#getting likes still gives me warm fuzzies it helps people feel seen a lot of the time if that makes sense

[ridragon]

A lot of Tumblr people are telling the newcomers that likes do literally nothing, but don't take that as that they're literally worthless. A like, algorithmically, doesn't do anything yes, but you can use them for bookmarks to save posts. They also can show an op you support them if you can't think of a comment or something on a post of theirs. You don't also don't need to reblog things if you're shy, (I keep seeing posts that feel a bit... Guilt trippy towards people who don't want to.) artists really appreciate rbs in particular because it's often the only way we can be seen more and we can get more eyes on the art and our blog and work, but if you're shy or just don't want to any decent person wouldn't hold it against you if you just wanna just like to show your support quietly! Just remember that reblogs are appreciated even more.

[rafesangelita]

♡ when pope doesn’t want to hit you during sex..

warnings: oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, slight dirty talk, angst, finger sucking, mentions of past sexual encounters, reassurance and comfort, brief description of reader being treated poorly, overstimulation, soft sex, praise, reader cries, pope is so gentle and sweet ૮ . . ྀིა⁩

a/n: highly recommend reading bitchy!pogue!reader’s lore if you haven’t already so you could get a better understanding of her <3 this was slightly inspired by the ending of ‘anora’

wc: 1.3k

“pope, pope, pope—” you sounded like a broken record, the man’s name falling off of your lips like a mantra. working his tongue in skillful cirlces around your clit, you shuddered as his grip around your thighs tightened, arching your back off of his sheets with a cry. you didn’t think he had it in him. pope had effortlessly made you scream and cry in overstimulation for the past twenty minutes, your brain fuzzy and vision hazy as he pushed you over the edge time and time again.

“how are you so good at that?” you couldn’t help but ask as pope licked the remnants of you off of his lips, your eyes running down his shirtless form. “well i took a lot of anatomy classes for science and stuff, you know? bodily functions are kinda my thing. jj also might’ve given me some pointers..” you laughed, your chest rising and falling as you basked in your post-orgasm bliss. pope looked up at you sheepishly, sorta in disbelief that he had you of all people here in his room.

deciding to put his shirt back on, pope froze once you pulled at his arm. “what are you doing?” your brows knitted together in confusion when you saw him looking around like you two were finished. “i uhm— i didn’t want to assume that you wanted to have like full on sex, so i was just gonna let you get dressed whenever you felt ready.” you laid there dumbfounded. no guy has ever been this considerate. “are you kidding? i’m not leaving you high and dry..”

pope swallowed thickly when your hand trailed down his frontside, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you palmed him through his shorts. “did jj give also give you pointers on how to fuck?” pope shook his head, allowing you to pull him down between your legs. he was rock hard in his boxers and he was still making it all about you. “you got this hard just by tasting me?” your voice was sugary sweet and pope swore he could blow his load right then and there when he felt your fingers working him out of the restraints of his underwear.

“yes,” he nodded, deciding to help you out when one of the charms from your nails got caught in his zipper, “you tasted so good, and you’re also just really, really pretty.” he stammered, the nervous look on his face making you giggle. ‘pretty’ the word was so wholesome, you hadn’t been called that in ages. you were so used to the terms ‘hot’, ‘sexy’, even ‘sinful’, but pretty? you couldn’t decide if you liked the way your heart fluttered in your chest when you heard it.

you shook off the weird feeling that came over you, instead distracting yourself by taking pope’s hand and wrapping your lips around his thumb. “oh, wow! that’s—” pope had never seen such an erotic sight before in his life. not even in the weird porn jj would flash him out of no where. pope could sense a slight energy shift, but ultimately decided that he was just mentally psyching himself out cause he couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

once he was prodding at your entrance, you and pope shared a knowing look before he pushed into you, a muffled moan tumbling from your mouth as he groaned, screwing his eyes shut at the sheer feeling of you being wrapped around him. you felt better than what he could’ve ever imagined. warm, wet, and gripping him like a fucking vice. he cursed to himself, hoping, pleading, that he wouldn’t finish quick and make a fool out of himself.

you were already a mess when his head was between your thighs, but feeling him inside you was a totally different thing. he knew exactly how to angle his hips so he could hit that spot that made you see stars behind closed eyes. he was slow and calculated, unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. the realization had you feeling exposed and slightly embarrassed.

why wasn’t he being rough?

why wasn’t he being selfish?

why wasn’t he using you purely for his own pleasure?

pope leaned down and started leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck, taking his hand and intertwining his fingers with your own. “you feel amazing,” he praised, “just perfect.” you blinked, your breath quickening as his lips found their way to yours. your brain wanted you to push him away and tell him that kissing on the lips was too intimate, but your heart had you giving in and kissing him back.

it wasn’t until you and pope were lost in each other’s orbit and his nose was nudging yours ever so gently that you panicked and turned your head away from him. you were losing control, and you needed to get behind the steering wheel fast. ripping your hand from his, you grabbed his shoulders and flipped you two over so you were on top. pope looked surprised, the sudden change in position throwing him for a loop. you reached back, lining him up with your entrance before sinking back down onto his length.

pope let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, his hands flying out to rest in the curve where your thighs and your hips met. you started up a steady pace, the man underneath you shamelessly grunting and moaning as you rode him with ease. you refused to look at him or meet his eyes, partly because you were terrified of seeing what you couldn’t handle right now; and that was the gaze of a man who wasn’t viewing you as some kind of sex object, but as an actual living being with emotions and thoughts and aspirations of your own.

pope knew what you did for work but it didn’t bother him. he was concerned about your safety more than anything. your fears came true when pope ran his fingers across your flesh, the look on his face saying it all. he wasn’t just admiring your body, he was cherishing it. every curve, every detail, he was engraving every single thing into his brain in hopes that he wouldn’t have to rely on his memory of you to be the only time he’ll ever see you like this.

you couldn’t take it anymore. you needed to prove that pope was exactly like everyone else. “hit me,” you moaned, grabbing his hand and placing it on your cheek, “please, i want you to do it.” pope felt his heart drop to his stomach, his face twisting in confusion. “hit you? why would i do that?” he stopped you, sitting up against the headboard while you avoided his heated stare. “why wouldn’t you?” you scoffed, “it’s like every guy’s wet dream.”

“it’s not mine.”

that’s exactly what you were afraid to hear. of course pope wasn’t some sick individual who got off on hitting girls and inflicting pain on them— words included. “please, just do it. choke me, pull my hair, anything— i want it.” with his palm still on your cheek, he cradled your face, forcing you to meet his eyes. “no, you don’t.” he whispered, stroking your skin with the utmost care.

him being gentle hurt you more than any man who threw you around with no regard ever did. you didn’t know no other way, you didn’t know what it was like to be put first. nor did you know how to outwardly express your appreciation or vulnerability without having to give something away. you stared at him, your resolve crumbling as you cried into his chest, his arms enveloping you immediately. you cried until you couldn’t anymore, all while pope was still nestled inside of you.

he didn’t say a word as he held you tightly, your tears dripping down onto his skin as he rubbed soothing circles into your back. pope already knew what was wrong, his ability to read you and see right through you was uncanny. “no one can hurt you anymore,” he stated, “not in here. not when you’re with me.”

[calummss]

Sweet Ultraviolence | Klaus Mikaelson

masterlist

summary: it was no secret that klaus mikaelson felt for you, but you didn’t, maybe deep down but not enough. so how do you react when the nortorious serial killer gives you the most fucked up surprise?

pairing: fem! reader x klaus mikaelson

words: 4k

a/n: scene taken from the sexiest ahs scene ever. here’s a link !! probably my favourite klaus fic i have written. also smut!! i’ve written smut?? i’m not a smut writer so if it’s bad pretend it never happened….

‘Just because I agreed to this doesn’t mean it means anything.’

‘This date?’

‘Don’t call this a date.’

‘Why?’ Klaus asked,grabbing his wine glass, his gaze sitting on your frame as he sipped the red liquor. ‘We’re at my house, eating a lovely dinner with a beautiful girl. By my definition it is a date.’

‘Please,’ you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you felt the warmth of the fireplace hit your bare skin, engulfing you in a hug. ‘You are fully aware of why I am here so let’s not read something into this.’

Sitting at a table with Klaus Mikaelson was not as romantic as it sounded. The dark walls pushing in on you, a dark gaze staring at you, darkness that made up the house. Even the plate of meat, potatoes and vegetables seemed less appetising as they normally would. Maybe it was the blood seeping out of the flesh that made you feel agitated, maybe it was the notorious vampire serial killer that so desperately wanted you to be his.

‘Still,’ he paused for a second, ‘you came.’

You yourself took a sip of the white wine you had mixed with sparkling water, the subtle bitterness biting your tongue, the warm fuzzy feeling of the alcohol leaving a familiar taste of comfort.

‘Klaus, sometimes I think you are so delusional, like how are you functioning?’

‘I function just fine, love.’

‘Get me another one of these,’ you held up your glass, lifting it to your red painted lips to drown the last drop of its contents. ‘And maybe I’ll continue to act like I am loving this dinner date from hell.’ You gave him a wide grin displaying your obvious sarcasm.

Klaus smirked, his twisted smile making your stomach churn. This would be a lot easier if he weren’t attractive but of course the maniac looks like he was carved by Lucifer himself.

‘That’s a tempting offer.’

He barely lifted his hand signalling the compelled boy that he wanted something. ‘Another white wine with sparkling water for my ravishing date, Taylor.’

‘Wow,’ you jested in fake astonishment, ‘so intimidating. Raising your hand, getting whatever you want…do you enjoy it? Getting everything with the snap of your fingers.’

‘Why wouldn’t I?’

‘You compel people to do stuff for you. Don’t you want people to do things because they want to? Care for you?’

‘No one cares about me, love.’ He chuckles, ‘I’m the monster, remember?’

You didn’t reply. You stayed silent, staring at him being the only communication amongst the quiet room, only the cracking of burning wood to be heard. ‘Why do you like me?’ You shoved the potato around your plate, using it to smear the watered down blood across the porcelain.

‘What’s not to like?’ Klaus shrugged his shoulders, leaning back into the chair, the definition of his abs to see seen through the thin material of his shirt.

You looked up from your plate. ‘Just answer the question, please.’

‘You’re like a ray of sunshine on a bad day. When I’m near you I feel you good nature rub off on me—makes me want to stay close. You’re kind even if not to me, you treat everyone the same and give chances to people that probably don’t deserve them. You help when help is needed and disregard yourself for others. You’re beautiful. You smell good, and the fact that I cannot have you makes me want you even more.’

‘I’m not something you can own, Klaus,’

‘I can’t own you love, but I can own your heart if you let me.’

Again you stayed quiet, scared that if you speak he could hear the smitteness in your tone, knowing that for a second he had gotten under your skin.

‘Admit that you are drawn to darkness, Y/n,’ his eyes stared into the most inner part of your soul, ‘even the purest of heart are drawn to it.’

‘I never said I’m not, Klaus,’ you took a sip of wine. ‘I like darkness. The unknown, the excitement…Just because I don’t like your darkness Klaus doesn’t mean I’m denying my thoughts or feelings.’

‘Keep telling yourself that.’

‘You aggravate me.’ You downed the rest of your drink again, setting it down with a loud thud.

‘Makes you more attractive.’

‘Taylor?’ You smiled over at the boy Klaus had compelled for tonight’s dinner, that what you had hoped anyway, ‘Do you by chance have any earplugs, sweetheart?’

Taylor’s eyes grew wide, pressing his lips together as he turned his head towards Klaus for further instructions. Klaus felt his stare but continued to stare at you with a grin.

‘What are you staring at, Taylor? Get the lady some earplugs.’

Taylor left soon after, leaving the two of you alone which made you chuckle at Klaus who didn’t deny your request.

‘What?’ He asked plainly.

‘Nothing.’ You cut a piece of the steak and let the blood coat your tongue, continuing to feel his eyes linger on your for the rest of the night.

A week later and you were back at school. Vacation was over and reality hit. Thankfully you were seeing Mr. Saltzman today. A class you could pay a little less attention to since you sat in the back of the room, daydreaming away. You were too busy talking to friends that you didn’t realise a pair of eyes that stalked you from afar. Eyes watching your every move.

Finishing up the conversation you said your goodbyes to Dana and Heather and turned around to head towards the gym but when you took a step back you collided with a body making them stumble and spill their drink on the floor.

‘Oh my god, I am so sorry. Are you okay?’ You reach out to help Connor find his balance but he slapped away your arms, letting out a deep growl.

‘What is your fucking problem, bitch?!’

‘Excuse me?’ You drew your eyebrows together. It was clearly an accident. Why was he getting so worked up?

‘I said what is your problem?’ He came dangerously close.

‘Hey,’ his friend pulled him back, trying to reassure him that it was an honest accident.

‘You better apologise.’

‘I literally apologised, asshole. How about you pipe down on your ego and take a long second to reevaluate your life? Pathetic.’

Connor’s face turned red, his strength releasing him from his friends grip, his face too close to yours for your liking. ‘I’ve disliked you since I’ve known you, Y/n. Don’t give me more reasons to hate you.’

‘Get a life.’ You laughed out loud.

‘You better watch your back!’

‘Okay, Connor. Will do.’ You called after him as he left the scene,his head turning your way as you cleaned off the few drops of water that caught themselves on your fabric. Chuckling to yourself, you headed the way you were supposed to go and headed towards cheerleading practice, the anger giving you a surge of adrenaline that reassured you that you were going to nail the landing you had failed to complete for weeks.

Klaus had watched the scene from afar, his eyes trailing Connor as he walked past Klaus whose forehead creased, his eyes turning lifeless as he turned around and followed Connor to wherever it was he was heading to.

Practice was good and you were right; you managed to pull off the stunt earning you praise from the coach, letting you know that if you keep up the good work you will be the best cheerleader Mystic Falls ever had. You hated saying it but you lived off of praise. Was there a better feeling than being seen for your hard work and determination? Not really, but that was your opinion. You headed towards the locker room, your red cheer uniform starting to slowly take up some of the sweat from practice. It was late. Everyone went home instead of you. You wanted to perfect the new choreography and stayed long after practice ended. So when you entered the locker room it was dead silent. The squeaking of the locker made you flinch as you placed your water bottle into the side pocket of your bag. You were about to take out your bag to change when you heard the sound of droplets hitting the floor. Wet drops. Only then had you noticed that your feet were also wet. And it wasn’t sweat…it was too much for it to be just that… When you looked up to where the sound was coming from you froze. Staring up at the ceiling just above the lockers, the body of Connor hung from the wall. Broken arms and legs that were twisted inhumane. His intestines spilling from his torso, head hanging from his neck like it was about to fall off. His blood was dripping onto your locker, the smell of blood prominent and not something that could be ignored. As you stared up at him, taking in his lifeless body, a faint smile spread across your lips as you thought back on the scene earlier in the hallway.

‘You like my surprise?’ A voice sounded from behind you and you knew exactly who it was so you didn’t bother to turn around, too fascinated by the body hanging like a spider.

‘You did this?’

You heard his footsteps come closer, his heavy footsteps giving away his exact location whenever he moved, so much that after a few seconds you knew that he was standing right behind you, him too staring at the body.

‘I didn’t like how he talked to you or his lack of respect, his entitlement.’

You rubbed your lips against each other, turning around to slap Klaus across the face, feeling a painful sting across the palm of your hand, grabbing a handful of his shirt and getting up on the bench looking down at him. Vertical wrinkles appeared between his eyebrows, his eyes bigger than before. Fear. Fear that he had fucked up the last chance he had of being with you. Scared that you would never ever look at him again. Fear that he had lost you before he even had you.

You took your finger and slowly dragged it across his face, pulling down his bottom lips as you stared at him. ‘That is the most fucked up thing anyone has ever done for me,’ you stared into his eyes that were still wide, your lack of transparency making him feel sick. ‘That’s so hot.’ You dragged out, taking that fistful of his shirt and crashing your lips onto him, your hands roaming his hair, tugging as you felt him against you. His tongue running across your bottom lip, tasting what he had craved for so long. He continued to place wet kisses down your cleavage, continuing to kiss your legs, holding onto your ankle as he came face-to-face with the blood on your foot. Looking up through his lashes he saw you wipe away a single tear, inhaling the scent of blood before dragging his tongue across the top of your foot, licking the sweet taste of blood. Coming back up to kiss you again, you could feel his hot breath ricochet off your cheeks, his growling making your cunt ache from between your legs as he continued to kiss you.

‘I thought you hated violence.’ He breathed, allowing you to catch your breath.

‘I was wrong.’

‘Does that mean—‘

‘Shut up and kiss me.’

Klaus had never shut up so quickly, pressing his body against yours wanting to be one with you. Ripping off his shirt you felt him against your skin. His fingers curled around the hem of your panties, dragging them down your legs. You curled the finger around your top, ready to take it off but Klaus’ hands shot up to hold them still. ‘Don’t take it off. I want to fuck you in it.’

You suppress a moan as he lowered his head underneath your skirt, feeling his breath on the inside of your thighs, already making your legs tremble. You let out a quiet yelp as you felt his tongue licked your slit, closing his lips around your clit as he started to swirl his tongue around your cunt, sending vibrations through your stomach as you moaned. ‘Fuck,’ your hands grabbed his hair, trying to give yourself some stability. Klaus noticed your legs growing weaker. He picked you up with your legs over his shoulders and laid you down on the blood covered floor, feeling the blood go up your ass. Klaus continued to suck on your clit, concealed groans vibrating against your cunt, the knot in your stomach growing tighter as his tongue focused on your most sensitive spot. You could feel your thighs go numb from holding them up. Your breath becoming shorter the more Klaus dragged his tongue across your cunt, collecting your juices, making you realise you were about to come. You felt your muscles contract, your legs starting to shake as the knot tightened faster than it had ever before.

‘Fuck,’ you pressed air past your lips, ‘please don’t stop.’

Close to coming, Klaus gave one last suck before you felt your stomach explode, squirming underneath him as he continued to flick his tongue over your sensitive clit, making your body shudder with aftershocks.

‘Fuck Klaus, fuck fuck fuck.’

You felt Klaus press a kiss on your cunt before coming out from underneath your skirt, catching your lips so you could taste yoursef.

‘You like this don’t you?’

You nodded.

‘You like the way I touch you?’

You nodded again, feeling his hand make its way down to your cunt again.

‘Stop,’ you breathed, stopping his hand trailing down to your cunt that had craved his touch the moment he stared into your eyes. ‘Let me,’ You slowly dropped to your knees, blood staining them s you reached for his trousers, starting to unbuckle his belt, your fingers slipping off the buckle.

‘What are you doing?’ Klaus let out a suppressed smile, his head hanging low to see your hands undoing his belt, your lips caught between your teeth.

‘I want this.’

‘My cock?’

‘Yes.’ Another deep breath.

‘I thought you hadn't done this before?’

‘I haven’t.’ Having undone his buckle and strap, you grabbed his front pockets and pulled down the rough fabric, the bulge beneath his boxer meeting your eyes, a warm heat spreading through your legs. ‘But how do you know that?’

‘Watching you is my favourite pastime.’

‘You’re fucked up…’

‘So are you, love.’

Taking a gulp, you pulled down his boxers to release his cock that sprang against his stomach. Your breath caught your throat. It’s big. Klaus could feel his pre-cum pumping through him just thinking of your innocent lips tucked around the head of his tip. His chest swelled with air as he trailed his finger down to the base of his cock, twitching under his own touch. Your breath hitched, trying to get as much oxygen into your lungs, as you watched him come towards you, knowing that his size would make it hard to breathe. His hand stroked over his hardened shaft, collecting a small speck of pre-cum. You grabbed his thick pulsing length, a groan leaving his throat as your fingers wrapped around him. You leaned over, carefully licking his tip, slowly building your way to sucking on his head, spitting on it as you wet his pink cock.

‘Fuck,’ Klaus hissed, his dirty blond curls falling back as his hand tangled itself in your hair.

You gagged on his size, but you refused to let go of him, pushing his cock deeper into the back of your throat. Saliva filled your mouth as you focused, moaning against him as he gently started thrust in and out, not wanting to hurt you.

‘So, so eager for me, aren’t you?’ He groaned.

His hands found their way to your hair, pulling your head back, allowing him further access to your throat. A mixture of tears, saliva and cum dribbled from between your lips, but he didn’t seem to mind, deep groans continuing to escape his pink lips. The slight sound of you gagging letting his moans increase in sound.

‘Such a pretty face. Look at you.’ He glanced down, staring into your eyes. ‘You look so good taking my cock. Your first time having a cock down your throat and you’re doing so well.’

A pool of cum was now dripping below you. You couldn’t help it, you were so turned on. You needed him. You need him inside of you soon. Growling, he pushed the head of the shaft past your lips, hitting the back of your throat. Klaus tangled his fingers into your messy hair, eager to push in deeper. You swallowed around his throbbing length, earning a huffed moan. You continue stroking him, your hand gliding along his shaft, your own arousal starring to grow

‘You’re so fucking good at taking my cock,’ he thrusted in and out of my aching mouth. ‘Your first time and you already know how to send me over the edge.’

He pulled out his cock giving you time to breathe. You gasped out for air, before he slid back inside of you. Pre-cum was leaking from his tip, the salty taste mixing in with your own spit. You pulled in your lips around his cock, sucking harder, your tongue pressing up against the head and circling around it. Your lips and throat we’re starting to turn numb, every thrust releasing a tear, every salty tear mixing with the shaft.

‘Look at me,’

Your eyes shot up and stared into his.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck.’ He moaned loudly before releasing into your mouth; hot jets hitting the back of your throat. ‘Be a doll and swallow.’ He worked hard to suppress a moan, jerking himself through his orgasm. Both of your chests were heavy—you had almost forgotten what breathing felt like. He huffed and dragged his fingers across your face, stroking your cheeks as he stared at you with sparks in his eyes. ‘You did so well, my love.’

Carefully grabbing you by your throat, Klaus pulled you up and swiftly turned you around, his hard cock pressing up against your firm ass as his hands glided over your tits, smearing the blood across your uniform and cleavage; drops of blood running down your chest as you placed your arms behind your head as Klaus started to place kisses again the thin skin on your neck, gently sucking on it, making the hairs on your body stand up.

‘God, you’re so fucking hot.’

You hummed in response, his mouth on your neck making it hard to concentrate.

Klaus brushed the tip of his cock against your slit, teasing you as his moved it along your cunt, adoring the way you whimpered at his slightest touch.

‘I thought you were a gentleman and wouldn’t fuck a girl so shortly after the first dinner.’

‘I’m not a gentleman tonight, my love. You make it hard to control myself,’ Klaus whispered in your ear, sending a chill down your spine that stopped before it reached your toes as he thrusted into your core making you shout out.

‘Oh my god, Klaus. Fuck you feel so fucking good.’

His cock stretched out the walls of your cunt that welcomed him, each thrust slowly adjusting to his size. His lips kept him busy at your neck and collar, leaving trails of dark marks. Hickeys or blood, it was hard to tell. You could feel the blood slowly dry out on your skin, but new blood spread across your body as Connor’s blood continued to seep out of him, letting you and Klaus be covered in his surprise. He began to pump his cock out of you with pace. Your hands grasped his wrist, nails digging into his skin, asking for more. Throwing your head back onto his chest as one hand wrapped around your throat, the other holding your waist.

‘Not satisfied darling?' He smirked against your skin, picking up pace as he pounded into you. Your tits moving with every thrust, the sound of skin filling the locker room.

‘You're so fucking tight.’ He grunted into your neck. 'It's like you were made to take my cock. Look at you, taking my cock like the good girl you are. Who would’ve thought you were so sick and twisted?’ You felt a new bundle tighten in your stomach. ‘Fucking in a school locker room covered in blood. God made me immortal because you are my match. Fuck, you feel so good.’

Those words felt like fireworks exploding inside of your gut.

‘Shit!’ You cried out in ecstasy, as he pulled you into a climax, sending your body over the edge. He kept on thrusting, overstimulating you, until moments later, he reached his high as well, and filled you up with his cum. Klaus stayed inside of you for a few seconds, breathing heavily as a sweat pearl rolled down his forehead, holding you tight in case your legs were to give in.

‘Your body was made for me.’ He huffed. Klaus slid his cock out of you, staring at you, slowly lowering you to the red messy floor, setting you down before laying down next to you, holding his head up with the palm of his hand.

You took a few seconds to breathe, catching your breath as your high started to fade, catching a glimpse of the body up high. ‘You can’t leave that there. I’ve got class at seven in the morning.’ You mused, gazing at Klaus who had blood spread across his chest. He looked so hot you could fuck him again.

‘Don’t worry, love,’ he reached for the bag behind him. ‘I know how to clean up messes. I’ve done this for over a thousand years.’ He placed a cigarette between lips, pulling out a lighter and taking a drag of the hot smoke. He truly was irresistible.

‘Have you killed a lot of people?’

‘Yes.’

You grabbed a knife that laid behind your back, the knife Klaus probably used to cut certain parts of Connor. ‘Would you kill me?’

Klaus took another drag over the cigarette, the smoke making his voice sound deeper than it was. ‘No.’ He shook his head.

‘Would you kill for me?’

Klaus stared up at Connor pointing at him, ‘You have to ask?’

‘There’s this guy, Dean Gabriel. He took away the only person I ever loved.’ You said, staring at the knife, feeling Klaus prop himself up. ‘He violated my sister. Made her feel disgusted, defiled her without her consent. She took her own life because that man ruined her life in twenty minutes. And whilst she is no longer here, he gets to roam around like nothing happened…’

Klaus leaned forward, his voice sounding huskier, ‘Just tell me where he is and he won’t see any more sunrises after I find him.’

Gazing at the knife, you swung your leg over Klaus to straddle him.

‘Promise me he’ll suffer.’ A tear fell down the apple of your cheeks, ‘I want it to be painful.’

‘I promise.’

You lowered yourself to kiss him, your tears mixing with the blood on your face as your heart was finally lighter than it had been for a while. All because of a surprise you enjoyed more than he had anticipated.

[the-sleepy-conductor]

Ok headcanon time.

I've seen lots of headcanons about Emmet always saying "I am Emmet" simply because it could be a verbal stim, or he just automatically starts doing so because people confuse him with Ingo.

But hear me out.

He starts doing it because of Legends Arceus.

Before I dive into this, quick tw of mentions of death, as well as panic attacks. Also possibly derealization and depersonalization? I'm not sure how to describe what's down below I'm not trying to be offensive.

So, the event of Ingo being sent to Hisui happens before the events of Black and White. Except it's not a he-was-gone-for-months-or-years kind of thing. He just blips, faster than the blink of an eye, but being in Hisui felt like an eternity to him. He's still in his Subway attire after the whole ordeal, still has his Pokemon, and most importantly, still has his memories. He remembers everything about himself, but also recalls forgetting everything in Hisui.

Now I'm imagining this could happen when the twins are on the Multi Train waiting for a challenger for instance. They're bored out of their minds, with Emmet impatiently tapping his foot and Ingo nearly falling asleep. Then just as Ingo closes his eyes, Hisui happens, and he's jolted awake with a choked gasp.

Emmet is of course frightened, frantically asking Ingo what's wrong. But the older Subway Boss is in shock and clearly distressed. Ingo can only clutch his chest as he gasps and wheezes for breath. He feels as though his heart is pounding too fast for his body, he's suffocating. Can't breathe. Can't get enough oxygen-

But he's alive. His heart is beating, he can feel the cold chills through his body, the trembling... He's not dead out in ancient Sinnoh. But he still can't calm down. He's freaking out about what happened to him. Was that some weird nightmare? No, he swore everything was real. The Zoroarks, the Alphas, Giratina, Arceus, the fear still made itself home in his brain. The Pearl Clan, his Pokemon, Lady Sneasler, they created a warm fuzzy feeling in him for a split second as he recalled them. And yet he remembered all those cold, lonely nights he'd cry alone to himself for the man who looked like him, his twin brother Emmet.

And Ingo breaks down crying right then and there. He's so overwhelmed from emotion, unable to process years of events and emotions and memories in just seconds. He's hyperventilating, crying choked sobs as it feels like his poor heart is going to give out. Was he really in Hisui? He was back in the subway train, wasn't he? Like nothing ever happened? Did Arceus rip his soul from his body for that split second, and that's why his body is utterly convinced he's going to die-

And through the gasping, the crying, his heartbeat pounding in his ears, he hears Emmet's voice call out to him worriedly but calmly through it all. Ingo held onto that voice like a lifeline. It had been merely a few seconds since he heard his twin's voice, yet it had been decades. He clings onto his baby brother for dear life, registering that he's right here, Emmet is right here, and Ingo is at his side. Emmet had given up on trying to ask Ingo what's wrong, now only concerned with helping Ingo calm down. Ingo's a crying mess for a long time, but he eventually cries himself out, now too tired to keep sobbing.

Emmet takes that chance to ask Ingo if he's ok. Ingo replies that he's unsure. Physically he's fine, but... He shudders and leans against Emmet more. Emmet asks him to elaborate. Ingo was positive that Emmet would think he's gone crazy, but Ingo was so shaken up he didn't know what else to do. He explains everything, the events of Hisui, feeling like he wasn't even in his own body for a split second, and forgetting his own twin. Ingo gets choked up again and Emmet reminds him to breathe.

Even though the whole experience was traumatizing, the only thing Ingo could focus on was that he forgot Emmet. His memories are still intact now, but he knows he forgot him in Hisui. And for some reason, that terrifies him more than any space-time anomaly. He weakly chokes out that he didn't want to forget Emmet again. He could forget trains, he could forget Unova, just don't take his brother away from him again.

Of course Emmet is caught off guard by all this. But his normally unshakable brother was breaking down in his arms, and he had never seen Ingo this upset in his entire life. If Ingo had a reason to be upset, then what he said must be true, because Ingo wasn't acting like himself at all. They're Subway Bosses, they've seen it all.

Emmet reassures Ingo that he believes him. His distress his valid. But Emmet also proposes an idea. He'll remind Ingo that he is Emmet as often as he can. And from then on, he'll make a habit of saying "I am Emmet" at the start of every other sentence, for Ingo's peace of mind. It becomes such a habit, that he even says it when he's not talking to Ingo. He starts using a sort of script when introducing himself to passengers, saying "I am Emmet. I am a Subway Boss. I like Double Battles. I like combinations of two Pokemon. And I like winning more than anything else." He starts using short and brief sentences to describe himself to anyone new to him, as well as using it to keep Ingo grounded whenever he has another panic attack about his memories.

And even years later, even after the events of Black 2 and White 2, Ingo still finds comfort in hearing his little brother say "I am Emmet."

This got waaaaay out of hand but I needed somewhere to jot my thoughts

[whalesforhands]

what’s yours is mine (5/?)

previous masterlist next

pairing: geto suguru x reader x gojo satoru

You don’t know a lot of things, and you readily admit that. What you do know, is that the friends you’ve made aren’t something you will ever regret. Until your physical body weakens and becomes nothing, you’re more than happy to give your all until you wither away.

What’s yours can be theirs, too. They’re your friends, after-all. (Omegaverse AU)

Oh. That’s bad. That’s really, really bad. You don’t need even Mama to tell you that, don’t need her to say anything more when all your nose can pick up on was the overwhelming stench of sour milk and rotting fruit.

Yet, you ask anyway. Just to confirm. Just to see, to test the waters. You know lying is bad, but you’re not exactly averse to actually doing it.

Maybe you just aren’t that good of a kid.

“Does that mean that it’s bad?”

She snaps out of it, eyes losing their glossed over fear and realization dawning on her face as she immediately slaps a hand over her mouth, a look of evident shock and restrained worry making you stare on.

You haven’t seen her so… Panicked. Not that you remember any moments that she had been, anyway.

(Do you not watch her enough?)

“Sorry… I’m sorry…” Her hand shifts up, trailing her face until she was holding her forehead and releasing the breath that she was holding, voice trembling on a note so deep-seated in terror that you just can’t ignore it. You see her shoulders slumping and her eyes darting towards the new carpet on the floor, to the creaky old table as her body shook with just that tiniest uncertainty all along— Before her pretty, shifty eyes finally landed on you.

You can hear a sigh of relief.

“I-It’s not bad at all. No. Not at all. It’s just what some people say.” It was like she was assuring the both of you with staggered sentences that struggled to complete themselves.

Like she was jumbling, voicing words together just as they form in her head. Like she was just saying whatever was racing through her head as you catch the glimmer of sweat on her skin.

You’re pretty sure it wasn’t that hot in here… You helped her adjust the heater just now.

“You shouldn’t listen to them. Never,” She has to steady her shaking words, steady her stumbling, clumsy way of speech as the tension in the space finally lifts when she scrunches her eyes close, able to breathe easy again as she whispers those words to you. “Never listen to anyone who speaks that way.”

You blink.

“Not even you, Mama?” A tilt of your head as you’ve long gotten off of your chair, Pokemon printed socks padding towards her until your fingers lightly tapping her lap as a way to signal that you wanted to get on.

You think she really needs a hug. It always helped when you were on the verge of tears yourself.

“No…” She finally lifts her head, her hands reaching down and patting your hair as your eyes follow the trembling pen she still clutched so desperately. “Not even me, darling.”

You can see her twitch, watch as that same pen she had been clasping onto all this time finally fall out of her hands and tumble onto the recently bought, recently cleaned— And much softer carpet.

You were waiting for that to happen.

So you chase after it, crouching down to be able to pick it up, before running back into her arms under her watchful gaze and crawling onto her lap the next.

“Thank you.” A kiss to your hair and a pat of your head as you wrap your arms around her waist, face falling into contentment at the feel of being able to bury your face into your Mama’s softness. You can feel the way her sweatshirt feels warm and fluffy against your cheek, a fuzziness in your chest making you yearn for more pats and to hear her soft voice lull you into a sweeter comfort.

Though, your curiosity never sates.

“So is it not nice to be an omega?” You’re not exactly careful, not exactly getting the memo that it wasn’t something you should pry too much on even after that reaction. “Mama, do you hate being one?”

You’re just a kid, after all.

“It’s fine to be one,” A stroke of your head as her tone finally returns to that soft, gentle coo that you liked hearing so much. Albeit just that tiniest bit shaky. “Omegas are rare. You won’t see many around.”

“So…” Your eyes blink up at her, a small bit of an excited smile playing on your face when you realise your Mama was— Is special. “You’re like finding a Gold Machinedramon in a pack of Digimon cards?”

Now she is the one blinking at you, eyebrows furrowing momentarily with brief, apparent confusion as her hand stopped stroking your hair.

“Yes… Exactly like that, sweetie.”

You knew it. Satoru showed off his to you recently, your eyes glimmering at the way he had held that precious card up to the shining sun as Suguru could only sigh in the background.

“But being an Omega isn’t all that good.” You can feel her lean a cheek against your head, tenderly hugging her arms around you tighter as she speaks. “And some people might… Only love someone else just because they are an Omega.” She clears her throat.

“Or an Alpha.”

“Mn…?” What does that even mean? How can you love someone simply based on just that? But to be fair, you’ve seen cartoon characters get married because they kissed a frog.

“You shouldn’t befriend people like that— Or let them love you, okay?”

Huh? You don’t exactly get it, but it does sound like she’s right.

You feel her chest vibrate with a chuckle. “You’ll know a lot more when you’re older.” You can feel her pinch your cheek as you pout. “You should be worrying about what you want to eat for dinner later.”

When you’re an adult, huh? You don’t really like being told that, not even by your pretty Mama. Yet her last sentence still tugs a little too hard on your thoughts, pulling you into a state of worry and reassurance.

Because Mama doesn’t need to be anything more than your Mama for you to love her.

“I’ll love you even if you’re not an Omega, Mama.” It’s real, and your promise to her as you take another breath in at her scent, still wafting with the remnant aftermath of soured milk, yet slowly calming into waves of the sweet honey you love.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Her fingers comb through your hair as you hum contentedly. Afternoons after school might become your second favourite part of the day after walking to school with Suguru in the morning.

“So which one should I be, Mama?” It’s your final, whispered question. You don’t know if she heard it, don’t know if it was even audible from how muffled you were as your face is pressed directly into her chest.

Her mindless, aimless petting of your head stops as you feel her lean back to be staring down at you. It’s hard to discern, hard to tell what emotion was in her eyes. Yet, it was evident, despite how small it was, or how insignificant it would be to another person.

Her eyes were definitely wet.

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll love you no matter which one you end up being.”

(“Oh, and I want cheese hamburg for dinner today!”

A soft giggle.

“Alright.”)

You’re still stuck on it, though. Even as your eyes are narrowed at the ground and Suguru’s scarf is wrapped tight around your neck... All whilst you’re poking at the concrete walkway with a stick you picked up from the ground, as cold as it might be.

Ambiguity. Maybe you should make that your new enemy. Your sworn foe who you can vow to defeat in the final battle. It fits all the marks needed to be one too, right? A cool name, hard to spell… And the fact that you don’t quite like it for terrorizing you right now with the unfamiliar and the uncertain.

Even the cold spring air isn’t enough to make you forget. This season was ambiguous too, you think. The moments right after winter when the trees are still bare and there just wasn’t enough flowers blooming to call it spring just yet.

You can’t even call it winter either. There’s no snow, the air isn’t as cold, your breath can’t be seen— You don’t like ambiguity. Not one bit. So you hope that either Satoru or Suguru are already waiting at the—

“Gah, goddamn midget fuckin’ sized playgrou—“

That’s not a child. Or even anyone you recognize as a matter of fact. A stranger. A stranger had made his way into the playground that Satoru claimed nobody else was allowed into.

(Though to be fair, you did also trespass.)

He’s big. That’s probably the second thing you notice about him when your smaller feet are trotting up towards him. Maybe he’s too big for both your and the playground’s liking, that’s why his butt won’t fit comfortably on the seat.

You will speak for the things that don’t have the will to speak for themselves! That’s… What the magical girl said on that anime yesterday. You think.

“…it’s cause you’re too big, mister.” Mama would scold you for approaching a stranger like this. But you’re more intrigued by the fact someone had actually defied everything Satoru had told you about this sacred space, had dared to bully your beloved play area!

(With the power invested in you, you will…! Probably try to get him to stop kicking the slide with his dirty shoe.)

He broke all the rules. You’re sure most adults can read, right? Did he not see the big sign and really, really long letter of notice that you can’t quite read well yet?

Maybe he has trouble reading too. It is pretty hard.

You hope that’s not insulting to say, though. You’ll apologize later… But first you wanna know why this stranger’s all bruised and patched up with seemingly hundreds of bandaids as he grunts and scowls at inanimate playground infrastructure before locking his eyes onto you.

His hair is really dark.

“The hell? The fuck you doing in ‘ere—“

“You say a lot of bad words too.” You’re blinking up at him with a blank look as you continue, curiosity whirling through your head. Is this an adult too? “Your Mama would be sad if she heard you say that.”

Your eyes catch a glimpse of the small little tag on the leather bag so casually hanging off of his too big arm. You can’t exactly catch his name, but you recognize that it definitely… Probably was from this area? You’re not really sure. Nor have you walked anywhere past the playground, the market with your Mama… Or school.

But you do know that he looks pretty old. Mama did mention once that there’s a lot more older kids here than ones your age. He’s definitely one of those.

So… He’s an older kid that looks like an adult? How ambiguous, now that you think about it. An ambiguous ‘adult that’s not really an adult’ who looked like he doesn’t know how to react to you as his eyebrows furrow and his nose twitches, eyes glaring down at you before it suddenly clicks in his head at the way you had so fearlessly stepped inside.

“Tell ya what,” He doesn’t lean down, doesn’t squat to be at your height as he crosses the bruised skin of his slightly roughed up arms. He’s quite scary, if you think about it. “I won’t tell that Gojo kid you let me trespass if ya don’t tell anybody ‘bout me. Especially if you see some piss ugly punks who look like they got beaten up real bad ‘round here.”

You blink. Did you just get… Scammed? Is this really your fault? Were you at fault for not chasing him out? But to be fair he has a point. You don’t exactly know what Satoru would do if he did find out this very big man stepped more than ‘one of his dirty toes!’ into his playground.

And honestly? You don’t think neither you nor Suguru would be able to talk your stubborn friend out of demanding capital punishment for this stranger. You would definitely need more than the 13 cookies you watched him gobble up only a couple days ago.

Take the deal. It’s for the greater good, you think. Whatever that means. Heroes say it all the time, no?

“Okay.”

(You’re a hero now.)

And that’s how you ended up sitting on the swing seat next to him. Don’t get yourself wrong, he’s definitely scary, definitely looks like he could throw you around with one pinky finger.

And kind of reminds you of those delinquent characters you saw in the movie at Suguru’s house when his Papa had left it on accidentally.

Maybe you can ask if he’s a villain? Or if he’s a gangster. Would he have cool tattoos like in that movie? Maybe he’s got a metal bat stored away in that old bag of his.

“Mister, are you an Omega?” Yet, that’s all that you end of asking, all that passes your thoughts once more. The talk of these types of things within your home, within your school, on newspapers and on TV… It’s the best question that would best cure you of the knowledge itch.

Cause older kids like him should know more than you, right?

“This what kids talk ‘bout these days?” He sounds… So monotonously unfazed. “Don’tcha got better things to rattle on about?”

Honestly? You do. But your horoscope said that today was a day that you shouldn’t leave things unanswered, for they could bring about ‘unfortunate circuses’ or something like that.

So you ask anyway. You don’t know if you’ll really like a circus. Especially if it’s a bad one.

“No.” Your sandals kick up the sand below you, outsole making trenches on ground. “Don’t you have better things to do than get injured?”

Silence. A crow caws in the background as he narrows his eyes at you.

“Annoying brat, ain’t cha?” A huff out his nose as his words become as dry as the air, his head leaning back to look up at the darkening sky. Maybe it’s just you, but you also don’t like how the orange glow disappears all too quickly when you’re too wrapped up in your head to appreciate it.

At least it makes the shadow you casted on the ground longer and longer— Yet not quite as big compared to his.

“I’m an Alpha.”

Woahhhh. You don’t think you know any other Alphas past Geto-mama. Maybe that’s why he was so big. Geto-mama was definitely really tall. Though, you don’t think you’ve ever even seen an Alpha go to a playground for children.

“Is it fun?” It sure doesn’t look like it for him. You thought he’d be happy to be what was seemingly the strongest willed one. The one Mama talked about first.

(He could definitely find a Gold Machinedramon way faster than you, right?)

“Heh. Ain’t no way, kid.” The scar on his lip looks kind of cool, you think. He leans back, those scruffy bangs of his finally moving out of the way enough for you to be able to catch the shimmering green of his eyes.

He really did have a big shadow.

“Alphas are some of the biggest losers out there.” The way he speaks has too much spite, as if he sounded defeated as you watch his hand pat his thigh as if in search of something— All for naught.

“Ah, fuck. I’m out.”

A softer swear under his breath that you would have caught had it not been for how distraught you were at his words.

“But when I get bigger—“

“You won’t like most of ‘em when ya get bigger either, kid. They’re assholes. Every single last one of them rat bastards.”

Oh.

That’s quite the revelation. But at the same time, you feel something akin to a lump in your chest, an unsteadiness to your heart. You know it’s not tears that were threatening to spill, know it’s not panic-stricken fear that will leave you shaking like a leaf. In fact, you recognize it the best nowadays.

Uncertainty. A knowing doubt. Ambiguity. Your worst enemy.

“That’s not true, mister.” Your feet lift off the ground as you start to lightly swing again. “Alphas can be nice people too.”

You would know. Geto-mama was different, was not anything like he had just described. You like her— Love her, actually. She’s been nothing but good to you in the few years you’ve met her.

A kind lady. Your Mama says it’s hard to get Geto-mama to stop talking sometimes, though.

(You should ask for her astrology sign later. Just in case the news says she’s gonna have a bad day. It’s good to have someone warn you if they’re unlucky that day.)

“That so, huh?” He’s looking at you now, letting his lips stretch out into another smug grin with an uncharacteristic softness in his eye. “Then I hope to see how that shitty mindset of yours holds up when ya get older, kid.”

He’s kinda cool. He would probably make a really good drawing for someone. But—

“You said another bad word.”

“…you been keepin’ track?”

“Mhm.”

The sunlight finally fades when he sighs, the heels of his beaten loafers digging into the sand below as the metal of the chains squeak, finally free of his added weight. He stretches, arms behind his head as he yawns at the fading orange of the night.

“Remember our deal, kid.” His back faces you, only to turn his head only slightly, letting you see the scarred lip that you admired so much upon a grin. "And don't stay out too late out 'ere."

He wasn’t a bad Alpha either, you decide.

——

“Tch! That old man down the street’s a scammer!” Gojo Satoru is pouting, chubby cheeks puffed up with narrowed eyes and stained lips as he pokes at the supposed, promised ‘strawberry’ flavoured ice. “There’s no difference in this one either!”

“He only made them different colours. The melon one tastes the same too.” Geto Suguru is pulling away once he’s had a bite of all three, a hand dabbing away at the remnant sweetness on his lips.

“Was he too lazy to make more because it’s still cold? Mmm... Maybe we should've asked Kimiko-san to bring your shaved ice machine instead."

“No way! She would’ve said that I couldn’t eat it with any syruppppp!”

“That’s cause y’er meant to be on a sweets ban, Satoru. Didya manage to even get it lifted even a little bit?”

“Hmph!”

“So you didn’t.”

“Hmph!”

And there you were, sat upon the playground’s deck, hidden from the sunlight and protected by the shade as you poked at the supposed ‘blue hawaii’ flavoured shaved ice treat.

It doesn’t really taste ‘blue’ or very ‘hawaii’. Not that you know what either of those taste like. Though, you’re not quite bothered by the fact that it tastes oddly similar to Suguru’s green coloured ‘melon’ one as Satoru pokes your mouth with a spoonful of his own ‘strawberry’.

“Heyyyyyyyy! Pay attention to us! Ya can’t daze off when we’re discussing important stuff!”

You’re still bothered by it. Even as your mouth parts to allow the spoon to be shoved not so gently into your mouth, even as you chew in thought as a head lays upon your shoulder and Suguru wiping your mouth with a handkerchief already pretty stained in blue, green and red.

“I’ll love you no matter which one you end up being.”

Ah, your old enemy. Ambiguity. You find it quite troublesome to be you right now, your eyes closed in focused thought and a hand on your chin to sell the look. You can’t just suddenly be okay with any one of them just because Mama said she didn’t have a preference.

It’s not because you think one is superior to another, not because you dislike all of them. Or worse; prefer one over another.

You just need to at least pick one to work towards being.

"Which one would you guys wanna be?" It’s sudden, very out of topic from the Digimon debate your friends were having as they practically hung off of you, tossing your hair about or lying on your shoulder… But you think they understand regardless. They always did, no matter how strange or irrelevant the situation may be.

(You’re starting to think they’re mind readers.)

“…is this because of what Tachibana said?” Ah. You’ve been seen through in a blink of an eye. Were you that obvious? Or was it just because Suguru had always been the type to notice this type of thing?

“You shouldn’t care too much about what someone like him says, (name)-chan.”

Satoru pouts beside you, a hand lightly smacking your shoulder as retribution as you feel him grab your face, pinching lightly at your cheeks as you finally look at him.

“Why’re ya even thinkin’ about other kids?” He squeezes your face for good measure. “We’re here, aren’t we?”

You blink, feeling mushed and very much squished. “Sorry.” You should’ve known they wouldn’t have liked this type of thing either. Maybe you should’ve read the air better.

“There ya go apologizin’ and not telling us what you think again.” A cross of fingers and a sudden flick to your forehead as you recoil back slightly, the only support being Suguru’s hands pushing you back up as your hands go up to be rubbing your reddening cheeks instead. “Don’tcha get tired?”

It’s an honest question on his part, his snappy way of talking and his huffy mumbling about how you need to stop that annoying habit of yours.

But you’re trying, you really are.

“I’ll give ya ice later if it still hurts.” That’s how he is. Geto Suguru who was kind and soft and always tried to soften the blows Satoru lands upon you.

Though, your black haired friend still tuts at him. “You shouldn’t hit her, Satoru.” He stops to really think about it for a moment, slow realisation in his words. “Save ‘em for others who deserve it.”

Their conversation is lost on you once again, your eyes only the slightest bit teary when you open them, blinking up at the both of them before you’re practically smooshed once again by the way they’ve decided to close their faces in on you, their own cheeks pressed against each other from how closely squished all three of you were.

“You cryin’?”

“Did Satoru squeeze you too hard?” Suguru’s brows are scrunched in worry, knitted together in anxiousness as he elbows the white-haired counterpart.

“O-Oi! I didn’t use that much strength—!”

It’s nice to have people worry about you, you think. It makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside as you feel them tap lightly against your face, pressing the cups of the chilly shaved ice against your cheeks as you simply… Slump forward and let it happen.

Friends are nice to have.

——

You’re finally 7 when you’re using a leg to push open the creaky metal gate, dragging a rather large basket of food behind you and grunting with each step. Mama did pack an uncharacteristically huge amount of food for all of you upon your mention of the mini picnic at the playground.

(But to be fair, you think all three of you do eat quite a bit combined.)

You’re excited. Not just for the food, but for how fun it would be, especially in spring amongst the pretty flowers that just started to bloom. A slight breeze passes by you, flowers blooming and scattering onto the crown of your head as petals fluttered down from the bright pink of cherry blossom blooms.

It’s pretty. So pretty. They blot and cover the plainness of the grey concrete beneath you, creating a path of blushing rosiness with every step you took.

You noticed that even the sunlight was gentle as it spots down from in between those bunched up leaves, so careful as they shine onto the ground. It makes your trek all the more delightful as you hum the tune to the morning news channel.

Ito Saya was quite the pretty news anchor… Even if she only mostly did the weather reports.

Though, you’re hoping that you won’t be too late, considering the fact that you’re the one lugging the rather large basket of treats there. Ah, whatever.

You just hope you don’t miss anything important.

And your eyes don’t deceive you when you witness the chill of spring become tangible in the form of a cute peck to the sakura petal stuck upon the winter child’s cheek.

You watch how the petals fall, how you think you’re forgetting to breathe properly as it hitches in your throat. Were you even blinking anymore? Your feet seemed rooted to the dirt beneath to admire them all the more.

“Is that enough yet?” Geto Suguru is grimacing at his friend, blushing just as pink as the flowers that had flittered onto his hair, petals dancing as they descend onto the hastily smoothed out picnic blanket.

“Mmm…” He had his eyes closed, arms crossed across his chest as the smugness doesn’t cease to stop. “One more would do!”

“Aren’t you being too greedy now?!”

“You’re the one who hit me! So ya have to kiss my boo boos!”

Ah. The pretty moment is ruined, so you can’t help but giggle as you watch from afar. Your friends are the sweetest.

“(nameeeeeee)!” Your snowy-haired Satoru is immediately on his feet, his sandals long kicked off to the side as he waves an arm at you. “Suguru kicked my face!!!!!”

It comes out as a whine, a complaint. Even if he had made the poor boy make up to him and console his pain.

“I didn’t even kick that hard!”

“Ya you did! Gimme all your cake if you really wanna say sorry!”

Your friends are truly the sweetest, you think. When Suguru is the first one dragging Satoru over to help you with your basket, when you’re watching as the blue-eyed boy pouts about the sting on his face, and even when you’re giving Suguru his hug in greeting first, letting him smile into your shoulder as you hold him tight.

“(nameeeeee)! Gimme mine next!”

Your friends are truly sweet— Especially when you mimic the shy kiss Suguru had given to the apple-cheeked boy that had shied away the moment you smiled so brightly at him.

You couldn’t ask for more.

“I’d wanna be a beta with you, you know?” Suguru’s talking through a mouthful of sandwich, cheeks stuffed to the capacity as he tries to push even more in.

Manners are mostly forgotten when not in the vicinity of an adult. And even more so if it was to answer a question you had asked a week ago.

“But… I think Beta would be good, right? It’s in between and has the most balance.” Balance in the sense that— You haven’t heard anything negative about it yet.

“Maybe I should settle on that?”

“Ya both think too little!” There’s a shift, bare feet stepping against the plush softness of the rather well made blanket when Gojo Satoru stand up tall on his own two feet, the shine of his eyes behind fluttering white lashes making you stare a little too hard.

He’s so cute.

“I’m gonna be an Alpha and make both of you my servants!” He has a triumphant huff to his tone, an all too confident posture in his stance as he points a demanding finger at the both of you.

“He’s got some imagination.”

“Mama says it’s cute when we act like babies.”

“Hey! Are ya both listenin’ to me?!”

But their replies have you stopping to think for a bit. How would you know what you would end up as anyway? Is there a way to tell? Would astrology have anything to do with it?

Maybe you need to watch the news a bit more.

“Huh? (name)-chan. It’s smell, isn’t it? That's how you tell.” Suguru’s tilting his head to the side as he watches your eyes blink back into focus, waving a hand in front of your face in efforts to bring you back.

They’re really good at reading minds.

“No, ya dummy. Y’er talkin’ out loud.”

It’s better to believe in magic. The mystical is definitely more fun, and you definitely wanna be a fairy someday. It’s gonna be—

“Satoru.” Your nose twitches when he leans over you to reach for the cream puffs he had Kimiko-san prepare. “You smell like sunlight.”

Maybe different people had different smells.

“Is there anything?” You’re sat on your knees with your arms stretched out to the sides in front of them, barely audible but just enough so for the wind to whisper your voice into their ears, watching as Suguru’s bangs sway with the branches of that familiar tree you were all sat under.

"Can't really make out anything on you, actually." Suguru's face is pressed into your hair from behind, his nose taking decisive whiffs to help answer your question. "All I can smell is that shampoo you and your mama use... Satoru, any luck?"

“Mmm…” His nose is nudging against the side of your neck, taking a deep whiff of the skin before he pulls back. “S’ not that there’s anything actually—“ He dives in for another, his soft face against your own as you hold his shoulder to steady him.

You can feel how the strands of Suguru's hair was brushing against your nape, his palm now resting on your shoulder as his free hand brushes through your hair.

You see crystal blue peek up at you, before leaning back to hold his chin to scrutinize a bit more.

“Hmm… Water, maybe?” His eyes are closed in stark thought as white hair is caressed by another swirl of spring wind. “Can’t really get anything past that, though.”

Oh. You had no smell then. Nothing.

"It's okay. It's enough that you smell nice to us."

You hear him— Suguru say that pretty often, actually. Words that keep affirming you that it’s enough because it’s them, that you don’t need to go any further than that.

“Isn’t it enough that it’s for us?” He taps against the neatly wrapped plastic that held the cookies that Mama had helped you to bake in advance in attempts to make new friends within the classroom.

“Why’d you need it for the other kids?”

You want to have people who like you at the very least, even if you can’t make friends with them. That’s why.

“Hmm… Don’t you think Satoru would be mad?”

Maybe Geto Suguru was just that type of friend. Almost as clingy as your Satoru— Yet not quite letting you see what he truly was thinking. He’s always been quite polite; with you and the others around him.

Yet, you can’t help but feel like there’s something else behind his words, his actions— And his demeanour. You just can’t quite place an ascertain finger on it even when he smiles at you and blows a petal off of your hair.

So gentle. So pretty. He kind of reminds you of your Mama, if you think about it.

"Okay.”

And he looks content with your reply, his arms hugging around you briefly before they pulled away.

He’s really warm.

“Well? Ya have your answers now?” Satoru’s tilting his head at you before he drinks directly from the bottle of juice Suguru had brought, downing the apple juice and completely disregarding the cups Kimiko-san had so graciously prepared.

Maybe? Probably. You don’t really know for sure when you’re curling your fingers into a fist and back into a splayed hand.

It’s enough for now.

previous masterlist next

[siereads]

Celestial Monsters Review Notes

Notes under a read more due to spoilers

I'm so mad at Xio. HE COULD HAVE MADE A CHOICE. HE HAD FRIENDS. TEO AND NIYA WOULD HAVE MADE THINGS WORK. Gonna shake that kid until he sees he's been manipulated because holy hell. Mala Suerte may not being his biological father, but he's still his *Dad* dammit.

Huemac being proud of Teo does not shock me. That mans KNEW Teo wasn't capable of killing.

Teo: it's the end of the world. My dumbass: as we know it! And I feel fiiiiine! While Niya rants about wanting to beat Xio to a pulp

Aurelio's older sister, Brilla, is baby and I love her. The actual compassion, gentleness, reassurance, and support she showed Teo, Aurelio, and Niya was very much needed. Teo also needed to be told by someone that had been in his position that he had done the brave thing.

Xio, you're a dumbass. Baby boy, they is using you, wake up and smell the shit. Also, what y'all are doing to Dezi and Marino especially is cruel beyond measure.

Auristela, please, baby girl, shut your goddamn mouth.

Xio out here testing my patience. I know he's fictional and a child but good gods is he testing my goddamn patience.

Oooh we love a good, hastily abandoned, creepy ass town after a sleep over in the creepy ass desert cabin.

Teo, now is NOT the time to be horny.

I feel like, at this point, Teo just needs a tattoo across his forehead that reads "The Plan Guy"

Niya needing reminded who she's the daughter of and what her skills are is exactly why Teo is The Plan Guy xD You go girl, beat the fuck out of those sentient rocks.

Niya: I've changed my mind about helping people. I don't like them anymore

Me: Girl, same.

Niya breaking down sobbing because she doesn't think she's strong enough to pull off this mission is making my heart hurt. Someone give this sweet angel baby a soft, fuzzy blanket, a warm cookie, and a hug jfc.

Also. I do appreciate the reminders that these kids are just that, kids.

Just got me over here singing that Xio is a dick. I'm hoping someone slaps some sense into that kid. Like goddamn.

Teo, sweetie, stop getting so defensive. Being underestimated isn't always a bad thing in the literal end of the world.

Niya is the most ADHD coded little shit and like, dammit, mood. I too would have been playing with the good luck charms because ooh smooth and make click clack sound.

Mala Suerte is giving Giles with his shade. I am so fucking here for it.

This mans is fighting for his life talking to these dense ass children and I just...oh Mala Suerte, you poor, poor, sweet, scary man. May peace find you because otherwise you'll be stuck with these three morons for another 6 hours.

He tried so damn hard for Xio. Tried to protect that baby and raise him with love. Even now he still has hope for his son. Xio might not be his blood, but he damn sure is Suerte's kid.

I'm glad the trio got a glimpse into who Suerte really is as a person and how much care the man has. He deserves to be seen for the complete person he is instead of just the assumptions everyone else puts on him.

Oof. Just...oof. Xio, baby, you feel like shit because you know what you did was wrong. It's why Teo's voice is still in your head like a weird Jimminy Cricket. Baby. You are being MANIPULATED. Venganza does not care about you beyond what he can use you for.

Boys. Boys, now is NOT the time to flirt.

I love gay panic

Okay, who are you feral jungle child and how did you know the big scary monster that mimics crying babies wanted to play fetch? Am *I* hallucinating? What the actual fuck?

How did all of the gods miss a whole ass village out by Los Restos? One of the trials was literally just held out there. How do you miss a whole ass collection of people????

This is def making me think there's a lot more that went down with the OG war against the Obsidians. We're def missing pieces here.

Xio getting called tf out! Which needed to happen cuz damn. Hopefully this is the tipping point?

Xio having a crisis of gender in the middle of the apocalypse they set off is genuinely hilarious because, fucking hell, what a goddamn mood.

But also, Xochi calling Xio and Atzi out like "we get it, y'all *like* eachother" is equally fucking funny.

I. Love. Atzi. She is BABY. Telling Xio to their face that they're only a monster if they chose to be and she just thinks they're lost right now? Sweet, precious, angel baby.

She right tho.

Seeing how this little village deals with "monsters" and being told they're just animals was def something the trio needed. Plus, I really love Paz and her patience in explaining it all to them

I hate how much Lumbre has destroyed Aurelio's sense of self worth. Abusive ass bitch.

WE GOT SMOOCHES!!!!!!!! Awkwardly clumsy smooches BUT STILL SMOOCHES

Niya bouncing back from her breakdown over Xio's betrayal to tease Teo about kissing Aurelio is why, once again, I'm reminded that she's my literal favorite.

Stela needs to learn to keep her mouth SHUT and Xio needs to wake up and smell the bullshit.

Me: anxiously waiting for Xio and their dad's monster to show up and attack the trio.

Xio: -pops up-

Me: Shit

-squints suspiciously at Xio- I can't tell if they're genuinely trying to give warning and help or if this is a trap. Please for the love of fucking everything let it be genuine.

XIO, MY BABY, YOU'VE COME BACK TO US!!! YOU'VE COME TO YOUR GODDAMN SENSES!!

Also, not at all shocked that 1. the owl witch's weakness was salt because, ya know, salt's a purifier and 2. Niya, girl, the net? Really?

Niya's begrudging acceptance of Xio coming back with them including the phrase "fine but I'm going to be a dick about it" is a vibe

Super glad Xio seems to be doing the right thing. Atzi's gonna be thrilled.

The gang being back together and teasing one another again genuinely made me forget for a moment that they were basically in hell. Ope. Thanks for the reminder Chupie.

Nope. Nope. No. Nuh uh. No. Absolutely fucking not. YOU CAN'T GIVE ME CUTE FIREBIRD FEELS AND THEN HAVE AURELIO PLAY FUCKING SACRIFICE. I FUCKING REFUSE

Jesus fucking christ I need to stop reading and go to bed...

Fantasma! My beloved! Trust that sweet little bean to give the most unassuming gift to Teo that ends up being the literal best thing in the middle of a battle they were about to lose.

And I'm fucking crying. Again. STOP GIVING ME FEELS

Hell yeah, kids! Fuck the system. Tear that shit down and build something better.

CAN WE STOP TRYING TO SACRIFICE OURSELVES??? First Aurelio and now Xio. Jesus, kids, stop. No. Bad children.

Awww, the bird army has arrived!!! Here for it.

Lmfao Auristela, baby girl, you don't even know where you're going. But also, Dezi and Marino are literally the cutest.

Daaaaaamn what a POWER MOVE, Xio! And ayyyyy on them realizing exactly who tf they are and who their real dad is! Proud!!!

Yesssss!!! Call in the parentals!!!

Teo screaming what I've been for the last few chapters xD fucking mood. E'eryone needs to stop tryna off themselves to save the world.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. NOT SUERTE!!!! -ugly sobbing like a little bitch- like, I get why he did it, I do, but dammit, that fucking HURT.

I understand why the gods left but I don't have to like it.

Yucca is def gonna be pissed when they all show up xD

Okay but that was a good ending AND I AM EMOTIONAL

[kimyoonmiauthor]

Reviews and Critiques and how to handle them.

So the second best treaties about this was Holly Lisle's Mugging the Muse (2000), which, BTW, I read much later, because she'd stepped down by then from Forward Motion. At the time I read it, it was free, but now it's paywalled, so it has gems in there, the most useful of which is don't jump on paychecks and budget. Learn how to do Writer Tax returns. Remember to truly LIVE to write better *cough Barthes should have known this one. And the last one is how to take critiques.

The one on critiques goes like this: She used scream and shout when she got critiques and sometimes cry. She'd go into the bathroom and scream and let her do this. And then force herself to act professionally. The BEST of us at this process still fucks up once in a while. The trick is to not fuck up too often.

This is my second best treaties I've seen and heard about it. The first treaties I ever learned about how to take critiques is from my former teacher/advisor, Thomas C. Joyce, who unfortunately died of cancer some years back.

I do remember the names of the people. But as I don't have permission to use their likeness and I don't want them to be harassed. The people who are living (as far as I know) I will not name. I am also including my own fuck ups, because it's only fair. But the core of this is mostly Tom Joyce. Who said something on the order of don't call me "Mr. Joyce, it makes me feel weird. Call me Tom."

He was my advisor at the Young Writer's Camp–a summer writing camp. For this reason, I'll call him Tom.

I wanted to write this treaties out because he never wrote it anywhere... and I might remember parts of it wrongly, but I 100% used this to post to Nanowrimo's first critique threads, and then for the critique forums, which served as the core of a lot of critique groups online?? (not sure about that). And I listed the rules he gave me during critiques. Also that there has been a rise in people who can't take or give critiques and they think doing so won't help their writing. So, I won't write it as eloquently as him, and honestly I'm writing this quite sad because I do wish it was his words here instead of my fuzzy memories of him.

Let me dip a bit into memory lane first, so you get a sense of who Tom was. Tom smoked. He knew he smoked a lot and didn't particularly care. He liked to give this lesson on perception. with music, showing that the simpler things in life aren't always first. And that the source of stories can come from anywhere–not just writing.

When I met him he was a bit portly, which he'd sometimes point out about himself and had salt and pepper hair, which was curly. He'd often talk about how he wanted to lose weight.

He had this calm and cool demeanor about him, but also warm. So when he gave you a critique, it felt like he was reaching into your writerly soul and he could pull out your intentions in an instant. He not only saw where you were, but more importantly, where you were going and intended to go. I aspired to be that sort of critiquer.

He never judged you on your process to write. He had no lessons about that. And he based the entire time around critiquing and making sure you had something for the group. If you wrote on clay tablets, I think he wouldn't care. He'd likely joke loosely about it, but he wouldn't care and say, can you share it?

We did not write the same genre. We did not have the same process to write by a long shot. I never really read his writing and since he was an advisor, he rarely talked about his own writing or boast. He was a cool character because he was HUMBLE and he pressed it into you that YOU MUST STAY HUMBLE at every point of the process. Brave enough to share, but humble enough to take critiques.

He loved anedotes. I probably got my love of making up extended analogies from him.

He was not just a good writing teacher he was the BEST writing teacher I've ever had. And fuck it—I've read a TON of ass novel writing manuals from Aristotle to the present and I've heard author interviews all over the best, I would rank him as the best.

He was so memorable that when I finally got something published he was on my top list of people to show because I'd promised myself I would do so, but when I looked him up so I could pass the story to him, I had found that he'd died of cancer. I was DEVASTATED.

The fact we didn't write the same didn't matter because his lessons around critiquing. His process was this:

You write. You get critiqued. You take the critique gracefully to your face. You learn to critique. You learn both of these processes and perfect them and apply them, and you get better as a writer. He had several large arguments for this process and why he didn't want it to be regimented into telling people how to write.

Remembering his lessons, I posted his loose list of critique rules to early Nanowrimo boards–I posted the first critique threads for first pages and queries, but never his justification for them, because I didn't think it was my place to, but he's not published it himself and I think the internet is forgetting. And I don't think we should forget Tom Joyce since he taught me some really excellent lessons that I think you need to know.

So loosely, Tom's treaties on taking a critique goes something like this:

On receiving a critique:

Stay silent when people critique you. No. Hold your tongue (Fuck, I'm really still working on this one).

Remember any time they put into the critique is a blessing.

Only open your mouth to fact check the person. If they think the US flag has green, you can POLITELY correct them.

Stop explaining your work before you give the piece. He taught me this one. I still struggle with it. I still repeat the advice, but I still have issues.

Do not argue with your critiquers. I've fucked this one up too.

Critiques aren't always right and sometime you have to divine what they are really getting at.

On giving a critique:

When you give a review try to balance the review out. You give 3 bad things, you give 3 good things list them out. Do a summary for your review. YOU MUST find something good to say about it.

Try to read the entire piece before you comment.

Honor the wishes of the author. If they don't think something is working, try to figure out why.

Do your best to separate "Not for you" versus objectively written bad.

Be SPECIFIC. That's more important than the length of your review. He drove this into me.

He argued, the more you critique other people, the better writer you become. And the more you consume, in general, the better writer you become. The more you recieve critiques, the better you become. It's a two-way process, not a one-way process.

His arguments are pretty much why I dislike the whole idea that people don't "have time to give critiques" and thus don't want to give one back. No. If you do 10,000 critiques and get better at them and get 10,000 in return and learn to apply them well, you get better as a writer. Focus on your craft and the writer you want to become.

And now you can see why even though we did not write the same genre, I did not know his writing work, I did not have a matching writing process, that I treasured his lessons. He also had this thing where he was super, super cool with however people wrote. He never, ever disciplined how one should or should not write. He simply said, produce the writing–that's the most important part. And then get it critiqued. We did do occasional writing lessons, but he never ranked that as important.

Now for his arguments on why he thought these things.

So, as a younger writer I struggled and still struggle quite a bit with the first rule. The shut up and listen to someone tear your baby apart.

How to Receive Critiques

First Rule: Stay silent when others critique you and NEVER argue with your critiquer.

His argument went this way: You, the writer are never going to win against a critic. Your entire existence is going to be criticism. You have choices. You suck it up, and accept it is part of the writing thus owning it. You incorporate the suggestion. Or you do better next time.

He had an anecdote, which he liked to tell about this writer who fought against a critic and screamed and shouted and the writer lost.

The result of you fighting against a critic, according to Tom, is that you gain a bad reputation. ALWAYS. Never fight your reviewers.

As Holly Lisle said, go scream into a pillow somewhere, but shut the fuck up and get off the internet. Don't post it onto boards. Tell a friend privately, but don't post it in public. Give yourself a set amount of time to get back to it.

He liked to say stop throwing stones at glass houses. It's not going to work.

No lie, his cool attitude over this still has me screaming at times, HOW DID YOU DO IT? I still try to override the impulse. It's so hard.

Second rule: Every time someone bothers to critique you it's a blessing.

They spent time, and effort consuming your product. As he liked to say THEY ARE A PAYING CUSTOMER. Treat your customers correctly.

And if they are not paying, they were paying their time with you. They cared enough about your work and you to give you a critique.

You have to suck it up and do better.

BTW, if you watch the Youtube Channel, Wait in the Wings, this argument comes up over and over again. When you fight the critics, you lose the majority of the time. When you honor they came to the show and did understand it,

They really cared about you and your art to do this, no matter how cutting it is. Learn to breathe, move on and figure out what to do next.

Third Rule: The only time you open your mouth AFTER the person is done, is on two cases:

The first is to say thank you. The second is to fact check something obvious.

There is no green in the American flag, for example.

DO NOT ARGUE WITH YOUR REVIEWER and don't use this opportunity to try to feel superior to them. WTF man, go back to shutting up. TT

I still struggle with this. I'm swallowing my own feelings as I'm saying thank you. And I'm fighting the voices. And Tom acted like it was easy.

Fourth Rule: Stop explaining your work before you show it.

No lie, my other professors who have given critique sessions also said this. My typography teacher said this, which I keep repeating to myself, "Stop explaining your work. Say that you did the best that you could for the time you were given."

But Tom's logic went like this: Every time someone picks up your work, are you going to be beside them to explain what you MEANT by this or that. Will you be in their ear to talk about your intentions? Let them read the work themselves.

No, it's on you the writer to communicate it better.

Most of the time it's on you, the writer to do it better. (go back to rule number 1 on why).

Fifth Rule: No really, don't argue with your critiquers

It will only end in a bad reputation. Learn how to let it go. Move on. Either take the advice or leave it. See if it works, but at least try it. But arguing with your critiquers will result in nothing good.

How to Give Critiques

First rule: When you give a review, try to balance the review out.

If you give 3 bad things, give three good things, but remember that the person has feelings, so put the good things first. The best critique is good things, bad things, summary. We'll get into how to sort a critique later.

Tom liked to say, remember there is a human being behind that work. And that you won't get that mercy in real life once your work is "out there."

Second rule: Try to read the entire piece first before you comment and then make your comments.

This is your basic reasoning of trying to figure out what the writer is trying to achieve instead of hyper focusing on what they did wrong.

Third rule: Honor the wishes of the author

Spoken and unspoken. If they think something is not working, try to figure out why and some solutions one can do to fix it. Don't just say this thing is wrong. Figure out why. This process will make you also a better writer.

Try to make the piece in front of you better for the author, not how you would write it. He repeated this a lot so you got it. It's not about you and OMG, I would insert dragon here because I could do it better. No, face the piece in front of you and find ways to help the author where they are. You may ultimately disagree and they might not take your advice, but make sure it's about the author, not you.

Rule 4: Do your best to sort "Not for you, versus objectively written bad."

He didn't write romance, fantasy, or Science Fiction. It didn't matter to him or this process. Because there are some commonalities and if you read widely enough, you will know what is good or bad. Don't discriminate like that. If you're struggling with this go to the previous rule about honoring the wishes of the author.

Rule 5: Be specific as possible on why you like or dislike the item in front of you. This helps to sort it out later.

If you say, character is lame. That's not helpful. If you say I dislike the character is diving off the cliff without motivation and I don't know why and the physics don't make sense, that's a lot more helpful to the writer.

He would say too, that the more you're specific and drill down to why, the better you become as a writer. This is why DOING critiques is as important as receiving them. Do the best you can as a critiquer and be specific as possible. It will develop your writer brain and editor brain better.

And I should insert around here:

Revenge critiques are counter productive to you becoming a better writer.

He didn't say this. But I think he would agree given the previous treaties, especially on the idea that the writer is always going to lose.

OMG, you said info dump in MY STORY was bad. So I'm going to find every instance that you info dumped and point it out to you.

Your hurt feelings shouldn't be entering into critiques. Go outside, do something else, come back. You aren't in a place of learning. And sometimes what works for one story will not work for another. Sometimes people do it on purpose and go back to the previous rule about the intentions of the author.

The writer who never honestly critiques and revenge critiques and doesn't listen to critiques, never improves and gets better.

How to Sort Your Critiques

Sort them into these tiers/categories:

Grammar

If you're crying over grammar mistakes, get over it. Just take it and agree or disagree. Do better next time.

Facts

The Earth isn't perfectly round, but it's not shaped like a pear either. The Wizard of Oz wasn't originally propaganda. Greensleeves aren't written for Anne Boleyn. These usually hurt less, but often can dissolve entire stories. This is why you should research. Make sure every single quote is true and truly attributed. This is because facts in your story you don't want that to pull out the reader at any point and you don't know who might be reading it.

Core story issues.

This or that character doesn't work. The intention and impact aren't the same. These are the ones that hurt the most. These are the ones in critiques one should be careful of the most. And the ones that are going to hurt you the most.

The problem is often sort story issues are also the hardest to divine and the hardest to fix.

Critiquer might have had a different emotion from your intention, so remember what I said about being able to reach into other people's writing and figure out their intentions and then work with that? Yeah, this is where it comes in handy to make your own writing better. Sometimes they point to a thing, but it's not that thing.

Say comments are,

this character is boring.

This character doesn't do much.

I think this character is lazy.

But you've written the character on a hot summer day where they are baking out of their mind.

How do you punch it up to make it better? Your KEY ideas on why they aren't moving are "Hot summer day." So punch that part up and give more specific details so people get it. So people get that it's so hot people can't move.

And when the person said the character is lazy, the commentary feels more like deprication rather than true laziness.

That's how you divine the comments. It's not well, this character needs to change the entire scene so it has more action. It's how do I do this scene better so it communicates more.

BTW, Botchan by Natsume Soseki is a masterclass in how to get your character into total inertia such that you actively hate them, but at the same time you understand them.

Tom would say something like, once you get the critiques what you do with them is up to you. Ignore them, take them, but realize that what you don't take is likely to show up as a critique later.

Seeee... both critiquing and receiving critiques makes you a better writer. I'd also argue, it makes you a better person, too.

Short anecdote.

I was on a board and this writer was complaining about this review she had which said that the clothing she had was "inaccurate" and she argued that it was an other world fantasy setting so she could do whatever she liked. And she wanted to know if she should reply and get revenge on the critiquer. A few people were comforting her and egging her on.

I pushed against it gently by asking for the specific critique lines pretty much repeating Tom's advice on how to take a critique. The critique isn't always right, you have to divine, etc.

She stated she loosely based the costumes on a particular century of clothing. So I looked it up for her. I pointed out that stays during that century had changed a lot over time and the underwear changed the outer clothing. So it was possible the person was objecting to the underwear and the outer clothing not matching. I named the pieces of underwear that had changed during that time period and pointed out there is a huge difference for us for 1990's clothes versus the next decade. And that previous eras were no different.

What she needed was someone to cold sort the comment, point out she needed to do research and point out that sometimes physics can't be explained away by an other world.

Don't argue with your critiquers. Also, stop encouraging people to do this???

She ended up deleting her entire post. If you can't take critiques. Get someone to cold sort your critiques for you.

Haha. I have an awesome self-nominated writer's assistant who refuses to be paid, even though I tried to pay her. She knows me sooo well, when she gives a critique and I'm in writer meltdown mode saying, but I could do this or do that. She says in a flat voice, "No, you're going to do this and this is why." I hide this from the public, but damn. You need people like this in your life too.

'cause as much as I'm going off on Tom's rules, I also occasionally fail them. I'm still trying to be as calm cool and collected as he appeared to be about this sort of thing.

How to Know you're getting review bombed.

The account is brand new

All of the review ratings are at extremes. No 3 star reviews.

All of the reviews are targeted.

None of them are specific about the book.

The hazards of making the writer the primary marketer such that they have to do the job of 3 people: Writer, Publicist, and Marketer. Separate your modes. Compartmentalization. Learn it. It can be healthy.

But really, go back up and read. The writer is always going to lose. The more you care about it, the more likely you're going to be review bombed. Fighting reviewers never does you any good.

Bonus Round

The person that you're worried is better than you is probably thinking the same thing about you.

In another words, it's not a battle against others.

In my Young Writer's Group, I deeply admired this guy's writing for his ideas, how he was able to cobble things together with this sort of balance. And I had this kind of feeling like I could never do what he did. I mean he had this kind of deeper detail I felt I was missing. Plus his ideas—fucking clever.

All the time he'd come up with the "obvious" idea that I wanted to be able to write. It's the kind of stuff that you go, OMG, of course.

Flat out envy on my side. And then one day, I heard him talking about how was I able to come up with so many ideas so quickly to other people in the group and that he deeply admired my ideas.

I was shocked. I thought it was one way the entire time. Of course, honor code, not typing up his name, and not typing up his ideas, but the spirit of it is this: You're in a battle against yourself. Your critiquers when you're honestly facing them, and not say, trying to get enough points to post your work, are truly helping you, but you critiquing them is also helping you.

There's still a few of his ideas I keep waiting for him to publish, so I can do spins on them. I still hope he's writing, because writing is a community effort.

Stop being intimidated by other writer's brilliance and find your own. You'll get there too. But damn, I still want to see at least two of his ideas make it onto screen/in a book. I keep looking for him. A few of my former critique partners got published. Dave, hello. And another one that too recognizable by first and last name.

If you can't take reviews, don't read them.

This comes from repeating Writing Excuses episodes–people have writer's assistants do it for them.

I had mine (self-nominated one) look up rare cat breeds... but yeah, some people have them do normal things.

Sometimes writers ask agents to filter them for them.

All you writers, stop stalking Goodreads and writing reviews about your stories/books. I know, but it's not going to do much anyway and the more you care, the more likely you're going to get review bombed or pull a Cait Corrain.

Remember, One Star reviews can be good actually

One star reviews tell you how to improve your product. The maker of Instapot in an interview said he oly reads one star reviews.

Also, sometimes one star reviews have told me that I absolutely want to buy the product in question.

If there are 10 reviews of 1 star by white reviewers saying that white writer wrote it better and it's about say, Chinese history. That says to me, I want to buy your book. I want to understand why they think it's substandard. I want to see what you did to break away from the common popular narrative.

If there are a ton of negative reviews on a product that says this item is too small but I have dinky hands and I want the product to be smaller, that's also useful to know.

One star reviews are not the end to the world. People don't go by purely star ratings. They also look at what the reviews say and how they say it and which people think that review is accurate.

One star review that says they don't know how a story about Jane Austen in Outer Space turned into a sex comedy with a tentacle squid monster? Please, please give me that book.

Stop hyper fixating on star ratings. People often will judge for themselves if it's for them or not. And you pushing back, force deleting the reviews giving that sort of guidance isn't going to help you. As Tom said, you're going to lose, so lose right.

[lettersfromandie]

Slow Burn Melodrama: A Break from the Fast-Paced

Whenever I watch a Korean drama, sometimes I wonder how they structure and make the story progress so fast, that so much has already happened even if I'm still on episode 4 out of 16. It is not a surprise though since K-dramas are known to have a fast-paced build-up. I may have not watched most of what everyone has on their "Watched" list but I can tell that I've already seen a lot and they are mostly the ones that make me say, "What? Episode 2 pa lang marupok na si mareng Yu Na-bi ni Park Jae-eon?!" Cheka.

Seriously though, I've watched a lot of heavy and intense dramas (also recently finished The World of The Married) - which is also my liking but when I've already seen so much of that heavy-packed drama and conflict, I want to take a break. Not to mention, lately I've been super overwhelmed with school + org + household responsibilities so I wanted to find something, anything, that will serve as my breather.

Gasping for air, I was searching some music videos of K-drama OSTs because playing them are therapeutic for me. Then, I randomly discovered a really good soundtrack that led me to finding and watching my breather. The song is Rain or Shine by Elaine, from the K-drama, A Piece of Your Mind.

What exactly compelled me to watch the drama is this song and the scenes from timestamp 0:55 onwards in the music video. I was intrigued and fascinated of the mahinhin gestures and I can easily feel the tension when the person was silently watching the other from a distance. These are subtle actions that we don't really get to appreciate or take notice of because they don't seem obvious and deliberate. Personally, it's the little things, the subtleties, that soften me most. And I wanted to see it in third person.

I don't remember watching a slow-burn romance melodrama, so I guess this was a first. And since this was my first, I did not expect anything, but a precious Jung Hae-in that I know will surely melt my heart 😝💓 From not clearly understanding the background in the first two episodes, to realizing that there are other precious people aside from Hae-in's character, then gradually appreciating the sentimentality of a slow-paced development, and finally grasping the entirety of the story, here's what I can say about A Piece of Your Mind :

It's an underrated, heartwarming melodrama, which not everyone is ready yet to give the recognition it deserves. It gives me the warm fuzzies and the fresh air I had been longing for. Not only did it help me breathe better, it also made me appreciate the beauty of the quiet. Ha Won (played by Jung Hae-in) and Seo Woo (played by Chae Soo-Bin) showed that there's something so simple yet pure of looking at someone from afar - not expecting, but hoping, or maybe none at all. That there's so much respect and love of patiently waiting and giving them the space and time to take a break, to grieve, or to be at peace. No rushing, no forcing. 

This drama both calmed and fluttered my heart. Too precious, I can't take it 😭💗

There are also many scenes and lines that resonated with me. One of which is this:

Having a one percent chance on someone or something may be positive or negative depending on how we look at it. 

"At least I have one percent." 

"I only have one percent." 

Usually, it's the latter we tell ourselves. Knowing that we only have one percent can be disheartening and we tend to kill it since it's just close to none at all. But Ha Won reminds us to let that one percent be free. You'll never know, it'll grow when you leave it be. (So, Jung Hae-in, as long as you're alive, I'm still clinging to that one percent chance I have with you and leave it be. Chos. Nagbabasakali lang naman.)

There is so much understanding and emotional rawness portrayed in A Piece of Your Mind and I can't help but cry (I always do). I am relieved that this drama and its OST has somehow given me some healing. It has easily become my comfort K-drama and I definitely want to watch it again.

The perks of a slow-burn melodrama. Never fails to evoke such emotions. Letting us take the time to savor the softness and sensation of the slowness. If you need a break from the fast-paced, I can attest that a slow burn melodrama will give you a peace of mind. (Kahit mapapasabi ka na, "Three episodes left and wala pa rin kissing scene?"  HAHAHA cheka.)

Love, Andie

[bibli0thecary]

Daylight

pairing (s): jake lockley x reader

word count: 1.2k+

warning (s): fluff, jealousy, and lots of fluff

moon knight masterlist

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

His heart raced when you smiled. 

Jake could not believe what was happening to him. Seeing a beautiful smile on your face, it made him feel warm and fuzzy inside, scaring him a bit with the power you had over him. You were so pretty and so kind, and sometimes it made him worry that someone would take advantage over your kindness. But your big heart was one of the many things that he adored about you, and he would not change it for the world. 

He was not supposed to feel this way. 

He felt so undeserving of you, and it was as if he was dragging you into his darkened life. He had nothing good to offer you, and it would be a lie if he say he was not afraid of hurting you. He was not used to love and affection, but every time you said you were in love with him, his heart melted and a huge smile found its way on his face. He was happy with you.

You were like an angel in his eyes. He could not believe that you were in love with him. He thought you deserved someone like Steven, who would know how to treat you better than he could, being the sweetest one among them. But you fell in love with Jake, and not anyone else— It sent pride wrapped around his chest every time you looked at him with so much love in your eyes. Only him. 

“I got you flowers!”

No one had ever gotten him flowers before. It was strange to feel so appreciated like this, but he liked it, especially when you looked at him like he had given you the moon and the stars. 

“I’m supposed to get you flowers, Y/N.” 

“You did.” 

You responded casually, and he could only smile. He did get you flowers every day of the week, knowing how much you loved the gesture. And if he would kill to see you happy, getting you flowers every day was not a trouble to him. But of course, you would want to return the favour once in awhile.

“Do you like the flowers?”

Jake’s heart soared. He nodded, pulling you in for a kiss to show how much he loved the flowers you got for him. 

“You could give me a dead rat and I would still keep it forever.”

He said, making you laughed at his words. Oh, how could someone be so perfect? He questioned himself every time he saw your smile. 

“No, you deserve all the pretty things in the world. A dead rat isn’t pretty now, is it?”

You tilted your head a bit, grinning at him. Jake would die from the amount of love you were giving him, but he would not mind as long as he got to have your love. 

“You’re the prettiest.”

A sly smirk was dancing on his lips, as you hid your face in his chest, flustered at his compliment. But then you looked up at him, a shy smile was on your face, as you caressed his face. 

“Well then, it means that you deserve me.”

He believed you. Perhaps it was hard to tell himself that he deserved you, but now he never really questioned in anymore. He knew you would always come running into his arms, showering him with your endless love and adoration. 

Jake had never seen you angry. He started to believe that you were incapable of getting angry. You got annoyed at people sometimes, but never once did you blow up in anger. It was odd to know that you were very different from him, but it was a good difference. 

However, he finally knew that you were capable of getting angry. 

It happened when he was with you in the bookstore. Both of you were holding hands when you entered the bookstore, but then you got distracted by the books and let go of his hand like you always did. Jake could only sigh, shaking his head as he started to look for you. He could tell that you did not even notice that you had wandered alone, being too engulfed in your excitement. 

“Um, hello?”

He frowned as he turned around, only to find a woman who was smiling at him. He did not even try to hide his annoyance. He just wanted to find you, and now this woman was bothering him. 

“Are you looking for something? Maybe I can help you.”

“Do you work here?”

“No, but I can help you.”

She quickly said, and Jake almost rolled his eyes at her. He knew what she meant, with a flirty smile that she was flashing at him since he looked at her. He shook his head, not wanting to ruin his good mood by being annoyed at a stranger. 

“I’m looking for my girlfriend.” 

He blatantly said, his eyes wandered around the bookstore, still trying to spot you. He thought she would leave, but she put her hand on his arm instead, taking him by surprise. 

“You’re funny. I like you.”

She chuckled, and Jake was more than annoyed. It did not help that he could not find you, and now this woman would not stop flirting with him. Before Jake could say anything else, someone slapped her hand away from him. His eyes widen when he realised it was you, his sweet and kind girlfriend. 

“You’re touching my boyfriend.” 

Anger was dripping from your voice, and Jake had never heard you speak that way before. You stood in front of him, as if you wanted to hide him from the woman’s eyes even if it was impossible since he was taller than you. But the thought of you being so protective of him was fluttering his heart. 

The look in your eyes was frightening but the woman did not budge. She sent you a smile, thinking of it as a joke. 

“It’s not a big deal—“

“It is. Now stop staring at my boyfriend before I break your nose.”

At your threat, her smile dropped and she left without any other word. Jake could not believe his ears. Did his beautiful angel just threaten to break someone’s nose? He was a little bit worried to know that you could get angry if you wanted to. 

“I already told her I was looking for my girlfriend.”

You looked at him, softening your gaze as your anger disappeared. Suddenly, you were all smiles and giggles again, as if you did not just threaten to hurt someone a few seconds ago. Jake took your hand in his, not wanting to lose you once again. 

“I’m sorry that I let go of your hand. I didn’t notice.”

He grinned at you, still not believing what just happened. You knew what he was thinking, and you just rolled your eyes. He mentioned it once that he really wanted to see you angry, but you just laughed at him. It seemed like it was his lucky day. 

“I’ve never seen you so angry before.”

“I wasn’t angry, Jake.”

“You were. You were going to swallow her whole if she didn’t leave.” 

You just smiled, kissing his cheek softly. Jake let out a sigh of content, glad to know that you loved him so much that you would fight someone for him. It was shocking, but he loved it. 

“That’s because I love you.”

Your declaration of love for him always caught him off guard, leaving him smiling like a fool in love. But nothing could compare to when you smiled, love bursting into flame in his chest. 

His heart raced when you smiled. 

.•° ✿ °•. .•° ✿ °•. .•° ✿ °•.

a/n: I promise you I'm a Steven's girl but the idea of Jake being all soft on me and me alone makes me so happy <3

[gojos-thot-patrol]

what are the guys reactions to being spoiled with a spa day, fave foods, etc?

ooo, interestinggg I like it. ok ok,

Now Presenting...

Starring Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami, and Ryomen Sukuna.

Satoru Gojo

Early in the relationship Gojo is apprehensive. 

He’s not used to being spoiled, he’s used to doing the spoiling. 

But, as he gets more comfortable with the relationship Gojo loves to be spoiled!

He’s babygirl god damn it, and he LOVES to be treated as such! 

Hell yea he wants to go get facials! Yes, lets get manicures, he wants his nails blue 💙

He comes home and you’re making his favorite food? What did he ever do to deserve you?

Now, of course he’s going to repay the favor. You give him a day all about him, he's going to give you a day all about you

But on his day he’s basking in it! 

Honestly it just makes him feel loved and wanted. Like, he can do all of this himself, but the thought of someone else wanting to spoil him is intoxicating for him

Being spoiled makes him feel like you actually listen to him and pay attention, because you have to to know how to spoil him! It means you actually want him for him

Does it make him a little bit emotional? Yes. It’s ok though because he can be vulnerable around you

His love language is gift giving and acts of service, ok? This literally sings to his love language

In conclusion: Yes, Spoil Gojo

Suguru Geto

“No no darling, let me cook for you!” “Let me put a face mask on you, you deserve it” “Let me paint your nails instead, that color looks better on you”

Suguru straight up won't let you spoil him. He’s going to spoil you first.

Genuinely, being showered with unending affection and love makes him feel a little bit uncomfortable. He thinks he doesn’t deserve it

So any of your attempts to spoil him, he’s going to take over to try and spoil you instead

And this DOES. NOT. CHANGE. Even late into the relationship. 

Even once he’s comfortable with you, and knows you love and cherish him. Then there's no need to spoil him because he knows you love him!

He still spoils you though because at this point it’s second nature to him and he thinks it's nice to remind you how much you mean to him.

Yes he knows he’s a hypocrite.

No he doesn’t care.

If you really want to spoil him, just spend time with him. It will honestly have the same effect on him, minus all the other feelings

And maybe make him a spotify playlist

Spoil him with music, that he will let slide.

I feel like so much of my Suguru characterization is rooted in the fact that he loves music but I CAN’T HELP IT!! He reminds me of So Many People I‘ve seen in the scene, I can’t see him as anything other that a music loving metal head LMAO

Kento Nanami

Nanami is not opposed to being spoiled but it has to be on his terms.

What I mean is like, It has to be in small doses so he doesn’t get overwhelmed, not a whole day of spoiling

And if it's something like a really expensive gift, he’d want to talk about it first. He’d rather not have a lot of surprises. 

If you can do that, He’d actually rather like being spoiled

I feel like it makes him feel appreciated

And for almost everything you do for him he does something to match is I promise you lol

Nanami is a caretaker at heart, but that doesn't mean he isn’t willing to be taken care of

The best way to spoil him is with food though

Nanami is a foodie, cook him his favorite meal and it would make him feel really really special

Or sharing a nice bottle of wine with him. That's another way to make him feel special and loved, spoiled if you will

Honestly I don’t think Nanami would necessarily crave or need to be spoiled

But I do think that he very much appreciates it and appreciates you

It just makes him feel all warm and fuzzy

Ryomen Sukuna

Don’t. Don’t do it besties DON’T

Ryomen DOES NOT TRUST being spoiled, AT ALL

If he comes home and finds you cooking his favorite food, he’s going to assume you're poisoning him. “No, You can’t give me a facial, but I can give you one.” You ask to do his nails and he just holds up his black talons like “They’re already done.”

Sukuna has no idea how to love. He thinks love is possession, and as a wicked person he loves wickedly. What that means is everything comes with expectations when it comes to him, nothing is free.

So while you’re just trying to spoil him, he’s trying to find the catch. 

If you give him a gift he’s going to straight up ask “What do you want from me?” 

Back to the love is possession thing, He’s going to think you’re trying to possess him and he is not a fan of that. He owns you! Not the other way around!

He will honestly probably straight up tell you to stop LMAOOO. 

Does he want you to return his affections? Yes absolutely, You would want your pet to behave too. But actively trying to spoil him and bathe him in material affection is not going to do it for him, LMAO

He just reacts so badly. Like, have you ever tried to pet a feral cat? It doesn’t end well. Being spoiled just feels so opposed to his soul.

He’s tried his hand at spoiling you before and found he was actually quite good at it, ngl. Where his words fall short often his small actions and gifts speak louder. But He only really tries to spoil you when he’s trying to apologize for some wrong. If you spoil him, He’s going to think you wronged him somehow my guy 

The best way you can spoil him is by spending time with him. Just being around him and indulging in his, honestly much quieter version of love, that’s as close as you’re getting to spoiling him

Oh, that and just like, indulging him in sexy times, but THAT My dear reader is a set of headcanons for another day!!

[cowboyjen68]

Hi Jen, I have a question about types and butch/femme stuff. I’m a butch (or at the very least androgynous) and I’ve only ever been attracted to other butch/gnc/androgynous women. It’s what helped me realize I was a lesbian, because I was never attracted to femmes I thought I could never be gay. I’ve never seen feminine women as attractive and I don’t see why I ever would.

But I feel like I’m the only butch in the world who is exclusively into other butches. Every other butch I see/know is always with a femme, even the ones that say they are attracted to both. I already felt so isolated before coming out and now im stuck with that same feeling in a new environment.

Do you have any advice for anything like this? Or advice for feeling alone in our community?

(p.s. I don’t hate femmes, people seem to get this idea when I tell them they are not my type)

FIrst let me say to your PS. In no circumstances does not being attracted to someone or some type equate to hate. We like what we like and no one else gets a say in that. We don't need to exprience sexual or other physical or emotional attraction to someone in order to prove that we don't hate them. People that think that should probably be avoided because they are placing way too much pressure on others to push personal boundaries and that is unfair and even dangerous.

I know plenty of butches who are butch4butch and several are close friends. At least one or two have mentioned thinking the same kind of things you have dealt with, about butches only like femmes. My experience and my opinion is that butches and femmes exist seperately from each other. Ones does not rely on the other to exist. They are independant identities.

The majority of my lesbian friends are neither butch nor femme and date whomever they find attractive. I believe same goes for butches and femmes. We date and form relationships with those we find most physically and emotionally attractive to us. Plenty of butches don't dates femmes or even other butches.

When I broke up with my femme first girlfriend I convinced myself that I should like other butches because we could relate to each other more and I ended up with a butch for 17 years. THIS was a mistake. We were friends (sometimes) but really held no real passion for each other.

It is like we got so deep in trying to make our marriage last so as not to be a failure that we ignored the fact that neither of us held any attraction for the other. Once we addressed the face that we both almost exclusively attracted to femmes, or at least women more feminine than us we split up. She went on to meet and fall very much i happy love with a femme. I too went on to embrace my attraction to more feminine women.

My point is, do not fight your natural attraction. Don't let other people or any community tell you who or what you are supposed to be attracted to. Be honest with yourself and what ignites your passion. Who gives you the warm fuzzies and make you feel giddy.

If you have any chance to attend a women's festival or event I would suggest it. When I was young and struggling, still unsure what butch was or meant, and in fact having a lot of false ideas about it, seeing a lot of women of all body types and styles really helped me to see that I did fit. I met my first set of butches at one and was like "whoa.. I see me" and they showed me I could be just me.

It took me years to understand that also meant I could date whomever made me happy and not just the next woman who was nice. Or that I had to avoid my true attraction because that was acting "too much like a man" or being predatory to like feminine women. Listen to your own heart and find friends who will honor that.

[hatosaur]

tlou hbo ep.4 & ep.5 thoughts.

more analyze-y than the others ones because i’m talkin thru my damn feelings >:,(

getting ep. 4 outta the way real quick because it was mostly setting up for ep. 5 but also i didn’t get to rewatch it since last sunday so memory’s fuzzy.

i’ve seen people have mixed reactions to ep.4 and i get it, because it was so different to how it played out in the game. biggest breaking point from game-joel was a) him talking about tess (which i felt broke a rule for his character) and b) him being openly kind to ellie. being soft with her when she shoots the hunter. laughing at her joke. these aren’t the end of the world. i can see how it was all to show he’s warming up to ellie but it did still feel odd.

i do kinda get the sense that him being mean old joel would wreck the momentum and tone, since we’re not watching pre-rendered cutscenes sandwiched between gameplay segments. you can’t have the danger happening and THEN joel’s yelling at ellie. that’s just TENSION TENSION TENSION; him being nice and open was a good way to balance things out and give us (and ellie) a breather.

so ep. 5. i have to fuckin take deep breaths.

once again, i can’t fucking believe that i can know exactly what’s going to happen and this show will still floor me. i’m broken over the immediacy that henry killed sam with, different from henry talking out his thoughts in the game. his scared, stammered “what did i do?” as he looks to joel, because he can’t believe what he just did.

when i look back to game-henry, it wasn’t emphasized all that much that he was pretty much still a kid, taking care of a kid. show-henry had plenty of those moments. both versions are cocky but the cockiness show-henry has was more kid-like, especially in his interactions with joel, and it only made it hit harder when he looked at him in those last moments, as if for help, and when joel tried to gently get the gun away from him. i’m very glad for them amping up the connection between joel and henry.

the choices they made with sam were amazing. the kid was a great actor and i love seeing all the extra bits that came with him being deaf. i knew it wouldn’t matter all that much that he was younger and deaf; what mattered at the end of the day was his connection with ellie and they fuckin knocked it out of the park. i love that even without them being close in age, they latched onto each other anyway.

the bit with ellie’s blood was such an interesting change. because that was a stellar way of showing despite her maturity, she’s still a kid too. you can tell she really believed she could save him.

this coupled with sam’s superhero fixation...god. the thought of him thinking of her as a hero because of that.

another big change was showing ellie’s reaction to henry’s suicide, instead of joel’s like the game. in the game, i think it was to remind joel about the fragility and impermanence of good things. the show’s not really joel city, they can’t really keep it on him the whole time because that’s boring. not to mention, it’s about more than him. in the show, you can tell it’s to show the impact it’s going to have on ellie’s journey.

i wasn’t a big fan of kathleen initially -- felt she wasn’t intimidating enough as a leader -- but as we saw her more in ep. 5, i was disgusted with her, which is good! i do like the complexity of her, how she’s the leader of this big resistance movement but also seemed unsure and grasping in a lot of moments (of which surprisingly did not include the moments where she ordered people to be killed or argued that ellie and sam should die because “kids die”).

brief note, the child clicker was cool but like...a bit farfetched right?? i mean unless she was bit as a baby and has just been turning since then? aside from that, i do like that she foreshadowed sam’s turning in a way. kid infected is such a gutpunch.

another thing i liked were the parts ripped straight from the gameplay. just watching joel reach the house with the sniper in it caused a lotta moments where i was like “OH YEA THAT HAPPENED.”

WHEN THE INFECTED CAME OUTTA THE GROUND??? i was like “OH YEA THAT WAS PART OF IT.” this show’s great. i love seeing the funny ways they tie back to the game.

all the episodes have been good so far but it really seems like the odd-numbered ones have consistently been bangers.

NEXT ONE THO. JACKSON TIME. TOMMY. MARIA. LET’S GOOO >:)

[yukidragon]

I don't know how this site works and if this question has been asked before, but I can't stop thinking about it. After a night together with Jack, which was very significant for both of them, MC goes to open the door for Shaun and spends a lot of time with him, as if forgetting about the naked lover in the bedroom. She doesn't go to him to put him in a situation, but sits with Shaun and talks about crap. I don't know how to interpret it, but it seems sooo weird to me, What can that mean?

For this, I would like to draw attention to MC’s thoughts in the demo at a few scenes. First, here is their thoughts after Ian’s phone call when Jack goes to comfort them.

I’ve felt so bad for so long…I almost feel guilty, how he seems to make it all just disappear… How I think I… Maybe I might just… … ... No. No, something isn’t right about this. I feel for him...But something about this is too good. I won’t use him as a bandage, to cover up the feelings I don’t want to feel.

Then a little later...

After all this time… Is this. Love? Does Jack really make me feel whole, all on his own? Or…Is this just a hallucination too. Is this even real? Do I want to love…A hallucination?

MC regards being with Jack as being in a dreamy haze, as they themselves remark on in the “yes” route.

I can’t help but feel odd when I’m grounded in reality. The things I can see and hear and touch for myself. At the moment. Jack is all that I can see. He’s the most real thing there is. But after that, when anything else has my attention, I can see the utter ludicrousness of the situation. Is it intoxicating? Is that what this is? What is this dreamy haze that I find myself consumed by when it comes to him? …And I still don’t quite know what he is. No. No, I really shouldn’t be giving him this kind of power over me.

Jack’s presence in MC’s life is supernatural, and seems to feel like something out of a dream. When reality snaps us out of that dream and demands our attention, we usually tend to forget about the daydream for the most part and focus on the here and now. This could be the case whenever anything else distracts MC from Jack that he feels less real to them in the same way.

However, it could be something much more mundane than that. MC remarked that they were not quite awake and coherent when talking with Shaun. They forgot he was coming and panicked at that fact. These two things, plus their reunion, could serve as enough of a distraction to make them forget that their lover is waiting for them in the other room. Sometimes people are just awkward that way, and we’ve seen MC get distracted at times when engaging with people, as Jack, Shaun, and Ian comment on in their own ways.

Shaun Jeez. Nice to know you’re still a total space case, huh?

Ian Alice?…Are you alright? I snap out of my blissful trance. Alice Oh. Uh. Yeah! Yeah, no, I’m alright! Ian You’re totally spacing on me…Is everything okay?

Jack Alice? Are you okay? Ack. I jump as I return from the realm of warm fuzzies and back to reality.

I hope you don’t mind that I saved these quotes with my version of the MC’s name in them.

Anyway, it seems to be a plot point in the game that MC is the type of person to “space out” on people. This mild disconnect from reality could be part of why they struggle to believe Jack is even real and wonder if they’re just hallucinating his existence entirely.

If MC has this sort of habit of wandering off inside their head, only to snap back to reality when someone is asking for their attention, they could be used to just pushing everything to the side to focus on what’s immediately in front of them until they’re reminded of other things they should be focused on. This could just be something normal for them, or it could’ve been affected more strongly by their fatigue, Jack’s supernatural nature, or any combination thereof.

This tendency to disconnect from reality might also be another reason why MC is running away from nostalgia so desperately. They need to focus on what’s ahead, not what’s behind, though they can’t seem to help wandering off and getting lost inside their head, as we’ve seen in their narration in the demo.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur  

[squadrah]

How do you think la Squadra was like as babies/very teeny young children?

Just to be safe, in case you haven't read my fics, I have excellent news for you: Passione Babysitters, my still on-going but sporadically updated AU has several La Squadra members as small children! This fic was inspired by Gakuen Babysitters at a time when I was keeping up with Vento Aureo and my faves were falling like flies, so I needed something to keep me warm and fuzzy. In this one the toddlers all have Stands, and La Squadra ones include Formaggio, Pesci, Ghiaccio, and Illuso! (A joke chapter also has Prosciutto; everyone else was always either parents or teenagers.)

With that out of the way, it is highly suggested that every Stand user in Passione received their ability from the Arrow, so I'll answer this one on the basis of that and give you La Squadra as small ordinary children.

Risotto: Very Large for his age; probably such a difficult birth that his parents gave up on having more children - this headcanon would also explain why he was so attached to his cousin as an only child. Even as a toddler he would have been big enough to be intimidating to many, and probably spent a lot of time playing by himself.

Formaggio: Lively and mischievous, probably had siblings (I headcanon he had half-siblings) and was the most adventurous among them, which got him into plenty of scrapes even as a toddler; think him climbing up tall places while his motor skills were still developing, playing with bugs, the works.

Prosciutto: Was very beautiful with his full head of curly blond hair, but also very unsettling because of his big dark eyes and his porcelain doll vibes, especially when contrasted with how angry and violent he could get even as a little creature. I don't see him as a loner, but he was certainly not well understood.

Pesci: Oh, he was a delight, but his sweet and attached nature was probably overshadowed by the condition of his neck. Did not feel any different because of it, not consciously, but he was treated differently by most, so his originally cheerful attempts to Be There And Make Friends soon turned into shyness.

Ghiaccio: The angriest little gremlin you have ever seen. Incredibly sensitive to his curls, constantly overstimulated, Very Loud and Opinionated (it's not his fault that adults couldn't understand his passionate squeaks!) Probably threw his family for several loops because they did not expect such a vicious little predator.

Melone: Came into the world as a sickly baby and managed to cling on somehow. They expected him to ruffle very few feathers as a weak little thing, but he was very curious and inquisitive even for his age, so on top of his conditions, he sometimes chewed or swallowed things he shouldn't have.

Illuso: I headcanon him with a bunch of siblings, and as a very fussy and anxious child who constantly had to compete for attention and resources. Lots of toy disputes, hair pulling, screaming and crying, and generally dissing and sassing his siblings. Everyone loved how pretty he was, though, which helped a little bit.

Sorbet: Not the model of masculinity his family had been hoping for, but cruised by on sheer determination. Was kind of standoffish and self-sufficient even as a little boy and usually scooted off to some safe place with a toy or two to mind his own toddler business and play pretend.

Gelato: Another case of different expectations meet nonconforming child, only in this case, said child was extremely involved with everything and everyone he met. As a toddler he loved bringing people insects, chased every bird, cat and dog he found, and teased or played tricks on other kids and adults.

[obeymeluv]

Isnt devildom liquor weaker than human world liquor? Mc had beat Asmo in a drinking contest. How do you think it they'd act, completely hammered in the human world. I think harder liquor means stupider drunks.

Spoiler alert to the in-game MC’s “heritage” reveal. You know, the descendent/reincarnation thing. If you know, you know.

Below: Thoughts on Devildom liquor + the specific incident Nonnie is talking about with Asmo in game + THE ACTUAL ANSWER TO THE ASK. My bad, haha.

My thoughts on Devildom liquor at that point in the game:

The MC is not as affected because they are human/angel. Maybe the angel part fortifies MC and makes it harder for them to get drunk?

Maybe the HUMAN side of MC is what makes it harder for them to get drunk on Devildom liquor? Like...everything in the Devildom is made primarily for demons so maybe there are ingredients in there that specifically affect those with demon blood. Maybe humans don’t have the biology to be inebriated by those ingredients?

I am a little fuzzy on that point in the game but did Asmo pre-game? Like, a lot? Did we ever find out? I could see him being so emotionally distraught that his lovely MC is leaving that he just wants to be sloshed. Maybe he assumed MC beat him in a drinking contest because he forgot how much he already drank?

Maybe Solomon gave MC a heads up that Asmo was down for drinking and gave them a pre-game potion of their own to ward off the affects.

End hypothesis: Maybe Devildom liquor IS strong (for demons) but that potency just can’t translate in human bodies so the bros (Lucifer especially) don’t want MC drinking it because they’re not sure what it will do. They just ASSUME it will do to MC what it does to them.

Other thoughts: Because demons sprinkled little secrets to the humans over the course of history, gave them trinkets and magic and things, I’d like to think they gave humans the idea or process of alcohol-making but are TOTALLY not prepared for the end result. All the flavors, types, etc. 

As far as I understand it (at the point I’m at in the game), travel between the Devildom and human world was widely discouraged until Diavolo could make a program that united the three realms and improved the overall image. So basically everyone has been separated for thousands of years.

What if demons are equally bad at holding human world liquor? I could just see a drunk Asmo being like, “What is this? Sangria? This isn’t what I told them to call it.” as he’s trying to drink and (speed) walk away from Beel, who wants the fruit out of the pitcher.

I could just see them all getting TOTALLY wasted on human world stuff just because they thought “Ahh, we taught them this 5,000 years ago! Of COURSE we can handle it! We invented it!” (spoiler alert: they cannot). Like, I’d like to think their biology works against them here. They heal quicker and probably get over stomach aches and things quicker, so they probably metabolize alcohol quicker to restore bodily equilibrium so they probably get flash-drunk off of just about anything with a decent alcohol content. 

HOW THEY WOULD ACT (AKA: the real question)

The facts: 

They’re all going to be like drunk kittens, big bassy purrs and wanting to cuddle you or scent you. 

They’ll basically curl up in a pile together; you occasionally have to move body parts (so no one suffocates). 

Do a head count every now and then, give them some crackers/carbs when needed, and put water all around them like a summoning circle because when one of them wakes up, all of them will and they’ll act like big babies

Put a bucket near Lucifer and Asmo, they’re sympathy pukers.

Levi and Belphie need total sensory deprivation when they wake up. You may only breach the darkness to bring them things to settle their stomach and anything to kill the headache

Just give Beel bread and anything like Gatorade/Pedialite. He’ll help you with the others after three loaves or so.

Asmo will be especially pitiful and demand you take care of the others first. Once they’re decently able to take care of themselves he’s near teary-eyed, demanding tummy rubs and tell him he’s still pretty even though he feels awful. Please get him a sheet mask.

Mammon’s not functional enough to help with anything major but he’s standing the next day so he rubs that in everyone’s face. He’s the one shuffling around with a half-eaten sandwich, looking for any comfort item (heating pack, cold wrap for his head). He will demon screech at you if you touch any of the lights in the house.

As Mammon comes to, he demands dim lights and acts like a grumpy mom. He’s making porridge and they better shut up and eat it. Says it’s for him but there’s a suspicious amount of bowls nearby.

Satan just swears he’ll never drink again (like always). Dutifully waits for porridge. Spends most of his time letting cold water run over his head. Can’t spend too much time hunched over because he gets nauseous. Baby him a little. Find a way to let his head float in a bit of water where he can lay down and he’s as quiet as a mouse. 

Who can drink the most? (Best to worst - my opinions only)

1) Beel (body mass helps), 2) Mammon (party king), 3) Asmodeus (huuuge history with mixed drinks. Boy is READY), 4) Lucifer, 5) Satan (neck and neck with Lucifer - casual drinker only. Even wine is rare for him), 6) Leviathan, 7) Belphie (usually sleeping instead of drinking). 

Lucifer:

We’ve seen little gags about how ‘Lucifer got drunk and unplugged the router’ so this guy’s either going to be super cuddly, a hot mess, or both

You know the people who fluff their hair, comb it back, undo a tie or some buttons and just get comfy as they drink? That’s Lucifer.

He’ll smile a bit more, laugh a bit more, and there will be some color to his cheeks

He’s not sloppy, just cozy. 

Drunk Lucifer is not overly loud but he is honest. He won’t throw himself into groups or pester all the brothers, but he’s up for some accidentally-heartwarming one-on-one

When he’s drunk he’ll lay his head on your shoulder and let you play with his hair

Will not win any drinking games. Is actually a lightweight compared to his brothers (see best > worst drinker, above).

Mammon:

GO BIG OR GO HOME! MAMMON’S HERE TO PLAY FOR BIG MONEY! (AKA: bragging rights that he can handle more than his brothers)

He and Asmo are quick to get the drinks flowing because they want to try shots of everything. 

He and Asmo are pretty good at matching brothers to drinks and tasting subtle notes, things like that

Show Mammon beer pong once and it’s done. He’s betting the brothers he can whoop them and is somehow able to pull off ping pong ball math to get Lucifer shit-faced real quick (might do it even faster if Belphie or Satan slip him some money)

The type to be like “Bet you I can hit that cup right there--third row, second from the left.” and can do it flawlessly. You have to give him head pats or $5, that’s the rules.

He’ll be one of the bros you have to chase around and make put his clothes back on. Boy will try to strip and strut

Will definitely hoard his favorite bottle (picked it on smell) and spend a majority of the time trying to drink it and avoid the bros. (”YOU CAN’T MAKE ME SHARE IF YOU CAN’T CATCH ME!”)

Leviathan

Not the best drinker. Not a frequent drinker at all.

His envy makes him drink because as he starts to go on a tangent about how ‘it’s not fair! Everyone’s having a good time!’ when he realizes it’s as easy as picking up a drink. Like...he can join in too.

Levi won’t grab himself an alcoholic drink because he’s a nervous over-thinker. Asmo or Mammon will just hand him a cup like the resident Liquor Fairy and he trusts their judgement

The first one to let his demon form out just because the liquor is a little warm in his belly and he feels like he’s flying? Also comfortable?

The excited drunk who goes on animated, slurred rants

The loud laugher

He’s honestly so adorably animated that anyone who knew him would be surprised? He seems far from a shut in

Trade off: he can’t hold his liquor well

Boy probably trips on his own tail or thinks something snagged his ankle to bring him down when, in fact, he just fell down

Sways when he sits

When he’s done, he just wants a nice comfy lap to lay in and maybe play with his hair. 

Like Lucifer, liquor will make him confess all his feelings. 

Watch out for the tail. It will be all over you when he starts to lose the ability to wrap it around himself.

Satan:

It’s a toss-up as to whether he gets drunk before Lucifer or vice versa. I’d like to think his tolerance is slightly higher since he might run in the same circles as Asmo, but he is a part of Lucifer so I’m sure it balances out

He’s a drink snob and this is what hurts him the most. He goes to fancy tastings and random things he’s invited to, but this is a drop in the bucket

He’s never gone hardcore before because he’s afraid he’ll be prone to anger

He’s not. He’s actually a lot like Levi. He just wants to smile and laugh and have fun.

The one who knows a lot of random/interesting stuff and has unexpectedly awesome party tricks

He and Asmo act as instigators and somehow con everyone else into getting drunk. It’s mostly because he wants blackmail material, but he enjoys the mind games

He’s the one you’re going to have to carry BUT he’s super chill when he’s having a good time. You want him to wear a lampshade? Okay, but only if you call him Enlightened One (get it?)

Makes bad jokes. Lucifer definitely laughs

The one that randomly dances with someone at the party. But it’s a fancy dance or slow dance, not something crazy

Will try to prove he’s not as drunk as he is by reading or reciting something and just breaks down into snorts and giggles

Cat Mode: Activated. He wants to be all over you. Hug him and play with his hair, please.

Asmo:

Asmo isn’t really different from his usual self.

He’s a little social butterfly, making his rounds and checking on people

He’s the silent, sneaky drunk. No one notices he’s drunk until his face starts getting red and his eyes get glassy

The quiet cuddler. Just progressively gets closer to you until he’s resting his head on your shoulder, hugging you from the side and asking you to give him his drink.

Would be the happiest person on the planet if you literally just held his drink up to his lips and let him drink it when he wanted to. You just love him so much?! You’re so thoughtful?! He wants to cry

Guilty party #2 for ‘chase him around and make him put his clothes back on’

Next in line for ‘Liquor makes me tell the truth and my darkest secrets’.

Will try any activity at the party and will dance at least once with everybody

If he gets in a fight, that’s because someone doesn’t respect what he put on the party playlist. He knows good music, okay?!

Has a personal goal to steal one drink from everyone, drink it before they realize, and hand them back the empty cup as he slips away. Something about it just amuses him.

Wants to leave lipstick/lip gloss kisses on people. Thinks they’re the cutest accessory!

The one who loses something at the party and makes everyone look for it the next day

The one who’s passed out in a random spot and no one has the heart to move them but everyone checks on them to make sure they’re safe. When everyone’s turned in for the night, he is safely moved like the precious baby he is.

Beel:

The one who takes the longest to get drunk. You don’t know if it’s because of his build or how much he ate to offset the alcohol

Unofficial baby sitter of the group. Pays special attention to everyone but Belphie, Asmo, and Levi in particular.

Not super loud. Just vibes and enjoys time with his family.

He’ll participate in the party activities because he does have that competitive streak but he’s not as invested in it as Mammon. If he wins at least once he’s proved his point and is on to something else

Surprsingly, #3 to ‘you might have to chase him and make him put his clothes on’. Drunk Beel is convinced he’ll get over the alcohol faster with less clothes because of temperature regulation and something that doesn’t really make sense because he’s slurring

Will drink more if Belphie is nearby or if he can hold onto Belphie. Taking care of Belphie and knowing he’s okay (in a tactile way) makes him a little more carefree. 

Doesn’t really confess like the other bros but he’s the one no one can really hear talking because his purr takes over everything. His purrs are so loud and deep! Big boy is truly happy

Drunk Beel is affectionate as ever and this is where you learn that demons can express affection by licking people. Most of the bros end up with a Simba-style mohawk. It’s just one lick but Beel’s got a long tongue and it fucks with hair real good.

Will jump in for a song or two if karaoke is a thing at the party. A really good singer but wouldn’t do it unless he had a decent amount of alcohol in him.

He’s the type to trip over stuff trying to help clean up. If he falls down he says he’s just ‘taking a break’ and will ‘help in a minute’. Might not get up again.

Once Beel lays down, Belphie, Satan, and Levi drunk crawl/stumble/slither over to him for warmth. This is how the cuddle pile starts.

When he lays down, if you get anywhere near him, he’s begging you to lay down with him. Wants to whisper little compliments and lovely things. A big sap. Handsy but will definitely know when to lay off and will listen if you get uncomfortable. 

Belphie:

Honestly, doesn’t really drink. He’s more interested in the nap.

His biggest motivation is to get the others drunk so everyone’s quiet and he can sleep. Definitely wants Lucifer blackmail.

He’ll have a few things but he prefers a lot of something mild versus a mix or a few shots of something super potent

Will try the funnel drink challenge.

The third enticer. He wants to work everyone up (Lucifer especially) and get the booze going.

Borrows off of Beel’s body mass and ability to handle alcohol here and there, but it all catches up with him eventually

The type to have really diluted drinks because he’s already sleepy by nature and doesn’t want to faceplant with a shot glass.

Will slow dance with Asmo. When Asmo starts to struggle with his weight as Belphie gets cozy and sleepy, Beel steps in and you just see the twins purring and warbling to each other as Beel just scoops him up and lets him sit on his hip like a toddler.

Another one who wants to slither into your lap and take all your attention.

The type to do random shit like boop your nose and giggle about it.

The one who doesn’t want anyone else to touch you. If he’s laying on you then the others need to leave you alone. It’s not hard to understand!

[infernalrevenge]

Hello, hello! I was wondering if I could possibly request your take on Reader and each of the Dimitrescu Daughters with how they show affection? Nuzzles, kisses, hugs/snuggles, terms of endearment, gifts, nsfw, etc. One big fluff-ball. Just bury me in the warm fuzzy. Thank you!

This is excellent timing, anon friendo because I had been thinking of making a Love Languages Headcanon List for some time now, so this is a great way to start on that! I hope this satisfies your mushy fluffy warm fuzzball desires (that I kept relatively PG) :P

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Bela Dimitrescu

Bela felt that she had a reputation to uphold as the eldest daughter of the Dimitrescu family, ever so meticulous yet also eager to please. But she does know her boundaries.

More often than not, she finds herself busy with her mother in helping run the business, hoping to one day become a proper heir. I mention all this so you know her situation -- she's a working gal and you gotta respect that.

However, she is not one to leave her loved ones hanging. The best way she shows her love is by spending quality time with you, doing things that you might enjoy. It gives her a chance to better get to know her love.

Of course she would have her way as well, doing activities she liked such as art, music, and more. You two might even try something new to the both of you, just for some added thrill.

It doesn't always have to be "something" to do though, she's more than happy to just simply be in the same space as you while you do your own thing. That counts as "doing something together", right?

You could be reading a book on one corner of the room and she could be reviewing some important notes on the bed, but you two are just so comfortable in the quiet space you've made for yourselves that it feels like you two are side-by-side.

She just likes to know you're there, your presence alone is a great source of comfort to her. She loves to see you happy and content, especially knowing it's because she's around. Once you get into it, there is no such thing as an awkward silence between the two of you.

I imagine she's not that big on initiating physical affection, but she would be hard pressed to deny you anything. From something as simple as holding her hand, to spooning and cuddling, to a full-on make out session -- all you have to do is ask. She's more than happy to deliver.

Her favorite position is being the big spoon in bed, finding a lot of comfort in knowing that you are in her grasp, safe and sound. She also enjoys planting a few kisses on your shoulder and neck in an attempt to rouse you from slumber.

While she was still courting you (because I like to imagine she's a bit of an old-fashioned romantic, but she would have courted you regardless of your gender), she would often bring you gifts. They weren't extravagant, but they were definitely meaningful, and often related to things you two had talked about in the past.

She didn't use pet names very often but she will call you "love" on occasion, especially if there was a chance you would call her that in return. She may not openly admit it but she just melts every time you call her that -- made it feel like having a crush on you all over again.

Even though she may seem distant on the outside, Bela is truly a woman who makes the most of her time with people she cares about. You are no exception to that, and she wants that to be known to you as much and as often as possible.

Cassandra Dimitrescu

Cassandra, much like her older sister, believes she too has a reputation to uphold within the family. Can't have her be seen going soft for just anyone.

But uh, plot twist: Girl just wants to be loved, and she doesn't even know it.

In private, she really really loves physical affection. She shows her love by clinging onto you as tightly as possible, melding so closely to you that it becomes hard to tell where her body ended and yours began.

She loves pressing her cheek and ear against your chest to hear the calming beat of your heart, the warmth of your skin just under her fingertips, and her head tucked right under your chin while you two lay in bed together.

Truthfully, she started doing this when you first got together because she enjoyed how flustered you seemed when she basically had herself wrapped around you. But over time, the both of you realized just how much she liked being this close to you too. You teased her for it once and she shut you out of your own room for a while. (She only let you back in because she suddenly missed cuddling you.)

This was a trait that kind of carried over from her hunting instincts, but she was very observant of others -- their tics, habits, routines, and all the like. She took notice of a lot of things other people did, didn't do, and couldn't do. It made her very attentive to her loved ones.

This manifested in the form of performing acts of service. Toward you, it ranged from simple things like keeping objects that were usually out of your reach to a more manageable height (either by her own action or an order to a servant) to helping you relax after a long and tiring day, to even performing your chores for you if she knew you were having a hard time with them.

Anything that she could help with to make herself useful, she would do. She wanted her loved ones to move around comfortably and without much worry, and she would take on that burden if that was what it took.

Granted it didn't necessarily mean she did well in these endeavors, but the effort did not go unnoticed. And you would never see the girl try to half-ass anything -- once she started on a task, you bet your sweet ass she was going to get it done too.

Her terms of "endearment" were very teasing and, out of context, could be downright insulting. You would never hear anything so generic as "baby" or "sweetie" (unless she was being condescending.) "Little shit" (affectionate) was more her speed.

If you also called her nicknames with a similar amount of creativity, she would return it with the same enthusiasm. She didn't take those things to heart anyway. If insults were a love language, this would be one of hers.

Cassandra is a little rough around the edges when it comes to love and intimacy, but she loves so fiercely. It's like a fire, raging on the more you feed its maw -- the only difference is that this fire would never die out.

Daniela Dimitrescu

Daniela is the most affectionate and most likely to be a hopeless romantic in the family. She always daydreamed of having a "knight in shining armor" of her own, but honestly she'll take anyone who would love her for herself.

Definitely the type to show off her wonderful significant other, either "subtly" through a bit of PDA, or more overtly through a lot of PDA and more grand gestures of love. Just let her do this, she has so much love to give and she needs that energy to go somewhere.

Even in private spaces, she would never let go of your hand if she had her way. Trying to separate from her when she wasn't in the mood would get you the "kicked puppy dog" treatment from her. It's not her fault you were so warm and nice to be around.

She loves being the little spoon in bed. There's just something reassuring about having a warm presence right behind her, your arms wrapped around her middle. You could even kick a leg on top of her waist -- all she wants is to get as close to you as she possibly can.

When you're working on a desk and sitting on a chair, she will inevitably sit on your lap and snuggle up against you while you try to do whatever it is you're doing. No matter how many times she promises that "you won't even know she's there", it's kind of hard to ignore the way she just buries her face into your neck and the little snores coming out of her if she falls asleep like this.

Calls you very cheesy and almost strange pet names like "honey pie" and "sweetie baby boo". You're never sure if she actually meant them or was messing with you because of her tone, but you can tell she was always amused by your reaction to them, which was part of the reason she kept saying them.

She did also have an inner poet though, so she may suddenly pull lines like "the moon to my night" that would make you stumble and wonder what had possessed your girlfriend. And then you would remember how much she enjoyed reading romance novels, so it made more sense.

Sometimes she'll pull them out early in the morning right as you two were just waking up, limbs entangled with the other's. Then you'd hear her call you "light of my life" in her deep sleepy voice, and you just have to hide the big goofy smile on your face behind a pillow or something.

She also loves to give you gifts, mostly because she liked how your face would light up whenever you received one. Oftentimes, they are little trinkets that remind her of you that she spotted one day and thought to give to you. Kind of like a cat presenting a dead mouse or bird to its owner, but not as gross.

She says "I love you" and any similar declarations pretty often, but the words never lose their meaning. Just know that she always says them with her whole heart, regardless of the tone she takes on when she does.

She also enjoys doing random acts of affection because she likes seeing how you react to them, whether you get all blushy and a little embarrassed, or you return them in kind. Either way, she is very happy and it gives her the warm fuzzies when you play along.

Like I said, Daniela just has so much love to give, and she would be so happy to see that energy enthusiastically returned. Just give her a chance and you'll never have to doubt her feelings for you.