#but yeah it sucks that this happened right when i was getting more art done then ever RIP

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Murder on the Mind

So, we begin the plan to make König our mate in this one. Little Octopus Reader is determined to win. I will say, significant progress is made in this fic! Also, I suck at writing action scenes, please forgive me. I need to figure out how to write them for the future.

Tws: killing a crab for food, violence,

Wordcount: 3.3K

Art from This Post

Rest of the Story Below the Cut

Murder on the Mind

The one thing you hadn’t planned for in your epic showdown with a spider crab to win over König’s heart was how incredibly obnoxious König could be about letting you go out on your own.

“Are you sure?” König hovered around you nervously, “I really think I should come with you.”

“Yeah, but then you wouldn’t let me do my thing,” you complained as you put your bag over your shoulder, “I just want to see if I can find some new treasures.”

“But you have all of these treasures!” König gestured to the shelves upon shelves of trinkets, “are they not enough?”

“They’re more than enough,” you assured him, “I just want some that I found. It’s not the same when they’re all yours.”

“But we share everything,” König insisted, “and it’s much safer if you stay by my side. Why won’t you let me come with you?”

“Because I don’t want you taking them from me!” you huffed.

“You know I wouldn’t do that.”

“But you might!” you puffed up angrily, “let me do this!”

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” König curled his arms nervously.

“I won’t!” you pinned your earflaps to the sides of your head and flared your arms out.

König took one look at you and sighed.

“Go,” he turned and slunk back into the nest, “don’t come back until your bag is full.”

You notably didn’t mention that he was going into the nursery rather than the den as you hurriedly left the nest.

Now that you were free, you could actually get the job done. That, and think about how you were going to get the job done. That part you still weren’t sure about. You’d gone over the method a few times in your head, but you still weren’t fully sure. You had an idea though.

You had the feeling that if you managed to get the crab on its back you might be able to get to its weak spot. That was, if it didn’t pinch you in the process.

It wasn’t that you couldn’t handle a crab. At least, you thought you could handle a crab. Crabs weren’t that bad. Up near the surface they were pretty easy to kill. The hard shell made a nice little dish to hold things too. You’d used them to hold some of your piles of trinkets, like that lovely set of gold coins you’d once found. Unfortunately, you’d lost them all when your nest was taken over. A shame. You really liked them.

If you were lucky, König might be willing to give you some of the shells once he was done. If he knew you’d used them for trinkets before he’d surely hand them over. He was too sweet to do otherwise. König was just too good sometimes.

With your heart set on your goal, you headed out to where you knew the spider crabs lived.

When you’d travelled with König to meet up with his friends, he’d taken you over a small circle of stones. If you were right, it wouldn’t be far until you stumbled across them. The path König had taken had been practically straight the entire time, so you didn’t have any worries about getting lost. Rather, your only concern was something unfriendly finding you.

In the depths of the oceans, there was no such thing as playing fair. It wasn’t uncommon for hardfought prey to be snatched right from your fingers. In the gloom of the midnight zone, the only fish that survived was treachery. To survive, you had to be as cruel as the waters you lived in. It wasn’t a place for softness or kindness.

It wasn’t a place for you and König.

You shook the thought from your head. You’d find a space to make your home. There was still space for you. You just had to find a way.

Currently, that way just happened to be in the form of killing crabs and giving your partner their corpse as a trophy. Maybe your soft and tender love wasn’t so sweet after all. You’d have to unpack that later.

As you pondered the morality of merfolk mating traditions, you didn’t notice how the sea bed flew past you. The scenery changed as you passed over the rocks covered in tubeworms and over the various creatures hiding from view in the sand. The silence was broken occasionally by the call of a far off prey, then followed by a sickening crunch. Sometimes a lone whale song would split the night. Once, you’d gotten chills each time you heard them, but you’d learned there was no point being afraid of something that could easily be miles away.

Finally, the circle of rocks came into view.

You grinned and rushed forward.

When you got to the rocks, you noticed that they were notably absent of any large crabs. In fact, it seemed like all the crabs had completely vanished. It hadn’t been that long since you’d been there, had it? Had they really all disappeared? It couldn’t be.

You scanned the sand once more, trying to see if maybe they had buried into the sand. Nothing. Not a single sign of life. You’d have more luck with the tubeworms at this point. A part of you wondered if this was a sign to give up. Maybe you weren’t meant to do this. It was entirely possible that this was a suicide mission. And yet, you wanted to keep trying. Going home empty-handed to König simply wasn’t an option.

The only reasonable thing to do, in your mind, was to wait and see if any crabs came back to this site. So you did just that. You waited in the dark and hoped that a crab would return.

The waiting gave you time to think about what you wanted to about the upcoming mating season. König was the most obvious choice, but could you really win him over in such a short span of time? There were at most three weeks until it started, at which point you’d migrate to the twilight zone to join your kin. Cephalopod merfolk from all strains of life would come together to join in on the gathering.

Mating seasons usually began and ended with lust. That was the entire point of the gathering, after all. However, the ulterior purpose of mating season was to find a lifelong mate. Most cephalopod merfolk didn’t tend to take a singular mate, with many taking a harem to themselves. However, a few lucky merfolk would find their lifelong partner in the throng of tentacles. It was rare, but it was possible.

Most of the time, it was during the early part of the mating season that couples were formed. That was when most mer would do their best to court potential mates, but their attempts were painfully paper thin. It was obvious that most of them only wanted a steady partner for convenience rather than genuine interest. You’d had a few try and propose to you before, but you’d happily declined them each time. You’d rather be alone than be in a hapless partnership.

A partnership with König would be nice though. He had all the potential of being a good partner. You had to wonder why he didn’t have a mate already. Was there something about him you didn’t know? The thought had crossed your mind before. From all you’d seen, König was a perfect mate. Or at least, the perfect host. He had been nothing but hospitable to you. A bit more than that even if you let yourself read between the lines. You didn’t even need to go that far. At this point, König was practically begging for you to be his mate. At least, not with words.

The sounds he made in the nursery were more than enough to let you know what was happening. The lust of the upcoming mating season had started to cloud his mind. He was already losing control and you were privy to how his resolve steadily dissolved. Merfolk were creatures of instinct, and König was no different. He could be strange and reserved all he liked; König couldn’t fight his inner nature. The lust he held was a part of him that had been passed down through countless generations. It wasn’t something he could fight forever. It was only a matter of time before he cracked.

Normally, you would’ve been appalled for thinking such thoughts. From a third party, you might’ve thought you were taking advantage of König. In regards to taking his meals and home, that might have been true at one point, but as time passed you realised you simply enjoyed his company. He was a comfortable companion through conversation or silence alike. Simply being in his presence was enough to make you feel at ease. Not only that, but you knew he felt the same way.

It was in how he looked at you when he thought you didn’t notice. Hungry, wanting, and sad. So sad to see what he felt he couldn’t have. Not only his eyes were a giveaway, but also his lower arms. The way he held you when you met his friends was more than enough to tell you how he felt. He’d caged you in his lower arms like he was afraid of letting a single part of you be exposed to the predators he spoke to.

König had made it clear to you that he was interested. If it weren’t for his yearning for your touch and his desperation for your company weren’t clear enough, it was shown in his newfound interest in the nursery. He hadn’t explicitly banned you from the room, but there was an unsaid observance of the rule. At least, that was the case until he had left to go hunting recently.

As soon as he had left your sight you had gone back to explore. Just as you expected, you’d found a cluster of deflated eggs. The sight of them had shivers travelling through you. Soon enough, König would be expecting you to carry those for him. Or at least, you hoped he would. If he’d just ask you, you’d have been glad to take them. They might have been bigger than you were used to, but giant squids didn’t lay large clutches, so the possibility of carrying them wasn't out of the question. In fact, the thought of being pumped full of eggs had you squirming in your spot.

You looked around the sand. There still wasn’t a crab in sight. The thought of giving up passed through your mind again. It wasn’t too late to back out. It wasn’t  like König would care either way. The prospect of showing up with a crab was steadily declining.

Just as you were about to give up and go home, a twitch caught your eye.

Off in the distance, a crab was crawling along the sand.

Maybe giving up wasn’t in the cards after all.

Slowly you swam up and over to the crab, doing your best to avoid being detected by the animal. As you did, it dawned on you that the crab was bigger than you expected. This thing was a beast of a crab. The creature was picking away mindlessly at the sand with gigantic claws that could easily snip off one of your lower arms if you got too close.  The damn thing was so big that you were questioning whether or not you were willing to go through with it at all.

The crab moved slowly as it preened the sand for prey, completely oblivious to how you hovered above. If you struck now… Fuck it.

You dropped down on the crab like a bomb and wrapped your arms around its shell and crushed down. The crab immediately writhed and thrashed underneath in sheer terror as it tried to claw at you again and again with its giant pincers. You dodged them left and right as nimbly as you could but you were only so quick, so clever, and you watched in horror as the crab grabbed onto one of your lower arms. You screamed and thrashed against its crushing hold but it wouldn’t budge despite how you writhed. The crab pinched tighter and tighter as you desperately pulled against it. The pain shot through you like a lance through your nerves the more you tried to break free of its grasp. You looked around wildly, and then you saw it.

You reached out your hand towards a small rock, but seeing what you were trying to do the crab scuttled away. Your fingers left rake-like tracks through the sound and sand blew up into the air like a smokescreen. Without another thought in mind, you grabbed down on the crab’s body and rolled over onto your side. The crab immediately let go of your arm as it flailed wildly on top of you and rubbed its rough shells against your skin hard enough to dig into your skin. You watched clouds of blood bloom into the water as the crab pinched for the ground around it.

You wrapped your lower arms around each of the crab's legs to try and immobilize it but the crab was too strong for you. You were too weak. You ducked your head as the crab reached up to slash your face and rolled again with the crab in your arms.

As you rolled, the crab managed to squirm in your arms and grab onto another arm but missed by an inch. You couldn’t keep fighting like this. You needed to find an opening.

The crab’s belly was just out of reach. You wormed your way across the crab’s shell and slammed it back into the ground. The sand kicked up around you, giving you just the chance you needed. The crab splayed its legs wide and you took the chance to bury your fangs deep into its soft belly. Once you’d bitten down, you hauled the crab off your body and pushed up into the waters above.

The crab tried weakly to chase you up, but the venom was already working its way through its body. The animal weakly tried to pull itself up to its feet, but it quaked and fell back to the earth. Its pincers clasped once, twice, then never again.

You’d won.

You sighed and flopped on top of the crab. The pain in your arm felt like it had been ripped clean off, but when you pulled it up to check it looked like the crab had only just pierced the skin. It looked bruised and it bled, but it could heal. Relief washed through you and you lay your head back down on the crab’s shell.

Once you’d rested for a moment, you brought yourself together and pushed up. You looked down and frowned. How were you going to transport this thing?

—

It turned out the only way to transport the crab was to haul it on your back and swim as far as you could before you collapsed and rested again. The trip back was agony, but it was worth it as soon as you hauled the body into the nest.

“Hallo?” you heard König slowly crawl out of the nursery, “what are you-WHAT IS THAT.”

You pulled the crab through the whole and dropped it on the floor. You puffed up your chest and put your hands on your hips.

“I brought you dinner!” you crowed.

König slowly approached and looked down at the crab. He used his tentacles to adjust the crab’s limbs and marvel at your hunting prowess. His eyes went wide when he looked down at the pincers.

The awe and pride couldn’t be more evident. He was obviously so impressed by your skill. As he should, seeing as you nearly lost your arm for it. You waited eagerly for his response.

“Little octopus…” König said as he flipped the crab onto its back.

“I got it for you,” you said eagerly.

He glanced up at you and then back at the crab.

You leaned against the wall of the cave and said, “Wasn’t too hard either. I could’ve taken on a hundred of them.”

“Mhm,” König mused and glanced down at your lower arms.

You quietly hid your injured arm.

“Little octopus, why did you do this?” he asked as he settled down on the floor.

“Because I wanted to show you I could hunt?” you shrugged and followed his example, “I can provide for you too.”

König crossed his arms silently.

“Is… Is that a problem?”

He sighed and reached over the crab to take your hands in his.

“Little octopus,” he said softly, “you’re so… So…”

“Amazing?”

“Stupid,” he bonked you on the head with his tentacle, “you didn’t need to do this for me. I told you I was going to hunt for you.”

“What?” you puffed up like a balloon, “aren’t you proud of me!? I took this thing down myself!”

“I know, I know,” König assured you, “but you could’ve been seriously injured. Consider those scrapes on your chest a warning for what could’ve happened.”

You looked down at the scratches on your chest. You’d honestly forgotten about them by the time you got back to König’s nest.

“And your arm, too,” he muttered as he used one of his lower arms to wrap around your injured arm, “you got a bad pinch here. You’re lucky this one was too old to fight back.”

“Too old to fight back?” you scoffed.

“This one is old,” König glared at you, “if it were younger, you wouldn’t be here. You’d have been torn apart.”

“I would’ve been fine,” you huffed and crossed your upper arms over your chest.

“You would’ve died,” König stated flatly.

You looked down at the crab and lowered your ear flaps.

König sighed and deflated, then quietly used his tentacles to pull you to his chest and hugged you tight. He bent down and pressed his face into the crook of your neck and hummed.

You were frozen. It had been ages since you’d been this close to König and the proximity was overwhelming.

“I’m sorry little octopus,” König wrapped his tentacles around your back.

“Sorry?”

“For.. For touching you,” König admitted, “I just can’t believe you’d do something that dangerous, and I could’ve lost you and-”

“It’s okay,” you finally melted into his touch and rubbed your cheek against his chest, “I’m okay. I like it when you hold me like this.”

“You do?” König pulled back to look into your eyes.

You giggled, “Of course I do. Why would you think I didn’t?”

“Well, ah, ever since that…” König cringed, “the massage I-”

You put a finger over where his lips would be, “You’re an idiot.”

“I am?”

“Sometimes.”

König’s eyes flickered through confusion and relief before settling into mild annoyance.

“You’re saying I’m the reason we haven’t been close,” he said slowly.

“Yep,” you nodded sadly, “sorry.”

He groaned and pulled you tight into his lap.

“I’m so stupid,” he grumbled into your skin.

“You are,” you pet the back of his hood, “but it’s okay. I forgive you.”

König held you tight and then relaxed to look over your shoulder at the crab. He took off an arm and pulled it up to offer it to you.

“To your success as a hunter,” he said.

You gladly took it from him and bit into the meat with a content hum.

“I’m not letting you hunt on your own again,” König drawled.

“That’s fine,” you swallowed.

König shook his head and took a crab leg for himself. He slid you down onto his lower arms and wrapped a tentacle around your waist.

Your first attempt hadn’t worked so well, but you had gotten your cuddles back. Just a few more steps and König would be wrapped around your little finger, you were certain of it.

Konig Dump

Konig Alternate Universes

[artdcnaldson]

Ok so hear me out. I need you to write an au about virgin reader and art having sex for the first time while patrick watches (like the perv he is!) I imagine that it would probably take place during the hotel makeout scene or in art’s dorm room😄

all three of you are on the same freakuency..... sweet art's first time, he just needs some moral support, that's all!

And maybe you've been hooking up with Patrick on the side and he very selflessly asked if you'll pop Art's cherry. Not like you're in his lap with his dick in your hand, the words were mumbled clumsily against your lips.

"I just think..." You interrupt him with a clumsy kiss, which he pulls back from reluctantly. "It would be nice. He's going to college in the fall and— fuck, yeah, like that— it'd be nice to get him nice and deflowered before he's surrounded by all that pussy without any clue of what to do."

"Gross. Are you seriously trying to pimp me out?" You ask with a tiny grin, not entirely disgusted by anything more than Patrick’s casual misogyny. Your hand continues its slick glide up and down his cock. Patrick just grins at you, like that's answer enough. "You're an idiot."

Whatever. Idiot or not, you still fuck Patrick. Idiot or not, you agree to deflower Art Donaldson.

And Art's cute, in a boyish, sort of way. He's sweet, well intentioned. When you come onto him at the MRTA graduation, he's all wide-eyed and nervous. Aren't you seeing Patrick? Are you sure Patrick won't get mad?

"I’m not Patrick’s girlfriend. And besides, he wants me to," you tell him, and his fears melt away like cotton candy. Now that you've eased his mind, it's so easy to get him back to his dorm room. It’s so sweet, how he’s already hard in his jeans from a little kissing and the promise of something more. His eagerness just proves that Patrick was right— this really was the best gift he could give Art for graduation.

If it were up to you, it would’ve happened in your own dorm, but Patrick insisted that it had to happen in their dorm. So instead of soft sheets and tasteful decorations and scented candles, Art gets scratchy blankets and the smell of cigarette smoke and empty Gatorade bottles.

He swallows when he sees Patrick waiting on the bed. It all feels like a virginity-intervention. Still... Art sits on his side of the bed, knees touching Patrick's, and looks between the two of you, hackles up, backing into a defensive state.

"You're both making fun of me," he mutters, and there’s an angry twitch in his jaw, that thinly veiled restraint that you notice and file away for later. "This is a big joke, right? Patrick, you fucking asshole."

"I'm not making fun of you, Art," you assure, moving to sit in front of him, hands on his knees. It forces his pretty blue eyes to land firmly on you. "I just want to help. It'll be nice to get it done, won't it? Patrick and I can help you."

He huffs, glancing between the two of you again. "He's staying?" Patrick grins and nods. Of course he is. He'd been there for the start of Art's sexual awakening, no way he'd miss this too.

"Yeah, to give you some advice, baby," you say with a little smile. You move into his lap, mouthing at his jaw. He sighs a little, tilting his head to the side so your lips can move to suck on his pulse point. You smile against his throat, teeth grazing the sensitive spot there, and he whines. "That's it, just let us take care of you."

You just kiss him for a while— licking into his mouth, letting him taste and explore however he wants. His hands slip under your top, squeezing your tits while he moans into your mouth something incoherent about how soft, warm, perfect they are.

It's like he's drunk on it— painfully hard beneath you, whining at every little touch. When you peel off his pristine blue button up and run your thumbs over his nipples, he keens and mewls like it's the best thing he's ever felt. Fuck, maybe it is.

"You can't suck him off," Patrick says when you go to unbutton his pants. "He'll cum before he can even fuck you."

"Shut the fuck up, Patrick," Art mutters, shooting Patrick a glare that's about as deadly as he can manage with kiss swollen lips and mussed golden curls and ruddy cheeks. Like an angry little cherub. “I won’t… I’m not gonna cum if you touch me. I have gotten head before, and handjobs, and stuff.”

His hips buck mindlessly, seeking friction as you work the button and fly of his jeans. You smile as you rub over the bulge in the denim with your free hand, feeling the hard length of him. It makes him throw his head back and moan. “Yeah? But maybe Patrick’s right,” you murmur, lips trailing over his jaw. “Might be too much for you, baby. If we get you too worked up I don’t know if you’ll last when you’re inside of me.”

He whines. Really whines. It has to be one of the hottest things you’ve ever heard. “It’s not that I can’t, just… maybe I’m impatient.” You and Patrick share a look and grin. Sure. Impatient.

“I know you are,” you tell him, lips twitching as you fight an amused grin. “Just get me ready for you. You know how to do that?”

Patrick shakes his head behind Art, but you get the impression that maybe Art knows more than Patrick is willing to give him credit for. His hand slips under your dress, rubbing you through the cheap lace thong you’d bought at Wet Seal. Your eyes flutter shut as you gasp softly— his thumb rubs against your clit, but his eyes are locked on your every reaction.

“That’s good?” He murmurs softly. His index finger teases over your dripping entrance, barely concealed by hot pink lace. “It is, isn’t it? You’re so wet,” The words escape him mindlessly, like he’s accidentally verbalizing his thoughts. His cheeks go red and Patrick smiles like this is the proudest he’s ever been.

The tips of his fingers catch on the wet fabric and tug it to the side, just enough that his fingers can tease over your dripping pussy. His thumb maintains its pressure on your clit as he sinks his middle finger inside you to his second knuckle. A soft puff of breath like a gasp slips past his lips as he feels your walls squeezing around him.

“He’s really good,” you gasp out, looking at Patrick over Art’s shoulder as he stretches you on his fingers. Patrick’s big hand splays over his lap, squeezing at the hard length of his cock in his jeans as he watches. “Better than you, maybe.” Patrick laughs softly, rolling his eyes as he leans back against the headboard.

Art likes the praise, you know he does because his lips twitch into a cocky smirk as he sinks a second finger alongside the first, curling them until his fingertips press against a sensitive spot that makes stars dance across your vision. He knows what he’s doing, of course he does, he’s driven by the need to be praised and desired. The silent, unspoken competition in his mind against Patrick driving him to do anything he can to keep you pleased and happy.

Each pretty moan and gasp from your lips is lapped up like the sweetest honey. He nuzzles against your jaw as he fucks you with thick fingers, like your body is a pretty little piece of equipment he’s been trained to perfectly use. He moans against your skin when you come, cunt fluttering and squeezing around his fingers, like he’s feeling it every bit as much as you are.

You’ve forgotten to spare a glance at Patrick— it’s too easy to get lost in the ways that Art can play with your body. His jeans are tugged down just enough for him to free himself— and his hand works over the length of his cock as he pumps his fist in time with Art’s fingers. You squeeze Art’s arm once, twice, to get him to stop and he obeys, withdrawing fingers slick with your juices and licking them off like you’re his favorite meal.

“Are you sure he’s a virgin?” You murmur as you push Art back against the sheets, his pretty golden curls fanned out against his pillow like a halo.

Patrick nods, watching hungrily as you undress the pretty boy beneath you. His fancy dress shoes and socks, his jeans and button down, then his boxers. Until Art’s naked and flushed pink beneath you, drooling precum onto his tummy as his cock jerks with weak little pulses. When he looks at you, his pupils are so dilated they swallow up the pretty blue. He’s so pretty and debauched it makes you feel a little dizzy.

You slip off your dress, then your panties, and watch the bob of his Adam’s apple in his throat as he looks at you. “Are you okay with me on top?” You ask as you straddle his hips. You’re so close that he can feel the heat emanating from your body, from your cunt.

He swallows again, glancing over at Patrick like he’s asking for permission. “She’s good at it,” Patrick tells him. “You can just lay back and let her do all the work.“

You’d tell Patrick not to be a dick, but, well, he’s kind of right. You don’t expect Art to do anything— it’s his first time. But Patrick fucking loves laying back and making you work for it, like you’d have to earn the right to come. Art’s not that kind of guy— at least, not yet. But you can sense that smug confidence beneath the surface, lying dormant.

You reach down and take his cock into your hand, flushed red and slick with precum. You give an experimental pump in your hand and watch as more dribbles out. Needy boy. You sit up, lining him up with your entrance when he grabs your thigh. “Wait, don’t I need a condom?”

Patrick reaches into the bedside drawer, but you just shake your head. “It’s fine,” you tell him, teasing his tip through your folds, getting him even wetter. “I’m on the pill, and I know you’re clean. You can cum in me.”

As soon as the words slip past your lips, he squeezes his eyes shut like he’s in pain. You can feel his cock pulsing in your grasp and you have to bite back an amused grin. “Hold on, wait—“ he gasps out, gripping your hips like a vise, dimpling the plush skin there. “Don’t do it yet, just… give me a second. Just a second.”

It’s a pretty sight— his full lips parted as he pants softly, the little furrow in his brow where his eyes pinch shut. He takes one deep breath, then another, and nods. “Okay,” he pants. “Okay, I’m ready.”

You have to go slow so you don’t overwhelm him, sinking down inch by inch by inch. He groans, head tiling back against the pillows, the fine muscles of his neck taut. His hands grasp onto your hips, squeezing tight like it might ground him in reality, like it’s keeping him from slipping into a dizzy, mindless euphoria.

When you’re finally flush against him, he takes a shaky breath and opens his eyes to look at you. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he gasps. “And you feel— oh, god— you’re so warm, and wet, and you’re so fucking tight.”

Patrick moans at the sight of Art falling apart beneath you, hand squeezing around his cock as he pumps his length. The sight makes heat bloom in your tummy, and you feel yourself squeezing around Art’s cock. He whines, panting out hot puffs of breath.

It’s easy to forget how strong he is when he’s beneath you like this. But he grips your hips and pulls you forward, encouraging you to glide along his cock. “Please,” he says weakly, looking up at you with wide, pleading eyes. “I can take it.”

“He can take it,” Patrick echoes with a grin. There’s something about the thinly veiled amusement in his eyes that tells you he wants you to unmake Art entirely— to take the sweet, needy boy and make him something unrecognizable. Something primal, something pathetic. “C’mon, look at him. He’s a big boy, he can handle it.”

You begin to move, palms splayed against his chest as you rock your hips, nice and slow. He groans, head tipping back, eyes rolling so you can see the whites of them.

"You feel so good, Art," you gasp as you begin to move a little faster. He whines, eyes locked on the sight of your tits bouncing as you ride his cock. "So perfect."

Art wants more. He inches his hands a little higher, so his fingertips brush against your breasts, almost nervous to just grab. Patrick scoffs. "Just grab her tits, Art— Jesus— she likes it."

And he does. Big, rough hands gripping your tits, squeezing as you ride him. He bucks his hips up, seeking the tight warmth of your cunt as you move, just wanting to hold you down and stay buried there.

"Move faster," Patrick says. You can hear from the gravel in his voice, that tiny hint of whininess, that he's getting close. Of course Patrick wouldn't want to finish first and have to sit there watching Art have all the fun.

And, technically, Patrick is your boyfriend (or, at least, you think he is, and Art thinks he is, and Patrick... is a mystery), so you decide to indulge in his request.

"Wait—" Art pants, hands flying down to your hips as you ride him harder. "Oh, fuck— wait, wait— you're gonna— nghh, god—" He squeezes his eyes shut, chest heaving as you bounce on his cock. He squeezes, fingers dimpling the plush fat of your ass as he tries to slow you down, or maybe just hold on for some sense of grounding as you bring him closer and closer to a sweet release.

"C'mon, Art," you gasp, nails digging into his pale pecs. "C'mon, we want you to cum, baby."

He tries to hold out. He really does, but you want him to cum, you're asking for it. You and Patrick. He cries out, bucking up into your cunt as he finishes, pumping a warm load inside of you. He whines, eyes fluttering as his cock twitches, dribbling out his last drops of cum.

Patrick's chest is splattered with his own release, drying messily in his chest hair, Art Donaldson is beneath you— sated and deflowered. You glance over at Patrick while Art's eyes are still squeezed shut and make a face that says I didn't even cum. You owe me.

He just grins and nods, like it's a given that he'd get you off after. But honestly, you figure it's 50-50 that he'll follow through. Maybe you can just ask Art.

[omgshiftercat]

I have a friend whose ex, a minor celebrity in some circles, was abusive.

Shortly after she and some other women went public about it, there were some people who chimed in talking about other misdeeds of his.

Her ex was, and is, a loathsome waste of oxygen, and the words, "...who deserves every accusation leveled at him" would almost escape my lips...

...Except that some of the accusations people began throwing around because they (understandably) hated this guy weren't true.

This did not help my friend at all! It muddied the waters, and gave her awful ex ammunition for his claims that people were just out to get him, and were willing to make stuff up to smear him.

Switching gears: there's been a lot of discussion recently about how some brilliant and influential art has been created by objectively terrible people. Part of that discussion has been calling out people who say, "Their work always sucked," or "I never liked it." Not only are statements like this unhelpful, they provide cover for predators. If you insist that your tastes reflect your morality, you're giving yourself a huge blind spot, and making it easy to dismiss evidence of harm done by creators you happen to like.

This is one reason why I think exhibits like this one are important: they help teach that lesson.

Three notes on this: 1. by the time of that exhibition, Gill was long dead and therefore unable to profit from it.

2. This kind of thing isn't necessary for every artist, because not every creator does heinous things.

3. My friend's ex is nowhere near the artistic league of Eric Gill or any of the other creators I'll discuss.

Switching gears again...

If someone mentions a bespectacled British boy wizard with an owl familiar, in a modern setting with "secret world" magic, the name that springs to mind is most likely "Harry Potter", right?

But Timothy Hunter, from The Books of Magic, was published a full seven years before that. I was working in a bookstore when the novelizations for the BoM comics came out, and had to tell kids that no, this was not a HP rip-off.

I don't think the reverse was true, either: for one thing, The Books of Magic is set in the DC Universe, and I've never heard of JKR reading superhero comics. But also... sometimes completely separate creators will come up with strikingly similar ideas, utterly by coincidence. It's one reason why most authors tell fans NOT to send them ideas or fanfiction based on their work: there is rarely any good way to prove that you didn't steal a concept.

Now, obviously every creator is influenced by other people's works, and I completely agree that it's good to acknowledge that and to point fans towards your influences!

When Rowling began channeling her resources into making life worse for trans folk, I saw a lot of people saying, "Well, Harry Potter was just a mediocre rip-off of The Worst Witch anyway."

While I haven't read that series, I strongly doubt this claim. The idea of magic schools is older and more widespread than either of those series, and "British boarding school hijinks, but it's a magic school" was bound to be written more than once.

Now, some of you already know, and others have looked up, who originally wrote Tim Hunter. And... yeah, it's Neil Gaiman. *sigh*

In the last few days, I've seen some people saying, "The Sandman ripped off Tanith Lee's Tales from the Flat Earth." They cite a number of similarities: Azhrarn, the Lord of Darkness, is a pale-skinned, raven-haired Byronic figure with a sibling-like relationship to the Lord of Death and the Lord of Madness. Like the Endless, these beings are god-like, but specifically not gods. Apparently some people have mistaken fanart of Azhrarn for Morpheus. And Chuz, Prince Madness, has a bisected appearance, half his face horribly messed up, like the demoness Mazikeen.

But speaking as someone who was a fan of the late Tanith Lee years before I picked up an issue of The Sandman: I don't believe the latter was stolen from the former. Are there similarities? Yes, but they're superficial. If you've read both series, as I have, you'll know that the stories, settings, and characters are very different!

It's possible Gaiman was influenced by Lee's writing, and if so, I agree he should have acknowledged that. He did promote the work of other female creators, which is one reason why many of us thought he was "one of the good ones". But it's also entirely possible that these two authors independently came up with similar ideas.

When it comes right down to it, I think that statements like this -- "their best work was just a rip-off of something else" -- are just another variant of "their work always sucked".

It's often an easier accusation than "they've always been crap", because, as I said, writers come up with strikingly similar concepts all the time, and it's very hard to prove you didn't steal an idea. But it has the same problems, so -- barring the kind of case you could make with a college-level plagiarism-catching program -- I think it's best avoided.

Now, telling people, "Hey, are you sad about this creator turning out to be an awful person to whom you don't want to give any more money? Try this other person's work instead!" This is good! Let's have more of it!

Addendum 1: I think "separate the art from the artist" should mean, "you don't have to treat books already on your shelf as if they're suddenly coated in poison", not "I'm going to ignore this creator's actions and keep buying their products anyway."

Addendum 2: I just posted a version of this to Bluesky.

[artiezweig]

art donaldson x reader smut

contains: reader gets art to talk about his needs in the bedroom using a vibrating toy

the new toy you purchased for art is vibrating and thrusting around his cock. your remote controls the speed and intensity.

“feels… so good. so intense” art says.

“i have some questions to ask you while you do this. you gotta answer all 5 before you come,”

you needed to get him into a state of total bliss to get him to be able to answer truthfully without overthinking.

“what’s something you haven’t done in the bedroom yet that you wanna try?”

you look art right the eyes as he blushes and looks down. you stroke art’s chest lightly, brushing over his hard nipples.

“I uhh I want you to tie me up,”

you immediately increase the vibrations as you smirk.

“we can definitely do that,”

art groans, putting his head back as he lets the pleasure run through his body.

“do you remember the best orgasm you’ve ever had?”

“hmm.. that time you edged me so many times when we went away to st. croix. i swear i almost passed out …. nggggghhh… it was so good,”

“awww you came so hard that night, i almost felt bad,”

you switch the settings of the toy to keep art on his toes.

“have you ever had a sex dream about me?”

“yeah, i have,” art says in his very matter-of-fact way. by now, his voice has become breathier and more raspy, “more than once,”

“tell me about one of them,”

“pretty recently, when i was on tour, i dreamt that i gave you head in the car in the back of a crowded lot,”

you mess with the vibrations and it sends a jolt through art’s body.

“you looked so beautiful,” art breathed, “you always do,”

you suck a hickey on his neck.

“what do you like about being submissive in bed?”

“ummm.. i don’t know, i just really like it,”

you shut off the toy. art needs to give a better answer than that.

“noooo,”

“you can give me more than that, baby”

you stroke his shoulders rhythmically.

“okay okay. i feel like… i can let go. my head goes blank and… i feel really warm inside,”

you turn the vibrations back on and art moans. at this point, art is squirming around and his body is tensing up.

“you’re so beautiful, art,”

he blushes and covers his face, so you softly remove his hand.

“do you have any fantasies that i don’t know about?”

“i… im really fucking close , can i cum, please can I cum”

“this is the last question, you can do it,”

“okay… i-“ art breaths out loudly, “sometimes i think about… nghhh fuck… about what would happen if everyone could see what i’m into in bed,”

“pretty boy tennis star art donaldson is really just a slut, huh?” you giggle, placing a kiss on his thigh. he’s shaking. “tell me more,”

at this point, art is whimpering and you can tell he’s about to tip over the edge. he’s sweating and his face is bright red.

“everyone would see how pathetic I am. aghhh they would all know i belong to you,”

“that’s right love. you’re such a good boy. you can let go now. come for me, baby,”

you see art’s abs clench as he gets closer to the edge. his grunts get louder and he squeezes your hand. as his body is overcome by his orgasm, his eyes shut. an obscene amount of cum ends up on his stomach.

when he catches his breath, you reach and grab the box of tissues on the bed side table to clean him up- art hates the feeling of stickiness. art’s body looks so relaxed. you kiss him all over, shower him with praises and cuddle him tightly.

art is so very loved.

[carelisswriting]

Vectors

Hey y'all, this is one of my fics for ecto-implosion this year!

My partner this time is @blobghost, and I really enjoyed working with them! The art they made that inspired this fic is amazing, please check it out!!

Hope y'all enjoy the fic!!

***

“Do I really have to wear this? It’s so stuffy.” Danny complained, tugging at the collar of his shirt.

Clockwork hummed lightly, smoothing down the vest that kept getting bunched up no matter what Danny did “It is traditional for the King to wear clothing befitting their station.”

“Okay, but, counterpoint, I really think my normal suit would be fine-“

“Daniel. We have been over this.” Clockwork said with a sigh.

Danny rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue anymore.

They had, in fact, been over this. They didn’t want to give anyone an excuse to dispute his claim to the throne, or start a stupid fight about him being a bad choice for King.

That last bit was most likely to happen because of the Observants, which Clockwork had told Danny would be ‘an annoyance’. Considering that was strong wording for Clockwork, and weirdly straightforward as well, Danny was taking him pretty seriously about it.

Anyway, what it meant was, unfortunately, Danny was stuck wearing the stuffy formal clothes.

Okay, to be fair, they weren’t that stuffy. They just weren’t as casual as he would’ve liked them to be. For that, he’d need to be in jeans and a t-shirt, or his suit.

At least the belt had a pocket for his thermos.

Danny turned, grabbing the notecards for his speech. He’d spent the last few days trying to come up with something that didn’t completely suck, and hopefully he’d managed to do it.

He was not that confident, however. Clockwork had refused to help him with it, stating that “A King’s words must be their own, whether or not they are.”

“Tell me again why I have to do this? I really think I could get away with not doing it.” He said, stuffing the notecards in the same pocket as his thermos.

Clockwork did not sigh, but Danny could tell he wanted to.

“You need to announce your intentions as King, as well as formally swear to uphold the mantle of the Ghost King and protect the Realms. You cannot ‘get away with not doing it’.”

Danny floated off the ground, flipping onto his stomach so he could prop his head up on his hands “Okay, yeah all that is important, but like, I really think I could just not do it and everything would be fine. There’s no way Pariah did it-“

“Pariah Dark did, in fact, have a formal speech, swear-in, and coronation.” Clockwork said, cutting him off.

Well damn, there goes his best argument. Wait-

“You’re telling me Pariah Dark, as in the same Pariah Dark who was completely insane, made a speech about how he was going to ‘protect the Realms’ and be a good King?” Danny asked, bewilderment in his voice.

Clockwork sighed, an amused tone to it.

“Well, no. His speech was much more focused on ‘crushing his enemies’ and being ‘the most powerful ghost’. However, he still made one.”

Danny sighed, before lowering himself back onto the ground “Fine, fine, I guess I do have to make the stupid speech. Would’ve been more convenient if I could’ve done the coronation at the same time.”

He was being a little bit petty with that. But, to be fair, Clockwork had literally just shown up in his room, in the middle of the night, with the Crown and Ring and crowned him right then and there. Well, not quite then, seeing as time had been frozen. Regardless, the entire thing had been weird.

“You had to be crowned then, Daniel. Just as you have to make this speech now.”

Vague, and unhelpful. Just like Clockwork usually was.

Clockwork reached out to smooth out the vest again, since Danny twisting in the air had messed it up.

…Okay, maybe he wasn’t usually unhelpful. At least when he wasn’t trying to be.

Ancients, everything about Clockwork was so confusing-

“Are you ready, Daniel?”

Danny shook his head slightly, focusing back on Clockwork.

“Ready as I can be, I guess.”

Clockwork nodded, before opening the door and stepping out into the hallway.

Danny followed after him, not bothering to close the door behind him. Technically, the Keep was his now, so it didn’t matter.

He was not actually planning to spend time here, but it was the principle of the thing.

As they walked through the Keep, Danny could see the finishing touches on the renovation being completed, ghosts floating around and carefully reshaping the architecture. The renovation was mostly for the ghosts that actually enjoyed the Keep, but Danny had been the one to start it.

The whole point was to make the castle not quite as crumbly, and not as gloomy. He’d wanted to make it nice, since it was technically his. He’d also wanted to make it better for the ghosts who liked it and wanted to live there.

Already, it was looking a heck of lot better with repaired walls and more color. Though, since he’d put other ghosts in charge of the actual decoration, a lot of the decoration was in ‘his colors’, which everyone seemed to define as black, white, and a bit of green. At least it was better than the grey and blacks of the Keep previously. The white brought at least some brightness into the long hallways.

Clockwork stopped outside the door to the throne room, turning back to Danny.

He inclined his head, gesturing for Danny to step into the room ahead of him.

Which, for the record, Danny did not want to do.

But unfortunately, he couldn’t avoid this.

He sighed, before stepping in front of Clockwork and through the door.

Oh that was entirely too many ghosts. There had to be at least three hundred crammed in the throne room, waiting for his speech. They were stretching the limits of how many of them could fit in here comfortably.

Danny had a feeling the only reason there weren’t any more was because a bunch of the Realms had sent representatives, as opposed to multiple of their denizens coming.

He knew there were representatives because of the fact that a ton of them sent letters ahead, giving him their regards and generally sucking up to him.

He was not a fan of that part of being king. He was literally a random teenager, why were these people trying so hard to get his favor?

He knew why, obviously, but it was still a valid question. He couldn’t even drive! Though ghosts probably didn’t care about that, actually.

He finally looked away from the crowd, seeing the raised dais where the throne sat, as well as the ghosts on it. Clockwork had made his way over at some point, and-

Ugh. Great. The Observants were here. Or at least one of them was. Probably to ‘keep an eye on things’.

It was fine, he had the notecards. He wasn’t going to give them an excuse to yell at him. Or Clockwork. Ancients, did he hate the amount of control the stupid eyeballs had over him-

“King Phantom!”

Danny froze as he realized he’d been spotted by the crowd. The door had let out just next to the dais, slightly out of sight, so he hadn’t caught their attention immediately, but now that one of them had noticed him, they all noticed him. He quickly stopped being able to recognize his name in the cacophony that followed.

Danny winced, before floating up onto the dais. As he did, the crowd quieted, all of them waiting for him to speak.

No pressure, or anything.

At least he remembered how he was supposed to start his speech.

“Greetings, Dead and Neverborn of the Infinite Realms. Thank you for attending to this speech, as it was not ordered of you.” As he spoke, Danny carefully pulled out his notecards and hid them behind his back. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to use them, but he didn’t want to fumble them if he did.

The crowd cheered, some of them looking at him with expressions that bordered on mania. He’d realized, in all the preparation for this speech and fixing up the Keep, that a few of the ghosts were desperate for a ruler. That wasn’t, y’know, Pariah Dark.

It was really weird to think they saw him as the solution to their problems.

“In this speech, my intentions as ruler will be formerly declared, as well as illustrated through the taking of vows-“

Danny froze, feeling something. It felt almost like his ghost sense, but different. A sense that the area in front of him was warping-

The crowd in front of him shifted nervously-

He heard the Observant mutter-

And then the something snapped.

Hovering in front of him was a staff, horizontal and roughly level with his waist. On one end, a black hole lay, drawing some of the ambient ectoplasm into it. On the other, a white hole, small shapes that almost looked like birds flying out. Connecting them, a thin bridge of bright green rods, mimicking the way that space-time was shown in every textbook he’d seen.

Danny took a breath, feeling the powercoming off the staff in waves.

-Child king, betwixt realms you lie.-

Danny startled at the voice, seeming to come from every corner of the room and yet not reaching more than him.

-In this, you are unique. In this, your potential is revealed. In this, your responsibility.-

Danny felt frozen, held in place by the voice and the staff.

-Reach out to Space, child king. To the Space between stars. Reach out and hold your fate.-

Danny shuddered, feeling the voice retreat, the staff floating in front of him folding back into itself. He could tell that no one else had heard it, the crowd’s faces uneasy and full of confusion.

He stared at the staff, seeing the twin spaces at the ends swirl, shine, reach out and touch the world around them.

He- The staff felt right, somehow. The idea of taking it up, holding it for the rest of his afterlife. It wasn’t like anything he’d ever felt.

The Crown and Ring were a burden, one forced on him by circumstances and Vlad’s rash actions.

Even other artifacts, like the Infini-Map, were neutral presences on his senses.

The staff felt like coming home.

He held out a hand to it, dropping the notecards.

They fluttered to the ground as he reached out to grab it.

His fingers barely an inch away as the Observant screeched “No!”

Grazing the staff, the buzzing of the black and white holes overtaking him, as he faintly heard Clockwork declare “A master of Space has been chosen.”

His hand wrapped around the staff, and pain surged into him.

Cold and burning and tearing his very atoms apart-

Fractals of ice surged out from him, Danny just barely able to see the crowd flinch away and panic through the tears in his eyes.

He dropped to his knees, no longer able to hold himself up in the face of the pain coursing through his entire body. The staff was still gripped in his hand, his muscles locking around it as it threw all its power into him.

He could feel it as parts of him changed, as parts of him broke and reformed in the wake of the staff’s power, of Space, pouring into him.

He wasn’t big enough, he couldn’t contain it, Space was too large-

Space was infinity, Space was miniscule, Space was shredding him-

Danny’s vision blurred, and he listed to the side as the pain reached a crescendo.

He caught a hint of purple in the corner of his view as he screamed, as he fell to pieces, as he-

As he passed out, mercifully feeling nothing.

***

He woke up slowly, blinking up at the unfamiliar ceiling for a while.

He’d been about to give his speech, but he’d only gotten through some of it before-

His hand flexed around the staff, still clutched in his grip.

 Right. He’d passed out.

Danny blinked again. Wait, he’d passed out cause of the pain. But.

He felt fine. Better than fine, really. He felt like he’d gotten a normal amount of sleep for once, on top of having more energy than he’d had since the ghost attacks started.

He also felt…different.

He frowned, sitting up.

He glanced down at the staff, hearing it hum as he moved it around. It looked the same, other than-

Huh. In the center of the green links, there were black and white ribbons of ectoplasm twining around each other, shifting and changing before his eyes.

Had that happened because of him grabbing the staff?

It must have.

Danny glanced around the room, at the gears and clocks on the walls. Clockwork must’ve taken him back to Long Now after he passed out. Which, thank the Ancients for that. The other options would’ve been staying at the Keep, which, no thank you, or trying to get Danny back to the human realm while he was passed out, which would’ve gone even worse than staying at the Keep.

He looked at the room for a moment longer, and became aware of something.

The room wasn’t real. Well, it was real, of course it was. But it wasn’t really a room.

It was just measures of space, of objects in space and measures of their own space.

Easily manipulated with just a moment of effort-

Danny twitched the hand holding the staff, not even thinking as he did it, and found himself by the far wall. It wasn’t teleportation, it wasn’t even moving. It was just changing how he viewed the space. There was no difference between him sitting on the bed and him standing by the wall, not really, not from his point of view-

Danny shook his head, snapping himself out of the trance he’d gone into when he’d realized the room wasn’t real. Okay, that was weird. He could still see, or sense, the way that the Space in the room had no fundamental difference between it. He could definitely pull the little trick of moving Space around him again, if he wanted to.

This was really weird. And not normal, even for ghosts. They teleported, yeah, but not like that. He should be freaking out.

But the staff still felt like home, felt safe, felt right.

And the way that Space folded around him at the slightest desire from himself felt right, too. Like it was meant to be this way.

…He should find Clockwork.

He’d know what was happening, why this staff had appeared in front of Danny. Why it seemed to have been waiting for him.

He opened the door with the hand that wasn’t holding the staff. Briefly, he wondered if he could set it down. The amount of wrongness that hit him at the thought of doing that confirmed he couldn’t, at least for now.

That really should’ve sent him into a panic attack or something. It didn’t.

Instead, he felt calm, even giddy. The staff was so cool!

The concept of having a black hole so neatly contained was already insane, and he really wanted to know how it worked but had an unfortunate feeling that the answer was magic, or at least close to it-

But having a white hole, of all things! It proved that they existed, even if just on the end of an impossible staff. Danny was the first human to see one! It proved the theory that they were the inverse of black holes as well, since it was on the opposite end-

Danny blinked, stopping in his tracks in the hallway. Huh.

Were the holes connected? If he sucked something into the black hole, would it appear out of the white hole?

Earlier it had just been pulling in ambient ectoplasm, though it strangely wasn’t doing that anymore, and putting out the bird-lookalike energy, but now that he had claimed it, would something different happen?

Logically, it should be more controlled. That was probably why it wasn’t pulling in ambient ectoplasm, and why it hadn’t sucked up the bed he had been in.

Danny looked down at the staff, watching the black and white energy twine together inside the staff.

On one hand, he really should go find Clockwork.

On the other hand, it couldn’t hurt if he played around with the staff a bit first, right?

He was pretty sure it was connected to him, and did what he wanted, so it wasn’t like he was accidentally going to cause a Space-Time anomaly or anything.

Unless he wanted to. He probably could if he wanted to.

But Danny was not going to do that, especially not in the middle of Clockwork’s lair.

That would just be rude.

Though, he really didn’t think Clockwork would care that much what he did as long as there wasn’t too much damage to be easily repairable. The ghost had always been nice to Danny, and accommodating, excluding their first meeting.

Their first meeting was a disaster. And also one that was not going to be repeated, ever, for multiple reasons.

Anyway! The point is he really wanted to mess around with the staff.

So, he was gonna mess around with the staff.

Danny grinned, holding the staff out in front of him like he’d seen his sister do with her bo staff.

He…was probably going to have to bother her for lessons if this turned out to be a staff he could actually fight with.

Danny shook his head, concentrating on the staff. He might as well test out the black hole first, since that fed into the white hole.

He glanced around, looking for something he could destroy without it being too much of a problem, or too annoying for Clockwork. He zeroed in on a small vase, one without any of the clock or gear imagery Clockwork was fond of. Instead, it had what looked like fish swimming through seaweed, though they weren’t like any fish Danny had ever seen, fins branching off fins.

Either way, not something Clockwork was likely to care if Danny destroyed. It was probably something he’d picked up or been given, and shoved in the hallway so he wouldn’t have to see it.

Danny knew for a fact that Clockwork spent most of his time in his viewing room, or the garden. Well, and the living room, but he was pretty sure that had only started after Danny started coming around.

He was pretty sure the living room hadn’t even existed before he’d started coming around.

It was nice, that Clockwork had made such a comfy space for him.

Danny shook his head again. He needed to stop getting off track. Thinking about feelings and stuff later, testing cool new staff now.

He braced himself, before sweeping the staff out at the vase. He made contact with it, the black hole dragging and distorting the vase as it pulled it in. That’s so cool-

Danny, unfortunately, had overestimated the amount of force he should put behind his swing. He realized this as the black hole kept moving forward, and made contact with one of the many clocks on the walls.

The brass machinery was sucked into the black hole, a shrieking sound following as it was ripped off the wall. Danny winced, hastily pulling back the staff.

Okay, noted. This thing was a lot lighter than it looked. Or it just felt lighter to him. Either way, hopefully Clockwork would forgive him about the clock.

Though, Danny wasn’t going to tell him if he could avoid it. It was more a hope that Clockwork would forgive him when he inevitably found out on his own.

He glanced back at the wall, seeing that despite the horrible noise it had made, pulling the clock off it hadn’t damaged it all that much. At least he’d gotten rid of the vase.

Danny started to float down the hall. He probably needed to head to the viewing room, he’d bet that’s where Clockwork was.

It took him a minute or so of floating through the halls to remember the original reason he’d been experimenting with the staff.

He wanted to figure out if something would come out of the white hole after being sucked into the black hole. He glanced around, seeing that the hallway he was in now didn’t have anything he was likely to destroy if he messed up again. The walls were full of interlocking gears, and Danny knew from experience they were not easily destroyed.

He may or may not have accidentally hit one of them with an ectoblast. And some of his ice. And also himself. He’d been running on an hour of sleep and three ghost fights, it really wasn’t his fault. Clockwork had barely managed to avoid laughing, Danny could just tell. He’d let him take a nap outside of time after that though, so that made up for it.

Anyway, the gears were not likely to get messed up, was his point.

Danny looked at the staff for a moment, before holding it out in front of himself again.

Okay, how was he gonna do this? It had seemed pretty obvious that the black hole had to touch things, though technically he bet that wasn’t so much a restriction of the staff as it was a restriction he was putting on the staff-

He needed to focus.

Danny tilted his head. Well, a bit of that ramble probably was useful. If the staff responded to him, which he was sure it did, it just hadn’t really sunk in yet- The staff responded to him.

So, he could do whatever and have the staff do what he wanted.

Danny grinned, before pulling back the staff and making a motion with it as if he was hurling an ectoblast at someone.

A burst of white light shot out of the staff, heading directly towards the gears on the wall, and it was then that Danny realized two things.

One, it looked like whatever went in the black hole got turned into energy, which made sense, at least a little bit-

And two, he hadn’t considered the fact that the staff was quite a bit more powerful than one of his ectoblasts.

The energy blast hit one of the gears, shattering it and stopping the spinning of the gears around it as they lost connection with each other.

Danny grimaced, looking at the remnants of the gear on the floor. That…was not going to be fun to fix. And he did not doubt that he would be the one fixing it, when Clockwork found out. At the very least, he’d be made to help.

He was gonna put off Clockwork finding out about this for as long as he could.

It wasn’t like the damage was in an area of Long Now he went through that often, and he’d told Danny that it often took him months to realize if something had gone awry with his lair, just due to how big it was and his own distorted sense of time.

So, if luck was on Danny’s side, which it almost never was, he wouldn’t have to fix the wall for a few months.

Danny sighed.

Yeah, he was fixing it before he left today, wasn’t he?

Unless something distracted Clockwork enough.

The staff in Danny’s hand hummed, and he realized that Clockwork probably was pretty distracted. He’d seemed to know what was going on with the whole ‘Master of Space’ thing, anyway.

Danny should probably find him, instead of destroying more stuff.

Accidentally destroying more stuff.

Danny shook his head, before flying down the hallway. The viewing room was usually close-ish to the living room and the garden, just cause Clockwork didn’t want to have to go that far if Danny visited or he needed to check on the time screens.

All Danny had to do was find one of the three rooms, and he was sure to find Clockwork.

Who would hopefully have some explanations.

***

In the end, it took about twenty minutes for Danny to find his way to the viewing room.

Long Now was big, and also Danny had spent perhaps too long wandering and thinking about the staff.

It turned out that the room he woke up in was pretty close to the living room, if he’d gone the other way in the hallway.

Which was a bit frustrating, but fine. He’d gotten to mess around with his cool new staff, anyway.

He opened the door to the viewing room, seeing Clockwork floating in front of the time screens, his back to Danny. Each screen showed a different era, from regency London to 80’s Japan. Danny had gotten a lot better at identifying time periods after he’d started hanging out at Long Now more, but it was weird that he could tell where the screens were showing. None of the scenes had specific landmarks, or people. He just…knew.

Probably due to his new staff, and title, now that he thought about it.

Clockwork turned, a small smile on his face as he faced Danny.

“I trust you’re satisfied with your staff and new powers, then?”

He sounded fond, exactly like he did when Danny managed to finish a homework problem he’d been struggling with, or like he did when Danny showed up to vent after a long day.

It became very clear, in that moment, that Clockwork knew everything. And that he had known this would happen for a while, maybe even since- since their first meeting.

He was the Master of Time, after all.

Danny drifted closer, watching Clockwork carefully.

“Why?”

He figured Clockwork had more than enough context to work out what he meant.

Clockwork hummed slightly “You’ve already worked out you are the Master of Space, yes?”

Danny nodded, before adding “I don’t know what it means, though. I know you’re the Master of Time-“

Danny cut himself off, a realization hovering at the edges of his thoughts.

The Master of Time. And the Master of Space.

Space-Time.

“I see you’ve figured it out, Daniel. The Realms needs both a Master of Space and a Master of Time, to be truly stable.” Clockwork said, turning back to his time screens.

Danny floated over to stand next to him.

“As you’ve seen, and participated in, my duty is to keep the Timeline running in the correct way, and to make sure things work out as they’re supposed to. But I am limited in directly interacting with the events I see, and limited in my abilities to intervene in any that need to change.”

Danny frowned. He’d thought that was all due to the Observants, but the way Clockwork was talking-

“The Realms choose the Masters, and I was chosen due to already having a strong connection to time, the ability to see the past and future. Though, I must admit, much of my current powers are due to my staff.” Clockwork continued, gesturing vaguely at the time screens.

Danny tilted his head slightly. The traveling in time, and stopping it, were because of the staff? He’d assumed that the staff was an extension of Clockwork’s powers, rather than the source-

Though, of course, his own staff was the source of his new powers.

“So, why was I chosen? I don’t really have any ‘Space-y’ powers, not without the staff.” Danny asked, shifting so he could see Clockwork’s face.

Clockwork smiled “I am getting to that, Daniel. The point is that it was simple, comparatively, for the Realms to choose me. Choosing the Master of Space is, was, much harder.”

Clockwork turned, floating over to be closer to one of the time screens, which shifted as Danny watched.

He flinched as it resolved into an image of the beginning of the portal accident, Sam and Tucker watching as Danny stepped into the portal. The scene stayed frozen, thank the Ancients.

Danny hesitantly came closer. Clockwork wouldn’t bring this up if it wasn’t important.

“The Master of Space must have a strong connection to both the Infinite Realms, and the Mortal one. Most ghosts are connected to the Infinite Realms just by virtue of their nature, but for a ghost to be truly connected to the Mortal Realm, and not just lingering behind? It takes something special, miraculous.”

Clockwork turned to Danny, a serious look on his face “It takes a halfa.”

Danny blinked, processing that.

“But, wait, if it only takes a halfa-“ Danny cringed, unable to finish his sentence. He did not relish the idea of Vlad having the amount of power that Clockwork did, even if it was Space instead of Time.

The amount of power that Danny now had.

Clockwork chuckled, a fond look on his face.

“It’s not quite that simple, Daniel. There is one other requirement, that is the reason that none of the other halfas before you were chosen.”

Danny gave Clockwork a questioning look, receiving a smile in return.

“I was chosen first. The Master of Space, then, must be able to work with me, and I them. None of the other candidates before you were capable of that. But you were.” Clockwork said, no small amount of awe in his voice.

Danny shifted uncomfortably. It was really weird, having Clockwork be amazed by him. He didn’t like it. He preferred it when Clockwork was being cryptic and annoying, actually.

Or soft and fond, like he was sometimes.

Either of them was better than this.

Clockwork drew back, his face going back to a blank, knowing look.

“The two Masters work together to protect the Realms, Daniel. Time to guide, monitor, and correct the Timeline, and Space to correct the Realms themselves. Closing dangerous natural portals, fixing fractured lands, and manipulating any psychical aspects of Timeline maintenance.”

He let out an unneeded breath, one likely entirely for show and Danny’s benefit.

“The Realms need both of us, Daniel.” There was a desperation in his voice, one very close to the awe from earlier, if slightly bent out of shape.

Danny backed up a little, Clockwork’s intensity scaring him slightly.

This was really weird, seeing Clockwork anything but perfectly in control.

And this was a lot, but-

But.

He looked down at the staff, still clutched in his hand.

The staff felt right. The title of ‘Master of Space’ felt right. What Clockwork was saying, under the desperation, felt right.

Danny had to do it. It was his responsibility, his fate. Just like the voice, which he guessed had been the Realms, had said.

“I wouldn’t need to give up my life in Amity Park, right?” he asked, nervousness in his voice.

The look of relief on Clockwork’s face, undercut by fondness and love, is what cemented Danny’s decision.

 “Of course not, Daniel. It would help, in fact. Maintaining a strong connection to both planes is needed. All you would need to do is work with me.”

Danny took a deep breath, before looking Clockwork in the eyes, a smile on his face.

“Alright. I’ll do it.”

Clockwork returned the smile, and said “We have a lot of work to do, I admit.”

He waved a hand, shutting off the time screens.

“But we have Time.”

Danny couldn’t help himself.

 “And Space?” He asked.

Clockwork sighed, the smile still on his face.

“Yes, and Space.”

Danny grinned.

This was definitely one of the strangest things that had happened to him, including the whole Ghost King situation, but he had a feeling it was also going to be one of the best.

Clockwork opened the door out to the hallway, looking over at Danny as he did so.

“And Daniel? We will be starting with repairing that wall you broke.”

Danny groaned.

Of course they would be.

[ivys-garden]

Alright, I'm going to write my own thoughts down on the situation, sorry if this gets rambly

First of all, Shubble is so brave for speaking up, it's really hard for victims to speak up against there abusers in a public setting and she deserves all the respect in the world for it

That being said we do need to be mindful to give her space, this was a really traumatic thing for her and we all need to be mindful of that, give her room to breath.

On the same lines, don't go after other ccs for not ""releasing statements"", content creators aren't companies, there people. Don't get on at them for not publicly supporting Shubble, especially since there undoubtedly doing it in private, which is probably better than shoving it out there for millions of people to see. Let people support there friend in a way they and shubble are confortable with, if shubble wants them to say something or they think they need to say something themselves, they will say it.

It's like Pearl said, just because you don't see something happening publicly doesn't mean it isn't happening

Also, don't jump to call Tommy or Phil or Grian or anyone else enablers because they haven't said anything, they'll need time to process this too, it's hard to find out that your friend is a domestic abuser, let them process this in piece and don't try to cancel them over nothing like a fool. (People like Tommy will need time especially since Wilbur befriended them when they were young and by all accounts manipulated them too)

If anyone of these people have anything they feel they need to say they'll say it when there good and ready, good life tip folks:Don't Harass People. Especially if they have almost nothing to do with this (honestly Saw someone say they were going to go on to fucking RT about this despite him not knowing either person very well, the fuck)

I know why people do it, they want to make sure there favourite content creators aren't also bad, but they are people and they deserve respect, I can garentee you that almost no Qsmp or Hermitcraft or Other MCYT member who knew him stands with Wilbur

(Also if anyone brings Techno into this fuck right off let the man rest.)

Also, some brain dead morons are saying that people calling out wilbur are doing it for clout and that they should have done it sooner, but most of the abuse happened in private, and wilbur manipulated others, many wouldn't have realised anything was wrong and if they did its still better and more respectful to come forward after shubble since its HER story to tell.

(This attack also doesn't work anymore because we have things like tubbos stream, where he actively discourages his chat from treating him like a hero for speaking out, but yeah sure they all don't give a shit about shubble and just want to make themselves look better, fuck outta here)

Now, if your a former wilbur fan, let me make this super clear

DONT WATCH HIM AND DONT LISTEN TO HIS MUSIC

"BuT SePuRaTe ThE ArT FrOm ThE Arti-

Nah. That doesn't work here. You can separate a book or game or movie, you can't with a cc. Its there face, there voice, there personality. Find a different band, find a different CC to watch. There are other options, I know it sucks to find out someone you like did an awful thing,but that doesn't mean we should support those people for our sakes, especially when people were actively hurt by there actions. Trust me everyone, this will get better, things will go back to how they were before

Finally, this should go without saying, Fuck William Gold to the core of teh fucking earth. And any who still support him.

He is a raging egotistical manipulator and abuser. don't blame people for not seeing it sooner, no one can do that. What we can do though is blame people who still wholeheartedly support him and his actions.

He has not "changed" nor will he ever at the rate at which he's going. He's still a egomaniac who's more concerned with saving his image than actually apologising for his actions, even then an apology wouldn't fix all he's done,it would just be closer and a jumping off point to be better, but he can't even fucking do that.

If wilbur does reflect and grow, good on him, but if he doesn't then I can say with absolute certainty we wouldn't fucking miss him.

Fuck Wilbur. Support Shelbym

[noisyghost]

I found your art randomly and I have fallen into Ark obsession (and just your style in general, it’s so good 👏)

I was curious how Ark’s first transformation went? Was he prepared? I think you said in one of your posts that most people don’t survive the first transformation so was recovery from it like super brutal or did the werewolf healing kick in 🤔

Thank you for putting your work out into the world!!

thank you for the ask! he is very special 2 me so i am glad you enjoy him :)

the funny thing is that i am actually in the process of writing/illustrating a thing detailing this very incident! it's gotten way longer than it has any right to be so ive still got some work to do, but i'll answer your question and then put a little preview under the read more lol

Ark's first full moon transformation lasted about 12 hours and he thought he was dying for like 90% of it! Werewolf healing certainly helped him recover faster than human, but it still took over a month to get better, and then ofc the next full moon undid a good chunk of that healing again, so all in all it was likeeee 6-ish months before he really got to heal all the way.

And he was prepared. He knew what was going to happen and had a super powered babysitter (aka Mira, who was with him for the whole thing) and it was still one of the most traumatic nights of his life; he was not "normal" for a loooooong time after it.

To his (unfortunate) credit, his first full moon was somewhat more brutal than normal bc his werewolf form is so fuck off huge. Like. It would have sucked regardless, but turning into something that big definitely did not help!

So, yeah -- the transformation itself sucked and then the recovery sucked just as bad. And when i say "it sucked" i mean he broke bones, cracked ribs, tore muscle, etc etc, so he didn't really leave his house for months. He already had a general aversion to people touching him, but for years after this he still flinches at even the smallest thing :)

(CW for general gore/injury under the cut! this is like. somehow the least-gross section i could pull some paragraphs from lol)

She could not tell you when she passed out. With her last bit of consciousness she remembers picking up his limp body and carrying it back into the other room, completely ignoring the blood and grime covering the entirety of him as she put him back in bed.  Her sheets don’t matter. Hell, the whole damn bed doesn’t matter at this point. His skin was blanketed in a layer of cold sweat and his body lay in her arms like rubber, but the second she’d put him down, he shook beneath her like he was freezing, numbly pawing at the sheets for salvation.  He’d shrunk in size considerably and the sweltering coat of fur that’d been keeping him uncomfortably warm had all but receded back into his flesh, exposing the litany of cuts and scrapes and tears that’d cratered his skin over the course of the night. Beside each wound is a complimentary bruise, an impressionist landscape of purple and yellow and red painted across his naked body.  She’d been attentively listening to his heartbeat and breathing the entire night. At least, she’d tried to. But when the chatter of his teeth and the depths of his breathing became rhythmic over the course of an hour, she quietly lost the battle against exhaustion, passing out on the bed beside him.  There’s nothing more she could have done for him anyway. It’s a fight he knows he would have lost if the roles were reversed, so even if he was composed enough to know where he was, he wouldn’t have faulted her anyway.  The pain had become passive, a passenger to the general fatigue and malaise of illness. His head is full of cotton, sopping up every loose incoherent thought his brain tries to put together and turning it to mush. He can’t see or hear or think, and—at this point—he can barely feel, an almost gentle haze falling over him like the fog of anesthesia. So severe was the agony that it’s wrapped all the way back around to numbness; he couldn’t move a single limb if his life depended on it, his chest barely rising and falling to allow air into his tired, barely intact lungs.  If he could think in anything more than colors and shapes, he’d be reciting the mantra ‘it’s almost over, it’s almost over’. But right now, the world is little more than a soft, orange glow emanating from the dim lights scattered around her room.  For nearly twelve hours, his brain had been too wired to shut off, too manic to do anything other than gawk at the monstrosity of contorted limbs his body had become. If life was fair, he would have simply passed out and awoke when it was over. But it isn’t fair. So he had to experience the whole thing, fully conscious. Though, perhaps, not fully cognizant. And that would be for the best. 

[elderwisp]

◁ || ▷

Frances: Can you hand me the tape once you’re done?

Dan: I think I used up the last bit, maybe we can stop by the store? I need a new sharpie anyway.

Frances: Wanna go right now? I need a break.

Dan: Ye ye. Kai!

Kai: Sup.

Dan: What happened to your face??

Kai: I tried covering all of the holes but, uh, Frances you might not get the deposit back.

Frances: When do people ever get their deposit back?

Kai: Trueeeee.

-

Dan: YOO we should get a crock-pot-

Kai: Who the fuck says that, Dan?

Dan: Bitch, you’re the one that burns pre cooked fries in an air fryer. Of COURSE you wouldn’t be literate in the art of food.

Kai: OHKAYYY since when did working in fast food make you a food critic?

Dan: I don’t have to be a food critic to know you suck at cooking, right Frances? 

Frances: [ a longing sigh ]

Dan: … Frances, you okay?

Frances: Hmm? Oh, yeah, bad at cooking.

Dan: Hold up, what’s wrong?

Frances: Graduation’s coming up.

Dan: Thank god, right?

Frances: And then I leave for De Sol Valley…

Kai: Exciting! Wait, why do you look so sad?

Frances: I dunno, it’s… So far away.

Kai: Only a short two hour train ride.

Frances: And I’ll be alone.

Dan: Facetime?

Frances: I just… [ sings ] Liked this little life. 

Dan: You mean being stressed out juggling several jobs and school?

Frances: It kept me active.

Dan: Your anxiety hair literally clogged the sink multiple times.

Frances: I needed to thin it out anyway.

Dan: You’re weird.

Frances: Thanks. 

Kai: I mean, is there anything else holding you back?

Frances: I- A lot of things. I’ll sort it out though before I go.

Dan: Well, let us know if we can help you.

Kai: So, you think I can sleep in your room while you're gone?

Frances: I mean, sure but why?

Kai: I think I kind of hate being home now.

Frances: Oh?

Kai: It’s nothing serious.

Frances: Dang- Wait, hold that thought I gotta pee.

Dan: Todo bien? Everything good?

Kai: No le digas nada, pero Atlas está usando otra vez. Don’t tell her anything, but Atlas is using again. 

Dan: ¿De verdad? ¿Cómo lo sabes? Really? How do you know?

Kai: Atlas estaba mandando un mensaje a Taryn sobre eso. Hablan... mucho. Atlas was texting Taryn about it. They… Talk a lot.

Dan: Fucking hell. Did you check her phone?

Kai: It was an accident! Sort of. Look, I would prefer skydiving without a parachute instead of watching this unfold.

Dan: I mean, the good thing is he stopped, right?

Kai: I dunno but that doesn’t hide the fact that he lied.

Both: Again.

Kai: He asked her not to tell us, Dan. His friends.

Dan: Yeah, well, he hasn’t necessarily been the most open lately. 

Kai: I mean I would have thought we mattered more. 

Dan: You can’t take it personal. You know how he gets.

Kai: I just feel like eventually we’re going to get tired of it.

Dan: I’m aware. [ sighs ] Jesus, this is a mess.

Kai: Yep. By the way, he invited us to go to the skatepark, please go.

Dan: Duh. Hopefully it’s not awkward. Don’t make it awkward.

Kai: I won’t!

[blessedbucky]

ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕀𝕀𝕀

pairing: autistic!satoru x suguru x autistic!reader

word count: ........14k? oops?

summary: a glimpse at your first year in tokyo jujutsu high

tags: autistic!reader, autistic!satoru, bisexual!reader, bisexual!suguru, ableism, internalized ableism, mentioned child abuse, light bullying, satoru has some identity issues, actually EVERYONE has identity issues here, jealous and protective boys, JJK typical violence

beautiful people who asked to be tagged 💕: @ichikanu, @iceheartsice, @anders-is-being-a-simp-again

author note: um.....so....this was meant to be all three of the high school years in one chapter........but i lost control of the plot. and here we are...FOURTEEN THOUSAND WORDS LATER...and THIS WAS ONLY THE FIRST YEAR of them in high school? help me.

translation note: jiheishō is the japanese term for autism

Story Masterlist

[YEAR ONE.]

Graduation comes.

Finally.

In the months since you and Suguru were offered scholarships with Jujutsu High, word slowly spread around the school. Suguru and you have to sit on the roof for lunches to escape your growing popularity. You have no idea why these people have started to crawl out of the woodworks, but Suguru said he kind of expected it. It’s not only you two that want out of the village and you two are going to live the life that everyone else dreams of. They think they can worm their way into your lives now and leech off any future success or have an in inside Tokyo.

Still, you can’t believe how many addresses and phone numbers you’re given. There are a few that you keep, people from the art club that you joined who have always been cordial enough to you. You felt a little obligated because they pitched in to buy you a relatively nice art supply kit to continue your craft in Tokyo. The rest of the contact information is tossed in the trash, some right in front of their faces out of spite.

Meanwhile, Suguru is almost suspended.

No one can prove that Nakayama Izuru was attacked by Suguru, though. It’s not possible for a human to leave the claw marks on Nakayama’s arms. You can only imagine that saccharine smile that Suguru was wearing when he told the school staff that he saw a tanuki attack Nakayama. The only crime he committed was not getting help sooner and, for that, he apologized. Nakayama himself even admitted that he didn’t see anything or that Suguru didn’t put hands on him, but he knows Suguru was responsible somehow.

You, obviously, know better.

“Idiot,” you hiss when you and Suguru are at your usual afterschool hangout spot by the river. “That wasn’t very heroic of you. It could’ve costed you your scholarship if word got back to Tokyo.”

Suguru rolls his eyes. “It wasn’t even that bad. A cat could’ve done more damage than I did.”

You sigh. “I know we’ve always teased people with your collection, but we’ve never drawn blood. You don’t like him, never have, but I didn’t think it was that bad.” You throw a rock, trying to get it to skip across the water, but it just gives a sad plop and sinks. “What happened?”

“Remember when you and Endo got in that fight a few months ago?” You nod slowly. “It was something like that.” He’s not looking at you, but his rage still lingers. He’s usually good at skipping rocks, but not today. “Which means you can’t judge me because if you knew how to fight, you definitely would’ve. Don’t even try to pretend you wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, but I suck at keeping my mouth shut and can’t control my emotions for shit. I know I’m gonna struggle when we start high school because of that.” This isn’t a scolding. You’re just really worried because, “You’re good at letting that stuff roll off you.”

Suguru’s frown deepens. “Not about you.” If it wasn’t so quiet here, you’d have missed him whisper, “Never about you.”

“People have made fun of me before.”

“It’s different.” He presses a thumb against his forehead. “Can we drop this?”

“Well, I kinda want to know what he said. I told you what Endo said, didn’t I?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Suguru,” you sing. “I’ll keep asking. Don’t I have a right to know?”

“I was trying to be polite.” His eye is twitching irritably. “He said that he never noticed until now how nice your tits are. The nicest in our class.” You burst out in a fit of laughter. A vein throbs at his temple. Maybe this is why he didn’t want to say anything. “It’s not funny, Squid. It was disgusting. He tried to act buddy-buddy with me while I was waiting for you to get done with art club. He wanted to know if you were still a virgin or not.”

You shake your head, wiping a stray tear from your eye. “Nakayama thinks because his father owns the biggest farm that he’s worth something. Not even Endo would date him and she’s the most popular girl in school.” You crouch down to rummage for some skipping stones. “Hey, if we’re still virgins by the end of high school, want to take each other’s virginities?”

It’s like all the fight rushes out of him, the way Suguru sighs and how his shoulders slump in defeat. “You shouldn’t say things like that.” His neck, the tips of his ears, his entire face…it’s all so red. It’s rare to find, but there are some things that go too far. You open your mouth to apologize, but he interrupts. “You promise?”

“I promise.” You give one of the stones you find a few tosses, making sure it’s light enough. “I kind of always thought it would be you, anyway. Now that we’re leaving the village, you’ll get super popular at this new school, so I doubt you’ll be single by the time we graduate, but this is on the off chance that you are.” He tilts his head back, staring up at the skies. That’s his existential crisis face. “I’m sorry. Was that too far?”

“I always thought it would be you, too,” he admits quietly. “I guess…you’re making it sound so transactional.”

Right. Girls say that the first time is supposed to be special. “I can try to make it special for you, if it happens. I don’t really understand what special means, but I’ll try.”

Suguru shakes himself out of his thoughts. “I’ll make it special, don’t worry.”

“Don’t think about it too much. You’ll definitely get a boyfriend or girlfriend.”

“It could be the other way around, y’know.”

You scoff. “Where we’re going…seeing the spirits is normal. So, everyone there will be normal. That’s when my weirdness is really going to shine. You’re used to it. Do you think someone is willingly going to deal with my stupid habits and quirks? How do I even explain to another person that even seeing cotton balls makes my teeth hurt?” You shake your head. “I’m already high enough maintenance for you and you’re my best friend. It’d be worse for a boyfriend or girlfriend, wouldn’t it?”

Suguru says your name. You look over at him and he’s sad. “You’re not high maintenance.”

“You’re my best friend. You’re obligated to say that.”

“No, I’m not. You know I’m honest with you. Would you like an example of my honesty? Here’s one—you’re so blind that, sometimes, it amazes me.”

You throw a rock at the vicinity of his feet. He moves to dodge it. “Rude.”

Non-sorcerer students are required to move on campus two weeks before school starts. There will be some informal classes on the most basic of jujutsu basics to give you somewhat a foundation. In yours and Suguru’s cases, Yaga lies to both your parents and has someone come pick you and your things up three weeks before school starts.

At the nearest relatively big city, Yaga makes the driver stop. He practically shoves food down your throats, lecturing the entire time about the importance of eating to make up for the massive amounts of energy that you’ll be burning by using cursed energy and fighting spirits.

Then, he forces you both to choose cell phones.

You and Suguru, obviously from very humble means, protest. None of them are cheap. Yaga shuts you down and declares this as yet another requirement. Essentially, you’ll always be on-call, especially as you become a more seasoned sorcerer. You need a way to communicate with others and be communicated with in return. Yaga mutters something under his breath before he heads outside to take a smoke break with the driver.

“He’ll probably yell at us if we go for the cheapest thing,” Suguru mutters as he looks around the store.

“Something in the middle, then,” you agree.

In your defense, you do get something that’s not the most expensive. There wasn’t any mention about the design or color. It called to you, okay? You could take or leave the color, but the almost metallic shine of it. It’s so sleek and smooth. The number keys are nearly flat and it’s satisfying to run your fingers over the slight bump of them.

Yaga doesn’t even bat an eye when you hand over the hot pink flip phone. He simply takes what you’ve chosen, takes Suguru’s chunky option, and goes to the counter to pay for them and set up your new numbers. You and Suguru stand there, almost with bated breath.

It’s hard to believe that the school is investing so much money into you both already. Yaga didn’t even mention this coming out of your monthly stipend. A stipend, by the way, that you and Suguru weren’t aware of until you were on the road. You’d asked if you needed to tell your parents because that seemed like a pretty important thing for Yaga to forget. Yaga had shrugged and, casual as anything, said, “it’s your money now. Tell whoever you want about it.”

And, as easy as it was then for him, it is now because Yaga hands you your phones back, numbers on some paperwork, and that’s it. He walks out of the store and gets in the car. You and Suguru share a look of disbelief before you scramble to follow after him and climb in the back of the car.

It’s still a drive to a train station that will take you the rest of the way to Tokyo. The driver turns the music up. You and Suguru immediately duck your heads down, heads knocking together, voices hushed as you marvel over your new phones. You can’t stop rubbing your thumb over the smooth surface. Suguru isn’t the type to get distracted by something like texture, so he’s already clicking through it to add your phone number.

“Add me,” he demands. “What? Were you blinded by that gaudy color?”

“Like you have room to talk,” you shoot right back at him. “That’s got a MP3 built into it.”

“Are you the only one here that can be an enjoyer of the arts?”

“You could’ve kept using the radio.” You’re already a little sad. It’s a favorite pastime—you and Suguru, sprawled out on the floor, listening to the radio. Maybe you can save up for one. “Whatever. You better share the headphones whenever you figure out how to put music on that thing.”

“You better use your phone as a SOS if we’re ever lost.”

The only response to that is your harrumph and grabbing your backpack off the floor. Suguru goes back to his phone as you pull out your pencil and sketchbook. It’s a bumpy road. You already have a sketch of Hong, but maybe you’ll just do another rough one to fill the time. You flip through the pages upon pages of new and old cursed spirits that Suguru now holds, trying to find an open spot. There’s not much room left. Mother hates to buy you sketchbooks, seeing it as indulging your abnormality.

“You’re a talented artist,” Yaga commends. You pull the sketchbook against your chest instinctively. Yaga doesn’t acknowledge the action. Just asks, “Are those the cursed spirits that you’ve seen?” You lower the sketchbook back down in your lap, nodding shyly. “May I?”

You usually hide your sketchbook away from the eyes of others because classmates and adults were easily disturbed by what they thought were figments of your imagination. It’s going to take time to get over this surrealism that comes from everyone seeing the things you can and treating it as if it’s normal. So, you hesitantly hold out your sketchbook for him to take. You’re nervous as you watch him flip through the pages.

“These notes…you study them?” Yaga correctly assumes.

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Um…they can’t see me unless I want them to,” you explain slowly. “I can make them calm, too.”

“How have you been destroying them?”

“We don’t,” Suguru answers on your behalf. “I eat them.”

Yaga’s eyes widen. “You…eat them?”

“Maybe a better way to say it is that I absorb them,” Suguru corrects. “After that, I can summon them whenever I want.”

Yaga tries to hide it, but he seems…shaken. He glances back down at your sketchbook, quickly thumbing through the pages. “Is this all that you’ve taken down together? Is this how many you’ve swallowed, Geto?”

Suguru takes the sketchbook back from Yaga. Suguru is a lot more familiar with your sketches, but he skims through the pages once again. “I think this is about right,” he finally answers Yaga. “There might be more in my arsenal. Sometimes, we find spirits on our own or she doesn’t want to sketch whatever we find.”

“Right.” Yaga is nodding to himself. “We’ll explore your individual techniques more when the term starts.”

You’re allowed a few days to unpack and acquaint yourselves with campus before you’re taken to be fitted for your new school uniforms.

“Whatever I want?”

The tailor nods. “It’s important that you be comfortable and be in clothes that are easy for you to move in. It goes without saying that you’re a representation of the school, so you can’t be indecent, but that is your only condition,” she explains. “I’ll check-in with you after your first assignment to make sure your uniform doesn’t need any further adjustments. Also, the uniform expenses aren’t deducted from your stipend. This is on the school’s budget.”

The second that the tailor shows you the standard uniform, you turn your nose up at it. You rub the fabric between your fingers, examining it critically. The fabric, you think you could deal with, but if you can throw out the blazer then you’ll immediately jump on that chance. You’ve always preferred baggy clothes, so you shop a size or two too large. Your mother never complained because that meant your clothes lasted longer. So, you think about your wardrobe. Think about what your go-to clothes are when you’re not in a stiff school uniform.

After giving it some thought while your measurements are taken, you decide on a skirt, thin tights, and a hooded sweatshirt.

It’s an outfit that you can justify. The skirt will allow for freer movement. Tights, if they’re thin enough fabric, don’t really bother you because they’re like a second skin. The sweatshirt won’t have the same restrictive sleeves that the blazer does. Lastly, if you’re overwhelmed after assignments then you can hide under your hood.

The tailor accepts the design and tells you that she’ll call when the uniform is ready.

You’re thankful that Suguru is so tall because you’d have panicked otherwise if you stepped outside the tailor shop and couldn’t see him in front of a shop across the street. Your brows raise when you see that it’s a small tattoo shop. Outside the door, there’s a binder on a stand that must have their services and examples from their portfolio. Suguru isn’t looking at the tattoos. No, he seems to be carefully considering the section with ear piercings.

And, honestly, you’re not surprised.

“That school trip to Osorezan really left an impression on you, huh?”

It’d been the first year of middle school that your class went on a trip to Osorezan, believed to be the entrance to the afterlife. It was a religious, historical, and scientific field trip all wrapped into one since the Bodaiji temple is inside the caldera of an active volcano. The high amounts of sulfur gave the waters varying shades of blue. The land was gray and barren. But there was also a hot spring. Statues were littered around the area to represent the souls of the dead.

Just going off the limited knowledge that Yaga gave you, it makes sense that there were so many cursed spirits there. It’s a place of reverence, sure, but people probably go there out of desperation, too. On some level, it might be feared—whether because of the lore or the volcano near it.

It was an overnight trip. You and Suguru hadn’t slept a fucking wink. It was amazing. You’d adored it because of the nature and science. Suguru fell in love with the history and spirituality.

“Shut up.” The tips of his ears are red. “The tailor said there’s no dress code. Yaga said the only rule is to not bring too much attention to the school.” He rubs at his ear lobe. “It looks really cool, doesn’t it?”

“I think you’re being a stereotypical smalltown kid that’s going wild in the big city,” you deadpan.

“Well, I’m doing it. If it bothers you so much then stay out here,” he says primly.

You’ve started to flip through the pages of piercings. “No, no.” There’s one thing that caught your eye. You touch the picture of a tongue piercing. “Just think it’s a little funny that as soon as your feet stepped down in Tokyo, you went running.” Do your eyes glaze over when you think about running the little metal ball of a piercing across your teeth? Maybe. “I want this one.”

“Eh? I’m just getting gauges. You’re getting way wilder than me. You understand that, right?” Suguru is grinning as he grabs your wrist. “Let’s go.”

A week later, your tongue has healed enough that you finally learn to talk around it. Just as you suspected, the urge to roll it between your teeth is hard to pin down while you let it fully heal. It’ll be another three to five weeks. Yaga never said a word about it when you both showed up to a classroom the next day. All he did was throw some textbooks at you both and got to lecturing.

You guess you need to start thinking of him as sensei.

Suguru talks about you being a huge nerd, but he’s the one that’s in the school library, trying to dive deeper into…everything that you’ve learned, basically. Despite the fact that you’ll be spending the next three years gaining more knowledge about the jujutsu world. He’s always been like that—impatient when he’s eager. Well…maybe he picked that up from you.

Anyway, you left him behind to enjoy the weather and view. If you’re not with Suguru, you’re enjoying the view. The campus is nestled on a mountain outside Tokyo. It’s got the kind of scenery that inspires a person. This is the first time, probably ever, that you draw things that are not cursed spirits. That’s what you’re doing now. You have an urge to draw the contrast of the bright red torii gate against the lush, green foliage.

You almost lose your art supplies to gravity when someone rushes in front of you. Not that you’d say anything, but you can send them a shitty look. You’re a little more forgiving when you see their vision is blocked by a big box. Another person follows with another equally big box follows after that person. You blink and look in the direction of where they’re coming from.

A group has made their way to the top of the staircase that leads up to the school.

They are…very bright.

Almost everyone in the small group has blinding white hair and blue eyes. Not only that, but they are also dressed in traditional clothes that you know are expensive. The colors are vibrant. Just from here, you can tell just one of those kimonos probably costs more than your childhood house. Every woman in the group has a gold kanzashi in their hair with a dangling charm in the form of a…is that a dragonfly?

Off to the side of this group, though, is a boy your age. Same white hair and blue eyes, yes, but he’s dressed so casually that it’s almost obscene next to the rest of his people. Just a white shirt, pair of basketball shorts, and some sneakers. Thismust be one of your two classmates. Yaga said there would be another boy and girl enrolling. And…he must be moving on campus early. You wonder why. Clearly, those people are his family and they’re loaded. Why on earth would he want to leave home early?

The classmate stops and turns to stare at you dead-on. Don’t come over here, don’t come over here, don’t come over here, you silently plead. You weren’t prepared to deal with other people yet. It’s still a new place and new information is constantly getting thrown at you and you just don’t have the mental energy to deal with strangers.

Fate is not on your side, though, and your classmate closes the distance between you and him.

You’re wary when he’s right in front of you. If you weren’t desensitized by Suguru, this guy’s height would definitely intimidate you a lot more. You’re still nervous which could be because he’s really close to you physically. Your body tenses, instinctively preparing for unwanted touch.

“Show me around.”

“Huh?”

“Show me around,” he repeats.

Okay. You’re not sure what you expected. Normally, people give a little context when you question what they say. “I’m new, too. Our sensei is here, though. His name is Yaga.” You tilt your head slightly. “I can go grab him instead.”

“I asked you. You’re one of those shy types, right? Probably not good with talking to hot guys? I figure you won’t talk while we walk around the place.” He says all that…so casually. “I’ve had that hag back there in my ear all day. I got a headache. If you wanna keep talking, though, I’ll just go find someone else.”

“The only other person here will tell you to fuck off if you go around making demands like this,” you state bluntly. Actually, you wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up punching this guy in the nose. “Look, I come off as rude, too, but you should maybe think a little longer before you speak.” Oh, no. You sounded like Suguru just now.

The guy squints at you. “Who the hell are you? Where you from? Do you not know who I am?”

Oh. Yaga warned you and Suguru about this in a roundabout way. The jujutsu world is super traditional. There are these three clans that have been around for hundreds and hundreds of years, so they’re really respected. They’re competitive with each other and try to pump out more talented sorcerers. They tend to turn their nose up at people like you and Suguru who have no hint of sorcery in your family or ancestry.

You give him your name, the prefecture you came from, and then answer with a curt, “No, I don’t know who you are. Should I?”

He clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes. “So…you’re a hick. That’s what your deal is?” Hmm, well, he’s technically not wrong about that. “Whatever. I’m Gojo Satoru. You can ask the Yaga guy about how important I am later. Can we go now?”

You could not follow Gojo when he walks past you, but his…family or whatever is taking up the space that you were going to use for your art. Also, you can sympathize with needing an excuse to get away from a large group of people, especially when you’re overwhelmed. Not saying that Gojo is, but he did mention a headache.

So, you and Gojo take a stroll.

It’s quiet, aside from the sounds of nature and your footfalls. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his head turn in your direction. What? Is he shocked that you respected his wish to be quiet? You don’t want to force a conversation.

After maybe half an hour of walking, you declare, “I think we’re far away enough that you don’t need me anymore.” You point at the bench in front of a pond that you purposely led yourselves to. “So, I’m going to do what I was going to do.” You give a polite half-hearted bow. “It was nice to meet you. I look forward to working with you in the future.”

Suguru texts as soon as you sit down, asking where you went off to. You’re terrible with directions, so you send him a shot of the pond and the building closest to it. You don’t mention Gojo. You’ll tell him about it later. Your fingers glide over the hard cover of the new sketchbook and the fresh, crisp, blank page that you turn to. You treat this sketchbook carefully because it’s the nicest you’ve ever seen.

Yaga said that it was very important to nurture your curiosity in understanding cursed spirits, so it was a more than worthy investment to get you sketchbooks. The more knowledge that you gain about the jujutsu world, the deeper your understanding of them goes, and that can be helpful to the jujutsu world. No one has ever had an ability like yours that he knows of, Yaga had told you privately. Knowledge of cursed spirits is only gained in the heat of battle or the aftermath of death. Your pacification abilities allow the study of cursed spirits without the bloodshed.

In that meeting, you’d tried to make Yaga see some sense. You’re some nobody from nowhere with a weird fixation on drawing the cursed spirits. He has all these big aspirations for you, but you highly doubt that you can live up to them. It wasn’t even about the sketchbook at that point. Suguru’s technique is the one that will change the world.

With you and Suguru, I think your techniques have skewed your worldviews. Suguru has shown me some of his higher-grade spirits. Exorcising those would be bloody work for anyone else. Your technique is more suited for a supportive role, yes, but don’t dismiss your power. It’s a trickle-down effect—you’ll save the lives of fellow sorcerers who will go on to exorcise spirits that saves the lives of current and future non-sorcerers.

You’d definitely cried after that conversation with Yaga. No one has ever wanted to…foster your interest like this. Setting aside how disturbed they were by the content that you drew, they saw no use in it. It was fine as a child, but in the past year or so, they had outright started to scold you for not putting the pencil down. You were the daughter of farmers and would never be famous for your art, so you needed to invest in better skills. Even your art teacher wanted to censor you and told you that any drawings needed to be school-appropriate.

More dedicated than ever, you’ve been almost obsessive with drawing.

“Oi.”

You’ve literally only drawn the rough shape of the pond. You try not to sigh or let your irritation at being interrupted show on your face when you tilt your head up. “Yes?”

“What if I did want a tour?”

It was obvious from the get-go that Gojo is a blunt person, so you don’t lie out of politeness. “I still get lost, so I’m the wrong person to ask. Like I said before, go ask Sensei.” You drop your attention to your lap and start sketching again. “Besides, I’m not good at talking to people.”

“It’s not like we have to chat. Just tell me the buildings.”

“Didn’t you say you have a headache?”

“Yeah, but I always have a headache.” That’s…alarming. You look back up at him, concerned. He shrugs and says, “Six Eyes,” as if you have any idea what that is supposed to mean. “Ugh. Right. Small town girl or whatever.” Then, he tries to dismiss it all with, “It’s a Gojo clan thing. I have special eyes that make my technique better, but the cost is migraines.”

Oh. It’s like Suguru’s technique, then. In the sense that there’s a massive blowback. Suguru has told you about the taste of curses and how disgusting doesn’t even come close to describing how awful it is. He tries to pretend that the taste is the only bad thing about it, but there’s a reason why he would wait until night to eat them where he could lay down immediately after. He’s even admitted that he would eat them to make his body forget about its hunger.

You’re sympathetic to the sensitivity. There are days when an overcast is still too bright. You bought a pair of sunglasses while you were out with Suguru, but…you can always get more. You have a whole monthly stipend now. Also, you got your uniform and you’re wearing it, so you can use the hood if the light is too much.

“Here.” You pull the sunglasses from where they’re perched on the top of your head. They’re a simple pair with thin silver frame and blue, circular lenses. Gojo looks between you and the sunglasses that you have held out. You hesitate. “What? Are they too girly or something?”

“Uh…no. I…” He looks genuinely perplexed. “You don’t know who I am. Why are you giving me these?”

“My senses are stupidly delicate, too. I know what having a bad day feels like. I don��t need these today, so you can have them. I can go buy new ones if I need them.” Oh! You remember something important and inform him, “I’ve worn them inside and Yaga doesn’t care, so you’re good on that front.”

Gojo takes the sunglasses from you but doesn’t put them on yet. “Inside?”

Oops. “Sorry. I forgot that people are weird about sunglasses inside.” You tap your pencil against the sketchbook, trying to figure out how to say what you want to. “I don’t really understand what the issue there is. Sunglasses are designed to help when it’s too bright. Inside can be as bright as outside, so I’m just using them for their intended purpose. That’s how I see it.” Oops again. You started rambling. “I’ll take them back if you don’t want them. You didn’t seem like the type to care about the opinions of others, is all.”

“No, I want them.” He yanks them away when you try to take them back. “I—”

“Hey!”

Suguru’s normally soft voice raising like that makes you yelp and jump in your seat. You whip your head around to see him storming toward you, fists and jaw clenched. You’re alarmed to see him so visibly angry. You scramble to stand up and meet him in the middle. “Suguru?”

“Aren’t you too old to be picking on people?” Suguru asks with narrowed eyes. He’s looking over your head, at Gojo. “Give those back to her.”

Oh! Now, you understand. To someone else, it would look like Gojo stole your sunglasses and is trying to keep them away to be a bully.

“Suguru, no. It’s okay—”

“Heh!” Gojo’s cocky laugh makes you angle your body so you can look between them both. He smirks smugly and makes a show of putting on your sunglasses. “Who are you? Mommy?” Gojo shoves his hands in his pockets, feigning nonchalance. “I didn’t steal them, so calm down, mama bear.” Gojo points at Suguru while asking you, “This the guy that’s gonna tell me to fuck off if I don’t find some manners?”

“I’m certainty thinking about it right now,” Suguru sneers. His anger simmers back down and he goes back to his polite yet cool indifference. He ignores Gojo’s obvious baiting and moves his attention to you. “Is that true? Did you give those to him?” You nod. Suguru frowns. “You just bought those.”

“I was trying to be nice to our new classmate.” Suguru’s brow twitches in irritation—probably over the knowledge that this is one of your two classmates. Gojo has not made a good first impression, to say the least. “It’s no big deal. I can buy some new ones when we go to the konbini.”

“Eh? I want to go!” Gojo whines.

Suguru forces a polite smile. “You should stay here. I’m sure that Sensei will have some things to go over with you.”

“I don’t know how to get back. Sketch here was showing me around.”

“Sketch?” Suguru and you repeat, in unison.

“Yeah! Sketch!” Gojo motions towards your sketchbook that you left on the bench. “Because you’re an artsy girl.”

“You should know someone longer than an hour before you go giving them nicknames,” Suguru lectures.

Gojo cocks his head to the side, genuinely confused. “Should you?”

“Yes. Otherwise, it’s just being presumptuous.”

“Ask the lady, then.” Gojo hunches over, prowling toward you with a mischievous grin, getting very close to your face with his. “You don’t mind it, do you…” He lifts his head, purposely baiting Suguru when he adds, “…Sketch?”

Now, you may not be the best at social cues or reading the room, but even you know that whatever you say is going to be the wrong thing. Do you actually care about the nickname thing? No. Also, is Suguru forgetting that he literally gave you the Squid nickname only after a week? Sure, you were both six and he forgot your name, but the point stands.

“I think I’m in the middle of a dick measuring contest,” you muse aloud. Suguru sighs in exasperation while Gojo gives a delighted laugh. “I’m going to walk away now.”

“Yes. We should go,” Suguru agrees through gritted teeth.

As you and Suguru are walking away, after you’ve gathered all your things up, Gojo loudly asks, “Aren’t you gonna introduce yourself?”

Suguru understands, on some level, that it would be beneficial to get along with your peers since there’s only going to be four of you in the whole class. That’s why you’ve indulged Gojo’s…neediness? Entitlement? Whatever it is. And Suguru won’t be as nice as you—which is ironic because he’s usually the polite one—but he does turn around and introduce himself with a curt, “I’m Geto Suguru.”

“Gojo Satoru,” Gojo shoots back cockily. “Aren’t you going to tell me how much you look forward to working with me?”

“No.” Ah. Suguru’s patience has reached its end. “We’re leaving now.”

It’s not until about a week later, one week before the term starts, that you actually see Gojo on campus. This isn’t to say that you’re not painfully aware of what Gojo has been up to. Because what his purpose in life seems to be right now is to dig his way under Suguru’s skin. While in separate rooms, they still share communal spaces—kitchen, showers, laundry. Suguru tries to stay in his room, but they’re bound to run into each other, and when they do…

Well, you learn that there are alarms imbued in the protective barrier around campus that blare when a cursed spirit is detected within. Spirits from Suguru’s collection are no exception. That unexpected noise had you in a panic. Suguru and Gojo had an extremely long lecture and were forced to clean the already pristine classrooms as punishment.

You’re making your rounds on the track. Sensei recommended it since you’re not nearly as in shape as Suguru. He was trusted to work in the fields back home way more than you were. The most that you were trusted to do was wash picked crops. You weren’t even allowed to pick out the bad crops because you took too long. You’re a perfectionist and kept questioning if you should let a crop slip through or not.

Gojo plops down on the stone staircase that leads down to the track and field. You feel like you should ignore him out of loyalty to Suguru, but you can’t do that here. You have to try and get along with your classmates. You leave the lectures to Sensei and hope that Suguru’s temper will cool down with time. Also…Gojo is waving a second popsicle in the air to get your attention and it’s really tempting. Too tempting.

You wordlessly take the popsicle and examine the flavor. It’s red bean. You’re instantly wary. “Did you get the same?” Gojo flashes the reddish tinted popsicle in answer. He shoves it back in his mouth before you can get a good look. Fine. You’ll just ask outright. “Does it have pieces of red beans in it?”

Gojo scowls. You think you’ve offended him for asking too many questions about his gift, but it turns out that he’s actually upset about something else entirely. “No! Ew! What am I? A heathen?” His nose scrunches up in disgust. “Dude, that’s so gross. Who like chunks in their ice cream? The whole point is for it to be creamy and smooth!”

You almost sigh in relief. “I think sprinkles are okay, but…yeah. Everything else is too much.”

“Ugh, no. Sprinkles are too chalky. They leave this…eh…it’s like a film kind of feeling on my teeth. I hate it. I have to scoop it off any desserts which pisses me off more because I love whipped cream and I’m losing it to fucking sprinkles.”

You nod sagely. “A waste of good food.”

“Thank you! You get it!” Gojo sighs dramatically. “You’re so much cooler than your boyfriend, Sketch!”

“Because I agreed with you about dessert preferences? Also, Suguru isn’t my boyfriend. He’s my best friend. We’ve lived in the same village all our lives. There was no one else like us. People that could see cursed spirits, I mean.”

Gojo is still wearing the sunglasses that you gave him. You can’t tell that he’s looking you over until he allows them to slip down the bridge of his nose. “Really? He acts like a possessive boyfriend, though.”

You rub the back of your neck. “We’re protective of each other because of…other private stuff.” You know not to put Suguru’s relationship with his parents on blast. “Oh, and he says he’s not, but I think he’s protective because of my diagnosis.”

“Diagnosis?”

“Jiheishō,” you answer casually between licks of your popsicle. “I was always weird as a baby and a toddler. Then, I talked about seeing things, and that pushed my parents over the edge. They took me to a doctor, and I got diagnosed.”

“Huh. What’s that like?”

“I don’t know. It’s who I am. How do you explain being?” You pause. “I would say that you could ask Suguru since he’s on the outside looking in, but…you’re being an annoying dick to him.”

Gojo cackles. “But he makes it so easy!”

“I’m not one to assume because it’s hard to know what people think or I don’t understand them the right way, but…have you ever tried to make friends before? If I didn’t already know that you have to go to a school, I’d ask if you’ve even been around other people your age. This isn’t how you get along with your peers.”

He scoffs. “Why do I need to get along with my peers? Why do I need friends?”

“Because it’s lonely and miserable without them?”

“Ha! You ever stop to think that it’s lonely and miserable with them?” There’s a bitter twist to his mouth. He nudges the sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose, hiding his eyes away. “I mean, you said it, didn’t you? It’s such a chore to figure out how other people work and what they’re thinking. Normies are too…normal. Clan kids are only sucking up because my clan is the most powerful. It’s stupid and complicated. Why bother?”

Oh. That’s…sad…and also way too relatable. Your expression softens. “Those aren’t friends, though. You know that, right? I guess my opinion might not count because I only have one friend, but…he’s made my life better. I like to think that I’ve made his better, too.” He sticks his tongue out in disgust. You shrug. “It’s true. He’s been the only person that listens to me when I can’t shut up about art styles or cursed spirits because I’m really interested in those. I can be me around him.”

“You’re probably not as annoying as you think you are,” he dismisses. “Now, I’m annoying. I can’t shut up about Digimon.”

“You’re probably not as annoying as you think you are,” you repeat mockingly. He flips you off and you smirk in response. “Do you want to talk about it with me? I’ll listen. It sounds like you’ve been around shitty people that don’t want to hear about things that make you happy.”

Gojo is actually…hesitant. That makes you even sadder. You know this all too well. “I yap a lot. Seriously.”

You make yourself laugh past the hurt you feel out of sympathy for him. “I’ve got my sketchbook with me. I’ll show you what real yapping is.”

It’s the right thing for you to say. Putting a competitive spin on it makes it easier for Gojo to be open, it seems. “Oh, you are so on, Sketch.” He rises to his feet with a renewed excitement. “You should come help me finish unpacking! I have a lot of Digimon stuff, so it’ll be easier to explain everyone with that!”

“Eh? Are girls allowed—”

Gojo doesn’t hear you. He snatches you by the wrist and you stumble to keep up with him. You’re halfway to the boys’ dorm before he finally listens when you tell him that he left your sketchbook behind. You watch him sprint back toward the track, still trying to figure out how the hell you ended up here.

Suguru loves to read, but not manga. There was only one television in your house that your parents always had control of, so they never let you watch anime. Obviously, you know that Digimon is a manga and anime. It’s big like Pokémon. You know there are little creatures, but that’s about the extent of it.

Gojo changes that.

It’s a little confusing, sure, but you like hearing people talk about the things they like. Maybe it’s because you’re so used yourself to the rejection of being shut down because you’re boring people by talking about the same thing or overwhelming them with talking too much or liking weird things. You don’t want other people to feel like that. It was obvious from Gojo’s demeanor that it’s something he’s experienced, too.

As you look at all the figurines and manga and plushies, you wonder if his family threw money at this thing he likes and left him alone with it all. You don’t think he would be so cynical about other people if he had support from his family. Would you be okay if you parents paid for the most expensive art supplies in the world and left you to it? You prefer to be alone, but…isn’t this special interest more special when you can share it with someone?

“Squid?”

You and Gojo are both in the middle of his room, on the floor, and currently have your faces shoved against his little plushies that are shaped like the first evolution of the original Digimon set. It’s so soft and squishy. Gojo is really proud of finding them and you can’t blame him. It’s cool that he’s not afraid to have cute things like this like a lot of guys are.

“Oh. Hey, Suguru.” You look over your shoulder at him, a little nervous. Before he can grill you about being alone with his unofficial rival, you quickly explain, “I’m getting informed about Digimon.” You spin around on your ass, shoving the plushy out. “Come feel this. It’s so soft.”

Suguru scowls. “No.”

“No is right!” Gojo loudly agrees. “He’s not allowed to the nice stuff!”

“Girls aren’t allowed in our dorm,” Suguru says more to Gojo than you.

“It’s fine until dark. I already asked Yaga.”

Suddenly, there’s a tension in Suguru’s shoulders. His jaw clenches and his eyes narrow at Gojo. “Why do you know that?”

“Shouldn’t you be happy about this news?” Gojo shoots back, a clear deflection. “You can hang out with her now.”

Suguru presses a thumb to the center of his forehead. He holds that position, trying to calm himself down. When he does, he moves his attention back to you. “He didn’t pressure you to come in here, did he?”

Before Gojo can open his mouth, you swing the plushy back to hit him. The way he sputters and Suguru’s proud smirk is a sign that you hit him right in the face. “I can make decisions on my own,” you tell Suguru which wipes that little smirk right off his face. “We’re doing a show and tell…kind of. You should bring your headphones and let us listen to your music!”

“I didn’t consent to this!” Gojo complains.

This going back and forth is a little annoying, so you angle your body to face them both. To Gojo, you say, “Okay, that’s your call. This is your stuff, after all.” To Suguru, you ask, “Um…I’ll meet you in an hour? We can listen to your music then. Does that sound good?”

Gojo groans. The excitement to share outweighs his need to annoy Suguru because he concedes with an exasperated, “Fine! He can come hang out!”

“Fine,” Suguru agrees with the same amount of annoyance.

But, hey, a win is a win.

The last of your class moves in a few days before the semester starts. It’s early in the morning when she does, so the noise in the hallway startles you awake, and you go stumbling out of your room without a second thought to how you’re dressed. Your door opening catches your roommate’s attention and she’s looking in your direction when you walk in her line of sight.

Both of you stare wordlessly at one another. There’s a beauty mark under the corner of her eye that catches your attention before anything else. Her brunette hair is cut short, barely past her chin, and her bangs are swept to the side. You’re watched by curious, brown eyes. At first glance, you think she’s got a cigarette in her mouth, but it doesn’t have the filter on the end. It might be one of those chalky candy sticks.

“Oh! You’re so pretty!” You blurt the words out before your sleep-addled brain can catch them. Heat crawls up the back of your neck and the tips of your ears. “Sorry!”

She laughs good-naturedly. “What? Should I be offended by a pretty girl giving me compliments?” And how…do you react to that? No one has ever called you pretty before. She unintentionally throws you a bone by moving the conversation somewhere else with her name. “I’m Ieiri Shoko. Nice to meet you.”

You give her your name, bow, and the same polite, “Nice to meet you, too. I look forward to working with you.”

“We’re living together now. You don’t need to be all formal.” It’s a force of habit. You learned quickly as a child that the world revolves around politeness and manners. “Sorry for waking you.”

“That’s okay.” You hesitate. “Do you need help?”

“Please. My parents bailed. I’m lucky they even had the time to drop me off. Not sure how they even had the time to pop me out with how busy they are at the hospital.”

You’re rolling up your sleeves as you walk over to her door. “They’re…doctors?”

“Surgeons, yeah,” she answers casually. “Makes sense that I ended up with the technique that I did, even if no sorcerer in our family has ever had it. We’ve always been big on healing, or so my parents have told me.”

“What’s your technique?”

“Reverse Cursed Technique, but I can use it on myself and others. It’s rare to extend it to other people.” Your blank expression has her chuckling. “You’re from a non-sorcerer family, huh?”

Your face is back to being hot again. “Sorry. Sensei…um…I don’t think he went over that yet.”

“I’m not sure that he will. It’s advanced. Even among the best, strongest sorcerers, it’s a rare skill. Baby sorcerers only know about it because it’s a thing to aspire to, y’know?”

Whoa. “What is it? You must be really powerful, right?”

Ieiri laughs. “No way. Reverse Cursed Technique alone is healing yourself. Like I said, I can take it further and heal others. Oh, and I have this…ability to find disturbances in the mind and body.” Then, she puts her ability in practice. “I know you got your tongue pierced.”

Your fingers fly up to touch your lips. “And you think that’s not powerful?”

“Flatterer.” Between all your back and forth with her, you’ve both gotten all the boxes inside her room. She flops down on the bare mattress. “What’s your technique?”

“Nothing as cool or useful as yours, I think.” You rock back and forth on your feet nervously. “They don’t see me unless I want them to. Also, I can pacify them. Nothing more than that. I only make them calm.”

“Guess we’ll both be saving lives.” There it is again. Someone can see more purpose in your technique than you can. Your brain just can’t compute with that. You’ll just…stand there and pacify spirits. It seems like so little to save actual lives. “Are our other classmates here yet? Have you met them?”

“Yes. One of them is my best friend, actually. His name is Geto Suguru. We came from the same village and he’s from a non-sorcerer family, too. Please be patient with both of us. And our other classmate is Gojo Satoru—” Ieiri groans loudly. You smile meekly. “I guess you know that his family is important?”

“If you have even a hint of sorcery in your family, you know about the big three clans, so, yeah, I know. My parents have never been active sorcerers, but they’re in the know of the community. No one has been able to shut up about the Gojo heir since he was born. I think my parents said it’s been…hundreds of years since someone was born with the Six Eyes?”

You nod. “Right. He said something about that. They’re special.”

“That’s an understatement.” There’s a lull in the conversation and, in the silence, you hear a familiar noise. It didn’t come from you. Ieiri laughs, no hint of shame at her stomach outing her. “I guess since I woke you up that you haven’t had breakfast. Want to grab something to eat? My parents didn’t give me time to eat.”

Your brows furrow. “They’re doctors. Shouldn’t they be more worried about your nutrition?”

Ieiri just starts laughing.

The school term starts.

Suguru and Gojo still aren’t getting along well. It almost seems worse because when actual schoolwork starts, they’re essentially tied on their marks. In regard to their techniques, while Gojo has more cursed energy, Suguru has more refined control. Suguru also takes to martial arts extremely well and Gojo, who you’re sure has been touched even less than you have, is almost always overcome when they spar. Gojo is faster than Suguru and is learning to use that to an advantage.

As for you and Ieiri, you hope that she likes her as much as you like her. It’s…easy to be around her. You admit that you had a lot of issues with her deadpan sense of humor, but she seemed to catch on quickly and now will usually tell you if she’s joking or being sarcastic. There are also some hiccups with food because you two share cooking duty, but she starts learning what textures you hate and which you love.

In your studies, you do okay, but you’re last in the class. If Ieiri wasn’t so lazy, she’d give the guys a run for their money. You are a lot more in shape than her despite your larger size and you lay her out flat in sparring. Yaga declared that you and she would be mostly non-combatant sorcerers due to the nature of your techniques, but he insisted that you and she learn martial arts for self-defense. Actually, you’re more in shape than Gojo even. Suguru is leagues ahead of you, obviously, because he’s so much more coordinated and stronger.

About a month in, you’re given your first assignment.

And by you what you actually mean is yourself and Gojo.

In the last few years, the number of cursed spirits has been steadily increasing. There are two separate incidents with relatively low-level curses and all the higher-grade sorcerers are occupied with higher-level curses, so you and your classmates are split up in teams of two.

Suguru was not happy about the pairings, but Yaga said that you and Suguru know how to work well together already. Then, kind of bitchily, Yaga explained that if Suguru and Gojo got along better then Yaga would’ve simply had them handle both batches themselves. Later, you try to reassure Suguru by reminding him that there’s going to be a more seasoned sorcerer with you—the newly graduated Kusakabe Atsuya. You don’t think it made him feel better.

Kusakabe will meet you there. On the way to meet him, you ask Gojo, “Should we…come up with a plan?”

“Why?”

You fiddle with the metal aglet on the ends of your hooded sweatshirt’s drawstrings. “I would feel better if we did.”

“We don’t even know the layout of this place,” he points out.

“Right,” you mumble. You’d forgotten about that, honestly. “You’re right.” You slip the aglet in your mouth and chew on it nervously.

Gojo huffs. “You stop it. I blow it up. Simple as that.”

“Can I draw it first?”

“Hah?”

You squirm uncomfortably. Hesitantly, you show him your old sketchbook. You kept it in case you come across a similar cursed spirit and need to compare notes. You’ve also got your new, blank sketchbook to start a new, more official record. “I like to study them,” you explain timidly. “It’s…kinda like my Digimon…I guess…”

Gojo takes the sketchbook from you, casually flipping through the pages. “Why cursed spirits, though?”

“Why’d you pick Digimon instead of some other anime?” You shrug nervously. “It’s hard to explain. At first, I thought some of them looked really cool. I made myself get better at art so that I could draw them, in case they were exorcised somehow. Then, I wanted to know how they got those shapes. It became about their behavior next. I’ve always loved mythology and animals, too, so maybe that influenced the interest a little.”

“Hmph. Alright. I’ll try to hold off on blowing it up.” Before he turns his head away, you notice a pinkness on his cheeks. “You can talk about them with me, if you want. Like…how I talk about Digimon and stuff.”

You duck your head, face hot. “Thank you.”

The assignment doesn’t take long at all. It may take more time for you to sketch the spirits than it does for Gojo to blow them away. There were a lot of them. They all took the same form which was vaguely pufferfish shaped. You know that the weaker, tinier spirits tend to group up, and these were no different.

Their behavior around Gojo was the odd thing, though. Unless the spirit is a higher grade, spirits never reacted to Suguru when you were around. It’s not like that with Gojo. He’d held back to let you sketch, but when he stepped toward you, the group started to shift restlessly in their places. Then, when he got too close, they shot their spines out. If Gojo hadn’t dashed forward and tackled you to the ground, covering you with his Infinity-lined body, you would be a porcupine.

“It was fascinating!”

Suguru looks faint as you recount your assignment to him over dinner. You made sure to pick up something light for him since eating curses fucks with his stomach. You got him some onigiri for the morning when he’ll be ravenous, making sure to mark them as yours before you tuck them in the communal fridge. Hopefully, it’ll succeed in tricking Gojo because you have no doubt that he’d eat them to antagonize Suguru.

“I wonder what it is about Gojo that freaked them out like that,” you mutter to yourself. “You’re as strong as him. Do you think you have some sort of calming effect on them because of your technique? Or what if they can sense the spirits inside you and it confuses them?”

“No more thinking tonight, Squid,” Suguru declares and closes your sketchbook. “We have three years to figure out both our techniques.”

“Fine.”

“Well, now you just sound like Gojo with that bratty attitude.”

“It’s not bratty! It’s called being a nerd.”

Suguru gives a shake of the head as he laughs. “You can be a nerd and a brat at the same time.” You watch him start to clean up the empty food containers. His face is doing something…weird. You can’t pinpoint this particular emotion. “Squid…are you up for touch today?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Can I hold you?” Suguru, uncharacteristically vulnerable, goes on to admit, “I was worried about you today.”

“If anyone was worried, it was me. You didn’t have me there to calm the spirits down.” You two ate while sitting in the floor, so you hold your arms out to him like the brat that he accused you of being. “C’mon. I never get Suguru hugs anymore. I really miss them.”

He smiles, a little shy. “Brat.”

“No. I’m Squid, remember? You never let me forget.”

For some reason, your brain replaced hold with hug. You’re fully expecting him to help you up and give you something quick, but he doesn’t do that. He drops in behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you back between his open legs. You squeak at the manhandling and your heart starts to beat faster. When your back is against his broad chest, he slips both his arms around your middle, and leans his chin on the top of your head with a happy sigh.

“Oh,” you whisper unthinkingly.

Suguru mistakes your tension with overstimulation. “Is this okay still?”

“Yes.”

Why are you so nervous? You’re not being bombarded by stimuli, so it can’t be because of that. Actually…it feels really good to be in his arms. He’s always so warm. You feel as if his arms are all-encompassing. It makes you feel safe. It makes you feel loved. And Suguru should be feeling that way, too, so you need to push away this weirdness inside you. You twist around in his arms, putting yours around his waist, shoving your face against his hard chest.

“Squid hugs are the best hugs,” Suguru whispers.

“Do you know how to help with a broken nose?”

You’re in the library when Sensei appears in the doorway and asks that almost ominous question. Slowly, you put the book back on the shelf, eyeing Sensei warily. He simply looks back at you, exhaustion seeping from every pore. The resignation you see in him is familiar, too. The pieces quickly add up. The air around Sensei paired with the cryptic text that came from Suguru with only a simple apology…

Oh, no.

“I can plug up the nosebleed and make an ice pack,” you answer with an equally tired sigh.

Sensei nods and gives a curt thanks. Before you and he go your separate ways, you sheepishly ask if you can talk to Suguru before he does, but Sensei shuts that idea down immediately. You’re then held up by being given a quick yet scathing lecture about needing to let Suguru face the consequences of his own actions and to stop coddling him. You bow profusely in apology as he’s leaving the room.

Ieiri is away on a research trip of sorts. Being taught the human body and putting her technique into use. Thankfully, she said she’ll be back today, but not until later tonight. Gojo is stuck with your shabby patchwork until then. So, you grab a first-aid kit, fill up an ice pack, and meet him in the classroom that Sensei told you he’d be waiting in.

Gojo has an arm against his face, likely trying to stop the bleeding since it’s stained. You wordlessly get to work. Unfortunately, you have experience with nosebleeds and broken nose. Noses? Can a nose be broken twice? Suguru’s nose still sits crooked from his father’s rage.

“Pinch,” you order softly after you take Gojo’s hand and move his fingers to the bridge of his nose. You reach for his face, pausing as he flinches when you get close. You give him a moment to prepare before you guide him to tilt his head back with gentle hands along his jawline. Blood is smeared all across his lower face and still dripping down from his nostrils. You cringe at the sight. Suguru got him good. “This might hurt,” you warn before you pack his nose with gauze.

“No lecture?” Gojo’s voice is high and nasally.

“You don’t think you’ll be getting one from Sensei?” You grab a damp, warm cloth and start wiping away the blood. “Besides, whatever you did, you got a broken nose for it. What else do I need to say?”

“Might prefer the broken nose over your disappointment,” he says with a pout.

“I’m not disappointed.” You pause. “I don’t think I am, anyway.”

Gojo leans his head back even further, sighing dramatically. “Your BFF is scary when he’s angry.”

“Suguru does this thing where he’ll hold all his emotions close. They sit there, building up pressure, and then one day, he’ll just explode. So, yeah, that’s a little scary. Not so much for me, though. I only worry.” He pouts more. “What’s that face for?”

“No worry for me?”

Your hands hesitate. “Maybe kind of?” Should you say what you want to? Eh. Gojo rarely cares. Why should you? “I’d love it if you two could get along, so I worry that this might keep that from happening forever, but…you probably pushed him. I could be wrong, but you probably deserved this.”

Gojo throws his clean arm over his eyes. “Yeah…I did…” Oh? That’s certainly a change of heart. “No one has ever touched me like that before…” There’s a redness on his cheeks now that doesn’t come from the blood stains. Is he embarrassed that he lost or something? “Why aren’t you and Suguru scared of me?” He tries to lean his head back down, but you keep him in place with a hand gripping his chin. “See? See! Not even my family touches me so casually!”

“What? Is your family actually scared of you?”

“Yeah. Always have been, even if they pretend not to be. They treat me like a god to hide it, but I learned. Everyone is scared of me. Maids apologized for touching me by accident when I was a kid and needed help getting dressed.” Your incredulousness must make him self-conscious because he shrugs. “C’mon, you’ve been around long enough now to pick up on this, Sketch. I’m the jujutsu world’s weapon.”

Normally, you’re immune to being shocked by Gojo’s directness. Not this time. “It’s stupid if you believe that.” Ugh. You’re so pissed off right now. You want to punch someone. That was his mother on the first day that he came to campus, right? Can she come back? Does she have Infinity? “You’re bleeding and breathing right now, aren’t you? Weapons don’t do that. Gods don’t get migraines because of their special eyes. You’re a human. You’re Gojo Satoru.”

“But who is Gojo Satoru if he’s not those things?”

“A sugar-addicted brat who pushes when he shouldn’t,” you intone. He giggles, taking it as the joke it’s supposed to be. “Aren’t you too young to be having an identity crisis? I can’t tell you who you are. I’m not even sure I know who I am. Don’t they say you’re supposed to figure that out in high school or something?”

“Dunno,” he mumbles.

The blood is cleaned from his face. You reach for the icepack but falter. You don’t feel like you’ve said anything helpful. If anything, you feel like you’ve put him in a bad spot. So, you try to reassure him. “It’s okay to take time to figure out who you are, Gojo—”

“Satoru.”

“Huh?”

“Call me Satoru…please…”

“Ah.” You can understand why he wants to be so informal. If he wants to distance himself from his stupid family, you’re more than happy to oblige. “Okay.” He yelps when you press the icepack against his nose. “Let’s all try to get along from now on, okay…Satoru.”

Later, you have Suguru’s big hand in yours while you carefully dab antiseptic on the cuts all over them. You know that this isn’t solely from punching Satoru in the nose, but you don’t press Suguru about it. He hasn’t spoken since you knocked on the door to his dorm room and you’re okay with that. You’ve been through this routine before. It’s what you two do. You patch each other up, being a silent and steady presence until whoever is upset wants to talk.

When you’ve cleaned all his cuts, you try to clean up all the pieces of paper from the band-aids, but Suguru stops you. He slips his fingers through yours and your entwined hands hover in the air between you two. You watch as he intensely studies your hands, so you do the same. When did his hands get so much bigger than yours? How do your hands feel to him, you wonder, because his are so rough. You like the difference, though.

“I’m sorry,” Suguru finally apologizes. “I broke the sunglasses you gave him.”

You huff in amusement. That’s what he’s worried about? “It’s okay.”

“They were your first purchase in Tokyo.”

Ah, you sometimes kind of hate how well he knows you. You do tend to assign some importance to seemingly unimportant trinkets. “I think I’m more attached to the piercings that we got together. I’ll probably keep this somewhere when I finally have to get a new barbell.” You stick out your tongue, as if he’s forgotten the piercing.

“I would’ve given you that first set of earrings if that was the case,” Suguru grumbles. Shoko had used you and Suguru as guinea pigs for her technique and healed your piercings, so Suguru quickly started the process of stretching his ears. As he said, he’d thrown away that first set of earrings.

“I know it’s weird to ask that sort of thing.”

“It’s you, Squid. Nothing is weird anymore.”

“Hmm, sounds like a challenge. I need to find something to disturb you.”

“Please don’t.”

“I’ll be nice for now because you had a bad day.”

“Bad day doesn’t even begin to cover it.” There’s a tired slump in his shoulders now. “He was playing around too much. Instead of exorcising the curse or letting me absorb it, he kept taunting it. The spirit threw me out a window trying to get to him, so I got pissed. I absorbed it and punched him in the face.” He pauses before lowly confessing, “I punched him a second time when I saw the sunglasses broke because I thought they were special to you. I was upset at myself for losing my temper and mad at him for not being careful with them even though it was my fault.”

You hum. “Is that guilt, Suguru?”

“Guilt for the sunglasses.”

“Right.” Again, you’re not pushing, but you doubt he doesn’t feel bad in some way. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be as melancholic as he is right now. “I’m going to let you sit on this, but…I think Satoru actually feels bad, so he might apologize. I didn’t tell him to, by the way. Just like I’m not telling you to forgive him. But I thought you should know.”

Suguru’s brow twitches. “You’re on first name basis with him now?”

“Yeah.”

“Ugh. He’s just doing it to piss me off.”

You’re the one to feel a flash of irritation now. “Doing what exactly? Being my friend? Are you saying that he can’t actually want to be my friend without some ulterior motive?”

Then, he rolls his eyes. Rolls his eyes! “Squid, you’re just reaching now. You know that’s not what I’m saying—”

“What are you saying, then? Has he said something bad that I don’t know about?”

The corners of his eyes are tight. Through gritted teeth, he answers, “No.”

“Okay. So, what’s the problem?”

“I just don’t trust him around you, okay?”

“You just said that he hasn’t done anything shady other than wanting to be my friend.” You yank your hands away from his, baring your teeth. “Am I not allowed to have those? Are you going to say that you don’t trust Shoko around me either?”

Then, he has the audacity to look hurt. “No! That’s not what I’m saying at all! You’re allowed to have friends!”

“Okay! Satoru and Shoko are my friends, too!” Are you overreacting? Tears prick at the corners of your eyes which makes you feel even more stupid. Why are you about to cry? Stupid, stupid, stupid brain. “I’m going back to my room. I’ve got blood under my nails and I fucking hate it.”

“Squid, I’m sorry—”

“Save it, Suguru.”

When you’re woken up by tapping against your window at one in the morning, you seriously debate shoving a pillow over your head and ignoring him. There’s a part of you that wants to let him stew in his guilt. You can’t keep forgiving him as soon as he comes running.

This seems like an insignificant thing to stay mad over, though…

After you take a deep breath, you roll out of bed, walk over to your window, and open it up for him to climb through.

Suguru genuinely does look miserable. More than punching Satoru or breaking your sunglasses made him. When he apologizes, you accept it. And when he shyly asks if he can sleepover, you let him. It’s been years since you guys have shared a bed, but your parents aren’t around to send him home.

Suguru said your hugs are the best hugs, but you have to disagree. You know you’ll wake up in the morning, skin slick with sweat, because he’s a furnace, but you’ve missed this. It’s always been so easy to let Suguru touch you. It got to the point where even the touch of your parents would make you wince, but not his. He asks, but you always say yes. You’re never overwhelmed by the way his big body curls around yours.

“I’m sorry,” Suguru apologizes one last time before you both fall asleep. “I’m scared to lose you,” he slurs sleepily.

“Never,” you mumble right back. “You’ll never lose me.”

Five months into the term, it’s time for the annual Goodwill Event.

This year wasn’t the best for Tokyo recruitment, so it’s only your class in the entire school. It’s not the same for Kyoto. They only have one person in their third year, Iori Utahime, but the rest of the years have more students. Normally, first years aren’t allowed to compete, and Tokyo would simply forfeit this year, but because of Suguru and Satoru’s strength, an exception is made.

Kyoto brings a total of eight students—three girls, five boys. Two judges come with them, too—their principal, Gakuganji, and a Grade 1 sorcerer, Mei-Mei.

It’s been about two months after the big Suguru-Satoru Blowout. As you predicted, they apologized to each other not long after the incident. Dare you say, they might be more than simple acquaintances now. Dare you say, they might actually be sort of friends. They’ve really bonded over being assholes, actually. They’re still stupidly competitive and bicker, but it’s no longer malicious. They can exist in the same space as you and there’s no more awkwardness. You spend time with them together and it’s so much fun.

The Goodwill Event reminds you of that deep-rooted fear of Suguru’s, though. A fear that you had before you left the village, you remember suddenly. It finally happens. Suguru is adored. Fawned over. Truly seen for the first time in your lives. The same is done to Satoru, too, but you banked on that happening. And, technically, it makes sense. Guys want their power and girls just want them period.

It was stupid to pretend that your school exists in a bubble. In the back of your mind, you’ve known that you’d eventually have to meet other sorcerers and that not everyone will like you. You’ve prepared yourself for that, haven’t you? It shouldn’t bother you that the Kyoto students barely even acknowledge your existence when you’re in the same space as Suguru and Satoru. You get it, right? They’re admirable. Shoko is awed at for her technique, too, and that’s great! It’s wonderful!

Just four days, you remind yourself as you’re sitting under a tree by yourself and shoving food in your mouth. Four days, and then the Kyoto students will be gone. It’s okay, you chant to yourself. No one noticed you leave, but you wanted some air, anyway. And, hey, you even made a friend! Sure, Shoko had to introduce you to her and break the ice between you two, but Iori has a sharp tongue and awesome sense of humor. A senpai to truly look up to. If you can get along with one new person then you can get along with the rest.

“Yo! Sketch!”

You pause right before you take a bite of your tamagoyaki. “Satoru?” Fruit sando and melon soda in hand, he easily flops down next to you at the base of the tree. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s exhausting dealing with all those brown nosers.” He takes an aggressive chunk out of his sandwich. “Ugh. I can’t believe we’re gonna have to share a dorm with these assholes for four days. I don’t need a bunch of strangers in my business.” His lip curls in disgust. “Suguru lecture you about playing nice?”

“Yes.” You take a grumpy bite out of your tamagoyaki. “I’m trying not to stress about it, but they were already talking about breakfast, and I can’t imagine the mess they’ll make.” It’s a struggle not to snap your chopsticks from the death grip that you’ve got on them. “Suguru says that I need to learn how to handle my routine being interrupted better.”

Satoru huffs. “Easy for him to say.”

Well, it makes you feel a lot better to know that someone else understands your pain. “All we can do is our best.”

“Or we can make their lives hell.”

You duck your head, trying to hide your smile. “It wouldn’t kill you to play nice with others, Satoru.”

“Naw, I think it actually would.”

“You’re nice to me.”

“Sketch is different.” Heat explodes in your cheeks. You outright turn your head away, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing how much he flustered you with that. Since he doesn’t tease you, he didn’t see. “We should stay in a hotel. We could do one of those capsule hotels, y’know?”

“And have my knees and elbows bumping against the sides? No way.” You stick your tongue out in disgust. After the third bump of a limb, you know it would drive you insane. Besides, “Would you even fit in one of those?” Ah. Wait. Were you supposed to take that seriously? “Were you joking?”

You look back over at him and he’s scratching the bridge of his nose. “Not really.”

“Ha. Okay, so, a couple of things—I think we’re too young to book a room, and a girl and boy in the same room? Scandalous.”

He gives an exaggerated sigh. “Fine.”

Sympathetic to his plight, you reach over to pat his knee. “Hang in there.”

These days, it’s a little easier for you to pick up on the kind of mood Satoru is in. It’s the second day now, early in the morning, and you’re dragged by Shoko to the designated gathering spot of Tokyo and Kyoto students. Just by the way that Satoru lashes out at people, purposely baiting them with taunts and cruel bluntness, you can tell that he’s in as bad a mood as you are. And you can’t blame him.

The other two girls on the Kyoto side are Ota Juri and Takata Tenka. They cleaned up after themselves, but they moved everything around in the kitchen and didn’t put it back in the original spot, so you got pissed off trying to find where something went. You could live with that, but they’re also…invasive. After they went looking for Suguru and Satoru yesterday and found the boys with you, their attitude toward you quickly changed. They think they’re slick, subtly probing about your friendship with Suguru and Satoru. They try to act familiar now, getting touchy, thinking that’ll warm you up to them faster.

To say that you’re on a wire’s edge today would be an understatement. You don’t know which one suggested it, but you want to deck whichever one of these girls suggested shopping as a way to build comradery between the sister schools and the people you may be working with in the future. They just want to experience the Tokyo scene like they probably couldn’t get permission to ride a train here on any other day.

At the mall, Ota and Takata take the lead. They have very domineering personalities, so their classmates allow the girls to drag them along. You try to sneak away, sometimes with Shoko and Iori behind you, but Ota and Takata hunt you down—probably trying to show off how caring they are to Suguru and Satoru or something. Eventually, you stop trying. You shut up and linger at the back of the group.

You try to do that, anyway.

Shoko, as equally over this trip, drags you into the beauty store because if she’s going down, you’re going with her.

“Aren’t you going to get anything?” Ota questions as you’re just passively glancing over products. You almost miss the question because you’re teetering on the edge of overstimulation. Why do beauty stores have to use so much fluorescent lighting? You forgot your fucking sunglasses.

“I’m not big into makeup. I don’t like how it feels on my face.”

Ota laughs obnoxiously. “You’re just using the wrong product, silly.”

You force a smile. “My mom already tested a bunch out with me. I just really don’t like any of it.”

Takata has been eavesdropping. She takes up Ota’s side, smiling as predatory as Ota is now. “Was it the foundation? I know the liquid can be heavy. Have you tried powder?” You lose control of your temper a little and roll your eyes. Don’t these girls know how to take no for an answer? “Don’t be like that,” Takata scolds. “Look, you could stand to use some makeup. We’re trying to help you.”

“Help how?”

If Satoru hadn’t spoken up ahead of time, you’d probably tip over when he practically drapes himself on your shoulder.

Ota and Takata perk up at his presence. You can almost see the hearts in their eyes. “Satoru!” Takata chirps.

“Oi, oi, oi, you’re getting awfully familiar there. Who gave you first name privilege, huh?”

Her syrupy sweet smiles falter. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought—”

“Don’t hurt yourself. Steam might start spewing from your ears. It’s obvious you don’t have a lot going on up there.”

Takata deflates at the insult. “Sa—Gojo—” her gaze flickers to you. Pleading for you to intervene. When she gets nothing from you, she scrambles. “I’m sorry if we offended you somehow—”

“Not me you should be apologizing to.” Your eyes widen. Is he doing this for you? “Y’know, Sketch, it’s good that someone has some sense around here. Make sure you don’t get attached to these idiots, okay? They’ll be so busy thinking about makeup that they’ll up as bloody smears on the wall pretty soon.”

You frown as you look up at him. “What if I do want makeup?”

He brightens. “Can I buy you something?”

Try to make the favoritism less obvious, you think with a twitch of the brow. “Find an art store and we’ll talk.”

“Eh? I already did,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world that he would go scouting for art supply stores. “Can we leave now? I’m bored,” he whines. You hope you’re not gawking when you nod. “Awesome! Let’s go! I found a shop that sells sweets, too!”

Suguru is hovering at the entrance of the store, brows furrowed in concern, but he steps out of the way for you and Satoru, who is practically dragging you out with a grip on your wrist. Suguru isn’t allowed confusion or shock because Satoru is snatching his hand on the way out.

“Satoru, you’re going to rip my arm off,” Suguru complains when the other students are out of sight.

Satoru stops dead in his tracks, so sudden that you and Suguru almost crash into him. He looks over his shoulder at you both. The angle you’re in allows you to see the wideness of his eyes. He still hasn’t let go of your wrist. Actually, his grip tightens, which makes Suguru get huffier.  

“Satoru,” he calls out exasperatedly.

Oh.

You’re not sure if Suguru has realized it himself, but he’s using Satoru’s given name now. No wonder Satoru is stunned. It’s so odd. What changed between this morning and now? Because Suguru was definitely referring to him as his surname earlier. You won’t ask because Suguru might clam up and this peace may shatter.

“Oh. Uh. Sorry,” Satoru mutters as he finally releases his hold on you and Suguru.

On the fourth and final day of the Goodwill Event, something…weird happens during your individual match.

Tokyo easily won the team battle. The individual battles are where Kyoto can even the odds. The thing is that Satoru and Suguru are going to win their individual match. As much as you adore her, you expected that Shoko would lose hers, and she did. You couldn’t hear what was happening, but you think that she flirted with Iori more than fight, but Iori didn’t allow herself to get too flustered, and took the win.

You think that Kyoto expects you to lose your match because plans were already made about the tiebreaker. There would be a random draw for one last individual match to decide which school wins the day. There was no word on what would be done to break the tie if each school has their own point.

So, your win is an upset.

If you’re honest with yourself, you didn’t think that you’d win, either. It didn’t look good. It was your luck that you were pitted against the biggest guy on Kyoto’s side. Not as tall as Suguru and Satoru, sure, but the guy is built like a literal tank. During the team battle, if Suguru hadn’t summoned a cursed spirit in time to cushion the blow, this guy would’ve knocked him out with a single punch.

You didn’t stand a chance at winning, you’d told yourself as you were running through the forest, but after the whole mall fiasco, you wanted to try to last long enough to not be the laughingstock of this year.

As soon as the siren sounded, you went running. Your opponent supplemented his lack of technique with shikigami use, so you had time while he channeled energy into an intermediary to summon his shikigami. You’re trying to think of a plan on the fly, not sure what to do since your technique is useless against people.

This would be easier if there weren’t still so many fucking cursed spirits left in the forest. You’re pacifying them, obviously, but you still have to duck around them. Ugh, why can’t you control them like Suguru can? No, at this point…

I wish you would just die, please. Bloody and painfully would be preferred.

And, as soon as you have that thought, the big curse that you were dashing past moves. Your body freezes on instinct. The spirit shouldn’t be moving around you. Your technique is still active. At the most, this curse is Grade 3. It raises a clawed hand, and you throw your arms up, ready to protect yourself from a whole new problem.

There’s a sickening crunch and the curse screeches in pain. Purple blood splatters across the front of you. When you drop your arms, confused as to what attacked the spirit and saved you, you watch the gruesome scene of the curse slowly ripping limbs away from its body. It still has that dead-eyed look that spirits get when you’ve pacified them, but it moves with an urgency to tear itself apart.

Once the curse has only one arm left, it proceeds to push its arm through its own chest, grabbing its heart. That heart is thrown at your feet. Then, as its final act, it slowly twists its head around until it’s the opposite way, pulls its head off, and the curse finally crumbles to pieces.

What the fuck happened?

From your left, there’s more of those crunches and high-pitched screeching. A curse in the shape of a centipede is trying to crawl toward you between picking legs off with its pincers. At your feet, the curse keeps gnawing at itself, screeching in pain every now and then, until it, too, finally dies and crumbles.

If you didn’t hear the loud roar of your opponent’s shikigami, you’d still be standing there in shock. Your mind runs faster than your legs. That’s not normal behavior. Self-preservation is ingrained into a curse…unless it’s forced like with Suguru. You asked them to die. Moreso, you wanted it to be bloody and painful. The curses listened.

You purposely seek out another spirit now. Die, you mentally scream at the first spirit you see. Unlike with the others, this one doesn’t take time to mutilate itself. It tears its head clean off and that’s it. Blood splatters across your shoes briefly before it fades away with the cursed spirit.

A plan slowly takes shape.

Didn’t you and Shoko stumble across a pack of fly heads yesterday? You’d split up because you knew Kyoto would try to follow Satoru’s presence and get to the winning Grade 2 before you. The fly heads weren’t a bother and the bell had rung sounding your win, anyway.

Where were those? By the river, right? Yes!

You’re getting tired from running and burning cursed energy. You’re pretty sure that you only have one shot at this because you’ll either pass out from exhaustion or get your ass beat by a shikigami. So, yeah, you need to make this count.

The fly heads haven’t moved far.

Kyoto Guy and his shikigami aren’t far behind you.

Just as they’re running out of the tree line, you look at the pacified fly heads. Protect me, you plead them, but that’s too much to ask. It was a test. The fly heads don’t move, but you’re forced to when the shikigami lunges. That thing is sporting some nasty fangs that catch on your arm as you narrowly dodge it.

You play this game of cat and mouse, luring the shikigami away from the sorcerer. All you need is for Kyoto Guy to get close enough to the fly heads. He’s an asshole, laughing cruelly as he watches you scramble away from his shikigami, getting bloodier as you get sloppier from fatigue. Iori was gossiping with you and Shoko, and this guy has a crush on Takata. You figure he’s not happy about Satoru’s cruelty which was a result of him defending you.

Explode! You plead the fly heads when Kyoto Guy steps in their range. Explode, explode, explode!

They do.

The shikigami immediately drops the fight with you, thinking the fly heads are the more immediate threat. Like little paint bombs, the fly heads splatter their blood across Kyoto Guy when they force themselves to combust. There are so many of them that he’s continually being splattered.

While he’s blinded by the blood of cursed spirits, you pour cursed energy into your fist. Sprinting past the shikigami that’s snapping at fly heads, you give this asshole a ferocious kick to the balls to get him to hunch over.

You slam your fist square in the center of his face. There’s so much force in the punch that he goes flying back, landing in the shallow river with such a painful sounding thud, and he doesn’t get up. You’d think you killed him if it wasn’t for the subtle rise and fall of his chest.

The alarm sounds.

Tokyo wins.

Later, you’re walking out of the infirmary behind Shoko who proudly announces, “She gave him a concussion!”

Sensei gives you all a lecture on good sportsmanship after Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko break out into applause and cheers.

[noonaishere]

Music of the Heart [J.YH] - eighty-six | hack behavior

You couldn’t pay attention to what you were doing. 

Part of you was completely distracted by the idea that Yunho was busy with a fucking sting operation, of all fucking things. If y/n got him hurt or killed, you’d never forgive her. It’d mean you’d have to get a new editor, and that’d suck because she was a really good editor, but you’d cut ties with her on principle. And then you’d help Yunho sue her.

Despite your being distracted, whenever you did try to concentrate on something, you found yourself feeling… bored? Maybe it was because the distraction was so much more exciting than work but, whatever the reason, you couldn’t help it.

You had come to work that morning hoping to get a lot done: you had maybe half a list of songs for your lessons with Yujin but you wanted it to be killer; Hongjoong wanted ideas from you for Ans:wer’s comeback album, the song they were recording was going to be a one-off single for their re-debut and they’d need a full album of songs to record soon; you knew Maddox was around somewhere and probably needed something…

Yet somehow, somehow, you couldn’t get anything done. And it was because you knew your former best friend/for a while sworn enemy/now current friend was out, helping with a homemade sting operation, of all fucking things.

You deeply questioned her judgment, his judgment, and your judgment on continuing to know both of them.

You sighed and slapped your cheeks a couple times, hoping it would wake your brain up from the thing you weren’t supposed to be thinking about so you could concentrate on the things you should be thinking about. You inhaled and exhaled purposefully, attempting to center yourself. No more distractions; you were going to get something done.

“T/n?”

You looked up. Hongjoong was in the studio doorway, face contemplative. 

“Yeah?”

“Could you maybe help me with something?”

There were papers everywhere. The tables had been flipped over and everything on it on the floor, broken instruments, soundboards, and monitors, the chairs looked like they had been thrown into the wall, and there was a thin coating of dust on everything because the room had been left like this for months.

The first thing the two of you did was right the table, and Hongjoong knelt down to inspect the computer tower, the monitor beside it with a spidery crack through the screen, the second monitor with a gouge in it. He sighed.

You turned and got to picking up papers off the floor - sheet music, lyric sheets, pages of notes - you stacked them together so they could all be organized… or thrown out.

“So… is anyone going to tell me what happened with this guy?”

You heard Hongjoong shift but he stayed quiet. You went back to cleaning. He put the computer tower and monitors on the table and righted a chair and sat down.

“It’s my fault.”

You turned.

“We were friends and we used to, you know, challenge each other musically. We’d ask questions back and forth about how we thought a song should sound, what genre we should use for a concept, that kind of thing. One day I asked if he wanted to write about more.”

“‘More’?”

He sighed. “When we write popular music, we write the most relatable things a person could feel or desire, you know? Love, lust, heartbreak. You could call them ‘the big three,’ most songs revolve around them in some way or another, most people experience them so they make the most money.”

You nodded.

“Obviously I don’t have too much of a problem with this, it’s my job and all, but I had been doing HALA - making art - since I was a teenager, and I wondered if he felt the same.”

You watched him as he searched his memories for a moment.

“One day I asked him if he wanted to branch out, write about some other emotion or want or… anything, really. And he blew up at me.”

“Wow.”

“One minute we were having a nice conversation-- about Ans:wer, actually and what direction their next album should go in, and the next thing he was screaming at me. About how I didn’t understand him, or his art, or art in general, or anything… and he’d never yelled at me before, we’d never gotten into a fight, even, but suddenly he was screaming at me. Then he left and came here and trashed the whole room - Maddox came in and tried to stop him, and he hit him - and then he left before we could call security.”

Your eyes widened. “He hit Maddox?”

He nodded.

“Holy shit. What’d you do?”

“I was… flabbergasted? I feel like I’ve never used that word before. Dumbfounded? I was at a loss for words. All I could do was sit there and wonder, like, what the fuck did I do that was so wrong? Why did he get so mad? I guess we were really only work friends, but why did he get so mad instead of calmly defending his position like he normally did every other time we talked about music? Like, why… why?”

You righted a second chair and sat next to him.

“I just couldn’t understand why he became so… enraged. And so suddenly. I tried to call him afterwards. Yeah, I was stunned and maybe a little scared of him because of what happened, but I wanted to talk it through and see what was wrong, and I wanted him to apologize to Maddox… but he had already blocked me.”

He took his phone out and pressed the number for a contact that was named ‘Z---’ to keep it at the bottom of the contacts list. The phone rang for a moment before rejecting. He stared at the contact for a few moments.

“I called him at least three times a week for a month, and then less the month after… I can take a hint, I just didn’t know why he wanted me to take a hint, you know? And we had so many things we needed to work on…”

You nodded.

“It was like… all of my work life was wrapped in this person because we worked together so well, and all of a sudden it was gone in an instant, and I still don’t know what I did wrong.”

You nodded again. He clicked on the contact and the drop down fanned out the option to call or text the person. He looked at it for a couple seconds and shut the screen off and put it away. The two of you sat in silence for a few moments and he sighed.

“There was a drama I was watching…” you started, “It was a long time ago so I don’t remember the name, but there was a husband and wife in it. And one day the husband said something to the wife, and she yelled at him, which would have seemed odd, because everything seemed fine, but then the show went through all these little moments of like… she was changing as a person and he wasn’t. So when he said whatever it was to her: he, a person who had stagnated, was saying it to a person who was growing, and so she didn’t feel like he knew her anymore.”

“So--” Hongjoong avoided saying the ex-producer’s name “...so he grew?”

“Well… it’s not a one-to-one comparison. I think that, if you asked him about music and he was suddenly opposed to questioning it at all, maybe he’s the one who stagnated.”

He thought for a moment and frowned. 

“Or maybe he had changed his mind on something and didn’t tell you. It probably wasn’t sudden - one or both of you were changing the whole time - you just didn’t know from a lack of communication. You still thought he was still the kind of person you could have honest conversations about what’s working or not working in a song and…” you shrugged, “maybe he just wasn’t that person anymore.”

Hongjoong sighed deeply. His eyes downcast, his attention was taken by a broken mixing board nearby. He picked it up, turning it over to survey the damage done to it. He stared at it for a second, expression blank, but you could tell his brain was working overtime as his grip on the mixing board tightened. He inhaled a shaky breath, seeming to force himself to breathe in until it steadied.

“...Fuck…” he breathed out.

He blinked, he shook his head, you weren’t sure if you should ask what he was thinking.

“I…” he volunteered. “I’m playing the last two years we knew each other over in my head and, like, thinking about it like that… A lot of things are starting to make sense now.”

You leaned back against the table and watched him as he worked through his thoughts.

“When we first started working together, he made sure to explain that we had to do everything in service of the music… nothing else mattered as long as we were creating art and that the art was honest.”

You watched him.

“...He got an offer from another company; way more money with way less work. He didn’t take it, he said, because he was so sure that he was creating art here…”

“Did he come to regret the decision, maybe?”

He nodded slowly. “One day we had a small argument-- more like a heated debate. I didn’t pay it too much mind at the time but he had said something like… ‘Why are we doing so much for a rookie group?’ or something like that. Then I thought he mumbled something about ‘I should have taken the money,’ but he stormed out of the room before I could ask and he didn’t come back until the next day.”

“Wow…”

He nodded again, eyes on the floor.

“Sounds like a hack.”

He burst out laughing, the surprise making him spit by accident. Fortunately it didn’t hit you.

You raised an eyebrow. “Nice job.”

He leaned back in the chair, laughing, and waved your comment away. “Why do you say that?”

You shrugged. “It sounds like he didn’t take the other job at first because he felt the art was more important, and then decided he really wanted the money later. Did he need it?”

He wiped the tears from his eyes and calmed himself. “I don’t know. We weren’t very close outside of work but I was under the impression he was fairly well off. He was older than me by about ten years and had been working here about that long.”

You nodded. “Then maybe he wanted the status that the money or the name of the other company could bring.”

“...Maybe.”

“And, if you’re willing to make things just for the money,” you shrugged, “you’re a hack.

He laughed again, quieter this time, and leaned back in the chair with a pleased sigh. “Does that make me ‘not a hack’? Since I’d never do that?”

You smiled. “Of course.”

He looked down at the broken mixing board for a moment, smiling.

“Though--” you checked the door to make sure no one was walking around outside “I don’t really think HALA could become a hack.”

“I’m glad to know you have such faith in me.”

You nodded. “Like yeah, you make pop music most of the time, but you still have your own stuff that you get to explore other options with. We live in a capitalist hellscape where art is a commodity and unless we all decide to go to the salt mines instead, this is kind of our only option to make money as creative people.”

He exhaled a laugh.

“And hey, if you start exhibiting hack behavior, I’ll let you know.”

He smiled at you. “Thanks.”

You smiled back. “I’m really glad you told me about all this. It seemed like it was weighing on you.” “Yeah. I guess it was.”

You nodded. 

He put the broken board on the table and clapped his hands on his thighs, standing. “Well, let’s get this room cleaned up so you can have your own studio.”

“I’m getting this room?” 

The size of the room was fairly large, you supposed it was because the previous owner was so important. But you weren’t sure you deserved something like this so early.

“Of course.”

“But… it’s almost the size of the recording studio.”

“My and Maddox’s private studios are the same size.”

“Really? Well, I’ve never seen your rooms. When he and I visited the other producers, a lot of them had smaller studios.”

“That’s because a lot of them have less stuff and don’t need the space, or they make music for groups at other companies as well.”

“Is--”

He turned to you.

“Are they being punished?”

“What--” he laughed loudly. “No, they’re not being punished. They also have space at the companies they produce for, so it’s like half of this size room is here and half is at the other company.”

“Oh.”

“And a lot of people like smaller rooms, you know. Sound proofing is much easier to put up in a room with less wall space.”

“Then why are these rooms so big? This one, and yours and Maddox’s?”

“We’re lead producers and we only produce for Wonderland.”

You nodded. “Oh…”

He looked at you for a second. “What?”

“I don’t have that much stuff to fill it with though.”

He chuckled. “Well, once we get rid of all this broken shit,” he kicked at the broken computer tower, “get you some new mixing boards, get you a new desktop-- you can bring your bass in here, get some other instruments--”

“I do have a few at home.”

He smiled. “See? You’ll have tons of things.”

You thought about it. A room filled with instruments and mixers and computers with various production programs. What a dream.

“What?” Hongjoong asked as he picked up another mixing board that had something sticky poured into it, from his reaction. “Ugh, is this cola?”

You chuckled. 

He smelled it, grimaced, and put it on the table. “I’m surprised there’s no ants. What were you thinking about?”

“Oh… I was imagining the room looking like a working producer’s room.”

He put his hands on his hips and looked at you.

You nodded.

He nodded.

You nodded again.

He laughed. “Why are you nodding?”

“It looks pretty cool. In my head I mean. Obviously not… at the moment. But it’s cool to think that the dream is coming together.”

“You wanted to be a producer?”

“When I was younger? Nah, I wanted to be in a band and tour and shit. But honestly… When I first got into making mashups, I was just doing it for fun. Just to play around with sounds and I thought it’d make me a little bit of Youtube income on the side-- not enough to live on but enough to have a little extra money each month while I looked for a band or a job or whatever...”

He nodded.

“I never thought it’d blow up like it did… and I never thought I’d be standing here, in a room that’s going to be mine in the near future, working with you and Maddox, and heading my own projects in the future.”

He smiled. “Sometimes luck can account for a lot.”

You nodded. “I should send Mingi a fruit basket or something for telling me about the audition.”

He laughed.

“Though, maybe helping to set him up with Dei was enough.”

He laughed again. “Yeah, that seems like a pretty big favor to me. He might owe you back instead, if they get married.”

You exhaled a laugh as you picked up some more papers to add to the pile you had accumulated and tossed them on top.

“I think-- you can throw all that out.”

“Huh?”

“Those are all his. If he wants no trace of him being here, then that’s what he’ll have. Put it in the garbage.”

You shuffled it all together and picked it up, righting the garbage bin with your foot and dropping it all in. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m not going to suggest we continue the music of someone who thought money was more important than art, and who’d lash out at everyone. Fuck him.”

Your eyes widened and your eyebrows shot up.

“What?”

“I’ve… never heard you say something like that before.”

“Well… it’s just us. And, you know, if he hated me, I have no reason to forgive him… and forget yelling at me, he hit Maddox and Maddox has never done anything wrong in his life. So… yeah. Fuck him.”

“Fuck ‘em.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

He sighed and shook his head, a sort of resetting of his feelings; the sigh was for the past and the shake was to get rid of it since you both had the future to worry about. To look forward to. Though, you did file it away in the back of your brain that - were you to ever, somehow meet that guy - you would loudly give him a piece of your mind for hurting your favorite Goldfish Boy. Such things are not to be borne. Not when you can get in his face about it instead. He better hope he never runs into you.

“Anyway, this is going to be your room, once we clean it up. I’ll help you get a new computer and I’ll help you pick out new soundboards and mixing boards and shit. You can buy some more instruments…”

You nodded as you looked at the stuff you still had to clean. You supposed that IT would go over the computers just to make sure no company secrets were on them before they were disposed of.

“T/n?”

You looked at him. “Yeah?”

“I’m really glad you auditioned. I… I’m really glad you’re here. I know we started off on the wrong foot, and that was all my fault, but… I’m glad we’re going to be working together.”

His words surprised you.

He looked at you, no expectation of your answer, just an honest confession.

You nodded. “I’m glad I’m here too.”

  previous | main cast | masterlist | next

a/n: You know what that is? *opens hand like a flower* Growth.

Send an ask or leave a comment if you want to be added to the tag list! 🎵 Any comments, reblogs, or asks are appreciated! I love talking with you guys and seeing what you’re saying about the chapters, it keeps me going 🥰

@luvvvx • @iamthehotdemon • @hrts4hanniehae • @rachs-words • @stayatinykatsy • @anythingrelatingtojinyoung​

[marshemillow]

https://www.tumblr.com/marshemillow/770804581927174144/httpswwwtumblrcommarshemillow768614601602514

Yeah. I've wanted to turn my characters into a long-form comic for a long time now, but once it's online, it's not mine anymore. I can say "please don't ship these characters together, they're all related and I don't want that done with my work, please and thank you," but the people I'd be saying that to are also the exact people to not only ignore me, but to do it more out of spite. The only way for me to guarantee that doesn't happen is to not post any of it, so I don't post any of it. But not posting any of it is also sucking the fun out of creating anything at all.

I guess I'm just venting. I know I will have no control over it once I share it, and there is no way to completely un-share it once it's up. But keeping it to myself is also making me want to stop altogether. I don't feel excited or proud once I finish a new piece, I just feel disappointed. I don't get enjoyment out of creating things like this, but I know I'm too scared of the alternative.

I feel this way too, but I stopped making art altogether because I was so sick of being harassed and realizing everyone I liked in my favorite fandoms were pro-harassment, it just ended up sucking all the joy out of it.

Here's the thing; I get that the thought of people making art of your characters the way people make art of other things bothers you, but it is actually within your full rights to tell fans not to show you things like that and keep it confined to its own special tag and communities and whatnot. If they shoved it in front of you anyway, that would be harassment, and that's not okay.

It's also like, if I found out someone was making distasteful art of my characters??? I would be so happy!!! Because that means I MADE IT!!! Having attention from freaks is such an honor because of how kind and respectful and PASSIONATE they are compared to other fans!!! I may not look at it, but I would be happy if I knew my fans felt free to be creative however they saw fit because that fosters happy healthy fandoms!!!

So to see you drive yourself into a rut over something I would celebrate? It just feels bad. I wish my problem was like that. No, I feel sick when I pick up a pencil now because of how viciously people tried to verbally abuse me just because I said that harassment is bad. I don't even make art like that, but I'm lumped in with the freaks and hurt the same way they are because I dared defend icky art.

I would tell you something that would help you if I could, but I'm honestly at a loss here. You really should be celebrating when you see signs of success, not lamenting the fact that you can't control how people feel about your art. You're literally shooting yourself in the foot over a problem that is not a problem. I understand that it's easy to have blind spots for your own issues, but I'm really not the right person to be ranting to about this. Please find someone else.

[iantimony]

2024 year in review - roundup style, plus bonus graphs!

we're so back! doing things in a slightly different order than last year: first, reviewing the 2024 resolutions.

--> get back on a regular workout schedule: swimming 1x a week, weights once or twice a week. would like to try and work towards my One Pullup goal again. would also be cool to try and work towards a hand/headstand. Ha Ha. yeah. no. did not do great with this one. definitely did a non-zero amount of exercise but I probably averaged about 1 gym visit a week, if that. I think I am going to add a "working out" section to next year's weekly roundup, right now I've been posting that on dreamwidth under my 'gains' tag but I think slapping it in the weekly roundup will help a lot. I've been doing a lot more yoga than normal in December so I would like to keep that going in the new year - I paid for down dog last summer and have actually used it which is good, and I'm doing their 'every day January' challenge thingy so that should be a good place to start. realistically after January I will not do yoga Every Day but I bet I can make it happen 2x a week. more on that in the 2025 resolutions section.

--> try and be more mindful. i'm going to continue the grief therapy but also think about meditating more, doing more yoga, and so on. I got ghosted by my grief therapist at the end of January lol <3 and was quite bad about meditating and journaling especially this year - in 2023 I was really good about regularly journaling and I think it was really good for me but that fell off almost entirely this year.

--> there's a gallery on main street that solicits work from local artists for bimonthy themed exhibitions and i really want to submit at least one thing to it this year! the one due by end of january is themed 'florals', and the one two months after that is 'layers', so i'd really like to submit something to one of those. weeps cries throws up. I didn't even submit to the artists' choice show for December. I should have though - I peeked in the gallery and based on the caliber of work. I absolutely would have made it in. Oh well.

--> more weird art! use that big canvas i bought in literally 2022! paint!!! did essentially Zero painting this year besides some watercolor in a travel journal, Ha Ha. did not do anything particularly weird or fun.

--> finally put together that travel journal from korea & japan (and also scrapbook-ify the papers i have leftover in a pile from that) also did not do this :'D I DID work on my travel journal for England somewhat though.

--> also, maybe do current scrapbook a little different? might need a new binder at the very least. kind of! I did portion off the current binder into just 2021-2022, I have separate 2023 and 24 events in chronological binder sleeves but now that those years are done I think it would be cool to do them in a more traditional book format.

--> hang up that expensive quilt i bought in august IT IS STILL IN A PLASTIC BAG IN MY CLOSET …. however, I DID move into my own place this summer, and my boyfriend is going to help me hang it up in January when he's visiting after the holidays, so. it wasn't done but it's imminent.

--> speaking of quilt: do some hand quilting, english paper piercing! i have so much fucking fabric! did do some of this! have not finished that exact project but I did do some of it! I also have done a lot of Thinking about fabric projects which I know doesn't count but it has been marinating is all I'm saying.

--> find a new apartment to move into that hopefully won't suck! completed! only sucked a little bit to do, and the actual apartment itself is good, if a little dire in terms of insulation!

--> try to secure some sort of summer internship or project that will let me develop some new skillsets that i might not be getting with my current research this failed for last summer but I learned a lot from the process and am very optimistic about this coming summer.

--> finish the masters degree did do this!

--> write…a paper? for the work i just presented??? did not do this! it's complicated! big pain in the ass!

--> keep tweaking neocities and make some more pages basically didn't touch neocities at all this year.

--> keep track of recipes this year as well in my making section this was a success!

i might start a little spreadsheet this year to keep better track of all my stuff because i really did Not want to go through all my separate listening and reading sections and extract what i liked the most, etc. this post required me to first back up a few extra early tuesdayposts from this year to dreamwidth, and then skim all of them to accumulate the above, and that was kinda a pain. and i love an excuse to start a new spreadsheet. I did not actually MAKE the spreadsheet til December but fucking whatever I did do it. and it was great.

of those roughly 15 notes, if I am very generous in what I count as a success, I accomplished about 7 of them! about a 50% success rate implies to me that I was a little too ambitious. this was a 2023 not 2024 resolution but I did partake in bandcamp Friday this year also so that's fun!

now. THE DATA. there is a part of me that really, really wants to whip out some old bokeh macros to sexy-ify this data. that could be fun to host on neocities and/or my real-name website as an example of my data viz prowess. but for now, google sheets plots will suffice. they are not very accessible (color blindness, etc) unfortunately.

behold! a bar chart! this data isn't necessarily 100% correct or perfect, some of these numbers are deffo estimates.

listening: saw more live music this year for sure - saw Haken, St. Vincent, ELO, and Sammy Rae live and they all slapped. lots of podcasts, even more music. April doing some heavy lifting there due to the spotify algorithm playlists, especially the release radar but also other miscellaneous generated playlists.

my bigass 2024 playlist!

reading: I THINK I read significantly less AO3 this year but I read a lot of other articles and a few books! notables were Bunny (bad) and The Left Hand Of Darkness (good) (which I think mirrors last year, which was also [modern lit book] bad [ursula le guin] good if I recall right)

watching: more youtube in the second half of the year than the first. something about background noise maybe.

playing: largely dnd with a smattering of video games and magic the gathering.

making: mostly pottery with some fiber art in there.

eating: yay recipes :-) adding this section was a roaring success. considering compiling a 'favs of 2024' pdf to distribute. should be pretty easy to do so stay tuned for that.

misc: finished masters degree! saw the eclipse in April! became a member of my local temple this year! england/scotland trip!

the 2025 goals!

once again: workout routine! setting this at 1 day of cardio, 1 day of yoga/adjacent, and 1 day of weights per week. this feels sustainable. would like to make it through the yoga every day down dog challenge for January.

reintegrate journaling into my day-to-day.

clean up some digital clutter; organize photos and files, empty..my tumblr likes …… [80k posts]

generally move away from perfectionist tendencies (in writing/journaling (feeling compelled to record Everything), painting, etc)

submit to the gallery on main street for real this time

finish the travel journals

learn some quilting

get back into neocities! maybe start crossposting these on there?

read like...10 books this year

pass my prelim exams ;_;

onwards and upwards. good night and good luck. here's to 2025 :-)

[stabbyfoxandrew]

Hey Aerie! Did someone really just fucking stole an idea from you??? Wtf I'm mad about this.

If you don't want to talk about the werewolf (!!!!!!) Neil au bc of that I totally understand, but I would also listen if you'd talk about it! (I'm maybe a little bit feral about werewolves... I know you like vampires a lot ;-) but I am a slut for werewolves...)

I hope you are asleep right now but have a great day when you read this!! Love you <3

Unfortunately I was not asleep when I got this last night. Lol. It was 2am and I had just laid down. :') <3333 But I love you! <33 Also omg werewolves were my shit when I was younger, then somehow it swapped to vampires? :'))

Also if you want I'll tell you about the 'fic-stealing incident'. It was really annoying but it all worked out and I will now be writing it for the Paranormal Fic Fest instead. YAY! So nothing truly terrible happened but it was stressful and annoying at the time.

Beware: super long ramble under the cut. Unless you're Cody c-lion you probably don't wanna open that. :'))

The reason I never talked about this on my blog is because I figured somehow people would think I was in the wrong and send me mean shit. :') But what happened was... I signed up for the big bang again this year.

I wasn't going to because last year my artist partner literally disappeared and the mod didn't bother to tell me they dropped until I asked if they could check on them. But I figured I'd try again anyhow. So I came up with two ideas. (One being demon neil, which I submitted for the bang. And the other was werewolf neil, which I am SO insane about.)

I wrote outlines for both and decided to use the demon neil one. Then I got my partner assigned and they... Hardly ever responded. I mean, I answered them within minutes. It would take them several days to reply. Every single time. Then it got to a point where they just didn't answer at all for two whole weeks. I figured they were ghosting me, like last year.

They message me the day before the check-in and ask if the art idea (that I suggested) would be alright. Like. They hadn't started at all. I hadn't either, since they had disappeared. I didn't answer. Instead I told the mod I was dropping. And they said they would have another writer write my fic for me. Like...

Uh... It's the first check-in. The artist hasn't done shit yet. Why on earth would you give my fic to someone else? Like normally, this might not have been a problem. If I had been really vague with my idea. But when I wrote out my prompt I gave a lot of detail. I thought the more the better, so the artists would know what they would be working with. However...

Since I gave so much detail, they would've been writing My Fic. Not just a random au where Neil happens to be a demon. I mean I gave a simplified version of the plot? So. That would've been so suckish. But I explained to the mod that I wanted to keep my idea and they said they'd reassign the artist to a different writer instead.

So everything worked out in the end. But I was very, very upset when it was happening. Like... I had a bit of a panic attack. Which sounds stupid I guess. But I had planned this all out and I was in love with it. You don't kidnap a baby and hand it to some rando? TwT (My writing is all I have. I'm aware that it's sad, but it is true.)

Anyhow! I won't be doing a random partner event ever again because the last two have sucked. :')) (This is no shade to the mods or anything. I get it must be hard to run stuff. But partners disappearing and stuff... Sucks major ass. I don't wanna have to depend on a random stranger for a partnered thing.)

The first bang I ever did was amazing! It was for a different fandom, back in like 2017. But the partner I had for that was awesome and really sweet. We were friends for a while afterwards. So I guess my expectations were too high I guess? :')

But yeah! That was all that went down. Nothing terrible in the end. I just got very autistic-ly upset about my baby almost being snatched. (My friend's dms were... full of me blubbering about it:')) That being said! I will definitely have to come and talk about werewolf neil at some point! (And... maybe... add him to wipw... Eventually...)

If you read this far you're a saint. I love you! <3 Muah.

[skibasyndrome]

Your words have made me feel comfort in a way I didn't know I needed. Maybe I was subconsciously looking for it by reaching out...

I want to say thank you first for taking the time to articulate your thoughts. I don't want to assume that it's easy for you because your a writer, i know it can be very hard. Second thank you is for being kind with your words and for understanding where I'm coming from even though you don't owe me anything. I'm not going to lie, I was pretty confident writing what I said and then when I send it, I panicked because maybe that was too much.(If it was I apologize)

I've lost a lot of my yr friends after leaving twt and the community I get here are the writers and I'm well surrounded even though I haven't actually made friends with anyone haha but what i've seen is there's a big support system and even when you'd write about being somehow shy about sharing a smut story that was refreshing to see.

Obviously, it's unfortunately not the same out there in the world just like you mentioned that even when we think we're open there's still some limitation there but we don't have to cage ourselves into those limitation when we create art that is for us most of all.

And you're so right about the cathartic feelings you get from reading or writing fanfic, from even speaking about it with others there is a release of old skin i may say. Maybe this won't be such a big deal to me next time I engage with this topic. The shame takes time to leave and even when you think you've done the work it's hard to not fall back into old patterns but we'll get there.

I love the way art can open door for us that way, I think whenever someone put down their thoughts and feelings there's this incredible thing that happens when without knowing it they've triggered a chain of healing, it's very 'big picture' but I do believe in that. So Thank you for opening up about your own experience, I hope you find yourself in better company now 🫂

Hey anon! So happy to hear from you again! 💜

I'm sooo glad that some of my reply resonated and could even be comforting 🫂🫂🫂 I really meant it when I thanked you for sending your message! Even if it's a topic that isn't "easy" in the sense that there aren't complicated feelings linked to it for me personally, it's also something I like to think about and also really liked writing about, so thank you for that opportunity and for letting me hear your stance! And even though I am a writer I also always worry about getting my points across the right way and being able to articulate myself in a way that's understandable (I actually worry about this more when I'm just writing as myself vs when I'm writing fiction), so, yeah, not "easy" in that sense, but definitely worth it and good :) And don't even worry, nothing you said was too much in any way! Like I said, definitely a topic that's dear to my heart.

I'm really sorry about you losing your friends when you left twitter, that fucking sucks 🫂 But I'm sure I'm not the only one who's glad to have you here! I personally never really spent much time on any other social media to really compare it, but I do feel like tumblr is a good place for building a community. And if you ever want to talk more, my DMs are always open btw :) Or you can just hmu in asks whenever!

Hell yeah!!! That might be one of my favorite aspects of creating anything, but especially fic in my case, that it's just something for us, like you said! It's unapologetically for us, for me the writer and whoever would like to come along and read it.

Aaaaand also spot on with the talking about it! I mean with every text post I reblog about it and every time I post and every time I tell someone a fic idea etc it just gets the tiniest bit easier and lighter. And even this conversation we're having, I think it's making it easier for me, and I'm really happy to hear that it's the same for you! I'm sure we'll all get there some day and we'll be able to leave the shame behind or at least let it get so small that it's not standing in our way anymore. But until then it helps to be kind and patient with ourselves and to remember that we're unlearning a whoooole lot of bullshit that years and years and tons of people have tries to instill in us 💜

And once again, I have nothing cool or new to say, I can only wholeheartedly agree 💜 Art is fucking amazing for that. It can set so much into motion within us, and it can connect us in the most beautiful ways. I think it's wonderful that so many people were touched by yr enough to end up here in this place and to be sharing their thoughts and opinions and art with each other. And I've heard this before, people saying that the way yr portrayed queerness helped them in some way re their identity or, like for you and for me, with some of that internalized shame. Like, not only did the medium inspire change in us, but it made it possible for us to meet and speak to other people who had the same thing happen to them. Gaaah, I can't stop thinking about how cool it is that this show (and, bigger picture, art in general) exists.

Anyways, I think I'm talking in circles, but thank you for initially reaching out and thank you for showing up again, I'm really enjoying this conversation and you're welcome to chime in again and again. I hope you have a great night or day, depending on where you are in the world 🫂💜

[peachiecure]

A reflection on Project: Dimension (logo made by my friend Petal I’m so sorry your work is never actually getting used)

Hello everyone. I’m here to talk about a project that is now defunct. This will be a reflection/info post on what I have personally done for it. Project: Dimension (PD for short) WAS a group project between me and 3 other members, combining our precure fanseries together to form a crossover story with new and familiar characters. It was originally considered a Project SFA spinoff for some reason (looking back at it now, it is MUCH more precure than SFA so I don’t think this really stands anymore), and it was going to be told in comic format. To sum up the plot… Phantom, the god of death, summons the other villains to form a group to take down the precure for their own personal reasons. The precure join together to try to take them down… but a certain turn of events happens. Chaos ensures.

During the project’s beginnings on the platform we were using, the team created teasers, making it interactive with hidden clues so people could dig in and discover what the project is about. We ended up stopping the teasers when we found out only one person was actually trying to find the clues rather than a group of people… I’m so sorry Nitro😭😭 Please take care of yourself. I drew many things for these, some are pictured.

The majority of my work was art, of course, I did have a say in aspects of the story considering that the main character it was focusing on was indeed still my own, Larissa Frausto. Others that were from my projects included Pixelena (Larissa’s precure team’s crazy mascot alpaca), Princess Sweetheart and Dimentio. Yeah, the character choice from my stuff is honestly really funny looking back at it. Like how did Sweetheart and Dimentio get here?? I guess it doesn’t matter now. The main villain, Phantom, was also my own from a RP which was then adapted for PD, and let me tell you I HATE HIM. Like not even in a “oh he’s a good villain because everyone loves to hate him” way NO HE’S LIKE GENUINELY SHOULD HAVE NEVER BEEN MADE. His whole premise is built on a harmful stereotype, and I’m only acknowledging such things now because I have grown since then. Please do not let the teenagers cook sometimes because this… yeah please don’t make a yandere type character and PLEASE don’t make them a GOD. Please. Learn from my mistakes. On my knees BEGGING. Sadly, the whole project REVOLVES around this dynamic between Larissa and Phantom as the plot progresses and I think I don’t need to say where this was gonna go, so I’m just not gonna. It was beyond saving and thus the plug being pulled was for the best. I will enjoy the memories of the team working together, but canning the project was the right decision in the end. It does suck that I put in years of work for it to not go anywhere, but it is what it is.

The final thing I will talk about is Raguel’s old lore for PD. Well… all that I know of it anyways. Raguel in PD is still the god of life, but Phantom, then called Azazel, was like his little brother figure for many many years. Raguel deeply cared for him, even if Azazel was a bit… stoic and didn’t seem to understand emotions. Raguel also had a precure team of his own that he viewed as his daughters. But one day, something was going to happen and Azazel was going to like??— go against him or something… (I DONT ACTUALLY KNOW WE NEVER FINISHED) which then would have resulted in Raguel stabbing out his eye and Azazel killing Raguel’s whole magical girl team. Yeah. Then Azazel gets sealed away by Raguel for 700+ years and when he’s finally freed again, he’s the way you see him now as Phantom who has this BURNING hatred towards him and the precure which was his whole motivation. The prologue pages start when he’s finally freed from the seal… so yeah. I realize this project is a total departure from my usual bubbly stuff.

In the end, PD wasn’t going to affect any of my main project’s lore because it quite literally was going to be revealed at the end that none of it was canon and just someone’s fanfic. PD’s aspects that I liked are being used in other projects. Raguel has been moved to my new persona project, the comic format has been moved to tell SFA’s story now, and Phantom will stay 6 feet under!!! Everyone cheered!!! I want that twink obliterated. Anyways, I feel that I finally have closure on this and can move on so um… thank you for reading me ramble about this. I feel better. NOW TIME TO DRAFT THE NEXT SFA PAGES WITH BLUMIERE AND TIMPANI— (I am dragged away)

I think it is important to me to acknowledge this project and the work I’ve done for it, even if I don’t agree with content included in it now. As humans, we change and grow, and I’ve learned so much since the time this was originally made. Below are the prologue pages that I finished, the final bit of work I did. Thank you for your support.

[cadybear420]

NSFW (and some SFW) Incorrect Quotes: Cadybear's Couples Edition

Inspired by @choicesmc's post and @thosehallowedhalls' post. Quote generator is here.

(Disclaimer, some quotes will be slightly altered from how they appear in the generator)

This is also gonna be a long post because I milked the shit out of the generator to try and see all prompts possible

High School Story: OG Trilogy

Aiden, looking through his clothes: Has anyone seen my top?

Michael: Evie's in the kitchen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Evie: Wait, what's going on? Are we all talking about how hot Aiden is? Because Aiden is a straight up sexual fox riding a red-hot nuclear bombshell right toward the yowza plaza in the heart of Babe City, Assachusetts, U S A. The last A just stands for more ass.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aiden: *sucking on a popsicle*

Michael: Pfft, you practicing for when Evie gets here?

Aiden: *takes a huge ass bite out of the popsicle*

Michael: *Concern*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aiden: We should get you to a doctor for a check up immediately. What if it happens again, and there isn’t anyone around to help you? What if it’s congenital? Oh my God! Was it me? Did I hurt you?

Evie: …You realize any other person that made their partner pass out on bed would simply feel really proud of themselves, right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Evie: "What are you into?" is such a broad question, like do I reply with a TV series or choking?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Evie: Crushes are the worst. Whenever I’m near mine, I start acting stupid.

Aiden: You always act stupid.

Aiden:

Aiden: Wait...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aiden: I know every song to ever exist it doesn't matter if it's from the past, present or the future.

Evie: Oh yeah? Then continue this.

Evie: I don't cook I don't clean-

Aiden: So let me tell you how I got this ring.

Both: .....

Both: GOBBLE ME, SWALLOW ME-

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aiden: I am not a whore, and, not that I’ve done the math, but, if I were, I’d be the super classy kind that gets flown to Dubai to stay in an underwater hotel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Evie: It’s called hentai and it is art!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aiden: Hey, wanna take a shower with me?

Evie: I have a gun in that nightstand beside the bed. If I ever say no to that question, I want you to take it out and shoot me because I’ve obviously gone crazy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Myra: That shirt looks great, Aiden.

Aiden: Thanks.

Myra: But I bet it would look even better on Evie's floor.

Evie: Are you hitting on Aiden... for me?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alan: I committed all 7 deadly sins in 30 minutes.

Emma: Wow, I've gotta hear this.

Alan: I was angry and envious of my neighbor so I lazily seduced his wife and ate all his groceries and didn't share.

Maria: You forgot pride.

Alan: No, I'm pretty proud of this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maria: Make her pussy wet not her eyes.

Caleb: Make his dick hard not his life.

Michael: Break her bed not her heart.

Evie: Play with his boobs not his feelings.

Aiden: Get on her dick not her nerves.

Emma: Always salt your pasta while boiling it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Evie: Hey, random question, what are your favorite flowers?

Aiden: Roses, why?

Evie:

Aiden: Were you going to get me flowers?

Evie:

Aiden:

Evie: ᶦᵗ’ˢ ᵃ ᵖᵒˢˢᶦᵇᶦˡᶦᵗʸ

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aiden: Is there a cactus where your heart should be?

Michael: What’s up your ass this morning!?

Evie: *walks in* ...Hey.

Michael: Hmm… nevermind.

Aiden: WAIT NO!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Evie: How is the most beautiful person in the world?

Aiden: *blushing* I—

Michael, butting into the conversation: Maria is perfect, thanks for asking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aiden: I spy with my little eye something that begins with the letter “s”.

Evie: *looks over at Michael and Maria*

Evie: Is it “sexual tension”?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aiden: Do you want to explain the text you sent me last night?

Evie: It was autocorrect.

Aiden: Autocorrect wrote "You're so hot. Please step on me."?

Evie: Yes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alan: Look, do I consider myself attractive? Yes. But would I have sex with my clone? Also yes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aiden: Priest kink is definitely a thing and I am afflicted by it.

Maria: Go to church.

Maria: WAIT-

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maria: We should be partners.

Michael: You mean like, partners in crime?

Maria: Yeah... that’s precisely what I meant.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Evie: I’ve never asked someone out. How do you even do it?

Michael: Oh, what I do is, I look them up and down and I say: “Hey… how you doin’?”

Aiden, scoffing: Oh, please.

Evie, to Aiden: Hey, how you doin’?

Aiden:

Aiden: *giggles and blushes*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Evie: Hey Maria, wanna third wheel on my date with Aiden tomorrow?

Maria: Sure.

Evie: Michael! Wanna third wheel on my date with Aiden tomorrow?

Michael: Yeah

Evie: Great! I've always wanted to go on a double date!

Maria & Michael: ...

Aiden: Evie...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Evie: Wow, Aiden, you want to hold my hand before marriage? How awfully lewd of you. 

Aiden: We literally slept together yesterday. 

Evie: That's NOTHING compared to the lewdness of holding hands.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aiden: *banging a pen on the table out of frustration*

Evie: Stop that. How would YOU feel if I banged you on the table?

Aiden: I—

Aiden: I don’t know the correct answer to that question.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alan, staring upwards: So, Maria broke up with me… haha…

Aiden: Why are you looking up?

Alan: I need to cry, but my foundation was 48 dollars!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Emma: Why is everyone so obsessed with top or bottom? Honestly, I’d just be excited to have a bunk bed.

Michael:

Michael: I'm gonna tell her.

Maria: Don't you dare.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Maria and Michael flirting with each other yet again*

Evie: And you two are sure you're not dating?

Michael: 100%.

Maria: Of course not! Why would you think that?

Evie: I wonder why that possibility would even cross my mind, Maria. I fucking wonder.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Emma, sweating: Alan, there’s something I need to ask you-

Alan: Finally! You’re proposing!

Emma: How’d you know?

Alan: Emma, you’ve dropped the ring five times during dinner.

Alan: I even picked it up once.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Evie: Well, remember when Aiden made a romantic dinner for me?

Michael: Evie, he microwaved you a pizza.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Violet: Michael is too tall for me to kiss him on the lips. What should I do?

Maria: Punch him in the stomach. Then, when he doubles over in pain, kiss him.

Koh: Tackle them!

Sakura: Dump them.

Wes: Kick them in the shin!

Violet: No to all of those! Just ask me to lean down!!

High School Story: Class Act

Cher: Well, Ajay and I finally did it! 

The rest of the squad: *gasps, shocked expressions, etc.* 

Cher: That's right... We kissed!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ajay: How do you tell someone that you wanna have sex with them in a polite way?

Skye: "Excuse me Ms. Lee, would you give me the honours of indulging in sexual activities with you?"

Rory: What the fuck is wrong with you two?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ajay: I was going to suggest we do Marilyn Monroe and JFK roleplay, but I’d get way too into it.

Cher: What- how?

Ajay: You’d be like “Come to bed… Mr. President” and I’d be like, “I need to increase the amount of American military advisors in South Vietnam by a factor of 18.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Skye: Look, I know you think my judgement's clouded because I like Lilith a little bit.

Cher, holding Skye's notepad: You doodled your wedding invitation.

Skye: No, that's our joint tombstone.

Cher: My mistake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ajay: Someone take me to art museums and make out with me.

Cher: But they said not to touch the masterpieces.

Ajay: Well somebody's got to pin the artwork to the wall.

Skye, on a walkie talkie: This is Skye, those idiots are fucking around in the East wing again.

HSS: Prime

Jordan: How do I ask Julian out?

Ezra: Roses are red, violets are blue, guess what, my bed has room for two.

Jordan: No!

Wes: Twinkle twinkle little star, we can do it in a car.

Jordan: Stop!

Sakura: Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream, merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily I can make you scream.

Jordan: I feel like the last one is verging dangerously into serial killer territory.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Koh: I sleep with a gun under my pillow.

Wes: I sleep with a knife.

Jordan: Both of you are pathetic.

Koh: Oh yeah? What do you sleep with?

Jordan: Julian.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jordan: I’m so happy, I could kiss you!

Julian: Um...Neat.

*later*

Julian, lying face down on his bed: I said “Neat,” Nishan. Who the fuck says neat these days? It’s not neat to say neat but I said it anyways because I’m fucking stupid.

Nishan, reading a book: Don’t beat yourself up too much, Julian. Everyone gets nervous sometimes. Remember what I did when Sakura confessed her love for me?

Julian: Didn’t you thank her?

Nishan: *closes the book and looks at the ceiling* I fucking thanked her.

It Lives in the Woods

Lucas: I am the left brain, I am the left brain. "I work really hard until my inevitable death" brain. You've got a job to do, you better do it right and the right way is with the left brain's might.

Jo: I LIKE OREOS AND BUSSY-

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucas: Know why I called you in here?

Jo: Because I accidentally sent you a dick pic.

Lucas: *Stops pouring two glasses of wine* Accidentally?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jo, to Lucas, Andy, Connor, Dan, and Noah: If we were in prison you guys would be like my bitches.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jo: Hi, sorry I’m late. I was doing a couple of things and got distracted.

Lucas: I’m “a couple of things”.

Andy: I’m “got distracted”.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucas: I didn't drink that much last night.

Ava: You were flirting with Jo.

Lucas: So what? She's my wife.

Ava: You asked if she was single.

Ava: And then you cried when she said she wasn't.

It Lives Beneath

Tom: What’s your body count?

Harper Addison: Do you mean sex or murder?

It Lives Within

Cedric: I’m the sexiest bitch in this therapy waiting room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jocelyn: Look Cedric, I'm not slut shaming you, but...

Jocelyn: Actually yeah, I'm TOTALLY slut shaming you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cedric: I want to wake up with you every day for the rest of our lives.

Jocelyn: I wake up at 4:30 AM every day to train.

Cedric: I want to see you at some point every day for the rest of our lives.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jocelyn: How do I make a date really romantic?

Lincoln: Be mysterious.

Jocelyn: Okay!

*later, while on a date with Cedric*

Cedric: So where are we going?

Jocelyn: None of your fucking business.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cedric: I would never say that my girlfriend is a bitch and I don’t like her. That’s not true… My girlfriend is a bitch and I like her so much!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jocelyn: Stop doing that.

Cedric: Stop doing what?

Jocelyn: Saying things that make me wanna kiss the hell out of you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jocelyn: I am so horny and angry all the time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jocelyn: Go fuck yourself.

Cedric, smugly: Sure, but only if you watch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lincoln: Who would you kill out of the four of us, Joss?

Jocelyn: Abel, easily.

Abel, laughing: What the fuck, man.

Jocelyn: Well, Cedric would be too easy. He’d probably be into it.

Cedric, now standing in the doorway: What the fuck, man!?

Ride or Die

Colt: What are you in the mood for? 

Adelaide: World domination. 

Colt: That's a bit ambitious. 

Adelaide: You are my world. 

Colt: Aww... 

Adelaide:

Colt:

Adelaide:

Colt: OH.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Colt: Do you think sex without love is a sin?

Adelaide: If it is, I’ll see you in hell.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adelaide: My dad is calling… hi Dad.

Toby: Come on guys, stop. She's trying to talk to her dad.

Colt: *loud fake sexual noises*

Mona: EVERYONE SHUT THE FUCK UP!

Logan: *is asleep*

Ximena: *gets really close to the phone* Tell him I said hi

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Colt: If I say I love you, will you say it back?

Adelaide: Yes.

Colt: I love you.

Adelaide: It back.

*Later*

Logan: Why is Colt crying face-down on the floor?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Colt: I think I'm falling for you.

Adelaide: Then get up.

With Every Heartbeat

Sage: My dad died when I was little so whenever someone jokes about fucking my mom I’ll pretend to be really sincere and say some shit like “Glad to see she’s moving on, my dad’s death hit her pretty hard.” Then watch them absolutely fumble trying to figure out a response to that statement.

Sage: Update, she got a new partner I can no longer make the joke.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dakota: Sage, you do remember when we agreed we were better off as friends, right?

Sage, naked in Dakota's bed: No, I absolutely do not.

Dakota, already taking off his clothes: Fuck… Me neither.

Bloodbound

Kamilah: What did Jasmine do this time?

Lily: More like WHO did Jasmine do this time?

Dirty Little Secrets

Peg: Isn’t it weird that we can’t ride any other animal except horses? Like, if horses weren’t a thing, humans would be fucked cause we couldn’t ride any other animals. Like, riding animals wouldn’t really be a thing. We should probably be more grateful to horses.

Alyssa: Elephants.

Peg: Blocked.

Sadie: Camels.

Peg: Extra blocked.

Allison: Donkeys.

Peg: Ultra blocked.

Dick: That dick.

Peg: ...Followed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dick: Relationships should be 50/50. Peg cooks us dinner while I sit on the kitchen counter looking pretty.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dick: We’re getting married, bitches!

Peg: And we're about to make it everybody else's problem.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sadie: Oh look who got laid last night.

Dick: That’s right chumps, missionary accomplished!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dick: I'm gonna have the chicken breasts!

Sadie, snickering: Yeah, eat what you lack.

Dick, deadpanning at Sadie: Then maybe I should order brains on delivery for you.

Shipwrecked

Manu: Smart is attractive. Educate me on something I don't know!

Aoto: The mouth of a jellyfish is also an anus.

Manu: Stop.

(Yes I did just come up with my SW m!MC's name on a whim solely for the purpose of using this quote for them. Say hi to Aoto Aiuchi everybody :DDDD)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aoto: If you bite it and you die, it's poisonous. If it bites you and you die, it's venomous.

Manu: What if it bites me and it dies?!

Aoto: Then you're poisonous. Jesus Christ, Manu, learn to listen.

Manu: What if it bites itself and I die?

Aoto: That's voodoo.

Manu: What if it bites me and someone else dies?

Aoto: That's correlation, not causation.

Manu: What if we bite each other and neither of us die?

Aoto: That's kinky.

Manu: Oh my god.

Endless Summer

Emilia: From now on we will be using code names.

Emilia: You can address me as Eagle One.

Emilia: Jake is “been there done that”.

Emilia: Raj is “currently doing that”.

Emilia: Craig is “it happened once in a dream”.

Emilia: Zahra is “if I had to pick a gal”.

Emilia: And Michelle is...

Emilia: Eagle Two

Michelle: Oh thank god.

America's Most Eligible

Jamie: I like your new pants!

Carson: Thanks, they were 50% off!

Jamie: I’d like them better if they were 100% off. *wink*

Carson: The store can’t just give away clothes for free.

Jamie: Thats’s… not what I meant.

Carson: That’s a terrible way to run a business, Jamie.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MacKenzie: Truth or dare?

Jamie: Dare.

MacKenzie: I dare you to kiss the hottest person in the room.

Jamie: Hey Slater?

Slater, blushing: Yeah?

Jamie: Can you move? I'm trying to get to Carson.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jamie: I asked Carson out.

Bianca: Oh, I’m sorry.

Jamie: Why?

Bianca: Well, I assume he said no.

Jamie: No, he said yes.

Bianca: Really? Then I’m sorry for him.

Murder At Homecoming

Tyler: It’s Christmas! Are you all in a Christmas mood?!

Donovan: Merry crisis.

Stevie: Jingle bells, jingle bells, single all the way.

Peggy: Hoe hoe hoe.

Tyler: Guys, please.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peggy: Goodnight to the love of my life, Tyler, and fuck the rest of y'all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peggy: My future partner must be brave, strong, intelligent, successful and organized.

Tyler: *accidentally steps on a caterpillar, and then proceeds to drop to his knees and sob while apologizing profusely*

Peggy: That one. I want that one.