#but yeah… i’m not going to proceed with this character.

[the-girl-who-didnt-smile]

(Scrapped Concept) Maman la Vie

This is the last time I’m planning to draw this character, and her male counterpart, as they were both conceived in poor taste. 

Lengthy explanation / rant below cut: 

WHY THIS WAS A TERRIBLE CONCEPT FROM THE START

Long ago, I grossly mischaracterized the real-life Baron Samedi and Maman Brigitte like so: 

…In the actual mythology Baron Samedi is like a womanizer who is cheating Maman Brigitte all the time. Maman Brigitte is also really promiscuous…

…In Voodoo, Maman Brigitte is portrayed as a white or light-skinned biracial woman because Maman Brigitte is the only one of the Loa that is European in origin, not African…

OOF! I CRINGE!!!

In all seriousness, the above is an incredibly offensive mischaracterization of the lwa. 

Let’s start with Baron Samedi: I confused him with a different category of spirits, called “Gede”. The male Gede are known for being overtly sexual, but it is not because they are adulterous lechers. They celebrate sexuality because sexuality is the process by which life is created, for death is entwined with life. They also do this for the purpose of mocking social hierarchy - namely, the race/caste system that emerged out of chattel slavery. Zora Neale Hurston describes this at length in Tell My Horse. The reason why the Gede wear top hats actually pertains to this. The Gede are often portrayed as dark-skinned, for they are the spirits of enslaved people. Hence, the favorite spirit of the Black peasantry adopts the dress of the white slave-owning class - the top hat - for the purpose of mocking this social hierarchy. Their overt sexuality also serves this purpose - to alienate the white upper class.

My description of Maman Brigitte is yet more egregious. She is not promiscuous at all, nor is she Caucasian, biracial, or light-skinned.

Here is how the lwa are portrayed by the master painter, Andre Pierre:

Pierre portrays the lwa with a range of skin tones, where some of the lwa (e.g., Ezili Freda, Damballa Wedo) are portrayed as lighter skinned. Maman Brigitte is shown next to Baron Samedi in the bottom right corner.

Here is closer shot of Maman Brigitte, alongside Baron Samedi and Gede Nibo:

Maman Brigitte is portrayed as dark skinned, with the same skin tone as Baron Samedi and Gede Nibo. Additionally, she is not promiscuous, but a dignified and reserved older woman. 

Andre Pierre is not the only Haitian artist to portray her in this manner. She is consistently portrayed this way by Haitian artists, such as Gerard Paul: 

And Roudy Azor: 

Eziaku Atuama Nwokocha describes Maman Brigitte (Gran Brijit) like so: “Gede, like all lwa, has many incarnations, including Bawon Samedi, a guardian of the cemetery; Gran Brijit, an old woman, keeper of the cemetery, and Gede’s partner; and Gede Nimbo, a male spirit who is often honored by queer ­people and who appears as an effeminate dandy.” (p. 37)

Elsewhere: “Gede’s delighted embrace of sexuality is an undeniable display of male desires. The spirit manifests in multiple genders, like his female counterpart Gran Brijit, but only the male version are so explicitly sexual. No female deity in the Vodou pantheon expresses sexual desires so emphatically or bluntly in a ceremony. There are female spirits who are coy, mysterious, vengeful, or wise, but not one proudly proclaims her sexual desires…” (p. 39-40)

Much like her male counterparts, there is a lot of nuance to the portrayal of Maman Brigitte’s sexuality (rather, lack thereof). This too pertains to the history of slavery and the manner in which racism is gendered: “During the centuries of enslavement in Hispaniola, enslaved Black women were subject to routine sexual abuse from White enslavers and others with the power to dominate them. To justify this commonplace brutality, Black women were constructed as hypersexual temptresses and prostitutes who were always available for sexual conquest...To combat the construction of Black women as hypersexual, their sexual desires were ignored entirely, characterized by reductive binaries that placed whores on one side and good, chaste Christian women on the other: there was no room for the actual desires of real women."

Source: Nwokocha, Eziaku Atuama. Vodou en vogue: fashioning Black divinities in Haiti and the United States. UNC Press Books, 2023.

Hence, my description of the lwa was incredibly offensive. I read it from a source that turned out to be not reputable. I apologize for being so careless in my research. 

I do not know why the portrayal of Maman Brigitte as a White or Half White woman has persisted in the public consciousness. Surely, it is because it reinforces racist stereotypes of Black men and colorism against dark skinned Black women. But I think it is also because her name sounds so similar to the Celtic Saint. This does not mean that she is White. For example, the name “Baron Samedi” sounds European. If you didn’t know any better, you might think he is French, as “Samedi” is a French word. But the “Samedi” in “Baron Samedi” is distinctly non-European in origin. It is either derived from the indigenous term Zemi, or it is African in origin. Similar statements can be said to the lwa that arrived in New Orleans; Damballah became “Dani Blanc”, Ogou Feray became “Joe Feraille”, etc. Vodouisants were forced to Europeanize the names of these ancestral deities, who can trace their origins back to Africa. I remain uneducated about the true origins of Maman Brigitte, and it is something I have been meaning to research.

A while back, I spoke to a guy from Haiti on this topic. He got really ticked off and started talking about how terrible portrayals of Baron Samedi and Gran Brijit are. One of the main things he emphasized was how they play into fucked up, racist stereotypes of Black people. He got so pissed off I never got a chance to get to the root of the matter. Now that I’ve taken the time to research this more carefully, I realize just how horrendous the mischaracterizations are. Incredibly offensive descriptions are written in books, which turn into characters in various media that perpetuate these stereotypes. Just look at how common it is to see Baron Samedi portrayed as a lecher, and Maman Brigitte portrayed as a Caucasian or biracial woman! I didn’t fully grasp the gravity of what this man was trying to impress on me, until now. I completely underestimated the volume of misinformation that exists, and the appalling degree to which Vodou has been disrespected. 

I really cannot stress this enough: The lwa are comparable to Catholic Saints. They are not these Satanic demons, and have only been mischaracterized as such due to the demonization of African religions that is rooted in the history of slavery. As far as I can tell, Baron Samedi really is one of the most misrepresented of the lwa; so is Maman Brigitte. Should they ever be put into Hazbin Hotel, I think it would be best to pay tribute to the great Haitian painters of the 20th century. To do otherwise is deeply disrespectful to people in New Orleans, Haiti, and other places in the diaspora. But perhaps this whole endeavor illustrates why it is a mistake to put either one of them into the show - that it does cross the line into cultural appropriation.

My depiction of the “Maman Brigitte”-type character and her male counterpart for sure crosses the line of cultural appropriation... It’s. SO. BAD!!!! I for sure deserve to get canceled for this one… Hence, I intend to correct this egregious error. 

I might not have communicated this well in my previous post, but this is my intention: I have no plans to proceed with the old concept of “Maman la Vie” or “The Baron of Death”. This is the last time I plan to draw either one of them. I want to proceed with what I have been calling “the alternate concept” (i.e., “Baron of the Dead” and “Gran Maman”). I want to swap this “alternate concept” in, and move the old concept into a scrapped folder. If I had the time, I would for sure just go back, redraw old drawings, and delete the old concept. Unfortunately, I work full time, so I probably do not have time to do this. But the old concept bothers me so much, if I have time I will go back and fully redo this. In the meantime, my plans are to develop and proceed with the “alternate concept” (i.e., “Baron of the Dead” and “Gran Maman”). At minimum, I want to draw both of them at least once and refine their character descriptions. These would be moved into the main folder, replacing the old concept.

I hope that makes sense… it probably doesn’t…. Sorry, my brain is tired and communication is not my forte…my creative process is a hot mess and the inner machinations of my mind are an enigma…

ACTUAL IMAGE DESCRIPTION

I still drew her one last time because she is very fun to draw. I would be lying if I said I did not love this character on some level… Her personality is so outrageous, it is really funny to me. This tiny, under 5’ woman is the craziest sexual sadist in all of existence…!

In my brain, this makes so much sense. If you’re the immortal goddess of life who can heal any injury… your mind probably would go to that place, wouldn’t it…?

But yeah. This was totally conceived in poor taste…just, just start firing nukes at me!!! However, I love this character too much to completely scrap her, so instead I am going to reinvent her as a demon. A character with this personality clearly belongs in the setting of Hell. It’s so easy to just turn her into a demon, I don’t know why I didn’t think of this from the start. 

That demon character is named “Lavi”. I guess these outfits would be outfits she might try on if she were to ever assume a human disguise… But she would probably only wear them briefly before stepping into a discount Harley D. Quinn fit. 

The dress on the left is inspired by Nina Kristofferson as Billie Holiday. The dress on the right is inspired by a dress worn by Josephine Baker on May 5th 1953, when she appeared as Flower Girl at the Famous Charity Ball of the "Little white Beds" held at the Moulin Rouge, Paris. At that, I totally think someone in the cast of Hazbin Hotel has got to be styled after Josephine D. Baker herself - ideally, Alastor’s mother. I like that idea so much, I’m actually tempted to try to draw my take on canon Alastor’s mother…

[sagewritings]

Midnight Library - Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

pairing: draco malfoy x female reader

synopsis: your moment alone surrounded by books quickly ends when your boyfriend catches you sneaking out to the library in the middle of the night.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: curse words, smut, unprotected sex (read at your own discretion!)

a/n: hello everyone! i’ve been wanting to write for another character so here it is. do take note that this fic is 18+ and if you choose to proceed, your media consumption is up to you.

if you’d like to check out my other works, you can check the pinned post in my blog :>

i hope you’ll like this fic! happy reading!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

“I didn’t expect to see you here.”

You almost screamed, startled by a familiar voice. You looked up from the book that you were holding and turned sideways to face your smirking boyfriend.

“I didn’t expect to see you here either.” You replied, glaring at him for frightening you. It didn’t affect him at all; in fact, Draco seemed amused.

“You might have forgotten that I’m a prefect. I’m supposed to be out here to check if everyone is in their dormitories.” He explained, crossing his arm. “Meanwhile you, darling, aren't supposed to be here at this hour.”

You groaned, leaning back against your chair. “I’m only here to study, okay? I’m not doing anything illegal.”

“Sneaking out past curfew is illegal.” Draco replied.

Well, you know he’s right but you were not going to tell him that, not with his smug face looking at yours for a reaction.

It’s a few minutes past midnight. You were dressed in your night clothes and a sweater to keep you warm, surrounded by at least five books and a lamp. Truth be told, you didn’t want to be here. You’d rather be sleeping in your dorm room than be seated on a hardwood chair with barely enough light. But with your pride refusing you to fail potions, you decided to sacrifice one night of comfort.

Draco walked closer towards you, his face turning in confusion when he read the titles of the books.

“Potions? Are you studying for a test that I don’t know about?”

You sighed. “No, there’s no test. But I got my results earlier and I feel like I’m going to fail.”

“Why didn’t you just come to me?”

“Because, you’re always busy and I prefer to study alone.” You replied plainly.

Draco rolled his eyes. “You have to go back before another prefect catches you.”

“No, they won’t.”

“This isn’t the first time you sneaked out, didn’t you?” He furrowed his brows.

You smiled innocently, not saying anything. He let out a breath, towering over you while you stayed seated.

“Y/n, get back now.” Draco spoke, sounding authoritative.

You shook your head. “What will you do? You won’t dare subtract points from our house.”

His patience thinning, he leaned down until your eyes were level. One of his hands was placed upon the table, the other was holding the back of your seat. Despite being used to this closeness, you felt intimidated when your boyfriend smiled devilishly.

He closed the gap between the two of you by pressing his lips softly against yours. It took you a second to react, confused that he’s kissing you instead of fighting back.

“What are you doing?” You asked after pulling away from him gently, hands pressed against his shoulder.

“What? Can’t I kiss my girl?” Draco shrugged, standing up again.

You hummed. “Yeah, right.”

“Seriously. We have the entire library to ourselves, we might as well take advantage of it.” He spoke and pulled you up by the hand.

“And what happened to breaking the curfew?” You jokingly asked.

“Fuck the curfew.” Draco replied and pressed his lips to yours once again.

You discreetly pushed aside the lamp and the books, leaning your back against the edge of the table as Draco hungrily kissed you and trapped you with his body. You slowly lifted your hands from his chest to his hair, earning a small groaning sound from the boy.

He deepened the kiss, his hands subtly wrapping around your waist before lifting you up and sitting you down on the table. You wrapped your legs around his hips to pull him close, breathing heavily as he started to kiss the sides of your mouth.

Making out with Draco at the most risky places wasn’t new to you. There’s something about the thrill of getting caught that builds up the heat, and now is one of those times.

You let out a gasp when your boyfriend’s lips went from your mouth to your neck, kissing and sucking your skin softly.

“Hey, no marks.” You reminded him, your breath panting.

“Yes, ma’am.” He whispered, his hands bow sneaking below your sweater. “It’s a bit warm, don’t you think?”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, cheekily removing your sweater and your shirt at the same time. “Happy?” You asked, smirking when you observed his eyes glued to your red bra.

“Very.” He whispered in reply and lowered his head to press small kisses to your breasts.

Your arousal grew when you felt his fingers snaking up your back and within a moment, you felt your bra loosen. You looked down at your boyfriend, catching his smile as he eyed your bra going down. “That’s better.”

You moaned in surprise when his lips wrapped around your left nipple, your back arching as you tried to catch your breath. Without moving his head away from your chest, Draco pulled off his robe while you helped him remove his tie. 

“Draco.” You heaved when his mouth attached to your other nipple, his fingers now working simultaneously as he toyed with the other one. When he was satisfied with the attention that he gave to your breasts, he straightened up his posture once more and you took the opportunity to start unbuttoning his shirt. Your fingers worked hastily while your boyfriend admired the hungry look in your eyes.

You quickly get rid of his shirt, throwing it sideways as you turn your focus on his belt. 

“Someone’s excited.” He chuckled.

“Shut up and help me.” You spat, dropping his belt to the ground.

“Patience, darling. We have a lot of time.” Draco clicked his tongue. He pecked your lips once before crouching down. “Lift your hips slightly, love. Let me take this off of you.”

You obeyed, pushing yourself up from the table to allow Draco to pull down your pajamas and underwear. You took a deep breath at the realization that you were fully exposed, but paid no attention when you caught Draco eyeing your pussy while licking his lips.

“Well, what do we have here?” He smirked, his right hand landing gently on your thigh.

“Draco…” You whined lowly, growing frustrated as his fingers teased you by drawing random circles along your skin.

“What do you want, love?” He asked innocently.

You groaned. “Stop teasing me.”

He smirked. Draco loves nothing more than seeing you surrender to his touches, your sarcasm staying intact despite being desperate. And right now, he’s enjoying the growing smell and wetness of your arousal.

Removing his hand from your thigh, he pressed a finger against your clit and wrapped his other arm around you to keep you in place. You jolted forward, the pressure alone is enough to stimulate pleasure to your core. “Fuck.”

Draco’s finger gently circled your clit, both his cock and smile becoming larger at the sight of you. He surprised you by pressing two fingers in, his thumb taking over your clit. He began pumping, enjoying your moans mixed with the sound of your wet folds.

“Fucking hell, Draco. More.” You demanded through deep breaths, your chest rising and falling.

Draco didn’t respond, instead pulling out his fingers after a few moments. Your brows pinched together in confusion, looking at him as he brought his fingers to his mouth.

“You taste amazing, darling.” He smirked and watched as you stared at his lips. After licking his two fingers clean, he lifted his hands and brought his thumb in front of your face. “Open.”

Without hesitation, you opened your mouth and took his thumb in. You sucked, tasting yourself and letting out a moan while maintaining eye contact.

“Fuck.” Draco spoke, feeling his cock straining. 

After you’re done licking his finger, he pulls down his trousers and underwear. Despite seeing him naked multiple times, you still can’t help but be amazed at his size, your thoughts growing wild with desire.

You watched as Draco kneeled in front of you, his eyes being on the same level as your folds. He pulled you nearer to him, your lower half almost hanging off the edge of the table as he wrapped your legs around his shoulder.

“You gotta keep quiet, baby. We don’t want to get caught now, do we?”

Without any warning, Draco pressed his face to your pussy, his tongue expertly slipping inside and sucking on your clit.

“Fuck!” You moaned aloud, instantly forgetting his words as you pressed your weight against the bookshelf behind you.

Draco slapped your thigh softly. “What did I just say?”

You ignored him, too focused on the pleasure that you’re feeling to control the sounds from your mouth. You squirmed against his lips, grinding your hips upwards to get more. Your boyfriend smiled proudly.

“Yes, yes, Draco…. Shit.”

He pulled one of his hands away from you, lowering it to pump his manhood. His occasional moans caused vibrations throughout your body, your toes curling and your eyes shutting. Whatever information that you got from reading those potions books earlier was now thrown out of the window.

Draco felt your legs shake and he started to pull away. He needed you to cum, but not yet.

“W-what?” You asked desperately, almost whining at the loss of contact.

He gently shushed you, standing up and lining his cock directly at your slits. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll finish you right here.”

He pushed himself into you inch by inch, your warm folds wrapping around him perfectly. Draco groaned at the damp and tight feeling surrounding him, head falling back in pleasure as he settled perfectly within you.

You moaned once more, loudly this time as he started thrusting, his rhythm steady yet forceful. You repeatedly called his name, hands gripping the edge of the table as you shake in pleasure. Draco looked down to watch himself disappear inside you, eyes filled with darkness and pride every time his hips meet yours. He grabbed your thighs and pushed your legs forward, almost keeping them against your chest.

“That’s right, darling. Moan my name.” Sweat started to form on his forehead, his thrusts becoming harsher and quicker in desperate need. “C’mon, Y/n. Let me see you cum.”

“Draco…” You cried, your cunt clenching and throbbing. He pumped several more times before he completely pulled out, pulling you up with him.

Still dizzy from pleasure, you stood shakily, letting him maneuver your body as he desired. Draco turned you around, both of you now facing the shelves as he pushed your body to lean on the table. He kept your leg foot on the ground while he lifted your right, giving him easy access to your pussy.

He looked at your ass and caressed them swiftly before he entered you again, his thrusts becoming twice as hard.

“Fuck, Draco, please…” You weren’t sure what you were begging him for. All you knew is that you needed a release. 

“Yes, baby. Say my name, go on.” He cooed, his hand sneaking up to your front to grab one of your breasts as the other came down to your clit.

The pleasure was overwhelming as Draco focused on every part of you as possible. Both of you panting and covered in sweat, his hands working wonders on your clit and nipple while he perfectly filled your cunt. Your hands grabbed at the bookshelf in front of you, head leaning back to his shoulder.

You knew you were close when you started to feel something up in your lower stomach, the urge to cum increases with every thrust. You knew Draco was close too when you felt him twitch inside you, a warm liquid beginning to leak.

“D-Draco, I’m…”

“I know, baby. Cum with me. C’mon, pretty girl.” He whispered closely in your ear, maintaining the speed of his thrusts as he rubbed your clit faster.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You almost screamed when you reached your orgasm, Draco following shortly after with a deep groan. Neither of you moved for a while, still breathless and shaking.

Draco rubbed your back and slowly pulled himself out of you, both of you moaning in the process. You sighed and turned around, leaning back against the table once more to keep your balance.

“Are you alright?” Draco touched your cheek, confused and concerned when you didn't say a word.

You smiled back and laughed lightly. “No, I feel like my knees are about to give out.”

He smirked, guiding you to a chair before gathering both of your clothes on the floor. “That’s what you get for sneaking out.”

“If this is the punishment for sneaking out, then I’ll see you again tomorrow night.” You smiled cheekily. “For potions lessons.”

Draco laughed before pulling out his wand and motioning it towards the two of you, your clothes magically reappearing on your bodies. He cleaned the table as well before pulling your hand.

“Let’s go before Filch catches us.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Meet the Family 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: um I woke up to this in my head. Sorry.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You honk your horn as another driver slowly veers toward the line. You’re not letting them in. If they can’t weave in, then they aren’t fast enough to leave the slow lane. You sigh and gesture at them as kindly as you can in that instant. You have enough going on. 

Your phone starts to ring. Again. You tap the button on your steering wheel to answer. You would know who it is even without his custom ringtone. Your boss allows no space for breathing, even on a call. 

“How far out are you, pixie?” Lloyd asks as you growl and lean on the gas pedal. You hate driving on the highway, especially at night, and the sky is steadily dimming. 

“Close,” you assure him. “Next exit,” you flip your blinker on. 

“Thank god. You got everything?” 

Yeah, everything you forgot. You don’t give the dry retort aloud. You know better. Where your boss has no filter to be found, you find yourself often censoring yourself. As much for his ego as for others’. Arguing never gets you anywhere. 

“I believe so--” 

“You believe or you do?” He asks impatiently. 

“Mr. Hansen, I got everything on the list,” you assure him. “All with a bow on top.” 

“A life saver, pix, I swear,” he praises, but a compliment from him is rarely genuine, more transactional. You did him a favour so he’ll give you a treat. 

“Alright, I need to get over, ramp’s coming up. So--” 

“Yeah, yeah,” his ends rustles and you hear a muffled female voice, “I got shit going on too. You got the address, text me.” 

He hangs up first. You can never be the first to end the call. He has to make the decisions. You just know how to guide him to the right one. You merge into the exit lane and follow the ramp away from the whirring stream of headlight. Finally. 

You’re less than pleased to be within minutes of your destination. This isn’t how you envisioned your holiday. A last-minute itinerary change to fix yet another of Mr. Hansen’s oversights. It’s never a mistake, he’s just a man with so much going on that it slipped his radar. Another bandage for his ego. 

The slower pace feeds your agitation. At least on the highway, you felt like you were getting somewhere. The lazy roll of the cars in the town tweaks at the nape of your neck. You just want to be in one place and that won’t happen even when you get to Mr. Hansen. 

You’ll be lucky to have two hours of sleep before you have to catch your rebooked flight. Yep. You’ll play Santa and drop off your lot before hiding at the hotel long enough to dread the airport jungle. Then it’s off to your own familial obligations. Those are rarely enjoyable and being a day later than promised will hardly please your mother. 

Your phone announces your arrival at the destination. The long drive of the over-sized suburban mansion is full. You park on the street and turn on the interior light. You get out and open the back seat. The whole medley of shiny paper and quaffed bows stares back at you. 

You text Mr. Hansen and wait, huffing and puffing with impatience. Of course, you have to upheave your plans to meet his deadlines, but he’s taking his time. It’s not a surprise, not even a disappointment, you expected as much. 

“Pixieee,” Lloyd drags out the last syllable, “there you are, pretty pixie.” 

Pretty Pixie? He’s drunk or he’s going to ask for something else. You brace yourself as his shadow struts up the long driveway and passes beneath the cone cast by the tall street lights. Coloured lights glimmer over him from the eaves of the surrounding facades. 

“Mr. Hansen, wrapped, labelled, everything you requested,” you gesture to the backseat. 

“An angel. A true saviour, pixie,” he surprises you as he grabs your head, his palms pressing to your cheeks as he bends to kiss your forehead, “did I ever tell you you’re immaculate?” 

“Mr. Hansen,” you gently pull his wrists until he drops his hands. You smell the alcohol radiating off of him. 

“It’s the holiday, call me Lloyd, sweet cake,” he insists. 

“Right,” you tut and turn to drag out the largest gift bag, “here, you better just take all this, I have to check-in--” 

“About that,” he ignores the gift as you hold it out. “We’re just about to start dinner, you should pop in, have a bite.” 

“I can’t, Mr. Hansen--” 

“Of course you can,” he insists. You look up at him. His eyes gleam in the spectrum of lights shining from your car, the houses, and the tall poles. You sniff. He’s only tipsy, there’s still the hint of authoritarianism firmly implanted in his tone. “I told everyone you would.” 

“Everyone?” You echo anxiously. 

“The family,” he exclaims as if it should be obvious. 

“Okay, I can come say hello but--” you wiggle the bag at him. 

“Damn right you can,” he catches your hand and takes the bag. He drops it on the ground carelessly. 

“Mr. Hansen, that’s fragile,” you say. 

“Shhhh,” he grabs your hand and you curl and unfurl your fingers desperately, “Lloyd, remember?” He feels around in his pocket as he keeps you in his vice, “now, you just need to slip this on.” 

He struggles to line up the ring with your finger as you squirm in confusion. What is he doing? 

“Mr. Han--” 

“Lloyd,” he growls, all humour trickling away. He squeezes until you whimper. “Look, I just need you to smile and bat those long lashes of yours, alright?” 

“What’s going on?” 

“As far as anyone knows, I proposed to you on Thanksgiving,” he says. 

“Proposed?!” You nearly shriek. 

He hushes you again and finally rams the ring down to your knuckle. “Look, pixie, mommy’s being a real pain in my ass so you just need to play along.” 

“Mr.--” 

“If I have to tell you one more time--” 

“Lloyd,” you gulp, “please. I... this is... strange. What? Why? I have a flight in eight hours.” 

“Cancel it,” he sneers. “Double time and a half for holiday overtime. See the family in the New Year.” 

“What? That’s-- This is insane--” 

“This is your job, honey,” he clings to your hand. “To do what I say or you can spend your January trawling the job boards.” He squeezes until the band digs into your flesh. “Now, I know Mr. Walker thinks you’re darling and he offered you a role last year but once I tell him about your little defiance issue, I don’t think he’ll be interested--” 

“Huh?” 

“I know a lot more than you think,” he grits. “Alright? So let’s start getting this shit inside. That’ll give you a chance to get yourself together.” 

“Lloyd,” you gasp. “Why--” 

“No more fucking question. Since when did you get so uppity,” he barks. 

“Sir--” 

“Ah, none of that, either,” he lets you go and waggles his finger in your face. “Relax. Have some eggnog when we get inside and take the edge off.” 

“This can’t be happening,” you murmur. 

“It’s fucking happening, alright?” He picks up the bag off the ground. “I keep you around ‘cause you’re quick on your feet, Pix, so let’s get to it.” 

“Oh god,” you utter. 

“Keep it to yourself,” he warns. 

Your disbelief has you a bit dumb. You’re panicking. He knows you have an insurance policy with Walker and you have no doubt he’ll do all he can to spoil your future if you fuck around with his present. You’ve worked long enough for him to believe his threats, even when everything else is dubious. 

You turn and grab several gifts from the backseat. You move out of his way and he gathers some more himself. He backs up and uses his knee to close the door. He nods you toward the house. 

“Smile, act like you’re excited,” he commands. 

You pass him and stare up at the blaze of holiday lights. The lawn is decorated with a Santa and sleigh, complete with all his reindeer. You make the march up the walk and towards the glowing windows that trim the front door.  

Lloyd comes up next to you and kicks it, “open up.” 

It isn’t long before obedience appears from the other side. You do a double take at the man who answers the door. He looks a lot like Lloyd but not. He doesn’t sport the same bristly stache and his hair neatly combed, the sides unshaved but tidy. He rolls his eyes. 

“Was hoping you got lost in the snow,” the man scoffs. 

“Shut up,” Lloyd shoulders through, “always a fucking prick, Hugh.” 

The other man snarls, “don’t fucking call me that.” 

“Aw, I’m sorry, baby boy,” Lloyd puts the gifts on the bench against the wall, under the large mirror with an elaborate frame. “Why don’t you go suck on mommy’s teat?” 

“You’re disgusting,” the other man, Hugh, hisses. 

“Speak for yourself. We’re the OnlyFans thot? She not joining us?” 

“Oh, fuck you.” 

“Fuck you, fuck me, we already did this, remember?” Lloyd faces him. 

“And who’s this slut?” The man tosses you a sharp glare.  

“Woah, man, that’s my future wife,” Lloyd lies so easily it startles you. He sounds almost genuine and you’ve never heard him sound like that. “Not a slut, so keep your eyes and your hands to yourself.” 

“Huh, I didn’t believe it,” the man puts his hand on his hip as he looks you up and down, “she’s tiny.” 

You narrow your eyes, speechless as they talk about you like a new lamp. 

“Ransom,” Lloyd gestures to him derisively, “Pixie. Now you’ve met so you can skedaddle back to the liquor cabinet.” 

The man, Ransom, snickers, “good luck, sweetheart,” he scoffs. “If you need a drink, just look for me. You probably will. At least for the next forty years.” 

He struts off through the archway behind him and you look at Lloyd. He takes the armful of gifts from you and grumbles. He stops and crosses his arms.  

“Well, get your boots off. Mom will kill you if you’re tracking salt all over her freshly polished floors,” he shakes his head. “And a bit of advice, stay away from my cousin. Ransom’s a fucking pest.” 

“Right, sir.” 

He tilts his head and you show your palms, “Lloyd.” 

“Good girl,” he says and slips free of his loafers. “Now, you’re going to have to meet my parents before anyone else or I won’t hear the end of it. I’ve already got an earful. I know I shoulda booked that resort...” 

You unzip your boots and set them aside on the rack. You stand and he beckons you past the open archway and down the hallway. You take in the decor; gold on beige on ivory. It’s all very luxurious. 

He pushes through a white birch door and warmth enshrines you along with the smell of turkey. There’s a clattering beneath a shrill voice snapping out orders, “oh, not mashed, whipped!” 

A tall blonde woman crosses her arms as she hovers like a vulture over the aproned staff crowded around the large marble island. Lloyd grabs your hand and drags you after him. Your socks slip on the tile as dread coils up your limbs. 

“Mom, she’s here,” he announces as he gets close to her. 

“Ugh, about time, they already set the table and I was dreading the empty plate,” she slithers. She turns her chin down to see you, “Oh, look at her. She’s so... petite.” She levels her hand with the top of your head, “much different than I envisioned.” 

You look at Lloyd as he pushes his shoulders back. You’ve never heard anyone talk to him like that and you’ve never seen him so uptight. You turn your attention back to the woman. 

“Hello, Mrs. Hansen, it’s nice to meet you,” you offer your hand. 

She considers it then grabs it, turning the ring up. You examine the jewel as she does the same, your first glimpse at the thing. She harrumphs, “that’s the ring?” 

“Mom,” Lloyd utters. 

“Mm, very well. Dear, you may call me Gwenyth, not Mrs. Hansen,” she lets you go. “Now, dear son, out of my way. I’m trying to get dinner done.” 

Lloyd stares at her, almost expectantly, the takes your hand again and leads you away. He pulls you back through the door. You don’t dare say a word. He leads you away from the kitchen and the wall of voices buzzing from the front room. He guides you through the archway opposite and around to another door. 

He knocks and there’s a lull as you wait. He taps again. There’s coughing from the other side. “What do you want?” 

“Just me, Dad,” Lloyd answers. 

“Ugh, get in here then,” the timbre calls back. 

Lloyd twists the knob and urges you in ahead of him. The smell of cigar smoke blows in with the cold wind. A gray-haired man puffs by the window, his efforts to puff through the opening sabotaged by the wintry gusts. 

“Close the door. I don’t need the banshee sniffing me out,” he growls. 

“Sure,” Lloyd shuts the door. “Dad, uh, this is her. The woman I told you about. My fiance.” 

“Took you long enough,” the man sneers. You flinch and his grey eyes soften, “him, I mean. Forty-three years--” 

“Dad,” Lloyd rasps. 

“Well,” his father looks you over, “she’s young. Bit small...” 

You do your best not to let your annoyance show. So you’re a little shorter than average. 

“William,” he introduces himself, “and you are?” 

“Pixie,” Lloyd answers for you. 

“Didn’t ask you, boy,” William rebukes and keeps his eyes on you. “You smoke?” 

You mull his question and sigh, “never tried it but I guess it’s never too late to start.” 

William snorts, “truer words.” He puffs, “I don’t recommend it. Horrible habit.” He tamps out the stogie in a copper tray. “Well then, is the food ready, or did you just come to show me your woman?” 

Lloyd stiffens and touches your lower back, “guess I just came to do that.” He mutters, “come on, let’s go get something to drink.” He turns and opens the door. 

“Don’t let the smoke out,” William snips as you spin around. 

[moonstruckme]

MAE I'm sorry, I thought of another (no pressure at all of course). maybe hot cocoa - send a character + a prompt with Spencer Reid and reunion? Maybe Spencer wasn't supposed to be home in time for the holidays and surprises his love??? AH so cute ok sorry I'll retreat back into my cave now thanks love you byeeee

Never ever be sorry lovely!! Thanks for your request <3

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 465 words

You set your keys on the counter when you come in, your cheeks tingling pleasantly from the change of the cold wind to your warm home. You’re carrying a small bag of presents which you set down next to your keys before taking off your shoes. It takes you a few seconds to realize something isn’t the way you left it a few hours ago. 

The Christmas tree is lit, its warm glow emanating from the living room and casting hazy shadows on the walls. 

You don’t proceed with as much caution as a woman who’s expected to be alone in her home likely should. You know Spencer and most anyone from his team would crow at you for leaving your mace with your keys by the door; but really, what creature of malintent plugs in the Christmas tree? You find Spencer sleeping on the couch, shoes nowhere to be seen but still in his work clothes. 

The smile that takes you is ginormous. He looks especially lovely. The gentle glow of the lights makes the curves of his face look soft and sweet, cherubic almost, but you’d be just as happy to see him if he were rough and grimy and frowning in his sleep. 

“Spence,” you murmur, crouching beside him. You touch his shoulder gently. “Spencer.” 

His eyes move under his eyelids before they open, settling blearily on you. “Hi.” His voice is rough but tilts up with pleasure. He blinks his way into the world. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to doze off.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” you say, beaming. “What’re you doing here? What about the case?” 

“We, uh…” Spencer sits up, rubbing his face. “We solved it. They haven’t caught the guy yet, but I’m never as helpful with that part as Morgan or JJ anyway. I wanted to be with you.” 

Your cheeks are starting to hurt. You hug him fiercely. It’s awkward and half sideways, but full of more love than you can express. Spencer seems to get it. 

“I know how much Christmas means to you,” he says, folding an arm around your back. “I didn’t want to miss it.” 

Whatever he says, you know how much finishing out a case means to him, too. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you got here,” you offer. “I’d have come home.” 

“That’s okay, I didn’t want you to cut your celebration short.” Spencer’s pinkie sweeps in slow arcs between your shoulder blades. “We’re together now, right?” 

You let him go to take his face in your hands, thumb denting softly into his cheek to make sure he’s really there. “Yeah,” you say, kissing him. “Thanks for coming home, Spence.” 

“Thanks for having me,” he says, a bit awkwardly. His smile when you laugh is the brightest thing in the room. 

[wisteria-lodge]

JK Rowling & the Color Pink

So I'm working on a thing about queer coding in the Harry Potter books... and first I needed to do a sidebar on how the color pink is used. I’ve made a list of every time a character either wears pink, or is heavily associated with a pink object. We actually get some pretty clear categories that are unintentionally very revealing, and say a lot about how JKR sees "girly" femininity.

Let’s start off with the obvious: 

PINK = VILLAIN (FEMME) 

Petunia Dursley: “salmon-pink cocktail dress," "neat salmon-colored coat." Also paints her walls "a sickly peach color."

Gilderoy Lockhart: “lurid pink robes to match the decorations” 

Pansy Parkinson: “very frilly robes of pale pink” 

Rita Skeeter: “long nails were painted shocking pink” 

Aunt Muriel: “feathery pink hat gave her the look of a bad-tempered flamingo.” 

(Aunt Muriel only shows up briefly at Bill and Fleur’s wedding, but then proceeds to insult pretty much every other character, and give Harry an existential crisis by spilling the tea on Dumbledore)

Dolores Umbridge: “a horrible pink Alice band that matched the fluffy pink cardigan.” 

(Also: has pink stationary, and her pamphlet MUDBLOODS and the Dangers They Pose to a Peaceful Pure-Blood Society has a pink cover) 

Cho Chang

(Okay. Not a villain per se, BUT. Cho is the reason the mole gets into the DA in the books (and just is the mole in the films.) And given that she is a sort of Umbridge-aligned sub villain in book 5, at least structurally... it IS interesting that the place she brings Harry for a date has this very pink, Umbridge-coded description. 

It was a cramped, steamy little place where everything seemed to have been decorated with frills or bows. Harry was reminded unpleasantly of Umbridge’s office. “Cute, isn’t it?” said Cho happily. “Er . . . yeah,” said Harry untruthfully. “Look, she’s decorated it for Valentine’s Day!” said Cho, indicating a number of golden cherubs that were hovering over each of the small, circular tables, occasionally throwing pink confetti over the occupants.

Fleur Delacour: “[her wand] emitted a number of pink and gold sparks.” 

(Also not quite a villain, and I adore Fleur BUT… she’s written hyper-femme in an intimidating, borderline threatening way. She’s very opinionated, bordering on rude. She’s “full of herself” as Ginny puts it. And when she gets engaged to Bill and becomes an unambiguously good guy, she has this interesting moment of ~Pink Rejection~)

“. . . Bill and I ’ave almost decided on only two bridesmaids, Ginny and Gabrielle will look very sweet togezzer. I am theenking of dressing zem in pale gold — pink would of course be ’orrible with Ginny’s ’air —”

Hermione Granger: “Wearing a pink bathrobe and a frown”

(Hermione wears pink exactly one time, and it is at her most villainous… during Book 1, when she tries to stop Harry and Ron leaving in the middle of the night to go duel Malfoy.)

A voice spoke from the chair nearest them, “I can’t believe you’re going to do this, Harry.” A lamp flickered on. It was Hermione Granger, wearing a pink bathrobe and a frown. “You!” said Ron furiously. “Go back to bed!” “I almost told your brother,” Hermione snapped, “Percy — he’s a prefect, he’d put a stop to this.” Harry couldn’t believe anyone could be so interfering.

(She literally does the sitting-in-the-dark, villain-lamp thing. Also, in case you were wondering, yes Hermione DOES get a moment of ~Pink Rejection~)

Near the window was an array of violently pink products around which a cluster of excited girls was giggling enthusiastically. Hermione and Ginny both hung back, looking wary.

Which brings us too: 

PINK = SILLY/FRIVOLOUS (FEMME) 

Sybill Trelawney: “after you’ve broken your first cup, would you be so kind as to select one of the blue-patterned ones? I’m rather attached to the pink.”

(She’s a fraud. Also hides empty bottles of sherry in the room of requirement. (I’m going to have to be uncharitable in this section, so am sorry.) 

Parvati Patil: “robes of shocking pink"

(Often described as “giggling,” thinks Professor Trelawney is amazing, the real deal.)

The Fat Lady: “a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.” 

(Often described as giggling. Drinks too much during the holidays. JRK is unfortunately well known for being fatphobic. Also the Fat Lady has a friend named Violet, and Parvati has a friend named Lavender. Not really going anywhere with that, just funny that they’re both shades of purple.)

Hepzibah Smith: “an immensely fat old lady wearing an elaborate ginger wig and a brilliant pink set of robes.” 

(So… almost identical description to the Fat Lady. And I think we should maybe talk about her more, maybe? Because the way she’s framed… I think she might be Tom Riddle’s sugar mamma?)

“I brought you flowers,” he said quietly, producing a bunch of roses from nowhere. “You naughty boy, you shouldn’t have!” squealed old Hepzibah, though Harry noticed that she had an empty vase standing ready on the nearest little table. “You do spoil this old lady, Tom. . . .” 

(Or maybe we… shouldn’t talk about that. Either way, Tom Riddle does kill her, steal her stuff, and frame her house elf so thats… not great.)

PINK = EMBARRASSING 

“Everyone take a pair of earmuffs,” said Professor Sprout. There was a scramble as everyone tried to seize a pair that wasn’t pink and fluffy.

(Pink fluffy earmuffs are adorable.)

“Wash out your mouth,” said James coldly. “Scourgify!” Pink soap bubbles streamed from Snape’s mouth at once; the froth was covering his lips, making him gag.

(The next two example are 'pranks' as well, I think the pink-colored soap is there to add a kind of insult to injury.)

Shocking-pink Catherine wheels five feet in diameter were whizzing lethally through the air like so many flying saucers. 

(This is a bit from Fred and George’s farewell firework show, it's funny that they’re specifically pink fireworks that Umbridge can’t get rid of.)

“Headless Hats!” shouted George, as Fred waved a pointed hat decorated with a fluffy pink feather at the watching students. “Two Galleons each — watch Fred, now!” Fred swept the hat onto his head, beaming. For a second he merely looked rather stupid, then both hat and head vanished.

(also just, pumping up an embarrassing moment)

PINK = OUTSIDER, WEIRDO

Hagrid

Hagrid’s flowered pink umbrella, which contains his broken wand, is brought up a lot. In this case I think we’re meant to see it as a joke. Hagrid’s so big, and so masc, but the pink umbrella makes him non-threatening. However… the pink umbrella, it’s not a totally positive thing, is it? It doesn’t match, it isn’t *him.* Hagrid wouldn't have chosen to carry this around, totally on his own, if he'd had any other choice. It sets him apart, both visually and socially (because it's a constant reminder that he doesn't have a wand.)

Dobby

Dobby, once he is freed, gets pink-and-orange striped socks, and they’re meant to communicate that he’s… kind of a lot. “Yeh get weirdos in every breed,” as Hagrid puts it. JKR has a very strange, honestly antagonistic relationship with Dobby. He’s the victim of book 2, but structurally kind of the villain? He describes the house-elves situation as “enslavement,” but Hermione’s treated as overdramatic for calling house-elves slaves two books later. And then everything is ret-conned and Dobby is… just kind of weird for liking freedom (and socks) as much as he does.

Tonks

Book!Tonks defaults to “bubblegum-pink” hair. Her hair is described as pink a lot. (Movie!Tonks defaults to purple hair, because they were worried that pink would visually align her with Umbridge.) And this is the oddest one on the list to me, because Tonks is such a universally beloved, fan favorite character. But I really do think that *as written*... we’re supposed to put her in a category with Dobby. The two of them leave (unintentional) destruction in their wake. They’re loud, they’re a lot, they take up too much space. Harry thinks they’re both kind of annoying. (and yeah, Harry 100% thinks  Tonks is “a little annoying at times.”)

[shiny-jr]

from IGNIHYDE

- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Gender-neutral reader.

- Characters: Idia Shroud, Ortho Shroud.

- Summary: (Continuation, after this “we just got a letter, wonder where it’s from”) You have barred them from entering the safety of Ramshackle Dorm, but they are determined to make their words reach you. Which is why the letters begin arriving at your doorstep.

- Note: This seems a little more low-key than Diasomnia, but the obsession is there if you squint. It’s just way more low-key than the previous group. For some reason I feel like I maybe wrote Ortho a little off? Not sure. Feel free to tell me your thoughts.

Diasomnia   |   Ignihyde   |   Pomefiore

The break ends quickly. Too quickly. Before you know it, you’re back in front of the mountain of unread letters that appears even more ominous than before now that you could guess what sort of dark contents they may hold. 

For your own peace of mind, you’ve decided to read only two and then take a pause right after. 

The first of which was just a simple long white envelope. That’s it. There was nothing that stood out about it, no special seal or stamp. It was just the generic type of encasing that made it look like it was some sort of bill instead of a letter containing what was bound to be a message that unsettled you in some way, shape, or form. 

When you removed the letter, you was surprised to see that it wasn’t handwritten, it had been typed and printed out. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who this was from. 

Player, 

I messed everything up.

I don’t even see a point to doing this, writing this for you. I mean, if I were you, I’d never want to see my no-good miserable face ever again. I’d go to every length just to avoid even speaking to me again, and to spite them I’d never even show myself around again. But–– Ortho was making a letter and brought my keyboard to my lap. He said it was worth a shot, and if anything, it could be used as an apology so... sorry.

Any sorry would sound half-assed, considering what happened. It’s not like it matters, since I’m sure you wouldn’t read this. I imagine you would figure out it’s from me, and proceed to tear it up, burn it, whatever. And honestly? Valid. At this point, I’m sort of using it as a vent. Usually, I’d be telling Ortho all this, but all these thoughts I’m having would only bum him out and he’s depressed enough as it is. 

You know what sucks besides all of this? The fact that I genuinely tried. I actually tried to be a help for once, and like it always ends, my attempt to help screwed it up even more. Maybe if I had kept my mouth shut and minded my own business while holing myself up in my room like I always do, things wouldn’t have turned out this bad. If I just did what I was good at, which is nothing, Ortho and I might’ve avoided the shitstorm. Everyone else is currently throwing pity parties and plotting these super over elaborate schemes to try and interact with you by luring you out of the Ramshackle place. 

Ortho’s been coming up with plans too with other guys from the dorms that are just so desperate for your attention. It’s sad to watch, pathetic too, but I don’t have the heart to tell him not to bother with it. And me, I know better. If I were in your position and I saw all these attempts, it would definitely make me extra bitter and just hate everyone even more. Oh, I just remembered something worth mentioning. You may not believe me, I mean, I wouldn’t believe a single word coming from me, but I wasn’t actually going to hurt Grim. You though? Before I knew who you were? Yeah. Don’t get it twisted though, I was just doing it to fix everything until the whole truth got leaked not too long after.

Call me stupid, I guess. When I first saw how others revered you like how a bunch of creepy basement-dwellers look at a pretty perfect idol on a shiny bright stage, it was a major red flag. I wanted nothing to do with you. But when you started worming yourself into my life and I started getting attached, well, that made me a creep too for liking you. Red flags be damned. What can I say? Your presence even through Yuu, made me feel like I mattered, which is something I don’t experience a lot. 

You’d never know it, but I took risks just to be in the same room as your avatar. 

Missing special events on games, losing the chance to catch a concert live on screen, even ditching group calls with teammates and friends... All of that was utterly worthless if I got at least a solid sixty seconds by you. 

Unlike everyone else, I know better than to just show up at your doorstep and beg for forgiveness like some misguided puppy. Malleus and co. have been making sure you’re not disturbed, guarding you like a pack of guard dogs or something, preventing anyone from embarrassing themselves and messing up any further. Ortho said I should at least try to call you, I think he just wants to hear your voice. But why bother? 

Don’t get it wrong, I’m not just letting everything go just like that. As much as I’d like to, and I know it’s probably the “healthy” and “good” thing to do, I don’t want to. I’m not good, you know that already. I’ll keep in the background this time, and try not to mess up again. Although no guarantees, because with my lousy luck, I know something will inevitably go wrong. Don’t worry, I won’t bother you. I wouldn’t want to make the mental image you have of me in your mind even worse, if its even remotely possible for it to somehow get worse. I just can’t let go. Even if you looked at me like trash, avoided me like the plague, or straight up tell me ‘I hate you’ to my face, I still won’t let go. 

And, well, all I can really think of right now besides you, is Ortho. Even if I can’t show my disgraced presence to you anymore, I still hope you’ll see Ortho. At least if Ortho could explain to you that he was acting on my plan, he might get lucky and be next to you again. Maybe. Hard maybe. 

But me? No, I don’t ever deserve to be anywhere near you anymore. For now, I’ll go back to how things were way back... when your vessel hadn’t yet had the misfortune of meeting me and I just watched your every move from monitors like some sort of loser schmuck. 

I think I’ll just imagine how things would be if I hadn’t doomed all my chances. If I had a chance... maybe I would’ve actually worked up the gall to sit next to you, or even look at you, or, hell, talk to you. At least, I’ll always remember when you used your avatar to look at me and it didn’t feel bad... like, almost like you didn’t see me as some lame nobody. That must’ve been my mind just playing tricks on me though, right? There’s no way that happened... 

Enough of this mushy stuff though. I’m sick of it. 

Just throw this in the fire without a second glance. 

Idia Shroud 

In order to get this over as quickly as possible, you decided to continue without taking a breather. The quicker you finished reading them, the better, that way, you wouldn’t even give your mind any time to fully process what you were reading before overwhelming your vision with more lines and lines of words until they became blurred together. 

You wouldn’t stop, because if you stopped, that would be allowing your mind the opportunity to spiral out of control. You needed a distraction. 

This wasn’t exactly the good type of distraction either, it was more like adding gasoline to the fire, but part of you had to know what they would say. No matter what feelings you held, the curiosity outweighed it. 

The second letter is identical to the first, a simple long white envelope with no particularly interesting details about it other than the fact that it had zero stains and no wrinkles on it. It was pristine and clean, not even a drop of ink on it. The insides of the envelope itself were blue, with small white lines on it, but upon closer inspection it became obvious that they weren’t just stripes, they were skull symbols so tiny that it was hardly noticeable. 

Of course, as you expected, the letter inside was not handwritten. It was folded so precisely into thirds, and unfolding it displayed the typed and printed words neatly stacked in indented paragraphs. 

Greetings, Player, 

First, I want to apologize sincerely. 

Secondly, I want to tell you how much I have missed you, and my brother has missed you as well! I don’t believe I can fully comprehend how you are felling at the current moment, and I cannot even accurately guess to what emotions you are experiencing. In my attempt to alleviate the situation, I’ve been running millions of simulations of possible alternative futures in order to take the best route where things might return to a semblance of normalcy. 

Well, a new normal, now that you’re here! However... when each simulation yields a result, I can’t help but feel as if something is wrong. That’s when I realized there was a key component that was off. It was you, or rather, Yuu. We know of Yuu and their mannerisms and opinions, but that isn’t really you. Yuu is a vessel, and extension, that’s partially based off yourself. 

So none of us know the true you. At least, not yet! I’m hoping to change that. Just when I think I’m beginning to understand you, things like this happen. But, that’s what makes you so exciting! There’s always some unforeseen detail and amazing new aspect of yourself to learn about. Once I get a proper grasp on what you’re truly like, I can use that new knowledge to make you happy, just as you made me and my brother always smile!  But also, I want to use it to make it up to you. Honestly, I’m scared that you’ll hate me. In the simulations I ran that gave inaccurate results due to those missing components, nearly all the results had a bad ending... 

I don’t want that. I want to have a ‘normal’ way with you and Idia! A good normal! Like where we might all have movie nights in the Ignihyde dorm with freshly popped popcorn and candies as snacks, or study days when we read over notes and help each other out, maybe you might even be able to convince Idia to leave his room so we can all share lunch in the cafeteria like a group of friends would typically do! That’s what I want! I don’t think I could stand knowing I made you cry or was the cause of your pain. I never hurt you, right? At least not physically. 

Believe me, I had made attempts to meet you. But those in Diasomnia won’t allow it. I was tempted to charge up the technomantic beam installed within my form, but realizing it wasn’t necessary, I didn’t. Idia was right when he didn’t make an effort to even join me, and Malleus Draconia with his own have realized it too. You aren’t ready yet. Even if I’m more than prepared to see you, I can’t rush you. So, I left this letter in their hands, hoping it reached you. If not, there’s no worries. I’ve prepared a dozen more printed copies and if that fails, I’ve created a digital copy! 

Since I couldn’t tell you in person, I’ll tell you through paper... 

I’d like to invite you to formally meet me. I’m even prepared to surprise Idia with this! That’ll cheer him up for sure. You always made him happy, so us properly meeting you would be a dream come true for us both! 

If you’d like to do something upon meeting us, I’ve organized multiple activities for us to participate in. The other first years have reached out and expressed their own desires to make up for the mistakes they made. So, I met with them a few days ago to make plans you might enjoy! These plans are still in the preparation phase, so I can’t reveal them quite yet, but soon I will! 

Anyways, I just wanted to make you aware of this. And I want to say ‘I’m sorry’ even though it feels minuscule to what I’m only guessing must be the strong emotions you feel toward what occurred. But I wanted to let you know that I always want to be your friend, and I always will be, even if you don’t really like me anymore. Friends are supposed to be there for each other, right? So I’ll be there for you now. Remember, I’m a��high-tech being, I can be of great use to you if you want! Even if you’d rather just use me as a tool, I would be happy. If you want someone obliterated to ashes or are just looking to answers as to what the weather might be, I would gladly help you with that and so much more! 

And it’s not only me that could be useful to you, my brother can too! Although he probably won’t say it, he depends on you a lot. You’re like a battery to him, you give him the energy he needs. If you’d let him, let us both, we’d be there for you in a zeptosecond! 

There’s one thing I know for certain. You’re the common variable needed for our happiness, no matter the scenario or result, you are a requirement. And I’m certain we can bring you happiness as well. Myself, my brother, and everyone that treasures you, can bring you joy if you allow it. All I want is to see you happy, and everyone else happy as well. So will you please at least consider seeing us again? Soon? Please? 

Hoping to see you soon. 

From your friend, 

Ortho Shroud  

[whatudowhennooneseesyou]

MTL 18+

Who in atz do you think could be a mean dom? Full on mocking and teasing maybe maybe even some degradation (doesn’t have to include degradation)

In my opinion↓

I think woo, hwa, yeo, joong would be towards the top. gi imo would definitely be last he’s a big softy. Im not so confident about yun, gho, or san but id like to say they’re more towards the bottom.

•More•

Woo (what can I say🤷)

Hwa (he’ll be so sweet while ‘bullying’ you. prepping soft kisses while being so so mean ☹️)

Joong (again what can I say😗)

Yeo (ik ik he’s a sweetheart but hear me out. he thinks of himself as a doberman instead of a maltese is all I’m saying. think he has a lot more bite than he lets on)

Yun (I feel neutral about him idk.)

San (possibly can switch spots with gho)

Gho (possibly can switch spots with san)

Gi (I don’t think he’d enjoy degrading his s/o in any way shape or form. even without degradation I don’t think he’d be mean possibly afraid of hurting them or himself lol. meanest I could picture him being is him teasing you. calling you mean dirty things, mocking you etc nahhh I don’t see it tbh 🤷😗)

•Least•

How would you place them instead ?

This is the next ask to answer and omg what a doozy, what an absolute fkn (horny) doozy.

It's taken me weeks to complete this post because I keep thinking and changing my answers lol.

Disclaimer: This is all speculation and not to be taken for reality.

Who in Ateez Could Be a Mean Dom?

Most!

Jeong Yunho No 1!!!

Of course I'm going to put Yunho as the meanest dom in Ateez because firstly, he's the ONLY member of Ateez that's a 100% 'suit-wearing, lamorghini driving dilfy-ass' DOM!- all the rest of the members are switches.

Whilst he doesn't have the biggest degrading kink, he's still a mean dom in my mind because he'd be the type to love to mock, edge, tease and humiliate yourself in front of him.

His natal chart also indicates he could be a downright sadist and enjoy objectifying whoever his submissive partner, like downright depersonalising you and treating you like property.

Yunho's dominant presence reminds me of James Spader's character from the movie 'Secretary' and in the movie, he has a bdsm relationship with his secretary (duhh) and he's a mean/hard dom.

In the movie, they're roleplaying a scene where he tells the secretary to place her hands on the table and she cannot move her hands until he comes back to her and he's gone for HOURS and he doesn't come back until she's fallen asleep (and peed herself).

Then he comes back and completes the scene and there's a beautiful aftercare segment where it shows him giving her water, he picks her up and carries her to the bathtub where he cleans her and washes her hair. The bathing scene then cuts to him gently placing her on his bed where he proceeds to absolutely worship her and treat her like a princess.

And yeah- that's how I imagine Yunho as a dom.

Also, Secretary is a great film in general that shows how a dominant should take care of their submissive PROPERLY and it also highlights how he enhances the life of the secretary/submissive for the better.

In another scene, there's a moment where they are having a conversation and he encourages her to be more independent and tells her to go take a walk because it's sunny and it'll be good for her mental health.

And Maggie Gyllenhaal is sexy in it and James Spader is SEXY in it!

James Spader is a Capricorn Venus and Mars so he was perfect for the role honestly and I know he's unconventionally attractive for the girlies who get it- you get it.

Park Seonghwa!!

He's the second because he's not a dom, he's a switch with a heavy dominant preference...probably 90% dominant to 10% submissive but as a dom- he'd be a mean one indeed.

His Aries Mars indicates he doesn't have the best stamina and *finishes* quickly so think 10-15 minute rounds but A LOT of them.

He's a mean dom because this Mars sign have the type to be a bit selfish, so for example, you have 4 rounds with Seonghwa and he'll expect you to prioritise his needs in the first two and then he'll satisfy you in the last two.

Would be the type to almost bring you to orgasm and make you wander around frustrated from a ruined orgasm for hours before giving you the euphoria you desire.

Jung Wooyoung!!!

Wooyoung is one of the three true switches of the group and I'm including him under Wooyoung because he would be a mean dom but also a bratty dom and enjoy mocking you in social settings.

He's got a bit of voyeurism kink most likely and so I can imagine him being mean to you by allowing you to go out the girls at the club but he'll leave a huge bite mark on your neck and expect you to leave it uncovered for everyone to see.

Definitely an edger, like I can imagine him running his fingers up your thighs while you're chatting with someone at the dinner table, going so close to where you need it but just never close enough so you're all red-faced and antsy whilst talking to others.

Kim Hongjoong!!!

Hongjoong is smack in the middle because I always mention how he's the most flexible with his kinks and interests.

He's one of the more switchiest members of the group and it doesn't matter if you're a brat or obedient, he'll tailor his personal interests to what you like and enjoy.

In terms of meanness, he is a Sagittarius Mercury so he could enjoy a little bit of degradation but I think he'd be more 'mean' in his love for edging, overstimulation, teasing etc.

He's also more into the psychological aspect of being mean so instead of calling you degrading words, he might be mean by making you crawl on your hands or knees etc.

Choi Jongho!!!

I'm placing Jongho here for the same reason as Hongjoong even though I think he's more dominant than Hongjoong, I don't think he'd be as into degradation as Hongjoong.

I feel he'd more show his mean/hard dom energy by restraining you with his size or with shoving your underwear in your mouth so you struggle with the audacity of teasing Jongho as he edges or overstimulates you.

Choi San!!!

Choi San is one of the true 'switchy' members of the group and could easily adapt to your desires and preferences so whilst I think he could be into being mean- I'm not sure he would pursue that unless you initiate.

He's a Leo Venus and they're extremely words of affirmation oriented and his fancalls consistently highlight his love of praise and being complimented- so I'm just not feeling it with him.

He'd love to spank your arse and manhandle you in multiple positions before degrading you verbally.

Kang Yeosang!!!

It's not that he could be a hard dom I just reckon he'd be bad at it and you couldn't take him seriously if he stuttered.

'are you being a b-bad girl for me?'

Let's be real, most would laugh if his voice broke during dirty talk.

Least

Mingi is least because (imo) he is the subbiest member of Ateez and I legit think he would actually feel bad if he was degrading towards you.

I think he would try if you asked him but I think he'd feel guilty about it or he would overthink about it and worry if you thought he'd actually meant those things?

I feel it would cause more harm to his health emotionally being the giver than if he would the receiver.

Not that I think Mingi would enjoy receiving the degradation but I think he could handle receiving it more knowing you'll praise him afterwards.

taglist: @scuzmunkie @mykryptonitelight @cursedeastern @sugarnspice630 @ja3hwa @youre-alittle-taste-of-hell @marievllr-abg @umbralhelwolf @starsareseen @mischiefsmind @mrcarrots @junieshohoho @gyuhanniescarat @partywithgyu @whatsk-poppinhomies @hologramhoneymoon @staytinyinmybpack @necessiteez @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @laylasbunbunny @anyamaris @krishastumblernow @hexheathen @i-love-ateez @michel-angelhoe @northerngalxy @justaaveragereader @silentreaderthings @daddysspecialdollyworld @abby-grace @wisejudgedragonhairdo @smilefordongil @writhingwrecked @hongthoven @almightyddeonghwa

[kikyoupdates]

Otherworldly Attraction ⭑˚🔮⭑ 𝑎 𝑠𝑢𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑛 𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟

yandere!jjk x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, isekai, jujutsu kaisen x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

You don't know how or why, but you've been isekai'd into the world of Jujutsu Kaisen. Although your first instinct is to stay away from the plot, you've been blessed with an abnormal amount of cursed energy, and for better or worse, you find yourself sucked into the storyline. You decide that you may as well use your newfound powers for the greater good, and if you're lucky, you might succeed in rewriting some of the characters' fates. But it turns out that your presence in this world is an even bigger deal than you first thought, and soon, everyone wants to make you theirs.

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The door slides open to reveal two students, a girl and a boy, sitting around a table while they eat their lunches. Itadori steps inside, still grinning widely, and their heads turn at the sound of his voice.

“Hey, guys! I just dropped by for lunch, if that’s okay. Oh, and I brought a friend! This is [Name],” he happily introduces. 

You’re too stunned by the fact that he just referred to you as his friend to process much else, and by that point, the two students have already stood up. 

“It’s nice to meet you, [Name],” the girl greets with a smile. “I’m Sasaki, a second-year.” 

“And I’m Iguchi, also a second-year,” the boy chimes in. 

Needless to say, you already know who they are, too. Even though it was indirect on their part, they’re largely the reason why Itadori ends up at Jujutsu High, thanks to the fateful events of a certain night spent on school grounds. 

At this point in time, Itadori has yet to give them Sukuna’s finger. You’re not sure exactly when it’ll happen, but there will probably be some warning signs, like Fushiguro showing up on campus to look for it. 

Still, for obvious reasons, you feel like you shouldn’t get too involved with these two. The plot is going to proceed normally, as it should. You’re worried that something might go wrong with your interference. It’s probably best if you keep your distance, and—

“Would you like to join the Occult Research Club?!” 

“...” 

Yeah, you probably should’ve expected that. 

Itadori laughs. “Come on, guys. I didn’t bring her here to try and recruit her. I just wanted to introduce all three of you! I’m not sure if [Name]’s into that kind of stuff, anyways. It’s not really everyone’s thing.” 

“It’s true,” you nod. “I’m, uh, not that great with scary stuff…” 

“There’s nothing scary about the paranormal!” Sasaki insists. “It’s just interesting! Mysterious! Imagine what could be out there! Don’t you have a thirst for the unknown?” 

It’s precisely because I do know what’s out there that I’m scared…

“Sasaki, you’re coming on way too strong,” Iguchi chides. He turns to offer you a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. We just can’t help but get excited when new people show up to our club room, but we know this kind of thing can’t be forced. You two are more than welcome to stay here during lunch.”

To some extent, you can’t help but feel a bit bad, because you know how passionate they are, and soon, Itadori won’t be around to keep them company anymore. He has no choice but to go to Jujutsu High. It’s his fate as the protagonist of this world. 

You know you can’t possibly be a substitute for someone as irreplaceable as Itadori, but once all the craziness with Sukuna’s finger passes, you’d be happy to be their friend, if they’ll have you.

“Ooh, your lunch looks really good, [Name],” Itadori remarks once you sit down and unpack your bento box.

“Thanks,” you smile. “I’ve been cooking for a while. My mom cooks too, but I just got used to making food for myself. The process helps me take my mind off things. It’s kind of therapeutic, in a way.” 

Seeing as being sucked into a fictional world is kind of—or rather, really fucking insane, it’s safe to say that you cooked up a storm when you got home yesterday. You packed up most of the leftovers for lunch today, so the food didn’t go to waste, but still. You ended up emptying a good portion of the fridge.

Itadori takes a big bite out of his onigiri, but he keeps eyeing your lunch all the while, so you chuckle and push the bento box closer to him.

“Go ahead,” you encourage. “You can have some if you want.” 

“Can I really?” he blinks, a few pieces of rice stuck to his cheek. It’s kind of ridiculous how adorable this guy is. You have the sudden urge to pull him into your arms and give him a big squeeze, but mercifully, your intrusive thoughts don’t win. 

“Of course. I packed plenty, so I can afford to share.”

“Oh—wait, but earlier, I was saying that I’d be the one to treat you! I can’t just eat your lunch! I still owe you big-time for what I did to you!” 

Itadori firmly shakes his head in refusal, then crosses his arms and makes an attempt at what you can only assume is meant to be a stern expression. But again, he’s so ridiculously cute that it’s a bit hard to take him seriously. 

Sasaki arches a brow. “What did you do to her?” 

“I, uh, may have hit her in the face with a soccer ball,” Itadori replies, shamefully shrinking in on himself.

He is literally baby. 

“Why would you do that?” Iguchi gapes. “Come to think of it, her nose is a little bruised…” 

“It obviously wasn’t on purpose!” Itadori protests. He turns towards you with an imploring expression. “[Name], I promise it wasn’t on purpose. I swear I would never do something like that!” 

You chuckle softly. “I know you wouldn’t. You definitely don’t seem like that kind of guy.”

Itadori lets out a sigh of relief and resumes munching on his onigiri. Meanwhile, Sasaki stares at you from across the table. 

“So… [Name],” she says. “You’re a first-year like Itadori, I’m assuming?” 

“Yep.” 

“I’ve never really seen you around.” 

“I’m a new student. I only just transferred in.” 

She pauses for a few moments, and you can see her eyes glistening with excitement. “So, that must mean you haven’t joined any clubs yet, right?” 

“Sasaki, not this again,” Iguchi sighs. 

“I’m telling you! Not everyone is drawn to the occult right away. It takes trial and error to figure out if it’s something you’re actually interested in. I’m not saying she has to join our club or anything. But while she’s here, she should at least dip her toes in, right?” 

Before Iguchi can protest on your behalf again, Sasaki grabs a large board from one of the bookshelves and turns towards you with a mischievous grin. 

“...you’ve heard of Kokkuri, right?” 

After school, Itadori stops by your classroom. 

“Hey, [Name],” he beams. “Thanks for hanging out with all of us during lunch. It was a lot of fun. Hopefully that game of Kokkuri didn’t freak you out too much.”

“I had fun too,” you nod. Truthfully, you’ve never really been fazed by this kind of stuff. Horror movies and the like don’t often get much of a reaction out of you. You never bought into ghosts or vengeful spirits. Well, not in the real world at least.

Unfortunately, in this world, there’s plenty of freaky shit to go around. 

“It means a lot to those guys,” Itadori says, a tinge of sadness to his smile. “We’re the only people in the school that seem to have an interest in the occult. I signed up for it because I thought it’d be fun, but we just barely meet the three-member minimum. Thanks for going along with it to make them happy, even if it’s not really your kind of thing.” 

“There’s no need to thank me. I know I said I wasn’t crazy about scary stuff, but I actually ended up having a good time. I’m glad you invited me to hang out with you guys,” you smile. 

Itadori returns your smile with one of his own—seriously, he’s almost always smiling, but you certainly don’t mind—and before you realize it, a phone has been placed into your hand. 

You blink. “What’s this?” 

“My phone,” Itadori replies, still smiling.

“Um, I mean, I know that, but why’d you give it to me?” 

“So you can give me your number. That way it’ll be easier for us to stay in touch!” He pauses, just for a moment, to frown. “Oh, but I guess I should’ve asked if you were okay with it first. I got a little ahead of myself. Would it be cool if we exchanged numbers?” 

Abso-fucking-lutely! 

By some miracle, you manage to reign in your excitement, and instead of hardcore fangirling and squealing out at the top of your lungs, you just nod. 

“Sure thing,” you say, trying to play it cool. Still, despite your best efforts to act indifferent, your fingers are trembling as you pull out your own phone and refer to the number you have saved in a notes app (because you definitely haven’t memorized it within less than a day of being here). Once you’re finished inputting your number, you pass your phone over to Itadori so he can do the same.

And just like that, you have a new contact saved. Itadori Yuji. He even added a little smiley-face at the end of his name. God, he’s so fucking cute. 

“Sweet!” Itadori grins. “Thanks, [Name]. I’ll be sure to text you lots! Sorry I can’t really stick around much longer. I just wanted to stop by real quick before I left to go visit my gramps at the hospital.” 

Right. His grandfather. A point deep in your stomach throbs uncomfortably, and you’re hit by a sudden wave of guilt. It feels awful to know that his grandfather’s end is rapidly approaching. It feels awful to know that you can’t change it, or even warn him. All you can do is feign ignorance and hope that he enjoys these fleeting moments while they last. 

You muster up a smile. “I hope you have a nice day with your grandpa. Feel free to text me whenever.”

“Will do! See ya!” 

Itadori waves you off, every bit as cheerful as always. Yet another thing that causes you immense guilt is the knowledge that his happy days won’t last forever. Soon, he’ll be thrown into a dark, sinister world that teems with death. A world that, in your opinion, is far too harsh for such a gentle soul. 

Unfortunately, there’s nothing you can do about that. Fate will run its course, and you must simply stand by and let it happen. 

Despite the nice day you had, your spirits are admittedly a bit low as you trudge home, having to consult Oogle Maps in order to find your way around. After being injured yesterday, the nurse called your parents to inform them of what had happened, and your mom came by to pick you up. This is technically your first time finding your way home by yourself. It’s not just a new school you need time getting used to, but a new home, a new city, a new world… all of it is bound to get a little overwhelming at times.

You wish you could say you’re completely aware of your surroundings, but that’s far from the truth. Every so often, you have to stop and squint towards the street signs to make sure you’re heading the right way. Jujutsu Kaisen is set in a fictional world, of course, but it’s a world modeled off the real world, and there’s plenty of similarities. This version of Japan is every bit as busy as the real one, for instance. Which is why you keep getting swept up in the crowds and losing your sense of direction.

Still, it’s not rocket science. You can mostly figure out where you’re going. Oogle Maps is idiot-proof, after all. Well, sort of. 

But the fact remains that you’ve never wandered these streets before, and naturally, you’re as disoriented as anyone would be in a foreign place. Hence why you don’t notice him until it’s late. 

A man with long, black hair, who’s staring right at you. 

You get jerked around by the crowd of people hurrying home during rush-hour, enough that you end up tripping onto the sidewalk and falling onto your knees. Your socks only reach up to your calves, so unfortunately, your knees get scraped open and start bleeding. 

Man. Only two days into this isekai thing, and you just can’t seem to stop getting hurt. 

“...are you alright?” 

Some guy is speaking to you. Presumably, one of the bystanders that saw you trip. Your cheeks flush, because falling in public is one of the most embarrassing things that can happen, but you instinctively reach out to grab his hand anyway. 

At the same time, your gaze pans upwards, and his eyes meet yours. 

Oh, balls. 

That’s the most appropriate response you can think of. After all, the man you’ve just had the misfortune of running into is hardly the type to be your friend. He’s not like Itadori. He’s not one of the good guys. 

He is Geto Suguru. Or rather, the curse user that’s pretending to be him. The real Geto is long dead. He was killed by his former best friend, Gojo. 

Those scars on his forehead tell you everything you need to know. The curse user’s name is Kenjaku, and he is merely using Geto’s body as a vessel. As things stand, you’re probably the only person who knows his true identity.

Regardless, the details don’t matter right now.

You’re just really fucking scared. 

Kenjaku pulls you to your feet, and unlike with Itadori, when you wished you could keep holding his hand forever, this time, you pull away viscerally fast, as if you’ve just been splashed with hot oil. 

Naturally, Kenjaku notices. 

“You didn’t answer my question, miss,” he chuckles, a cunning smile spreading across his lips. “I asked if you were alright. You took quite a tumble there. It must have hurt.” 

“I-I’m fine,” you reply, praying your fear isn’t absurdly obvious. You need to stay calm. There’s no reason why an ordinary person would be afraid of him, and if you let it show, he’ll know something’s up. 

“Your knees are bleeding,” Kenjaku points out. He leans closer to you, and you swear your heart nearly explodes. His dark, thin eyes are even more eerie from up close. “And you look like you just saw a ghost. I admit, I’m a bit worried.”

That’s bullshit if you’ve ever heard it, but nevertheless, you can’t allow your expression to crumble. There’s no reason for him to kill you out in public like this. Unlike cursed spirits, people can see him. He won’t risk drawing that kind of attention to himself. 

Probably. 

“I’m just… socially awkward,” you say, chuckling shyly for added effect. “And, uh, I’m not good at talking to handsome guys like you. I get nervous.” 

To be honest, what you just said isn’t even a total lie. Sadly. 

Kenjaku stares at you in silence for a few moments, then smiles yet again, his eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“I’m flattered by your words,” he muses. “Well, just be careful not to trip again. You got off with a small injury this time, but if you’re not careful, it could be a lot worse. And nobody likes to hurt, do they?” 

It’s hard to tell whether or not that was meant to be a thinly-veiled threat, but you have no intention of sticking around to find out. 

“Thank you for your help, mister. I appreciate it.” 

You hastily bow to him, then waste no time before speed-walking away. The further you get, the easier it is to breathe.

But since you’re too scared to look back over your shoulder, you don’t realize that Kenjaku is still staring at you with a contemplative look on his face. 

He hums to himself. “So much cursed energy. Is she a sorcerer? But something about her seems strange. I just can’t put my finger on it.” 

Well, no matter. He’ll leave you in peace for now. He can’t very well attack you in broad daylight, and he doesn’t even know if you pose a threat. There are far too many variables to consider. 

Besides, something tells him that this won’t be your last meeting. 

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[littlemisssquiggles]

Why did no one tell me about the little “omake” chapters of DandaDan?

I was today years old when I learned the existence of these little extra omake or bonus chapters of Dandadan that expand on what’s going on with some of the other DanDandan characters like the Aira and Evil Eye Jiji one for example.

I thought it quite cute that Evil Eye cared enough about Aira to help her with getting her old friends to start talking to her again. That was actually oddly sweet of him.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the Evil Eye might secretly have a widdle crush on Aira. Doesn’t have to be true. I mean it’s just me spitting here.

But I’d be lying if Evil Eye crushing on Aira is definitely feeding into my thoughts on Aira and Jiji eventually being a couple.

I DO LIKE the Jijira ship. I mean Dandadan got me wracking up new ships to love like Uno cards with each new arc.

Already I’m Team Momokarun - obviously. Otherwise why am I even here if not to suffer at the hands of Yukinobu Tatsu as he proceeds to write the most beautiful shoujo romance love story disguised as a shonen battle anime that the world has ever seen and taking his sweet ass time doing it too. That magnificent romantic bastard.

---

I’m Team Jijira - I just think they’re NEAT okay? Our secondary BAKAS IN LOVE potential couple next to Momokarun.

No seriously, I think these two can actually work really, REALLY well together if Aira would just come to her senses of seeing that Okarun is OBVIOUSLY in love with Momo and NOT her, get over him and redirect her interest to the guy who is actually always by her side more than Okarun. Meaning Jiji.

As for Jiji and where he stands on love and romance. To all the people who keep saying that Jiji is in LOVE with Momo, I raise you one important question? Where? Where is this love you keep insinuating that Jiji has for Momo?

Believe me, I have watched the anime. I have read the manga up to date and all I’ve seen so far is a good boy who just simply cares very deeply for his childhood friend and is very protective of her. Nothing more.

I mean Aira is more obvious with her feelings for Okarun than Jiji is for Momo.

I dunno man. The Momiji ship and its shippers is giving me Zutara from Avatar vibes. Ya’ll up in here painting this magnificent love story between these two characters and telling everybody who would listen about it but when you actually read the ACTUAL canon content, there is nothing to insinuate anything like that at all.

Then again, I might just be biased because even IF Jiji DID in fact have a crush on Momo … that means shit because WE KNOW Jiji will NEVER end up with Momo BECAUSE SHE IS IN LOVE WITH OKARUN AND HE LOVES HER TOO!

Not unless Tat-Tat writes an arc where there’s an alternative universe/ reverse time line type shit where Momo ended up with Jiji instead of Okarun due to weebly wobbly, timey wimey stuff.

And now thanks to Aira omake chapter with the Evil Eye, I have more reasons to believe that Jijira could be a possibility. Either way, my Jijira shipping heart has been fed.

---

I’m Team Vaminta: or Kintola? Whatever the official Vamola x Kinta ship is called. Doesn’t matter. Vamola is (literally) a queen and Kinta is her king. Nuff said!

My goat and baby girl deserve each other!

---

And finally; I’m Team Rinuma - yes, yes, I KNOW Rin and Zuma have yet to actually officially interact in the story but how can I NOT ship them prematurely. The girl with gravity powers making people float and the boy with the umbrella? C’mon it’s like poetry. The ship practically writes itself even if Tat-Tat hasn’t gotten there yet. I see the vision and I’m embracing it while I can; dagnabbit!

---

So yeah, those are my current favourite Dandadan ships. Returning to the omakes, I also enjoyed the Chiquitta one.

Did not know Chiquitta was attending school on Earth. I mean it would make sense since his father is currently working on Earth so that Chiquitta can get all the milk he can get to keep himself healthy and strong. Yeah makes perfect sense actually.

Loved the chapter showing Chiquitta protecting his classmates from older bullies. Like father, like son. Chiquitta got hands man! That’s our favourite kappa son!

Also Chiquitta imitating Jiji of all people when interacting with a girl is insanely cute. Of all the people for Lil Chiqui to copy, why Jiji of all people? Then again, better him that Kenta, am I right?

There’s also speculation now that the little girl that suspects Chiquitta to be an alien is actually related to Okarun.

Like she’s his little sister and that Okarun comes from a large family where possibly some of the background characters we’ve probably overlooked throughout the story may allegedly be related to our favourite Yokai speedster.

Personally I’m down for this theory since it’ll actually confirm Okarun as being from Earth instead of my crazy theory of him secretly being a member of a humanoid alien race who was abandoned on Earth at birth and raised by a human family or someting like that. .

Because we have yet to glimpse into what Okarun’s home life is as yet, it’s got me wondering if Okarun even has a family. I mean surely he has to have a home because in spite being a loner/outcast for most of his school life, Okarun is always well-clothed, well fed and stocked up on occult-related magazines.

So outside of the alien heritage theory, it wouldn’t surprise me if Okarun actually comes from a pretty wealthy family and the reason why he’s always seen ready and flexible to go off on his own without his parents wondering about his whereabouts is probably because Okarun’s parents/caretakers are probably living a life where they’re never home with him.

Perhaps Okarun’s parents work overseas and the reason for Okarun’s deep fascination with the occult is cause its related to his parents’ occupation.

Maybe his parents are archaeologists or astrologists or a pair of people who study these kind of things and often have to travel abroad for long periods of time while Okarun is left alone; unable to accompany them due to him attending school in Japan.

I mean, it would make sense why we haven’t seen them as yet in the story. To me, Okarun living alone because his parents work overseas sounds more plausible than them secretly being alien.

Perhaps the little girl who suspects Chiquitta of being an alien doesn’t necessarily have to be someone related to Okarun. Perhaps she’s his neighbour or something. Or maybe she doesn’t even know Okarun and is just someone related to Chiquitta’s side of the story.

On the subject of aliens, it would actually be pretty funny if Okarun’s parents were another pair of refugee aliens who have been living on Earth for years and thus Okarun is secretly an alien who was born and raised on Earth.

Like his parents brought him up on the occult to desensitize him to the existence of the alien race. Their race; although they never revealed the truth of their alien lineage to Okarun, wanting him to grow up believing himself to be just a “normal human boy on Earth” when he actually isn't.

I mean that’s another theory for the pool of possibilities.

If Okarun parents are indeed secretly aliens then imagine them being Ken Takakura fans as much as Momo is because his movies were the first thing they were exposed to once they came to Earth and thus they decided to take the surname of Takakura and named their Earth-born “alien” son, Okarun after him.

It would honestly be insane if there comes a time when Momo gets to meet Okarun’s parents and the first thing they bond over is their shared love for Ken Takakura.

That would actually be insanely cute.

Overall, these are just little headcanons. For all I know, there’s probably no twist to Okarun at all.

He could really just be a regular guy who, despite everything that life had thrown at him, lucked out and found the love of his life and the literal girl of his dreams when she just happened to be passing by on a bad day and noticed him for the first time.

That really could be just it.

Then again; who really knows.

We really have to see what Tat-Tat has cooking up in that noggin of his for this ongoing love story he's made.

The most I will say is that the longer the story drags on with us readers never seeing or knowing anything about Okarun’s homelife, the more this squiggle meister will start to believe that he’s secretly an alien until it’s debunked by the actual story.

~LMS (2025)

[hhoneylemon]

𝘣𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘵. 𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢

jess mariano x reader

genre; fluff

word count; 896

summary; jess annotates a book for reader and then proceeds to rethink every decision he’s ever made.

reader pov

I had stopped by at Luke’s Diner to grab a coffee and have a small chat with Jess in the morning. He described a book he had recently read, saying it had been turned into a movie that disrespected the name.

“It’s so bad. Like, they changed multiple events and even one of the characters names. Don’t forget how everyone interacts with each other… it basically just shares the same name as the book is all.”

It was interesting seeing how frustrated he got about it, and I smiled at him.

“What book is this?”

His eyes widen a tad as he realizes he didn’t even say.

“I Know What You Did Last Summer. Lois Duncan.”

I nod, interested. I’d heard of the movie before, I think, in passing from my best friend. She and her mother watch a lot of things together, this might’ve been one she talked about.

“Did you like the book?”

I take a sip from my coffee, allowing the warmth of the drink to wake me up a bit more.

“Yeah, it was good. I annotated it as I read, if you want to borrow it.”

I smile at the offer, nodding along.

“I’d like that.”

And so here I sit, comfortably on my bed as I read the book. Jess’s annotations were always interesting. He didn’t only look at suspicious details in the story, he also had a soft spot for some of the romantic moments. It made me smile whenever I saw one, that goof.

The book was good, as he had said it was. I knew that Jess had written his full thoughts in the very back, so once I finished, I took everything in to form my opinions. I then open to the back to compare.

I didn’t expect a small folded paper to fall out. A little ‘huh’ escapes from my lips as I unfold it, reading it. I almost laugh at the simplicity of it. A note saying ‘Will you go on a date with me?’ with two boxes, one for yes and one for no. I snort in amusement, before placing it beside me to read his thoughts.

They were agreeable. It was well written and the. characters were developed. Barry was an asshole and Ray came off kinda creepy during some parts of the book.

Once I finish reading his thoughts, I turn my attention back to the note. I pick it up and walk to my desk, grabbing a pen. I checkmark the yes box and slide the note back into the book, knowing I’ll drop it off before dinner.

jess pov

What was I thinking.

Metallica pulses through the air as I stare at the ceiling. I’m lying on the floor as I collect my thoughts. I just asked out Y/n, and in probably the most stupid way possible.

What else can I do, I guess? And it’s too late anyways, they’re bound to have seen it by now.

Perhaps it isn’t the end of the world. If they say no, I’ll lose a close friend, but I’ll survive. Maybe I’ll be regretting who I am for a while, but I’ll survive.

The notes of Nothing Else Matters ring in my ears like a bell. I hum along faintly, occupying myself from my thoughts.

I pick myself up when there’s a knock on my bedroom door.

“Yes?”

Luke pops his head in, looking at me with tired eyes.

“C’mon. Dinner rush about to come in.”

And so I turn off my CD player and trudge down to the diner, ready to serve the rush. I head to the counter like my uncle asks me to and take peoples orders, scribbling in the notepad and dismissing them to a table. I hand the notepad to Luke to take to whoever’s cooking and repeat the process who knows how many times, when my attention is grabbed by a familiar face entering the diner.

Y/n approaches the counter with a friendly smile, brandishing my copy of I Know What You Did Last Summer. They place it on the counter, and I take it into my hands.

“Thoughts?”

I watch them lean against the counter and think for a moment.

“Well, I thought it was good. Barry was terrible to Helen, Ray was kinda freaky, Julie’s mom was a real one, some of the scenes were cool. The gunshot during the fireworks show was clever, I liked that. A crazed brother is a little silly, I wonder what happened to poor Megan. I feel bad for the parents of the little boy. I liked Helen but thought she was a little dim for not realizing what Barry was up to. His mom was annoying. I also like how you annotate books, by the way. Seeing your thought process is really interesting while I’m having my own, y’know?”

Y/n finishes, looking at me. Their look is knowing, so I know they read the note. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I wonder what they’ll say, if anything. The silence that follows what they say is awkward.

And then, “I’ll go out with you.”

They hand me the note, and I see that they checked off the yes box. I look up and see them smiling at me. I give a small smile back.

Maybe it wasn’t a mistake after all.

[yourloveaton]

Hi! I saw all your AU art just recently and noticed you were saying we can ask you about it! (ITS SUCH AWESOME ART BTW I ADORE IT THE WAY YOU DRAW THEM IS AKAKAKKDMSMAMD!!!!)

I don’t have a specific question, but I do want to know more about it.

So can you just tell me anything about it?

Ahhh THANK YOU SO MUCH !!! I’m so happy that you liked my au art and wanna know more about it !! You have no idea how much joy that makes me feel 🥹💖

Well I can tell you some info and facts about the au, how I’m planning to develop it and all that !! It’s still fairly new and I did it out of nowhere at 3 am in the morning because I thought of my old ideas that I had years ago when undertale was on it’s prime but I was too young to bring ideas to life properly HAHAHA I hope my writing doesn’t bore you!

The au is pretty much founded on the idea of what if Sans also used to be a royal guard when he was younger? Boom. That’s where it spiralled and now I don’t know how revert back to who I was before because I ended up doodling a lot of undertale stuff along with the au, it didn’t help with the fact that my very good beloved friend kept encouraging me and feeding my inner demons of my undertale brainrot HAHAHA

I’m planning to develop the au into 2 parts: Before Undertale and after Undertale.

Before undertale is basically the events that happened before the plot of Undertale took place while after undertale is when they’re finally on the surface and the events that will happen on there! Sounds very generic and common I know, that’s why I’m going to try and develop it to be a bit different and hope that the au is not boring or developed horribly :’D It will take some time though since I know developing an au with a unique plot is gonna be very challenging, there are so many ways to mess it up and aghhh I really don’t wanna mess it up TT

Here are the main cast of the before undertale, this is a very OLD sketch that I made to figure out who’s there and how old they would be before I proceed to develop on the characters. So their heights might not be as accurate as it is in the sketch.

Also DISCLAIMER, Alphys and Undyne never met in before Undertale, so just know there’s no weird agenda going on here! They first met during Undertale plot when they’re both adults (Alphys 29, Undyne 23) so it’s all good!! I thought I needed to point that out because the age gap might seem alarming at first glance knowing they’re officially a couple 🙏 The before undertale plot begins at the age displayed on the sketch, and it ends after uhh.. 10 years? Yeah it’s ten years of events before the main undertale story starts!

I do want to portray the skele family with wholesome moments and you know, how great they are! Well that is before the downfall but we ain’t talking about that for now !! They’re just so beloved to me and I know they were such a sweet family AND WOULD HAVE VERY FUNNY MOMENTS IN WHICH I WANNA DRAW IT OUT!! So yeah, stay tuned for silly mini comics of them eheh

At first, I wanted Trickster (yes I’m calling his royal guard nickname, it’s like a whole different persona of his (alter ego???) where he’s energetic and acts very silly, whimsical, presenting puzzles and quizzes to his opponents sometimes but also can be very intimidating and prove that yeah, there’s a reason why he can be like that cuz it’s HIM) to be nothing more than a mischievous silly royal guard that wanted to keep causing trouble for Gaster but then it grew to be a bigger thing where he unintentionally became the symbol of hope and an entertainer for the whole underground before Trickster disappeared without a trace(?)

I’m still working on this whole concept so not everything is settled yet!! Well what I can also say about Trickster is that Alphys might be involved with the whole Trickster business too eheh

I’ve been practicing on drawing the characters so that I can draw better for this little au project of mine, I hope I can share my progress with you guys as things go on !!!

That’s the general stuff I’ve thought of so far, I hope you enjoy reading ! Thank you for reading and do feel free to ask whenever you have questions about the au or anything else :D✨✨✨✨

[gothicxreylover]

Good day! I have another scenario in mind that I'd like to request: the Hashira (+ the Uzui wives), Kanao & Aoi with a foreign y/n. I actually have a couple of foreign reader scenarios so this is probably the 1st one 😄

Okay, so foreign y/n is doing their best to learn Japanese diligently the way we do irl. Since Kanji characters are a big challenge, y/n has to practice writing them numerous times. However, being a fast learner, they quickly proceed to tackle more complex Kanji. And the good way to do start is to write people's names.

In y/n's notebook, there are full names of their friends written repeatedly. Prior to that, y/n went around asking their friends how their names were written in both Kanji and Hiragana, and asked them to show how to correctly write the Kanji characters. So I lowkey think that y/n's s/o might get jealous of seeing other people's names aside from THEIRS written with sm care and precision.

P.S: I feel quite bad for keeping sending you these requests the past few days as I'm concerned that you might have a lot on your plate atm. I'd hate for you to feel the pressure of having to rush to finish our requests asap. But your writing is great and I keep wanting to read more (or I'm just overthinking 🥲)

As always, take your time and have a great day!

The Hashira (+ Uzui’s Wives, Kanao & Aoi) React to Their Foreign S/O Practicing Kanji with Everyone’s Names

I HOPE YOU ENJOY SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT❤️

You had been studying Kanji tirelessly, dedicating yourself to learning the complex characters that made up the names of your friends and loved ones. Your notebook was filled with page after page of carefully written characters, each stroke placed with precision as you committed them to memory. Since names were an important part of learning, you had gone around asking everyone how theirs was written in both Kanji and Hiragana, then had them demonstrate the correct stroke order.

Of course, you thought nothing of it—until your significant other happened to see your notebook… and noticed whose names you had written most frequently.

Giyuu Tomioka

Giyuu had never been the type to hover or pry, so when he happened to pass by as you were practicing, he simply glanced at your notebook.

“You’ve been working hard,” he murmured, his voice as quiet and steady as always.

You smiled up at him. “I think I’m finally getting the hang of stroke order. Kanji is still difficult, though.”

He nodded, watching as your hand moved smoothly across the page. His gaze softened at the way you carefully traced each character, your dedication evident in every mark of ink. However, as his eyes drifted down the page, his expression changed ever so slightly.

Kocho Shinobu.

The name was written over and over, each iteration just as meticulous as the last. He noticed other names, too—Mitsuri Kanroji, Sanemi Shinazugawa, Tengen Uzui—but what stuck out to him the most was the sheer number of times you had written Shinobu’s name compared to the others.

His lips pressed into a thin line. “You’ve written Kocho’s name… quite a lot.”

You glanced at the page, blinking. “Oh, yeah. She was helping me with stroke order, so I practiced with hers first.”

Giyuu was quiet for a moment. He knew there was no real reason to be bothered, but for some reason, the idea that you had spent so much time carefully writing someone else’s name made something stir uncomfortably in his chest.

He wasn’t going to say it outright, but you could tell. The way his gaze lingered, the way his fingers twitched slightly at his side—it was subtle, but you’d learned to read him well.

You smiled, setting down your brush. “You know, I was just about to dedicate a whole page to you.”

Giyuu blinked, his blue eyes widening slightly. “You were?”

“Mhm. Want to help me write it?”

He hesitated for only a moment before sitting beside you. His fingers lightly rested on yours as he guided you through each stroke of Tomioka Giyuu. Though his expression remained neutral, you could see the faintest hint of pink dusting his cheeks.

Later, when you weren’t looking, he carefully tore out one of the pages with his name and tucked it into his uniform.

Kyojuro Rengoku

Kyojuro was absolutely thrilled to see how dedicated you were to learning. The moment he saw you practicing, he beamed with pride.

“Splendid! You are making great progress!” he declared, practically vibrating with enthusiasm as he leaned over your shoulder to inspect your work.

You grinned at his energy, always appreciating the way he encouraged you. “It’s still a little hard, but I think I’m improving.”

“I have no doubt! Your diligence is inspiring!”

However, as his eyes drifted across the page, his usual radiant expression faltered just a little. He wasn’t one to get jealous easily, but when he noticed that Sanemi’s name was written significantly more than his, something inside him stiffened.

“Oh?” His voice remained steady, but the slight pause before he spoke was uncharacteristic. “You have written Shinazugawa’s name many times, I see.”

You glanced at your notebook, completely oblivious to his change in demeanor. “Oh! Yeah, he helped me with some radicals, so I practiced using his name.”

“I see, I see…” Kyojuro nodded, but there was a flicker of something unreadable in his golden eyes. He wasn’t necessarily upset—he knew it was just practice—but still…

He suddenly clapped a hand on your shoulder. “In that case, I believe you should practice with a true challenge! My name, written in the boldest, most flame-like strokes imaginable!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his dramatics, but the way his eyes gleamed told you he was completely serious.

And so, you dedicated an entire page to Rengoku Kyojuro, each character written with the fiery energy he deserved.

Shinobu Kocho

Shinobu had been the one to teach you stroke order in the first place, so she was already aware of your diligent practice. However, what she hadn’t expected was to see Mitsuri’s name written so many times in your notebook.

She had just been passing by when she caught sight of the page filled with careful repetitions of Kanroji Mitsuri. Her ever-present smile didn’t waver, but something in her golden eyes sharpened.

“My, my,” she murmured, her voice light as ever. “It seems you’ve taken quite an interest in Kanroji’s name.”

You looked up at her, blinking in surprise. “Oh, well, Mitsuri’s name was really fun to write. The strokes flow really well.”

Shinobu tilted her head, the same sweet smile still gracing her lips. “Is that so?”

There was something in her tone that made you pause. It wasn’t quite jealousy—no, Shinobu was too composed for that. But there was a teasing edge, a subtle warning hidden beneath her usual playful demeanor.

You set your brush down, smiling at her. “Would you like me to practice yours next?”

Her smile widened, and she hummed in approval. “Oh, only if you want to, of course.”

(You had a strong feeling that if you didn’t, you wouldn’t hear the end of it.)

And so, you spent the next hour writing Kocho Shinobu over and over, while she sat beside you, very pleased with herself.

Sanemi Shinazugawa

Sanemi wasn’t one to pay attention to things like handwriting or study materials, so when he passed by your workspace and saw you scribbling in your notebook, he barely gave it a glance.

At first.

But then something caught his eye, making him pause. His sharp gaze honed in on the page filled with carefully written names—some in delicate, practiced strokes, others a little rougher as you worked to perfect them.

And there, right in the middle of the page, was Himejima Gyomei’s name.

Not just once. Not twice. But over and over again.

Sanemi’s brow twitched. “Oi.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, still focused on your writing.

“The hell is this?” He snatched the notebook off the table before you could react, flipping through the pages with a deepening scowl. “Why is Himejima’s name all over this thing?”

You blinked at him. “Oh! He was helping me with proper stroke balance, so I practiced with his name for a while.”

Sanemi’s frown deepened. His grip on your notebook tightened slightly. “You practiced with his name?” His voice had that low, dangerous edge to it. “What, my name too damn hard for you?”

You let out a laugh, reaching for the notebook, but he yanked it just out of reach. “No, actually, yours is really complicated. I was saving it for later.”

“Tch.” Sanemi still looked irritated, but there was the faintest hint of red on his ears. His thumb ran over the edge of the paper as he stared at your careful penmanship, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.

After a moment, he dropped the notebook back onto the table and crossed his arms. “Write mine.”

You tilted your head, smirking. “Oh? You want me to—”

“Just do it.” He muttered, gaze averted.

With a chuckle, you dipped your brush into the ink and started writing Shinazugawa Sanemi over and over again. The entire time, he stood behind you, watching intently—arms still crossed, lips pressed in a firm line, but his posture just a little less tense.

And later, when he thought you weren’t looking, he ripped out the page and tucked it into his uniform.

Obanai Iguro

Obanai wasn’t the type to get openly jealous, but he was exceptionally observant. And right now, as he stood silently behind you, watching you scribble Kanji with intense concentration, his mismatched eyes caught something that made his muscles stiffen.

You had written Rengoku Kyojuro’s name.

Over and over.

The deliberate care in each stroke, the repeated precision, the sheer amount—it all gnawed at something deep inside him.

He stayed quiet for a long moment, staring at the page. Then, finally, his voice came out cool and controlled.

“You’ve written Rengoku’s name quite a lot.”

You nearly jumped, not realizing he was standing so close. “Oh! Obanai, you scared me.”

He didn’t respond to that. His gaze remained fixed on the notebook.

You followed his line of sight before giving him a sheepish smile. “Ah… yeah. Kyojuro has a fun name to write. He also taught me a good technique for balanced strokes.”

Obanai’s jaw clenched ever so slightly, though his voice remained neutral. “I see.”

You could feel the shift in his demeanor—the subtle tension in his shoulders, the way Kaburamaru coiled a little tighter around his neck.

You sighed, setting your brush down. “Would you like me to practice yours now?”

A pause. Then, a quiet, “Yes.”

You hid your grin as you flipped to a fresh page. “Alright then.”

As you carefully wrote Iguro Obanai over and over, he watched closely, his gaze never leaving your hands. When you were done, he reached out and gently took the page between his fingers, examining it in silence.

Satisfied, he gave a small nod. “Keep this one.”

You chuckled. “Why?”

His gaze flickered to you. “Because your strokes are finally precise enough.”

(But really, you knew he just wanted to keep it for himself.)

Tengen Uzui & His Wives

Tengen prided himself on being flashy, confident, and above all, the most important person in your life. So when he casually glanced at your notebook and saw Tokito Muichiro’s name written more times than his, he audibly gasped.

“You’ve written Muichiro’s name more than mine?!” He clutched his chest dramatically, staggering back as if you had just personally wounded him. “How unbelievably unflashy!”

Before you could even respond, Makio stomped over and snatched the notebook from the table. “Hold on—why isn’t my name here at all?!”

Suma, already in tears, wailed, “Do you love Aoi more than me?!”

Hinatsuru, ever the voice of reason, simply chuckled and patted your shoulder. “You should probably write ours next, dear.”

You sighed in exasperation. “Guys, I haven’t even gotten to your names yet—”

“No excuses!” Tengen interrupted, flipping the notebook open to a blank page. He grabbed a brush and practically shoved it into your hand. “Right now. Write Uzui Tengen in the largest, flashiest script possible.”

Makio huffed. “Mine too. And make it just as big as his.”

Suma sniffled. “And—and mine with little hearts next to it—”

Hinatsuru smiled. “Oh, I wouldn’t mind a few elegant flourishes on mine.”

You groaned in defeat, but secretly, you were amused by how deeply invested they all were. And so, for the next hour, you meticulously wrote each of their names in the most extravagant calligraphy you could manage.

By the end of it, your hand was cramping, your ink supply was nearly depleted, and Tengen was holding up the notebook like a prized work of art.

“Now this is proper dedication!” he declared proudly.

Makio nodded in satisfaction. “Much better.”

Suma threw herself into your arms, sobbing dramatically. “I forgive youuuu!”

Hinatsuru just chuckled, kissing your cheek. “We really do appreciate it, sweetheart.”

You let out a tired laugh. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Tengen grinned, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “And yet, you love us anyway.”

And honestly? He wasn’t wrong.

Mitsuri Kanr oji

Mitsuri was delighted when she first saw you practicing Kanji. She thought it was so cute how dedicated you were, and she showered you with praise the moment she saw your notebook.

“Wow! You’re amazing, Y/N-chan! You’ve written so much!” she gushed, leaning over your shoulder with sparkling eyes.

You beamed at her enthusiasm. “I still have a long way to go, but I think I’m improving!”

She giggled. “Oh, I’m sure you are! Let’s see what you’ve been practicing—”

And then, she saw it.

Right there, in the middle of the page, over and over again, was Iguro Obanai.

Her expression didn’t immediately change, but you noticed the way her cheerful energy faltered just slightly.

“You’ve been practicing Iguro-san’s name a lot,” she murmured, her voice still sweet, but with the slightest hint of something… off.

You blinked, glancing at the page. “Oh! Yeah, he helped me with stroke order, so I used his name for a while.”

Mitsuri’s lips pursed, her usual pout appearing. “I see…”

You turned to look at her fully and immediately recognized the signs. The tiny pout. The slightly puffed cheeks. The way her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve.

Mitsuri Kanroji was pouting.

You chuckled, setting your brush down. “Mitsuri, are you jealous?”

Her eyes widened. “Wha—no! Of course not! I mean—” She fidgeted even more, her cheeks turning pink. “I just thought maybe you would’ve practiced with my name first, that’s all…”

Your heart melted at how adorable she was. You reached out, taking her hand. “Do you want me to write yours now?”

She perked up immediately. “Really?! You’d do that?!”

“Of course.” You flipped to a new page and carefully wrote Kanroji Mitsuri in the neatest script possible. Mitsuri watched with a lovestruck expression, swaying happily beside you.

And later, when she thought you weren’t looking, she carefully tore out the page and tucked it into her sleeve, pressing it to her chest with a dreamy sigh.

Muichiro Tokito

Muichiro was passing by when he caught sight of your notebook, his curiosity piqued when he saw all the careful Kanji written on the page.

“You’re practicing?” he asked, peering over your shoulder.

You nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been working on stroke order.”

Muichiro hummed, scanning the page absentmindedly. His mind tended to drift, but when his eyes landed on a particular name, something inside him snapped into focus.

Kyojuro Rengoku.

It was written multiple times, each character precise and elegant.

Muichiro stared at it, his usual sleepy expression unreadable. “You wrote Rengoku’s name a lot.”

You barely glanced up. “Oh, yeah. He helped me with balance techniques, so I practiced with his name for a while.”

Muichiro said nothing, but his presence suddenly felt much heavier. His usual cloud-like demeanor darkened slightly, and his teal eyes sharpened in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

Then, he plucked the brush from your hand.

“…Write mine,” he said flatly.

You blinked at him. “Huh?”

“My name,” he repeated, his voice eerily calm. “Write it now.”

You gulped. Why did this suddenly feel like an order?

Without questioning further, you quickly flipped to a new page and began writing Tokito Muichiro as neatly as possible.

Muichiro’s intense stare never wavered. He watched each stroke carefully, nodding in silent approval as you filled the page. Once you were finished, he picked up the notebook, flipped back to the page with Rengoku’s name, and—

Tore it out.

You gawked at him. “Muichiro—”

“It’s fine,” he said, slipping the paper into his sleeve as if nothing had happened. “You don’t need this anymore.”

And with that, he wandered off, looking completely unbothered.

Meanwhile, you sat there, gaping at the missing page.

Did… did Muichiro just erase Kyojuro from your practice records???

Kanao Tsuyuri

Kanao had been quietly observing your progress, always fascinated by how determined you were to learn. She admired your dedication, though she never voiced it aloud.

One day, as she passed by, she saw you practicing again and leaned in curiously.

You were so focused that you didn’t notice her at first. But when she suddenly spoke, you nearly jumped.

“You’ve written Aoi’s name a lot,” she murmured.

You looked at the page. Indeed, Aoi’s name was scribbled multiple times.

“Oh, yeah! She helped me a lot, so I used her name for practice,” you explained.

Kanao stared at the page, then at you. There was no immediate shift in her expression, but something about the way she clutched her coin told you she was thinking.

After a few moments, she held out her hand. “Write mine.”

You smiled, flipping to a fresh page. “Of course.”

As you wrote Tsuyuri Kanao over and over, she watched with the slightest glimmer of satisfaction in her violet eyes. And once you were done, she took the page for herself, slipping it into her sleeve without a word.

Aoi Kanzaki

Aoi sighed when she saw your notebook, hands on her hips. “You’re still practicing? Don’t overwork yourself.”

You chuckled. “I’m okay. I want to get better.”

She peered over your shoulder—and then, her eye twitched.

Because right there, in painstakingly neat handwriting, was Shinobu Kocho.

Multiple times.

Aoi immediately narrowed her eyes. “Why is Kocho’s name written so much?”

You blinked, confused by her sudden shift. “Huh? Oh, she helped me a lot, so I practiced with her name.”

Aoi huffed, crossing her arms. “I see…”

Her usual sharp tone masked her emotions well, but you knew better. You smirked. “You’re jealous.”

“Wha—I am not!” She turned away, cheeks turning pink. “It’s just… If you’re practicing, you should’ve used mine first!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, flipping to a fresh page. “Alright, alright. Aoi Kanzaki, coming up.”

As you wrote her name, she muttered something under her breath—but you caught it.

“…Make it better than Kocho’s.”

Gyomei Himejima

Gyomei had been quietly observing your progress for a while, always patient and supportive.

One day, he approached you as you practiced and knelt beside you. “You are doing well, Y/N.”

You smiled. “Thank you, Gyomei-san.”

Then, he felt your notebook, his large hands tracing over the pages. “May I?”

You handed it to him, and he carefully flipped through the pages, his blind eyes scanning the indentations of ink.

After a moment, he sighed deeply. “…You have written many names.”

You tilted your head. “Yes?”

His lips pressed together. “But mine is not here.”

Your eyes widened. Oh no.

He exhaled, his massive shoulders sagging slightly. “Am I… not important to you?”

Panicked, you immediately grabbed your brush and filled an entire page with Himejima Gyomei, each stroke filled with pure dedication.

Gyomei felt the fresh ink and nodded solemnly.

“…I will keep this safe,” he murmured, tucking it inside his robes.

(You were pretty sure he was smiling.)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Roads Untraveled 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, pregnancy, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Single and pregnant, you discover a super soldier in the dumpster but he might not be hero you think he is. 

[This is a rewrite of a series of the same name which I removed a couple years ago]

Characters: Silverfox!Steve Rogers

Note: I finally did this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

‘When he went away  The blues walked in and met me  Oh, yeah if he stays away  Old rocking chair’s gonna get me  All I do is pray...’ 

You sway to the melody as you wipe dry the last plate. You set it in the rack as Etta James’ soulful crooning wafts around the kitchen. Just the simple task of washing the dishes has you out of breath. You can no longer hum along as you’re suddenly light headed with sweat speckled across your brow. Even the breeze drifting in through the open window can’t cool the constant heat brewing within you. 

You brace your lower back as you reach for the dish towel and pop open the cupboard. The music drones to silence as the next some in queue loads. Your rounded stomach presses to the counter as you take a mug and dry it inside and out. Strange, you don’t remember the song starting like that; the strange warbling noise much unlike Marvin Gaye’s rich tones. 

You set the mug on the shelf and back up. Another noise peaks your attention, too tinny to be a snare. You rub your stomach mindlessly as you sling the cloth over your shoulder. You waddle across the tile to the folding table beneath the window. You tap pause on your phone and the bluetooth speaker goes silent. 

Your fingers pick the damp fabric away from your bump. These days you can’t avoid getting soaked. Even as you can’t forget about the burden of your condition, you’re still oblivious to how it gets in the way until it does. You sigh as you listen for another clue. 

A pained deep grunt floats up from below. Distant but decisive, another rustle beneath the unexpected noise. You lean over the table, a hand on the ledge as you push the pane higher. You bend, stomach pressed to the speaker, and peer down. You expect another dumpster diver searching for empties to trade in; rather you meet a most unexpected sight. 

There is a man in the dumpster, alright, but he isn’t moving. From there, you can’t see very clearly. You squint at the figure strewn among the trash but the zigzag of the fire escape obscures your eye line. 

You shouldn’t go and see. Not only is it a lot of effort, but it’s dangerous. You shouldn’t be wandering into alleys to check on strangers in dumpsters. You don’t know any good reason someone might be swimming in garbage. Nor do you think they would want to be bothered.  

Still, the prickling in your neck urges you to do something. There’s just something so peculiar about the angle of the arm you can see clearer than the rest of the body. At least they’re moving, even if they sound agonized. 

You take your phone and untether it from the bluetooth speaker. You unlock it and keep your thumb ready to dial out. You move as quickly as you can, not very, and waddles along the back of the couch into the entry way. You take your keys from the hook near your door and step into your cushy slides. 

You turn back the latch and leave the door unlocked behind you. The slides shift on your swollen feet as you rush down to the elevator. God, your back hurts. You try not to lean too far back as it only adds to the pain. You need a belly belt but they’re so darn expensive. 

You’re out of breath as you step on and turn to watch the numbers count down. You’re still panting as you reach the lobby and push through the front doors, leaning into the heavy grated iron until it creaks loudly. You clamour down the steps to even ground and your hips pang. 

You put your hand under your stomach, trying to lift it and ease the pressure in your hips. You blow out between your lips as you have to slow down. You shuffle across the grass and into the paved lobby. The stink of the trash brings you back to those early days of morning sickness. And afternoon sickness. And night sickness. 

You try not to inhale too deeply as you step between the brick buildings. You bring your phone up, ready to hit those three digits in a heartbeat. You should’ve done so already. Even if you do, it’ll take hours for anyone to come out here. 

You stop and listen a few steps from the dumpster. You don’t hear anything now. You look up at the sky, dimming towards evening in a mixture of pink and blue, the moon peeking palely through the hue. You grip your phone tight, keys jangling with your movement as you continue forward. 

“Hello?” You call out, “is someone in there?” You linger near the corner of the dumpster, the trash reeking in your nostrils, “do you need help?” 

No answer. You stare up, wondering how you might see inside. If you weren’t built like a keg, you might be able to see from the lower level of the fire escape but you can’t even make it one rung. You blink and call out again. 

“Hello? Are you okay?” 

You wait for a response. Silence again. Maybe they found their way out on their own. You huff. So much for all that. All you’ve done is added to the pain in your arches. You turn on your heel and a groan gurgles and plastic crinkles noisily. 

You stop again, wavering, and peer back over your shoulder. A hand appears over the tops of the dumpsters edge and grips it. You face the large metal bin as the knuckles strain within the stained brown leather, fingertips poking out nakedly, blood and dirty tinged across the flesh. A long grunt follows as the figure drags himself to look over the top. 

“Sir, are you--” you begin, voice catching at the sight of the cowl and the man’s square jaw. The white star on his chest stuns you. It’s him. Everyone knows that uniform, that face, even under his helmet. New York’s own Captain America. 

You gape as the super soldier strains and swings himself out of the dumpster with one arm. His other is hanging limply as his feet hit the pavement. His knees crack and buckle. He drops down onto them and hisses. 

“Captain America?” You utter dumbly. 

He puts his fist to the ground and leans on his arm. He hangs his head and heaves. He drags a leg forward, planting his foot, and makes himself stand. He pushes his shoulders back and winces, reaching to cradle his dangling arm. 

“Steve,” he rasps, “goddamn.” 

You don’t expect the obscenity. Not from him. He leans against the dumpster and turns his chin up. He gnashes his teeth as he grips his arm and jerks, moving the heavy bin with his effort. The pop of his shoulder is sickening as he growls tightly. He stomps his foot and as he shakes out the arm he just put back into place. 

He reaches up and peels off his cowl as he puts his head straight. He looks at you as he wipes the streak of blood from lip to chin. His blond locks are streaked silver and his face is lined. He looks much older than the magazine covers and the TV screens. The magic of editing, right? 

He swipes the sweaty hair from his forehead and huffs. 

“Steve,” you rest your phone on your stomach, “are you okay?” 

He pushes himself away from the dumpster and puffs, “I’m fine. Just... a hiccup.” 

You stare at him. He looks tired and worn. You believe him when he says he’s okay. He's a super soldier and the world has seen his many feats. Yet he looks completely hollow. 

“Are you sure? I could call someone or...” you step forward and point to the slash that borders chest and shoulder, “you should clean that out, shouldn’t you?” 

He looks down and grimaces, “had worse. I got comms. HQ doesn’t care about a few scratches.” 

He goes to step forward and stumbles slightly. He snarls and kicks his foot into the gravel. He wiggles his knee and bends to rub the joint. 

“I...” your mouth opens and closes. This isn’t the man you’ve seen in the media. He's not smiling and golden and shining. Still, he’s the Captain. “I live above,” you gesture upward, “I could help... or maybe you can just... sit for a little bit. Get yourself straight?” 

He looks at you. As if for the first time. His forehead smooths as the tension eases from his jaw. His gaze slowly crawls down to his stomach and you see the dimple in his cheek. 

“Your husband okay with that? I’m a bit of a mess,” his tone is lighter as he fixes his grip on his cowl. 

“Oh no, I don’t have--” you chew your lip and look at the brick wall, “it’s just me. But I have first aid kit and learned to stitch in summer camp. I think I can still remember how.” 

He glances around and nods, “got a back door?” 

“Yeah, it’s... past you,” you nod in his direction. 

He pivots stiffly and cranes to see around the dumpster. You near him and your keys jingle again. You follow him to the metal door with the glass window and you shove the key in and twist. You pull it open a few inches. It’s heavier than the front door. He grabs it and wrenches it all the way back. 

“Thanks,” you murmur. “There’s an elevator.” 

“Hm, fewer people see me, the better,” he sniffs as the door clanks behind him. 

“It might take me a while,” you warn, “I’m slow.” 

“What floor. I’ll meet you,” he offers. 

“Sure, it’s three.” 

“Number?” 

“310.” 

“I’ll find it,” he states and marches towards the stair sign. 

You go to catch the elevator, stewing in disbelief on your ascent. You step off and continue on to your apartment. He’s already there. He stands with his hand on the frame, looking over his shoulder as you waddle down the hall towards him. 

“It’s unlocked,” you say. 

He opens it and waits for you. You thank him as you enter and he follows. He locks it and lingers behind you. You put your hand to the wall as you slip off your slides. He gently lays his cowl on the corner table and bends to unlace his boots. You hang the keys on the hook and place your phone on the small table. 

He leaves his dirtied boots on the mat and limps forward. You stand in the open doorway of the living room and peek back at him. He looks around reluctantly. 

“Please, sit down,” you insist and wave through the doorway before you pass through. 

“I...” he begins and you hear his uneven gait down the hallway. “I don’t want to dirty your couch.” 

“I have a steam cleaner,” you assure. “Sit, I’ll get the kit.” 

He stares, his eyes once more scanning the space. Does he think this is a trip? That you’re some covert agent who all too conveniently found him? That’s absurd. Look at you. 

You shrug off that ridiculous idea and cross to the kitchen. You open several drawers before you remember it’s in the bathroom. Of course. Your brain likes to play games these days. You grab the metal tin from under the sink and return to Steve.  

He pulls off his gloves and balls them on the side table next to the couch. You come around the other side of the couch and sit, leaving lots of space between you. You squeeze the kits as you’re once more out of breath. 

“You okay?” He turns the question on you. 

“I’m not the one bleeding. Just pregnant,” you smile. 

You balance the kit on your stomach as you lean back. You sanitize a needle and weave it with surgical thread. You put that aside and fish out an alcoholic swap. You shift the kit aside and push on the back of the couch as you try to sit forward. You shake and he helps you, a humbling assistance. 

“First,” you turn to him, “we’ll see how deep it is,” you tear open the swap, “can I...” 

“One sec,” he dips his fingers into the fabric and tears the sleeve, renting the fabric like tissue. His arm is thick and well-toned despite the years. A centurion like him can’t complain for the shape he’s in, even battered. “I can do it myself.” 

“Yes, but it wouldn’t be easy.” 

You reach as he angles towards you. You gingerly dab around the gash and he tenses. He takes a sharp breath, “you don’t have to be so gentle. I can handle pain.” 

“Right,” you work more diligently. 

He’s quiet as you tend to him, picking out gravel and some metal slivers. You worry that you might miss some. You lean in closer and he steels himself at your proximity. 

“So,” he clears his throat, “just you and...” the kid?” 

“We all make mistakes,” you chuckle. You can only laugh about it, as scared as you are. 

“Mmm,” he flinches as you sweep down the length of the cut. It’s not that deep, mostly superficial. 

“Let me put some steri-strips on, shouldn’t need the stitches, ” you say as you sift through the kit with one hand, “if you’re hungry, I have leftovers. You like chicken?” 

You don’t know why you’re offering. Maybe it’s because you owe him. Like everyone in the city. It’s your chance to give back to the hero who gave so much. Or maybe it’s because you’re so damn lonely talking to your own stomach. 

“I should go,” he insists as you place a strip across the cut. 

“Up to you,” you say, “I don’t mind either way, but I’m not going to chase Captain America out of ym apartment.” 

He doesn’t say anything. You finish dressing his wound and gather up the wrappers and all. You crumple it in one hand and rock yourself to stand. You’re overly aware of him watching you. You touch your stomach and rub it, soothing your nerves. You find him watching the movement of your hand. 

“You must be pretty far along,” he says. 

“Six months. Chicken tortellini, if you want. I was gonna reheat some. I haven’t eaten since work.” 

“Work?” He frowns and stands, moving better than before. “Should you be?” 

“I’m at a desk. It’s nothing. HR got me some ergonomic stuff. Nothing compared to what you do.” 

You put away the kit and toss the garbage. You wash your hands before you search out the container of pasta in the fridges. You sense him behind you, just in the wide archway that peers into the kitchen. You reach into the cupboard you left open and take the single plate that isn’t in the rack. 

“So, you want some?” You ask. 

He’s silent with contemplation, the shift of his weight creaks in the floor, “I appreciate it, yes, please.” 

“I might have something you can change into,” you say. You wonder why you’re doing all this. Maybe it’s that maternal instinct kicking in. “The father, before he took off, left a few things.” You peek over your shoulder, “he was a bit smaller than you.” 

He shrugs then winces at the careless gesture. “Do you mind if I wash up before I eat? I smell like garbage. I don’t wanna overstep--” 

“Go ahead, it’ll take a while to warm this up,” you say. 

Another long lull. He taps his fingers on the wall and inhales deep enough for you to hear, “promise, I’ll get out of your hair after dinner.” 

“Please, take your time,” you say as you put the tortellini in a glass pan to rebake. He backs away and you sense his hesitation, “oh, down the hall, to the left of the bedroom at the end.” 

“Thanks,” he intones, “oh, uh, just realised, you know who I am...” 

Your brows pop up and you stop before you can put the pan in the stove. You look back at him and give your name. He nods. 

“Pretty,” he comments, “also, it’s just Steve, not Captain.” 

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 424: Detroit Tears

Previously on BnHA: You know what, fandom is way too heated about this still so we’re just going to leave that be that for now and not get involved. I have some conflicted feelings about it, but this is not the place or time. This is a happy post.

Today on BnHA: Oh right, Horikoshi still owns the rights to my soul. And I’ve just been reminded of why I willingly signed them over to him so freely.

Quick heads up that this isn’t going to be my usual style of chapter reaction post, in that it’s really just going to be a ton of rambling about That One Scene. Partly because I’m only halfway caught up with stuff, but mostly because tbh, this is the only thing that matters to me right at this moment.

Also this is your friendly neighborhood spoiler warning that I’m posting about a chapter which hasn’t officially been released yet! So proceed at your own discretion. This reaction is based on @pikahlua’s excellent spoiler translation writeup here. I’ve officially lost all of my fucks about spoilers and it’s extremely liberating.

I’m glad that Kacchan’s arm isn’t just magically better and that he’s never going to be 100% again. and also that the doctor mentions him needing to rest his heart as well. because I did feel like there needed to be at least a few lasting consequences from him LITERALLY DYING AND UNDERGOING OPEN-HEART SURGERY IN THE MIDDLE OF THE BATTLEFIELD. but I’m also glad they established that it wasn’t career-ending or anything. he’ll probably have some chronic pain and occasionally aggravate his old injuries while fighting, all of which is great for angst purposes. but it was good to see him being calmly accepting of that while also being determined to put the work in to rehab it as much as possible.

also enjoyed the doctor summing up Kacchan’s highly improbable main character resurrection and subsequent antics as basically being some wild bullshit that nobody can explain. lampshaded the shit out of it. “I don’t really understand” lol. nobody understands. in truth it’s that his secondary quirk is bending reality to his will in order to kick ass.

moving on to the main event now! so Kacchan and Izuku’s reunion was obviously the highlight of this chapter and of my life, probably. I’m not gonna sit here and pretend like it wasn’t. y’all know how it is.

what really made this scene for me was Kacchan being more upset at Izuku’s loss than Izuku himself. all those callbacks and all that guilt. that careful selection of flashback panels. the fact that Kacchan’s past bullying of the quirkless Izuku wasn’t glossed over or forgotten, and in fact is the emotional core that fuels Kacchan’s reaction here. Horikoshi didn't have to cut that deep, but he knows what he's about.

and then the crying. I need to write a lot of words about this right the fuck now. first off, having Kacchan just flat out sob while Izuku for once is the calm one (at least until All Might goes in for the emotional kill later on), is such a beautiful reversal and really shows how far they’ve come. even better is that none of it was even remotely out of character. I’m always appreciative when an author can produce top tier emotional hurt/comfort like this and have it feel earned and authentic rather than forced. well done.

also, “Na--cchan!!” fuck yeah Izuku. we’ll never let him live this down. (but also, him later trying to reconcile his forever-tough image of Kacchan with the crying, hiccupping version standing in front of him, by blaming it on Kacchan’s weakened physical state... oh, Izuku.)

also the fact that Kacchan so easily reverts to this smol crying boy even after defeating the world’s greatest evil pretty much activated every protective instinct that I have. he’s seventeen. he’s practically a man now. he’s objectively one of the strongest and toughest people in the entire world. and yet his eyes still go so wide and his face is still so young and Horikoshi still draws him so tiny and vulnerable whenever he’s like this. goddamn gets me EVERY single time. let’s be real, it’s been this way ever since the “you looked like you needed saving” scene back in the literal first chapter. just, omg. he’s still just a kid and he’s too small to contain all these feelings SOMEONE HELP HIM.

anyway so NEEDLESS TO SAY, Kacchan full on mourning in between sobs because he wanted to keep being rivals with Izuku cut me to my core. I cried too, goddammit. because in Katsuki’s mind it’s like. he wasted a dozen years of potential friendship by being a giant asshole. and they were only able to start getting things back on track less than a year ago. and that was probably the best year of both of their lives. and that rivalry meant so much to both of them. pursuing their dreams together as equals. and he wanted it to continue!! he missed out on so much, and it was his own damn fault, and now it’s all being taken away again maybe!!

and I think it’s especially devastating to Katsuki because he was trying so hard to make up for how he treated Izuku, and then this comes along and now he’s worried it was all for nothing. he’s scared that Izuku will maybe have to quit being a hero. (we know that won’t happen, obviously, but Katsuki is living this and not just reading it. he’s never met narrator!Deku and doesn’t have the benefit of all that foreshadowing and stuff.) but even more than that, I think he’s scared that it will undo all of their progress toward mending their relationship. not because Katsuki thinks any less of Izuku now, quirk or no quirk; but because of how Izuku might feel about being quirkless again, and because of the memories it might bring flooding back to the surface. I don’t think Katsuki fully believes that Izuku has forgiven him. so that’s a major fear potentially rearing its ugly head once more now.

and of course, he’s also just sad and upset on Izuku’s behalf, because he knows Izuku is sad about it too, even if he’ll never show it and will just downplay it because of his selfless nature. it’s a major loss, and one deserving of tears being shed, even if Izuku won’t shed any of his.

so yeah. it’s a lot. in Katsuki’s mind it’s the potential loss of a partner (if Izuku quits heroics), and a friend (if Izuku does cool toward Katsuki as a result of being quirkless again), and a dream (of them reaching the highest heights together), and his friend’s dream. so it makes perfect sense that all of that would overwhelm him. all of this is stuff that’s broken him down on past occasions as well.

so anyway it’s going be very cathartic when all those fears prove to be unfounded (because they better be unfounded lol). but in the meantime it’s a very moving reminder of how much he really does care and how far the both of them have come.

also Horikoshi really couldn’t resist giving Nobu one last chance to destroy everyone when this scene rolls up in the anime. that’s so reckless of him. there will be no survivors.

All Might telling both of them they’d become the greatest heroes was also the perfect chef’s kiss moment on top of everything else. we already knew it, of course. but it was good to hear him say it. and they needed him to say it. they needed and deserved to hear it.

and I really love that the qualities he specifically praised them for were the same things that each of them had struggled with the most in their respective journeys. he tells Izuku, who had such a difficult time learning how to tell the world “I am here!!”, that he inspires everyone and has become everyone’s hero. and he reminds Katsuki, who struggled with learning how to save people, and has especially struggled with his guilt over what happened to All Might at Kamino, that he saved All Might’s life and is the reason he’s able to still be there with them. both of them just really needed to hear that acknowledgement and encouragement, and it was such a powerful passing of the torch moment. All Might gets so much shit from the fandom, but he really is a phenomenal mentor when he’s in the zone, and I’ll die on that hill.

also a nice touch keeping the focus of those panels on the two boys and their reactions. even though I would have liked to see All Might’s face when he thanked them at the end, it definitely felt deliberate. this is their moment. their soft little tearful smiles afterwards punted my heart off a cliff and then picked it up and held it gently.

lastly, let it be known that I’m still convinced Katsuki has OFA (All Might vestige explanation when??), and it’s not lost on me that that would be a mighty convenient way for Izuku to potentially still go on a-quirkin’ in the end, if that’s how Horikoshi wants to play it. I'm just saying.

also before I forget, just a quick shoutout to Horikoshi for FINALLY showing all three members of the Bakufam in a scene together in which they finally managed to not be completely dysfunctional lol. my deepest darkest BnHA secret is that Mitsuki is secretly super high up on my list of favorite characters. and she was great in this chapter, and I love how she was just “WHAT THE FUCK” aghast at Katsuki using his main character powers to continuously ignore his injuries. and then she and Masaru kind of silently agreeing to step outside the room and let the boys and All Might have their moment. while still secretly listening in. because you know they were. good for them.

lastly for reals, I just want you all to remember that as great as this chapter was, the one thing that it was STILL missing which we have STILL not gotten is a HUG. we demand HUGS. I’m not leaving this manga till I get a bkdk hug goddammit. I will stay here all night if I have to.

[eeboor]

jayvik ficrecs 🤺🤺🤺

it’s long so. continues utc (also i tried to mention which ones had smut but i definitely forgot to mention some so idk proceed w caution)

The Pulse of The Machine by BringTheKaos (92k)

SOOOOOO INCREDIBLY GOOD!!! sorta a mixture of league and arcane lore which i LOVE, explicit sexual content and some (imo) mild body horror bc well, viktor, and the typical lovers to enemies to lovers arc that league jayvik generally embarks on

look out bellow by weatheredlaw (11k)

SO GOOD. very sad at the end lowk 😟😟 but love it. again a mixture of league and arcane lore, just how i like it smirk emoji. one sex scene (bottom jayce supremacy tbh)

A shared detestation by oooohscar (2k)

the type of fic you wish was longer and never stop thinking about. league lore compliant, essentially meant to be viktor and jayce’s meet-cute at one of those piltie parties they both despise

Your Needs, My Needs by inoxske (23k)

post canon for arcane lore. Wow i’m still reeling actually. real tears were shed after i finished this but it hurt so good. basically jayvik learns to heal after season 2, posing as fake husbands until they become hmmm maybe not so fake husbands. one sex scene but vague af

Bookstreet by Elf_Writes (10k)

SO CUTE AND FUN. pure fluff and some second hand embarrassment because jayce + vi = flop duo. basically jayce takes vi’s advice on how to woo viktor and things get worse from there. i’m obsessed

If This Is How It Feels to Be Broken by marttyyriroskis (21k)

a much lighter take on the usual hatred between machine herald viktor and defender of tomorrow jayce!! again, a mixture of league and arcane canons (my favorite shii fr 😍😍). basically, jayce is at rock bottom and viktor meets him there despite the grievances of the past. love the characterization, one sex scene but very brief and vague

love, letting go by theroyalsavage (13k)

once again the mixture of league and arcane canon, SOOOOO GOOD. hurts so good fr. miscommunication trope but in a way that doesn’t make you want to kill all the characters. love the take on the hexcore. fic essentially operates under the assumption that season 2 of arcane did not occur 💯. also jayce thinking viktor replaced his face and not knowing the mask is a MASK will always be my FAV. “i never thought i’d see your eyes again” yeah so that’s the gayest thing i’ve ever fucking read

to swim through the fires — to stay in this world by theroyalsavage (20k)

just got finished reading this. wow i hope i die! so good. very little angst, lovely plot. AU where viktor never leaves the undercity and raises ekko and powder after that Awful Night ™️. i love you jayce talis i want to kiss your lovely forehead. what a baddie. anyway uhhh read it or i’ll kill you

all this longing - ships left to rush by theroyalsavage (22k)

i love you jayvik divorce era maybe you could save me. Ok basically pirate au yet still vaguely canon compliant with arcane season 1. jayce gets captured by pirates oh no and who’s that mysterious guy who vouches for him?? surely not his long lost ex (they never dated)…. oh em gee how will it end

growing sideways by inkingbrushes (27k)

wow okay so this one is beautiful. modern au where jayvik are roommates, best friends, and a secret third thing (lovers in denial). the getting together takes a little while but is so so worth it. viktor pov, and you can tell the person who wrote jayce is a little in love with him too

Evergreen Out The Window by inkingbrushes (51k)

wow same author so crazy. Mage au? i guess?? idk just read it, it’s amazing and so beautiful and heart wrenching and UGH i love a good immortality magic fic. READ ITTTT!!!! also i love the rio representation here.

The Firelight Tree by Tempeste (58k)

amazing showstopping incredible. post canon arcane fic, i love the healing that happens between jayvik and ekko’s inclusion is just top tier. also the lust jayvik shares is just 😳. two sex scenes i believe, serving my vers jayvik agenda fr.

butterflies and hurricanes by ironcy (39k)

wow ok i might take my life! if you like jayce centric and jayce whump then THIS is the jayvik fic for you. wow ok the pain is endless i’m sorry i just got done reading this as i’m writing this. absolutely brutal, but incredibly well done and a satisfying ending. rip my girl ximena tho

Red Chrysanthemums by Finnicus_Gayicus (124k)

so good. SO GOOD. really gives satisfaction in a way i can’t describe—you get mad as fuck at the fic for a few chapters and then satisfied again, and again and again until the beautiful perfect ending. basically jayce is thrust into an alternate reality which takes place in the modern day instead of the hellscape he was sent to in arcane. 2-3 sex scenes. VERY well written and so incredibly beautiful honestly the bottle flew into my hand

you’re so handsome when i’m all over your mouth by HypnosTheory (39k)

ok ummm porn every chapter lmfao. REALLY well written, pretty intense bc it’s also a vampire/werewolf au. some abo elements too bc viktor is like my mate my mate for a while there. i pray every day that the author will finish the series bc i can’t live with that ending. also a murder scene occurs 🙏

ok that’s all for now but i will probably post another one of these at some point because i’m mentally ill

[naomijoestar]

Hi, can I request gn!reader confessing to each member of the Bucci gang(plus Trish!!) that they are in love with them? There's no tact or romance, maybe it's over breakfast or some random mundane situation and reader goes "You know, I am actually in love with you", proceeds to keep doing what they were doing and refuses to elaborate unless cornered 😭 ty!! The genre can be crack taken seriously/romantic comedy??

Masterlist here <3

Hello I love this I love you this is such an amazing idea. I hope you enjoy! 💕

Bucci gang react to you suddenly confessing

Part 2 here (reader takes confession seriously)

Bruno Bucciarati

It’s mid-breakfast, and Bruno is calmly buttering his toast when you casually drop, “By the way, I’m in love with you.” You return to sipping your coffee, not even looking up. He freezes for a moment, toast hovering in midair, before setting the knife down neatly

“I see,” he says, his voice steady but his cheeks slightly pink. “Would you care to elaborate?”

You wave him off. “Nah, just thought you should know.”

The rest of breakfast is quiet until he leans forward, a warm, playful smile on his face. “I think we’ll need to revisit this conversation later. You can’t just say something like that and not let me respond properly.”

Narancia Ghirga

You’re both playing video games, and Narancia’s in the middle of yelling at the screen when you suddenly say, “I’m in love with you, by the way.”

His character immediately dies, and he turns to you, wide-eyed. “WHAT?!”

“Yeah,” you say, nonchalant, munching on some chips. “Pass me the controller?”

He scrambles to pause the game, absolutely not ready to let this slide. “Hold on! What do you mean you’re in love with me?! Like, for real?!”

“Yup,” you reply, popping the ‘p.’ You refuse to elaborate further, leaving him flustered and pacing around the room, muttering about how he “needs a minute to process.”

Guido Mista

You’re cleaning up the kitchen after lunch when you casually drop, “Mista, I’m in love with you.”

Mista, who is polishing one of his pistols, blinks at you. “What?”

You shrug. “Just thought you should know.”

He stares at you for a solid ten seconds before grinning. “Man, you’re something else, you know that? You’re not even gonna explain?”

“Nope.”

He leans back in his chair, shaking his head with a laugh. “Alright, but don’t blame me when I start flirting with you nonstop now.”

Fugo Pannacotta

The two of you are studying some documents when you casually say, “By the way, Fugo, I’m in love with you.”

Fugo doesn’t look up immediately, but his pen stops moving. “…Excuse me?”

You shrug, flipping a page. “You heard me.”

He sets the pen down, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can’t just say something like that and act like it’s nothing.”

“Why not?” you ask, genuinely curious

He sighs, visibly flustered but trying to keep his composure. “Because it’s not nothing,” he mutters under his breath, cheeks bright red

Giorno Giovanna

You’re watering plants with Giorno when you say, “Hey, Giorno, I’m in love with you.”

He pauses, looking up from the flower he’s tending. “Is that so?”

“Yup,” you say, moving on to the next pot

He tilts his head, a small smile gracing his lips. “And you’re just going to leave it at that?”

“Pretty much,” you reply

He chuckles softly, standing and brushing dirt off his hands. “Then I suppose I’ll have to find a way to make you elaborate, won’t I?” There’s a glint of determination in his eyes, and you know he’s not letting this go

Leone Abbacchio

You’re sitting on the couch, flipping through a magazine, when you say, “Hey, Abbacchio, I’m in love with you.”

He doesn’t even look up from his cup of wine. “Sure, and I’m the Queen of England.”

“I’m serious,” you reply, still focused on your magazine

He finally glances at you, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve got a funny way of confessing.”

“Thanks,” you say, turning a page

He sighs, setting his glass down. “You really don’t care to explain yourself, do you?”

“Nope.”

He mutters something under his breath, but you catch the faintest hint of a smile on his lips

Trish Una

You’re trying on sunglasses in front of a mirror when you casually say, “Hey, Trish, I’m in love with you.”

She stops mid-text, lowering her phone. “Excuse me?”

“I’m in love with you,” you repeat, adjusting the frames on your nose

Trish blinks, clearly caught off guard, before regaining her composure. “And you just… drop that like it’s no big deal?”

“Pretty much,” you say, inspecting another pair

She narrows her eyes at you, standing up to block your reflection in the mirror. “Oh, no. You’re not getting away with that. We’re talking about this now.”

I hope you enjoy this!! Also happy new year everyone ❤️ I wish an amazing 2025 for all of you

If you enjoyed this make sure to check out my other posts, and if you’d like anything specific written for a jjba character/squad you can request it if my requests are open!