#but I do kinda think this every time someone is like

[pearlescentparade]

may I ,,, request ,,, 007n7 fluff w sprinkles of angst and a possibly obsessive killer!reader ,, borderline yandere

kinda a mixture of "this is a Murderer" but also yearning for the affection after being so outcast for so long from 07,, not knowing whether to pull away or give in idk.

iiii don't know how specific I should get ! but,, cuddling, smothering his ass ,,,,,,,,

first yandere request on the list TIME TO GET EVIL

evil ass reader also warning this ended up being more angsty than requester asked so actually its more of a truckload of angst with a sprinkle of fluff

guilty pleasure �� 007n7 x obsessive killer reader "fluff" + angst 💝❤️‍🩹

there's that feeling again, returning like an old friend.

that feeling that he is committing an abhorrently and inherently wrong act, yet 007n7 cannot find it in him to stop.

back then, in his days of exploiting, he never stopped. why would he? there was no shame in it. it was all good fun to a careless god-player.

he had no shame.

now, he has an abundance.

he's never been one for religion. he knew his terrorism disqualified him from salvation. but this.. situation, he thought, could be the karma finally catching up to him. that, or 007n7 just cannot ween himself off of immorality, even when he's turning a new leaf. old habits do die hard, after all.

you nuzzle into him as if he's some oversized teddy bear, digging your nose into his hair and inhaling his scent. it's musky, you can tell he's neglected showering for the last few days. but in comparison to someone like you who is constantly bathed in the stench of blood, he smells like high-end perfume that you'd love to drench every inch of yourself in.

he repulses a bit, a grimace flashing across his face at your outward sappiness. though, it's only seconds before he hesitantly snuggles up again, unable to withstand the loss of contact he himself created. it's rare for him to come across someone—or something, would be a more appropriate word to describe you—so willing to touch him, love him no less. beggars can't be choosers, he supposes, so he ought to cherish every disgusting drop of whatever this is. it fits him.

however, 007n7's mind is thrown into equivocation again when the horrifically unpleasant aroma of iron pierces his senses.

how could he forget? you are stained with the blood of his peers and other innocent victims infinite times over, so much so that it has been ingrained on your very being. was he that desperate that he'd take love from even the deranged? no, he was better than this-!

he firmly pushes off of you with both his arms and feet, intent on breaking out of this intimate cage you've trapped him in. a strangled grunt escapes from his throat as he struggles.

his effort works for a moment, your eyes widening as your grip falters. though, it takes only seconds before you capture him back in your arms again. even with his motivated resolve and advantage of the element of surprise, 007n7 is fairly weak, and it's laughable how easy it is to overpower him.

"oh 7, you scared me.. where did you think you were going?" you coo, cradling him like a child. even if he did manage to break free, you know he would not be able to get far. you're lucky you chose someone so unathletic.

007n7 still kicks and screams. he attempts to wrench your hands off of him as he splutters, "let- let go of me..!" his clothes angrily rustle as he twists, shoves, writhes. some specks of blood from your claimed lives have rubbed off on his lovely blue shirt.

despite his sudden outburst, your voice is patronizing, oozing with a doting urge, as if he is simply crying for your attention, "aw, did i squeeze you too hard?" you gently caress the side of his cheek with the side of your finger, "i'm sowwyyyy, i'll be more gen-"

"you're a filthy mu-murderer!! get- away....!"

in the split second that he lets that word leave his throat, your sweet face drops into a empty frown.

oh. so that's what this fit is about.

007n7 feels a cold pang strike his heart upon your dark expression, his previous anger being rapidly displacing with a flood of fear. yet what scares him even more is your lack of action. no sudden jerky movements with the intent to kill, no growling or other signs of rage, simply a look. that is the scariest wrath of all.

his wide, shaking eyes follow the movement of your claw, which slowly inches towards his face until you cup it in a swift and deft motion. it's not harsh, but it is sudden. and it is enough to make him think he'll die. you can feel his pulse thumping heavily through his soft flesh, undeniably afraid.

he can only watch as you lean in close, positioning yourself near his ear.

"you too."

you couldn't have stated it any more plainer. it was a simple statement, like wishing for a someone to also have a good day. yet, when you pull away, his face is completely pale, shrunken pupils painted with terror. he looks as if he'd seen a ghost, perhaps one from his past.

defeated and miserable, 007n7 does nothing as you hold him close again, in a silent understanding that he could only ever be loved by monsters like him.

nothing, aside for a shaky hand gingerly placing itself on your bloody back.

(parade postscript: i need to stop being illiterate and follow the requests more closely sob)

[joeldarling]

Pretty Thing - Oldman!Joel x F!reader (+18)

Summary: You need to change a tire and a pretty stranger helps you with, but, of course, you have to pay him back somehow.

Warnings: MINORS DNI! F!reader, porn without a bigger plot, AGE GAP (Joel is 60), no reader description at all, p in v, public (kinda?) sex, no protection, JOEL IN GLASSES MENTIONED.

Word count: 1,9k.

A/N: English it’s not my first language, sooooo, you know. You can find more spicy and oldman!Joel in my masterlist as well. I am currently working on another soft request and might turn into a mini-series so let me know what you think! Feedbacks are utterly appreciated and my requests are always open. 💌

You know your tire is flat the moment you hear the wheel rim hitting the asphalt, and you can't help but sigh in exasperation. You're exhausted; the Texas heat is almost cruel, and it's bad enough that your old pickup truck doesn't have AC. Being inside an unventilated vehicle under the scorching sun is almost like being inside an oven, and worst of all, you don't have the slightest idea how to change a tire. You'd never been unlucky enough before and had always tried to be careful, not speeding and swerving around potholes.

But you were in a hurry that day, needing to deliver some packages for your father and get home by dinnertime to prepare something for him and feel more like a good daughter, pushing to the back of your mind the regret of not having stayed in Austin for college, but returning years later when your career hadn't even taken off.

To you, it was almost funny.

Well, things like this happen all the time.

You just needed some time to figure out what you would do with your life, and until then, you considered it a good idea to try and reconnect with the man who had resented you your whole life, treating you like a burden because your mother had decided to leave, throwing the responsibility of raising you onto him.

The spare tire was probably fine; you'd had that pickup since you were sixteen, and now, at twenty-four, your finances didn't allow for extra expenses on a newer car. Not that you cared. You were a simple girl, after all.

You got out of the vehicle, going to the back to open the tailgate; due to the lack of phone signal, not even a self-help video would be possible. You only knew that you needed to unscrew some things and fit others, nothing very practical.

You felt like lying down on the hot asphalt and staying there until a car passed and ran you over to death, but you couldn't be any later, and so, you started trying to remove the used spare tire from the pickup, without success since the lock was too tight. A few minutes later, you were almost giving up, and even if you could call someone, you simply had no one to call. Your father wouldn't come and the truck's overdue insurance even less so. You would have to figure it out yourself.

“Needin’ sum’ help over there, girl?” A stranger's voice echoed, making you jump. You hadn't even noticed his sudden approach, too caught up in your miserable thoughts to care about whoever it was. “Seems like your car’s fucked up.”

When you turn around, the air leaves your lungs, as if the heat had taken over every cell in your body, causing you to choke, stumbling over the words you want to say but can't. Damn, the stranger is possibly the most handsome man you've ever seen; the type of real beauty that makes your pussy wet, with strong hands that know how to take care of a woman.

Your spiral of thoughts scares you, but you take a deep breath; you shouldn't even be thinking about this, after all, you have a bigger problem. The man is clearly old enough to be your father, you don't even like to think about it, but you can't help it. He had a cigarette butt in his mouth, his gray hair swept back with dark curls, and he definitely had a prominent belly that made you gasp.

“Yea… Erm… My…” You point, unable to say anything else. “Not strong enough to take off the other one. It's too tight.”

And suddenly, you don't even think about the dangers that this could present. The man could be a murderer or worse, but your instincts were calm enough that your only concern was your own attire: the short lace dress, the worn leather boots, and your clear lack of sense in not wearing a bra, after all, you had planned to return home quickly.

The stranger approached the flat tire, observing it carefully, and then looked at you.

“Ya’ smoke?” He asked. You didn’t smoke, but you nodded, anxious to please that man. “M’name is Joel. Don’t worry, girl. It’ll be quick.”

You thank him in a murmur and offer him your name, which he repeats clearly, curious. You appreciate the way it sounds sweeter on his lips. Joel it’s obviously in his sixties, wearing glasses that gave away his age, flannel with jeans, even in all that heat, he didn't seem bothered, he was naturally attractive.

Joel easily removed your spare tire, changed the flat, and secured the old one back in place, even tighter. You would have it fixed as soon as possible.

You don't talk, but at times your eyes meet. He analyzes you like an experiment. Joel was just an old man who hadn't touched a woman in years, and of course, by his own choice. Even now that his daughters were grown and lived in different places, even now that he could take anyone he wanted home, he didn't like all the hunting. And well, you seemed to be offered to him on a silver platter; he had observed your reactions. The way you sighed when he took off his flannel, remaining only in his white tank top, lightly smudging the light cotton fabric with dirt from the tire, or how you seemed to stammer, trying to say something and uttering absolutely nothing, your beautiful mouth opening and closing several times.

“Ready to go, girl.” He said, wiping his dirty hands on his pants. Of course, he didn't expect any payment, but you nodded, heading towards the driver's side of the pickup, looking for your wallet and your last twenty dollars which would certainly make a difference later. It just felt wrong to let Joel go away empty-handed.

As you stretched your body to reach the small bag where you kept your things, you simply felt Joel's presence behind you; he held your waist firmly. The dress was too short for you to do that; of course, part of you had done it on purpose. He rubbed his hip against your butt. Joel was already hard, and you wondered when that had happened, not that your pussy wasn't equally wet, needing his attention since you had seen him for the first time.

"Don't need your money, pretty thing," he said, his drawl vibrating in every word as you felt him lift your dress, exposing your skin and the lace panties that barely covered anything, completely soaked for him. "It seems like you want this too, hm? Ya' made pretty obvious."

Damn.

It's nothing romantic, of course not. Your body is burning with desire for him, for a man who won't disappoint you and will do the hard work. It's hot, and the sun seems to have multiplied, but you can only feel Joel in every corner of your mind. That stranger who seemed to come from the same place as you, but for sure, Austin was big enough that you didn't know him. No kisses, but his hands slide over your waist, squeezing your flesh, and you can hear his hoarse moans, as if he's as needy as you are.

He only stops touching you to open the buckle of his leather belt and pull down his jeans just to his knees. Joel massages his own cock, completely hard and dripping with precum. You do nothing to stop him; in fact, you only arch yourself even more towards him. And when Joel pushes your panties aside, groaning at the sight of your cunt, you let out the same sound in return, almost begging him, but speaking felt wrong, too intimate, too much.

He enters you slowly, surprised by how tight you were but wild enough not to even care if you were a virgin or not, and just the thought of being your first makes him bury the rest of his lenght all at once, his cock hitting your spongy point specifically as the pain dissipated with the pleasure. Obviously, you weren't a virgin, but the only boyfriend you had in college felt like a distant past when Joel started to move, in and out.

He wanted to paint you white with his cum and as you moaned his name in a kind of mantra, Joel used one of his hands and wrapped it in your hair, pulling hard.

“Such a pretty tight cunt…” He groaned, his breath coming in gasps as your bodies dripped with sweat. Your breasts rubbed against the fabric of your dress, causing a delicious friction. You wanted more and more of him until you couldn't think anymore.

Seeming to hear your thoughts, he simply picked up the pace while letting go of your hair, and your face met the upholstery of the seat. Your hands searched for something to hold onto but Joel pinned both your wrists against your back, having complete control of everything else.

“Gonna fill ya’ up with my cum and put a baby on you so I can keep fuckin’ ya’ for the rest of m’life.” He seemed extremely willing, and you didn't fight it; it didn't seem like a bad idea. But all you could think about at that moment was how much you needed to cum and make a complete mess under his cock.

“Joel… Please…” You begged.

“Cum for me, babygirl. Make a mess for me, hm?” He seemed equally close to filling you with his cum and part of you wanted Joel to release first. But upon hearing his command, it was as if the rest of the world went silent.

You moaned his name loudly one last time; it felt so good, the way he cared about your pleasure, everything. You reached your orgasm like never before; your legs trembled, you felt your vision darken, and he didn't stop for a moment, thrusting in and out of your pussy as if his life depended on it. He savored every moment of it, making it last much longer than you were used to.

“Fuck, so tight, darlin’... M’gonna cum so good, babygirl.” He announced between his uneven breaths. Joel, despite his age, was still completely in shape; maybe it was the fact that he was feeling a pussy around his cock after a long time… He couldn't say, it just felt fucking good.

Joel finally came all inside of you, the feeling of being filled up with his cum was delicious. He seemed ecstatic and you wished so badly to see his face at that moment, but you felt completely drained, receiving everything Joel was willing to give you. You simply blacked out for a few seconds, regaining consciousness only when he finally pulled out of you, leaving a white, viscous, and warm trail.

He carefully turned your body, knowing your legs were too weak to support your own weight, and held your waist, settling you onto the seat after adjusting your panties and running his thumb across your throbbing pussy, bringing it to his lips and murmuring how delicious you were.

"Gonna need sum' time to recover, pretty thing," he said, looking equally exhausted, covered in sweat, and kept his hands on your body. "Gonna make ya' mine for sure. Never gonna change a damn tire again."

When your eyes met his, this time seeming permanent, you didn't deny any of it. God knew how much you needed someone to take care of you, and if fate had put this stranger in your path, who were you to argue?

[tarotbyjam24]

Pick a pile : Your future spouse\lover 's 4 am spicy thoughts and advice for you mdni [LGBTQ friendly]

pile 1 pile 2 pile 3 pile 4

Masterlist pick a piles feedbacks

Hi there! Hope you found the readings helpful.

Your likes, reblogs, and feedback are so important to me 🩷. Which pile did you connect with? 🫶🏻 I'm curious to know! These are general, so take what resonates.

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While channeling these thoughts I felt as if I was being a chicken when you two were talking 😭 because like tell me why am I here while you two are talking in your bed cuddling eachother and laughing dearly 🫠

Pile एक

I think every woman wants a man to look her in the eyes, caress her cheek and tell her to take her fucking pant*es off...

You know you're fuc*ed when their voice turns you on.

When you're so turned on that you can't even think or talk.When all you want is to feel that body against yours.

Date someone you can have rough s*x with and deep conversations with whether it's two in the morning or two in the afternoon.

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Pile दो

Getting fu*ked to sleep every night by the love of my life is what I deserve tbh.

When their gentle side makes you weak & their dominant side makes you w*t.

Casual s*x is dead.I wanna fu*k you and feed you and care for you and support your goals and do shit with you and help you out and nap with you dammit!

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Pile तीन

I like that "morning baby" kinda relationship. The no games, great communication, lots of s*x, lots of ki*sing, lots of cuddling, lots of flirting, lots of being goofy kind of relationship. That makes you want to run 100 miles, read books, clean up your bad habits kind of love.

Every person deserves to wake up in bed next to a man\woman that is happy to see her\him\them beside him\her\their , that kisses her\him\them in spite of morning breath, and can't get out of bed before making love to her\him \ them again.

It's easy to take off your clothes and have s*x. People do it all the time. But opening up your soul to someone, letting them into your spirit, thoughts, fears, future, hopes, dreams... that is being nak*d.

I'm sorry but s*x will never be enough just for me to stick around. I need my soul fed. Spiritual growth. Teach me. Mold me. Guide me. Talk to me. Love me. Connect with me and UNDERSTAND ME

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Pile चार

Intimacy is such a huge fucking turn on. Not just physical intimacy but the kind where someone lets you in their mind. The closeness of being mentally, emotionally and energetically connected is hot.

I like that "morning baby" kinda relationship. The no games, great communication, lots of kissing, lots of cuddling, lots of flirting, lots of being goofy kind of relationship. That makes you want to run 100 miles, read books, clean up your bad habits kind of love.

Forget about sleeping together. The real question is, can you still love her\him\them when she\he \they is\are overthinking, sending you 10 messages in a row because she\he\they need(s) reassurance? Can you support her\him\them when she\he\they is\are anxiously making sure she\he \they still wanted, and that you won't leave her\him\them when times get tough? Real love is about being there through her\his\their insecurities, calming her \him \ them fears, and proving that your commitment is strong. It's about showing her\him\them that she\he \they is\are loved and valued, even when she\he \they feel(s) most unsure and vulnerable.

You can be a genuine, loyal, and good-hearted person. AND YOU CAN ALSO BE A DIRTY, H*RNY, LITTLE S*X MONSTER. They are not mutually exclusive.

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Thanks for being here and allowing me to share. Sending good vibes your way! Love, jam

[jinjoohaa]

Room for One more ?

Pairing - JJK Men x reader

prev chapter | next chapter

Chapter 2

“Cheers to our new roomie!”

Gojo announced loudly, raising a shot glass high above his head, standing in front of the music-blaring TV like it was a goddamn stage.

You were curled up at the end of the couch, flustered beyond reason after being manhandled from the balcony by Gojo’s impossibly strong arms, your whole body still pulsing from that bizarre Toji encounter.

“I'm—uh, I really don’t—drink much,” you said, palms up, shrinking into the cushion as Gojo pressed a full shot into your hand.

Geto plopped down next to you, one arm draped over the back of the couch, dangerously close to your shoulder. “C’mon, one won’t kill you.”

“You’ll sleep better,” Gojo grinned, clinking his glass with yours before knocking his shot back like it was candy. “Besides, you already signed the roommate contract. This is part of the hazing.”

You gave him a look. “There’s… a contract?”

“Verbal,” Geto added smoothly, fingers brushing your sleeve as he grabbed his beer from the table. “Binding by presence.”

“Peer pressure is a crime, you know,” you muttered, trying to hand the shot glass back.

But Gojo was already pouring another. “And yet… you’re still here. Kinda sus.”

You blinked. “Sus?”

“Suspicious,” Geto murmured, eyes fixed on you with that unreadable half-lidded stare, his smile low and lazy. “You sure you didn’t want us to get you drunk?”

Your jaw dropped. “I—I—No?!”

“Relax,” Gojo laughed, leaning down so his face was inches from yours, silver hair falling over his eyes. “We’re just messing with you.”

Your cheeks burned.

“But seriously,” Geto cut in, voice lower now, smoother, “a drink or two helps. Loosens the nerves. And you’ve looked like a deer in headlights since you stepped in here.”

You sighed.

Then drank.

It burned.

You coughed immediately, blinking fast, your whole chest heating.

“Attagirl,” Gojo grinned, already filling another. “You didn’t make a face. I’m proud.”

“Cute one,” Geto said, sipping his beer.

You turned redder.

The next shot came quickly. Then a third.

You weren’t sure when you stopped protesting.

The music thumped in the background. Toji was sitting on the armchair across from you, one hand wrapped around a beer bottle, dark eyes flicking up every now and then to watch silently. He hadn’t said anything since Gojo carried you in.

But his presence was heavy. Quiet and coiled.

“You know,” Gojo said, stretching beside you on the couch, legs wide and easy, “you’re a lot more relaxed now.”

“That’s ‘cause I’m dying,” you muttered, blinking slowly.

He teased you, finger poking your cheek. “All sleepy and droopy and—look at this little pout.”

You pouted harder, turning your head away. “Stop touching me.”

“Why?” Geto said smoothly from your other side. “You’re not exactly pushing us away.”

You tried to say something—anything—but Geto's hand had rested low behind you now, fingers barely brushing the fabric of your shirt.

Toji’s bottle clicked against the table as he stood abruptly. “Tch.”

You flinched.

He didn’t speak. Just walked past the couch and disappeared into Gojo and Geto’s shared bedroom, the door swinging shut behind him.

“…Did I do something?” you asked blearily.

Gojo waved a hand. “That’s just Toji. He gets pissy if he doesn’t get his alone time.”

“Or when someone else touches what he wants,” Geto muttered under his breath.

Gojo glanced at him. “Dude.”

“What?”

You blinked. “I’m not—he doesn’t—I mean, he’s not even nice to me?”

Geto smirked. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

You tried to process that but the shots were hitting hard now. Your limbs felt loose, your head a little floaty, like someone had cut the strings tethering you to gravity.

You yawned without meaning to.

Gojo leaned in. “Aw. Getting sleepy?”

“I think I need water,” you mumbled.

“Or another drink,” Geto said.

You shook your head. “No more, I—”

“Last one,” Gojo promised. “Swear. Just to celebrate.”

You gave in.p

The last thing you remembered clearly was the two of them laughing as your body slumped against Gojo’s side, and Geto whispering something in your ear that made your cheeks burn even in your haze.

Everything after that blurred into warmth, pressure, a spinning ceiling—and then, black.

Your head felt like a brick had been dropped on it.

No—several bricks. Sharp, heavy ones. Maybe even a few rusty nails thrown in.

The first thing you noticed was the blaring pain behind your eyes. The second—was that you couldn’t move.

Because something heavy was draped across your torso.

Correction: someone.

“…What the—?” you mumbled, blinking through the haze of a hangover.

You were on the living room floor. Blanket crumpled under your legs. A pillow from the couch shoved behind your head. But it wasn’t the setting that made your heart leap into your throat.

It was the man curled up on top of you.

Gojo Satoru.

Sprawled across your body like a human octopus, arms wrapped tightly around your middle, head tucked low against your chest—his cheek was literally resting right between your breasts.

And even worse, he was nuzzling. In his sleep.

Your breath caught in your throat.

He let out a soft groan, rubbing his face further into the soft space beneath your collarbones. “Mmh… warm…”

You tensed. "Gojo—"

He didn’t wake. Just tightened his hold like you were his personal teddy bear.

You peeked to the side. Geto was passed out on the couch, one arm dangling off the side, mouth slightly open. A beer bottle rolled next to his fingers.

Toji was nowhere in sight.

The memories came back in pieces. The music. The teasing. The drinks. Gojo handing you one. Then another. Geto laughing as you squinted at the bitter liquid. You hadn’t wanted to drink—but they kept pushing, and you’d just wanted to blend in, to seem cool, to not be that girl.

You groaned softly. Your limbs were heavy, sore. Your body still buzzing uncomfortably from the leftover alcohol.

And Gojo’s arm was locked across your waist like a steel bar.

You wriggled. “Gojo—wake up—”

He grumbled again, barely lifting his head—blue eyes squinting open sleepily, then immediately closing again as he pressed closer to your chest.

“…soft…” he murmured.

You yelped under your breath. “Satoru—!”

That’s when you heard the soft click of a door opening.

Your head snapped up.

Nanami walked out of his room, hair messy but still somehow composed, dressed in a plain t-shirt and sleep pants, rubbing at the bridge of his nose with one hand.

He stopped mid-step.

Staring.

At you.

On the floor.

With Gojo’s face stuffed in your cleavage.

You froze. Wide-eyed.

“I—it’s not—! I didn’t—I mean—I was just—!”

Nanami blinked once. Then again.

A pause.

Then—

“I see,” he said simply. No judgment. No panic. No disgust. Just… neutral.

You scrambled to sit up, only for Gojo to tighten his hold again with a sleepy whine. “Don’t go…”

“I wasn’t—he—he’s the one who—I fell asleep—I didn’t mean to—!”

Nanami raised a hand gently. “It’s alright.”

You wanted to melt into the floor.

“I don’t usually drink,” you added quickly, heart racing. “They—they just kept giving me shots and I didn’t want to be rude and I—”

Nanami actually smiled. Small. Gentle. The corner of his mouth twitching upward like he found you mildly amusing.

“You don’t need to explain. I’ve seen worse. Especially from him.”

You exhaled in relief, cheeks still burning.

“Would you like some coffee?” he asked.

You nodded furiously. “Please.”

He stepped closer. “Let me help.”

With quiet, careful hands, he crouched next to you, gently prying Gojo’s arm off your waist with the precision of someone who’d done this before.

Gojo whined again, reaching out blindly.

Nanami caught his hand mid-air. “Let. Her. Go.”

Gojo grunted, rolling onto his side with a groggy pout, arm flopping over a cushion instead.

You scrambled to your feet, wobbling slightly. Nanami reached out instinctively to steady you, one hand on your elbow.

“You’re pale,” he murmured. “Drink water first.”

You nodded again, grateful, and followed him toward the kitchen.

The apartment was quiet now. Only the soft hum of the fridge and the faint city buzz beyond the windows. The calm after last night’s storm.

Nanami moved through the kitchen like it was a sanctuary. Precise, measured, clean. He opened the cabinets, poured water into a glass, and handed it to you.

You drank it all in one go.

“Better?” he asked.

“A little,” you said, voice small.

He nodded. “Coffee?”

You watched him fill the pot, grind the beans, start the machine. He was calm. Soothing. A sharp contrast to Gojo’s chaos and Geto’s teasing touches.

“…Thank you,” you said quietly.

He glanced over. “For the coffee?”

“For… this. Not making it weird.”

He looked at you for a long moment. “You’re young. And they’re… overwhelming. You don’t need to match their energy to be accepted here.”

You blinked. “But if I don’t… won’t they think I’m boring?”

He gave a soft scoff. “You are boring. But in a good way.”

Your eyes widened.

He smirked. Just a little. “Stability is rare in a house like this. Don’t lose it.”

You stared at him, the thrum of your pulse still loud in your ears—but slower now. More grounded.

The coffee finished brewing, and Nanami poured two mugs. One he placed in front of you. The other he took for himself.

Outside, Gojo was snoring. Geto hadn’t moved.

The sun was starting to rise.

Nanami stood across from you, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly mussed like he hadn’t yet fully settled into the day. He leaned back against the counter, arms folded as he watched you with that gentle intensity of his.

“So,” he said, his voice smooth but low, “how are you feeling?”

You blinked, holding the mug tighter. “Honestly? My head is trying to kill me.”

“Hangover,” he said. “Expected.”

“I didn’t plan on drinking that much,” you muttered.

“I know,” he nodded. “I saw them push you.”

“…You did?”

“I was watching from the hallway for a while,” he admitted. “I wanted to see how they’d treat you.”

You looked up, surprised.

Nanami’s expression was unreadable, but kind. “I don’t enjoy chaos. Especially when it involves people who deserve peace.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“I didn’t even want to come here, honestly,” you confessed softly. “But I had nowhere else affordable. Everything’s so… much.”

He walked over slowly and placed his mug down beside yours. “If anything ever gets overwhelming—whether it’s Gojo, Geto, or Toji—call me. Even if I’m in my room. You knock. You call. I’ll help.”

You stared at him, warmth pooling in your chest for a different reason now. “You barely know me.”

“I’ll get to know you,” he said simply. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Sharing space. Respect. I believe in that.”

Your throat tightened slightly.

He pulled a chair out beside you and sat, more relaxed now. “So tell me. What do you like?”

“Um… in what way?”

Nanami gave a small chuckle. “Start anywhere.”

You took a breath. “I like quiet mornings. Reading… fantasy books. I don’t get much time for it lately. And I like dancing. But not in public.”

He nodded. “That tracks. You’re… a bit reserved.”

“That’s putting it nicely,” you said with a laugh.

He looked at you seriously. “That’s not an insult.”

Before you could answer, the kitchen door creaked open and Geto shuffled in, shirt rumpled, eyes half-lidded with sleep.

“Mornin’,” he mumbled, yawning hard and scratching his neck. “Damn, it’s bright in here.”

Nanami’s face hardened immediately. “Don’t start.”

“Huh?”

Nanami raised a brow. “Don’t play dumb, Geto. You and Gojo didn’t exactly make her feel safe last night.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Geto said, hands up in mock surrender. “It was all Gojo. I’m innocent.”

Nanami stared him down. “You sat next to her. Let him pour drink after drink. Watched her pass out.”

Geto smirked. “I was enjoying the company.”

“She’s not here to be entertainment.”

“I know,” Geto said softly, then glanced at you. “Sorry, by the way. If I crossed a line.”

Your mouth opened, surprised by the apology.

“Thanks,” you said quietly.

Nanami exhaled through his nose. “Just don’t make things harder.”

“I won’t,” Geto said. “Unless you ask nicely.”

Nanami glared.

“Okay, okay,” Geto grinned, grabbing a banana from the counter and peeling it dramatically. “Peace offering.”

Just then, the door to the living room swung open and Gojo’s head popped in, bright and mischievous.

“Morning, my favorite people!”

Nanami groaned softly. “No.”

Gojo ignored him entirely. “Guess what day it is?”

You blinked. “Saturday?”

“Getting to Know the New Roommate Day!” Gojo beamed. “It’s tradition. I just made it up.”

“No,” Nanami said.

“Yes,” Gojo said, already grabbing your wrist and tugging you up from the stool.

“C’mon, sunshine. Time to be interrogated by four emotionally stunted men.”

You half-laughed, half-panicked as he led you to the living room. Everyone was there now—Toji slouched on one side of the couch, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Geto followed behind with a fresh coffee in hand. Nanami was reluctantly taking a seat at the edge, clearly against this whole setup.

“Okay,” Gojo clapped, sitting in front of you, legs crossed like a kid at story time.

“Ground rules: you answer honestly, we each take turns. No skipping.”

“This feels illegal,” you said.

“Only mildly,” Geto smirked.

Nanami sighed. “Let’s get it over with.”

Gojo grinned. “I’ll start. What’s your biggest fear?”

You blinked. “That’s the first question?”

“Toji said I couldn’t ask if you were a top or bottom, so yeah,” Gojo shrugged.

Your jaw dropped. “What—?!”

Toji snorted under his breath.

“Okay, okay,” Geto cut in. “Let’s ease her into it. What’s your major?”

You glanced at him, grateful. “Economics.”

“Hot,” he said immediately.

Nanami groaned again.

Toji’s turn came, and he didn’t even pretend to think.

“Are you a virgin?”

Silence.

You went beet red. “I—excuse me?!”

Nanami sat up straight. “Toji.”

“What?” Toji said lazily. “Just wondering. She looks like it.”

“Don’t speak about her like that,” Nanami said coldly.

Toji smirked, amused. “It’s a question. She doesn’t have to answer.”

You opened and closed your mouth, utterly flustered.

Gojo leaned in again, smile wide. “Don’t worry, we’re just teasing. Though if you are, I can offer classes.”

“Gojo,” Nanami snapped.

Geto laughed. “Do not let him teach. He has a PowerPoint presentation and everything.”

“I’m gonna go hide in the bathroom,” you muttered, hiding behind a throw pillow.

“Wait, wait!” Gojo grinned. “One more—what do you think about us? Like, first impressions.”

You peeked out. “Honestly?”

All four leaned in.

You pointed. “Gojo—annoying but fun. Geto—too smooth, too dangerous. Nanami—terrifying but secretly sweet.”

“And me?” Toji asked, eyes sharp.

You paused. “You scare me.”

A long silence followed.

Toji leaned back slowly, lips twitching. “Good.”

Gojo clapped his hands again, eyes sparkling. “Okay, round two! This time we’re diving deeper.”

You squirmed slightly on the couch, still feeling the heat of Toji’s question from before burning your cheeks. Nanami sat stiffly beside you on the edge of the couch, arms crossed, jaw set like he was doing everything in his power not to explode.

Gojo pointed at you like a game show host. “If you had to marry one of us, who would it be?”

Your eyes widened. “What?!”

“C’mon, c’mon,” Gojo leaned in. “It’s a harmless game!”

“Harmless?” Nanami scoffed under his breath.

You looked around helplessly. Toji looked smug, Geto had a glint in his eye, and Gojo was practically vibrating.

“I—I don’t know you guys!” you stammered.

“Just on vibes,” Geto said smoothly, sipping his coffee.

“Don’t pressure her,” Nanami warned, voice low and firm.

“It’s a fun game,” Gojo said, hands up in mock surrender. “Besides, I’m clearly the best option.”

“Debatable,” Geto muttered.

Toji leaned forward suddenly, resting his arms on his knees, staring straight at you. “You looked the most scared of me. But scared can be good.”

You blinked. “W-what?”

He smirked, eyes narrowing slightly. “Sometimes fear keeps you alert. Keeps you obedient.”

“Enough,” Nanami cut in sharply, standing.

Toji didn’t move, didn’t even blink.

Nanami turned to you, his tone gentle now. “You don’t need to sit through this.”

You looked up at him, torn, but also not wanting to make it awkward. “I-it’s okay. I’m fine.”

“No, she’s fine,” Gojo chirped, draping himself across the arm of the couch. “Let’s keep going! Okay, next one—if you were stuck in a closet with one of us for seven minutes—”

Nanami exhaled hard. “I’m done.”

You flinched a little as he walked toward his room.

“Wait, Nanami,” you started, standing halfway.

“I’ll be in my room,” he said without looking back.

And with that, his door shut with a soft but firm click.

You stood awkwardly, heart thudding.

“Buzzkill,” Gojo sighed dramatically. “But not unexpected.”

You gave a weak laugh, shifting uncomfortably under their attention.

Gojo grinned at you. “Okay, serious one—how old were you when you learned what sex was?”

Your mouth opened in horror. “Wha—?!”

“Or,” Toji said, low and casual, “have you ever touched yourself?”

“Stop!” you said quickly, cheeks flaming.

Geto chuckled. “They’re monsters, I won’t lie.”

“I—this is too much,” you said, voice cracking slightly.

Toji looked at you, face unreadable now.

Gojo leaned back, hands up. “Okay, okay. We’ll stop. You win.”

Geto nodded. “Game over.”

Silence fell heavy and awkward for a moment. You sank back onto the couch, overwhelmed.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered quietly.

Toji scoffed. “Don’t apologize. If you can’t handle it, just say so.”

Gojo suddenly leaned over, nudging your shoulder. “But if you ever do want to play that closet game, let me know.”

“Toji would punch you,” Geto muttered.

“Worth it,” Gojo smirked.

You buried your face in the couch cushion and groaned hoping if this torture would end soon.

to be continued in the next chapter

.

[anotheraccountonthisapp]

THIS THIS THIS

what I adore about TMA is everyone is a realistically flawed character. And you can kinda understand why they'd act that way. You may like to believe that you'd actually like your fav character or be reasonable and just and whatever but in reality? Maybe you'd lash out and get aggressive? Maybe you'd go quiet and isolate? Maybe you'd try to take control over the situation? Maybe you'd try and distance yourself or blame someone else to help you try and cope? Maybe you'd completely give up and become apathetic? Maybe you'd decide you couldn't do this anymore and try to kys or kill Elias despite the fact that it'd kill not just you but everyone else? Perhaps you'd accept what's going on and just continue to be a cog in the machine? These are all very realistic ways people respond to stressful situations which seem impossible to escape from. Frankly "I'd just be calm and not lash out and work as a team and I'd just do the right things all the time" is extremely unlikely.

I also like, linking back to that point, how there's no "right action" least not one that is obvious and clear. Listening along I had myself agreeing with certain decisions or disagreeing and thinking that was the best choice and then finding out my option would have led to extreme negative consequences that I couldn't predict. It's similar to the whole "it's foolish to assume a character knows what genre they're in" in one genre one action would be the obvious correct option and in another? That action is stupid and foolish and guarantees death.

And I agree it completely strips Jon of any of his actions and unhealthy coping mechanisms. He stalked his employee's and one of his friends' house, he went down a self destruction avenue (which yes was intensified by feeling alienated and like a monster but that's not the only reason), he was feeding on people's traumas and making them relive them every night even if that's not something he can fully control that doesn't absolve him of his actions.

All the characters in TMA are realistically flawed and they all have reasons for their actions. They all believe them right. TMA is a microcosm (I'm so gonna ace this exam today) which helps to represent and reflect back humanity and how we process and respond to things differently. They aren't evil, they're just human. And humans are messy.

Okay sorry for the semi-related tangent I just very much agree with this and I tired :p but yeah I definitely agree! Also just bcs someone does something bad to you it doesn't then dismiss all your previous bad actions. That's not how it works. Both characters can have done bad things for valid or realistic reasons. These characters are fleshed out and they have depth. I mean don't get me wrong, I love the fandom memes and fanification of the characters, long as I know that ppl understand how in canon they vary from the 2D character. okay I need to actually shut up now-

Here’s the thing, I absolutely agree with the fact that the way Jon was treated in S4 was awful, dehumanising and often cruel. It impacted how he viewed himself in harmful and permanently damaging ways that then bleed into every choice he makes after, because his self-worth is never going to recover from that.

However, if you end this point with ‘and he was treated like this for no-reason at all’, I am going to have to sit you down and have a long talk about nuance, and how every character in TMA has a reason for what they’re doing, even if it’s not right. Engage with the material at hand. I am begging you.

And Jon being a victim, particularly in S4, does not absolve him of the consequences and harm his own actions have done. There’s a very twisted irony to me in the fact that the harm Jon does to feel a sense of control — a common C-PTSD response — is often stripped of that agency and nuance. Please, the Web does that to him enough.

The above also applies to pretty much most TMA characters, especially the S4 Archive Crew. It goes without saying that yes, Basira is a hypocrite, that Melanie clings onto Jon as a scapegoat before she takes steps to improve herself etc. All these characters have been hurt in some way, and they are reverting back to what gives them a sense of safety, even if it means hurting others people or each other. It’s not good, but you can, at the very least, understand why it is they’re acting this way.

I think it’s easier to understand S4 when you go in with the mindset of ‘these people are all victims, and they are not perfect ones’, rather than the mindset of it’s Jon Vs Everyone, even if it feels that way at times.

[sebmindbreak]

HIIIII- I hope you are doing fine!! :3

Can I request some 007n7 (before C00lkid) x admin!reader? Like maybe 7n7 is flirting with reader in the middle of a fight or chase they are having?

I really love the way you write btw X)

HIHII!!

YESSSS

ALSO TYTYTY <3

you didnt precise if you wanted a oneshot or headcanosn , so i did a bit of both!

TITLE : server "boosting"

HEADCANONS

so first of all :

-He absolutely lives to mess with you. The fact that you're an admin just makes it ten times more fun for him.

-bro REALLY doesnt give a shit you are an admin , it's just funnier for him.

-During fights, he never shuts up. Every move comes with a sarcastic quip, or worse some infuriating flirtatious comment.

"You're really cute when you're angry."

-Even while you're trying to restrain him, he’ll purposely glitch around you just to get close and whisper nonsense like, "Caught me yet, officer?"

-If you ever manage to get the upper hand, he’ll pretend to pout"Oof, you caught me Is this where I say sorry? Or... beg?"

-His favorite pastime is exploiting systems just to get your attention. It’s not even about the game anymore , it’s about watching your reaction.

-Secretly gets flustered if you ever flirt back. He’ll try to glitch away to hide it but ends up stuttering.

-If someone else tries to punish or confront him? He’s smug. If you do it? He’s all grins and leaning in too close. "Damn.someone knows how to handle."

-Definitely wrote a script once just to auto-send you annoying heart emojis every time you log in.

LIL ONESHOT! <3

You skid to a stop in the middle of the cracked pavement, the smell of burnt cheese and smoke. The crumbling neon sign above the pizzeria flickers, a sad echo of what used to be a happy little corner of the map. Elliot’s panicked call still rings in your ears:

“HE’S DOING IT AGAIN!! HE BROKE THE DISPENSERS THIS TIME—!”

And of course, there he is. 007n7. That smug piece of shit, standing not far ahead, arms lazily thrown behind his head as if he didn't just break the game’s economy five seconds ago.

He notices you. And immediately grins.

“Wow. They really sent you to deal with me?” His tone drips with mock surprise. “Did I finally get important enough to have the actual admin chasing me?”

He doesn’t run yet. He just leans against the side of a pizza cart tipped over by his earlier code storms, watching you approach. Eyes narrowed. Smile smug.

“Oh come on,” he drawls, spinning his CoolGUI around his finger like a toy. “You look way too serious. Loosen up. You could be on a date with me right now, but nooo, you’re choosing to play security guard.”

You lunge forward — and that’s when he jumps.

“Woop!” he laughs, narrowly dodging, flipping over the pizza cart and landing in a crouch before sprinting down the empty road. “You’re fast. Kinda hot, actually!”

You keep chasing, determined. He glances back, cocky grin never leaving his face.

“So what’s the punishment gonna be, huh?” he taunts. “Gonna throw me in admin jail? Put me in timeout? Oh, I’m terrified~.”

He stops again just at the crosswalk, tilting his head.

“But between you and me?” He gestures with two fingers, making a heart in the air. “I know what kind of punishment i can think of~.”

Then he winks and takes off running again.

“You’re adorable when you're mad!” he shouts over his shoulder. “Catch me if you can, Admin~!”

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED!

also theres a small REF to something in there <3

[kjhbsies]

hey, here i am cause 500 celebration! (btw, congrats)

sooo, im gonna request James Potter with the prompt "'how do i look?', 'slightly stunned', 'no, i mean, how do i look?', '...beautiful'."

and maybe with London (because london boy) but i think it fits more with Paris 🤔

hope ur okay! 🩷

Elevated Feelings

navigation | main masterlist | rules

join my 500 celebration!

James Potter x reader

synopsis: She was dressed for a date. He was dressed to ruin it— again. But getting stuck in an elevator with the one guy she can’t stand (and maybe kinda likes) wasn’t part of the plan. Turns out, the only thing falling faster than the elevator… was her.

wordcount: 2, 128

note: Prompt: “How do I look?” “Slightly stunned.” “No, I mean, how do I look?” “…Beautiful.” + London: trapped in an elevator. Thank you for the request, and I'm doing great right now. thank you for asking ^^. I was actually giggling and kicking my feet while writing this UGH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH. Modern James again. REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Yours and James's relationship is... complex. You two lived in the same apartment complex. He lives in the penthouse, just above your floor, and you two always run after each other from being in the same building. You know James. Everyone knew James. He was the friendliest and most talkative guy in here. Everyone likes him. Hell, even the janitors were fond of the guy. Especially Eric. But you weren't.

You hated his guts.

You two go to the same university. And though both of your college buildings are different, he still managed to infiltrate your whole being. He'd often greet you in corridors, wink at you when you two see each other, and even worse, annoy you every chance he gets.

To you, he's just a typical rich guy who gets everything he wants. A luxurious car, expensive watches, and a lifestyle that anyone would die to have. And even though he’s got so many resources and so many things that he should be doing, he always finds the time to annoy you. It’s like his lifeline. Like he couldn’t live without making you mad.

Not to mention that he always has a knack for wrecking your dates. You don't know he does it, but every time you go out with someone else, it doesn’t end well. And James Potter was always in the scene of the crime.

You would be lying if you said you didn't find him attractive. The truth was, he is very handsome and charismatic. You just had to… contain yourself because, knowing James, he wouldn't shut up if you knew about your little crush you had with him. So, in order to properly hide it, you were going out on a date. Again. You said to yourself that this was going to be the last attempt in your dating life. And if it won't go well, then you might just go check in yourself at the nearest mental asylum.

Looking like an absolute perfection yourself, you smiled at the mirror while staring at your reflection. With one last whiff of your perfume at your wrist, you walked out of your apartment with confidence and started going to the elevator.

And the last thing you needed on your third, and final attempt at a love life was to be stuck in a small metal box with the man whose face you wanted to slap in equal measure.

James Fleamont Potter.

You swore you could smell the smugness on him the moment the elevator doors slid open and revealed his perfectly disheveled hair, a shirt that was neatly ironed, and the world's most punchable smirk. You, meanwhile, had just spent the last hour curling your hair, doing your makeup to a near level delusion, and picking out the best outfit in your closet.

And, of course, he had to see you now.

"The private elevator broke down," James said once you stepped in.

You raised a brow. "Tragic."

"That's why I'm here." He said, tapping the elevator button repeatedly even though you were already here and the thing was already moving. "Taking the main elevator. Like a common folk."

You nodded, expression blank. "Such a man of the people."

"I don't want you to think that I'm stalking you or anything."

"Oh, I didn't," You said cooly. "Until you said that."

His face twitched like he was going to explain himself, but he decided against it. Instead, he put his hands in his pockets and kept sneaking glances at you out of the corners of his eye.

"You... uh, going on a date?"

You gave him the slowest, most soul-draining side eye known to mankind. "What gave it away? The dress? The perfume? The fact that I'm wearing heels and haven't been verbally assaulting someone in the last five minutes?"

James smiled at you. "I think you look gorgeous."

Your mouth hung open for a few seconds. Your heart skipped a goddamn beat.

You bit the inside of your cheek and looked away so fast. James noticed. Of course he did. Because your entire existence was his personal reality show, and he never missed a damn episode.

He shifted closer.

"Don't try to ruin this one out, James. I won't forgive you this time."

His hands flew in mock surrender. "Me? Crashed your dates? Since when?"

You gave him a look.

"That was all coincidental!" He argued.

"Oh, really? Coincidental that the guy I went to dinner with vanished into thin air, and you just so happened to show up and take me out instead?"

"He had a weak bladder and probably locked himself in the restroom. I just don't want you to go home on an empty stomach after he bailed. I was just being polite."

"Right. And what about the movie date with the guy I met on the internet? You brought your three obnoxiously loud friends and sat next to us."

James had the audacity to look offended. "He was being creepy! He kept putting his arm around you like he was claiming territory. I was just looking out for you."

"You're stalking me, admit it!" You rolled your eyes.

"You're pushing it, woman." He muttered.

Blush was creeping up his cheeks now, betraying the confident act he had been displaying. You didn't have the chance to respond— because the elevator suddenly let out a loud creeaakkk that sounded suspiciously like it was holding for its last breath.

Then, the lights flickered.

And one tragic thunk made you realize that the elevator suddenly malfunctioned.

"Oh, for f—" You started.

"We're stuck," James said brightly, almost... relieved?

You pressed every single button in there like a madwoman while James just stood there, watching you with a grin that made you consider murder.

"No, yeah, it's fine. Third time's a charm, right? Nothing says finding a potential love in here while getting stuck in a metal box with a human version of a migraine."

James laughed. LAUGHED. "Come on, don't be so dramatic. It's not that bad."

"Not bad?!" You faced him, absolutely fuming. "I'm stuck in an elevator with you. There's no air. There's no escape. And— AND— you're wearing a cologne."

"It's Tom Ford," He said proudly. "Do you like it?"

"I like silence."

You backed yourself into the corner farthest from him, trying not to breathe too deeply because his scent was filling your nose, and you thought it just made your brain short-circuit. James leaned against the wall, arms crossed, with a stupid smirk intact.

"So... what are you still doing after this?"

"Throw myself out of this building."

He chuckled lowly. "You're so cute when you're mad."

"I'm cute always, thank you very much." You crossed your arms. "And don't flirt with me. It won't work."

"It won't?" He challenged you.

You threw your head back dramatically, wiping the sweat from your forehead. "I swear to God, if we die in here, I'm haunting you."

"Is that a promise?" He winked.

You were going to scream. Or kiss him. Possibly both.

You groaned once again, feeling irritated as the humidity started kicking in. "I have a date! A date! Why does the universe have a knack for punishing me in times like these? Does it not know that this is very important for me!" You tried pushing the emergency button repeatedly, but it didn't work.

James tried to bite back a grin. "Oh, yeah? Well, maybe it's the universe's way of telling you that he's not the one."

You turned to glare at him. "You've been so noticeably happy for this, James. Do you not understand that I have a date?!"

"Oh, yeah, sure. Blame me for the architectural failings of this building," He threw his hands up. "I was just existing, woman."

"Exactly!" You groaned, trying to fan yourself. "I should've known this would happen the moment I saw your face. You're like a romantic curse on my romantic life."

James gasped, dramatically putting a hand on his chest. "What's with these baseless accusations thrown at me?"

"Baseless—? Every time I'm on a date, there you are. Hovering. Lurking. Annoying. Like a cockroach that drives a Porsche."

"That's rich coming from a girl who always scowls the moment she sees me!"

You ignored him, mainly because he had a point.

"I'm just saying," You ranted, gesturing vaguely around the two of you. "This— this is all your fault."

James turned to you, eyes ablaze. "Well, maybe, it's fate telling you not to go out with guys who won't treat you better than I can!"

Dead silence.

The words hit the two of you.

Your jaw dropped. His eyes widened. Both of you looked at each other like someone had dropped a pop quiz on Sunday.

"...What?" You whispered.

James cleared his throat, suddenly very interested in the floor. "You heard me."

You blinked at him.

James Potter. Rich boy. University's menace. Full-time flirt, part-time hearthrob— likes... you?

You sat down first, because your knees felt jelly. James followed, legs outstretched, pretending he wasn't panicking internally. Inches apart on the cold metal floor, the silence buzzed like the fluorescent light above.

You both spoke at the same time.

"You should go—"

"No, you should—"

James sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I meant what I said. I like you, Y/n. Wasn't I being obvious even before?"

"I thought you were just being annoying." You muttered.

He laughed. A low, warm sound that sent your heart beating too fast. "Yeah, that too. But have you seen your face when you're mad? It's kind of my favorite."

You glared at him again.

"There it is!" He beamed. "Gorgeous."

You tried not to smile. Really. You did. But he was grinning like a dog who just got his favorite treat, and somehow— somehow it was charming.

"Were you always this..."

"Captivating?" He said with a wink.

You scoffed. "Infuriating."

James chuckled, that same laugh that made your legs weak. He started scooting closer, closing the gap between you two. And now, both of you were shoulder to shoulder. You tried not to notice how warm he was, how good he smelled, or how his eyes flicked to your lips every now and then.

"Ditch him." He said suddenly.

"Hm?" You turned to look him in the eye.

He reached for your hand and intertwined your fingers with his. "Ditch him and go out with me."

You squeezed his hand, lifting a brow. "What makes you think I want to go out with you?"

He grinned, cocky as hell. "A little birdie told me you have a crush on me."

"I do not—!" You slapped his chest, and his fake gasp only made you laugh.

"Oh, really?" He challenged you, grabbing your waist and pulling you onto his lap. "Because Eric told me you've been looking at me with those eyes."

"What eyes?" You asked, placing a steady hand on his shoulder.

"The 'I'm so in love with this guy I'm gonna scream' eyes."

"Oh, my god. You're so conceited!"

"Just being honest, love." He asked, his hand on your chin now to lift your face. "So... was he right?"

You opened your mouth to argue— but then sighed. "Yeah."

His grin widened. And before you could blink, he dipped his head down and kissed you. Slow, sweet, like he'd been waiting for it for forever. Then it turned desperate. Your hands were now tangled in his curls. His arms were locked around your waist, pulling you impossibly close. You felt yourself melt against him, completely forgetting the fact that you two were in a broken elevator.

That is, until it dinged open.

"Ahem."

You froze.

James froze.

You both turned your heads and saw Eric— the janitor— standing there with a mop, eyes wide, and absolutely mortified.

"I was, uh... checking if it worked now." He said awkwardly.

You scrambled off James's lap immediately, adjusting your dress and fixing your hair.

James stood, casual as ever, and pressed the button to his penthouse. "It's working now. Thanks, Eric."

Eric just nodded and walked away slowly, clearly rethinking his life choices.

Once the doors closed again, you exhaled sharply. “God, that was so embarrassing.”

James was grinning again. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever done.”

You glared at him. “You’re shameless.”

“You love it.”

You rolled your eyes, fixing your hair in the elevator’s mirror. “So… how do I look?”

“Slightly stunned.”

“No,” You said, gesturing to yourself. “How do I look?”

James softened. “...Beautiful.” His voice dropped low, devoted. Then he leaned in and kissed you again, stealing your breath like a thief who had every intention of giving it back.

Somewhere above, the penthouse dinged.

But for once, James Potter wasn’t in a hurry to get there.

©kjhbsies

[kinardsboy]

Kinda rambling here and apologies in advance because a majority of my blog is rants but I kinda just need to get these feelings out about how… terrible eddie is as a friend .. this is gonna be a long ass post lol

Eddie is, at his core a very opportunistic person.

Now, I think I should preface this with saying that this alone does not make him a bad person, and I would even argue in his defense that it is likely a trauma response/survival mode from being a dad at such a young age, and losing army pals and Shanon. However, that is not an excuse for the way he treats people.

Let’s start with the biggest example: Buck. Buck does, frankly almost everything for Eddie. He babysits without complaining, cooks for Eddie, does Eddies chores (when Eddie seemingly has fuck all to do versus buck who just worked a full shift), rents eddies house for him so he can go to texas, and then leaves without complaint when Eddie wants to come back.

Looking at the babysitting aspect closer, we can see that Eddie uses Chris as a bandaid for Buck’s problems because, its the easiest solution. Chris is a child and Buck cant be too sad around him otherwise he’ll likely worry Chris. So when Buck got his leg critically injured and was unable to work, did Eddie come over and show concern for his friend? Or did he throw his son at the problem (and get free babysitting on top of that) all while boasting about fixing the “problem”?

Then, when Buck was (imo rightfully) suing the department for his job back, did Eddie show concern for his friend? Try to understand it from his perspective? No. Instead Eddie insulted Buck for not being able to deal with shit like everyone else and called him exhausting. Then, SPECIFICALLY called out the fact that Buck wasnt able to do anything for him. 1. Not being able to bail him out of jail and 2. Not being able to see Chris.

The next issue I take with Eddie and Buck’s relationship is that Eddie seems to think he’s the only one allowed to have emotions. Especially because he stuffs most of them down all the time, so when he finally takes his head out of his ass and lets himself show something it feels like he expects the world to stop in amazing and praise him for it.

So when Buck is going through something at the same time as him, lawsuit and bobbys death arcs, Eddie gets frustrated very easily. Now, Eddies anger is something I have mixed feelings about and is not going to be the main topic of this segment. But, in both instances we see Eddie being VERY easily frustrated at Buck and our most recent example we had Eddie grab Buck, make him flinch and get in his face like he was going to hit him. Then, similarly to the lawsuit arc he uses Chris as a bandaid to fix everything. While AGAIN, making Buck do more emotional labor to keep Chris comforted and happy while BUCK IS GOING THROUGH HIS OWN TURMOIL JUST LIKE THE CRUSHED LEG ARC. Not to mention he also puts his friend duties onto chris to fix his mistakes and comfort buck..

I dont want to discuss the entire buckeddie stuff in 8.17 because honestly? It was really triggering and manipulative and people have already done much more deep analysis on it than what i have just said- so..

All this to say, Eddie and Buck have what is in my opinion an unbalanced and toxic friendship.

Eddie’s relationship with the rest of the 118 is honestly, hardly shown. However I think thats another point to my side, that Eddie is friends with them because its convenient and easy. He works with these people every day and naturally builds a bond with them due to the risky nature of their job.

This isnt to say Eddie hasnt done anything for Buck or the 118, but with Buck especially, its very unbalanced.

Two former 118 members were also see this issue with is Tommy and Lena,

Starting with Tommy: Tommy was a great friend for Eddie because he provided him with a lot of things. Fun (no doubt expensive for Tommy) excursions to Vegas, a basketball buddy(heh), i think he even babysat chris once(?), and someone to spar with. Now, theres nothing wrong with sharing hobbies in a friendship but the SECOND things got inconvenient and tough for Eddie to be friends with him, he decided it wasnt worth the effort and dropped him immediately.

This, in my opinion was not in solidarity to Buck, because Buck never spoke ill of Tommy or asked Eddie to unfriend him, Buck even seemed shocked that Tommy mentioned Eddie giving him the cold shoulder. It was because Eddie didnt want to put in the effort to something that was going to be awkward.

Next we have Lena, perhaps the only one to ever call Eddie out on his bullshit. Eddie took and took from her, vented to her and then when she tried to get something back from the relationship it.. well failed miserably, and she rightfully called their friendship a one way street.

We truly lost her too soon 😞 (real quick side tangent but i take huge issue with people whatabouting her in regards to Eddies fight club arc.. Lena had her shit under control PLUS, EDDIE IS A GROWN MAN WHEN ARE WE GONNA STOP BLAMING WOMEN FOR MENS OWN CHOICES DONT PISS ME OFF).

So yeah this rant was basically a very long way of saying Eddie fucking sucks a friend and needs to seriously work through some shit before I will consider him to be like able. ESPECIALLY after 8.17.

[hy6erion]

Could I possibly request a Viktor with fem or gn reader where the reader is just hopelessly pinning? Like in the I don't dare get closer or say anything just stare so much and practically melt in your gaze that it's quite obvious kinda way? And maybe how Viktor would react to such? If it's okay and interests you at all

(I'm head over heels for both your writing and him 💗💖💕)

All the quiet Things — Viktor

synopsis: you’ve always admired Viktor from afar—quietly, constantly, helplessly. you thought you were doing a good job of hiding it. you weren’t.

cw: gn! Reader

You tell yourself it’s just admiration.

That’s what it started as. It had to start as admiration. The way he walks into a room—not with arrogance, but with purpose. The way his mind spills brilliance even in passing remarks, in sketches left behind on napkins or blackboard corners. The way his accent wraps around syllables like he’s crafting something delicate, even when he’s muttering under his breath at something that won’t work.

You admire him. That’s all.

That’s all it was supposed to be.

But somewhere between borrowed textbooks, late nights in the lab, and watching the way the lamp light limned his cheekbones while he scribbled diagrams, admiration turned into something else. Something tender. Something impossible.

Something foolish.

It’s not love, you tell yourself. Not really. Because love is mutual, and you’ve never even spoken to him beyond “Good morning,” or “Do you need the third oscillator?” You haven’t dared to get closer, not when being near him sets off something too warm in your chest, something too vast to be safe.

And besides—he’s Viktor. Brilliant, preoccupied Viktor. He probably doesn’t even know your name.

But that doesn’t stop you from looking.

From watching him across the lab with a helpless sort of reverence, like he’s the sun and you’re just a dust mote caught in his light. Every glance in his direction feels like treason—like you’re indulging in something you shouldn’t. And yet, you can’t stop. Can’t help the way your eyes find him, over and over, unbidden.

It’s pathetic.

You melt when he speaks. You practically forget how to think when he smiles—rare, fleeting things, but you hoard them like relics in your memory. There was one time—one time—when you’d said something in passing and he laughed, sharp and sudden and so warm it had felt like the world tipped on its axis.

You remember the exact cadence of it. You could probably recreate the waveform if someone asked.

And maybe—maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much if it didn’t feel obvious. Because it is. You can feel how obvious you are, the way your gaze lingers too long, how you stammer a little when he gets too close. The way your breath hitches when he looks at you directly, even if it’s only to ask you to pass him a spanner.

You hope he doesn’t notice. You pray he never does.

And you dread the day he might.

Viktor is not blind.

He is, however, busy. Very busy.

Between Hextech advancements, Council meetings, and the minor nuisance of his deteriorating health, he doesn’t have much time for social intricacies. Doesn’t usually want to make time.

But you are… distracting.

Not in the way others might be. Not loud. Not flirtatious. In fact, you barely speak to him. Always polite. Always helpful. A presence more than a person, half the time.

At first, he didn’t think anything of it. He noticed you, of course. He notices most things—though Jayce might argue otherwise—but you were just one of the junior researchers in the lab. Quiet. Efficient. Thorough in your work. An extra pair of hands when he needed something precise.

But lately…

Lately he’s been noticing more.

Like the way your eyes lift when he enters a room, instinctive and immediate. The way your attention seems to orbit him even when you’re not directly interacting with him. The way your breath catches—he hears it, even if you think it’s subtle—when he leans a little too close to correct something in your notes.

The way you look at him when you think he isn’t looking back.

At first he thought it was just curiosity. Admiration, maybe. He’s no stranger to that, though he doesn’t invite it. But admiration doesn’t usually come with such softness. Such aching stillness.

There’s something about your gaze that lingers.

It makes him pause. It makes him wonder.

One evening, the lab is quiet. The others have gone home. You’ve stayed behind to help clean up after another long test run—Viktor’s design worked, but only barely. He’s exhausted. You look it too, though you’re still carefully organizing spare parts and sorting instruments.

“Go home” he says, gently. “You’ve done enough.”

“I don’t mind” you murmur, not looking up.

But he watches you, this time. Really watches you. The way your fingers tremble slightly when you tuck a tool into its drawer. The way you keep your back turned.

“Can I ask you something?” he says suddenly.

You freeze.

Your mind goes blank. Every possible scenario begins to spin at once. He knows. He’s going to ask why you stare. He’s going to confront you, and it will be awful.

“…Of course,” you manage, after a long pause. You turn, reluctantly, and meet his eyes.

He’s sitting, his cane resting against the worktable, his face calm but studying you.

“Why do you look at me like that?”

Your heart stops.

“I—I don’t know what you mean” you say quickly, lying badly.

His head tilts. “I think you do.”

You want the floor to open. Swallow you whole. Evaporate you into a mist of shame and mortification. But you can’t look away.

“Have I made you uncomfortable?” he asks suddenly, brow furrowing.

That makes you flinch. “No! No. Never. I just—” Your voice breaks.

He’s silent for a moment. Thinking.

“Is it my fault?” he asks, gentler now.

You shake your head, unable to breathe. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I just—I’m sorry. I know I stare. I don’t mean to. It’s not… It’s not your problem.”

He watches you a moment longer, then exhales quietly.

“I don’t mind” he says.

You blink.

“I had wondered” he continues, “whether you disliked me. You avoid me, sometimes. Or at least, avoid being near.”

“I avoid you because I—” You bite your lip, hard. The truth is right there, too large to swallow anymore.

Viktor is quiet. His expression unreadable. But he doesn’t look away.

And that, somehow, gives you just enough courage to whisper, “Because I like you. Too much. And I didn’t want to bother you with it.”

The silence stretches like a thread, taut and aching.

Finally, softly, Viktor says, “You are not a bother.”

You blink, heart hammering.

“I am not always… quick, with things like this,” he admits. “But I have noticed. And I have wondered.”

Your breath stutters. “You…?”

He offers the faintest smile. “You are rather obvious.”

Your cheeks burn.

“But not in a bad way,” he adds quickly. “It’s… flattering. Disarming, even. No one has looked at me quite like that before.”

“You make it hard not to,” you say before you can stop yourself.

He laughs, low and warm.

For a moment, it’s just the two of you. The quiet hum of the lab. The electric buzz of truths finally spoken. And Viktor, looking at you with something newly tender in his gaze.

“Would you stay a little longer?” he asks.

You nod. You would stay forever if he asked.

And so you sit beside him in the dim light of the lab, not touching, not needing to—yet something has shifted, undeniable and true. Not everything has to be spoken aloud. But some things, finally, can be seen.

And you let yourself be seen.

[returnofeternity]

grow a garden has also been my addiction lately:)) every time I play I always think of modern au teen!Lottie playing, that and I have an in-game pet deer so when I see them my mind just goes “LOTTIEEEE” automatically. I think she probably would have enjoyed playing cozy farming games, or just games with farming features in general (Minecraft, stardew valley and animal crossing I’m looking at you)

DUDE ME TOO. i just hit 2b coins 😎

the concept of dating lottie and being friends with her on roblox....having each other in the bio too. <3

she doesnt mess around on it. she only has roblox installed on her phone just so she can have it open when she cant be on the puter 😭 it's ur own PC you bought with your money too but she kicks you off because it's easier to play on it 😒

shes kind of like a mansplainer when she talks to you about it...😭 especially if you don't get it. tells you how to plant correctly and what the best seeds are because ur NOT doing it correctly ofc >_> but she's suchhh a good gf and gives you those frozen candy blossoms and a bunchhh of freebies so you can gain coins 😊 its so cute seeing her avatar jump toward you 💗 and she will constantly rejoin games until your farm is next to hers!!

and i know her farm is PERFECT. she has everything so organized and it doesn't even feel cluttered even though there's like hundreds of plants. she came crying to you when someone used their robux to steal one of her crops too 😭 was so butthurt and reported them and everything. you tried to give her one of your strawberries to make her feel better </3

kinda like a guard dog and tells off 'noobs' who wanna scam you by trading dog shit items lmfao.

she would LOVE to make a stardew farm with you omfg are you kidding???!!!! she spends ages planning out the name and what theme she wants to do!! she takes the farm life very seriously.

and i know charlotte matthews takes character customization seriously as well.

laughing just thinking about lottie telling you how much she hates cheaters in the game but you find out that she has mods installed to make the game easier 😭

lottie who likes to game next to you <33 always brings her computer to where you are and resumes gaming. she loves showing off her work to you and just likes you being near her while she's basically silent for hours just farming n shit. its ur bonding time <3 thinking of things like hugging her from behind on the bed while she builds your Minecraft house bc you suck at building ❤️ lottie who facetimes you while you're at work or in class because she needs your help deciding what to do or build next ❤️

she likes to leave little presents for you to find when you get on too!! she leaves flowers in your chests, spells out "i love you" using your favorite Minecraft blocks, gives you her extra diamonds, steals one of your sheep, leaves a sign on your door that says "gay."

think she's so the type to feel bad about abandoning her villagers 😭 it's been months since she's used her switch for anything other than Mario kart, and she wont even boot up animal crossing because she'll feel even worse for seeing them after neglecting them for so long lmfaooo.

thinking about lottie who has her own lil fashion business on roblox.... she makes her own clothes and shit!!!! she shows you her sketches for new ideas and it's so cute :( she's almost a robux millionaire

[timkontheunsure]

😃I'd love flashback to Blitz seeing Stolas' treatment of the staff on the full moons.

Think Mr Butler here is the key part. Bridging the gap between who the system raised Stolas to be, and who he was raised by.

Paimon is very influential, don't get me wrong. Mostly because what his didn't do. And tiny Stolas wants to do almost anything to make Father proud.

But he appears to only seeing the wean extremely infrequently. It'd makes anything Paimon does say when he sees Stolas have an outsized impact though.

Like rule that Stolas isn't ment to cry in public, because it bothers others people.

(Stolas making and then asking Blitz to leave; so he won't keep crying in front of him is alot).

(I know Stolas does cry alot in front of people during Sinsmas. But the guy's off his meds and grieving the bond with his daughter. I'm not sure I want see any part of untreated depression this a step falwards).

Or him internalsing the idea that 'all children love the circle'. So he to forced Via to see Fizzbot's show every time at loo loo land. Because that's the good dad thing to do.

But yer the bigger influence on him is the day to day is the teaching from Mr Butler. Showing Stolas how to act like a Goetia in Paimon's stead.

And helping with basic care of this kid, like with cleaning and dressing tasks.

This mirrors real life, with both the rich and royals employing minorities and the working class; as disposable interchangeably nannies, au pairs, and maids to raise their kids for them.

Mr Butler's care is impersonal; he shows no emotions over the small child in his charge name being forgotten.

We never see him shows any emotions.

Stolas isn't his kid in any way shape of form here. He's a job, which is kinda fair enough.

Or would be; if anyone else was looking after the emotional needs of this sprog.

Because no one is. Stolas was fed and clean; but he was neglected.

It's not Mr Butler's job to love this kid, he is the closest thing to a parental figure Stolas has. But he acts closer to the relationship you expect to have with a tutor. Not a dad.

Mr Butler is the only imp we see working for the palace who can mildly rebuke ickle Stolas.

And what we see Mr Butler teaching Stolas are things to make his job easier. Not real social rules.

Unless someone is gonna try and claim Paimon and Stella are models of restraint.

It gets the kid to calm down and be quiet.

But lack of affection, attention and care damage kids' brain development. Specifically it damages empathy.

Especially with development empathy to out groups (the 'them' not the 'us'). Kids need to mirror other peoples emotions to learn and develop empathy for them. They need people not being fake around them, to learn that that's another person with their own thoughts and feelings...

Ok, so the easiest example for most people is server/retail work. The people who act the worse just don't see you as really human.

Most of these jobs require you to never tell them no; shut up, and smile no matter what gets said to you.

These requirements makes you moving, breathing furniture.

It's the people who have never worked retail, and don't even have family who have ever worked these jobs; who treat you the worst.

When little kids don't ever interact with people, from a different socal class, outside the fake service worker act; they outgroup all of them as 'not really people'. Because they don't get any emotions mirroring.

And let's be clear that's why it's why it's requirement of the job.

Mr Butler or Impington would have been sacked for really talking back to little Stolas, or tiny Via.

(I'm having to use fan names to distinguish between these two. Because they don't get names in the show for a reason).

It's why these imps have to take all that treatment silently, to make sure the next generation of little goeitas don't bond with the maid or nanny.

That the system that's gets perpetuated in the background, being passed down with nary a thought.

The only people Stolas gets any emotions response from are other goeitas, and Blitz. And it's normally a negative responses from other goeitas.

Kids prioritize of positive emotional response first, then negative, and last no emotional/neutral attention last.

This is why he latches on to Blitz hard.

And it's also why later he has no emotional response to Stella hurting Impington, or does so himself later. Treating the guy like a stress toy.

They're also a ton on education psyc research on how to reduce racism in children. (Lot of this went into the making of Sesame Street. I love Sesame Street, it's brilliant for children's development 😃).

And the best way reduce racism to get kids to put themselves in the headspace of other kids, from as many groups of people as possible. Easiest way to do that as playing with kids from as many different backgrounds as possible. (Yer it's not rocket science, or a secret why the rich want to keep their kids away from mixed playgroups and state schools).

But there's also a risk of them only playing with one kid from a certain background; that one kid becomes the exception to the racist rules.

Instead of them taking the knowledge and generalizing it, (Like 'Blitz is brilliant and amazing', doesn't become 'hey, I bet most imps are just as amazing as Blitz').

Stolas ended up putting his one imp 'friend' on a pedestal. While still looking down on him for his race and class status.

Making Blitz 'one of the good ones' 🙄.

And Moxxie and Millie the 'litter ones', that are treated one as step up from the butlers, that he was used to having at his beck and call.

No please, no 'thanks you for saving my life'. And never calling them by name.

I agree that Stolas was probably the best of the Goetias we've seen to work for; when Stella was out of the house.

But he didn't make these people's jobs easy.

Like at allllllll.

Because he was 'raised' by people who: were not allowed to tell him no, ask for basic respect, or drop the fake customer service face.

For a given value of raised, because basically no one raised Stolas. Emotional negligence is a type child abuse.

Stolas is showing small signs of improvement now he's in the real world. 🙂

Where people aren't paid to just shut up at take his crap. He's leaning quick that others do have thoughts and feelings about what he does.

And this is the first time we have seen Stolas say thank you to any imp, except Blitz. (Good boy Stolas).

Wee Stolas was a very sweet kid. I really like how we can connect the dots of why he acts that way towards people, that were more involved in his care than anyone else.

Showing how this system is designed to pump out royal who don't give a crap about imps or hellhounds.

It's just dumb luck the Paimon didn't want to have to deal with him on his birthday; giving Stolas at least a glimpse that life's more fun when other people get to have an opinions.

It's also dumb luck Stolas didn't get nice treatment from alot of Goetias. Because then he might have been more explicitly cruel, to impress people like Stella and Andrealphus.

Instead mostly unthinking privage, and not seeing how he made things much harder for the staff day to day because of his actions. And there inability to push back without lossing their jobs.

also hehe🤭 turn about making him IMP'S the secretary is a brilliant way to get Stolas to understand his past treatment better. 🙂

What was Stolas' relationship like towards the servant imps when Stolas was growing up as a child?

So we know that Stolas' current relationship with his imp servants isn't really positive, Stolas isn't doing it on purpose but the fact he's nearly squeezing the poor imp to death would imply that this sort of thing is learned behaviour, which would track as Paimon quite literally beat the racism/classism into Stolas. On the full moon episode it's kinda implied that Stolas doesn't treat his servant imps too well as much as Stolas tries to be respectful to them, we can see this in the fact that when Stolas hides in the fridge, the servant imp just looks fed up with everything, and Blitz's specific comment saying 'treat me like one of your butler imps', could possibly imply that Blitz has seen Stolas unintentionally treating his servant imps badly, not as badly as s2 e2 obviously but it wouldn't suprise me if Blitz actually did note some mistreatment of the servant imps, because that rant Blitz had in the full moon was, while quite exaggerated, based on some level of truth in Blitz's perspective.

Again, we know that Paimon quite literally beat the racism/classism into Stolas at a very young age, and Stolas' mother is nowhere to be seen, and Paimon basically doesn't give a single fuck about his children, so it's safe to assume that Stolas was practically raised by imps, which creates this weird dynamic of imps being somewhat like your parental figures, but at the same time being told to look down on the people raising you, like you're better than them. Like what did Stolas think of the imps raising him, while Paimon reminded him that he's above them constantly, it's rather interesting and if we get another flashback of child Stolas I want it to be about exploring this dynamic because it could very much be on the table considering, again, Blitz specifically made that butler imps comment in the full moon episode.

[dewthegay4403]

”She’s just a kid” do I give a fuck?

no. People seem to be infantilizing 11 year olds way too much. Yes, they’re kinda stupid sometimes (most of the time) but they have common sense and understanding of emotions (coming from someone who was eleven that one time and now has an eleven year old in the house). Charlie is in that stage where she would enter puberty and begin to think more deeply into emotions and actions (and then discard them like 3 years later). Charlie knows what she’s doing. Charlie knows what Eclipse has been through. Charlie literally has guidance all around her, both through her powers and at just life, yet she doesn’t accept it. She has caused Eclipse problem after problem, pain after pain, stress after stress even after all he’s done for her (easing her into death, helping her after death, uhh I lowk forgot the rest I just know he eased a bunch of her pain and guided her a bunch). Now, what Eclipse said is NOT okay, like uhh that is still a child. But all Charlie had to do was apologize and very simply tell her feelings. Eclipse would have understood. But instead she blew up and made poor justification for her actions.

Do I like Charlie right now? No. Are her actions justified? No not really. Are Eclipses words justified? No. Does he deserve a wrench thrown into his plans at every turned corner? No. In summary fuck Charlie we need you rn and you’re just being a lil shit.

[himasgod]

Can I request Grim finding Yuu crying a little and she admits she had a pet back home and she's worried about whether or not anyone is taking good care of it?

GRIM AND READER

Where he finds you crying because you miss your pet

It was well past lights-out when Grim noticed you weren’t in bed.

He used to curl up at the foot of the bed while talking in his sleep.

At first, he thought maybe you were raiding the kitchen again. He even considered joining — you always snuck him snacks when the coast was clear.

But when he followed the light into the lounge and didn’t hear the clatter of pots or complaints about cafeteria food, something felt off.

He found you curled up on the old couch, back to the door, your shoulders trembling just slightly.

“Hey… what’re you doin’ sittin’ here like some kinda ghost?” Grim asked, padding over.

“You’re gonna catch a cold or somethin’ dumb like that.”

You wiped your eyes quickly and glanced over your shoulder. “Sorry,” you said, voice hoarse.

“Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Hmph. I wasn’t sleepin’ anyway,” Grim muttered, hopping up onto the couch beside you.

“The great Grim doesn’t need beauty rest! …But you do look awful right now. Your face’s all messed up.”

You let out a sad chuckle and shook your head. “Thanks.”

He stared at you for a second, ears twitching.

“You were cryin’, weren’t ya?”

You hesitated. “…Yeah. A little.”

Grim sat down with a thump, clearly not planning on leaving.

“What happened? If someone was mean to ya, just point me in their direction. I’ll set their homework on fire.”

You smiled again, weakly. “It’s not that. I was just… thinking about home.”

“Home?” Grim echoed, a little quieter now.

You nodded.

“I had a pet. A cat. Her name’s Mochi. I raised her since she was tiny. She used to sleep at the foot of my bed every night.”

You looked down at your hands.

“I didn’t get to say goodbye when I got pulled into this world. I don’t know if anyone’s taking care of her, or if she’s even okay.”

Grim was quiet for a beat. Then he snorted.

“Of course she’s okay. Probably got someone feedin’ her the good tuna. Sittin’ on your pillow like she owns the place.”

“I hope so,” you murmured, rubbing your sleeve across your eyes. “But she’s scared of people she doesn’t know. I just keep thinking… what if she’s waiting for me to come back?”

Grim frowned. he looked away, huffing through his nose.

“Look, I dunno nothin’ about your world. But I know you. And if that cat was yours, she’s gotta be tough. Bet she’s waitin’ for you just like you’re waitin’ for her.”

“…Thanks, Grim.”

He glanced at you, then grumbled under his breath.

“Don’t go gettin’ all sappy on me.”

Still, he nudged your side with his head before settling down next to you, curling up with his tail flicking over your arm.

“Besides,” he added, eyes already drooping,

“you’ve got me now. The Great Grim. Most fearsome, most loyal, most brave in all of Twisted Wonderland. I’ll keep ya company ‘til you can go home.”

You smiled, eyes stinging again — but this time it wasn’t all sadness.

“I wouldn’t want anyone else.”

“…Darn right you wouldn’t.”

[puckpocketed]

Van!! since the postseason is slowly approaching its own end i've been wanting to get more into hockey analysis as this is my first full season as a fan and i still have a lot to learn about the game itself. Idk where to start but i feel like out of my mutuals you know a good bit about that stuff so I was wondering if you have any resources you could point me to? books or youtubers etc

Mei rubberpuckies... <3 Can't say I've got every answer but here are some of the places I visit:

Probably the easiest way to start learning is to have the game in motion in front of you and have someone explain it, video content hits that perfectly!

This video covers player roles. Good way to start understanding how each role fits into a 5-person unit. Content meant for new hockey players or players who are young/transitioning into a new role, and no game footage but the colour coded diagrams and explanation was very useful to me!

This guy also makes content meant for hockey players and doesn't post much, but he covers broader tactical concepts (and uses woho clips, which is so cool!). His videos are very digestible!! Short, have diagrams and bullet point slides... just great introductions to stuff like d-zone coverage and forechecking concepts.

Steve Peters used to work with the Coyotes and now runs Inside the Coaches Room. You might've seen some short clips of his content floating around on twt, he breaks down clips from current/recently played games so they're very relevant!! He's doing playoffs content now. I like his hockey for beginners video a lot as a catch-all primer for NHL ice hockey (I have linked the playoffs edition, it's a very good watch)

Hockey Psychology does some scattered tactical breakdowns of games, most recently FLA @ TOR Game 7. Not a huge fan of their clickbait style video titles or thumbnails but hey, whatever gets them noticed!

Simon St-Laurent does video reviews on the big names amongst draft eligible players. He comes to his own conclusions about the players in isolation of the broader game so you kinda have to take that as you will... I think, like everyone who watches a sport for long enough, scouts and prospect writers have their very specific beliefs about how the game should be played and it shows in the way they evaluate players. I like St-Laurent because he has a coherent, consistent framework that he pulls from. Maybe we won't agree all the time, but at least I can kinda understand how he arrives at his opinions.

In the same vein, Elite Prospects run a channel and like to get various writers to make short scouting videos on players. With the multitude of voices your mileage may vary, but I've enjoyed their work!

Kyle MacLennan on twt/x posts short clips of recent games and tends to highlight one aspect that he noticed. I have this man on notifications I'll be honest!! Clips come with no voice over explanation but lots of annotations and freeze frames. His stuff is the most bite-sized, 1-2min clips of games with a short blurb - wish I could be as concise as him <3 his most recent thread highlights FLA's tight checking in Game 7.

Further reading is... idk I don't want to be that guy because I also just got here but it's frustrating how so much high quality content and hockey knowledge is locked behind paywalls. I believe in my heart all writers should be paid for their work. I also know there is an appetite for deeper hockey analysis out there that could grow the game if only they'd let it </3 MAN!!!

I spend real actual dollars on Jack Han's Hockey Tactics books, which he releases every year part way through the season after watching every NHL team play. There are pictures and explanations of how each team runs their system, and this year's edition has an end section with anecdotes from industry people which I loved digging through. You don't have to buy it but if you find that you're really interested in the analysis side of things it's an incredible resource!! He's also on twt/x where he comments on the game and occasionally does little video review, and runs a paid Substack with the occasional free article <- this one I can't afford but ouggghhh when I get more disposable income.......

Beyond general analysis, there are so many blogs and writers that do cover specific hockey teams I don't think I could name them all if I tried. If you go looking for that sorta thing there'll always be some nerd out there obsessively watching tape and writing about it (and sometimes it's Sheng Peng <3)

Love and light but this is getting really long and I don't want to overwhelm you. You aren't the first person to ask about resources and I've been meaning to do a roundup of publications/channels I like to dig through so thank you for dropping by and prompting me!!

[ya-boi-haru]

So one whole year, huh...

(Sappy, sentimental yap below cut)

I saw Sherbs and HeyHays tiktoks of their cosplays and was intrigued.

Honestly, I saw it for a bit, but was still in the DSMP phase. Then I saw Sherb cosplay their corrupt character, and as a whore for 'Face-Monster Turn' tropes I immediately started to binge season 1 of Fable.

It took a few months to get through it all, but I finally got up to date - from a rough guess, I believe before Ghae confessed is when I got up to speed.

I joined the discord and started to get into posting stuff to Tumblr, and it's now one of my favourite sites to "fandom-discuss" on!

I was (and still am) kinda shy and awkward and not always the best at talking/meeting with new people, i always feel like i never know what to do or say and constantly worry I come off as too much or weird, but I was still able to make a couple friends through Fable and I cherish them dearly and look forward to that chapter. I've also made friends via a "mutual status," and that's also amazing; recognising usernames across the platforms is like seeing someone you know while you're down-town, or seeing that one person you know at a party, its really nice and I love that this community is incredibly open, caring and supportive, I love talking with all of you, be it theories, headcanons or discussing crack-ships, it's fun to be in a fandom that's super accepting and chill and I love all of you for that.

Fable also pushed me in my "creative talents".

Currently, "Infinitesimal" is by far my most 'advanced'/fancy cmv that I've done and I'm so proud of it, and you bet I have a whole playlist of more songs to do (no, literally, I have a playlist of future cmv songs to keep track of them all). Crafting/sewing the costumes is always a time and a skill I'm hoping to learn more in the future.

Fable is my first media piece of media that taught me about QPR. And I love it. It really is another piece in the line of the domino effect that helped me learn things about myself and even get a little more comfortable with labels and, ultimately, my own feelings. I'm still navigating through them, but I really feel like Fable helped me open my eyes to new things, and with such a supportive community, I feel seen.

Speaking of being seen, I see myself in Rae a lot. I've never related (or, as some say: "kinned") to a character so much before. There were times when people were talking to Rae and I felt like they were talking to me. I hope that when I do my Rae cosplay (and next project - which will be about Rae) I can do it justice, as he's a very important character for me.

I think the content creators of Fable taught me some things, too. For cosplay, streaming, filming/directing, audio/foley editing, writing, freaking playlists!? They're all so insanely cool! Hearing them yap about their works is always so entrancing and my brain is full of little mental post-it notes of things they've done.

Fable SMP will always hold a place in my heart, and I can't thank every single one of you enough for everything.

I feel like I have more to say, but right now, from the top if my head, this is all I got.

Thank you again, everyone

I'll be seeing you around for the next adventures

-YBH <3

[thewardenisonthecase]

so imagine you wake up with the news that you've been made the boss of bioware and ea is going to let you do dragon age the way you want and never interfere with their bullshit. also you have low reality warping powers where you can rework past games to the point where they would always have had been the way you designed them. how would you write the qunari with this infinite power?

god, so many things. I think the first thing im doing is reworking the whole reeducation bit. Like, i do think it should be something very secretive and rigorous (and very personal) but i lowkey hate how its presented as basically brainwashing. Like, I think it could be interesting to have this thing where you know, if your faith in the qun is wavering you go there to get in touch again, but just. don't present it as semi brainwashing the way they do, i hate it so much.

i also really like @/ikarons & @/asharaks take on the whole saarebas thing (i can't find the post now bc tumblr is fucking with me but if i do find it i'll leave the link)

edit: i found the post, here

Also i reaaallllllyyyyy hate the whole. Qunari don't have relationships + the whole "breeding" program. Its just. It adds to how dehumanized the qunari feel with their writing. You can keep the idea that maybe qunari don't really. give much of a shit about having super defined relationships, so it kinda doesnt matter if two people are dating, or its just a one time thing, or if they're together forever. I think there can be a culture of matchmaking perhaps, its just that man, who the fuck approved of saying selective breeding program it makes me think of some really bad real life comparisons and i hate it. Maybe, qunari are just kinda like hey. don't be fucking around dude. keep it in your pants, something like that (not wait until marriage but like have the self discipline to only engage in sexual acts with someone important or smthg) (the thing about the qun is. there are many things i'd like to see reworked or that i'd change but theres a fine line in how much can you change and they're still recognizable as the qunari and 'oh just make your own thing')

i think mostly, we needed to get more of the 'lots of things the average thedosian knows about the qunari are falsehoods created and propagated by the chantry'. I can understand the Chantry seeing the Qun as a threat, but not in the sense of "the qunari will come and convert everyone" but as in. I could see the Qun being a nicer alternative for a lot of the poorer masses of Thedas because qunari do have this take care of each other attitude and also, since their society works on every role in vital attititude and we dont "waste resources", impoverished people could want to convert willingly because of the appeal of finally being somewhere where they're seen and are no longer suffering and have a sense of purpose and belonging.

And the Chantry would probably hate that, so what do you do? You begin inventing that the Qun is a vile ideology and that the Qunari are these big beasts who'll try to conquer our land and yaada yada. and then through talking and meeting qunari we learn that things are not as black and white. Because the whole qunari and spreading the qun thing is that. its handled in a really bad way, they're like this active, looming threat. I think like, it does make sense for the qunari to try and take land in the sense of well they live on an island, it makes sense to me that they'd try to branch out. but maybe in this attempt to branch out, even if peaceful, things went completely sideways and now everyone thinks the qunari want to do all these awful things when they really just want to have some footing in mainland thedas. like smthg that gets to me is that the qunari have made quite a few many attempts at having more of a presence in mainland thedas through diplomatic means however, smthg always ended up going wrong and blwoing up in their face and i think that's very interesting! like the idea that they are trying and they're not thing big threat, but the chantry is the one being hostile (much like in da2) and whats causing this war is that well, a group of people being hated for no reason other than being different is going to eventually cause them to fucking clap back.

i think also they could have gone on on how the role system in the qun is starting to actively hurt the qunari as a whole but thats another story and anyways i've rambled enough