in the last year, had Suguru become a shell of himself? You should have known, and your conscious would tell you that your level of intimacy (‘girlfriend’ felt like such a lackluster term for what you were to him, but your relationship hadn’t progressed further yet to earn you any other title) demanded you be aware of the moment things began to crack and crumble. All you knew was this: that there was the murder of a girl with a purpose that had been determined years prior—whose fate had changed under his watch—along with the brief but insurmountable amount of time that Suguru believed his best friend was also dead. 

Gojo Satoru. A close friend he was to you, once maybe out of obligation to your partner in the beginning, but there had been enough time to have built a friendship of your own over the years. Surely, now that you took a second to consider the situation, he would know what to do. 

“Satoru,” you mumbled, “I should call, Satoru.” 

And yet, the dial tone remained unrelenting. The A/C unit of your hotel room hummed under the bottom edge of smoke-beige curtains, and the muffled slam of a door down the hall caused you to jump from your seat on the edge of the bed. The phone remained tightly clasped in your hand and it pushed just hard enough against your ear that pain began to erupt from where the post of an earring dug into your skin. 

“Suguru?”

——————————————

Your phone rang an hour after leaving the hotel room to begin your journey home. It was in the middle of a foreign airport, your clothes were sticking to your skin after the rushed shuffling through security, and Shoko had just told you that Geto Suguru was currently wanted for the murder of 112 people and his subsequent defection from jujutsu society. 

“Is he…does anyone know where he is?” The question slipped out quietly as you dropped into a black leather seat and dragged your suitcase in front of you so you could lean your elbows on it. You took a quick glance up at a screen and tried to decide if “Gate 7” was truly flashing in the top right corner or if it were the building tears in your eyes that were starting to blur the number into a different shape entirely. 

“No, he hasn’t been located, and he’s not responding to our phone calls either. Not even Gojo’s. Have you—,” 

“No.” You let out a wet laugh and the man in the seat next to you cast a long sideways look in your direction before getting up and moving a couple seats away. Did you look so distraught that the idea of possibly spending hours on a plane next to you was so unappealing? Another stare from a woman in the seat across from you and the tear-drop shaped spots appearing on your pants convinced you that you were better off not knowing. 

“I’m so sorry,” Shoko began, and for the first time, her voice brought none of the comfort and healing it usually did. “We debated telling you and waiting until you touched down back home, but Gojo figured you’d…”

Shoko trailed off without any other indication of what considerations for your feelings were taken into account during their discussion, and all that you could respond with was a shake of your head and a hushed “no, no.” You couldn’t decide if you were grateful to know immediately of what had transpired instead of being surprised with the news upon arrival home, or if you were appalled at their thought that sitting trapped in a plane with hours to despair at the unbelievability of it all was the better suited alternative.

A flurry of sudden motion and shuffling around you jolted you back into awareness, and you realized with a sudden panic that your plane was beginning to board. Your only connection to what was going on was about to be severed. You stood with the others and began the slow march to line up at the terminal. 

“Shoko, I’m about to board my plane but please—,” A sob cut you off, and you knew that you were further from finishing that sentence than you were from the one person you yearned to be beside at that moment. A heavy ache settled in your stomach at the thought. Suddenly, there was a realization that some great reconciliation was to be made in regard to who Suguru was to you before this point and what he would be now and going forth. In no possible scenario did you see yourself emerging totally unscathed. 

Shoko was silent for a moment before offering some reassurance you didn’t really hear and then muttered a quick goodbye. Between that minute and the next, you had boarded the plane, stowed away your suitcase, found a seat next to the window, and picked a spot in the sky to stare at lest the environment around you remind you of how trapped you were. 

“Suguru?”

——————————————

“Suguru!” 

Screaming your boyfriend’s name from across a crowded street wasn’t what you had envisioned when you thought of your return home, even after the news had broken. But time hadn’t let you attempt to catch up before it decided that the person you treasured most in the world was to continue unraveling on a schedule you had no hope of following.

You had barely taken your first steps out of the airport onto paved sidewalks when your phone rang again. The ringtone could only play its first few chimes before you had it up to your ear with a breathless reply already on its way out. 

“I found him.” 

Shoko sounded neither relieved nor any more worried than she had when the two of you had spoken hours earlier, but you didn’t have a chance to question her further before she set your whole being on edge. 

“Suguru confirmed the reports, and I’ve called Satoru already.” 

For a split second, dread filled your limbs and you stumbled in your step that took you from a standstill to a sprint. Why did the thought of Satoru confronting your boyfriend offer anything other than utter relief? 

“Where are you? Shoko, please tell me where you are, and I’ll be right there!” 

‘Right there’ had you struggling against the hold Shoko had on your shoulders as you watched from a distance as Suguru and Satoru stood opposite each other. People weaved in and around the two, unaware of the danger, the devastation, of the complete dismantling that was occurring just beside them. 

“Suguru! Suguru, Suguru, Suguru!” Your screaming seemed to have no effect on him, and you would have lied and told yourself that he just couldn’t hear you, but the disdainful stares of the oblivious people all around kept you from denial. 

Suguru remained placid as he stood and took the brunt of both yours and Satoru's desperate calls to bring him back. He looked so much like the boy you had fallen in love with, but then again not at all the same. His hair was different. Half of it laid unbound against his neck, though the piece that framed the left side of his face still hid the corner of his eye. You stared at him, and you weren’t sure if you were trying to commit every inch of him to your memory or simply beseeching him to spare just a glance in your direction. Had his cheeks always been so gaunt? Did the delicate skin under his eyes always bruise purple like they were now? What else had been missed in the last year that could be counted and added to this moment? 

Before you could damn yourself further for missing the signs of Suguru’s slow deterioration, the raising of Satoru’s arm had your whole existence narrowing until it was just the two of them in frame. The sound of your heartbeat thudding in your ears faded. The warm feeling of panic that had started in your chest, radiated down your arms, and made your fingers feel numb blended in with the shuddering of Shoko’s chest against your back. All the background noise—the clack of dress shoes on concrete, the whir of car engines flying by that also shuttered the view in front of you, to the incessant wailing of your boyfriend’s name—suddenly ceased as two of Gojo Satoru’s fingers began to close in on one another. 

“Satoru!” 

One day, Gojo Satoru would be brave enough to remember what it felt like to hear you lament his name. He could recall fondly and effortlessly how his name and the one of his best friend could slip so seamlessly, interchangeably, from your lips. But now, when he swore you were moving your mouth though nothing else but his name came out, it would haunt him in his dreams, his memories, and everything in between. 

“Satoru!” Urging, demanding, and shrill. 

Do it, do it, do it. 

“Satoru!” Pleading, shrieking, and broken. 

Please, don’t do it. Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it.  

Satoru’s fingers remained a hairsbreadth apart, and Suguru’s back turned as he walked away with nothing more than an unaffected wave over his shoulder. Shoko still trembled, Satoru’s face crumpled, and your heart and mind had broken into pieces that scattered far beyond your reach.

All the while, there would be a day upcoming when all of this would have to be condensed into something that was capable of being understood.

Today was not that day. 

——————————————

December 24, Years Later

Did your footsteps have to echo what your heart was chanting? 

Suguru, Suguru, Suguru. 

Your walk to the communal lounge of the Jujutsu High-Tokyo campus was different, in some ways, from usual. Familiar stone scraped at the bottom of your shoes. Acrid smoke still hung in the air, and pieces of wood and rock falling to the ground could be heard echoing from where buildings and walls were left in ruin. The fading orange of a winter sunset was dipping below the remaining trees, leaving behind a night that was dark and dreadful and devastated. 

Suguru, Suguru, Suguru. 

And then you were here, at the door you had to open and walk through before any number of questions you had could be answered. With a deep inhale, you took your first step forward to pass over the threshold and the room that was full of people, though couldn’t be considered noisy, went silent. 

Principal Yaga stood in a corner to the right with a cell phone at his ear. Nanami sat at a table with his spotted tie loosened around his neck and his suit jacket thrown over the back of his chair in an uncommon show of haggard exhaustion. Behind him, Shoko was washing her hands in a sink where the water swirled with something pink. You jerked your head to the left to avoid having to process the sight further, but what you looked upon instead didn’t spare you any relief. 

The underclassmen, Maki, Panda, and Inumaki, hovered around a loveseat where Okkotsu sat slumped with his head in his hands. All four of them were covered in varying degrees of debris, bandages, and scant traces of blood. It made you feel a little better to think that’s all Shoko had been washing off in the sink. 

What didn’t help ease the knots in your stomach was the way Okkotsu never raised his head to acknowledge the entrance of your presence—a contradiction to his normal deferential behavior—but also how the rest of the eyes in the room all looked at you with varying degrees of emotion. None were malicious, but unnerving nonetheless. 

Pity, unsureness, sorrow, regret, and condolence—,

Your sharp inhale was enough to make a person or two flinch, but no one else moved and you were left to contemplate whether fleeing to solitary misery would hurt less than receiving answers about what had happened tonight.

Before you could decide what to do, the door to the back of the lounge slid open and Satoru stepped inside. His bandages around his eyes were off, and he was looking at you in a way he never had until now. How you were supposed to interpret that look and what it could even mean…well, you didn’t have the slightest clue, and that would be the final blow to your being. 

You had already lurched back to reach for the door when Satoru called your name, and you were slow to turn around to face him. When you did, he used his head to nod to the garden through the door of the lounge in a bid to get you to follow him before exiting the room the same way he came. You took a deep breath and gave a helpless search around the room before following after him into the night. Someone had the grace to close the door behind you. 

The two of you walked a few steps into the garden, and while it did nothing to ease the turmoil you were feeling, the vastness of the night sky and coolness of the air was preferable to the atmosphere in the lounge you were just in. When you and Satoru finally came to a halt, you weren’t close enough to touch, but if you tried, your fingertips would just miss the fabric of his uniform. You waited for him to speak, swallowing once, twice, a third time to try and clear the tension out of your throat. Your hands began to tremble, and a stinging burn rushed up through your nose to prick at the corners of your eyes. 

With only a whisper of clothing as a warning, Satoru’s hand reached out to cup the back of your neck and draw you into his shoulder, his arms capable of closing the distance between you without requiring him to step nearer. His other hand settled between your shoulder blades while yours loosely gripped the fabric at his ribcage. The embrace only lasted another second before he was pulling away with a gentle squeeze around your arms and letting his own drop to his sides. 

“You’re aware of what led up to all this tonight, correct?” Satoru asked, gesturing vaguely to the campus surrounding you both. There was no preamble from him and you watched as his eyes flicked between yours.

“Yes,” you nodded, “I was there in the city with everyone, Satoru. I saw you leave, and once everything finished I stayed after to check on everyone from Kyoto before coming back here.” You let your eyes wander around over Satoru’s shoulder, and you could just faintly make out a persisting plume of smoke in the distance. 

“He was here,” you continued, no more asking him a question than you were stating what you already knew, “and this was him?” Even though it was meek, your voice didn’t crack. 

Satoru hummed out an affirmation, not needing to clarify what you said in order for him to know that you were referring to the damaged state of the school as a result of Suguru’s presence.

“Alright,” you started, firm and as prepared as you could make yourself in this moment, “where is he?” 

Satoru carried on without acknowledging the question you asked. “Some of the damage is from him fighting Maki, Panda, and Inumaki, but most of it is from his fight with Okkostu and Rika after the others became too injured. I arrived just at the end.” 

It was here that you started to feel like you were listening to his words from somewhere outside your body. There was an outcome that you were waiting to learn of, and you knew you either needed to ask a question or make some kind of noise or movement to prompt him to go forward. But really, your head felt like it was full of static and you couldn’t begin to piece the words together to make them sound even remotely coherent. 

The end, the end, the end, the e–,

“The end?” You asked on an exhale, stunned when you saw Satoru’s chin quiver just once. You realized then that you hadn’t ever really taken the time to study the world’s strongest sorcerer. Did the blue of his eyes always reflect even the dimmest of light, or was there something else that caused them to swim as they did now? He stood rigid, but then again Satoru always held himself up to his full height, unbothered by the weight that sat on his shoulders and unencumbered by the threat of a physical blow. Maybe now that you could notice, as you saw how his head hung slightly and weariness lowered his stature, it was apparent that the time Satoru spent constantly guarding his person never allowed for the same courtesy to his mind. You wondered if the vulnerability of it, of how he sacrificed himself to the heavy weight of emotional torment, was what eventually managed to dim the spirit of the person in front of you right now. 

“Suguru’s dead. ” 

One day, you’d look back and wonder if you already knew what was going to come out of Satoru’s mouth. The news had the ground beneath your feet tilting in different directions in a way that threatened the contents of your stomach, and it did expel the air from your lungs in a pained-sounding moan. But it didn’t send the electrical current of shock through your body that you were waiting for. You’d suspect that you were aware of it from the moment you set foot on campus, that the tension in the air and the stiffness of everyone in the lounge had been direct indicators that the worst had occurred. Perhaps you knew, but needed Satoru to deliver that blow in order for it to land. 

You struggled to find a way to think past the roaring in your ears, so you tangled your fingers together in order to dig your nails into the skin on the backs of your hands. When the pain didn’t register and the blood welling up underneath them didn’t scare you into looking away, you fixed your gaze up on Satoru’s eyes in a desperate attempt to pull yourself out from inside yourself. They were wide in concerned alarm from whatever he saw on your face.

“God, so…,” you heaved a breath and closed your eyes to try and focus on getting your thoughts into something more than garbled syllables, “so that’s why Okkotsu looks the way he does…in there? He, uhm, he ki—,” 

“No.” Satoru pulled his bottom lip under his teeth and rolled his head back to look up at the sky before returning back to you. Did he feel the same trepidation that snaked under your skin and knocked at your chest? Did your eyes reflect back to him the pleading that was going on in your head? To who, though? Certainly, the time for bargaining was long past. “No, Okkotsu didn’t kill Suguru. He wounded him…badly. But Suguru was able to retreat in the haze of the smoke and I…he…”

He what? Suguru? Okkotsu? If allowed, the endless possibilities of “what if” would steal whatever peace remained from you, and if closure wasn’t something granted to you, you would respond in kind. 

 “What, Satoru? He what? You have to be clearer. You have to tell me, for the sake of my own understanding.” 

The sliding of the lounge door caught your attention and interrupted whatever Satoru was going to say next. You glanced over, watching as Nanami stepped out from around the door, shut it, and leaned back against it with his arms crossed over his chest. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Satoru giving him the faintest nod and you wondered if he had asked him to come out here. The reason wasn’t quite clear to you yet, but you stared at him, trying to figure out what part the blonde-haired sorcerer was about to play in all of this. 

Ever present Nanami, stoic as he was strong, but soft spoken and never cruel for cruelty’s sake. Always maintained rigid self control and composure, even in the face of his best friend’s death. He was steady and stable, easily beat against but never yielded, made to never move under such intense pressure. 

The thought had you turning back to Satoru, perplexed about what Nanami’s presence might be implying. What was about to come out of Gojo Satoru’s mouth that made him think he wouldn’t be enough for you? Or—in an even worse consideration—that he was about to become too much for you. 

“I found Suguru after his fight with Okkotsu in some obscure corner of campus,” Satoru whispered, and you dared not move or breathe as you waited for his next words. “I found him…and I killed him.” 

You had to hold a hand up to your chest, right between your breasts and over your heart as it began to rise and fall with the rapidness of your breaths, if only to ensure that it kept beating as every second ticked past the next. You felt your mouth drop open, felt your throat vibrate with some wounded noise, and watched as Satoru held out his hand to you, immense regret tightening his features, along with glistening tears clinging to the tips of his eyelashes. What hurt more though was the memory of Satoru’s arm reaching out like it did now, some years ago on the day Suguru left, his fingers trembling as they inched towards each other in his best friend's direction. You wondered—painfully, regrettably—if that’s what Suguru saw too right before it all went dark, and the sight of it was enough to send you staggering backwards. Someone caught you with large hands curling around the tops of your shoulders and—,

Oh, that’s what Nanami was for. 

Taking advantage of your friend behind you, you wilted backwards against Nanami’s chest and sobbed, neither of you unnerved by the ugly gasping of it. The hand that wasn’t still clutched against your body in the hopes of keeping yourself sealed shut shot up to grasp at Nanami’s forearm in an effort to abate the buckling of your knees. Because in front of you, the honored one stood a few feet away from you with eyes made empty and full of loss, and you struggled to reconcile which one of you were owed more the space to fall apart. Perhaps it was you both, as grief in situations like this happened to be a great equalizer, and you considered, as your friend stared at you with pained hopelessness, that maybe—certainly—Satoru was entitled to his own moment of sorrow in front of you. The thought lent sturdiness to your stance and you pushed forward off Nanami and used the momentum to propel yourself into Satoru. You worried briefly that maybe the two of you wouldn’t make contact, that he wouldn’t allow you into the space of him, but your arms landed around his neck, your chest met his, and his hands pushed you past any remaining distance. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice shaking and hands hovering infinitesimally over your hips before they settled against you. All you could do was shake your head against his shoulder. There was no question about how equally wounded Satoru was. Where you now mourned the forever plans that once existed in the bright eyes and easy laugh of a man since gone, Satoru had the honor of shouldering the burden of knowing he was the one who snuffed those plans out, though the fault could be no more placed on him than it could you. Did he wonder as he waited for you, whether you would blame him for the duty in which he owed the world protection from people like Suguru? Where he would always be the one to know what it was like to take away the life of his best friend, did he worry about how you would look at him once you knew? Did you confirm his fear when you fell away from him? For a time, did Satoru bemoan the physical loss of Suguru and wonder if he would have to do the same for you when you couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes anymore? Satoru might have been the one who made you something akin to a widow, but Suguru’s choices and decisions were what put the two of you here, who really held responsibility for the damage inflicted on the two people he had valued most. 

You squeezed Satoru a little tighter and then tilted back some so you could peer into his face. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you said, shaking your head at him when he opened his mouth to protest, “at least not to me.” A weak smile pulled at your lips as you did your best to reassure him and the spasming of his grip at your waist. You didn’t have the energy to explain to him the depths of emotion that swirled around in your head. How you didn’t blame him, but regretted the situation Suguru thrust the two of you in. How you would never leave him to carry this alone, but that you would need time before looking at him didn’t make your heart throb with painful memory and imagination. Or how the two of you would be forever connected by the loss of someone so important to each of you in vastly different ways, but that you wanted nothing more than to flee from his presence now. 

So you moved away from him, trailing a hand down his arm because you could and because you didn’t know what else to do for him. You kept stepping back, already turning to retreat back the way you came and ready to seek solace in the privacy of your room. To do what, you weren’t sure. To cry, you guessed. To distract yourself enough that you didn’t replay every single second of the last few years over and over in your head so you could pick every word and touch between you and Suguru apart. Whether that was for the sake of your own memory or to try and figure out that which couldn’t be solved was unbeknownst to you. In the depths of your grief, maybe you would wonder what the last moments were like for Suguru. Did he think of you? Consider what he had done to you and to Satoru? What were the last words to come out his mouth? Were they for you or for—,

You whirled around from your spot halfway back to the lounge door and caught sight of Nanami placing a heavy hand on Satoru’s shoulder. 

“Did Suguru say anything to you?” Your voice carried out clearly on the emptiness of the night, but Satoru didn’t turn in your direction, nor did he hardly move. “Did he…did he have anything for you to tell me?” 

Satoru was still until he eventually twisted his head towards you just enough so he could look at you from the corner of his eye. They were guarded, maybe the slightest bit afraid, and you held your breath in anticipation. 

“No.” 

You deflated and were unsure how to feel about his answer. You had hoped, thought, that maybe having Suguru’s last words for you would bring about some relief for the burning heartache that had started at some point in the last hour—the last couple of years—but you had also been hesitant to receive one more thing to occupy the scant emotional bandwidth you had left for everything that Suguru was. It would be one more thing to keep you up at night. On the other hand, the fact that your lover had left the world with nought an expressed thought or word for your condition left a blistering bitterness to swell within you. Insignificant were you not, but maybe to Suguru, in his last moments on Earth, you were to him. And that thought was enough to tip you into the realm of excess, surefly filled and overflowing with enough contemplating and pondering and general overthinking to last the rest of your life. 

So you turned away from Satoru and Nanami and walked back through an empty lounge and out the door from which you came earlier in the evening. The night was still dark and devastated but relatively silent, the noise of utter ruin having mostly ceased. But your shoes still scuffed against stone and tiny pebbles skittered away from under feet, skipping and tumbling with every step you took. 

Suguru, Suguru, Suguru.  

——————————————

“You were lying.” 

Nanami’s tone was no more judgemental than it was inquisitive, but nothing about him seemed to press Satoru for answers that he wasn’t yet ready to give—or understood himself. He did lie. He wouldn’t deny that. But under no circumstances was he prepared to tell you what his best friend, your other half, had told him in the minutes before his death. They replayed tortuously in his head as he tried to make sense of it all. Satoru would have to speak them to you one day, and the fear of doing so brought the same panicked apprehension he had felt as he watched you try and hold yourself together as he had told you about Suguru’s death. As he waited for you, he had imagined every which way your face could have pinched and drawn up in enraged despair as you threw yourself against him to beat as his chest, to wail in his arms as you cursed his existence before finally retreating in a similar fashion as how you did just moments ago, but perhaps with less acceptance and  a goodbye that would prove final in its anger. You hadn’t reacted that way, of course. You had fallen against him in sorrow and with a barely concealed need for comfort as much as you were ready to give it to him, and he had been filled with desperate relief at the feeling of you and how you hadn’t shied away from him. But maybe that was to come later one day, after Satoru spent time considering what was said and implied by Suguru’s words, and felt brave enough to share them with you. Surely then you wouldn’t have the same patience for him as you did tonight. 

“I was.” That was all he said back to Nanami, refusing to elaborate on the specifics of something he owed to you and couldn’t yet come to terms with himself. Thankfully, Nanami simply nodded and glanced in the direction of your departure. 

“I’ll check on her in the morning,” he offered, betraying no emotion or thought to the idea, but Satoru had a feeling it had something to do with how you had done the same for Nanami when, a few years ago, death had come for Jujutsu High and taken Haibara with it. Neither man said anything else as they departed, Nanami heading your direction towards staff lodging and Satoru leaving to walk aimlessly along crumbling corridors. His head spun, and he remembered. 

Satoru had heard Suguru before he came upon him, dragging his shoulder against stone walls and mumbling nonsense to himself until it came to an abrupt halt as he spotted Satoru a ways in front of him. It was painful to take in the sight of his best friend, covered in blood and viciously mangled, but looking so achingly familiar. But the ensuing conversation, a mindless back and forth of words that meant much and nothing at all proved that the person in front of him wasn’t the same as he remembered. 

“Tell me, do you have any last words?” Satoru had asked, a simple opportunity given to the man sitting in front of him, yet he cursed the universe for his lot in life, the unfairness of it all bittering the taste of his mouth and landing heavy in his chest as Suguru spoke back to him. 

“She's yours now, it would seem.” 

Satoru couldn’t ever say he had been rendered speechless before, but he choked on his own spit as he recoiled from Suguru’s words. He grit his teeth as he felt his face scrunch in anguished rage. 

“God, Suguru! You can’t just—that’s not something you—!” What came out in a fit of bewilderment was followed by more jumbled sputtering before Satoru could mind his tongue again. “You don’t just say that! You can’t pass ownership of her like an object. Not like this, not ever!” 

Suguru just chuckled, out of breath and clearly fading, and leaned his head back against the wall. “Doesn’t make it any less true.” 

“It does!” Satoru shouted, panic and desperation lacing his tone,“She doesn’t want me! She would want you to come back, to make amends and live your entire life trying to repair what you broke. You don’t get to decide our future for us!” 

“Consider it a dying wish,” Suguru said calmly, and Satoru wondered if anything else someone could ever say would hurt as badly as that (a picture of you flashed unbidden in his mind). 

“She would rather have you—I would rather have you!”

“You haven’t exactly said ‘no’, Satoru.”

His words pinned him in place and Satoru was stunned into silence. His friend’s dying delusions were no better for his psyche than considering what Suguru implied would mean for him. Satoru had never let himself think so far, to entertain a thought about his best friend’s girlfriend in any other way except strictly platonic. Sure, no one could ignore your beauty, and a couple times Satoru had silently envied what Suguru had and he did not—intimate companionship, physical comfort and pleasure, and the eagerness for a future with someone, all that could be had with a friend but on levels not belonging to such a term. However longed for, it was never with you strictly imagined, just a simple yearning for something of his own. 

“No,” Satoru managed, “not like this. Not without her consent, and certainly not in place of you being alive.”

Suguru made a motion similar to a shrug, or what one would look like if half of his shoulder wasn’t missing. “If you insist.”

“Do you not have anything to say to her? To leave her with?” Satoru beseeched on your behalf, hoping Suguru would tell him anything else to pass on to you other than his attempt to give you to him. Satoru would get his last words with Suguru, and it was all the same too much and not enough. He wondered if you would feel the same.

“What’s there to say?” Suguru said, his voice light, as if the discussion was more about the weather or something else equally mundane. “‘I’m sorry’ seems pointless without action behind it, and there will be none. ‘I love you’ is nothing she hasn’t heard before, and I would call into question the truthfulness of those words in light of my actions if I were her.” It was then that Satoru finally spotted a hint of regret and sorrow on Suguru’s face, but it disappeared only a moment later. “She would not want me as I am now, and there is no going back. The damage resulting from my choices is something the two of you will wrestle with, both individually and together, I suppose. Hence, why I said what I did.” 

Satoru would laugh at the absurdity of it all if it didn’t pain him so badly. Instead, he walked towards Suguru and dropped into a crouch to get eye-level with his friend. His head lolled toward him.

“Damn you for that, Suguru,” he said, “but you’ll always be my best friend.”

Shock fluttered over Suguru’s face before amusement wrinkled his eyes and a tired laugh shook his body. His eyes slid shut and as Satoru stood and willed his arm to move, he desperately wished he could be anywhere else. 

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

I hope I didn't ramble too much and that this made sense! The next chapters shouldn't be as thought/monologue heavy. I can't promise an update timeline, but I will do my best to not take too long. I am writing in the breaks between chasing my toddler around, so patience is appreciated:)

Cross-posted on ao3 as well.

Thanks!

[pikahlua]

“Dai's quirk was not a factor in Izuku telling him he could be a hero in a first place. It was that he instinctively reached out to help others.”

Then why was it that Izuku decided to take a step back from his own dream? I understand why he thought he’d be better off as a teacher, and I get why he wouldn’t want to try support items on his own. But then I don’t understand why he so quickly changes his mind when offered the suit? I don’t know. If all this time, he didn’t want to try to be a hero, why now?

Have you considered that there are alternate takes on the situation out there? Because my inbox is fucking full of em, even just in terms of how they set up their questions.

That's not to pick on you at all, anon. You seem earnest in your questions. It's just funny to me how everyone is reading the situation when there are so many layers to consider!

We don't know anything about the time missed in the time skip. Izuku MAY HAVE pursued pro hero work and flopped. He may not have been able to find a job at all.

Izuku tells us he's reframed his concept of how to be a hero anyways (just as society has). He doesn't see himself as "giving up on his dream;" he's expanded his dream.

This order of events does create a full-circle moment where we're back to chapter 1 and Izuku is considering a "more realistic" future, but again we're locked in a certain moment in the timeline. We don't know what his opinion about any of this was in the interim. His opinion could have gone through changes over the years.

You say he "changed his mind" with the suit, but there's nothing that says Izuku stopped being a teacher when he accepted the suit. We just know he's probably picked up pro hero work again. Aizawa did pro hero work on top of teaching. As did...

ALL MIGHT. I don't know WHY I don't see people bringing this up, but uh, IZUKU IS FOLLOWING IN ALL MIGHT'S FOOTSTEPS with this whole teacher thing. There's more to it than just "Maybe Izuku gave up on being a pro hero." He's going through the same development All Might did!

Heck, we all know Izuku is a little slow on the uptake when it comes to creativity. He's analytical, but it takes a while for some obvious things to click. See: "Oh that's right, I have legs!" The Arc. It's totally in character to imagine that Izuku tried some avenues that failed and he took what HE thought was the creative route--teaching--for a while until All Might comes along to let him know "By the way we have this tech now." In fact, emphasis on the "now," because All Might does make it clear this tech had to be developed and that he had been using a prototype against All For One. All Might has spent these 8 years DEVELOPING the tech (probably as a test subject) FOR Izuku to use someday! Izuku always was gonna have to wait a bit on a suit if he wanted to use tech like that.

[bakuhatsufallinlove]

I love your translation posts, they give great context to some moments! I’ve seen chapter 348 translated with Toga’s confession as almost being narrated by Bakugou but I’ve also seen it translated as a more generic voice. Is there a correct version?

This is a complicated question, so let me put it this way: while there is less uncertainty in Japanese about who is narrating 348, that doesn't mean there is no uncertainty. In general, I think English audiences are responding with much more scrutiny to something that is not particularly notable in Japanese manga.

We don't have a lot of information about the narrator that refers to Izuku in the third-person. "Midoriya Izuku" is not how Izuku narrated the story when his internal voice was dominant, he always used first-person pronouns to tell "the story of how I became the greatest hero."

In the series, there are inner monologues that convey what the characters are thinking in the moment, and then there is "framing narration." Framing narration positions the story in the past tense, implying a future person is relaying this event with more knowledge about its conclusion than the audience has.

Inner monologues have distinct clarity both in visual cues (who is on-screen) and how they speak.

Ochako's inner monologue during 321 is indisputably Ochako; the opening words are placed over her image, and the Japanese audience is already familiar with the fact that Ochako calls Izuku "Deku-kun" and uses the personal pronoun watashi (私), so when she says "we," it's watashitachi (私たち), pluralizing her own pronoun. If this were Shouto's monologue, we would have had Midoriya and orera (俺ら) or oretachi (俺たち) instead. The audience would have understood the distinction, although the visual cue centering Ochako would feel a little odd, like Shouto is looking to her while thinking this.

Framing narration, of course, has little-to-no visual cuing, so we have to rely on speech patterns, and thus end up with subjective interpretation and predictions.

348's framing narrator uses kare (彼) to refer to Izuku as he. This is not a pronoun we have ever seen Katsuki use for him. Katsuki exclusively refers to Izuku in the third-person with aitsu or soitsu (あいつ or そいつ), both of which mean "that guy" in a rude way consistent with his typical speech pattern.

There is the possibility that the audience is supposed to be surprised by the use of "shitty nerd" following the pronoun kare, because the two contradict each other, and "shitty nerd" is put at the end of the sentence like a zinger. This might imply that, sometime in the future, Katsuki starts using kare for Izuku, and that really would be a shocking change, because it is extremely polite and non-confrontational compared to how he normally talks. I don't think that is what is going on, though, for the following reasons:

In manga, framing devices are not always explained or particularly thought of as noteworthy. Some series use a framing device at the beginning, and then completely abandon it by the end. Some series have very inconsistent framing devices, sometimes due to the intense workload of weekly chapter output and sometimes because the author just wants it that way, and they use the inconsistency as a way to be poetic, develop story themes, or conveniently convey information.

English language media, especially in recent years, has much more strict rules and expectations about framing devices. I don't think Japanese audiences are as concerned about who this narrator is because the expectations are different.

That said, from both a writing standpoint and the experience of the audience, Katsuki's words being brought up in the middle of a love confession is not meaningless. The literal identity of the narrator may not be that important in the end, but what the narrator conveys is absolutely still important.

There are a lot of ways you can interpret Katsuki's words being brought up here, but it is undeniably intentional. If he wanted the "nerd" meaning without connecting it to Katsuki, Horikoshi could have just called Izuku an otaku, since that term carries an implication of "indifferent or ignorant to human relationships" in Japan. If this were just about how oblivious Izuku is, he could have said that Izuku 空気を読めない (kuuki wo yomenai, can't read the room).

But he chose the words Katsuki alone uses for Izuku--words that were historically derogatory but, as their relationship has improved, could almost be read as friendly or affectionate.

I personally feel like it is foreshadowing, but we'll have to see how it shakes out!

[1moreff-creator]

FF, considering that the end of Chapter 2 seems to be setting up the already prevalent theme of Fate and Choice to take centre stage in Chapter 3 (like how the theme of Trust was the focus of CH1, and the theme of Change was the focus of CH2), I wonder Do you have any predictions for Chapter 3? Where you think most of the characters will go from here, who you think might be the next to kick the bucket, and how you think it will tie into Teruko's own story (the next step of which, I predict, will be her making a decision on whether she's going to allow herself to make friendships with the rest of the cast even with the fear that they will abandon or die on her always in the back of her mind, or to let her fears control her and make her isolate herself further out of fear that she will result in them getting hurt because of her fated bad luck. But I'd also love to hear your thoughts on that :D)

Hey! Predictions, huh? Well, I'm not the best when it comes to guesswork, so this isn't going to be, like, my deepest post or anything, but it's still interesting to think about!

Spoilers for DRDT CH2

So now that we've made it past Read More: Yeah I have no idea.

You see, there's literally infinite ways for the story to progress past this point, and there comes a point where "what I think will happen" would be completely indistinguishable from "how I would write the rest of the story." And while that in itself is interesting to explore, I'm not the dev, so I'll save both your and my time by avoiding any completely unfounded predictions. That means that the fate of most characters, the arcs they will go through, the themes which will be explored, among many other things, are things that I have almost no genuine strong predictions, at least in regards to CH4 and beyond.

In terms of CH3, though, I do agree that the theme of fate is the most likely to be the centerpiece, though like with CH2 and CH1 there will probably be a whole lot of themes that get explored. Not to mention that what someone considers the "main theme" of a chapter is highly subjective; I'd argue the themes of belief ("all that glitters is not gold") and morality ("a good person") are just as important to CH2 as the theme of change. I can't tell which themes will actually be explored, though, because again, no idea where the story could go.

To give some ideas, though, some themes that are already on the table apart from fate and trust and change are memory (Elliot, Rose's photographic memory, Whit forgetting her mom is dead for a moment when Rose says it, etc), family (Elliot again, Rose's family, J's mom, Levi's situation, the hypothetical Diana Chiem, Teruko's brother, Whit's mom again, why does half this cast has family issues, etc), idolization (David->Xander, Hu->Nico, Whit->His mom ("We tend to idolize the dead" in his quote), everyone->Mai (once we actually start talking about her), etc), past and future (Xander & Min (check pinned comments in Bonus Episodes), Hu and Veronika moving on from their past, Charles forgetting his, Rose feeling hopeless in the future due to mistakes in her past, Levi not caring about his past, Arturo not being able to fully move on from his past, etc), and everything else under the Sun. You see why making predictions is hard? There's too much shit going on, the writing's just too good.

What I can theorize on a bit more comfortably is who's gonna die in CH3.

It's Charles.

Honestly I don't even feel comfortable predicting a double murder in CH3; other than "it's a trope," there's no reason for me to believe it atm. And "it's a trope" isn't evidence.

With Charles, though, we do have "Charles pronounced dead at 3" from the prologue, and given Whit's track record, yeah it's curtains for chemist boy. I know some people think Charles dying is "too obvious" because of this line, but it only feels obvious to freaks like me who spend way too much time looking at these guys and who've rewatched the series several times. In particular, I believe he'll be poisoned by strychnine, given it was omitted from the custom weapons list, meaning only him and Teruko know about it, which could lead to interesting developments in the trial. This also means that the Elliot mystery would be explored in more depth in CH3, which could also be inferred from Yoidore Shirazu... existing already.

Other things which will likely get brought up are Whit's secret, Teruko's secret (then again, I have zero fucking clue what David's gonna do next), Hu's treatment of Nico, Hu and Vero's secrets, Veronika's reactions to Levi almost dying and Ace's execution, the Nico-Rose situation, Arturo (just, like, in general), etc. I feel like J's family and Eden's guilty feelings about Arei and Min might still have to wait, though it could come up. Look these chapters are long we could genuinely cover all of that and still bring up new threads for CH4 to explore.

As for future killer predictions... again, zero clue. But, you know that theory/observation that's been going around about the objects that show up at the end of CH1 and CH2 and Mai? That Mai has a jacket kinda sorta like Min and gloves like Ace?

Although this is an insane metric and I fully expect it to go wrong probably as soon as CH3, it is practically the only semi-theory we have that could point to future culprits. And since I'm an evidence-based theorist at heart, here's who I believe the killers might be based on the only (and craziest) metric we have. Feel free to ignore the Hail Mary guesses, I have no reasoning for them beyond Vibes.

Arturo - Ribbon (Hail Mary guess - CH4 killer)

Hu: Flowers (Note: Her secret quote plays into why I believe she may be a killer. I fully expect to be wrong on her particularly, and even if she is a killer, I expect her to kill on accident, which is sort of possible with strychnine. I doubt Hu would kill someone on purpose). Hail Mary guess - CH3 killer, no double murder?

Veronika: Hair tie. Hail Mary guess - CH5 killer, double murder?

It could also be Vero's shoes btw, they look similar enough to Mai's.

Rose's stockings are actually also similar to Mai's, but I can't imagine the object for her being stockings instead of, like, her hat or apron.

In fact, that's sort of a counterargument to this entire theory. Even if Vero or Hu are killers, I would expect their objects to be the triangle earring and the butterfly hair accessory respectively. In fact, I see Vero in particular as a victim more than a killer, so that should tell you how confident I am in these things.

Keeping in mind my survivor predictions (Teruko - J - Whit - Levi - Rose), which haven't really changed other than me now considering Levi a more likely survivor than Rose, that would leave the victims as Charles (genuine prediction: CH3), Eden (Hail Mary - CH5), David (Hail Mary - CH5 or CH4), and Nico (Hail Mary - CH4 or CH3). Again, the Hail Marys are purely vibes only and have no attached reasoning.

Finally, for mastermind, there's three people in particular that I find genuine contenders for MM spot, but that will have to wait for a separate, more in-depth post, since this thing does actually have evidence attached.

I hope that was enough to satisfy you! Thanks for the ask, it was fun to think about!

[crissiebaby]

Bab Rats: Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: This POV story contains diaper usage, humiliation, masturbation/diaper sex, hypnosis, gender transformation, breastfeeding, and other ABDL themes. I hope you enjoy!

Commissioned By: Strawberry

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

*TICK! TOCK! TICK! TOCK!*

The second hand on the analog clock echoed rhythmically across the bright waiting room with blue and pink walls. It was a mostly baron space save for a few waiting chairs and couches, some magazines that no one reads on a coffee table, and a receptionist's desk with no one sitting at it. Needless to say, it wasn’t the friendliest environment for the waiting room of an ABDL diaper company.

That being said, neither of the two people sitting in the waiting room paid any mind to their surroundings. Instead, their thoughts were on the insane roles they were volunteering for within said diaper company. “Please mark all kinks and fetishes you are comfortable with,” read Hanna as she worked through the rather lengthy stack of documents held together by the metal clamp of a clipboard. All of the classics were accounted for, from ageplay and bondage to the more intense topics like body modifications and sensory deprivation. Her face became flushed as she began ticking off box after box.

Likewise, her male counterpart, Sam was equally flustered by the kinks he allowed himself to tick off. He peeked up from his clipboard at Hanna before angling his clipboard away from her further in embarrassment. In the back of his mind, he knew that embarrassed feeling was something he was just going to have to live with from now on. After all, both he and Hanna were willingly handing over their privacy and autonomy to a fetish diaper company.

“HELP WANTED: Does a life filled with adulting wear you down? Do you ever wish you could spend your days living in padded luxury just like CrissieBaby? Well, now you can! The CrissBaby Diaper Company is looking for subjects to participate in our brand-new Bab Rats Program. Members of the Bab Rats Program will live on-site and have all of their needs catered to while working with our team of testing specialists!” That’s what the advertisement said as Hanna and Sam were struggling to find any sort of work. It almost seemed too good to be true, even with the ad’s final caveat, “NOTE: Due to the private nature of our company’s work and the various changes our subjects may sustain during testing, members of the Bab Rats Program will become permanent residents of the CrissBaby Diaper Factory.” It was a dubious warning given in no uncertainty. However, in spite of that warning, Hanna and Sam were merely two of the thousands of hopeful applicants who sought to give up their bodies and souls for a lifetime of free diapers and zero responsibilities.

Signing her name and dating the final page of her contract, Hanna let out an anxious, yet exhilarated sigh. Growing up a sheltered girl from the East Coast, she’d always dreamed about being sent back to diapers against her will and turned into an adult baby for the rest of her life. Little did she know that she’d be sentencing herself to a perma-diapered existence: a thought that made her chuckle as she printed her name on the bottom line.

Sam, meanwhile, was equally as tense as Hanna, though without her excitedly horny energy. On paper, he had everything going for him. He was an attractive guy and a college senior with a bright career in electrical engineering on the horizon. It was his hidden fetish for all things ABDL that inevitably did him in. Part of him didn’t believe he had even the slightest chance of being picked for this program. So, to find himself selected as one of the lucky candidates was as jarring as it was bittersweet. Was he really about to throw away his future like it was nothing? As he hesitantly signed his name in broken cursive, it almost felt as though his right hand was making that choice for him.

“Hey…uh…Sam was it?” said Hanna, her voice catching the intensely focused Sam off-guard. She scooted across the couch she was on, inching closer to him as she continued, “Are we just supposed to hang onto these or do they want us to set them…somewhere…” Her ADHD-riddled brain trailed off as she briefly glanced down at the list of kinks he had checked off.

It took Sam a few seconds to register what she was looking at. He immediately shielded his clipboard again, this time wrapping an arm around it and hugging it to his chest. His actions brought additional rosiness to Hanna’s cheeks and caused her to retreat, leaving a strained silence to grow between them.

Mercifully, it was only moments later that the double doors stationed to the left of the reception desk parted, and a smartly dressed woman in a lab coat entered the stilted waiting room. “Hanna? Sam?” she said, waiting for nods of affirmation from her two subjects before continuing, “Excellent! My name is Dr. Isla Madrigal. I’ll be overseeing your progress throughout the Bab Rats Program. Think of me as your new boss…or caregiver. Whatever fills your diaper. If you’ll please follow me, we can get started,” Pushing up her glasses on the bridge of her nose, she spun around on her back foot and opened one of the doors widely for Hanna and Sam not unlike an owner luring pets into a cage.

Hanna promptly stood up and let in a deep lungful of air. She was ready for the rest of her life to begin. Shoving any lingering doubts to the back of her mind, she approached Dr. Madrigal and handed her the keys to her life in the form of a thoroughly vetted contract. “Th-thank you,” she said, her voice cracking slightly due to the height disparity between herself and the kind doctor.

“Of course, Hanna,” said Dr. Madrigal, shifting the clipboard under her arm and petting Hanna’s head softly. She smiled down at the pink-haired shorty, mentally noting how easy it was to make Hanna blush and how dutifully she submitted. Her attention then turned to Sam, who had yet to leave his seat, “Samuel, I’m afraid we must get a move on.”

“O-One second,” stuttered Sam as he frantically moved to finish his documents. He’d never been a speedy test-taker in school, which was unfortunately a trait that carried over to his adult life. He quickly ticked off a few more fetish boxes, wanting to make sure he didn’t leave anything out before scribbling his name on the bottom line. If only he had taken his time, he may have noticed that one of his checkmarks was a tad longer than the others, stretching into the box directly above it. Sadly, he failed to notice this as he rushed to hand off his clipboard to Dr. Madrigal.

With both clipboards in hand, Dr. Madrigal waved Sam and Hanna through the double doors and into a narrow hallway that looked akin to something one would find in a hospital. The blank, white walls were lined with various numbered doors, giving the space a sterile feeling that only bolstered Hanna and Sam’s unease. Thankfully, it wasn’t a far walk from the waiting room to their next destination.

“Ah, here we are!” said Dr. Madrigal as they arrived at a door with the number, 1096, hanging in its center. She unclipped her badge from the breast pocket of her lab coat and scanned it on the card reader to unlock the door, “Welcome to your new home.”

When the ad promised that members of the Bab Rats Program were going to live like CrissieBaby, they meant it. The nursery that Hanna and Sam were ushered into was like something out of an ABDL wet dream. From high-end tech pieces such as the Walker Pro and Auto-Changer to the diaper shelves filled with every variety of CrissBaby brand diapers under the sun, this was a diaper fanatics paradise. Neither Sam nor Hanna could hold back their child-like wonder as they stared across the landscape of their new nursery with mouths agape.

However, for as eager as Hanna and Sam appeared to be to dive head first into all the fun their new surroundings could provide, neither subject moved far beyond the doorway as if waiting for someone to pinch them and wake them up. Luckily, Dr. Madrigal was standing by to reassure them that their new home wasn’t going anywhere. “Make yourselves at home, cuties! You have a bit of time before our first scheduled tests so feel free to play and explore the area,” she said before gesturing to the large pane of glass line positioned on the wall behind her, “If at any time you need anything, either myself or a member of my staff will be in that room monitoring your progress.”

With such an onslaught of important information being thrown at them both visually and verbally, Dr. Madrigal could practically hear the dial-up internet tone ringing over both their heads as they processed what she had said. “W-Wait. We’re living here…together?” said Sam, his big smile fading into concern as he noticed the pair of cribs sitting next to each other, one pink and one blue. It was a tough pill for his ego to swallow as he realized he would now have to share this giant, one-room nursery with an attractive girl while being diapered 24/7, “Why can’t we have our own rooms? No offense, by the way, Hanna.”

“None taken,” chimed in Hanna, who was also grappling with the idea that she would now have to change both her clothes and diapers in the presence of a guy she’d just met, “Or how about maybe we could at least get like a barrier for the changing table? I can be flexible.”

Sadly, Dr. Madrigal could only shake her head at Hanna and Sam’s earnest request. “Apologies but the Bab Rats Program works off a buddy system for both accountability and emotional support. I’m afraid you’ll be bunking together for the foreseeable future,” she said, playing up her sorrow for their situation. In reality, this was her program, and she intended to keep it running like a well-oiled despite any reservations her subjects may have initially, “As for privacy, I’m afraid it’s of vital importance that you both remain visible to my staff and me at all times. I’m afraid that subsequently means you’ll remain visible to each other as well.”

Hanna and Sam were left speechless by this news, with neither of them possessing a single argument to aid their cause. All they could do was slowly come to terms with the conditions of their new living arrangements. They supposed they shouldn’t have necessarily been surprised by the lack of privacy but it was still a shock to the senses to be told all personal privacy was now revoked. Like it or not, they were now roommates living under the watchful eye of the CrissBaby Diaper Company.

*BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!*

“Oh, shoot! That’s the alarm for my next meeting. I hate to cut our intro short but I really must get a move on,” said Dr. Madrigal, backing away from her subjects and stepping through the doorway as she spoke, “I’ll be back later today to conduct your first tests. Try to get yourselves cozy in the meantime. Have fun!”

And with that, the door sealed behind her, leaving Hanna and Sam alone together once again. Rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, Sam knew the first thing he wanted to do was make sure Hanna felt safe around him. “Um, we can work out a system so that we don’t peek at each other whenever we change,” he said, his focus struggling to avoid the eye-candy buffet of ABDL products scattered about.

“Y-yeah, we can always just stand in the corner Blair Witch style if we have to,” responded Hanna, chuckling at her own joke. Unfortunately, based on the odd look Sam gave her, he wasn’t super familiar with the reference. Clearing her throat, she extended a hand toward Sam, “I’m sure we’ll figure something out. Now, I say we try to stop worrying and enjoy ourselves a little. I mean, you can’t tell me you don’t want to try out like everything in here.”

Snickering alongside Hanna, Sam knew he couldn’t deny the truth in Hanna’s statement. “Oh, I most definitely do. Guess we both have to get used to being our diaper pervy-selves around each other,” he said, placing his hand in Hanna’s and shaking hands with his new roomie, “Also, dibs on the Walker Pro first.”

Playfully pouting in response to Sam’s diligent dib-calling, Hanna responded, “Not if I get there first!” Without warning, she abruptly broke from the handshake and took off running in the direction of the Walker Pro.

Not wanting to concede to Hanna, Sam giggled as he chased after her. “Oh, no, you don’t!” he shouted, casting aside any concerns he had and taking a moment to enjoy everything that CrissBaby Diaper Co had to offer.

TO BE CONTINUED…

NEXT »

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

SubscribeStar: subscribestar.adult/crissiebaby pixivFANBOX: crissiebaby.fanbox.cc All CB Links: linktr.ee/crissiebaby

Edited by AllySmolShork

Special Thanks to Our CrissBaby Diaper Company Investors: BlossomBitchDolly BlushyBen DD Exminister Gun1242 JFN LittlePissy PrincessKittenLizzi Strawberry Sweetsamantharebecca

[thornswoggled]

on chises family, "a storm brewing in the east," and future arcs

hello im back from two years of not posting on this sideblog to spitball a theory thats been burning a hole in my brain since i caught up with the manga. all loose speculation, id be extremely interested to hear thoughts on this

now that fumiki is back in the picture, id like to theorize that yuuki hatori will soon follow. for the purpose of this theory im going to skip all the reasons why yori is absolutely fumiki. imo theres no point addressing all the evidence here, but id be happy to summarize if not. more attention being paid to chises life in japan, chise wondering why her father "abandoned his role," and elias expressing curiosity over the circumstances that led her to meet seth are all hints towards yuukis story coming to light

one thing TAMB does that i love is how tertiary characters are facsimiles meant to help us understand our main characters. for example, all the "toxic" pairs we see in season 1 that we are meant to compare and contrast elias and chise to, all in various ways that help us understand the ways their relationship might evolve. these minor characters may seem unimportant, but are preparing us to accept developments in the main cast. i believe there are two characters in the college arc that are prepping us for yuuki hatoris story - seth noel and adam sargent

lets first address fumiki, who ill just call yori. yori seems to have mastery over his eyes, which "have the power to bind [fae]" according to gabriella. this is a power both he and yuuki have, which protects chise and chika for a time. however, chika implies in chapter 19 that he didnt always have this ability, or perhaps didnt have the sight at all until he became involved with her. which is strange, considering yori has a "family business" important enough to require he study abroad to train for:

lets run with the idea that yuuki started off with weak or nonexistent powers. have any other men in this series been booted from their families because they lacked the skill?

its possible that this "family business" (assuming yuuki didnt found it himself, and that yori doesnt just mean the church, which i dont think he does because he seems specialized in exorcism) eventually learned that yuuki acquired his binding powers, as well as a child with the same ability. again, are there are other men who are forcibly dragged back into their family, to the detriment of their young daughters?

theres a few reasons why i think such care and time was put into the backstory of philomelas family. chise has done much of the character growth thats possible for her at this time, and attempts to "fix" philomela as a way of fixing herself. she projects on her, and for good reason too, since we are meant to compare them almost 1:1. i believe that the amount of time sunk into adam sargents story is meant to warm us up to understanding yuukis situation, regardless of whether we are meant to forgive him for his abandonment. seths story, too, introduces us to the idea of magical families booting their unworthy kin. which leads us to:

going back to the screencap for the beginning, lets give yuuki the benefit of the doubt and assume hes being truthful when he promises hell be back for the girls one day. this phrasing is really interesting, and i feel like it implies yuuki knows the place hes going is too dangerous for them. assuming hes returning to his family, or to some sort of organization (which i say because yori is part of the conclave/church), perhaps hes afraid that theyll be taken advantage of. or... maybe he was just lying! there is very little we understand about the church, so there are all manner of reasons why yuuki and yori may have ended up involved with them

so, great, okay. fumiki is here, and yuuki may be coming soon. under what context might he show his face? i have some ideas, but this soon into the arc everything is too subject to change. im also not convinced any of this will be addressed in the fiendbane arc. after all, yori was first introduced at the beginning of the college arc, and is only now becoming relevant. so all of this may only be laying the groundwork for yuuki to return in another arc, if not this one, which appears to have a lot cooking already with the dragon, the new mage, etc. but then again, we get oberons little prophecy:

i think we all understand this is japan, right. like, it has to be. it doesnt seem that oberons phrasing in the JP text matches what the great wall of china is called in japanese, but i dont think we are meant to interpret it any other way. what else could it mean, hadrians wall? cmon

all of this focus on chises family, past, and meeting with seth are perhaps warming us up to these people and places becoming relevant when the storm breaks. and i believe yori and yuuki will be the ones to involve chise in it all. now, at this point its clear yori doesnt know who chise is, and is just as likely to not know he had a sister at all. but i think this guy knows:

now... i double checked, and im almost certain this is not seths bodyguard. they have similar hair and fashion, but seths bodyguard parts his hair to the side. its been so long since yuuki has appeared in the manga that its impossible to know for sure if this is him, and im not confident at all that he is. they share some qualities for sure, but that doesnt mean much in this medium. he certainly has yoris swooping hair, at least, so if hes not yuuki he might still be related to him. in the same family business, perhaps? all we know is that hes been here before, and may have been keeping tabs on them in the same way the church does

the use of "wrest" in the above panel is notable here. to wrest is to forcibly take something, and what kind of "blessing" would they want to seize from elias' possession? maybe a useful slay vega that yuuki failed to disclose? if, IF this is yuuki, his demeanor has changed much over the years, and perhaps he is more willing to put chise to use now that he knows where she is. its possible yuuki is making good on his promise, and really is coming back for his daughter like he said he would. we have, after all, seen in chapter 99 how liam and isaac are both unwilling to return to their homes, and the sudden development of philomela being taken in by the scrimgeours. again, philomela is meant to be a near 1:1 chise dupe, so its compelling that we are just now seeing her spirited away to join another family without warning. again, developments among secondary characters prep us for developments among the main cast

again, too soon to tell, and the next chapter is coming soon, so theres a chance this will all immediately blow up in my face. however, we have already seen chise get scouted by another mage, and elias considers how frightened he is that chise will desire something "he cant provide." so how catastrophic would it be if she was also compelled to rejoin her family, searching for answers and closure in a way elias cannot understand? personally id love to see it, though itll be a long way off

do you think yuuki is coming back? do you think yori is a red herring? let me know. ill leave you with this

[musicalhell]

Persephone's Gambit Extras: More Fun With Tarot

I've said before that I personally don't consider Tarot to be divinatory (believe me, if I knew of a reliable way of predicting the future my life would be a lot easier), but something more of a combination of improvisational storytelling and meditative exercise. The cards don't mean anything until we give them context though our own perceptions and experiences.

That said, the Tarot in Persephone's Gambit does tend to be a means of foreshadowing (or backshadowing, or side-shadowing, as it were). Because I'm the god, and if I want to make the cards tell the characters things they may or may not pay attention to then dammit I'm gonna do it!

So. In the latest chapter (obligatory shameless plug link) we once again see two spreads, a five-card and a three-card. The first is done for Christine and Raoul by a fairground fortune-teller, and though she's typically vague about the meaning it does apply to their situation:

The Wheel of Fortune is at the center of the cross. (The first drafts had the Lovers, which was also appropriate--and fun, because the Universal Monsters deck features Christine and Raoul themselves for that card--but I went with this for The Drama). It's a reminder that the only thing constant is change, and there's always something that's beyond our control. Right now, Christine and Raoul are together, happy, and content....but fall is coming on, and Persephone will need to descend to the underworld. What will happen to them when she does?

The Ten of Swords represents despair, betrayal, and ruin--a perfect summary for where things stood in Phantom's dramatic climax. It's a difficult card to confront, but no Tarot card is wholly good or bad. The Ten cards show the suit in a self-perpetuating cycle--in this case, the cycle of violence that leads to destruction. It confronts us with the harm done to us and by us and says: will you continue in this death spiral, or will you break free?

The Emperor is the Major Arcana that embodies those traits traditionally defined as "masculine:" strength, order, guidance, authority. Upright, the Emperor is a just and benevolent leader, but when he's reversed (as he is here) he becomes a tyrant, abusing his power over others and demanding obedience to rigid, confining systems. It's likely the challenges Christine and Raoul will face in the future will come in this form...

The Eight of Swords represents entrapment and imprisonment (and has my favorite art in the Rider-Waite cards). Christine is afraid of being caged, whether by an Opera career overseen by a domineering, possessive impresario or as an aristocrat's wife that will place rigid limits on her life and activities. Likewise, both Raoul and Erik consider the life the other would offer her as something that would limit her. But the Eight of Swords is also a reminder that the power to free ourselves is always at hand...even if we can't see it just yet.

If the Ten of Swords is the doom of the tragic hero, the Ten of Cups is the fairytale ending. It represents the apotheosis of emotional and spiritual fulfillment: joy, abundance, loving relationships. Faced with the traumas of the past and the uncertainty of the future, it confronts Christine with an enticing yet seemingly impossible resolution. Can she really have it all?

Then at the end of the chapter, Erik does a reading using only the Major Arcana, the most deeply symbolic cards in the deck. It's a good technique when you want a reading with clear, direct answers--and he gets them:

The Tower, like the Ten of Swords, indicates calamity and ruin, often one brought about by the subject's own hubris. Erik has brought grief upon himself and others, and must face the consequences. And like the Ten of Swords, it is a call to action in one's darkest hour. Erik has a choice: sit and decay amid the wreckage of what he has done or, like a good architect, rise up and rebuild on stronger ground.

Erik himself is The Hermit in the UM deck, fitting as this is the card of solitude and social withdrawal. Traditionally, hermits removed themselves from the world for the sake of contemplation and spiritual enlightenment, but a reversed Hermit indicates the subject has become isolated and disconnected from reality. Having spent several days in a state of indolent self-pity, Erik needs a reminder that this situation is not doing him any good.

The Star is the card of hope. It follows the Tower in the Major Arcana and is the first light in the dark, the promise of renewal that follows a bitter and hard end. It reminds Erik that he can find guidance out of his own inner darkness...if he has the courage to seek it.

[huellitaa]

⋅˚₊‧ ୨ getting comfy being uncomfy

──★ ˙ ̟🎀fear

an unpleasant emotion caused by the threat of danger, pain, or harm.

──★ ˙ ̟🎀uncomfortable

causing or feeling unease or awkwardness.

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 1. the differences between the two

first thing; learn the difference between uncomfortable and genuine fear. of course i encourage you to do things out of your comfort zone and push yourself, but never to the point it mentally or physically hurts you. your health in all areas comes first, ALWAYS 💖

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 2. fear of change

please dont be afraid to change! its perfectly okay to grow out of people or places or things you used to love because change is a natural part of being human! we are constantly growing and evolving every day, please dont hold back your success and opportunity to flourish for someone or something else. life is constantly fluid and changing and in motion forever and ever, so staying stagnant is the worst thing u could possibly do bcuz it is such a disservice to you and your life as a whole.

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 3. you are your biggest fan!

be ur own no.1 supporter! i mentioned this in my self reliance post, and i think that applies a lot to this too! ur always gonna be by ur side so prove that to yourself. you'd want someone you love to be there by your side through thick and thin, failure or success, right? be that for yourself! be ur own cheerleader! things change! life goes on! whatever happens, it's always for the best! 🩷✨

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 4. detective work: the analysis chapter!

once youve done something that makes you uncomfortable, what i'd do is id then reflect; but you can do this before or after.

──★ ˙ ̟🎀before

what aspects of said uncomfortable scenario makes you uncomfortable? have you had similar experiences like this in the past that may have triggered this? what are the pros and cons of this situation? will you gain from this?

──★ ˙ ̟🎀after:

was it as uncomfortable as you imagined? why did it make you uncomfortable? how did you feel during said uncomfortable scenario? what did you learn from said uncomfortable scenario?

using this information, you can then log your experiences from this time and decide on how you can incorporate this into next time so you can begin to grow accustomed to it using what you've learnt. think of it like an experiment.

analyse your triggers, recognise what makes you uncomfortable and why that is, study yourself! you are the most important subject you could ever study 🩷✨

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 5. confidence and the learning experience

finally, trust in your ability to bounce back from anything. done something embarrassing? doesn't matter. this is all our first attempt and we are all failing and learning and growing every day through everything. everything that gets thrown at you in life is to teach you something. everything is a lesson to be learnt from so that you can be informed and ready and prepared in future. please remember you've been through worse, and there's nothing that you can't come back from. 💖

all my love 🩷💭✨🎀

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

I love to see my biases get the BB 1s, but when one starts making that their goal, hmm that kind of disconnects me from them as an artist.

I won't say more. I just wish artists I stan placed more focus on the art. Let charts happen naturally.

You're blog isn't like the blind fandom, so I am saying this here.

It's not hard to see through things. Chapter 2 has been interesting so far. I am not making any opinions based of things that are happening, but if it becomes a pattern with the artist, well... that's a problem.

Anon, we both know who were're talking about, lol. I'm gonna use the names, for the sake of making it easier for me to write a response.

A few weeks ago, I was watching this documentary about Wham. Some light entertainment for me initially, but it did offer me the chance for a fresh perspective. I don't exactly remember the details, but they've reached a point in which George Michael wanted to have 4 songs to reach number 1 on some chart, the fourth being Last Christmas. He was a bit obsessed with this and he also wanted to be a bigger artist. In later archival interviews, Michael actually mentions it was his ego as an artist because he knew he could. And he did, he outgrew the boyish band and the situation was almost ideal because Andrew, his bandmate, also knew that. It also meant getting away from their carefully constructed image, the object of desire for teenagers and women everywhere. For George, it was also about stepping away from performing a specific type of heteronormativity that can be found in boy bands. It never crossed my mind while watching it that his ego is too big, or why is he so obsessed with the charts. Maybe because it was all in the past and I've seen what the future would hold for him. Or that when I heard him talk about what he wants to achieve and his inner struggle, there was sincerity there and also that drive that only someone really young can have when they believe they can do anything.

I've read Jungkook's Weverse interview and listened to what he had to say during the Seven promotions. And while there may be some comparisons to be made to how George Michael came across when talking about his musical career, there were also some differences.

I'm glad to see Jungkook being more confident. I remember some of the things he used to say in the past, about his self worth, a lack of confidence and meaning outside the group. That wasn't healthy. And to hear him now, especially on Suchwita, it's a 180° change. But in his case, there's a very fine line between being confident and becoming cocky. And that's not a good look. It's almost like he's trying to project an image of a new Jungkook but one that is still in the works and not all parts fit perfectly together. He's going through a transformation ever since the hiatus, which I expected. It was about having to adapt to a different pace, life after 10 years of being part of a group. Jungkook was always trying to find his identity and this single is only one step in that journey.

But that doesn't mean that I as a fan and as a person, have to like it. If it doesn't match with what I'm looking for in the artists that I'm interested in, then so be it. I will talk about it, but I'll also not follow that person's musical career anymore. If I don't like the artistic direction and I don't like this overconfident, slighly exaggerated bravado, then that's it.

It's also impossible to not make a comparison to Jimin. Not for some dick measuring contest (it's what pjms and jjks are doing), but because there is room and justification for it. Both are from the same kpop group, both have embarked on a solo career and both chose a more mainstream pop music, as opposed to their older bandmates. And both got that BB 1. And what we can compare is song quality, artist reaction and how the company's response came across into fan spaces.

In terms of the songs, I could write entire essays because at the end of the day, it wouldn't matter. It's all subjective. There is no rule that says a number one song should be about some personal experience, or the singer should have writing credits on it. And I also can't take away my subjectivity. I will chose Like Crazy over a song that not only sounds like a Bieber tune from years ago, but also has lyrics as if they were written by the boys from Larry Clark's Kids.

As to the reaction, Jimin did exactly what I expected him to do. He was humble, grateful and emotional and we saw that when he turned on the livestream. It's what makes him who he is and how he always behaves. As opposed to that, Jungkook wanted to be appear cool. And for what? Especially when later he said how excited he actually was but he refrained from expressing that. Where's the authenticity that he seeks so much through his livestreams? Because he released a song about sex for which he never officially performed live the explicit version, that means that the attitude should match that? I know the next day he was live and he was really nice. But that entire event is tainted in my mind with this almost expectation and confidence that he'll get that no. 1 and after he got the western validation, they decided to remember there's fans at home too and went to Inkigayo.

Which leads me to the last point that shows the obvious bias and preference that cannot simply be denied when it comes to BH. It's even more obvious because the entire BTS brand was that there are no favorites, which is not the same strategy as with other companies and groups. And now, all of a sudden, there is. It's great that BH celebrates an artist's success and they can immediately put on a show. But it doesn't justify how the first one to have the achievement was ignored. I have to admit, I was happy when Jimin got his no. 1 because I thought it only meant more promotions, more Jimin, more of everything. Just to be left utterly confused.

I've put that all in the past and I really try not to get too emotionally involved because as an individual, it has no bearing on my personal life and it doesn't have that many negative effects on my fan engagement.

I side eye Jungkook for how he presents himself in official promotions, but then he goes live and all of a sudden, it's the Jungkook that I'm used to. The guy who is a dork and funny and grateful to his fans. The one who cries hearing fan songs and who still beats himself up for hours because he messed up a song. I do criticize some of his actions and statements, but I'm not slandering him. The guy seems like a genuinely nice person and I still like him. He's still one of my biases for many reasons. But me having this reaction to content catered specifically for fans to create a more intimate connection is something BH was always good at. We only have to look at all the BTS footage out there. They've perfected the way in which personality comes first a lot of the times. It's what draws fans in (aside from music) and what keeps them interested. I'm part of that.

I'm convinced that it's most likely that a Jungkook fan or army or whoever disagrees with me, will read all this and believe I hate Jungkook. Which would be a shame because all I'm trying to do is explain how complex this situation is. It's never as black and white as solo stans would like everyone to believe and it's not a debate that can be generalized and tossed aside as solo talk by the ot7 chorus. I'm sure there are a lot of reasonable people in this fandom still who are able to have more than one thought in their head and see that only through a naunced discussion we can look at facts, see what's an exaggeration and what's false. To be able to distinguish between facts and personal opinion and also to admit that. That's not possible if we're not looking at these people as complex beings, instead of victims and villains.

[justagalwhowrites]

Angsticipation 2k23

Hi Yearling Besties!

I meant to post this yesterday but I got a migraine while out doing our annual run to the Christmas store (we get custom ornaments like Joel got for Beautiful in NIT and I always get a Christmas village house and this year we got a new Christmas tree for the front window because I'm a crazy person who has multiple Christmas trees I'm not even a Christian but OMFG I love secular Christmas stuff so much) and I was in too much pain to do much of anything when we got home.

ANYWHO

Below the cut is the real world timeline for when the BIG ANGST (TM) is coming in Yearling. I will not give away what it is, just roughly when you can expect the chapter to hit and how many chapters you'll be looking at with big angst happening. All of this is subject to change, but I'm pretty set with where we are in the timeline and how things are going to go in the immediate future. Still, grain of salt.

See you on the other side!

We are 2-4 chapters out from the THE BIG ANGST! It's going to be most acutely painful at the start and then still be intense for a bit with some easing toward the end. I expect this time period to last about 5 chapters, definitely fewer than 10. The dive into the angst I think will come right before Thanksgiving and I'll do a warning post like this one a day or two before I post that chapter.

Part of the issue here is that the angst is triggered by a sizable reveal that I've been building toward for a hot minute. I may end the chapter at the reveal, I may push it through into the angst part, we'll see how it shakes out in the writing. That's part of why I'm not super sure on the chapter count? But yeah. IT'S SOON Y'ALL!

I promise it will make sense. I promise it's not just for fun. I promise they'll grow and learn from it.

It's just gonna be really bad for a while.

Thanks for being here for this story and these characters, even with the impending angst!!

Love you!!!