#even though i know they’re progressive and chill

[shoutsindwarvish]

i’m also leaving for yom kippur service (my first ever) in less than a half hour and plan to not come home until 8pm so i’m also getting anxious about that as well

[thedreamlessnights]

Since requests are open, here's my suggestion: I recently revisited my old mythology book and found one of the myths about aphrodite bathing in a lake and blinds some pervs that sneaked up to watch her. Now, the reader might not have the powers of a goddess but you know what she does have? A dagger-happy vampire boyfriend more than willing to shank unwanted peeping toms (in his defense, he actually asked if he could be there, so no harm done here). Idk, I just like the idea of the reader having scary dog privileges and Astarion not minding looking menacing/scary while doing so

Thank you so, so much for this request, anon. It's an absolutely incredible concept, and it fits Astarion so well! I had such a fun time writing it, and I really hope you enjoy the result!

For Your Eyes Only

Astarion x F!Reader - NSFW

Content warnings: Mentions of brief, non-consensual voyeurism. Somewhat graphic violence, as well as mentions of blood, degrading terms, and the description of an injury and death. Explicit sexual content, including: oral sex (receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, blood drinking, and ear play. Tags: Takes place post-Cazador, some point in Act 3. Includes mild spoilers. Established relationship, a bit of emotional hurt/comfort, and tender smut.

Word Count: 5.8k

After the darkness and chill of the Shadowlands, the heat in the city feels suffocating.

You missed the warmth dearly back then, trudging through despair and gloom, thinking of nothing but the inevitable relief of the city. Your bones always ached something awful in that foul place, never warm enough to ward away the icy air. Now, though, it occurs to you that you hadn’t fully appreciated the cold when you had it. 

The sun that streams down from the skies is blistering - scorching, even - and without reprieve or relief. Sweat courses down your neck, soaking the collar of your shirt. Your socks are damp inside your boots, and where the leather meets your calves, they’re chafing. 

Gods, what you wouldn’t give for a bit of that chill again. Even with the achy bones.

What’s worse is the mud, somehow. One would think that Baldur’s Gate would be scarce on its share of the stuff, but it’s everywhere. Tracked up from Rivington, puddling in the streets, clinging to the bottom of boots.

Granted, your boots have seen more than their fair share of mud since the nautiloid: sticky, wet, warm. It’s seeped into socks and splattered across new armor, stained some of your favorite nightwear. Sometimes, when you’ve finally settled down for dinner, you’ve been able to taste it. No amount of scrubbing rids you of the earthy, bitter taste for long. 

The mud in front of you is different, though. By all accounts, the heat should have baked everything at least somewhat dry, but this puddle remains. If it can even be called a puddle, really. The gloppy, wet mess looks more like a pond, and completely blocks the only path ahead. Even the edges of it remain entirely liquid. If you didn’t know better, you’d think it’d just rained.

A quick glance at your map confirms what you’d feared; this is the only nearby route to your destination. You’re on the outskirts of the city. Rock walls line either side of the path, too steep to climb. You know for a fact that Shadowheart had recently used your last Potion of Flying. Either you lose hours of progress to get Gale from camp so you can cross, or you’ll have to proceed through this stupid pond.

Astarion watches you eye the mess with a dramatic flick of his wrist. “Oh, by all means, darling, you go first!” he exclaims, raising a brow. “It won’t be me jumping in that slop.”

Karlach frowns at the mud’s appearance, tapping the toe of her boot against the surface. It ripples at the movement, brown waves gently sloshing against the surface of the nearby stone. “Can’t be that deep, right?”

“I don’t know,” you reply. You’re aching for a stick or loose branch, something to measure it, but there’s nothing around. Just grass and stone, the scalding sun on the back of your neck, and the muddy pond directly in the middle of the path. 

“I say we go back,” Shadowheart urges. “I don’t know about any of you, but I’m not keen on dirtying myself.”

“We’d have to backtrack through hours of traveling,” you point out. “There’s no other way forward. I’ve checked the map.”

“Fine,” she relents, crossing her arms across her chest. “You go first, and we’ll follow behind you. Once we’ve seen it’s safe, that is.”

And, hells, you do not want to step foot in there. Not one bit. Still, do you have much of a choice? Your feet are already aching from the day’s walk. It would be devastating to lose all your progress. So, no - you really don’t have a choice, not if you want to get those Netherstones and stop the Absolute in time. The quakes in the city have only been getting worse.

“Alright,” you finally reply, your voice stronger than you feel. 

You step forward, pressing your right boot against the mud, then apply your weight. Your heel breaks the surface with a terrifying rush of movement, and your leg instantly slides down into the muck - much deeper than you’d thought, deeper than it should be. When your foot hits the bottom, sticky, cold mud splatters up, painting your shirt, neck, and parts of your face. 

Suddenly, the day isn’t quite so warm.

When you finally muster the courage to look down, your right leg is submerged up to the knee, soaking through your trousers. You can practically hear the sick squelch of it making its way into your socks, squishing between your toes.

“Urgh,” you mutter, wrinkling your nose as you attempt to pull your leg up. “Disgusting.” But it won’t budge. In fact, your squirming seems to be making you sink down even further. You try to shift your weight, but your balance is uneven with one leg in and one leg out. You’re dangerously close to losing your footing, and every bit you struggle threatens to tilt you face-first into the makeshift mud pond. In a prime moment of idiocy, you plant your other foot in the mud for support, and find your bottom half completely unable to move.

“What a brilliant idea,” Shadowheart says. “Now you’re stuck.”

“Thank you, Shadowheart,” you grit out, sweat dripping down your neck as you attempt to twist yourself around. “I had no idea!”

Karlach steps behind you, laughing a little. “Come on. Up you go, soldier,” she says, leveraging her arms under yours and giving a quick tug. You’re expecting the mud to release you, but it doesn’t. Your legs don’t budge - not even an inch. 

“What in the…?” she mutters, giving another pull. This one has more force behind it; when she tries to haul you up, white-hot pain sears up through your ribs, ripping an agonized cry from your lips. No matter how hard she yanks, the mud’s grip only tightens around you. It’s beginning to feel like you’re a brittle piece of rope in a vicious game of tug-of-war. 

“Shit! I’m sorry!” she exclaims. “So, so, sorry!”

“What are you doing?” Astarion asks, his voice suddenly sharp. “You’re hurting her! Put her down!”

“So she can get sucked further into the mud?” Shadowheart asks. Her voice is lined with fear now, which is scaring you more than anything else about this miserable situation. “We have to get her out!”

But it quickly becomes clear that no matter how hard Karlach pulls, it’s useless. Every yank is agony, and you only sink further and further. Tears stream down your cheeks from the pain, and your spine feels like it’s gained a good two inches from being stretched, but still nothing. No give at all.

Eventually, Karlach lets you go. Your body plops down in relief, but the mud is somehow deeper than it was before. It’s up to the bottom of your ribs now. 

“Fuck me,” she pants, wiping her forehead. “What should we do?”

“How should I know?” Astarion’s face is drawn, more pallid than usual. His lips are pinched into a line. He should be telling you I told you so, making jokes - and you know he would be, if he were anything but absolutely terrified. Your panic is bad enough with the heaviness of the mud on your chest and lower body, but the look on his face? That tells you it’s even worse than it feels.

 “Step back,” Shadowheart instructs quietly. “I have an idea.” 

Once the two of them are out of the way, she steps forward. Stretching out her hands, she mutters an incantation into the air. In seconds, the slight chill of the mud surrounding you becomes sharp, painful ice that burns against every exposed inch of skin it touches. A very muddy shade of ice, but ice all the same. 

Karlach’s axe crashes through the surface and it shatters, breaking around you. After another hit and a moment of digging, she finally has you out: freezing, still covered in mud, and very sore - but alive.

“Thank you,” you manage, choking out the words between your shivering.

“Never say I didn’t do anything for you,” Shadowheart says, smiling a little. She lets out a breath of relief, the tension bleeding from her shoulders. “Now. Turning around, are we?”

By the time you get back to camp, you’re the most uncomfortable you’ve ever been in your life. You’re wet and cold and exhausted, caked with dried mud that pulls at your skin when you move. It’s in your hair, on your face, and in your shoes, squelching with every step. The feeling makes you want to crawl out of your skin. Your ribs are sore and achy, and - on top of all of that - you’ve lost a good day’s worth of travel. 

The only thing you want is to fall into Astarion’s arms, but he wrinkles his nose when you come near, holding out a finger to stop you. “Oh, no you don't,” he says. “Bath first. Then you can talk to me, darling.”

It seems no amount of persuasion is going to change his mind, so you head back to your tent and grab a number of supplies - soap, sponges, a towel, and a change of clothes. Your trusty knife for protection. The river is bound to be freezing, but it’s better than sponging yourself down and hoping for the best. 

Thank the gods you’d found a decent pair of boots in an abandoned house today, because the ones that are currently plastered to your feet will take days to dry out, even in the hot sun. When you get to the nearby river, you don’t even bother to take them off before you plunge them into icy water, sufficiently drenching them until you can furiously loosen the mud enough to slip them off and toss them onto the riverbank.

The rest of your clothing gets the same treatment: the trousers which slowly pull away from your skin, the shirt that’s splattered with mud and covered in it up to the waist. Your hair will no doubt be a disaster, too. 

You’re still sitting in the soaking-wet clothes when you hear the sound of a twig snapping behind you. Your hand instantly grabs for your knife, ready to throw it at whatever threat might be in the woods as your eyes sweep along the trees. 

Nothing. You find nothing.

“Darling,” comes Astarion’s voice. He slips out from the shadows, immaculately clean, gazing down at the weapon in your hand with a lifted brow. “Planning to render me dead twice-over?”

“You scared the living hells out of me, Astarion!” you snap, sucking in a shaky breath. The blade drops from your loosened fingers, softly thumping against the dirt. “What are you doing out here?” 

He steps closer, taking a seat on a nearby log. “You were taking ages to get clean,” he whines, sprawling out his legs in front of him. “And, unfortunately, our companions haven’t had an argument all night. How else am I meant to entertain myself? So here I am. Trudging through the woods for your company.”

“You could give me a warning next time,” you reply, still a little jarred. “I thought you were someone hoping to catch an eyeful.”

A smirk flickers across his lips. “Oh, but I am,” he says. “Do you mind terribly?”

Against your will, your cheeks heat, and his smile widens. “I don’t mind,” you say. “Not if you behave, that is. Hands to yourself.” 

“I’ll be on my very best behavior,” he promises. Leaning forward, he prods your boots, wrinkling his nose at the sight. “Gods below. Those disgusting things should be burned.”

“I have an extra pair.” You move to tug your shirt off, but it’s clinging to you. “Gods damn that stupid mud pile. I should have asked Gale to use a cleaning spell.”

“Oh, please,” Astarion says. “He’s been sulking in his tent all evening. Apparently, being asked to blow yourself up by an old flame doesn’t do much in the way of socializing.”

The shirt finally pulls free, and it’s clear that your smallclothes have received the same treatment as the rest of your garments. Gods, you really should have asked for that cleaning spell. This mud is going to take ages to get out.

“Hand that here,” Astarion says, motioning for your shirt. You toss it to him, and he inspects it closely before setting aside.

“What?” you ask. “What were you looking for?”

“Oh, darling, nothing,” he says. “That’s my ‘to be burned’ pile. We’ll get you a new one.”

You’d argue, but you aren’t very attached to your current outfit - and besides, after weeks of trekking through wilderness and Shadowlands alike, it’s falling apart even without the mud. 

“Do what you want with it,” you grumble, finally pulling off your smallclothes. “That shirt was barely surviving anyway.”

You glance over your shoulder and find him observing with a raised brow, slowly taking the sight of you in. You must look like a mess, but you’d never know it from the glint in the eye, or the complacent smile that plays upon his lips. Heat stirs low in your belly, simmering under your skin. Later, you tell yourself. When you aren’t covered in filth.

You lather up the soap on your sponge, scrubbing away the mud the best you can, but the damned stuff takes ages to get off. By the time you’re finally clean, the silvery moon is high in the sky, and your skin is beginning to prune.

Astarion makes a small comment or two, but mostly seems content to watch you in silence. His gaze burns over every inch of exposed skin, leaving phantom heat wherever it stalls. All you want is to get out of this damned river and touch him, but you’re determined to get every bit of the mud off before you do, and it’s taking much longer than you’d hoped.

When you’re finally presentable, you start on cleaning your filthy smallclothes. The soap is slippery, making it difficult to do much scrubbing, and the water alone is doing hardly anything. 

Astarion watches you struggling, huffing as you nearly drop the soap bar in the river. After a moment, he lets out an exasperated sigh. “Dearest, you do realize that it would be much easier if you-”

But his words suddenly cut off. His head snaps toward the woods, and every nerve in your body burns with fear. In the span of seconds, he’s lunged forward, grabbed your knife, and darted after the sound. 

Not a moment later, there’s a loud crash - some form of impact as he tackles whatever it was that he heard. You instantly push yourself out of the water without thinking, numb, your heart pounding in your chest as you stumble into the forest after him. It only takes a few steps in before you see it: a man on the ground, Astarion’s knife to his throat.

Your stomach churns, and your skin prickles in the air’s chill. How much had he seen? How long had he been standing there?

Astarion is shouting something at him, and the stranger is struggling against his hold, but it’s useless. He’s a scrawny, weak little thing, no match for Astarion’s lithe, nimble strength. No amount of twisting or fighting dislodges Astarion’s grip. After a moment, he finally gives up, cackling like an old hag as his head plops down against the dirt.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you here and now,” Astarion hisses, anger contorting his features.

In response, the man spits in his face. “She’s your bitch, is she?” he croaks. “You can take a turn after I’m done with her.”

Astarion snarls in response, gripping the man’s collar and pressing the blade deeper into the skin until it draws blood. 

“Wait,” you call, stepping closer. “Don’t.”

Astarion blinks in disbelief, sitting up, careful to keep his weight on the stranger underneath. “My love, you can’t be serious,” he says. “You want to spare this-”

“Spare?” you echo, cutting off his words. “Who said anything about sparing him?” 

Something glints in his gaze as he takes in your words. “Darling,” he drawls, his tone admirational. “By all means.”

He hands you the knife, and you kneel down next to him. It’s heavy in your hand, cold and smooth as you run your finger over the flat edge of the blade. You stare at the shimmer of it for a moment, entranced, somehow calm in the midst of this chaos. Then you slam the bottom of the hilt into the man’s nose.

There’s a sickening crunch before he screams, blood streaming over his mouth and spilling down his chin. Even after last night’s feeding, Astarion tenses up at the smell of it, but the curl of his lip tells you that he won’t be drinking from this piece of absolute refuse.

When the stranger reaches over and grabs at your arm, you almost don’t even realize - you’re so caught up in your own mind, in the weight of the knife in your hand. Then his nails dig into your skin, and everything hits you at once.

The freezing night air. The stinging, throbbing pain that flares through your skin as he claws at you, unable to do much more. The feel of Astarion’s hand, gentle but firm, prying the knife from your grip. It happens before you can even react - a swift slice of the blade, slitting the man’s throat. Dark blood, gushing from the wound and onto the dirt below.

For a moment, there is nothing but the sound of your breathing. Sharp but shallow, straining in your chest. Jagged air that flows in and out, but it does nothing to stop the increasing amount of black in your vision. 

You’ve fought and killed more people than you can count so… why does this feel different? Why here, why now? You’ve nearly died before, so why does the scrape on your arm feel like it’s much more than that?

Then Astarion’s hands envelop your cheeks, blissfully cool, and the panic and pain seep out all at once.

“Darling,” he’s saying, half-breathless, “are you alright?”

You manage to nod, and some of the concern leaves his eyes. He runs his fingers over the scrape on your arm, and you wince. “We need to get you patched up,” he murmurs, his brows pinching together.

“Don’t take me to Shadowheart,” you choke out. She’s already done you enough favors, and you won’t be able to stand her disapproving gaze if you disturb her rest after today’s fiasco.

He huffs. “Stubborn little thing,” he mutters, but he doesn’t argue. 

Instead, he heads back to your supplies by the river. When he returns, he wraps a towel over your shoulders, and it’s only then that you realize you’re naked. Completely, utterly naked. It had been bold of you to break that bastard’s nose in the nude, but… well, it hadn’t been your intention.

He’s dead now, though. He’ll never look at you again.

Astarion sweeps you up into his arms and carries you out of the woods along with your clean change of clothes, holding you tight against his chest and leaving your soiled clothing behind. 

You can’t find it in you to care at the moment. You’ve scrounged up plenty of clothing along the journey; those torn, stained things won’t be missed. Not to mention, if you ever need more, Astarion will gladly steal you some new ones.

He takes you to your tent, and you’re grateful to see that everyone else has turned in for the night. Anyone awake to see you would inevitably have questions, and this only affirms your decision to avoid Shadowheart - if you woke her up to heal a minor scrape on your arm, she’d be seething. 

And though she’d undoubtedly be sympathetic after hearing the cause, you don’t think you can muster up the words to tell her what’d happened.

After he’s carefully set you down on your bedroll, Astarion yanks the flap of your tent closed and reaches for your pack, digging through the contents until he’s found some bandages. His grip is gentle as he takes your arm and swipes some remnants of a healing potion over it. You’ve been through this dozens of times, but you can never seem to shake the urge to wince as it sets in - the potion stings just a bit before it soothes, a sharp tingling that fades into a sweet, balming relief. 

You’ve calmed down some, warming up in your tent with him, but Astarion’s hands are shaking as he wraps the wound. His brows are pinched together, his swallows are thick and strained, and he can’t seem to meet your eyes, even when he’s done bandaging you up.

“Astarion,” you murmur. “He’s dead.”

He stills in place, jaw clenching as he inhales sharply, still not meeting your gaze. Instead, he glowers down at the tent’s floor, his hands balling into fists. “He deserved so much worse than that,” he snaps. 

You don’t argue with him. Instead, you let him fuss over you, taking the time to smooth through your wet hair, plucking out remaining leaves and twigs from the woods. He gets you into a warm, fluffy robe - only the gods know where he’d managed to find something like that - then pulls you close, his thumb stroking over your cheek. You rest your head against his chest and close your eyes, listening to the soft sounds of his body working under his skin. No heartbeat, of course, just the quiet churn of his movements, the rise and fall of his ribs that’s become habit to him. 

After a moment, he takes your face in his hands, just as he had in the woods - but when you meet his gaze, there’s a sharp intensity in his eyes rather than fear. He takes you in little by little, tilting your head up to brush his fingers over the fading marks on your neck. 

Then he leans in, and you catch the smell of him you know so well, lingering on his skin like soap. Bergamot, rosemary, brandy. It’s what you associate most with him, that sweet, sharp scent that bathes over you. When his lips finally meet yours, the kiss is rough and desperate, heated and aching. His fangs scrape over your lip, grazing the delicate skin but not breaking it. His tongue slides into your mouth, and his hand returns to the back of your neck, tightening his grip.

One of your hands fix into his shirt as you lean into him, nipping at his lip. You shift your free hand up into his hair, tousling through the soft, silky curls before gently tugging. He groans and pulls you closer, and - gods, it’s incredible. Warmth drags down your spine like a hot coal, searing and addictive. You squirm a little in his grasp, shifting until you’re straddling his hips, and he pulls away to kiss down your jaw, murmuring soft words into the skin.

When he gets to your chest, you let him untie the robe and spread his hands underneath, peeling the fabric off your shoulders, fingers slowly warming as they trail down your back. His hands settle on your waist as he kisses you again, mouth soft against yours.

Gods, you need him. You’re already soaked, and he’s barely even touched you.

You can feel him hardening underneath you, his movements growing desperate, his breathing labored. You grind your hips against him and he lets out a strained noise against your lips, shuddering. He pulls away, examining your expression as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. 

The movement is tender and incredibly sweet, but you’re hardly patient. You’ve been wanting him ever since he sat on that log in the forest, gaze roaming over every inch of you. You let out a soft whine, attempting to tug off his shirt. He does absolutely nothing to help you.

“Astarion,” you breathe. “Please.”

“Hm? Did you want something, darling?” he asks, the desire in his voice betraying his otherwise casual tone.

“I want you,” you tell him, rolling your hips again in search of the friction you so desperately need. “Please. I want you.”

“Easy, love. You have me,” he replies, brushing his thumb against your lips. Your heart swells with a fondness that would threaten to make you cry if you weren’t so ridiculously needy.

And finally, thank the gods, he takes off his godsdamned shirt.

You run a hand up his shoulder, then into his hair. You’d once thought that he was using a special shampoo - his hair was so soft, it seemed the only explanation. Then you’d seen him with the same shampoo you were using, and you’d practically wept with envy over his ridiculously perfect genes. Even now, as you run your hands through the silk-soft curls, you don’t understand it. 

Then you trace up the line of his ear, and he shudders, leaning into your touch. When you gently massage the tip of his helix, he lets out a soft, seeking noise and his eyes flutter shut. Hells, you swear that you can feel him growing even harder beneath you. Another roll of your hips and his eyes slowly open again, half-lidded and glazed with desire. His hands firmly grip your waist, and there’s the briefest sensation of falling as he rolls you back onto your bedroll, tucking the pillow under your head.

He kisses along your clavicle, nosing down your ribs, humming against your skin. Feather-light brushes of his lips meet your ribs, then your breast, pausing to swipe his tongue over your nipple before he proceeds downward. When he arrives at your navel, your legs automatically spread open for him, and he lets out a hum of approval. He takes a leg in his hand and kisses up the thigh, warm, sharp kisses that trail up to the place you want him most.

He starts off slowly - a long lick over your clit, a quick swipe of his tongue before he settles between your legs, propping your thigh over his shoulder and starting a maddening rhythm. After all this time, you really should know how much pleasure to expect - but after everything, after his confession in the Shadowlands and the fear with Cazador, this still feels… new.

And Astarion is very, very good at what he does. He seems to know exactly what you want before you do, before your mind can put it into tangible thought, and before your body can even search for it. He works a finger into you, then two, and you’re left gasping and squirming as he sets an agonizingly slow pace. After a moment, he speeds up, just where you want him, perfect, perfect-

And then he pulls away, and the look on his face practically shouts that he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. Of course he does. He’s always been a tease. His fingers continue their work, languidly dragging in and out of you as he speaks.

“You know,” he says, pressing a kiss to your thigh, “back at the river, this was all I could think about. Getting my mouth on you. Watching you come apart piece by piece.”

Gods, he’s been direct before, but never that direct. Frankly, you’re surprised you don’t come then and there. Instead, you clench hard around his fingers and whimper, rolling your hips in time with his movements.

“Astarion,” you pant, unable to coax your mind into forming a coherent reply. “Gods, Astarion.”

He hums in response, flashing you a wicked grin. “That’s it, darling,” he encourages, shifting his fingers until they’re brushing against a spot that makes your vision black out. “Say my name. Let everyone hear you.”

You manage a laugh that quickly fades into a soft moan. “The entire camp will kill me if I wake them up.”

He nips at your thigh. “Let them try,” he muses. “They’ll have to get through me.”

He lowers his mouth between your legs again, and your head falls back against the pillow. It’s an embarrassingly short time before your muscles start to tense up, wiring you with pleasure from head to toe. One of your hands fixes in his hair, pulling tightly as white-hot pleasure sparks through your abdomen, and oh, gods, you’re coming-

Your vision cuts out again. Your mind fuzzes over, drunk with pleasure, leaving you shuddering, clenching around his fingers, moaning into your free hand. 

You know he’d prefer to hear you, but if you actually disturb any of the others, you’ll die of embarrassment. One day, the two of you will have your own house with a real bed, and you’ll be as loud as you want. For now, you muffle your cries into your fingers and tremble through your climax.

Your body floats weightlessly for a moment in what must be Elysium, until you finally rejoin yourself and find your limbs heavy and uncoordinated. Astarion huffs, placing a final kiss on you until he crawls upward, kissing up your chest again. 

He’s still holding himself back - you can see it in the way he moves, in the tension of his muscles and the coil of his shoulders. There’s a fire in his eyes, a hunger that you recognize so well. When he reaches your neck, you instinctively tilt your head, allowing him access to his usual spot. 

For a moment, he hesitates, his warm breath fanning over the skin as your pulse hammers in your throat. Then he groans, grinding himself into your leg as he bites down, chasing his pleasure against your thigh as your blood spills into his mouth.

You know this routine so very well by now. The sting of the bite, and the numbness that follows. The ebb and flow of your blood, filling his mouth. The slight dizziness that comes before he pulls away, swiping his tongue over the bite for one final taste.

“Gods,” he pants, gripping your shoulder. Then, to your utter disappointment and confusion, he pulls away. “Wait here, my sweet. I need to - I’ll be right back. I promise.”

And before you can protest, he’s scrambling out the tent. For a long, numb moment, you stare at the tent opening, wondering if you’re dreaming. The silence of the tent grates on your ears, echoing the sound of your breathing until you can barely stand it. Then he’s pushing inside again, a scroll in hand as he closes the tent.

“Do I want to know what that is?” you ask.

“A scroll of Silence, darling. I’ve been saving it.” He flashes you a grin, murmuring the incantation as the scroll shimmers in his hand. Pure Weave, confined into parchment. 

You don’t hear the spell take effect, but you feel it. It’s a thickness in the air, a heaviness in your movements. 

Astarion doesn’t waste another second. He pushes up to kiss you, and it’s messy - your tongue against his, the sting of sharp teeth, your hand in his hair and his hand on the nape of your neck. There’s the taste of metal and herbs: your blood mixed with the remnants of a healing potion. He spreads your legs with his knee, then sits back on his heels and reaches down to undo his trousers.

You study him for a moment. The crease of his brow. The alabaster of his skin, sculpted out like a statue from marble. 

If you were an artist, you’d make him your life’s work. You’d chip out his every feature little by little, painstakingly working away at the stone to define the look in his eyes when he tells you he loves you. You’d spend ages carving every wrinkle, every line, every perfect imperfection. The touch of it would be cold, like him, but it could never compare to how he looks as he settles over you, eyes blown dark with desire. 

He inches closer, still on his knees, and takes hold of your thighs, lifting them up to meet his hips before gently easing inside of you. He lets out a sharp exhale as he slowly presses deeper, his grip shifting to your waist.

Nothing could compare to the way it feels as he fills you up inch by inch, murmuring praise, telling you how beautiful you are for him. “Darling,” he bites out, gritting his teeth at the pleasure. “If anyone ever tries anything like that with you again, I’ll tear them to shreds.”

You laugh a little, breathless, delirious in the delicious stretch of him inside you. “I won’t stop you. I just might ask to break their nose first.”

He shakes his head, but a small smile plays on his lips before he straightens and starts his rhythm. Slow, even thrusts that leave you grasping at the blankets beneath you, trying to steady yourself in the waves of sensation. He stares down at you, half-drunk on your blood, lips parted and his cheeks flushed.

“You feel incredible,” he breathes. “Gods. You’re incredible.”

Your eyes don’t quite know where to land. They never do. Now, they flutter over his abdomen, taking in the sight of the muscles that ripple and contract with the rolling of his hips. The droplets of sweat that slowly build on his skin, glimmering like crystals. 

His jaw clenches, and his pace starts to quicken, and the feeling of him inside of your aching cunt is just so godsdamned good. His cock stretches you out like it was made for you, and soon your lungs are hardly filling with air. You can’t think, and you can scarcely breathe. All you know is that you’re not going to last much longer.

You tug at the blankets and shut your eyes, and he lets out another soft, aching noise as he thrusts deeper, faster, filling you up, the slick sound of your arousal echoing through the tent and mixing with the heaving of your breaths. You clench around him and he groans, shifting the angle of your hips, rhythm frantic.

“That’s it,” he pants. “Come for me, darling.”

And you do. Your body clenches around him as you cry out, back arching, pleasure overtaking every thought but one: Astarion. Astarion, Astarion, Astarion. Your breaths scrape shallowly through your chest and ecstasy burns through every inch of you, every nerve - until you feel paralyzed. Content, thoroughly fucked and sated, but paralyzed.

 You’ve just started to come back to your senses when Astarion follows you over the edge, a moan tumbling from his lips that sounds remarkably like your name. His hips thrust a few more times, chasing after his pleasure, clumsy movements that slow to a halt as he shuts his eyes. He shudders, then slackens, carefully pulling out of you before he wraps his hands around your thighs and gently lowers them back to the bedroll.

You can barely move, still lost in the aftershocks of pleasure as he cleans you up, smoothing the hair out of your face as he lays next to you.

“You know,” he says, “I think I’m going to ask Gale to make us another one of those scrolls.”

And, gods, all you can do is laugh.

[ebullientheart]

the nice guy. spencer reid x reader

content — fluff. humour. fem!bau!reader. casual mention of sex. loosely based on season four episode nine. case talk. nondescript injury to reader.

you explain to spence the difference between a nice guy and a ‘nice guy’.

“i don’t understand this.”

morgan spun on his chair, “what’s that, wonder boy?”

the files he was flicking through were baffling him. each of the interview transcripts read the same sort of thing. ‘oh, he was a textbook ‘nice guy’ you know’, or something to that effect.

you were the one conducting that set of witness interviews, and the text before him showed no confusion on your part as you continued your original line of questioning. concluding this meant you understood, spencer ignored derek’s response and instead got up to find you. predictably, in garcia’s office, watching unreleased films, seeing as your paperwork was long completed.

“can i ask you something?” he interjected, causing penelope to throw popcorn at him as a consequence of her surprise.

“can you knock?” she quipped back, but he wasn’t really listening to her. spencer could become pretty single minded when he set his focus on something, especially if it was something he didn’t understand.

you excused yourself and followed him into the hall. the simple window on your right showed nothing but the clouded night sky, meaning only a few people lingered in the office now. spencer turned the light on by reaching past your head to the switch, while you tried to ignore the way your stomach felt upon having him lean over you.

clearing your throat, you addressed him, “what did ya need, spence?”

he showed you what he’d been preoccupied with, ��what does this mean? we profiled our unsub as desperate, creepy, and we were right. why did they all describe him as a nice guy?”

you pondered for a moment on how best to explain it to him before you answered.

“they’re kind of being sarcastic. a textbook ‘nice guy’ is a guy who really pities himself, quotes ‘nice guys finish last’, that sort of thing. he thinks he’s so kind, and for that women owe him sex, so when they don’t meet that standard, he just believes women only like jerks. he sees himself as good, but he doesn’t comprehend why women would take offence to his sexual reward system for human decency.”

spencer frowned, “there are enough of them that women have a collective name for this?”

you nodded, “trademarked and everything.”

“really?”

“no, kidding.”

he smiled at you and you returned it, his curiosity fulfilled and his faith in humanity slightly lessened, as it was case by case.

a few days later, you were all jetting off to another police department, examining files and bouncing theories. spencer sat on your left, the only one close enough to hear the low rumble of your stomach. chuckling to himself, he produced a breakfast bar from his satchel and slid it over to you. the overjoyed expression on your face at food, and food in your favourite flavour, prompted him to remember your ‘nice guy’ conversation.

you offered him your thanks and he answered, “you’re welcome. no sex required.”

even though he was half kidding, half sincere, you gave him a whole laugh, easy and unabashed. the smile he donned was satisfied at initiating such glee from you.

as the investigation progressed, the danger became more and more apparent. the team knew someone was going to end up hurt, but it didn’t stop them from flinching as they saw you swinging your legs in the back of an ambulance, taking emergency blood supply. you rolled your eyes at their concern, “really, i’m fine guys. just a scratch.”

they weren’t so quick to dismiss your injury, but they didn’t hover. they had protocol to follow, local cops to brief, and press to alert. the only one who lingered was spencer, awkwardly sitting next to you at your invitation. he thought about wrapping an arm around your bare shoulder as a chill set in the air, but was too afraid to dislodge the tube. you bit the bullet of his worrying and leaned until he was prompted to support you.

“are you alright?” he knew it wasn’t the right thing to ask you, but he wasn’t sure what else to say in that moment, not when you were pressed against him so the warmth from your body bled through his vest to his own skin.

you gave a light shrug, but didn’t comment further, instead saying, “you’re nice, spencer. the real way.”

he hummed, “how’d you know?”

“nice guy trademark would’ve tried to kiss me by now. you’re just holding me.”

he knew what he was about to admit was a risk, but the question burned in his throat, “what if i wanted to? kiss you?”

you looked up at him and his heart skipped a beat. if he tried, he could count every one of your eyelashes, even though a few were clumped together by smudges of mascara that had congealed in your initial reaction to the wound. there was a brightness in your irises that sparked something in his chest. the hand you could move freely came up to his face, which had become flushed. you could feel the heat beneath your palm, but couldn’t make it out visually with his back to the ambulance light.

“i’d think you’re even nicer.”

he didn’t seem all that surprised, “can i?”

“please.”

[ruvaidwani]

Schizo Ruvaid :

I once read in a psychology book that the earlier in life that one appears odd, the more severely they’re likely to be impacted by their mental illness later on in life. I guess you could say that’s the case for me. I can trace certain thoughts back to as early as 6 years old. I had crippling social anxiety and would become fearful of totally irrational things. Irrational even for that age. I was freaked out constantly and didn’t even like walking to the bathroom in my own house during the day time. I had this sensation that someone was right behind me all the time. I never felt alone.

My psychotic symptoms appeared when I was 12. They were brief and very spread out then. The first hallucination I ever remember was seeing a black hole or portal in my yard. By 14–15, I was having visual hallucinations nearly constantly. Mostly when I was by myself though. They really scared me . My parents didn’t wanna hear it because it upset them.

Around that time I also started having delusions that stalkers from my old school were crawling in my air vents, so I’d always close the vents. I believed I had to punish myself to absolve the world of its pain and sins and that was my duty on this earth. This led me to hurting or torturing myself in various ways. I believed I had a sort of gift to communicate with the ghost world but I couldn’t brag about it or else I’d be a pompous sinner like all the rest.

I also would hallucinate glowing quotation marks and I thought that was the spirit world quoting my thoughts. Whenever that would happen I’d focus extra hard on whatever I was thinking because I thought the spirits were trying to tell me it had a deeper meaning about how to punish myself for the world. I would also think random things were making vague references to my thoughts and that was a punishment toward me to make me suffer and go crazy.

There was also this delusion I had that my bathroom mirror was a two way mirror and I didn’t shower often because I didn’t want whoever was on the other side to see me naked. And I would see this caterpillar man on the bathroom door and I don’t know why but I believed he was the spirit of a criminal.

When I was 18 I started having more vivid hallucinations as well as nightmares where I’d wake up and see visions. I got these new visuals where shadows would commit suicide in front of me. I also started hearing voices at this time, usually at night. I would hear static and a lady calling me rude names and just repeating words. And I heard a man’s voice saying the name of a TV character. I also began losing my train of thought mid sentence or text or forget what words I’m trying to say. Or I will misread words on paper.

Despite the toll this takes on me, I keep it mostly to myself. I know deep down I am either gifted with the ability to see the forces around us, or I genuinely have schizophrenia.

I stay to myself as much as I can in my room. I do have to study and I manage to get through it. I’d say I’m pretty functional though I am constantly tormented with fears and thoughts. I can never truly chill out because it’s always going on and I can’t just fully ignore it or get used to it. I just hope that it doesn’t progress past this point.

It got worse when I was 18 I started to hallucinate more but it got better after I overcame my addiction but now it's happening again

[radiant-cowgirl]

am i the only person who wants a video of david or ash explaining to their respective partners that magic is real and they’re real life werewolves?

i think babe would just be like “oh word, so you’re a furry and/or therian” and be super chill about it because they’ve always struck me as a really relaxed and progressive person and asher would have to be like no hold on wait.

and despite angel’s goofiness, i think they would have a million and one totally valid and logical questions. because you know for some reason, there just happened to be a coincidence that they’ve never seen davey on a full moon and they misconstrue it, even though that makes sense, given the circumstances. like you know that one quote where it’s like “don’t mistake my kindness for weakness” angel is that but “don’t mistake my silliness for a lack of intelligence”

anyways i just wanna hear david specifically try to explain shifters and magic as a whole

[lemon-natalia]

Nona the Ninth Reaction - John 1:20

i honestly hadn’t considered that John would have access to a bunch of other info, like the FTL planning to leave everyone behind, via the politician he’s puppeting around. he’s practically running the government of this unspecified country at this point. i mean i guess it was good practice for everything he’d later end up doing as Emperor 

‘I’ve got plans for that arm’ um. what. y'know what i really really don’t want to even know

for a guy who keeps saying he didn’t want to nuke anything he’s reallyyy leaning into the nukes every chance he gets

something i find very interesting is that John possibly also has powers besides necromancy that he’s seemingly glossed over a lot? even though they’re very toothy, he can apparently grow roses, and earlier C— talks about him potentially stabilising the North Glacier like that’s something he could definitely do. i wonder if it is actually possible to use thalergy, the life energy stuff, which really never gets mentioned that much tbh, in a similar way to thanergy?

ok how on earth is ‘Cows exhibit mourning behaviour for other cows’ such a goddamn impactful line. like its a really chilling moment of John confirming that he’s willing to start a nuclear war rather than let the ships leave. and it’s also objectively fucking ridiculous

John’s reflection here on his friends doubting him, and how ‘People don’t forgive, not really’ is very interesting considering his actions at the end of HtN, where he asks Augustine if they can have a ‘fresh slate’ in the wake of him killing Mercy. idk really what i’m trying to say here, but i do wonder how much John really meant what he was offering there 

well what with Ianthe, Harrow, and Kiriona, John certainly took M—’s remark about recruiting teenage girls in the next cult to heart

what i’m personally choosing to take away from this chapter is that multitasking is the true villain of the Locked Tomb universe. get some sleep and stop trying to do six things at once kids, or you might just end up nuking the entire earth

‘I can’t Sister. It’s too big’ i’m quite frankly a little disappointed that John didn’t take the opportunity to make a ‘that’s what she said’ joke here

holy crap, the nun shooting herself is certainly a moment. this is really leaning into the eldritch horror of what it would be like to be a human and aware of the Earth literally screaming at you

there’s such a tragic contrast between M— literally begging in her last moments for them not to shoot John vs Mercy being the one to kill him & John killing her so horrifically in return

John’s been essentially levelling up in necromancy as all of these chapters have progressed, but it’s a truly horrifying level of power he displays here. it’s not even the nukes that end up killing a lot of people, because John points out that he was able to just straight up snap the necks of about half of the entire world population

so much about this chapter is just walking the line between absurdist comedy and abject horror, but there is something just so … viscerally disturbing about the mental image of John literally just eating dirt as he consumes the soul of the Earth 

THIS is where the Barbie comparison comes in??? this?! John modelled a body for the remains of the soul of the partially-absorbed soul of the earth after BARBIE?!! talk about taking Barbieheimer to a whole new level

‘I drank them in, and it wasn’t enough’ someone better at comedy than me has probably made a very Hungry Caterpillar joke about this chapter 

‘You and I went full fucking Hungry Caterpillar’ DUDE. ok i stg i made the Hungry Caterpillar annotation immediately before i read like the next page and saw this 

‘I picked you to change [...] I still love you’ well, there’s some form of answer about how John actually got his necromancy in the first place. there’s something so awful about being a human being given powers you just straight up can’t really comprehend by a being so much bigger than you out of love 

the message reads ‘THE/TOWER/HAS/REACTIVAT’. at this point i can’t really think of anything else it could say other than ‘reactivated’. and given this is the chapter where John describes himself as becoming God, there’s something very poetic about the chapter heading being John 1:20, in which John the Baptist confesses that he isn’t the Messiah

[probablysya]

Half The World Away - Gojo Satoru x Kamo!Reader

chapter one ⟡ Eveything I Never Wanted

Synopsis: Summer Festival is around the corner and the summer heat made Kamo (Y/N) remember the day she was thrust into the world of sorcerer. She feels changes inside her as time goes. Her grandfather wanted to know everything and ask regarding her relationship with the infamous Gojo Satoru. 

Warning: curse words, blood, gore, forced restraint, choking, ritualistic elements (the bloody gore and all will only be in the intro but it will be occurring as the series progress)

pls read author’s note below, ty

(also this is a repost. I had to fix some of the errors as in the earlier draft, I already had a name for the reader but decide to scratch the idea, link in the masterlist is also updated)

—

Autumm 1996

By the time she found her way in the room she was told to, she noticed the room was filled with Ofuda and Talisman paper and lit candles as the light source. She saw some familiar faces and many unfamiliar faces in the room. In the middle of the room, her grandfather, her father and two men that she doesn’t know stand there with tense expressions on their faces. One of the men, a Kannushi, is holding some sort of goblet cup, not too big but definitely it is not a small cup either. They’re all wearing formal attire, an attire that she rarely sees but she understands it’s a big deal if both of them wear it. 

Every step feels very heavy, not to mention all kinds of prayers being chanted as she walks to her father. She felt like she’s being commanded to walk to them. She is very confused. She was in her study room when she heard a knock from her door. The family servants notified her that her grandfather, the head of the Kamo Family, was waiting for her. Kamo Family, one of the big three families in Jujutsu Sorcerer Society, Kamo Family is viewed as conservative and orthodox faction due to how much they value tradition and blood lineage above anything else.  The family has long rooted history all the way to the Golden Age of Sorcery. But what does she know about any of this, she’s six years old. 

Before she came to the ‘ceremonial room’, she was dressed in white yukata and her hair was kept simple in a braid. After they finished preparing her, she asked them, “what is this for? Where’s my mother?”. But she got no reply, all of them left but one. This one servant kept her head down. She looked around and noticed that the whole house was dark and only used candles as the light source and there were a lot of candles lit, this sight brings chills to her spine. “What’s going on?” But she still got no answer, it frustrates her so much. 

(Y/N) stopped her steps as she saw a hand signed by her grandfather, he later ordered her, “Sit”. (Y/N) did as she was told, though she is still confused about what's going on. She took small glances to her left and right and there she noticed, all of their palms are bandaged. Her brows frowned but later looked up as her grandfather said, “My family, you are all gathered here, to witness the rebirth of a miracle. My granddaughter, (Y/N), has shown signs of an inherited gift we’ve been waiting for. A female sorcerer with Blood Manipulation Technique. Daughter of Kamo Family” It follows by answering, “as written”.

(Y/N), who is still confused, wanted to talk but she felt like her lips were shut tight, even if she opened her mouth, no words came out from it. “My dear, I can feel that you’re scared and confused”. The head clan took a step down and made (Y/N) look at him by holding her chin up, he can see her eyes shaken in fear. She felt that her mouth was finally listening to her and screaming to her grandfather, “Grandfather, what is going on? Why’s everyone here and their hands are being bandages?”. She only got an answer from him, “It’ll end soon, my dear. Accept the blessings and set your soul free” What is that supposed to mean?

The Kannushi walked down towards her as her grandfather walked back and stood next to his son, (Y/N)’s father. The Kannushi walked down and people in the room started to recite prayers. The room became so suffocating to her and her vision started to blur. She wanted to get up and leave. The people in front and guards noticed that (Y/N) wanted to leave, in their eyes, she wanted to flee. They went to her and held her down. (Y/N) later struggled to be free, “No! Let me go” 

The guards restrained her firmly and  pressed her legs hard to the cold stone floor. One of them grasped her face, fingers almost digging painfully into her cheeks, forcing her mouth open wide. The Kannushi now stood in front of her, still holding the goblet with both of his hands and stared her down, and he later chanted, “May the blood of Kamo shall set your soul free”. Wait, the goblet— it’s all of their blood? She asked herself: Did Grandfather make all of them cut their hands for all that blood?

The Kannushi tilted the ornate goblet, the thick blood cascading over her lips and down to her throat, leaving (Y/N) no choice but to swallow it. (Y/N) stared back at Kannushi, as he was still pouring the goblet to her. Her white yukata is stained red due to the blood. She tasted the goblet’s content in her nostrils, in the roof of her mouth, in her cheeks—it was sticky and warm, the taste was odd, iron-like, the smells were off-putting and strong. (Y/N) swallowed as much as she could, but she couldn’t swallow anymore due to the overwhelming taste and smell. She knocked the goblet with her head, and she fell. She coughed a lot and spitted some of the blood out. Her body shakes and laying down as trying to adapt to the content she drank. Something’s wrong

Everything went silent, but she could tell that their mouths were open and chanted prayer. She felt everything inside her starting to feel the effects from the blood she drank. Her body changes, adapting. She felt she could listen to everyone’s thoughts inside her room—No, every Kamo’s thoughts and it's so loud. “Stop talking” she said, covering her ears but that didn’t stop her from hearing all the voices, it became louder. She can sense from her surroundings. It's like there’s many fireworks inside her, to be exact her brain. With her new found sense, she looks for her mother but she’s nowhere to be found, and it hits her—Mother is not a Kamo. 

Her eyes have been closed since and she just realized. But when she opened her eyes and stared at frozen expressions around her, Why is everyone stay still? She asked herself. But her answer was later In front of her as she felt an explosion of light within her view. She looked in the direction as there she saw a young woman. She’s wearing the same white yukata as her. Young one, she said. You have now opened the memories of all Kamo in this room and the ones that came before them, all of them are relieved inside you. When (Y/N) can feel her mouth that has been frozen since she noticed time stopped for her, she asked, “Why? Why me?”

Because you are a female sorcerer with Blood Manipulation Technique, there has not been any female with Blood Manipulation Technique in four hundred years, she answered. “But I don't want any of this. I don't want to be a sorcerer!” She replied, pleading. You have to, even if you want it or not—your body still adapting, being burdened with memories of Kamo since the dawn of Jujutsu Sorcerer is too much for a young child. (Y/N) is still trying to process what's and why’s, but then (Y/N) felt a pang in her. Memories flashed through her eyes so quickly, it's so overwhelming that she wanted to scream. The woman comes close to (Y/N), covering her eye with her hand. She’s so close that (Y/N) felt shivers in her seizing body and whispered to her ears,

Open your eyes

(Y/N) opens her eyes and she feels a flash in the eyes, before everything was monotone color but now her color vision is back to what it was, but it's so much vibrant? She heard cries of her name, screaming it's a miracle in front of them. Someone eased her to a sitting position. She was trying to process what just happened. Everything was so much for her to understand that she didn’t even realize her gray eyes turned red. Her father and grandfather took a good look at her and understood that her cursed technique had awoken. Her grandfather praised, “Bless our salvation. Bless our Holy Daughter”. Then everybody repeats what her grandfather said, some even had tears come out from them. (Y/N) clutched to her blood soaked yukata and just watched. Voices and bells ringing overwhelm her hearing. This is not real, this is not real, this is not—

“(Y/N)!”

“(Y/N) WAKE UP”

—

June 2006 

She opened her eyes and saw the sky and Haibara looking down at her. She can feel the grass in the back of her body. Wait, how long did I sleep? she asked herself

“You okay?” Haibara asked, offering a hand for her to help stand up, which (Y/N) accepted. “Yeah, I just had a long dream”. She looked behind Haibara and there’s Nanami leaning to the side of the pole with his hand crossed. Haibara was grabbing her pole arm while she looked at her reflection from the black screen from her phone. Thank god it’s not red. She heard it again, the bells. Haibara and (Y/N) looked at the sound direction and they saw the Kannushis and Mikos ringing the bell, although the temple is very far from the school field, the sound of the bells can be heard all the way. “Guess it’s their way to celebrate the upcoming Matsuri” Haibara said. He stared at (Y/N), who kept looking at the temple and how the Mikos ringing the bell, she got lost in thought. Somehow it brings her bad memories, Haibara thought to himself.

“(Y/N) '' Haibara touched her shoulder, snapping her out from her thoughts, she looked at Haibara and smiled. “Sorry, I might have overdone it” She told him. 

“Wanna go to the clinic? Nanami and I can take you there, '' Haibara offered. She looked down, afraid to look at his face. Haibara has been nothing but kind to her. A sunshine, she said to herself when she met Haibara for the first time. Yu Haibara, first year of Jujutsu High along with Naomi and the other guy, Nanami. Haibara is cheerful and optimistic, it wasn't hard to see that Haibara sees good in everyone, even he’ll probably see good in criminals and would defend them if he has the chance. Haibara has been the bridge between her and Nanami. Both of them were quiet, although (Y/N) still talks and not completely shut herself off from everyone, Nanami however…probably it’s easy to tell about him. That is why she is grateful for having a friend like Haibara. He made the team dynamic work, despite how odd the outsider thinks. 

“It’s fine, Haibara. It’s just the heat. Although it’s good for me, at least that’s what the doctor told me, Vitamin D and all that” she shrugged. “But that’s morning sun rays. Right now it’s 12pm” Haibara complained. Nanami who was walking towards them later asked (Y/N), “Did you drink your meds?” To which she replied by nodding. “That’s good. Come now, it’s lunch time. Probably those three are already there by now” Nanami told them, walking ahead.

Those three. Nanami was referring to their three seniors who are a year above them. Two males and one female, the same as the first year. Personally, she is not really close to them but she’s not on bad terms either. No it’s a lie, (Y/N) is close to Shoko Ieri. Ieri is a neutral force between Suguru Geto and Satoru Gojo, scratch that— when the two fight, she would remove herself and find a place to smoke until both of them stopped choking each other to death. She and Ieri are close due to both being the only female students in school and because Ieri’s care towards (Y/N) being anemic. (y/N) viewed her as an older sister. 

However with the other two. (Y/N) is okay with Suguru Geto. There is nothing wrong about him. Geto was always kind and mature, he helped and guided (Y/N) when both got assigned to missions together once. Suguru once borrowed a hair tie from (Y/N) and always forgot to return it to her but she didn’t mind and would always give her spares when Geto asked. They would talk about Geto’s previous mission and his view of jujutsu sorcerer’s standing in humanity and all kinds of stuff. They have mutual understanding and have been on good terms.

With Satoru Gojo? Heavens Above, she rather not think about it. Come to think of it, her first impression of Gojo wasn’t the pleasant thing that ever happened to her. Compared to Geto and Ieri’s first meeting, two things happened to (Y/N) when she met Gojo for the first time. First, Gojo was overwhelmingly bragging and was so full of himself, he barely took an interest in her when the now Second year trio was assigned to give a tour of the school to the newly first year. But their official meeting was when Gojo ran into her when she had just arrived at school, waiting for Yaga and Geto in the temple. (Y/N) wasn’t religious herself but due to growing up in such conservative family, she sought solace in praying. 

Gojo was stunned to see a new face in Jujutsu High’s temple. Another new kiddo? He thought. Gojo stares at the girl who hasn’t noticed his presence and just watches, hiding behind the tree but nothing can hide Gojo with his height. She noticed an overwhelming amount of curse energy and thought there’s a special grade curse behind her wanting to kill her, it's not the first time (Y/N) was in danger, many wanted her dead, many wanted her blood. But when she looked back and saw Gojo and his otherworldly blue eyes (he forgot his glasses as he was in hurry due to Geto kept spamming call him, Gojo overslept), (Y/N) thought she was pulled in another oblivion, the same feeling when she drank Blood of Kamo chalice. So this is the Six Eyes’ user?

(y/n) did think Gojo came to kill her, but no. They just stand still. Spring wind breeze can be felt on their skin but none of them cared. Till this day, (y/n) still can’t tell what she felt when she stared at those blue eyes. Experiences unrolled before her eyes for a moment. A flash of memory came to her head but she couldn’t tell what that is or whose memory it was. It was like seeing a lecture projection from school projection during class but the image changes quickly and blindingly faster…. So quickly before she can understand what that is. But she felt something else, pain in her chest. She didn’t realize that tears were running down her cheeks but she saw what’s in front of her. 

Tears running down on Satoru Gojo’s eyes as well. 

“You need to stop getting lost in your own thoughts, (Y/N)” Nanami said, pulling (Y/N) back to reality. She chuckled apologetically and replied, “Sorry, Ken. There is something that is kinda bothering me”. Ken, shortened from Kento, Nanami’s first name. Aside from Ieri, Nanami was another person that knows (Y/N)  a bit well (well she tells them what they need to know, not all of it), where (Y/N)  can comfortably talk when she’s in need. Don't think about anything else, (Y/N)  loves and trusts Haibara so much but Haibara is too kind, too pure to listen to (Y/N)’s stories and problems. Poor boy would always try to find a way to make (Y/N)’s  not wrong from her problem and all, he cannot help it, Haibara always sees good in everyone, it’s what he is. Nanami is blunt, honest, straightforward and wise. Because of his bluntness, (Y/N)  needs it. She needs to know an honest input and Nanami has been doing so. They talked a lot to the point, she started calling him Ken, much to his displeasure. “Is it because of the bells?” He asked. Right on point, Ken, she thought. 

(Y/N) looked at Haibara who already walked first, making sure he doesn’t hear any of this, despite how much she hates keeping Haibara in the dark, one day she’ll tell. “That one and another thing. I feel something in me, like something awoke inside me, slowly” she told him. Nanami stopped his walk which made (Y/N) do the same, “What do you mean by that?” He asked. (Y/N) looked the other way, through the window, “Like a monster is waiting for the right to awaken”. Nanami took a step forward to (Y/N) and what Nanami did next shocked her, he patted her. “You worry too much, (Y/N)” he said, looking at her glassy gray eyes as those eyes looked up to him. “Maybe. But still—“

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN THIS THING IS NOT SPICY?!”

“ITS PEPPER, SATORU. NOT FUCKING CHILI POWDER”

“YOUR TASTE BUD IS ATROCIOUS!!!”

“YOUR TONGUE IS WEAK”

“WHAT DID YOU SAY?!”

Nanami later growled In frustration as he heard, (Y/N) smiled in defeat. So we are greeted with this, at lunch?! I thought they went on mission since morning, where have they been? She asked herself. Nanami already walked inside the dining hall. Haibara is trying to calm Geto and Gojo down, Ieri who feeling very unbothered drinking her ocha. Nanami is taking his seat while (Y/N) sat between Haibara and Nanami. Ieri noticed (Y/N) sat in front of and smiled so happily, “Oh thank goodness you’re here”. (Y/N) smiled back and started to stir her soup to make it less hot, it’s what she believed in reducing the heat, “Ieri-Senpai, how’s your day so far?”. Ieri sighed defeatedly and points her finger to the corner of the room, “as you can see, I aged faster as I keep up with their bullshit”. That made (Y/N) laugh at that. Its true, wherever Geto and Gojo argues at anywhere, none of them could stop them except two things, they just end it on their own or……ummm..;;

“CUT IT OUT YOU TWO” 

A sudden loud booming voice comes through…along with two head punches sound, Oh heavens above. “Can you two for once not create war everywhere you go?” Yaga said, crossing his arms and looking down at Geto and Gojo who sit down in defeat. “He started it,” Gojo said, pointing at Geto without looking at Geto directly, only causing Geto to choke Gojo’s neck. “Enough” Yaga said, ending the bickering. Yaga left the two troubled children alone and left the dining hall but stopped his steps as he remembered something, “(Y/N)-kun, your grandfather called, said that you need to accept his calls”. Suddenly, it was like swallowing thousands of pins to her throat when she heard it. 

Female Blood Manipulation Technique Sorcerer is as rare as Six Eyes User. Last record of the female user was four hundred years ago. The Kamo Family put highly of their male descendants but they do celebrate when a female that was also blessed with Blood Manipulation is born. The tradition of Kamo’s Blood of Ancient is not recorded well by the Jujutsu Society as Kamo family kept it hidden. Its mystery is the same as the information of Gojo Family’s Six Eyes. (Y/N)’s grandfather wanted (Y/N) to keep in contact with him and update all of her activities and especially her technique development to her. “Thank you, Masamichi-Sensei '' she said her thanks and slowly ate her food. The others (Nanami, Haibara, and Ieri) can feel (Y/N)’s uneasiness but they hold themselves back as it's obvious that it's not the right time to ask her.

Back to Geto and Gojo, what the fuck they argue about? It’s literally about Miso Soup being too spicy for Gojo. And Geto wasn’t wrong, the soup had chili powder in it because Gojo failed to notice the many spice bottles in front of him and randomly added it to his soup without reading the label. Having had enough of their bickering, (Y/N) swapped her soup that hadn't been added with anything with his. Ieri who noticed shook her head, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you”. (Y/N)  chuckled, “better this way than hearing him complaining about it”. Ieri let it pass as she continued eating while Gojo and Geto went back to their seats, much to their irritation. 

As they continued eating in silence and enjoying the food. (Y/N)’s phone vibrated, all of their attention shifted to the vibrating phone, on the screen written, “kei ♪(´ε｀ )”. (Y/N) choked her drink as she saw the screen, immediately excused herself and answered the call, “what is it, Kei?”. 

(Y/N) walked a bit further from the dining hall so they (Y/N) really hear but it's not that hard as Izumi talked really low in general. Nanami and Haibara continued their doing as usual but the dark haired senior is curious, “who is it? Her boyfriend?”. Haibara laughed as she answered, “No way, if (Y/N)  has a boyfriend, both of us will know. Besides that’s (Y/N)’s friend from middle school”. Geto hummed while Shoko was having a conversation with Haibara. Nanami stayed quiet and Gojo looked at the direction where Izumi went. 

——

“That’s screwed up” (Y/N) commented on the story Kei told her. Apparently Kei’s friend from high school accused her of wanting to steal her boyfriend when Kei herself was being harassed by the boyfriend of her friend. “I know right. God, I really want to pull her hair out. The boyfriend is not even my type” (Y/N) can tell Kei is rolling her eyes, irritation can be heard from her tone. “Though, enough about me. How are things from your side?”

“Nothing ordinary,” (Y/N) replied, leaning into the wooden wall carefully. “It’s actually not bad here”

“I know i said this but everyone surprised you applied to different school than you initiated” 

(Y/N) sighed, “well my grandfather’s insisted, so—“

“Enough about him. What about yourself?”

True. (Y/N) never got the life she really wanted. For years, her grandfather dictated her life, and (Y/N) never faltered and obeyed. But there are times where (Y/N) wished she did this differently. But she was molded into a perfect girl, a perfect woman, a perfect wife material.

(Y/N) is not heir to the Kamo Clan but she's not completely “wasteful”, words that came out from his Grandfather. (Y/N) is beautiful, blessed with black hair and grey eyes, Kamo’s physique and visual trait that has been passed down. She’s elegant and poised. Many call her “Aoko”, Moon Child. She was born when the moon shines the brightest. But the Moon is in a lonely orbit, same how (Y/N) feels in her family. 

“(Y/N), if you wanna run away, say the word and I'll make it happen,” said Kei, trying to cheer (Y/N) up. Kei and (Y/N) have actually been friends since childhood. (Y/N) snuck out from her ancestral home, avoiding a family guest that’ll bore her. She ran into the kids playground and found Kei there. They started playing sandcastles together. Although their playtime was cut short as (Y/N) was found by her grandfather’s bodyguard. But then, they met again in school, and have been close ever since. 

Chuckling at those words, it did touch her heart by how far Kei would do for her, no one has done that length for her. “Thank you, Kei. But I'll stick around a bit” she answered with a smile. 

“Fine, but you know I got your back right?” 

(Y/N) smiles, “i know and likewise, Kei”

As the call ended, she stopped to smile as she remembered to call her grandfather. She went away to find a more secluded place, not wanting to be eavesdropped. 

(Y/N) always wondered what her life is gonna be when she is not who she is currently. (Y/N) has been trying to tell herself that this is not the right life she’s leading on, she’s just her grandfather’s pawn, and how long can she last of just being a pawn, she’ll never know that answer. 

(Y/N) hates that she’s burdened with everything she never wanted in the first place. 

A call with her grandfather is always suffocating. Her grandfather doesn't call and ask how she is and all that. She asked for her progress in school, anything new with her technique, always the same. But now, he asked a new question, “Did you meet him?” 

Him? Ahh Satoru Gojo. “Grandfather, I'm her junior, of course i’d run into him from time to time” she said in annoyance, what is he up to this time?

“I'm just merely asking, my child” he chuckled and exhaled his breath. He knew his granddaughter would be short tempered, so much like himself when he was young. “You guys dont talk..or anything?” he tried to pry again. She cursed in a low voice so that her grandfather’s not hear anything, “we barely have anything in common, grandfather. Please, are you trying to set me up with him?”

He laughed, ah my granddaughter can be so funny. “Come now, I only wanted you to be friends with him. That kid maybe difficult but i'm sure you young folks can sort it out” 

“Unless you’re scheming something, i'm not going to” 

Silence…he is always amazed by his granddaughter’s sharp wits and all, “Oh my sweet child, how can I do such a thing?” 

Irritated, (Y/N) sighed and started to ask another thing but she knew she wouldn't get the answer she wanted, “How’s my mother?”

“That woman is doing fine, (Y/N). Don't divert your focus on something else” as expected. 

“Okay, Grandfather. I have to hang up the phone. I need to train again” (Y/N) stood up again as she was leaning to the side of the wall.

“Alright, (Y/N). Do not push yourself and please…don't be hostile towards Satoru Gojo. Maybe being in good terms with him would be good for you” 

“Good day, Grandfather” she hung up.

——

When (Y/N) walked in the dorm hall and turned left to the stairs, she found Satoru was sitting on the stairs. Looking back and saw (Y/N) stood not far from here, he scooted to the side, though (Y/N) couldn’t pass through due to him sitting in a manspread position (yes, it was actually the truth). “You’re not with Ieri and Getou?” She asked, which shocked him. 

“Oh, Suguru and Shoko went to the convenience store to buy snacks. I think Nanami and Haibara tag along” He replied, and (Y/N) responded with a hum and walked down. 

“Wait,” Satoru hesitated, but now that she looked back at him, he regretted opening his mouth. “I—“

“Yes?” She tilted her head in confusion.

“I ...wanna know your favorite garigari-kun” he said in a hurry so it shocked both himself and her. “You– you know. Like I said, Shoko and everyone else are buying snacks. So i thought to let them know”

Garigari-kun? The popsicle? “Oh the popsicle right?” She stared at him blankly while Satoru was beating himself up inside. “Well..the blue one of course” she answered with a small smile and left him alone.

Satoru, who is a blushing mess, beating his head to the wall. What the fuck was that?! What do you mean, what's your favorite garigari-kun?! Fucking idiot. But Satoru looked back to see how the sun dipped toward the horizon, casting a golden glow across the sky. And he just sighed, titling his head back.

I knew that already. 

—

author’s note :

i finished my thesis weeee, felt a short relief…wait i have to my thesis defense (￣^￣)ゞ

Does anyone know Garigari-Kun Popsicles?? I remembered it well from watching Naruto ages ago and i’ve always wanted it to try lolol

Female reader is inspired by Kuriyama Mirai from Kyokai no Kanata and shes my favorite character for years

The Ofuda and Talisman…I took inspiration from Yuuta and Yuji’s first interaction scene with Gojo. You know the torture room and all

Kannushi,, I believe it's Shinto Head Priest. I looked up the wiki but i'm not so sure as i do not know of how Shintoisme works as i don't practice the religion so if its wrong interpretation and offended it, im deeply sorry 

i'm currently in progress for chapter 2, please be patient as it will be a very slow update 

lastly, thank you for reading, hope you all have a nice day

ALL RIGHTS RESERVES. please do not translate, copy or plagiarize any of my write work.

[fretarot]

Pick a pile their feelings for you!

Please read energy first to see if this is the right pile for you and figure which person you are A or B based on the energy!🥰

Happy reading! Lmk which pile and which person you have picked😙

If you would like to book a personal reading please check my services on my pinned post.

Pile 1 - Apology

Person A - fire ant energy

You might feel in this connection the need to be “cool” and “chilled out” however there’s a fire inside you that’s slowly but surely spreading in your feelings for this person, there’s undeniable love that’s coming to the point you can’t ignore it anymore, you seem to have a sort of childlike personality when it comes to your person and can’t help but feel giggly around them, which at times finding yourself doing so you could be thinking “wth this isn’t me lemme stop” but there’s definitely a call for you to swoon this person, or open up your feelings towards them for once and for all, feeling the need to go all in without a strategic plan at hand, you could be told a lot of times that you do things impulsively and for some people this isn’t their cup of tea, you could’ve grown up being told often to settle down or to “think before you speak!”

A lot of fire energy in this pile , you could have Aries Leo or Sagittarius placements, definitely giving the vibes of “do it now think later”, along with this a little bit of water signs energy came up, person A you could have Fire and Water in your chart/big three.

Person B - Buffalo energy

You usually would like to describe yourself as someone that’s quite grounded, reliable, knowledgeable and i feel your family and friends can vouch this for you as well on this, however recently you could’ve hit a bump on the road where it’s quite hard for you to be as productive as once was, being scared of jumping head first into things and new challenges due to the anxiety of things splurging out of control or going through another tower moment unexpectedly, in turn found a routine, you’ve been sticking to it and even though it might seem quite too repetitive for you, it is your safe haven, it’s where you know what to expect, at times might even find yourself not as sociable either, feeling like you can’t give out to someone else right now when barely being able to give yourself the experience and fun you deserve, there’s the energy of exhaustion here.

A lot of Earth energy here Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn with a little bit of fire. These could be present in your placements.

Fire ants feelings towards person B

In your feelings currently and how you see your connection, you could be seeing them as someone that you want to rile up or start a conflict with them to at least get something out of them, to see what limits you could push until they open up more , person A I can tell you’re feeling left out by your person, feeling that you’re not being heard about certain things or that they’re way too nonchalant for you, feeling at times that they’re like a robot, just doing the bare minimum not only for this connection but in their life as well, doing just enough, being on a strict routine of a eat, sleep, work or school and repeat and this is something that could be out of your normal usually or you could be the type of person that’s more open but feeling the need to be restrictive in case you chase them away if you push too much.

How person B ( Buffalo) feels towards their person - you feel yourself drifting away from your person, and not only just them but to others too, and finding solitude in isolation, finding being at peace is being by yourself and learning how to love yourself, I do see you putting a lot of work into yourself which is progressing into the right direction, however when it comes to your person you feel that perhaps they don’t understand why you can’t just “snap” out of this rut, as it requires intensive inner work, but at the same time you understand you shouldn’t leave everyone in the dark making you feel more guilty, worried it’ll cause arguments or conflicts or being forced to be something you can’t be right now and neither are truly.

Overall for both -

I do see person B coming towards person A with some sort of explanation with why they drifted away and for some of you they even went ghost, Person A I promise you will get the apology that you’re eager for, Person A it’s time to let Person B know how you feel about them, I feel they do need that boost from you, try to let them know the struggles you have also previously gone through and try to let them know that there is a lending hand when they need it as they feel they’ll bother you by coming clean of their situation, ultimately I see you both coming to a understanding of how each of you can contribute towards each others needs but it will take some time, that’s a factor here, but working slowly will get everything on track.

Pile 2- self love

Person A- Nightingale energy

Person A you as the energy of nightingale, you usually are someone that usually can be upfront, not being afraid of speaking up, telling people what’s on your mind when it’s in the right times and even when it can be at the most wrongful times 😅, but there is something about your voice that makes people listen, either you can be someone that’s very convincing/ persuasive, you could even be one to sing and others love to hear it, you are giving the energy of someone that doesn’t usually stand out or you might feel it so, but people are attracted towards you either way, you could’ve been told before you have this alluring energy about yourself.

Person B - Energy of the stingray

Person B, coming up as the energy of the stingray you are someone that usually likes to take on a challenge, you can be eager around wanting to grow and very adaptable to your environment and schedules, however you’ve been stuck in your ego recently and I know , I know I don’t want to call you out but I have to, your using your ego to protect yourself, perhaps you feel that you have put in a lot of word in yourself prior and now you don’t feel the need to change all over again to make someone else happy, and that’s all within your rights, but there’s w need for you to escape from the mental trap you have put yourself in, the external is not as bad as your mind is playing it to be, and it’s okay to come back to reality.

Persons A feelings towards person B

You could’ve started off as friends with person B, starting things slowly and then all of a sudden coming to surprise that the both of you have been hiding feelings this whole time, there’s an unexpected energy here between the two of you, this could’ve come from you being shocked that the two of you even ended up together, but I’m also seeing a state of shock around some kind of ending when it comes to the two of you, for a big part of pile 2 and person A I would be surprised if you haven’t lost Person B and are currently going through a breakup or no contact, person A seems to feel a lot of regret and pain when it comes to their person , and they feel guilt around something here, Person A could’ve been the one that possibly walked away from Person B but that won’t be for everyone of this pile, reverse it as it resonates, but heavy energy around Person A walking away from something here and not being sure if that was the best decision to make, there’s a stagnant energy around Person A where they can’t move forwards from a person B but at the same time it doesn’t look like they want to, they would’ve rather work things out than have to come to that for some of you if you are person A I can definitely tell that you didn’t want to have it come to that.

How person B feels towards Person A

Person B is coming up as someone that’s very stuck mentally, emotionally quite unstable when it comes to their feelings for A, they currently don’t feel comfortable being around Person A due to not feeling like themselves unfortunately around Person A, they feel that the both of you have changed tremendously since the two of you have known each other and they’re not sure on how to fix things, they’re currently focusing on self care and loving on themselves, and it seems that as off right now they feel the need of taking a step back from this connection and bring distance into it.

Overall energy- it looks like the both of you will be prioritising your own selves at this time, and quite significantly unfortunately drifting away from each other, trying to build routines and growth separately.

Pile 3- Justice

Person A - golden egg energy

Person A is giving the energy of an old friend, someone that you have known for a very long time, and you find comfort in them, either this is you to and for person B or you have been told often that you give off a sense of familiarity to everyone you meet, you bring a sense of comfort and quietness, you could yourself person A be quite a timid person or someone that doesn’t usually budge into peoples business or you wait for others to talk to you first before you approach anyone, you are definitely someone that has a lot of layers to themselves and it takes a lot for you to “crack”😅 or open up to others, you can only be who you truly are around the ones you love most and that’s when you find it easiest to let loose.

Libra energy, water energy, you could have these in your placements.

Person B - Snake energy

Person B you are someone that could at times be described as someone that’s creative, ambitious perhaps you work in a creative role, such as art, landscape, architecture, design, etc, perhaps you are someone that finds themselves expressing themselves through actions rather than their words or perhaps writing it down, or poetry, you could be someone that has a lot of passion and love towards someone but when it comes to voicing it, you could be finding it hard and choose other ways to show them rather by talking, at times out of balance you might find yourself being quite a flighty person, showing up and going as you please, starting out new things but never finishing them before you start something new.

Earth energy for Person B, along with water.

How person A feels towards person b

Person A - there’s a lot of emotion from them when it comes to person B, almost like they see Person B the snake for who they truly are and not who they try to show the world, person A is definitely the one that notices all the small things about person B such as how they act when they are nervous or how they’ll perhaps blink Weirdly when uncomfortable, very little things that at times person B never even noticed, Person A is definitely giving provider type of vibes towards B and they look out for them alot, even though at times they don’t fully feel this being reciprocated, either way they feel balanced in this connection.

How person B feels towards person A

The snake person B is a charmerrr, they know how to work in ways to surprise person A, and they feel the need of wanting to try new things to come out with, there is definitely heavy feelings between the both of these energies, which are very equal and person B really feels in Union with person A at times, they even feel like they’re looking at a mirror when they see Person A, the snake energy wants to come through and show person A new opportunities, new adventures and they are also very logical they go about things, they feel the need to have everything ready and Perfect around them, the snake person sees the golden egg as someone that will always have a soft space in their heart and has plans on keeping it that way if they can.

Overall energy for both - you both feel like this is a match made in heaven, and both are mirroring each other in ways you thought could never be possible, this connection is very promising, you both balance each other amazingly.

[rewritingcanon]

If you don’t mind me asking? why do you believe that Slytherin is a terrible house? Draco was an asshole and some of the other Slytherins(Crabbe, Goyle). although throughout the entire series the golden trio were practically bullies to most Slytherins for no reason(more so in the books)? Slytherins at hogwarts were usually mistreated due to their reputation of producing dark wizards, as if Ravenclaw doesn’t have almost just as much 🙏 plus how biased the entire school facility were with Slytherins, honestly i wouldn’t expect Slytherins to act the best when the whole schools against them.

And Slytherins being bullied or mistreated isn’t a new thing, especially by Gryffindors(Ex; Golden trio, marauders, fantastic beasts).

And whats your take on Ron? i’m a bit meh on him, as he was a good friend although i still can’t forget or excuse him

-Bullying first years

-Abusing his Prefect status

-Almost calling Ginny a slut

-abusing Crookshanks

kinda confused a bit because i don’t remember ever calling slytherin a terrible house lol. i’ve said that slytherin was written with the mind to make it a bad house, with all its characters being pretty morally bleak. hp is not supposed to be very morally complex, all the work in that is mostly credited to fandom.

as readers, we’re positioned to sympathise with the golden trio being mean to slytherin characters more because they have the moral leverage of not being blood purists or terrorists. maybe harry had no reason to go after them at first, but hermione definitely had as a muggleborn, and ron was constantly getting slandered for either being poor or a blood traitor. granted, this was all mostly from draco. the other slytherins are one-dimensional characters who serve as his lackeys, there’s not one that’s properly fleshed out except maybe severus snape and even that’s iffy for a lot of fans.

yes, ravenclaws did have death eaters, but not to the same extent that slytherin was producing them. most death eater characters have unconfirmed houses, the only ravenclaw we actually know to be a death eater is quirrel and thats it. so they’re actually tying with the amount of death eaters gryffindor produces (pettigrew), not slytherin. everyone else— lestranges, blacks, malfoys, crabbes, snape etc— are slytherins. this is unsurprising as salazar slytherin literally wanted to gatekeep his house from progressive and inclusive ideals.

i have many gripes with the oppressive world jkr has written— i don’t think she understands how oppression operates because i agree with what you say about most of the hogwarts staff treating the slytherins like shit. in reality, the ones who are oppressed should be the ones discriminated against, but in the hpverse you see the oppressors getting treated badly. im not saying i think slytherins should be presented as the oppressed, its just horrid writing on her part.

i really like ron, i think he’s a really well fleshed-out character with realistic flaws and a good arc. i cant remember when he bullied first years and i don’t remember him abusing his prefect status in any extremely terrible way that would lower my opinion of him. i do remember him almost slut-shaming ginny, and though i think it was terrible of him i also think it was a realistic thing to say from an older brother to a younger sister in the 90s. i have a younger brother and you should clock some of the arguments we’ve had over the years in the 2020s. it’s within the same vein. ginny was pressing on ron’s sore spots as little siblings do, and ron was attempting to compensate by biting back in any way he could. it was realistic to me. and its been a while since i read the books but ron bitching about crookshanks read as comedic. granted, i was like 11 years old when i read them, but i remember thinking it was justified because to ron, crookshanks was literally trying to kill his pet. he’s not going to be chill around something thats tried to eat his rat multiple times. when someone is attacking your pet, you get scared and angry and try to fight back in defence of your pet because you want to deter that animal from trying anything like that again. they obviously can’t understand you if you simply lecture them. i once had to do something similar (i did not physically fight anything though LOL) when i got a new cat, and our neighbour’s cat would constantly attack and injure him every time we let him outside. and that was a cat v cat, this is a little mouse versus crookshanks 😭😭

[tbzhours]

just a little break

eric x you, established relationship, college au, art student au, fluff

[summary] eric decides to come see you despite you both being busy with your work [words] 1.5k

The first half of your last year at your university was coming to an end and that means projects were in progress to completion. Eric understood that, knowing that you both would not be able to see each other as much for a while. 

As he was resting on his couch, staring at the beautiful background of you on his phone screen, his finger caressed your cheek. He smiled softly before pressing the messages icon to send you another text of “i miss yous” and reminders about taking care of yourself. 

He himself was busy too, especially with making music with his friends. This week seemed chilled as they have completed their songs and were waiting for approval to release them. His schedule was flexible, so flexible that one of them, Sunwoo, came into the living room and saw Eric on his phone. He shook his head and snickered at him. 

“You’re like this every single morning.” Eric peeked over his phone and saw Sunwoo crossing his arms. He gave him a weird look as Sunwoo continued, “You should seriously make lunch or go visit your partner in crime.” 

Partner in crime, Eric loved that title. You both usually don’t do “bad” things together (other than taking cookies from the store despite it being for kids under 12; “We’re all humans!” He would say even though he ended up buying a package of cookies after.) but when it’s time to get your shit together, you both get serious just like you were now. 

Eric wondered about if he would be a bother if he were to visit you right now. He always wondered that because morning and night texts were always a part of your daily routine since this academic year started. Even watching a movie on Friday nights at his apartment was a weekly thing, but those were so practical that he wanted to do something more than that; something more meaningful to show that he cares and loves you. 

He then got up from the couch and hugged Sunwoo out of love. 

“Thanks, Sunwoo. I’ll be back in a bit.” Eric smiled widely when he pulled back. 

As Eric walked away, Sunwoo stood there in shock. “What? So you’re not going to make lunch?” 

Art makes you feel alive. The history and the inquiry of it, you just love how tangible the tools you use were to make such beautiful pieces. It was as if your hands were magic, sprinkling invisible glitter against the white papers of your wooden easel. 

You were working on the last piece of work for your final portfolio of the semester in your personal art studio at your university. You felt so relieved to have everything done one week before they’re due. The last thing for this semester to feel complete was to see Eric. You couldn’t wait to see him soon. 

You had looked at your phone and replied to his texts before you mixed your paint to put your magic hands to work. If you were to choose the process that you loved the most, it would be the painting of the sketches you made. It makes your artwork come alive. Thinking of Eric right at that moment, you realized he had never seen your progress and rather, only your finishing touches of your work. One reason was that your hands were too dirty to take a picture and another was that Eric might distract you. 

That thought made you laugh and you continued to focus on your final piece as Eric was looking around in the hall to find your studio. With some cold drinks in a bag in his hand, he finally spotted you hidden in a small artsy room. His smile beamed against the window of your door with your back facing him. He couldn’t wait to tell how confused he was getting around your university. He didn’t realize then that he was admiring your focused figure, watching your every move against that artwork. 

Eric would call it beautiful. He could see the passion in each touch you made. It wasn’t a coincidence for the sun to be setting in your studio, making the place turn into a sunset orange. There was warmth in his eyes as they waited to meet yours when he knocked on the door. 

You turned your head around, your arms up at your side from getting your clothes wet from all of the paint. As shocked as you were, your eyes grew. 

“Eric? How did you find me?” You asked as he closed the door and walked over to you. It was a first that he’d ever visited you in your studio. You noticed the drinks in his hand as they reflected light to you from the sunlight, making you feel relaxed as you were now. Your heart was jumping to see him in this room full of your artwork, some of him that you never showed before. 

“I asked around.” Eric laughed after taking a seat beside you, which made you giggle. “I almost got lost coming here.” 

“You should have told me that you were coming. Now I’m all dirty up to even enjoy whatever you bought for me.” You frowned and showed him your painted hands. 

“That’s okay. I can help you drink.” Eric’s nose wrinkled close at you, his hands pulling you to him by the shoulder and you giggled again. 

“Why are you here?” You asked when you both moved back. You were still frowning but with a hard smile. It was like he could read your mind that you wanted to see him despite the timing being a little off with your painted hands. 

“You know the answer.” Eric replied, hoping you were reminded of his texts. “It’s because I miss you.” 

His voice lingered in your ears. You wished you could hear it a million times as you smiled so heartily, you almost cried. You whispered back, “I miss you too.” 

Eric’s lips beamed widely, his hand reaching to your hair to scribble them, knowing that you won’t be able to reject it from your painted hands. “You’re working a little too hard, I see. To even hear you say that with such love, I’ll gladly open this can for you.” 

Eric grabbed a bottle of your favorite drink and opened it. You laughed and watched his face glow in the sun. “Seriously, I can do that myself.” 

“No, this masterpiece needs you right now.” Eric’s hand pointed to the half-painted artwork beside you. “Here?” He moved the can to your face and you let your lips touch the tip of it in defeat. 

“Thanks. Now it feels a little more refreshing.” You confessed after sighing in relief. 

“When did you start feeling refreshed?” He asked, drinking your can afterwards. 

“Right when you came into this room.” You smiled cunningly and he laughed. You could tell he was embarrassed when he looked away with it. The artwork around the room caught his eyes and when he looked back at you, your eyes were locked together. 

“Why don’t you show me around the room? I can’t believe I’ve never been here before.” 

“Wait a second.” You demanded and stared at his confused face. Within a second, he leaned in and pecked your lips. You felt his eyes looking down at you when he left your lips with the sun reflecting against his face. Your eyes widened again, “Why did you do that?” 

“I should be asking you that. Why were you staring at me?” He asked as his cheeks started to turn red. 

“I just wanted to take a good look at you because I haven’t seen you for a while.” Your feet swung timidly. You didn’t realize he was distracting you again from doing your work. You shook your head and pointed a finger up in the air. “Wait, I need to get this done.” 

“Okay. I miss you but I can watch you finish your work.” Eric sunk on his seat, getting excited to see you paint in real time. 

“Just don’t say a word or you become the artwork.” You joked and playfully left paint on his nose after touching the paint pad on your side when you were going to get back to work. He gasped loudly and you shrugged with that cunning look again, “What?” 

“I am not going to chase you in this room but if I have to, I will.” Eric declared, challenging you.

You both ended up cleaning yourselves up after a little chase in that room. You thought your final artwork could wait another day because Eric was such a distraction. You didn’t mind though. Besides, who would have thought feeling complete this early would be a bad idea? Taking a small risk would just make everything a little better if it were to be with the one you love the most. 

[3minsover]

AUgust Day 26:

(for the magnificent @resande’s birthday!!)

it takes almost a year after vecna for it all to catch up to steve. he held it together after swinging a nailed baseball bat at unholy abominations; got past the girl he loved telling him he was simply ‘bullshit’; he dragged himself through nightmares of needles in his skin and the crack of fists against his face; he even shoved down memories of tendrils wrapping and tugging, teeth ripping, blood seeping; tried to forget how the blaze of victory had rotted in his mouth upon seeing max’s little body all mangled and broken. steve got through it. had to. he couldn’t just fall apart, not when so many people needed him.

but now the gates are closed, he’s opened himself up to a new kind of love he hadn’t thought possible - both the soul-deep love he has for robin, and the sweet, as yet untasted adoration he has for eddie. neither has said anything yet, but from gentle touches and lingering gazes, steve thinks they both know. thinks it’s only a matter of time before what ifs become what is. and on top of that, the russians are a thing of the past, vecna’s gone, and max’s physical therapy is progressing in leaps and bounds. everything is fine. the party don’t need steve to be strong for them anymore, and that hits him one overcast, non-descript february evening in ‘87.

steve returns home from grocery shopping in preparation for a hangout with the older teens in an hour or so, and, like the stubborn mule he is, attempts to carry all three bags at once. inevitably, as he’s attempting to shove the car door closed with his hip, one of the bags tips. apples roll out first, a whole carton of eggs lands with a splat and a crunch on the concrete; the whole thing upends at steve’s feet. he lets out a frustrated, self-berating huff, snarls a little with it, and feels a distant sharpness building somewhere deep in his chest. he manages to keep it under control, keep it quelled as he sinks to his knees and attempts to scoop up the dropped groceries. steve can’t quite manage his breathing, though. it’s coming too fast, faster than his lungs can manage, and his skin feels too tight for his bones.

that’s when the first raindrops fall.

they’re fat, and cold, and harsh. they smack into the sturdy paper bags and stain them deeper brown in inch-wide splotches, pierce steve’s hands like needles and oh god, oh fuck, no please, please, scoops ahoy, i work for scoops ahoy. the scarf that’s wrapped around his neck is too tight, it’s pulling it’s constricting it’s cutting off his air and he’s getting drenched, he’s all wet and he can’t breathe. there doesn’t have to be a glowing gate beneath him for steve to panic. he tries to ground himself, digging his fingertips into his jean-clad thighs, but

the material’s too thick. there’s mess all around him, a broken jar of pasta sauce spraying red over the driveway, and steve doesn’t know how to clean it up. he doesn’t know how to fix this. he’s fixed so much else, fought through so much else, but this, this is too much.

tears spring to his eyes hot and itchy, and he doesn’t even have to blink for them to spill over his lash line. he claws at the scarf, yanks it off to free his throat, and sobs. the neck of his sweater is still too tight, and he drags that off himself too, leaving steve in only a t-shirt against the february chill, and sobs. he curls in on himself, hugging his arms and rocking, and sobs. makes ugly, broken, animal noises, snot streaming from his nose, his hearing is muffled, legs numb. he can’t form one coherent thought, overtaken by wracking, heaving sobs and desolate, hopeless cries. he collapses down onto his side on the cold driveway, wishes he’ll continue sinking into the ground and disappear entirely, and screams into his folded arms; it mutes the sound enough that no semi-distant neighbors can hear. the release of it feels like a purge, like he’s confessing sin after sin, and so he keeps going, screams and sobs, begins shivering violently against the ground, but he doesn’t stop until his voice cracks and his throat is torn up and dry despite the puddles forming around him. and when he can scream no more, steve simply cries. like a child. endless and hopeless, abandoned, until-

“steve? christ, stevie, oh my god.” steve knows that voice. he hadn’t heard the van arrive through his ringing ears, but now that panicked, shaking voice cuts through everything. footsteps grow quickly closer, but steve still hides within the rain-chilled prison of his arms. “hey, hey are you hurt? what happened?” desperate hands skate over his side, his shoulders, his hair, and steve wants to give in to them. wants eddie to hold him until it’s all okay again. but he can’t ask for that.

to his surprise, he doesn’t need to.

“okay i can’t see blood or anything so i’m just gonna-” eddie’s knees shift next to steve, and his hands scoop around his shoulders, digging in as eddie lifts him from the ground, but it’s a good discomfort, it’s welcome. steve whimpers, arms jostled away from his face as eddie folds him against his chest, tight and protective. “you’re okay stevie. you’re okay, i got you. you’re safe,” eddie mumbles into steve’s sodden hair, and it brings a fresh sob surging from his chest. he clings to eddie’s now-soaked shirt, head pounding, body aching and chilled to the bone.

“i’m sorry. you’re all wet,” steve sniffles into eddie’s neck, against the point where his blood rushes too fast. eddie barks a surprised laugh and clutches him tighter, shifts him closer.

“don’t you dare. don’t you apologize to me sweet boy, i’d let myself get soaked, let myself drown for you any day. course i would. no hesitation.” steve’s breath hitches, and this time it’s not from the sobbing. he hopes he’ll remember that, for later, so that he can tell

eddie he’d do the same for him in a heartbeat. eddie breathes out relieved, nervous laugh. “i’m just glad you’re conscious and responsive and shit. but baby, we gotta get you inside. gotta get you warm, okay? let me help you, please.” the softness in eddie’s voice warms steve from the inside, prickles at the streams of rainwater that slip over steve’s cheeks, that flatten the hairs on eddie’s arms wrapped around him. he nods against eddie’s neck, then pulls back to look at him. eddie’s still so beautiful, even soaked from the rain.

and yeah, steve will let him help. after all this time, maybe it’s steve’s turn to let someone help him, perhaps take care of him, even. maybe that someone should be the person he loves, and maybe, once he’s back to himself a little more, maybe steve should tell him that.

[anyalovesu]

tolerate it.

xi. drawing hearts in the byline.

—“i had to watch him sleep. i was afraid if i woke up i would have to endure the life long pain of losing the person i loved the most just days before i learned how to accept it. i couldn’t do it. i was so mad at him for letting himself be in that kind of situation.”

Two days passed by slowly and painfully. Though her brother and Leon called regularly, it did not come close to suffice the emptiness that she felt. It did not even come remotely close to the feeling of just having them around.

The office was unusually quiet without Santi and Yves arguing about something, so the past two days just felt odd. There was a pit in her stomach and a chilling feeling that was bothering her. Eli was half sure Ynes could feel it too by the way they kept on glancing at each other. The both of them were anticipating something to go awry but could not pinpoint exactly what it was.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Eli and Ynes rushed to pick up the telephone by their office door, but Eli manages to beat her to it, receiving the call herself.

Ynes witnessed how her bestfriend’s face fell, the more the story progressed. Judging by the way she just started sobbing quietly was enough for her  to confirm that something DID go awry, and it’s not good.

“Babes, anong nangyari?” Ynes was beginning to panic as well when Eli fell to her knees as soon as she drops the call. “Elijah Yang, magsalita ka naman! Sino ang tumawag? Bakit ka umiiyak?”

“It’s Kuya Yves,” Ynes could feel her heart drop to her stomach at the sound of her brother’s name falling out of her best friend’s lips. “Nasaksak raw si Kuya Santi at Leon,” she choked out, voice shaky as Ynes held her tight.

Elijah’s head was once again malfunctioning, unable to form any coherent thoughts as soon as she was contacted by Soren Yang that their flight is already fixed and they’re headed to Cebu in 3 hours. But 3 hours is still too long. The thought that the lives of the two of her most prized people are at stake and she is 500 miles away from them made her mind go haywire. 

What if Yves Hwang lied and none of them are actually okay? What if Kuya Santi is fighting for his life right now and Leon is in critical condition?

Eli’s foot tapped on the van’s floor as they were on their way to the airport. This time, not even Ynes or Cielo could manage to calm her down. 

It was all just so unfair. Just when she thought she was slowly adjusting and becoming alright, life will find a way to scare her out of it. It would be so much easier to just watch Leon walk away again, but his life being at risk this time—him being at a real risk that she will never get to see her again terrifies the living shit out of her. And the mere fact that her brother, her first and number 1 source of support, is also in the same situation makes things even worse.

“I swear to God, if something bad happens to Santiago, I will break Alejandro Sim’s neck in two,” Soren Yang was fuming in anger, his protective side jumping out as soon as Yves Hwang confirms to them that the culprits have admitted that they were working for Alejandro Sim, the patriarch of the Sim Clan.

The same family that had accepted her for the past years… has done this to her brother and Leon?

“How the hell is Alejandro Sim involved in this?” Elijah spats, feeling the same anger rushing through her father run through her as well. “Dad? Pa? Anong hindi n’yo pa sinasabi sa akin?”

“Not now, Eli, andito si Cielo–”

“For fuck’s sake Dad! Hindi lang naman si Cielo at si Kuya ang anak n’yo! Anak n’yo rin ako!”

“You want to know what happened, ha? Ruby Elijah?” Soren’s voice filled the van that even Genevieve Hwang was rendered unable to speak. But Eli, being the clone of Soren Yang in almost every aspect they could think of, did not back down. If it’s going to hurt her to know the truth, then be it.

“Tell me,” she bravely replies, standing her ground, tired of the bullshit she has been putting up since the entire engagement was announced. She didn’t understand why so much was being kept away from things that she should know. And so this might be the only chance she’ll get to hear the truth, unfiltered from her own parents.

“Alejandro Sim has been playing puppets with you since Leon made his mistake four years ago. Noong nalaman n’ya na nagkakamabutihan na kayo ng apo n’ya ay nagsimula na s’yang mag obsess over the fact that they could be the ones merging with our family instead of the Parks. He’s been forcing Isaac to stay with you for the money. We figured you would know what to do when you find out on your own, pero parang wala kang plano na malaman kung ano ba talaga ang pakay ng pamilya ni Sim sa’yo.” Soren Yang did not hold back, though he refused to look at Elijah out of fear that his heart would break at the face of Eli finding out the whole truth. He hasn’t been the best father to her, he was well aware of that, but the sight of his only daughter’s heart breaking would’ve been too much. He had a son whose life is at stake right now, it wasn’t the right time for him to falter. 

“Yes, we caused the drift sa mga relasyon n’yo ni Leon before the engagement, but just so you know, it did not take a lot for your boyfriend to crack under pressure. As soon as he heard na alam namin na he has been sleeping with his co-intern sa hospital ay bumigay at pumayag na s’ya. He knows we could ruin his medical career kapag nalaman mo na niloloko ka na n’ya, which he has been for so long mula pa noong naging sunod-sunuran s’ya sa lolo n’ya. We could take him off the program and blacklist him practically everywhere even outside the country and his family could do nothing about it dahil pagmamay-ari ng mga Yoon ang hospital at ang medical school na pinasukan n’ya. That kid has no shame really. He had the nerve to cheat on my daughter inside the same institution that my grandparents built. I can ruin his life if I wanted to, Elijah. But I did not want to break your heart even more than I already did dahil alam ko kung gaano mo kamahal ang tarantado na ‘yon.”

Soren Yang has always been calculated. His every move, every word was always planned and he knows how it is going to affect other people. He knew he did what he did to minimize his daughters pain and he will never be regretful of that.

Elijah could only sit there in silence. Isaac. What she thought was her saving grace was toying her all along.

Isaac.

Her Isa.

“Now that you already know what really is happening, I’m leaving the last word to you, Ruby. Sabihin mo lang and I will do whatever your heart pleases.”

Elijah should know better than to make decisions when she’s at the height of her emotions but feeling that much anger and resentment towards a person was all to foreign to her. She had given all her heart and soul to Isaac for the past four years and that’s how it has been? Even going as far as cheating on her and making up things about how he had to let her go?

Elijah wanted nothing more than to make him suffer for the rest of his life, show him just how much he’s fucked up. He’s damn lucky there’s better things for Eli to worry about.

“Making Alejandro Sim go to hell is something I never wanted to do until now,” Eli replied to Soren, surprisingly in a calm manner. But the cold calm sound of her voice was enough to send chills to both of her parents’ spine. 

Eli has always been the soft Yang, as most would tell. Ang Yang na hindi marunong lumaban. Even Ynes can testify to that. More than many times, Elijah allowed people to push her over. She came from a long line of businessmen and people in the construction industry, who grew to be cunning and sharp—many believed Elijah was not like that. Admittedly Soren Yang thought so too, after he watched her daughter let her get played by the Sims.

Not until now.

No one is completely certain how far Elijah will take this, not even her own parents. Getting cheated on, getting played, now with Leon and Santi getting stabbed under their word? The woman could only take so much. 

—

“Bobo ka talaga, Kuya!” That was the first thing that came out of Ynes’ mouth as soon as they reached the hospital before reaching for Yves’ hand, examining how bad his injuries were. “Tanga tanga! Nasan sila Kuya Santi?”

“Nagpapahinga. Natutulog yata sila ngayon, sinasalinan ng dugo si Leon,” He explained. “Nakapagdonate naman agad si Tobi, so okay na. Nagpapahinga nalang.”

It was as if Elijah felt her blood drained out of her at that very moment that she heard what Yves had said. The way Bianca reacted wasn’t any different, clinging to Elijah’s arm while Cielo clung on the other. 

“Sabi ko kasi magingat kayo!” Elijah snaps at them as soon as they find them awake, even finding the nerve to laugh at something when she enters the room. “Ano? Sabi ko mag-ingat tapos magpapasaksak kayong dalawa? Ikaw mambubugbog pa?”

It was a surprise that Tobias wasn’t harmed as much as the other three considering his own history of basag ulo during their highschool days. But he then explained that unlike Yves and her own brother, his first instinct was to rush to aid his injured brothers, which honestly would’ve been the safer option unlike how her brother handled it.

“Galit na galit, oo,” Santi shrugged, carefully opening his arms to reach for his little sister. “Malayo naman sa bituka.”

“Sa may atay ka ngang nasaksak na tanga ka, ha!” she retorts at him, playfully hitting the top of his head just for the sake of telling him how upset she was because of his impulsive decision.

“That’s your best friend they messed with, Ellie,” he sighed, shaking his head as he glanced towards Leon’s figure on the next bed, talking to his little sister and Cielo. “Hindi naman ako papayag na ganoon na lang ‘yon.”

“Oh tapos nasaksak ka rin,” Elijah rolled his eyes at him, knowing too well that he meant well. The Yangs really did have a knack for acting on impulse, the two of them were living proof of that.

“What is going to happen with Isaac now?” he asked, the question seemed to gain everyone’s attention. He sighed, looking ever so guilty for bringing it up.

“He would be a fool to think he’ll get away with cheating on a Yang, kuya,” Eli hummed at her older brother. “Messing with two Yangs is a bold move. Him and his grandfather will get the message, Papa and I will make sure of that. Alright? Don’t worry about it.”

“You’re not going to go crazy again—”

“You went after an armed man, kuya. You’re not in a good position to tell me not to do stupid shit. And it’s not stupid if it means na malalaman nila kung sino ang akala nilang binibilog nila.”

“Ellie.”

“Papa has my back, kuya,” she smiled at him, squeezing his hand to assure her older brother that everything will be alright before she moved to the other bed where Leon was.

“Hi stupid,” Elijah sighed at him, trying to make the situation lighter than it really was. Leon looked tired as his eyes trailed on the tear stains on Elijah’s puffy face from all the crying she’s done the entire trip to Cebu out of anxiety on how they were doing.

Leon’s hand carefully reaches up to her face and wipes the remaining tears that were there. “Hi baby,” he chuckled. “Kiss?”

Elijah could not help but flick his forehead at his response. “Talaga ba? May tahi ka na nga sa tagiliran, kiss pa rin ang gusto mo ha? Nakakagalit ka Leon Abel ha!”

“You have no idea half the shit I went through thinking kung buhay ka pa ba tapos that’s all? Kiss lang, Leon? Gusto mo bang dagdagan ko ang saksak mo sa tagiliran ha?”

“Kiss lang eh,” he pouted. “Nasaksak na nga wala pang kiss!”

It baffled Elijah that after all that, he’s just asking for a kiss like it would fix everything—like it was going to make her back out from sending Sim Inc. into bankruptcy and exposing Isaac for his infidelity. Before Elijah knew it, tears were already falling down her face again before she leans down and kisses his forehead before pressing another one on his lips. 

“Tangina mo, akala ko mamamatay ka na!” She cried, leaning against his shoulder as soon as she pulled away. “Tangina mo talaga. I thought I was going to lose you again, Leon. Akala ko mawawala na kayo ni Kuya sa akin. I swear to God.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” he sighed heavily, placing a light hand on the top of her head, carefully running his fingers through her hair. “Dapat nag-ingat kami ni Kuya Santi.”

“Paano kung wala si Kuya Tobi ha? Paano kung walang magdo-donate sa’yo ng dugo agad?” She kept on babbling worst case scenarios, which broke his heart to hear. 

It was that bad for her to think of. Leon thought to himself. 

“We’re okay, baby,” he mumbled against her hair, kissing the side of her head repeatedly. “Tahan na po. I’m sorry hindi kami nagingat ni kuya.”

“Don’t leave me again, Leon,” Eli sobbed on his shoulder like a child, recalling how she heard the news from Yves earlier that day and how she’s here now, assured that she’s not losing anyone.

“They’re gonna have to do better than that to kill me, Ellie,” he joked. “Which we’re not going to allow to happen again, right? Tahan ka na. Okay na kami ni Kuya. Okay na.”

Eli did not sleep that night. She managed to watch Leon sleep all night, making sure that he was breathing, afraid that he would stop if she slept even for a minute. Her heart raced at the thought of losing him, so as much as she wanted to rest, her brain would not let her, pestering her with thoughts that Leon would not wake up if she slept. So she kept both eyes open all night.

All that concerned Leon. Her medication normally made her sleepy, knowing that she was able to fight off the drowsiness means that something big really was bothering her and not to sound cocky but he knew he was the one she was thinking about. It made him guilty actually that Eli was losing sleep because of him.

“Hey, it’s okay, baby, you can sleep,” Leon cooed as he pulled her head closer to his shoulder. “It’s alright. Gigisingin kita kapag malapit na tayo, okay?”

Eli looked at him, still refusing to give in to his false belief but Leon was persistent, “sige na, wag ka na munang matigas ang ulo, Eli.”

“Later na,” she mumbled, but still moved to rest her head on his shoulder, careful not to make him move him too much. “Pag nasa hotel na ako tutulog. Malapit na rin naman.”

Aside from the fact that Soren Yang came from the founders of one of the most successful and world renowned medical institutions, he also came from a long line of successful hoteliers in the world and is now sitting in position as the CEO of Yoon Hotels Corp. So it didn’t take a lot of negotiation for them to find a hotel that will safeguard their family for the time being that the three are at risk for flying back to Manila.

Realizing that made Leon sit there in awe at really how much pressure Eli has been carrying from the moment she was born after seeing how successful all her family members have been. It’s a blur at how much their families wanted to make sure they married before the construction of that damn hotel was started, when they all know that the Yoons’ and the Yangs’ money could damn well build that hotel from the ground up without so much as help from the Parks. Both of the Yoon siblings are either waiting on the retirement of their parents or are now in position as the rightful owners, with Soren Yang, the oldest, being the CEO of Yoon Hotels Corp and Philomena Yoon waiting on the retirement of her mother before she steps into place for Valiente Medical. Elizalde Yang, on the other hand, is just waiting for his father to retire and he will be stepping into position as the Yang Group Co.’s CEO and well, Santiago Yang will be stepping in for the position that he will be leaving. 

Unlike him, his grandparents have built their company from scratch and are fairly new if compared to the legacy that both sides of Elijah’s family have left. Eli has always been required to be great. Always has to be good and present herself as someone fully capable of rising to her family’s greatness. Half of his struggles of being trained to step in for his father was probably not even half of the shit that Eli has to go through, and all that without that assurance that she will even inherit any of the companies that her parents are running. It really must’ve been cruel to wonder what she had done wrong to always be replaced after all the hard work she has done to present herself so perfectly all the time.

Leon managed to get Eli to sleep once they got to the hotel after making a promise that he wouldn’t die while she was asleep.

It was as peaceful as Leon remembers, Eli sleeping while he held her. The past three nights were as miserable as he remembers, he couldn’t even find himself in a comfortable position even if he tried. This was the first time his chest felt at ease as he listened to her soft breathing while she snuggled closer to him.

click here to continue (eli and leon's conversation)

click here to continue (eli and soren yang's conversation)

“Are you okay baby?” Leon asked as they sat on the dining table in the hotel room, noticing the gloom in Eli’s face as she set her phone down. Her eyes were glossed over as she looks up at him which make his chest tighten at the sight. “Bakit umiiyak?”

Eli knows she should probably tell him. Everything—that is. He deserves to know just how much love she has for him and how all of a sudden he was all that mattered to her. 

Silence was overrated after all, but silence with Leon was beyond priceless. It was calm and comforting—assuring even without so many words just his presence alone. And somehow, somewhere deep inside her, it makes her think that it has always been this way with Leon. Maybe it’s because Leon’s the only friend that she’s known for that long or the fact that it felt like Leon loved her just as much—but the silence— the one that she hated so much yesterday and all the other days without Leon, didn’t feel that way anymore now that he is here.

And he should know that right?

Eli didn’t know what to say, just shrugged and kept eating. She has never been more sure than before if she loved Leon. All of a sudden, now that he’s back, she never wants to go back to the time where there wasn’t a Leon in her life. 

Because no one in this world can love Ruby Elijah Yang the same way Leon Abel Park will.

Nothing in this world will feel just quite like Leon Abel and that’s scary because she can’t explain why and she is afraid of losing it again.

“Ellie?” Leon calls again, breaking her out of her trance. He had his arm stretched out in front of her, bringing the tissue close to her face to wipe her tears away.  “Aalat na yang pagkain mo, iniyakan mo na ng iniyakan.”

“Tarantado,” she curses before taking the tissue from his hand and slapping it away.

“Uninom ka ba ng gamot kagabi?” He asked, seeing how somber her facial expressions were since he first saw her again.

Eli shook her head no. “I forgot.”

“Bakit hindi? Gising ka pa naman ng 8PM kagabi ah?”

“Bakit alam mo ang schedule ng gamot ko?”

“What kind of fiance am I if I didn't know?” he looked at her feigning offense before laughing and admitting, “I asked Kuya Santi for your schedule. Noong isang buwan pa, para alam ko kung hindi ka umiinom ng gamot. Pero nakela Ynes ka naman every dinner so I assume you have them para ipaalala na uminom ka ng gamot.”

“You were shivering in your sleep noong umidlip kagabi. Nakalimutan ko nang uminom.”

“Nilamig lang ako!” he chuckled, munching on the chicken on his plate. “Ito naman.”

Eli did not reply, just shrugging off his joke. But in reality, it almost gave her a heart attack when he began shivering in his sleep, clutching her hand and tugging on the blanket he was given.

“I love you too much to leave you like that.”

Eli’s head snaps up to look at him, shocked at what had just slipped out of his mouth. “Ha?”

“Halaman.”

“Fuck you, Leon.”

“Please?”

“Oh my god! Seryoso kasi!”

“You want me to say it again?”

There was a fat pause after that as if she was contemplating on what her answer would be even if it was loud and clear of what it is,

Of course. I want to hear you say it again. Eli thought to herself.

“I love you, Ellie,” he repeats to her, unprovoked, smiling like the happiest little puppy that the world has ever seen. The complacent look on his face really just adds up to it, like he was smug and most definitely proud that he did not have any trouble admitting that.

After all, what is there to be afraid of?

Eli was and always will be his favorite song. Maybe that was why it didn’t take a lot for him to love her over again, because it’s not hard to sing the words to your old favorite song that you know by heart. 

Also because everyone else was right, he did have so much love for her, he was just terrified of admitting it—because for once in his life, the stakes are higher if he loses her. And he doesn’t want to lose Eli in a more painful way that there will be—so he blew the fire out when it started to get so big that someone noticed it.

But it’s different now. He knows better now. 

And better was being wherever Elijah Yang was. 

Better was being close to Elijah Yang.

Better was finally following where the magnetic force pulled him, and all the charges lead him back to Elijah Yang.

Accepting that he was in fact, in love with Elijah Yang, was something he didn’t think would take a stab wound on his side and seeing her crying in fear that she was going to lose him for him to realize. 

But he knows better now.

Leon loves Elijah Yang. 

And soon, she’ll be taking his last name with hers.

extras: (philomena yoon and elijah yang's conversation)

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[upsidedog]

max mayfield is 7 years old, like kelly green and annie johnson, who are her best friends. she isn’t their’s, she knows this. like she knows kelly will live in a mansion, become a princess and drive a lamborghini with her twelve kids and husband, tom simon, her seat partner. kelly’s happy, obviously, she cheated, she always cheats at m.a.s.h, but max is happy for kelly anyway, she tells her. max is marrying annie’s dad, the other girls gag at the idea, she makes a joke about marrying rich “like grandma said my mom should’ve!” max laughs too loud, no response from the girls. “i’m glad she didn’t though cuz i love my dad…” she specifies. this embarrassment doesn’t stop her from squealing at her own barf joke later on, she repeats it in case kelly and ann didn’t hear. “she’s so annoying, do we have to keep hanging out with her? your guy’s moms aren’t even friends anymore.” kelly pleads after recess, max knows they know she can hear them.

max mayfield is 9 years old, she and billy hargrove recently became siblings, legally at least, billy would not call them that, max doesn’t care. and not in the way that she’s feigning chillness to seem on top of things, but in the way that she knows if she plays her cards right she can prove herself as someone worth calling a sister. “that jacket makes you look like a dyke.” billy says, he and his friends pool into the backyard. a month ago she’d ask if she could play with them, but she’s smarter now, she’s no longer a pussy, she’s a dyke, its change, it’s progress, she can work with it. “yeah, even more than usual.” one of the friends adds, everybody laughs. max remains focused on tightening the bolts of her skateboard and uses her free hand to flip the boys off. mentally she prays this is what playful sibling fighting looks like and not an action that will get her deck ripped away from her and broken against the concrete. it’s fine, the boys mock and jeer but don’t say anything she hasn’t heard before. another friend asks if she rides her skateboard or just pretends to be it’s mom. this is in reference to the time she convinced herself the boys were interested in knowing her and earnestly spoke about the mechanics of her skateboard, being too passionate, speaking too much, smiling too wide. all things she has since learned the right amount of is none. “i don’t know.” she gets up. “do you have a life or are you such a dweeb the only time you feel the need to get off your ass is to annoy a little girl with real hobbies?” when she walks off she hears the other boys gang up on him, he’s the new fool, all the other boys were just guilty of the same thing, but whatever. she thinks maybe if she maintains this for a little longer they can return back to the sibling conversation. they don’t even have to call it that, they could just do the part where they’re nice to each other sometimes.

max mayfield is 11 years old. jenny chen is a teenager, fifteen, from san francisco, short black hair, dresses like she’s on the cover of thrasher, first girl max has ever seen at the skate park who isn’t just there to watch. max wants to be her friend so bad it makes her stomach turn. until it happens. “i never see other girls who skate! it’s so cool to meet you, i’m jenny!” max knows. she ignores jenny’s invitation to fist bump. “do you really skate? or are you just someone’s girlfriend?” max knows the answer to the question, but she also knows the ending to this story. jenny pulls her hand back like max hit it. “yeah i skate, but i’m sure the boys here wish.” her laugh is refreshing, max didn’t know that was a thing laughs could be, it was so cool and light and confident, like it reset something in her. max wonders how someone can be so cool without any hit of cruelty, when max tells jenny she has to do a trick to prove it she shrugs and agrees like it wasn’t something said with the intention of upsetting her. jenny does an ollie off on the half pipe and asks if she can see any of max’s tricks. it makes max more upset that there’s no malice in this request, the audacity to show genuine interest in her. max is usually too mean but to jenny she cannot be mean enough. and typically she cannot do an ollie off a half pipe. today is no different. she falls and wakes up in the hospital. billy hands her flowers, rolls his eyes, then goes to wait in the car. max’s mom lets jenny apologize. it’s a real genuine apology, even though she has nothing to be sorry for it still feels good and different. max tells jenny to leave and never sees her at the park again.

max mayfield is 13 years old, she wonders if the group of boys yelling over dig dug are too. her initial annoyance with their hogging of her favorite game has melted into an admiration.. that’s too bold, curiosity, maybe. there’s arguments every other minute but between those there’s “oh wait! oh shit! lucas you genius! you genius!” whoever’s praising “lucas” gets so excited his friend progressed in the game the other boys have to pull him away. when the little one says he can’t see, no one mocks his size, instead the group instinctively makes room for their friend. and they’re all being too loud, too passionate, definitely taking the game too seriously. max wonders what it would be like to have something like that. she wonders how long they have all been friends for. do you have one chance for something like their’s as a child and then never again? has she missed her opportunity? could she even exist in an environment like that or would her cruelness be so sharp it’d cut through any moments tenderness? if she just walked up and asked to join what they’d say? answers for another day. maybe never. probably never.

max mayfield is 15 years old and mike wheeler’s basement is her favorite place in the whole wide world. which is why it’s the ideal location for her birthday party. sure billy is dead and el and will are moving next week, but ignore that, because yes will and el are moving away which is sad because they’re two of her best friends, but they’re two of her best friends, and she’s there’s. el is sitting on the floor with max making stupid jokes and max is clutching a pillow to her stomach, laughing like she’s alone, too much, too loud, dustin joins in and is even worse, she loves it. lucas interrupts, nudging her back with his foot. “this is the part you like.” he mouths, big, stupid, earnest, adorable smile on his face, so proud to remember. she’s proud of him too, swooned might be the better word, if she’s being honest. she likes him so much she wants to shrink herself into something small and accessible for him, but the worst part is that isn’t even what he wants from her. as much as max is trained to see the worst in others, lucas is real and warm and never says anything he doesn’t mean and he says he likes her. “thanks.” is all she can get out, trying not unravel from the affection. her last straw is mike and will marching down the basement stairs singing happy birthday. she’s clenching her teeth, mentally “don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry”-ing. she’s crying. it didn’t work, she’s crying. they’re doing this nice thing and she’s going to ruin the moment because she’s crying, they’re the best friends she’s ever had and she’s crying, they’re the only friends she’s ever had and she’s crying and they’re hugging her and laughing and she’s laughing and oh god, it’s good, she’s crying because she’s loved.

[nomsfaultau]

Fault crew in nightvale :D

Nightvale of course bristles against interlopers, but this time the discrimination is that they’re new in town, not that they’re anomalous. Progress! And obviously if Nightvale decides to keep them there’s not much the crew can do to leave, so eventually they might even settle into a proper place in the town. Having like actual jobs and homes is crazy for The Blade and Wilbur. They’re remarkable only insofar as they’re something new to gossip about, which is a game changer. Everyone is very skittish of Carlos at first bc of the Foundation, and would probably murder Dr. Janey Lubelle if she’s around when they’re there. The Dr. Blake vibe is just too much.

Tommy as an intern bc hello red shirt! In a purely goof sense I can just picture that because everything is so insanely dangerous, he can just try to pet Khoshekh at the end of each shift and The Blade is instantly summoned. This is how he gets a ride back home. Tommy is likely in the most in danger due to having minimal protection and being nosy. Immediately tries to break into the dog park because he wants to see puppers.

While happy to finally be able to walk in broad daylight, The Blade is NOT pleased with the government surveillance state and corruption and has declared war on the night vale city council. Him and Sheriff Sam are beefing hard. It’s ON SIGHT. There’s probably a plot where he tries to take down the Nightvale government and due to a random old law somehow ends up mayor and hates it. Excited to meet John Peters, you know, the farmer, and is extremely disappointed about the invisible corn. Not sure how a Huntokar and The Blood God meeting would go but I think they should. Like…a protector who is a destroyer, do you get me.

On the other hand, city council is really mad at Tubbo for all the forbidden secrets they’re just randomly stumbling across bc of the omnipresence of the swarms. Tubbo gets locked up in the radon canyon like every other day and Phil breaks them out whenever they get board of watching HBO. Tried to follow along with one of Earl Harlan’s cooking segments and got very disturbed, but Wilbur just followed the recipe not aware anything was abnormal. Plus in Tubbos’ backstory there IS an old woman Josie reference, so it’s possible they already know her and she has been using their honey in recipes for years.

Parallel between the faceless old woman who secretly lives in your home and the half faceless young man who secretly lives in no home is fascinating. She keeps leaving him like centipedes in his drawers or whatever and it just goes ‘oh nice a snack’ which probably irks her. Likes hanging with the glow cloud bc the ambient lighting stops the void, who is itself pretty chuffed with all the dead animal carcasses

Philza got a letter for jury duty during Hiram McDaniel’s trial and blew it off bc he was dealing with the Foundation. I think he’d be very chill with Josh Crayton, bonding over different forms and getting stuck in a form you didn’t plan on. Impressed with Tamika Flynn’s Librarian wrangling as a teen, though is more supportive of people growing and changing interests than Cecil dreaming of the glory days. And uhhh technically he’s responsible for the death of many nightvale interns since in chapter Phthalo I used wtnv interns to name Foundation employees. Possibly interesting implications if Chad Bowinger, Maureen Johnson, and Kareem Nazari went to work for the Foundation at some point…?

[phantasmiac]

pro wrestler!touya au where he’s the oldest son of the todoroki ring dynasty

cw/tw: none except for one nsfw mention (nothing detailed) and a fem!reader

wc: 0.9k

a/n: i need everyone who knows their wwe to know that 1) i am imagining endeavor as the undertaker and 2) the dabi x reader in this is highly inspired by cm punk and aj lee. do with that what you will xx

touya who has one of the most anticipated wrestling debuts of all time at 19 years old, all because he’s the son of pro wrestling legends, rei and endeavor. he’s an instant hit because of his badass persona and alt ring attire (see: jeff hardy), but most notably for his “daredevil” style of wrestling: crazy stunts with tables, ladders, chairs, etc., lots of high flying maneuvers; but he also falls under the brawler category. it all makes up for not being a “powerhouse” wrestler (the ones who are huge and can lift a ton) like his old man or his up and coming little brother natsu. he definitely has some metal entrance song like the ones used in the 2000s (imagine him walking out to metalingus 😫).

touya hates being linked to his parents, and really would have preferred if his siblings hadn’t followed him into the industry — but still hypes up them up during any out of character interviews and supports them as best he can. especially fuyumi bc he knows the women in the industry don’t get the credit they deserve 😡 gives great advice and won’t turn them down if they ask to train with him. but he downright refuses to be involved in any family storylines, he thinks it’s super corny. doesn’t mind being put in real matches against them or tag teaming, just as long as it doesn’t become a whole thing.

touya most often takes on the heel role (aka the bad guy role), but doesn’t mind occasionally acting as a tweener (the anti-hero). his siblings are all faces (good guys). he’s perfect for the role because he’s amazing on a microphone. even though the storylines are planned, all of his segments or promos are written by him and contain a lot of great improv, and they’re always considered iconic by fans, bound to be on a “top 10 wrestling promos of all time” list. he’s just the bad guy you can’t help but root for, even if you’re a fan of his opponent. everyone hates that they love him! on the other hand it kinda sucks because his dad was also a popular heel during his career, so he gets a lot of comparisons.

backstage and out of character, touya is actually a super chill guy. he’s always down to do things for charity, whether it be matches or meeting fans. never says no to a picture or an autograph (unless you’re a dick about it) and has a soft spot for kid fans. you’ll most often find him with his head down listening to music in the locker room, hyping himself up before it’s time to head out to the ring. probably has beef with some other people on the roster because he comes off as arrogant (he’s just reserved and quiet!) and because of his family background. it makes him laugh because he’s really unbothered at the end of the day.

you’re put into a storyline with him where you’re supposed to act as his love interest, and fans are always commenting on how much chemistry you share. the fans eat it up because you’re the first female wrestler touya has ever interacted with both in and out of the ring. most fans thinks you both are probably just really good at acting; but the secret to your chemistry is the hot quickie you have backstage before every segment. you really do start off as coworkers at the beginning, and then friends with benefits, but as the storyline progresses and you’re forced to constantly work and spend time together he really starts to fall for you hard. needless to say you become a power couple pretty quickly and touya can’t even bring himself to be angry at the fact that you’re becoming the next generation rei and endeavor. because he loves and respects you so much 🥹 both as a fellow wrestler and a person.

you’re on the road together 24/7 and touya loves it because he gets to spend every day with his best friend! he loves to train with you, gets so very proud when he sees you pull out a move you’d practiced with him during an actual live match! he’s so funny bc he’s been in this industry for so long and understands that most rivalries aren’t real, but always ends up having animosity towards your opponents in real life 😭 especially if you got injured fighting against them, even if it was a complete accident. you sew and patch up a lot of his attire for him, so he always feels like he has a part of you with him when he goes out there. if you wear any of his siblings merch instead of his he’ll have a pout etched on his face for as long as it takes him to get over it. if your storyline eventually comes to an end he will adamantly refuse to do another romantic one with anyone else.

at the beginning of his career he expected to be one of those wrestlers who’s still in the game in their 50s. but by the time he’s in his mid 30s and you guys are over a decade into your relationship and a couple of years into your marriage, he decides he wants to settle down and have a family with you. so he ends up retiring and fans are heartbroken, but not angry because touya released the sweetest retirement message and they’re so happy for you two 🥰 he does make surprise comebacks once in awhile post retirement, can’t completely stay away from the ring. and now he’s entirely shameless about supporting his siblings. makes your kids become their super fans. sometimes he shows up to events to support them as an audience member, with his babies on his shoulders. he’s just living his peaceful little life knowing that he was able to have a successful career and retired as a legend.

★ a/n pt ii: are there any other dabi stans who had a hardcore wwe phase, is that a subgenre of dabi stan or does the population just consist of me

[aristocratic-otter]

Howdy y'all!

It seems like I can only find the wherewithal to post on Sunday these days. Please don't stop tagging me for Wednesdays, though! I have hope that I'll build up the free time for it again!

Thanks to @prettygoododds, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @larkral, @wellbelesbian, @artsyunderstudy, @nightimedreamersghost, @rimeswithpurple, @shemakesmeforget, @whatevertheweather, @ileadacharmedlife, @facewithoutheart, @cutestkilla and @alexalexinii for tagging me over the last couple of weeks!

First things first, To Heal A Broken Mind is in the homestretch, y'all! It ought to be done in the next two weeks, and then goes to my beta, and then I finally get to share it with @yellobb-old and the rest of the world! Here's a bit of softness from the final chapter:

“I love you!” I blurt, and then squeak and hide my face in his shoulder. But he doesn’t let me hide, just chuckles and lifts my head up so I’m facing him again. . 

“I love you too,” he says solemnly, and I feel tears burn at the corner of my eyes. “But hold that thought. After tomorrow, say it to me again. And I��ll do the same. And we’ll start our new life…or, at least, my new life, with you in it. For good this time”

Westward Son is also on the downhill slide, both in the story and in the completion of it! I estimate that the final chapter will go up before November. Here's our crew getting to know a new friend:

Acorn knows where all sorts of forest gleanings may be had. He shows us berry bushes that still have ripe fruit, though chilled by the frost. He digs up squirrel hordes of acorns (his namesake, he chuckles), along with other nuts and seeds. And, while he is strictly a plant eater, he isn’t offended when we hunt the beasts of the forest. He even shows us the best places to set traps or string fishing lines. 

When I ask him if he’s bothered by us eating meat in his presence, he’s philosophical. “Should I grow angry at the puma or the wolf because they consume the beautiful deer and rabbits? Their needs are not mine, and so I am content with eating differently from humans, because I am not human.”

The next chapter of Saving Simon Snow is coming soon, lol (and so is Simon) (warning for smutty snippet below):

It’s harder than you’d think to roll your eyes and sneer in disgust when the love of your life is rocking in and out of you, and you feel so full that you’re certain you’ll burst. But I put in the work. 

“Consummated? You’re a moron, Snow,” I grumble, even as he steadily takes me apart. 

He laughs. “I feel like you should call me Simon when I’m fucking you,” he says, panting. 

“You’re a moron, Simon,” I repeat obediently. 

Here's a little bit of tension from Snow Fox (next chapter also up in a day or two!)

Gareth comes into view, his pistol now pressed to the back of Malcolm Grimm’s head. “I tied up the Lieutenant, Sir. Shall I give the rest of these blackguards the same treatment?”

Forgive me, Baz.

“As you please,” I tell Gareth, keeping my tone light. “And no need to be gentle.”

From my CORB, The Heart in The Well, Baz is in a spot of trouble.

A sharp pain in my skull, and I found myself facing a hobgoblin. He was holding me up by my hair. Hobgoblins are related to goblins, but their skin is more greenish-grey than green, and they’re far uglier. But they eat people, just like their prettier cousins. I wondered if I was about to be their next meal. 

I hoped they’d choke on me.

From what I am currently calling "Simon the TikTok Dancer" (which will absolutely not be its final name), try to guess who Simon's teacher is 😉

At least Snow’s obvious progress makes what I have to tell him tonight easier. I’ve been dreading it all day. San Diego State University starts up again on Monday, and so our dance season is over. I have to say good-bye to Snow, at least for the school year. 

I indulge myself in watching him dance, not eager to bring down the mood already. 

I can see spots where his control is rough, and areas where he needs more precision, but truly, he’s already beautiful to watch.

And finally, a little Simon and Baz bonding from Stars, Flowers, and Children:

Simon is bubbling over with excitement, and I can’t help being infected with his enthusiasm. The moment we reach the pond, he spins to face me with a wild grin and says, “We’ve found Blackbeard’s lagoon, Baz! His buried treasure must be nearby!” 

I stare at him. What on Earth is he on about?

Simon’s smile fades a little. When he speaks again, it’s in a softer, more coaxing tone. “Come on Baz. Haven’t you ever played a game of make believe?”

Is that what this is?  “I didn’t grow up around many other children,” I admit, stiffly. 

Simon’s expression softens into something that looks very much like pity. It’s intolerable. 

I'm actually posting well before midnight for once, so I'm going to tag generously. Welcome and join me if you'd like, friends!

@angelsfalling16, @aroace-genderfluid-sheep, @annabellelux, @bazzybelle, @bloodiedpixie, @bookish-bogwitch, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @captain-aralias, @cosmicalart, @confused-bi-queer, @dragoneggos, @erzbethluna, @frjsti, @fatalfangirl, @gekkoinapeartree, @giishu, @hushed-chorus, @ionlydrinkhotwater, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @ileadacharmedlife, @j-nipper-95, @jbrrring, @jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists, @krisrix, @larkral, @letraspal, @martsonmars, @messofthejess, @melodysmash, @moments-au-crayon22, @moodandmist, @mostlymaudlin, @onepintobean, @prettylightsbigcity, @palimpsessed, @sillyunicorn