#i have so many questions about this movie

[kerryshifting]

i read your pinned post and why do you want to live forever? like be immortal

we think we have many desires .. but in fact we have only one. to live, forever.

IT’S IMMORTALITY … MY DARLINGS.

why is such thing as immortality, who was always represented in media as a curse who will break your soul into pieces century after century, a thing that shifters like me decide to engage in? this is my personal experience. so. it's very personal. may have sensitive topics.

you know when you are a young child and you find out that the sun will die in some billion years? i spend the whole day sobbing when my older cousin told me. i was four, and that was my first introduction to death. since that day i discovered that everything seemed to lead there: no matter what you do in life, how old or young you are, if you deserve it or not. i was always told that i have one life, and my non–religious family said that there's nothing after. that's it. no other opportunities.

since then i had a very love and hate relationship with death. hated when it took something from me, loved in the hope that would take me. everytime my life started to get dark, it was my first thought. listening to born to die by lana del rey on repeat became part of my routine.

and then. boom. THE canon event. shifting.

i fell on my knees. i was desperate. i wanted other chances. i wanted other lives. my higher self thought it was a good idea to give me this knowledge. i was fourteen, my mom was my enemy, lana del rey my saviour, and all of my friendships were girls, so confusing by charli xcx before girls, so confusing (fourteen years old me would have eat that up). so, i decided to believe it immediately. no questions asked. but, of course, i was a teenage girl. shit happens. and the italian school system it's worse than an asylum. and then shit actually happened!!! the type of things that makes you laugh hysterically before sobbing on the carpet. i was sixteen and suddenly i didn't want other lives, and neither the one i had. i totally forgot about shifting… and then i reached the rock bottom. like. really bad. it was a continue cycle of sadness and apathy and then, almost two years later, anger. ooooooooooh boy i was mad.

i never understood the people around me calling me rebellious – like. girl. where? until i discovered shifting again. septermber 2024. what a time to be alive! but first: that summer really did something to me. going in my home country, connecting with the place where my ancestors walked, breathed and lived really was a slap in the face. that summer i actually picked up a book after years of caring about nothing, and i was still the curious child that would go in historical websites to research about things. watched documentary after documentary. i read poetry. scientific shits that i never actually understood. politics. an hatred for all the people who said to me that "you only have one life" hit me so hard. i was furious because i spent years of my 'only' life sobbing in my bed. SEPTEMBER 2024. shifting!!!!!! fuck!!!!!!!!!! i totally forgot about that!!!!!!!!!! instead of tiktok i used tumblr, and i got slapped in the face numerous times again. it's so different from what i thought. better. amazing. the answer to my questions.

so, all this to say what? immortality. basically: rebellion. revenge. out of spite. my last and long lasting sarcastic laugh. i want culture. now i care about things around me. i care about myself. i care about my soul, all the possible versions of me. the world. other people. i want to be young and old again. and again. i healed. i am not mad, i am excited. i have a journey. emotions that i can't wait to experience. a big middle finger to death who consumed my first eighteen years of life. this feels very dramatic but hey!!! i watch too many movies so that's probably why.

[hirayalore]

it was a no-brainer that GEORGE WEASLEY got it from his father.

you saw it in his eyes—the manner in which they sparkled with so much curiosity whenever muggles were the topic of conversation, hundreds of questions always falling out of his mouth before he could restrain himself. 

it was endearing to witness him be so interested in things that you considered ordinary (which truly, they were), the questions always stemming from his genuine wonder of how muggles were able to live without magic, how they managed to accomplish tasks without spells, how certain devices worked without being charmed, how people went from one place to another without the help of floo powder or knowing how to apparate…

and having lived in a muggle home yourself for as long as you remember, it was one of the many things that you and george have talked about throughout your relationship, with you being more than happy to indulge him with his fascination with the non-magic folk in every opportunity that presented itself.

hence, when winter break came and your parents invited him to spend the holidays at your place, you knew that you had to take this chance to formally introduce him to the world that he has been oh-so-interested about.

“how are they doing this?” george mumbled beside you in complete awe, gesturing at the huge screen they had in the cinema.

you grinned and leaned closer to his side, the scent of his cologne and butter popcorn filling your nose. “they film it with a camera, and then edit it until it becomes one long video. a movie, as it’s called.”

“a movie.” he repeated, not hiding how impressed he was based on his tone. “and this camera you say, it’s not magic?”

“nope.”

“then how can it make the pictures move?”

“well, they’re not exactly pictures, love. they’re videos. or clips. i don’t know. there wasn’t exactly a class about this that i could attend.” you joked.

he laughed and looked at you. “well, whatever it is, it’s bloody brilliant. it amazes me how muggles can make pictures move without magic—and even make them have sounds! it’s truly fascinating. even magic hasn’t done that. unless you count a howler, of course.”

you gave him a fond grin, pleased that your mission to enlighten him with another thing from your world seemed successful based on his eager expression and the manner in which he was now focusing back on the movie.

as he did that, you couldn’t help but focus on him instead, your gaze glued to his face like he was the one you paid for to see in this dimly lit cinema. you admired the freckles that littered his skin, the slight smile he was showcasing, and his red hair that was neatly trimmed yet still had this effortless tousled look that tempted you very much to run your fingers in.

“hey, love,” you whispered abruptly, leaning closer to him.

george barely spared you a glance. “hm?”

“do you know what muggles usually do in muggle cinemas?”

at that, his attention is reverted back to you. “no.”

“it’s a tradition at this point, really.”

“yeah?” the innocence in his expression made you smirk. “what is it?”

without missing a beat, you gently pulled him by the neck and kissed him.

it started out just a peck, your lips pressing on his, and for a moment, george was sitting still, perhaps trying to read what was on your mind to prompt you to kiss him all of the sudden. but then you felt the curve of his grin against your mouth, and before you could blink, he angled his head, deepening the kiss with ease that told you he now understood what your intentions were.

you sighed, planting a few more soft kisses on his mouth and then deciding to pull back, seeing george look at you with a mixture of amazement and doubt.

“you just made that up, didn’t you?” he teasingly accused you. “are you telling me muggles consider it a tradition to kiss in cinemas?”

you tried to make your laughter as quiet as possible. “i’m being honest. and for the record, it’s not kissing that’s tradition per say—it’s much bolder than that. i was just being considerate and going easy on you.” you joked.

at your statement, you could practically see the shift in his expression, the confusion melting into sudden realization, as if the pieces of a puzzle had finally clicked into place.

slowly, an all knowing mischievous smirk appeared on his mouth, and this time, he was the one who was scooting closer to you, the gap between your faces thinner.

“well, in that case,” his nose brushed against yours, his voice dropping an octave, “who am i to deny a perfectly good muggle tradition?”

you didn’t even have the chance to laugh again, for george was already back kissing you, abandoning the movie and turning his full attention to you—no longer interested in the film now that he had you trapped in his arms, his lips eager and demanding as if he had no intention of stopping anytime soon.

gentle reminder: this author loves feedback! let her know your thoughts if you enjoyed reading this fic and you’ll add 100+ points in her writing motivation meter ♡

[softlypaintedseafoam]

the summer moon was born from the waves to be loved

synopsis. you get pregnant and the ghost of university days past finds out five years later.

pairing. gojou satoru x f!reader (afab)

word count. 10.2k | masterlist

content warning. 18+ (mentions of sex but nothing explicit), college au (no powers), friends with benefits, pregnancy, hidden child trope, onesided feelings (unreliable narrator), use of y/n

reblogs & interactions appreciated.

a repost of an old favorite two-part story of mine. this story originally came about as a what if discussion concerning characters from jjk to tokrev to even bllk and the gojou idea was the most inspiring so i really ran with it. pt 2 will be posted later this week. this is filler while i work on my current wips

o. ghost

This felt like something out of a bad movie.

One of those “yeah, that’s me. The one looking like she just shit herself because the ghost of Christmas past just showed up” kinds of movies. The ghost of Christmas past whom you haven’t seen in the last five years.

The ghost of Christmas past that your daughter looks at curiously, wondering who put you in such a stupor as she asks sweetly, “who’s he, Mommy?”

The ghost of Christmas past whose face is unreadable as he looks at Itsuki before he settles his gaze on you. “Yeah, [First],” the ghost asks. “Who am I?”

Where did I go wrong?

A rhetorical question. 

A lot in life has to go wrong for a man you thought you left in your memories to show up at your doorstep but you can pinpoint the exact moment in time in which you screwed up. It’s all because you sat next to Ieiri Shoko in your mandatory calculus class. If it weren’t for that, none of this would be happening.

No, that isn’t it. Your gaze turns to Itsuki, who looks back at you with familiar light blue eyes and white hair. She may have gotten the Gojou Satoru eye and hair colors, but her hair texture and skin tone both pointed to you. If I sat anywhere else she wouldn’t be here. And even if you knew that sitting next to Shoko meant meeting the world’s most aggravating man you could have fallen for, you feel like you would have taken that path once again.

No, sitting next to Shoko wasn’t where you messed up all those years agoー it was telling her you were pregnant in the first place.

i. spring tide

When you met Gojou Satoru, you considered it a godsend.

Not because his eyes were a rare shade of blue that most would kill to have. Not because he was drop dead gorgeous and the last person you were expecting to see when your classmate Shoko invited you to eat lunch with her and a couple friends.

The reason was a lot more simple thatー he was the first person you’d met in years that had watched and liked Digimon more than Pokemon. I am so glad I sat next to that Shoko girl, you thought in gleeful disbelief as he told you his personal favorites before flipping the question onto you. “I’m basic,” you told him with a laugh. “I’ve been riding the wave of Gatomon love since I was 7.”

Getou Suguru, Satoru’s childhood best friend from what you’d gathered, groaned, “please don’t make him continue with your excitement.”

“Ignore him,” Satoru pushed Suguru’s face away with all the nonchalance in the world. “He thinks Digimon is stupid.”

“It’s a Pokemon bootleg!” Suguru shot back with a sly smile.

In unison, you and Satoru gasped in disbelief and offense. “Boy bye! You can talk all the shit you want about Digimon, I can rest every night at ease knowing if my house were on fire Agumon would be able to say ‘[First], your house is on fire’,” you sneered in jest at the man, Satoru clapping in agreement all the while at your defense. “You don’t get that kind of insurance with Pikachu! ‘Pika pika’ could mean so many things!”

“Where have you been all my life?” Satoru snickered, holding his hand out for a high five you reciprocated with complete enthusiasm.

“Watching Digimon by myself,” you laughed, whipping out your phone. You needed this man’s number stat. “The next time I have a Digimon rewatch, I’m inviting you over. Like, you don’t have the option to refuse, you’ve doomed yourself.”

Satoru’s eyes were gleaming from his lowered shades, “funny, I was about to say the exact same thing to you,” he glanced over at Suguru with a teasing look. “Friendship ended with Suguru, [First] is my new best friend,” the white-haired student declared as he typed his number into your phone.

He labeled himself Digidestined Satoru, sending a text to himself: This is coming from the phone of Digidestined [First]. Your cheeks hurt from how widely you were grinning as you looked at the message. “That better be what you put me in your phone.”

“Definitely, new best friend,” Satoru promised, whipping his own phone around to show your new contact in it. Digidestined [First] it was.

Despite the apparent disownership, Suguru looked amused and unbothered, “okay but see if your ex-best friend takes notes for you if you ever take off from class.” Suddenly your new brother-in-Digimon was singing a different tune, waxing poetic about how Digimon and Pokemon were brothers from different mothers. You rolled your eyes but you’re unmistakably giddy as you watched him talk with his hands.

“There doesn’t need to bad blood between the two,” Satoru ended with a grand bow. “As such, I declare that I can have more than one best friend.”

“How did we even get on the topic of Digimon,” Shoko asked with an amused look on her face, cracking open another beer. “That was so random.”

You grabbed your own beer with a light giggle, you felt rather light compared to how you started this day. “His sunglasses had a Metal Greymon-like pattern and I had to say something about it,” you say after a few sips. “Glad I did because now I have a new brother-in-Digimon.”

Blue eyes held your gaze for a moment and you clacked your cans together in celebration.

That was how your friendship started. Clothed in beer and Digimon. It took about a week before he swept over to your place, seeking out the promise to watch Digimon together. If you can really call what you did watching, you spent more than half of the time talking over the episodes about miscellaneous topics than actually watching Tai and the gang try to get back to the physical world.

He’d known Suguru since he was 5.

(“We got into a fight on the playground. I wanted the swing and he wouldn’t get off. So I kicked him and he threw sand at my face, we’ve been buddies ever since.”

“I have a lot of questions about how y’all went from trying to kill each other to being best friends.”

“Look, don’t question our methods.”)

He was a December Sagittarius, born December 7th.

(”Yeah, I can tell!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”)

He apparently started eating sweets to stimulate his brain but ended up with a sweet tooth.

(“That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, did you get that shit from Death Note?!”

“…. no.”

“Oh my god, you did!”

“You literally got a tattoo of a butterfly because of a crush you had on Jolyne from Part 6, shut up!”

“Satoru, don’t play these games with me.”)

He sounded eerily similar to Bruno Bucciarati from part 5 of JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure.

(”Arrivederci!”

“Oh my god that’s insane! You do! Say something else!”

“STICKY FINGERS!!!”

“PFFT-”

“See? I could totally get away with saying I voiced him and no one would bat an eyelash.”

“Who else do you sound like?”

“I’ve been told I make a great impression of Kuroo from Haikyuu!!”

He did, by the way.)

And he was currently enrolled as a business major. 

(“My old man wouldn’t get off my back about it. You?”

“Marine biology.”

“We have that program here?”)

He had a natural charisma that just drew people in, yourself included. That’s why you think it was so easy being with him, he made it feel like you’d been friends all your life even if reality said otherwise. He made everyone feel like that, that’s why he’d always be surrounded by people.

Still, he’d find a way to make you feel special when his eyes would light up in recognition when he saw you wave across the room at parties.

How he’d jig across the room with those lanky limbs of his to grab you in a hug. “[First], you finally made it! Thanks for coming out of the bat cave you call a room to grace us with your presence!”

It made you feel special that you were friends with the person adored by everyone else. That’s why you could playfully push him off of you and say, “you mean the bat cave you crawl to when you lock yourself out of your room and Suguru isn’t in either?”

“I’m hurt, why are you being mean to me?” Satoru pouted batting his white eyelashes like a distressed damsel. “Don’t you know who you’re being mean to when you’re being an ass? This, this is who you’re being mean to,” he gestured to himself.

“Last week you ate my fries after I specifically said not to touch them because I counted how many I had left, I know exactly who I’m being mean to.”

“How was I supposed to know you’d count them again whenever you decided to eat them?” Your irritation from last week had long since passed though, that was why you could laugh it off with a shake of your head. Satoru was Satoru, it was what you liked most about him even if he could be a pain in the ass.

Suguru’s brown eyes twinkled as you joined the small fray of him, Shoko and Utahime in a corner of the room, “I’m just glad I’m not the only one dealing with him anymore.” Satoru suck his tongue out with a ‘rude’.

“Someone has to do the dirty work,” Shoko replied as she raised a cigarette to her lips. “it might as well be us.”

Utahime smacked the tobacco stick out of her girlfriend’s hands as she said, “I’d rather not be included in the list of people of doing the dirty work.”

“Et tu, [First], et tu?” Satoru asked when you made no effort to come to his defense.

You raised your hands in mock defense, “I have to be a little mean to you sometimes, Satoru,” you told him with a snicker. “It keeps you from getting too big an ego.”

Whether or not that was working was debatable.

The night went on smoothly until your favorite brand of beer had been noticeably picked off from the coolers.

That’s my cue to leave.

“Sorry gang, but my lips don’t touch anything but Don Equis and Asahi,” you said with an air of regality not suited for a party of college students. “Maybe Corona if there’s nothing else. I’m not drinking… whatever this is. So I’m gonna head out, there’s a 24 hour liquor store around here somewhere.”

A chorus of farewells came from your friends minus one. “You coming back?” Satoru looked over at you in earnest.

But you shook your head, “nah, I think I’m done for the night,” you told him truthfully. Your social battery was gone for the rest of the evening and home was the only place you wanted to be. “I’ll catch you guys later though,” you stood up with a stretch.

Satoru stood up with you, “I’ll walk you back to your place then.”

Which was how you ended up sipping beers at the park, laying on soft grass. It wasn’t truly quiet, not with the passing of cars and the occasional passersby but it was quiet enough compared to the welcomed ruckus of the party. “Satoru,” Satoru hummed wordlessly in acknowledgement. “Where do you see yourself in 10 years?”

“Dunno,” Satoru shrugged back pressed against the earth snuggly. “I never really got to think about it.”

He was an only child and as such the only one his parents’ turned their gaze to with pressure of taking over the family business. He confided in you ages ago how he hated it when you started seeing more sides of Satoru than the mischief-loving comedian he presented himself as.

You scooted closer to him to lean over his head, “well I think whatever you end up doing, even if it ends up really pissing off your dad, you’ll be great at it. You’re Satoru, that’s how I know you’ll be fine,” your voice held the tone of a promise. I promise you’ll be fine and you’ll be happy.

Thanks, [First]. You liked to think that was what that look on Satoru’s face meant. “I think you’ll make a great part-time aquarist, full-time whale researcher,” Satoru replied instead.

“You’re damn right I will,” you smiled warmly at him, moving a stray strand of his hair off his forehead. “Be careful I don’t disappear for months, spirited away by the sea folk on my Children of the Sea shit.” You took his sunglasses off, you had no clue how he was able to wear them 24/7. Even stranger was how he was still able to walk so easily at night despite having them on. Apparently the Gojou eye genes were built different; the colors of his eyes certainly were. “I’ll come back to shore occasionally, mysterious as the sea itself.” The sea you got to see every time you looked at his eyes, even if now they were barely visible even with the street lights.

Satoru looked back at you with a small smirk, “even if you got spirited away, I’d just go and bring you right back. Suguru’ll kill me if I try and make him watch Digimon Tamers with me again. You said it first, remember?” His voice was low as he recalled your exact words from your first meeting. “You’ve doomed yourself. There’s no ditching me now, not even at sea.”

“I did say something like that, didn’t I,” you smiled wryly. 

He didn’t say anything back, but you could guess that he was likely thinking something along the lines ‘yep, that you did. No take backsies.’ A comfortable silence fell between the two of you, his eyes staring up at yours. It’s then you swore you saw him glance at your lips from where he laid and just when you considered the idea of kissing himー the sprinklers turned on.

Even worse, in your surprise his head clashed into yours as he tried getting up with a start.

Then there was a dash of bullshit on the side when your beers spilled over into the grass.

Great, you thought as Satoru tossed your emptied cans into a nearby trash can after you got out of the line of fire. You shook your arms, droplets of water flying off your soaked sleeves.

You should have taken that as a major sign from the universe that you would be making a mistake of gargantuan proportions if you kissed that man.

Instead, the two of you looked at each other and laughed. “God I hate this park, why do we even come here? Nothing good ever happens when we do,” Satoru said with a shake of his damp hair.

“This is the first time we’ve ever even come here,” you snickered.

“And see what a great start we’re already having with it?”

“Come on,” you tugged him by the wrist. “Let’s just change at my place, you have some clothes somewhere over there.”

A smarter person would have left it at that once you got home and showered, placing your clothes in the wash. It could have been a pleasant end to the evening, the two of you crashing on the couch while watching some dumb movie you never heard of on Netflix.

But the same atmosphere from the park came back with you when he came out of the bathroom at the same time you planned to knock on it to ask if he wanted something warm to drink. “Oh, sorry-” you say when your fist lightly landed on his chest instead of the door. “I was just gonna ask if you wanted tea or something. I bought your favorite brand of honey.”

“Sure, I’d like that,” he answered but you made no move to go to the kitchen and he made no move to ask when you would.

Who kissed who first, you weren’t sure. It didn’t really hit you that you were kissing until Satoru tore his lips from yours with a pant, “hey how drunk are you because I really just wanna make sure-”

“I’m not,” you pulled his lips back onto yours and Satoru hadn’t wasted time in hoisting you up by the legs.

ii. neap tide

When does one stop sleeping with their friend? You suppose it is probably when you realize you have feelings for them.

You didn’t do that.

If it had been anyone else doing this to themselves, you would have told them to cut the cord while the feelings were still manageable.

Or maybe you at least tell the other party how they felt.

You didn’t do that either.

Maybe that was why it was all catching up to you one day when you woke up feeling like crap. The physical manifestation of your stress coming back to bite you in the ass. Right before the trip you were planning on taking with your friends, you started feeling like crap only exacerbated when Satoru was in your presence.

But you still went despite your physically manifested stress because you’re a pushover. Or more specifically, if it involved Satoru, you folded faster than Sunday morning laundry. You had to when he looked at you in concerned disbelief you were trying to drop out of your plans last minute.

“Satoru, it isn’t the end of the world if I stay home. It’s just a week long break.”

“A week long break from your friends? From me? Your best friend?”

You struggled not to laugh, “last week you said I was kicked from that position because I watched one episode of Love is Blind without you.”

Satoru scowled at the memory, “because that’s our show, we started that together, there’s no watching ahead,” he reprimanded you. “And clearly I’ve forgiven you since you’re back in that position because I can’t believe you’re trying to leave me to survive with a couple and Suguru for a week!”

You puckered your lips and shrugged, “if it’s any consolation, Suguru is your boyfriend like 95% of the time.”

“Well right now Suguru is that asshole Kenjaku’s boyfriend and Kenjaku is supposed to be coming and I do not want to fourth wheel that by myself.”

You flicked his nose softly, “so you want me to third party fourth wheel with you so you don’t have to be alone with two couples?”

Satoru grinned and you stopped yourself from rolling your eyes. “Third party fourth wheel with benefits, yes.”

You stared at him for one, two, three seconds before you relented. “Look, I’m only going because I want the sex, not because I’m happily agreeing to fourth wheel with you.”

Satoru whooped regardless in his victory, “works for me!” He chortled as he went back to scrolling on his phone.

Silence fell over you as fiddled with your pointer finger and thumb.

“Hey,” Satoru spared a glance from whatever he was staring at on twitter. “What are we supposed to be?” Blue eyes grew to the size of saucers and you continued, “Classic no strings attached? Or is this supposed to be going somewhere?”

That made him set down his phone, “why,” he licked his lips before grinning, but it looked forced even to your eyes. “Why are you asking me that so randomly?”

You deserved an Oscar for how smoothly you delivered what came from your mouth. “Well what if the receptionist there is hot? I don’t need to make things between us awkward because it turned out we aren’t on the same page,” you thumbed behind you in the direction of the hotel. “‘What the hell, [First]’,” you deepened your voice, puckering your bottom lip as you whined. “‘I thought we had something special and you fucked the receptionist? What if they end up fucking with our reservation now?!’”

“First of all, that is not what I sound like,” Satoru stuck his tongue out at you but his shoulders were relaxed and subtle he tried to be, you could feel the relief rolling off of him in waves. “Second, fucking the receptionist does sound like a terrible idea because what if they do fuck our reservation because things go south? Just find someone at a club like the rest of us. But fucking someone else is a non-issue, get all the ass you want.”

“Well glad to know I have the Gojou Satoru thumb of approval,” you smiled and Satoru grinned in return, giving you a nudge with his elbow and you nudged him back. Underneath the calm, you were a storm of turbulent emotions. You weren’t surprised, your feelings had been confirmed. This wasn’t a Disney movie. You weren’t Tiana and he wasn’t Naveenー you weren’t going to turn this commitment-phobe into something he wasn’t. Yet the pain of the confirmation echoed in your chest. “Well, not when it comes to the receptionist.”

“Because no one fucks someone with the power of their reservation at their fingertips, that’s like,” Satoru searched his mind for the perfect example. “Handing over the poison to a chef and that chef was the person you were planning on poisoning.” So is continuing to sleep with someone who didn’t want the same things as you.

You couldn’t help laughing at your idiocy, relieved that Satoru took it as a humorous dig at his less than perfect metaphor. “I’m still fucking the receptionist if they’re hot.”

“I hope they’re married and old, how about that?”

“I’ve always liked them with a little salt and pepper. I fucked your prematurely whitening headass, didn’t I?”

“First of all, this is all natural-”

You’ve doomed yourself.

iii. red tide

Denial.

Anger.

Bargaining.

Depression.

Acceptance.

Those are the five stages of grief. It was certainly the steps that you experienced when the fact your period was late hit you while you were floating when Utahime gasped about the sea turning red.

Red tide, it was the first you’d ever seen it. But that excitement or concern about the possibility of what that meant completely subsided as you stared at the reddening shoreline when you realized a noticeable absence of red that week.

There was no way you were late for any particular reason. This was one of those flukes, your period always had a tendency to be finicky. It would be early or late at its convenience, never mind you being the one suffering. That’s why it was absolutely ludicrous that you left the beach to buy a pregnancy test.

And if you were the word you refused to think, it was your own damn fault for playing with karma the one time you decide to trust Satoru’s pullout game. Both of you were stupid, very very turned on and stupid and you should have just waited to get a condom.

But in the chance you weren’t pregnant, you swore you were going to remain celibate the rest of your university experience. You’d focus on other things, like journaling consistently like you said you would when you were writing your New Year’s revolutions.

Bargaining means nothing to biology, however, that was what you took as the universe’s answers when you were forced to look at the positive result staring back at you.

A lot of thoughts would run through a person’s head at an unplanned pregnancy resulting from a very ill-advised friends with benefits relationship.

Were you still in depression? Or had you reached acceptance yet? You weren’t entirely sure as you stared out the sparkling sea. Your sight blurring the stars above and the stars below did little reassure you as the possibilities ran through your mind.

What would you tell Satoru?

How would he react?

Would he think this was why you asked him about where your relationship was supposed to be heading?

Would assume the worst of you and accuse you of trying to trap him into a relationship when it was clearly supposed to be no strings attached from the beginning?

You didn’t know which unknown would hurt you more.

I should really decide on whether or not I’ll keep it to begin with before I start with all the scenarios, you inhaled deeply with shudder but you didn’t bother to wipe your tears. The blurriness was your own punishment. If I don’t, I never have to tell him anything. We can just cut this off and he’ll be none the wiser.

It was the most optimal scenario when you were still in college. You were barely handling the fees you currently had to pay for school, a child definitely wouldn’t help with that.

Was it too late to find something unhealthy to use as a coping mechanism?

“Yo,” you could have laughed bitterly. Of course, this is when Satoru shows up now. Right after you’ve isolated yourself away from everyone else on the more populated part of the beach. He was grinning, you could hear it in his voice. “[Fir]- hey are you alright?”

Great.

“Yeah, it’s just, you ever see something so beautiful you want to cry? It’s one of those things,” when he looked unsure, you grinned widely and wiped your tears. You didn’t need him to suspect a damn thing. “Seriously, dude, this was the reason I wanted to go into marine biology as a kid. I saw a picture of it once and decided, I wanna see that too. It’s just a surreal moment for me.”

At your reassurance, Satoru sighed, “geez, don’t freak me out like that.” You snorted as he settled next to you and you couldn’t think of anything humorous to say.

“Pretty cool, right?” The blue of the bioluminescence was reminiscent of his eyes, the thought crossed your mind now that he was in front of you.

Satoru whistled, impressed, “yeah but what is it?” He slapped a foot down on the ground, whistling again at the additional sparkling at the stimulus. “You’re the marine biologist, explain the science to me.”

“Sea sparkle,” you told him with a snort, heart drumming all the while. “I never thought I’d see something like this in my life. Red tides are signs of algal blooms are going to happen. They can be harmful but sometimes, completely harmless. This is the completely harmless kind,” a sparkling wave rolled across your feet as if to prove your point. “Well, technically harmless, there’s some conflicting evidence on whether or not it’s okay to swim in. We shouldn’t touch or swim in it to be safe. It’s just been a childhood dream of mine to do this, so don’t tell my friends in the not-dumb-scientist community. And wash your skin really really well tonight before going to bed.”

A grin blossomed on his face in his usual expression of mischief, “I ain’t no snitch.”

“Good because if you do I’m telling Shoko it was you that ate her leftovers,” you stuck your tongue out petulantly and Satoru kicked a splash at your thigh.

“Anyways,” Satoru drawled, observing the glow of his footsteps in the sand. “How long will it last?”

“It depends, sometimes a week. Sometimes a month,” definitely longer than the two of you and the situationship you’ve maintained thus far. “Once the food source runs out, they’re out. But hopefully they’ll be here the rest of our vacation, it’s pretty cool, right?”

“Yep, pretty damn cool,” he repeated like you hadn’t already asked that question earlier.

Satoru wasn’t yours, nothing was going to change that.

iv. ebb

If I’m not going to tell him, I need to leave.

That was the conclusion you came to after ultimately deciding to keep your child. Gojou Satoru wasn’t yours to keep, that was more than apparent. You wouldn’t force him to stay by means of a pregnancy.

You weren’t the first single mother in existence, you doubted you’d be the last. You’d do everything, without his help. Everything would be figured out in due time, it didn’t matter the run around you would have to take.

It took a week after the trip for you to come to that conclusion, packing your bags so you could head home. You’d transfer to a different school, there was no way you’d be able to keep a pregnancy underwraps on campus. Especially not from your friends.

You tried to distance yourself from your friends slowly, but even an inch was noticeable.

You alright?

What kind of sadists are your professors if you’re this busy?

Just let me know if you need me to come over some kind of distraction. Sorry for coming over earlier unannounced, I shouldn’t have assumed. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.

Those were the texts Satoru sent you the most. If any your friends doubted you, it seemed Satoru doubted you the most despite your reassurance that once you got your workload more manageable you’d be more available. You told him things were fine, maybe he just doubted you because you never told him he couldn’t come over whenever he felt like it. That was how things had been since you became friends.

Your place was his place, his place was yours.

That’s why Shoko had to be at your apartment, arms crossed and looking thoroughly tired.

“What’s been up with you anyway?” Shoko barged into your apartment before you could stop her. “Satoru’s been driving me insane asking me to check on you.” So she said, but you saw the worry on her face even if she tried to hide it. “So what’s going on? He says he’s pretty sure something is going on and you don’t want to tell him. Are you failing a class or something?”

“Nothing,” you told her a little too quickly and the brunette gave you a look that said ‘girl, please’. If your attempt to look as composed as possible wasn’t doing you favors, neither was how messy your room was. “Seriously, Shoko, I’m fine. Satoru’s just being overdramatic. It’s Satoru, you should know this. He went to your clinic once for almost breaking a nail.”

Shoko rolled her eyes at the memory, “yeah but now he’s pestering me to see if you’re actually fine or if you’re just trying to shut him out,” she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose before the concern peeps out of her face. “He said once in high school Suguru pushed him away and stuff went bad between them for a while. He felt like it was his fault for not trying hard enough to see what was bothering him. The rest of us are being chill about everything but we are worried too, you know. Just considerably less dramatically than others.”

That made your heart twist in both in the best and worst ways.

“It’s…” you took a step back and held yourself. “It’s fine. Tell Satoru he’s just being dramatic.”

“Then why is your suitcase out?” [Color] stared into brown as Shoko’s look told you that she wouldn’t drop it until you came clean to her. “Is it that serious? I won’t force you to talk about it, but I at least want to know how okay you are and it’s something you can manage on your own. That’s all, I promise I won’t say anything to Satoru if you really don’t want him knowing,” she’s the most gentle you’ve ever seen her. Only Utahime is privy to the softest of Shoko’s expressions but you can’t help but appreciate the look of worry she has. But I don’t want you to just up and disappear on us either.”

You opened your mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “I,” you licked your lips and sat down on your couch. “I’m thinking of transferring to another school.”

Shoko peers into your face, “and you’re worried about how we’ll take it?”

You shook your head. “I am worried about that but, I’m more worried about the why I need to leave. My parents will probably freak out too, but I’m going to promise them this isn’t going to stop me from pursuing my education.” Wide as her eyes already were, Shoko’s eyes were practically the size of dinner plates. You cut her off before she could say anything else. “I’m pregnant. I found out on the trip we took.”

��

“It’s Satoru’s,” it wasn’t a question.

Your silence was enough of an answer.

“You’re plan was to transfer schools because you don’t want to tell him you’re pregnant?” Shoko’s eyes were wide and you looked away from her. “[First], you can’t expect me to not tell him about-”

Your eyes snapped back to look at her, “you can’t tell him about this.”

Shoko shook her head, “this isn’t just your kid-”

“I’m the one who’s pregnant, I’m the one who decides what to do with it! It’s none of his business!”

Shoko probably would have slapped you if you weren’t expecting, “it’s his kid too, of course it’s his business!”

“Fine,” you muttered coldly, fixing your friend with a cold stare. “I’ll tell him if you can tell me you genuinely think it’s going to go well. That you can really Gojou Satoru dropping everything to become a father for a kid he never planned on having with someone he never planned on being with. Mr. Heir of the Gojou Conglomerate Satoru,” you remember his genuine fear and subsequent genuine relief. “Hell, that he won’t think I tried babytrapping him because I asked him recently if he saw what we had going anywhere and he clearly didn’t want that. And even if he doesn't, do you think his parents would be happy with this? Truly?”

Shoko couldn’t say anything.

You shook your head with a humorless huff, “yeah, that’s what I thought too.” You paused to close your eyes and inhale deeply before looking at your friend once more. “I’m not telling him anything. I don’t need his help to raise this baby, I can do this myself.”

Shoko eyes are dark and you knew she was second guessing everything. “[First]-”

“You can’t tell him anything. Not even Suguru, especially not Suguru. He’d tell him right away.” Suguru was your friend, he was a great friend even. But you knew where his loyalties lied. He’d tell Satoru in a heartbeat. “Please,” you pleaded. “I’m asking you as your friend.”

Shoko reached for the pack of cigarettes sticking out of her pocket before dropping her hand to the side. Right, your pregnancy. 

You looked at her in desperation, biting your lip. “Please, I’d never ask you this if it wasn’t important. Satoru doesn’t want me,” your eyes stung at the admission even if you accepted that truth ages ago. “Not the way I want him.”

“I,” Shoko released a shaky breath. “I won’t say anything. I promise.”

You dropped out of school without a word to your friends before the month ended.

v. moon

五条・五月。

Gojou Itsuki; you considered writing that on her birth certificate when she was born. Instead, it was your last name Itsuki received.

五, that was the only part of Satoru you would give her, the ‘five’ in Gojou. You promised that little girl you would love her five times as much for his absence.

vi. flow

That all brought you back to now in the present, Gojou Satoru sitting beside you on a park bench while you daughter looked nervously between you both. “Go on then,” you sweep your hand in the direction of the swings. “I’ll be sitting right here, okay? Have some fun with the other kids.”

Yet like moth to a flame, the man with snowy white hair is all your daughter can focus on. “But who is he?”

Satoru opens parts his lips and you beat him to the introductions, “he’s just an old friend of Mama’s, that’s all. Like Aunt Shoko. We haven’t seen each other in a while and we just want to catch up, that’s all. Right?” You shoot Satoru a pleading look.

“That’s right,” Satoru beams. “Maybe I can push you on the swings later.” That makes Itsuki grin back widely. She looks so much like him that there is no denying who she is to him. You know it and so does he.

The smile drops the moment Itsuki is out of an earshot. “You really never planned to tell me about her,” his eyes that normally remind you of crystal clear seas look more akin to frigid chips of ice as he looks at you. “You stop talking to me, you block me on everything out of nowhere and when you dropped out of school, I had no idea where you were-”

“Satoru, you have to understand,” you start, it sounds weak even to you.

Satoru looks at you with a look of pure offense. You can read his mind clearly, “What is there to understand?”

“This was the best outcome for everyone involved. You, me and Itsuki.”

“That isn’t the kind of thing you decide on your own, it takes two to make a child, [First]!”

“We’re not arguing in front of my daughter, Gojou Satoru.”

“No,” the smile that spreads across Satoru’s face is feral. You’ve seen that smile before, one he had whenever he was on the brink of swinging and starting a fight. Never before had that smile been directed at you. “She’s our daughter. My daughter. And I had to find out from Shoko five years after she’s been born that she ever existed in the first place!”

“Like you wanted to be a father anyway,” you hiss, glancing at the growing concern on Itsuki’s face.

“You didn’t even bother asking me what I wanted,” Satoru snaps back. “I would have helped. I want to help.”

“I didn’t want or need your help then and I sure as hell don’t need it now,” you stand up, swinging your wrist away from the large hand that tries to stop you. “You aren’t even her birth certificate,” Satoru flinches like you shot him. “Not your name, not your birthday, not anything. Itsuki’s never even asked about her father,” a lie. It isn’t nearly so frequent as to be considered a problem, but Itsuki did ask about the whereabouts of her father every so often. “It’s just us, Itsuki, I keep telling you that.”

“Do I have another mommy then?”

“No, it’s just us.”

Still, she asks. But Gojou Satoru didn’t need to know about that. “Just go the hell away and leave us alone. I’m not asking for your help, I’ve been doing this alone so far and I plan to keep it that way.”

You take Itsuki home, telling her not to mind the sad-looking man you left on the bench.

“Before you say anything,” Shoko starts when she answers the phone. “I know you’re pissed off.”

“No shit,” you all but seethe at your closest friend. Itsuki is asleep and it takes all of your willpower to not turn a firm but loud whisper into shrieks of hysteria. “Shoko, what the-”

“[First], I had to tell him,” Shoko sighs and you can practically smell the nicotine through. “I get it, you were scared back then but Satoru deserved to know he is a father. Itsuki deserves a chance to get to know her father!”

“You don’t get to decide what my kid needs,” you retort immediately. “We have been doing just fine without him in our lives and that’s how I wanted to keep it. Now she keeps asking about the man with the white hair and why he looked so sad and-”

“This isn’t one of those situations where you had a surrogate and did this all on your own, [First]. And he isn’t some random stranger you met some campus party years ago, this is a friend! Why on earth would you tell him that you never put him on the birth certificate.”

“Was. He was a friend,” you correct her. You push back the memories of late night study sessions gone awry by Satoru shoving his phone in your face to show you some video in his recommended list. You ignore the creeping reminders of sharing shit-eating grins, waiting for the moment Suguru learned that you changed his autocorrect for chocolate into something stupid. “We haven’t been friends in years, we’re just old school acquaintances at this point. You know why I never told him about her. And I said it so he would have an out; he doesn’t need to stick around to be her father.”

“And what if she gets tired of you skirting around her questions about him?” Shoko shoots back without giving you a moment to reply that you would handle it if it ever got to the point that it became a problem. “You might be able to skirt around it now but when she gets older she is going to ask and ask and askー and she is going to keep on asking before she does research of her own! There was no way you’d be able to keep this a secret for the rest of her life, what were you planning to do then?!”

“… I was going to figure that out by then.”

“Right and that was going to go by so smoothly and Itsuki wouldn’t feel hurt or betrayed you took away the choice for her to get to know her dad. That could ruin your entire relationship with her.”

“You couldn’t have at least asked?!”

“You never let me! I’m sorry, I’m sorry I betrayed your trust and said things behind your back. I told him to at least let me call and tell you that he knew, but he wanted to meet Itsuki.”

“I just…” your back hit the wall and you slid to the floor, resting your head on your knees. “I don’t know what to do. I didn’t think I would ever see him again.”

There’s silence when Shoko hesitates to reply to your tired voice, “look, I get it. As much as I can try to get it, anyway.” There is only so much that your child-free doctor of a friend can relate to when it comes to your situation. Things worked out perfectly for her when she fucked a friend, Utahime and Shoko’s names were written in the stars. You only admit your envy on lonely nights when thoughts of university days past make a reappearance.

“Satoru is a lot of things. He’s a clown, he’s insufferable and he’s Gojou Satoru that’s enough trouble as it is,” much to your chagrin, you can’t help snorting at her comment. “But he should have a chance to get to know his daughter. You’re a great mom, you’ve been doing great without him. I’ve seen you handle everything, you even went back to school to get your degree. You’ve got the job, everything. I’m not trying to say you need his help, I just want you to be open to the idea of letting him get to know her.”

You think of Itsuki and her questions and the look of hurt that graced Satoru’s face earlier that afternoon. “I don’t want Itsuki to get attached to him only for him to take off,” but a bitter taste fills your mouth at your words. I’m only using Itsuki as an excuse, you can only admit to yourself. The one who doesn’t want to see her father is me.

Fearful you may have been, it was no excuse to keep her away from her father.

“If he does that, I’ll kill him myself. But he wants to be there,” Shoko promises, her voice the softest its been the entire conversation. “He wants to get to know her. She looks just like him.”

She does.

You grab a baby wipe, rolling your eyes in amusement, “Itsuki, you’re getting syrup all over your face, hold still,” gently, you wipe away the sugary mess on her face before it dries and becomes even stickier. Itsuki always leaves the table looking like she’s been off to war. “You definitely don’t get your messy eating habits from me. Let me clean your hands and the fork too.”

Itsuki’s eyes sparkle curiously, “is Daddy a messy eater?”

You look at your daughter, her white hair pulled into pigtails by pastel knockerballs and her blue eyes that sparkle with hope that you’ll have some sort of answer as to the mystery of her secret parent she doesn’t realize she’s already met. “Yeah,” you whisper softly, the ghost of smile on your lips. “He got pretty messy whenever we ate.”

“Really?”

“Yep, and he would always steal the chips out of my bag whenever he thought I wasn’t looking,” you smile knowingly. He isn’t the only one guilty of such a crime. “Kinda like how someone always takes extra bites out of my pudding cups when she thinks I’m not looking.” Itsuki erupts into giggles as you pinch her cheeks now free of syrup. “You really want to meet your papa, don’t you,” you ask almost weakly, resting your hand on the table.

With a nod of excitement, Itsuki answers your question with an unmistakable yes.

“What if Mommy brings Daddy to pick you up from daycare soon? Would you like that?”

Itsuki gasps in disbelief, “Really?!”

Your nerves don’t show as you grin in return, “really.”

The first few rings you wait for Satoru to pick up the phone later in the day are painful.

I should have just asked Shoko to do this, you pace anxiously in the employee parking lot of your job. A childish part of you wishes you had asked your friend seeing as she had already spilled the beans to you. But you remember the more than subtle tone in her voice when she mentioned the other day that Satoru’s number hadn’t changed in all the years you spent out of his life. He’s the father of your child, [First], you scold yourself. Get a grip.

A second later when he picks up the line, you almost hang up in a panic.

“… Hey, [First],” he sounds like he’s grinning but it lacks his usual bravado. “You didn’t change your number.”

“Neither did you,” you reply nervously, fiddling with the fabric of your uniform as the expected awkward silence filled the air. Five years ago, Satoru was one of the easiest people in the world to talk to. Annoying and arrogant at times, most of the times even, but still easy. He spoke his mind clearly; it’s hard reconciling that person with the silence on the other side of the phone. “I shouldn’t have kept Itsuki from you,” you finally begin. “And I shouldn’t have said what I did yesterday, you have a right to be mad at what I did. I’m sorry.”

Satoru’s sigh is slow, “why didn’t you tell me in all these years? If Shoko never said anything, were you really not going to tell me about her at all?”

“Can we not-”

“No, I get to know why you didn’t want to let me know I had a daughter,” Satoru’s voice hardens and you know that running away isn’t an option. Old habits seem to die hard. “You didn’t even tell me you were pregnant.”

“I was scared, okay?” Scared and pathetically in love with someone who didn’t want you back. “I didn’t know how you were going to react… and I didn’t know if you would want to be part of the baby’s life if I decided to keep it. We weren’t even a couple. I freaked out and thought this was best course of action.”

“I would have helped, I would have been there. We were friends, [First],” you can’t tell if he sounds more angry or sad with your younger self’s line of reasoning. “You really thought I would have let you done everything on your own? I would have had your back from day one.”

“…. I’m sorry, I can’t take it back but I’m sorry,” you rest your back against the side of your car. The breeze on your skin doesn’t calm you as much as you’d like.

Satoru sighs again and he’s quiet, contemplative and your heart races wondering what is going through his mind. Would he curse you? Maybe he would take you to court for his parental rights. Instead, Satoru peacefully asks, “what’s she like?”

“Adorable,” your lips quirk slightly at the thought of your child. “I’m pretty sure Shoko’s probably shown you some pictures, so you probably know that already.” Painfully adorable and the entire world knew it, it’s a blessing she isn’t nearly as much of a troublemaker as her father. If she were, you don’t doubt Itsuki would get away with most of her ‘crimes’. “She’s a sweet girl, if she sees a caterpillar on the neighbor’s strawberries, she’ll pick it up and ask if we can take it to the park so it can eat there instead.”

You both share a laugh at that. “She’s smart too, she just sucks things up like a sponge. And she’s popular at daycare, you know,” she gets it from her father, that is easy to admit. Satoru definitely surpasses everyone you know, yourself included, when it comes to attracting people to him. Even when he’s annoying you can’t help but be drawn in. “She’s good at making friends, always looks out for the ones there who have a harder time connecting with people.”

“It’s nice to know she got all her charm and good looks from me,” Satoru chuckles smugly. “It’s a no-brainer the people love her, I expect nothing less from my kid.”

“Oh shut up,” yet you can’t deny his claim. She is Gojou Satoru’s daughter through and through. “She’s a lovable kid; Itsuki was born for it.”

“Was Itsuki the only name in the running?”

“It’s a pretty name, isn’t it? There were others in the running though,” you count down on your fingers the various options you ultimately decided against. “Itsuki stuck out the best.”

“What characters did you use to write her name?”

“The characters for ‘Five’ and ‘Moon’,” you answer softly, remembering the various combinations you could have gone with. Ultimately, there was only one that you could have gone with. “I got the idea from your last name, I… I wanted her to have a part of you with her even if she didn’t know you.”

There’s a pause then a shaky breath. “Gojou Itsuki,” Satoru says finally, sounding a million miles away despite being just on the other line.

“She has my name,” you tell him gently.

“I know,” Satoru replies softly yet there’s a tinge of emotion you can’t quite place. Melancholy? Acceptance? Perhaps a little bit of both. “I just wanted to try it out.”

Silence falls over you both again and you hug yourself despite the sweltering heat of the afternoon. Shoko is right, your secret wasn’t one that was sustainable. “Do you,” your lips suddenly feel too dry and you lick your lips. “Do you want to pick her up from daycare with me today? She wants to meet you, she always has. She even asked about you this morning.”

He does. It shouldn’t surprise you that he does and it doesn’t. Still, your heart pounds when you see him show up at the daycare your daughter spends a large portion of her time at. “Hi,” you greet him nervously.

“Hey,” even though he’s grinning, his smile is a bit off kilter. A sugary pink bag hangs from one his arms. “I uh, didn’t know exactly what sort of things she like but I got her a present. You said she’s really into whale sharks, right? So I got her a plush.”

You don’t have the heart to tell him Itsuki already has five. She’d love his gift anyway. Maybe the one he got her would become her favorite.

“She might adore that more than you,” you joke but you give him a nod a beat later. “But don’t worry about what happened last time. She’ll be happy to see you in a better mood, she was worried about you when we left the park.” Maybe that was the father-daughter bond at work, or maybe it was your child’s empathetic nature.

Maybe both.

You already discussed things with him after he agreed to come meet her properly. He could get to know Itsuki, could even meet the daycare attendants. It would just be a while before you’d be able to trust him with being an emergency contact.

“Hey, Choso,” you wave at the man with pigtails. Intimidating as he looks, his daycare is surprisingly popular due to the low rates. He wanted a place where his youngest brother could grow up happily with his friends. “This,” you start before Choso can question you, gesturing to Satoru. “… This is Itsuki’s father. You’ll uh, probably see him coming around a lot more when I pick her up from now.”

There’s a lengthy pause.

“Nice to meet you,” Choso’s tone says otherwise. If it were possible, Choso’s face would be place right under the definition of judgement. He is definitely deeming Satoru a deadbeat that was finally crawling out from the woodworks.

Satoru ignores it with the air of confidence he didn’t have a few minutes ago outside, “thanks for looking after my kid while [First] was busy. I haven’t been around but I’m hoping to make up for all the lost time.”

You doubt that was meant to be a dig, you still take it as one. “Itsuki’s playing with Yuuji and the rest of their friends right now. You’ll see her at the playground,” he gestures at the infant in his hands. “I have a diaper to change.”

“Don’t worry, I got it,” you wave. “And tell Kechizu that he needs to stop cooking better than me. The other day Itsuki said she liked his lunches more than mine.” That manages to get a snicker out of the man. 

“Itsuki!” You call out once you’re on the playground and you see her eyes light up with recognition and a ‘Mommy!’ Even funnier is her little excited jig before she runs over to hug you although she stops as she recognizes the man beside you.

She glances between the two of you and you smile reassuringly. “Why are you getting so shy? Don’t you remember what I promised at breakfast?”

Itsuki’s eyes widen and her jaw drops wordlessly. You suppose she might not have truly been expecting you’d make good on your promise. At least, definitely not so soon.

“Itsuki, this is Satoru, your father,” you tell her gently, smile small. “Although I suppose, you already met him yesterday. It just didn’t go at all the way it was supposed to.” But what was done was done; Itsuki deserved to know her father. You wouldn’t take away that choice because of your own fears anymore.

“Daddy?” Itsuki asks Satoru, voice just above a whisper.

Satoru nods, settling down on one knee to look her in those familiar blue eyes. “That’s right, kiddo,”

“Daddy?!” Itsuki hops in disbelief, looking between the two of you before her eyes settle on yours again. “It’s really Daddy?!” You aren’t sure if Itsuki knows whether she wants to cry or run away in disbelief that this moment is finally happening.

You knelt beside your old friend, “say hi to your father, Itsuki.”

The tears suddenly well in her eyes but despite Satoru’s panicked voice, you can tell they aren’t sad ones as Itsuki throws her arms over Satoru’s shoulders. And if your eyes are warmer than they were a few moments ago, you don’t mind it as you watch you’re daughter hug her father for the first time.

Itsuki adores Satoru, that’s what you learn in the span of a single afternoon. And yes, she does love the whale shark plush he got her more than the other five you already purchased. She cried even harder when he hugged her back, softly promising he wasn’t going anywhere. That he’d always be there and he would come see her as much as she wanted.

She adores how he took her out for ice cream before dinner and how even after dinner, he purchased even more dessert. 

He was weak to her with no immunity built up over the past five years.

This was why he couldn’t say no when she pleaded he stayed over to at least watch a movie with her before bedtime. Not that you had any room to talk considering how easily you agreed.

“So she had to get Merlin’d?” Satoru asks incredulously as the credits roll across the screen.

“That is not what was supposed to happen, the beautiful girl is subjective to the one who got cursed!” You tell him, flabbergasted that that was the conclusion he came to. Red Shoes and the Seven Dwarves is far more than a comedy. It’s social commentary! “Not to mention the body positive message it sends with the fact that shoes represent societal standards of beauty along with the objectification and idolization Snow experiences while wearing them which further supported the fact that had she had gone to the F7 as herself they wouldn’t have he-”

“Nope, too late. I like my idea better,” you could strangle this man.

“You’re going to ruin Itsuki’s perception of love,” you shoot Satoru a look of amusement and annoyance. At the very least, you know he enjoyed it.

“Good, I don’t need some snot-nosed brat trying to win over my kid that’s obviously aroace,” Satoru says firmly as he picks up your very much fell-asleep-before-the-movie-ended daughter. It’s almost uncanny how natural it looks to you, like he had been around from the start. He probably should have been. You were the one who took that choice from him and made him an unintentional deadbeat.

“Satoru, she’s five and doesn’t even know what that means yet,” you say instead, Satoru oblivious to the thoughts running around your head. One day you’d tell Itsuki the truth, once she was a little older.

“What? She told me she was aroace when I asked earlier today,” Satoru tells you petulantly, moving away when you try to hold her. 

“Only because you told her you’d give her ice cream if she agreed to be,” ice cream she wasn’t even supposed to eat because it would spoil her appetite for dinner in a moment you weren’t supposed to see. “It means you’ll love Daddy forever and think everyone else is gross,” Satoru happily exclaimed, holding a cup of Itsuki’s favorite salted cookie dough ice cream. The five year old happily obliged to his whims.

Maybe Satoru will be right in his hopeful predictions that romance will be the last thing on your daughter’s mind in the future thought. On the other hand, maybe he’d be dead wrong and forced to tolerate whoever she brings home in the future.

“They’re just like you, Dad, but they’re brilliant!” She’ll say, hearts in her eyes.

You almost wanted to manifest the opposite of his wishes, only to see the face Satoru would make. It is far too early to be thinking about such things however.

“I don’t want my kid to date anyone, sue me. So I’m manifesting early,” Satoru pouts as he starts takes her to her room to lay her across her bed.

“You’re so stupid,” you roll your eyes and shake your head in exasperation, but a look of fondness is apparent in your expression.

Maybe you were born to see this moment, the moment you could see that Gojou Satoru is absolutely smitten with his daughter. You can see it in how he presses a kiss to the temple of her forehead as he takes her to his room.

Itsuki was born to be loved, she makes it too easy just by being herself. Suddenly your fears from before felt unfounded. You knew underneath the rejection of Satoru in your life that he would have been there and he would have been more than happy to shoulder the burdens of parenthood even in a platonic way. You stop yourself from wondering what that path might have looked like. You made your choice and this is path you’re on now, there is no other way but forward.

“I’ll have you know,” Satoru points a finger gun at you smugly when he returns, child-free, “my kid thinks I’m the smartest man in the world. So one of you is lying and I know it’s not her.”

“Your kid is biased and spoiled from snacks and gifts,” you retort softly with a grin.

“I don’t hear the voices of the naysayers praying for my downfall, sorry,” you both release a chuckle at your exchange and a comfortable silence falls between you both. “I should probably get going I guess.”

You smile at him politely, “we should do this again sometime, I wanna see what else in our movie collection Itsuki will have you watch next.”

Satoru grins, “it better be the Digimon reboot DVD set I saw in the corner,” he pauses before asking you seriously, “our kid does like Digimon, right?”

“You’ll be happy to know that her favorites are Palmon, Kokomon and Wormmon in that order,” you tell him smugly. How could he think otherwise? Did he forget who you were? “The plushies are just in the toy chest she has at the foot of her bed.”

Your child had to be a fan of Digimon, she had no other choice.

translation:

五月 five moons (same character in Gojou as well as a radical in Satoru) ⤷ 五 ・ いつ - five ⤷ 月 ・ つき - moon

part 2 ->

[damiansgoodgirll]

can you please give us damian having to tell readers he got moved to smack down and she’s on raw please ❤️❤️❤️

damian priest x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!!

‼️some feels, love and angst‼️

stay, somehow

“y/n…” damian starts, his voice tight like a rope about to snap. he won’t meet your eyes. he’s staring at the floor, jaw clenched, hands fisted at his sides like he’s bracing for impact.

your stomach churns. you don’t like this. damian is always so confident, so sure of himself, but now he looks… afraid.

“what’s wrong?” you ask, stepping closer.

he flinches. just barely. but you see it.

he exhales sharply through his nose and finally looks at you, eyes dark and stormy “i got the promotion, smackdown.”

for a second, you don’t understand why that’s bad. this is something he’s worked so hard for. countless nights spent training, perfecting his mic skills, practicing new moves until his body hurt.

you should be happy for him. and you are. but something isn’t right.

“that’s amazing!” you say happily “but… why do you look like someone just died?”

and then it clicked.

you were, are on raw.

he swallows hard. his fingers twitch like he wants to reach for you but can’t “i have to leave you behind.”

oh.

everything inside you goes still.

“what?” your voice is barely above a whisper “no, no damian…you will still see me…not as much as we use to” your heart broke “but nothing will change”.

“it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. if i say no, i might never get something like this again but i can say no. i can ask them to keep me on raw” he knows they don’t have many plans for him on raw but he can stay, for you. he will stay.

it makes sense. of course it does. but logic doesn’t stop the ache blooming in your chest.

“look at me, you’re not leaving me behind” you say, and it’s not a question. you tried to bring him some comfort that was missing.

his hands finally unclench, and now they’re shaking “i have a choice, i can stay on raw.”

you laughed “damian…it’s not the end of the world, we can work it out. we always do.”

you’re going to miss having him driving you to the arena, and then straight back to the hotel. you’re gonna miss him carrying your luggage, him pretending to be annoyed by your whines about how heavy your luggage is.

or the sleepless nights spent together making love in a random hotel room. the sleepless nights spent watching movies that none of you cared about.

but he has this new opportunity and you aren’t the reason he is going to fuck up his career.

silence stretches between you, heavy and suffocating.

he looks at you like he wants to argue, like he wants to fight back, but instead, he just says, “i love you” he takes a step forward “i do. i love you, te amo y/n. this doesn’t change that.”

“it doesn’t. you are my everything.”

he was going to miss you.

one or two days a week were left for you.

how was he going to survive? how were you going to survive?

he reaches for you then, fingers ghosting over your wrist, hesitant “please don’t hate me.”

your emotions fizzles out just like that, because how could you ever hate him? you’re not mad, you’re a little hurt, but beneath all of it, you still love him too.

so you let him hold you. his arms wrap around you tightly, like if he holds you close enough, maybe he won’t have to leave at all.

you let yourself lean into him, just for a moment.

you couldn’t lie. you were going to miss him. you got used to stay with him everyday, all days.

he sensed you were thinking about the whole situation.

“what happens now?” you ask against his chest.

his grip tightens “i don’t know.”

neither of you do.

but when he presses a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, something in your chest settles. because no matter what happens next, no matter where he goes, you were going to be there for him. even if it meant seeing each other once a week.

and somehow, that’s enough.

[fanfics-i-find-here]

Do I Know You? Part 13

Synopsis: You're having a girl's night with Steph and Cass, whether you want to or not.

Note: I enjoyed writing this chapter. It’s kind of a change of pace from what���s going on I think. And of course, a moment away from Jason (with deep regrets). Enjoy!!

Masterlist

With Jason out the door and said door locked, you sag against it with a labored sigh. You slide down until you’re sitting on the ground, and you take a moment.  You rub at your face. Part of you wants to open the door and tell Jason to come back, to stay with you forever and never leave. But you just can’t do that to him. Yesterday, he looked utterly exhausted, like he hadn’t slept once he brought you home and you almost told him to leave then. Instead, you let yourself relax in the safety of his touch and asked him to stay longer.  He looked better this morning, both when he was asleep and awake. He still looked sleepy in his rumpled clothes and a start of a scruff showing on his skin. Sleepy but not exhausted. You still felt guilty about him sleeping in the same clothes two nights in a row. You would be a bad friend if you made him stay any longer. Shuffling him out the door, you realized he didn’t even have a coat, despite for the moment that you thought Red Hood’s was his, the same that he had let you borrow many weeks ago. The Jar that you had placed in the corner of your mind, and nearly forgotten about, rattled a little. You didn’t have the energy to deal with it and blamed it on the still persistent headache you had.

Now, sitting on the ground, your headache was finally starting to dim, thanks to the pain meds Jason had you take. You became aware of the silence of your home, starting a creeping, anxious feeling in your chest. That wouldn’t do. You pull yourself to stand and start up your speaker to play some music. You were going to spot-clean your apartment, but Jason had already taken care of it. A shower it was then. You took a decent amount of time just untangling your hair, no conditioner and no brushing for two days had taken its toll. You took a painstakingly slow shower. Despite the pain meds, your back ached as you lifted your arms to wash your hair. You had to pause multiple times just to breathe normally. The conditioner followed the same slow process. You sat in the stream of warm water and tried to relax. You realized the warmth of the shower couldn’t match the heat of Jason’s body and choose not to think about that for too long. Two hours later, dressed in clean, not-so-matching pajamas (you had laughed once you noticed Jason had pulled a matching pair from the bottom of your drawer), you settle on the couch giving your body a break and mouthing along to the words of whatever song was playing.

You didn’t play your music too loud, trying to be a good neighbor, but you nearly missed the knocking on your door. It’s a quiet thing at first and you brush it off as something your mind made up (you wonder if you should text Jason to come back because your brain has already started hallucinating noises). The second round of knocks is a lot louder and it causes your shoulders to bunch up in worry. You turn on your couch to stare at the door, trying to will whoever it was to go away. Another, harder, round of knocking pulls you from your seat and to the door. You peek through the peephole into the hallway. You see curly blonde hair and then a warped face with green eyes. It takes you a minute to recognize who it is but once you do you unlock the door and open it.

“Steph?” you question, now face to face with the girl. She wastes no time working herself into your apartment with a grin.

“Hello, Honeygirl. I’ve missed you.” She’s carrying a number of bags and boxes. A lean figure with a mop of black hair follows her into your apartment carrying nearly the same amount of stuff. The items are set haphazardly on the ground, the island, and the dining table. Steph starts unpacking an ungodly number of snacks, skincare, movies, and games.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

“Well,…” Steph goes on a rant about how you were gone and she had to listen to gossip from Darla and that, while it was entertaining, she wasn’t you. So, she decided why wait for you to come to work when you can hang out elsewhere? Which is all well and good, except you had never told Steph where you lived.

“…and I brought enough face masks to last a lifetime, also I brought Cass,” your mouth shuts from where you were going to interject yourself into her ramble. Your eyes meet brown instead of the blue you had expected. In all honesty, you thought Steph had brought Tim with her.

“Cass?” the girl grins at you and you're pulled into a stronger hug than you anticipated from her.

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” Her voice is soft and calming compared to Steph’s frazzled state. Speaking of Steph, she was still ranting, something about if a card game is turned into dice is it still a card game?

As you pull away from Cass, she’s still smiling at you with excitement but you’re not sure why.

“Stephanie.” You say. Steph had never told you her full name, but you can only assume. She pauses in her ranting and unpacking and turns on you with a pout. She takes a few steps forward and drags you into her own hug, petting at your hair like you’re an inconsolable child.

“No, no, honey, you don’t call me Stephanie, only Steph.” You wrangle your way out of her hold with a laugh and finally shut your door, locking it again.

“Stephanie,” she opens her mouth to protest but you beat her to it, “What are you doing in my apartment?”

Steph gaps at you for a moment, trying to collect an answer but Cass answers for her.

“Jason” Steph throws her a warning look that Cass is unbothered by. She picks up the unpacking where Steph left off.

“What she means is,” Steph adds slowly, “Jason told us that you were involved in the whole penguin thing that’s on the news.” Steph’s face cringes as she offers the answer. Your brows furrow. Jason doesn’t really gossip, and you can’t imagine him just spouting out personal information about you. But then you remember. Steph is practically family. Your mind makes a connection, that Cass is most likely the sister that Jason mentioned once or twice. You understand oversharing with family. You used to tell your sister everything under the sun. You want to feel mad at Jason, but you aren’t. At least not yet.

“How’d you know where I live?” Steph seems startled and you get the feeling she had not prepared for any conversation referring to her and Cass’s sudden appearance in your home.

“Tracking,” Cass throws over her shoulder as she shuffles through the kitchen and turns on your oven. You think you should be concerned about Jason’s sister, who is apparently cooking something in your home, but your eyes are focused on Steph for an explanation, as Cass seems a woman of few words. Steph glares at Cass before meeting your eyes with a calmer look.

“Family tracking app. Jason’s been here for two days.” Steph explains and she seems proud of herself, but you cut it short.

“And how do you know my apartment number?” Steph sags again and Cass hops back into the conversation, now adding premade cookie dough balls to a cookie sheet. Again, you think you should be concerned that she’s already made herself at home but part of you is pleased that Jason’s sister seems comfortable doing what she wants in your apartment.

“Barbara.” She says. Steph lightens up.

“Barbara?” you ask having not heard the name before.

“Yes, Barbara,” Steph declares, “She’s the commissioner's daughter.” Steph’s eyes jump to the dining table where the stack of papers the commissioner dropped off were. “He was here, so we asked Babs to get the address from him.” You think Steph is bullshitting you. Actually, you know Steph is bullshitting you. You can’t imagine the commissioner just giving out addresses to his daughter if she asked, especially on active cases. You recognize the name Babs more than the name Barbara, but you don’t remember why. You throw all of this information to the back of your mind and decide this is all Jason’s doing. You could tell how much he didn’t want to leave you alone and you appreciated the persistence, grateful to him again for reading how much you needed people around you.

“Okay,” you finally say. Steph seems shocked for a moment before relaxing.

“Okay?” her voice pitches in question and it makes you smile.

“Yea, okay, I’m happy you’re here. I’m happy you're both here.” You throw a glance at Cass to see her already smiling softly at you. You wonder how much she knows about you, whether the information she received is from Jason or Steph, and whether or not it's good or bad. Steph hops on her feet wildly.

“Good, because I did not want to return this stuff. I may have bought too much.” She notes scanning the bags.

“No kidding, what did you bring?” you take a step forward to look through one of the bags.

“Everything you need for the best girls' night ever!” she begins unpacking the rest of the stuff explaining as she went. You glanced at Cass, perhaps as an explanation for Steph's over-preparedness. She just shrugs and brings her hand up to make a talking motion before helping unpack. The motion makes you laugh and Steph glances at you but keeps going.

Enough face masks to last a lifetime was an understatement. Between those, the ice cream, the cookies, and all the other snacks, you think all three of you could stay in your apartment for years and live off all of the skincare and sugary food. The line between self-care and self-destruction is nonexistent. Pizza was also ordered just to make sure you all got the carbs you need.  The evening went off without a hitch.  You played all kinds of games and you figured out why Steph had her question about a card game being a dice game. She had found a version of Phase 10 as dice instead of cards, you all just decided it made for a quicker game.

Through the course of the night, you come to understand that Jason and Cass were definitely siblings. She reminded you of him, or at least the way he’d been acting since he picked you up at the stupid warehouse. She touched you in a way that felt like constant comfort. A hand on your arm or shoulders pressed to yours, holding your hand in tense moments of a game. You were a little surprised by it, not expecting the girl you had just met to provide such comfort. Steph was touchy too, but you already knew that about the girl. She was more rambunctious about it. A quick second hug when she would win, a tug at your hand to drag you wherever she pleased in your apartment. It made you laugh at how different Cass and Steph were but they balanced each other out wonderfully. You also learned some new things about the girls. They were super competitive

They had shoved the coffee table against the wall to have a game of Twister. You explained that your back was hurt but you would happily spin the wheel and watch. They crowded you, asking when the last time you took a pain med and if you had been drinking water and something about pineapple. You were confused (especially about the pineapple thing) but happily answered. They shuffled you into the kitchen and medicated and watered you. You laughed at them. You felt like you were being babied. It didn’t upset you, but it made you realize that Jason had also been babying you the past two days, just more subtle than the girls. You think you like being cared about in such a manner. Once medicated, they settled you on the couch and prepared for Twister. They had a really intense stare-off before your first spin. Ten minutes into Twister, you learn that they are both extremely flexible. Cass more so than Steph but both would have beat you in the game easily. As time went on you became increasingly worried about the way their bodies would bend until Steph finally collapsed with a huff. Cass easily pulls herself out of the warp of her body and stands victoriously.

“You guys insane,” you say tossing the spinner to the side, “The human body shouldn’t move like that.” They both smile at you, Steph less gleeful than Cass.

“You should see when we play with the whole family. Cass and Dick are always the last standing. The true victor is unknown because we usually cancel the game to do something else.” Steph tells you from her seat on the floor.

“Dick?” you question, feeling odd saying the word to the girls.

“Yea, Dick. He’s an acrobat, that’s hardly an even playing field.” Steph huffs clearly missing your question. Cass sits next to you on the couch and actually answers your question.

“Brother. Richard but we call him Dick.”

“Oh” you nod in understanding and realize now would be a perfect time to be nosey.

“And the rest of your brothers?” you try to casually slip it into the conversation. Meeting Cass’s eye you think she can read you pretty easily. Steph begins to roll up the Twister mat as Cass smiles and answers you. She brings her hand up to count on her fingers.

“Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, Duke.”

“and of course the others like me” Steph does a jazz hand after she plops the mat in the corner of the room. She walks past you both and into the kitchen. You want to ask about that too, the “honorary siblings” Jason had mentioned, but you’ll come back to that later.

“Dick, Damian, and Duke? Did your guys' mom go through a phase of loving D names? Also insane to have that many kids. Are you close in age?” Cass’s eyes wrinkle in confusion from your questioning.  She answers your second question.

“Mostly,” she says, making you want to ask another question, but Steph returns with headbands and face mask packets. She works a headband over your head as she talks and you let her.

“Everyone is around the same age. Jason and Cass are about the same age, then there's me.” She cups her own face like she’s presenting herself before pulling out face masks for you to choose from, “Tim is like a few months younger than me and Duke’s almost a year younger than Tim. Dick is just super old and Damian is super young but he was a surprise so I don’t think I should hold against him, but I will.” Steph rants as she pulls your chosen sheet mask out and presses it to your face. By surprise, you assume an unexpected pregnancy and with that many kids, you can't imagine that surprise.

“Are any of the others unexpected?” you ask as Steph starts putting a mask on Cass. Cass gives you another confused side glance.

“I'm pretty sure Bruce did not expect Dick, and he definitely wasn’t expecting Tim, but he has a way of getting into people's business.” She pauses a second, “You know everyone was unexpected, except maybe Jason.” Bruce. There's that name again. It's complicated, Jason had said.

“Whose Bruce?” They both look at you confused now.

“What?” you start to become self-conscious for a moment before it passes.

“Jason hasn’t talked to you?” Cass asked, less confused and more like she was worried about you.

“We tend to steer clear of family talk.” You admit, feeling guilty. Steph nods, a look of understanding on her features.

“That makes sense for him.” She doesn’t pester you about it, Cass’s hand curls around your own and you’re once again shocked by how the girl has become so comforting in such a short time.

“Bruce is Dad,” Cass states with an earnest look.

“Oh, why does-” you pause unsure if this is a conversation you should have with them or with Jason, “Why does Jason call him Bruce then?”

They both look at you with realization in their eyes, which was kind of funny considering the face mask.

“Jason is adopted,” Steph says slowly, “So is Cass and Tim.”

“Oh,” you begin to erase everything you had concluded about the family and feel dumb for a moment. Jason had told you Bruce wanted to adopt Steph. You kick yourself for not using more context clues.

“and the others?” you ask trying to reassess everything you learned in the last ten minutes.

“Everyone is adopted” Steph confirms

“Except Damian,” Cass adds.

“Oh yea. He’s actually Bruce’s I forget that sometimes. He doesn’t even call Bruce Dad though.”

“His biological son calls him Bruce?” Steph looks at you with a conspiring grin, like this was some hilarious knowledge.

“He doesn’t call him Bruce, he calls him Father” Her voice pitches into a hoity-toity accent, “Like some child dying of the plague.” You laugh both at the description and the voice, your curiosity continues to peek about Jason’s family.

“Enough family business,” Stephs makes a shooing motion with her hand, “Let’s watch something.”

You want to ask more but the girls move to putting your living back into its original state and search for something to watch. You head to the kitchen to collect ice cream and cookies. You spot your phone on the counter and pick it up to check for messages. You have one from Darla and another from Jason. You open the one from Darla and find yourself grateful for opening it away from the girls.

Darla: How’s your sexcation going? Hope that boyfriend of yours is treating you right.

You flush reading the message and glance at the girls sitting on the floor debating the movie.  Clearly, Jason hadn’t given her any details when he called you out from work.

You: It’s not a “sexcation”  I’m recovering from trauma

You mean it only slightly joking. She answers almost instantly.

D: I’m sure that dick is traumatic.

 Your entire body warms over in embarrassment. She must not be at work. While Darla was mild-mannered and gossipy at work, off the clock she could be downright crass. Time for some honesty.

Y: I’m serious

Is all you send, hoping she would understand. You don’t want to have this conversation over text.

D: What’d he do to you? Do I need to call the cops?

You sigh in relief that she finally understands.

Y: Cops have already dealt with it He picked me up and he’s been taking care of me

D: Are you okay? Do you need anything? You should have called me.

You’re glad to know that she’s worried about you but you're not ready to admit that, at the time, Jason was the only person you could think of.

Y: I’m okay I’ll let you know if I need anything and I will fill you in when I come back to work

D: Okay, sweet thing. You call me if something else happens. Take it easy.

A different warmth overtakes your body, one of gratitude. You swipe out of her message and open Jason’s. You roll your eyes the moment you see it.

Jason: How are you feeling?

You ignore the question for your own.

Y: You're adopted?

He answers you in the time it takes for you to pull the ice cream from the freezer

J: Yea?

Y: I can’t believe you never told me!!!

J: Sweetheart

The one-word response makes your tummy roll and you can practically hear the chide in his voice without him being there.

Y: It explains so much about you

J: What’s that supposed to mean?

Y: Lol

You turn your phone off and perform an amazing balance act as you carry three spoons, your phone, two tubs of ice cream, and the plate of cookies into the living room (thank you practice as a waitress). You set the ice cream on the coffee table along with the spoons. You plop onto the couch between the girls, phone dropping to your lap, plate of cookies in hand.

“Is everything okay?” Steph asks as you settle.

“Yea, why?” she points to the phone in your lap. She must have seen you in the kitchen.

“Just people checking in” you add. A mischievous look slowly lights up her features.

“It wouldn’t happen to be a certain dark-haired boy, would it?” You turn slightly to face her, back to Cass, ready to argue when you're cut short by your phone ringing. You pick it up from your lap, and a photo of you and Jason meets your eyes. It was his contact photo, one of the few photos you had of him. You had taken the selfie when he had taken you to see the sunrise. It had been freezing, both of you wrapped to high heaven in beanies, scarves, and jackets. He had brought a blanket for you and wrapped it around your head and shoulders. You almost looked like a homeless person, but you had squeezed together for warmth. You had excitedly taken the picture, the orange of the sunrise lighting up your faces perfectly. Jason had actually smiled. It was your favorite.

If you had been looking up, you would have noticed Cass and Steph share a scheming look. Cass’s arms wrap around your shoulders, trapping your arms to your side. You had assumed she was just hugging you but then your phone is pulled from your hand. You reach for it but are halted by Cass’s hold, once again surprised by the strength of the girl. Steph looks far too giddy with your phone as she answers.

“Hello, Loverboy.”

“Stephanie!” you screech, trying to pull free from Cass with no luck (a choked panic attempts to claw its way into your chest, and you actively remind yourself that it’s just Cass). You hear a voice through the speaker but it's too low for you to understand what he’s saying to her.

“You worry too much. We’re just talking about you is all. It’s fine.” More talking comes from the phone and Steph throws you a get a load of this guy look. You huff as you still trying to wiggle free of Cass. You don’t think the girl is even struggling.

“It’s girls’ night that means no boys. Worry somewhere else” Your foot finally comes up and you kick the phone from her ear. She gawks at you in disbelief. You can feel Cass laughing as she finally releases you.

“I can't believe you two teamed up against me, " you complain as you pick your phone up from the ground. The call had ended, but you dared not call back in fear of the girls stealing your phone again. You do shoot him a quick text in apology before shoving your phone under your thigh.

“we’re just trying to hurry things along,” Cass says. She has a meaningful look in her eyes when you look at her, but you don’t understand it or the statement. You open your mouth to ask what exactly they’re hurrying along, but Steph cuts in before you can.

“Forget boys, it's movie and sugar time! Our ice cream will melt everywhere if we don’t eat it soon.” You eye the condensation that has started pooling around the containers and agree. You have questions you want to ask them, mostly about Jason, but you decide maybe for another time.

You settle back against the couch between them, a pile of blankets across the three of you. As the movie plays, the ice cream and cookies are passed around. Halfway through, a drowsiness overtakes. You feel pleasantly warm emotionally and physically. It's different than when Jason held you at night. This warmth makes you think of your sister. On the odd evenings, you were getting along and you would build a fort in your family living room and camp out on a Friday night. It was a feeling you didn’t realize you missed. A tender ache of grief that you're all too familiar with blooms in your chest but damps when you feel Steph settle her head on your shoulder and Cass turn to rest her head in your lap. You decide very quickly that you feel extremely fond of these two girls who have been in your life for a very short time.

Additional Note: Cass is really trying to hit that fast-forward button and Steph is trying to hold her back. I hope that I have a decent characterization of the girls. From the tidbits that I do know about them, they are very fascinating. We will have one more chapter with girls and then we will have our boy back. Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think!

Tag List: @little-miss-naill, @nikilolo787, @joonunivrs, @uzxotic, @qardasngan, @stormz369,  @g4bbi3xx, @iwatobiswimbros, @the-lonely-flute, @elz-xo, @gone-batty-fics, @princessesgarden, @notfckincreative, @love-theangel, @feyres-fireheart, @penguimlover23, @herodedicatedblog, @dearghostling

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

I love the Clone Wars, it’s a show I grew up on and it was a fundamental part of my childhood, but one of the things I can’t forgive it for characterisation-wise is Anakin. I have a complicated relationship with TCW Anakin where I either love him and think ‘yeah, that’s Anakin’ or I just grimace, because he feels so jarringly different from the Anakin established in the movies.

I know it stems from the backlash that portrayal of Anakin received, but I generally dislike the decision to make Anakin a more ‘acceptable’ masculine figure to speak. It’s in the little things too. He is not a rogue, charming hero when it comes to flirting with Padme. I can see him being that way when trying to flirt his way out of a situation, but Padme? He sucks at flirting with his wife in AOTC and ROTS and I find that endearing about him. He’s so overwhelmed by love and never properly learned how to convey that romantically. He’s also very prone to crying or almost crying when overwhelmed by his emotions, particularly anger — see him admitting his massacre to Padme in AOTC — but I don’t think we ever see him cry intensely in TCW, even in moments where movie!Anakin would. It’s like they’re afraid to make him vulnerable in that way, because so many perceived it as a flaw in his previous characterisation. But Anakin is a vulnerable character. He wears his heart on his sleeve even when he tries to hide it. He’s even afraid of his own emotional outbursts.

He’s angry, yes, but that anger doesn’t just manifest in yelling or violence. Anakin notoriously feels every emotion too deeply, and regularly flips between seeing Obi-wan as a perfect mentor and father/brother, to absolutely resenting him. He also sees Padme this way, which is shown in TCW, but it feels different than how we see it in the movies — again, Anakin in TCW has to be the pinnacle of masculinity, even when he’s being toxic and lashing out, he has to remain that rogue hero stereotype, which just doesn’t work for Anakin. I’d probably enjoy the Clovis Arcs a lot more if it delved into Anakin’s vulnerable, emotional state and Padme’s rationalisation of how Anakin is acting, internally defending him, rather than witnessing it on a surface level.

Again, I love the Clone Wars, for all its flaws and questionable choices, but there’s something to be said about how the character who is a very good portrayal of C-PTSD and BPD, alongside a stilted upbringing, has to be altered to be more acceptable to the general audience. He’s a mentally ill nineteen-year-old, leading an army and looking after a fourteen-year-old on a battlefield at the beginning of TCW, I think he deserves to be even more insufferable at the start.

[panelshowsource]

i have a lot of episode requests i'm working on so i'll make another post with those shortly!

———

this is such a fun question — i wish i had an answer! most of my "conspiracy theories" have more to do with certain comedians being misunderstood (in both good and bad ways), as people tend to want to like who they like and hate who they hate out of selfishness that is somewhat at odds with reality. at times. like, for example, not a lot of people want to talk about how many comedians actually didn't like sean lock at all in the early 00s because of how cutthroat and competitive he was on panel shows (mock the week flashbacks, anyone?); we don't enjoy thinking about that because, as fans, we all like sean and think he was a hilarious, honest, decent person. i could talk more about this but tbh defending someone i think people misunderstand or tearing down someone people love is kinda...not the kind of discourse i'm trying to do on this website 😅 anyways, that's where most of my theories lie (that and dating theories? maybe?), but that's not enough to call them conspiracy theories ig? this isn't a conspiracy theory, right? because i so passionately believe everything i said there hahahaha

do you have any you'd share? 👀🌀

i think argumental is probably the most underrated to me, because as much as...no one...talks about shows like duck quacks don't echo and rhod gilbert's growing pains, they've had enough high-profile or just popular-within-britcom guests that people have checked them out even for just one specific episode. but i feel like no one has watched argumental!!!!!!! which, i get it, it's a lot of straight white guys standing around doing fake mainsplaining lol (please remember that before, like, 5 years ago, that's about all panel shows were) but i think the premise of impromptu debate is really funny, some of the formats really bamboozle the debaters which leads to funny banter and improv, and it was so fun to see sean lock in menace mode as host 😋

i can't say it's the best ever made or anything — because, like series like there's something about movies (jennifer saunders i love you!!!!), rob beckett's smart tv, etc it's just two opposite panels answering kinda boring questions — but if you love david tennant and i know you do because everyone rightly does then you should try comedy world cup! he's such a wonderful host and there are a lot of panel show faves as guests

and on the topic of meh-to-decent formats with A+ hosts and big name panels, have you ever tried was it something i said or insert name here? they each have their moments for sure, i think a lot of people wanted to see wisis come back (maybe we're all just obsessed with david 🤷‍♀️)

you MUST listen to the unbelievable truth if you haven't, it's such a stellar radio show

another required panel experience is the recent series guy mont spelling bee and i'm holding a gun to your head when i say this watch it and watch it right now

as many of you know i'm not a fan of a league of their own but the road trip series are def some of the better episodes so if you like the panelists you can check that out for sure

does that help a little? tbh most of what i WANT to recommend isn't panel shows but scripted series or tangential reality shows (like travel man), but you asked about panel shows specifically so i stuck with them!

i haven't, and i surprise myself because lil savage was so iconic and i am sure i scrolled past her era a bunch of times back in the day. i'd give it a try if an episode had the right amalgamation of guests, so i'll check it out!!

omg there are so many moments from so many series — and i added quite a few to these random panel shows moments posts i did last year so i'll try not to repeat myself — but let me rack my brain real quick...

as i always say THIS is my favourite wilty clip ever and i stand by that

david the tortoise

yoshi the actual tortoise

"if this turns out to be a lie you are a shamless little light entertainer"

tell 'em david!! cuz she really does have horrible views lol

the elephant :/

for the last six months i've been secretly liasing with david's wife behind his bak

obviously the horse story

omg and the THERE'S NOOOOOO UNIVERSITY story

and on the topic of classics this was always my bob mortimer fave maybe because of the genuine awe of the panel in the end lol

and on the topic of genuine awe definitely this one

this miles jupp car crash

bermuda

i love rhod's potato tattoo and it's so funny that denise is like 'why have you got that??' so sincerely she was so astounded lmaooo

i was genuinely invited to harry and megan's wedding today but i said no because i had to come here and do this

i once shared a tent in kent with susie dent

another recent fave is this adorable one<3

oh man anon there are soooo many more maybe i can work on a masterpost of both funny moments funny whole lies/truths, or a youtube video or something (i said i'd get back into making videos). did i mention even one of your faves?? hehehe

omg anon you must watch this if you haven't the ben whishaw obsession is NOT a drill

he also talks about it in his book!

god he's so relatable

OMG I DID the nostalgia...

the way they didn't want to just talk about popworld but they didn't go one whole minute without saying popworld hahahaha they're soooooo cute

richard the popworld horse mentioned!!!!!!!

miquita being a whole child when she got cast for popworld, like it's so wild to think about

"has it been clear from what we've discussed that i'm a reclusive genius and master of cinema?" + "we pretended to be pretentious directors in berets...and i have become that guy now"

i know they were 98% kidding but the 2% of them that would go through with the popworld baby?? CAN YOU IMAGINE

you can't be surprised that a guy who wears false teeth in the name of absurd comedy for a living enjoyed a film about a man who wears false teeth in the name of absurd comedy!

a friend of mine gifted me a while of nordvpn, so that's what i've been using lately, but it depends what you need a vpn for. for example, if you're torrenting and need to seed content (for ratios or whatever), you'll need something with port forwarding like airvpn. if you're just trying to find something to switch between countries' netflixes or abuse streaming services, surfshark is very popular but i'd say expressvpn comes more highly recommended. once you pick the vpn you'd like to use, it's easy to find tutorials on youtube!

aww you're too kind 🥹🫂

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☆ FAQ ➜ PANEL SHOW WATCH LINKS • NON-PANEL SHOW WATCH LINKS ♥ https://ko-fi.com/panelshowsource

[triptychcryptid]

Dear god. Just watched Heretic with Hugh Grant in it as a psycho who traps two Mormon Missionaries in his house under the pretense of wanting to hear more about the religion, but proceeds to ask them questions and present them with evidence and choices that make them challenge their beliefs and try to prove a point about people only believing in things because they've been TOLD to believe these things. They BELIEVE they have choices or they BELIEVE in a higher power. Classic Free Will vs Influence stuff. This brought me back to my college philosophy classes that I absolutely LOVED, but also got me thinking:

That AU Idea where Ford believes in Bill as a god and he and Stanley both end up in the portal, and Ford betrays Stanley to get back to Bill: Given the chance, Ford could absolutely use a religious arguement to fuck someone up mentally. Challenging their beliefs but in the OPPOSITE direction.

Like what if you pitted Ford the Religious Zealot who continues to be influenced by a cult leader and Stan with a more atheist, philosophical mindset against each other?

And in Stan's case, philosophy wouldn't be used in the way that like I BELIEVE it was Henry David Thoreaux said "wealth consists not in having great possessions, but in having few wants" which is to say that man should live simply and with few possessions, because wanting many possessions is selfish. Not that kind of rhetoric, but more of "Are you actually thinking for yourself, or are you being influenced by this giant space dorito with a CLEAR ulterior motive?" And Stan may not even realize he's taking a philosophical stance, but would absolutely be the only other person quick-witted enough to match Ford's "I have been shown the way to salvation by my Muse. I know he has a plan for all of us and I am acting under that plan" arguments.

I don't know, this movie got the philosophical part of my brain going and made me realize Ford could be really dangerous on either side of that. But so could Stanley on the Philosophical side with his belief in moral gray areas and situational variables.

[creature-wizard]

Found some stories from people who realized their SRA/repressed memory therapists were a bunch of quacks. Lots of CWs for talk of severe abuse and some occasional disturbing activities. If you can stomach it, it's worth a read because it shows just how bad these therapists could get with malpractice and quackery. If you don't want to read the whole thing, here's some key takeaways:

Many therapists just decided their patients had repressed memories. The patients were not allowed to question or disagree with this. The therapists basically flexed their professional authority and told them they were just in denial. Former patient Deborah David described her own experience as being like constantly told that she had once seen a bear climbing a candy cane, told that other people had seen bears on candy canes, and constantly being asked leading questions about her experiences with bears on candy canes, and told that she was in denial if she said she'd never seen one.

Not all patients appear to have been put under hypnosis, but the therapists' insistence that terrible things must have happened to them and their insistence that the only way to heal was to "remember" all of it basically had a number of patients just imagining up all the horrible scenarios they could think of. Former patient Laura Pasley realized after getting out that a number of her "memories" actually came from the book Sybil, the movie Deranged, and from a story she'd written when she was seventeen.

(Worth noting here that a study showed that people who believe they have past lives are more likely to forget where they learned information. It would make a lot of sense if many people who "remembered" SRA under therapists like these have the same issue.)

Many patients were told that their bodies stored memory of this alleged repressed trauma, and any physical sensation they felt was a "body memory" surfacing. So for a hypothetical example, someone who experienced an aching ankle might be told that this is their body "remembering" parental abuse. A patient might imagine a scenario where a parent broke their ankle, and the therapist would treat this as a "recovered" memory.

A number of patients were diagnosed with MPD (as it was called at the time) regardless of whether they initially showed any symptoms. Patients were pushed into "uncovering" these alters that allegedly remembered all the abuse. One patient (Robert Wilson) actually began acting out the alters his therapist told him he had outside of the therapist's office, in some very harmful and destructive ways. (CW for prostitution and animal death if you want to read his story.)

Another patient (Nell Charette) said that while her therapy was ongoing, she had "eight different people telling [her] what to do."

Another patient (Susan) reports:

I mapped an elaborate system, virtually every emotional state or conflicting world view was an alter, plus the male protector and little girl and little boy that went with it. There were sets of 12 for every ego state, complete with names. In the end, I had about 200 "alters." ... Now along with all these alters is the question of how did they get here? Now, we've all heard the story that you can't be this way without severe, repeated, sexual or physical trauma from before you were 5. I'm really pissed about this part, because look how they did this: 1. Your symptoms mean you have MPD, the first step to getting better is to admit this. There is no other thing this could be; if it walks like a duck it's a duck. 2. Since you have MPD, you had to have been sexually/physically/ritually abused. There is no other way you could have this, so you need to admit it to get better. 3. You have to bring these "memories" forward to get better.

This confirms exactly what I've been saying for months: that the mythology of SRA and Project Monarch-type alter programming permits any uncomfortable feeling, any unwanted impulse, and any conflicting beliefs to be attributed to an alter, and therefore to trauma-based mind control, extreme abuse, or whatever you want to call it.

Robert's unfortunate case also confirms that if you go telling a sufficiently unstable person that they have certain alters that do certain things, they will effectively develop them. (This is why convincing a child that they might have a prostitute alter is not only unethical, but also incredibly dangerous!)

If you try and make yourself uncover certain alters, or if someone convinces you that you have them, you will almost certainly "find" them. The simple act of imagining an alter can be enough to make your brain start generating one, or at least something that resembles one close enough to convince people like these therapists.

Many of these former patients describe their mental health deteriorating as their "therapy" progressed. Many who came in without severe issues were completely dysfunctional by the time they left, and if they did have issues when they started, they were exacerbated. This was treated as a part of the healing process, with patients being told that "you have to get worse before you get better" and "the only way out is through."

As retractor Stephanie Krauss put it:

They get hold of this impressive-sounding theory and it goes through some metamorphosis in their minds and is transformed into fact. Then they go treat patients with this new information that only causes more havoc in the lives of persons with normal problems. They have this zeal to treat a disorder that doesn't even exist-at least, not until after treatment starts, and that's when the suffering really begins.

I know brainwashing techniques, and what these people experienced was 100% brainwashing. Each patient had their very sense of self torn apart and each was led to believe that they couldn't trust their own minds. They were led to believe that they had a serious problem that only the therapist - the one with all the power - could fix. They were only "healing" when they complied with the therapist's desires. They were told to cut off anyone who challenged the therapist's narrative.

In other words, the real programmers, the real practitioners of mind control, were the therapists.

[4urvalidation]

A CASE OF LIMERENCE | Chapter Ten

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

A/N: Listen - it's almost half past one am here, I can barely see, got work tomorrow and I tried to edit this as best as I could. That being said: I am obsessed with this chapter. Okay. Hope you enjoy ✨ I am going to bed!!!!!!!!!!!!!

TW: MDNI! graphic sexual content: characters being horny, oral (fem receiving), fingering, masturbation, dirty talk, praise kink, suggestive language, mentions of birth control (lmk if something's missing)

Sarah is singing Happy Birthday from the top of her lungs; the grin on her pretty face growing with each passing second. When she’s done, they laugh so hard, Leni’s got tears in her eyes. The memory of last night slowly fades away from her mind, especially the hours she spent in the shower rubbing JJ off her skin.

“What are you doing out so early?” Sarah asks once she notices Leni isn’t in her stuffy hotel room, but on her bike, speeding down the streets of the island.

“Buying myself a birthday present.” 

“Ooh. And what will you be treating yourself to?”

“Plan B.” Leni says casually. “And some Sour Patch Kids.”

Sarah suddenly grows very quiet. When their gazes meet, there’s a perplexed look on her face and headphones in her ears, “Explain? Please?” 

“I had sex with JJ.” Leni sighs, her mind already alight with memories from the previous night and she really doesn’t want to relive every single detail, but the words are already falling out of her mouth and before she knows it, Leni’s recounted the entire thing. 

“Maybe he was nervous?” 

“Well yeah - he came right inside me - of course he was nervous.” 

“I meant him being bad at… sex, but yeah that tracks too.” 

Another sigh tears straight out of Leni’s throat. Suddenly she feels very tired and the barely four hours of sleep she somehow managed to get aren’t doing her any favors. 

“You want me to cancel tonight? We can just stay in your room, order junk food and watch crappy movies.” Sarah smiles kindly, but it doesn’t reach her eyes like it usually does. This whole entire thing is worrying her and Leni absolutely hates putting her best friend in this state. Especially after how hard she tried to get her and JJ together. “Or! Or - and I think you’re gonna like this one - Rafe gave me back my keys to Tannyhill.” The mention of his name sends a spiral of shivers down Leni’s spine. “So, how about we throw a little pool party? Girls only. Just like old times.” 

The corners of Leni’s lips perk up a little - it’s a rather tempting idea and she knows it would be a lot more fun than having to spend the rest of her birthday making sure things between her and JJ are cool, but…

Rafe.  

He’s definitely going to be there; lurking from the windows of one of the many rooms in Tannyhill and even though the thought creates a warm feeling in the bottom of her belly, Leni is still not ready to face him again. At least not this soon. Not when the memory of her embarrassing mewl is still so fresh in her mind. 

“I dunno, Sar.” 

“Oh come on! You said you miss the place!”

“I do, but-” 

“I get it. You wanna see JJ.” 

Leni blinks. No, she doesn’t. As a matter of fact, she wants to unsee him; permanently erase the memory of him digging inside her vagina and replace it with -

Rafe. 

Breathless, she watches his name flash across her phone as if manifested. “There’s no shame in liking him.” Sarah’s voice echoes back inside her head and suddenly she remembers they’re still on a call. “Besides, you can teach him the things you like. I’m sure he’ll appreciate a lesson or two.”

Leni is playing it cool -  returns to her hotel room, takes the pill, opens the bag of Sour Patch Kids and just stares at Rafe’s Instagram profile until the screen goes black. Then, she changes out of her clothes; picks an outfit for the party; Facetimes her parents; avoids questions about Rose; watches an episode of her show and only when she’s completely out of things to pretend to occupy herself with, decides to hit accept on Rafe’s request.

And follow him back. 

She blinks. 

They’re mutuals now.

It’s strange - knowing him for such an incredibly long time; her entire life almost, but only now getting a glimpse of his social media. Sure, she’s gotten a few insights over the years: a screenshot or a silly video Sarah would send for the sole purpose of making fun of him or the stupid captions he’d make. 

He used to be so… cringey, so patronizing. With his stupid pastel polo shirts and ugly boat shoes; using every chance he’d get to call Sarah a bitch or humiliate her in one way or the other. Their arguments echo in Leni’s head as if they only happened yesterday. A mix of volatile screaming and bitter tears, always ending with Sarah threatening to tell their dad.

Rafe’s mouth would always fall slack when she’d say that. As if betrayed by her sudden decision to break one of their unspoken rules, he’d clench his jaw before stomping his feet on the way out of whatever room he had previously cornered them in. 

This is the person she likes. 

This is the asshole she can’t help lusting after.

And maybe that’s all that it is - crazy, stupid lust because it’s been a while since she’s had sex. Good sex. Brilliant sex. The kind that leaves her legs shaky for days and she can’t stop thinking about the things that are going to be done to her next. Or maybe her heart’s been broken to oblivion. Broken to the point where it’s affecting her mind and ability to think properly so now she’s got no other choice but to spiral after her best friend’s psychotic brother.

But he’s not psychotic. 

Rafe’s soft, toothy smile flashes before Leni’s eyes and her heart skips a beat. 

She wants to cry at the memory of the weight of his gaze. Those hauntingly blue eyes; dark and wild like the ocean on a stormy night and his hands - large and calloused - pulling at her waist, at her dress until he’s got her standing inches away from his face.

Leni wonders what his lips would’ve tasted like if he dared to kiss her. She imagines him tilting his head; thumb and forefinger angling her chin towards him - closer and closer- and he tastes clean. Like Coke or some fruity soft drink his friends would make fun of him for having. He’s soft, the kiss light and somewhat reluctant, but only for the first few seconds. 

The moment he feels her hands pressed against his chest is the moment Rafe deepens the kiss. He sticks his fingers between the loose, messy strands of Leni’s hair, while the others grip her waist so tightly, she thinks they might leave bruises. His tongue pushes her mouth open and he groans inside her throat - needy and desperate; hand suddenly bunching the corners of her dress; pulling the material over her hips and shoving his leg between thighs. 

She’s rubbing herself against him; each movement eliciting a round of deep, frantic moans that tear apart at her throat and leave the material of her thong in sopping ruins. His mouth is on her neck now - tracing her skin with wet, open mouthed kisses that fog her brain to the point she no longer has one. 

“Look at you. Look how desperate you are for me. How needy.” Rafe whispers in her ear; rough and patronizing as his thumb draws circles over her thong. The touch makes her hips buck forward and she mewls -  a loud, shameless one that makes him smirk darkly. “If I’d known you wanted my cock this badly I would’ve fucked you ages ago.” 

He removes his legs from between her thighs and for a brief terrorizing second, leaves Leni in complete and utter shambles. “Rafe,” She whimpers his name, practically on the verge of pleading. This isn’t fair; he promised her a present and now he’s making her beg and she’s going to; she’ll get on her knees and plead until her mouth is so full of him she can no longer think straight, but he’s got other plans. 

Pressing her against the window pane, Rafe pulls the dress over her head - leaving her in nothing but her thong and he’s kissing her again - except this time his lips inspect every needy inch of her body. Humming, he circles his tongue against her nipple; licking all the way down to the soft skin of her navel before burying his face between her legs. 

His blue eyes never leave her. They loom over her face as he eats her out like his life depends on it; like he hasn’t had a meal in days and she’s the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. Her nails scratch at his buzzed head, gently tucking him closer until he’s decided to insert one of his fingers. 

The pressure that his touch elicits, along with the roughness of his tongue against her folds have Leni throwing her head back; practically slamming it against the window and she can no longer keep it in. She screams; frantic loud moans echoing across the entire dark room and his hand flies forward: a single calloused palm tightly pressed against her mouth, quieting her. 

“Oh you liked that, didn’t you sweetheart?” He slides a second finger inside her, fastening his pace and forcing yet another earth shattering moan out of her throat. “Shh - look at you going crazy and I still haven’t even put it in yet.” Rafe smiles, satisfied at the way he’s making her act right now and fuck she wants him. His fingers aren’t enough; they will never be enough. 

She needs him: hard and thick and throbbing inside her. 

And like he can read her mind, he unzips his pants in one single movement - exposing the enviable length of his cock and the way it presses itself against his taut stomach. Practically salivating, she finds herself reaching over to him - eager to feel his hardness between his fingers, but he’s got other ideas. 

He slides himself between her folds over and over until she has no other choice but to shamelessly mewl for him to stick it in. “Please… Rafe… please…” She pleads in between breathless sighs and he’s grinning now. He likes this; enjoys the sight of her begging for him. “I want you.”

“You want me?” Leni nods frantically at this question, fingers gently wrapping around his length and guiding him towards her sopping entrance. “No, baby. You don’t want me. You need me. Can’t even get wet without thinking about me. Look at me-” His hand touches her neck, gripping at it just enough so she would do as he says, “I want you to look at me, when you say it! Say that you need me!”

“I need you.” She mewls. 

“Where?” He grunts, rubbing the tip of his cock against her entrance and teasing her to fucking oblivion, “Where do you need me, baby?” 

“I need you inside me. I need you so fucking bad. Please Rafe… please…” 

“Good girl. Say it again - say you need my cock.” She feels him push slowly inside her - thick and throbbing, ready to burst right then and there, but he won’t. He isn’t. 

But she is. 

Leni’s eyes fly open and she’s laying there - on her bed, breath heaving with her hand between her thighs. She feels like an earthquake has just pushed through her body, leaving her in a complete state of shock. 

It’s like her first orgasm all over again. 

Lazily, she pushes herself on her elbows; the TV is still playing an old Friends rerun that she put on mute the second the thought of Rafe filled her mind and fuck, fuck, fuck. 

She’s late. 

She is so fucking late. 

And then her phone lights up.

At the Chateau, Leni mixes cheap rose with fruit flavored sparkling water. Pope’s got the grill fired up and JJ and Kie were a whole hour late, but she really can’t be bothered with that when her mind; her gaze is focused elsewhere. 

The window. 

Specifically the one looking out the driveway.

“Hey Birthday Girl.” JJ snakes an arm around her waist, kissing her temple, but Leni’s eyes remain glued to the empty gravel road outside. She wonders what would happen; what everyone’s reactions would be like if suddenly a pair of bright headlights were to illuminate the darkly lit room they’re partying in. 

“Having fun?” JJ is now pulling her closer, eliciting unwanted memories of the night before and she really doesn’t want to be reminded of that; especially not with his semi-hardon pressing in the small of her back, but it’s not like she’s got a choice. 

“Of course.” Leni smiles - her mind still very present in the fantasy where the rumbling engine of Rafe’s truck quiets everyone and forces them to look outside. The commotion his unexpected appearance will cause is crystal clear in the back of her brain and she can already smell the random acts of machismo the boys will instantly put in play. 

“Sorry for being late.” As long as I’m not. “I was getting you this.” From the back pocket of his cargo shorts, JJ pulls out a book - its bright green cover capturing Leni’s attention almost immediately and making her heart drop.  

Normal People. 

He got her Normal People. 

“You got me a book.” 

“Uh, yeah. Do you like it? If you don’t - we can switch it for something else. We do have to take my boat though cause all the bookstores here only sell fishing manuals and-” Leni kisses him. 

“Thank you.” She’s smiling, “It’s my favorite.”

JJ grins, “Yeah I know.” 

Their eyes meet and - how can she not like him? How can she not like this sweet blubbering boy? Her fingers gently trace the crumpled bow that transforms the book into a present and no - JJ might not be able to give her an orgasm, but he can give her peace. Consideration. Stability. 

“I’m really sorry for last night.” He croaks suddenly, his voice barely a whisper and Leni shakes her head. 

“No! I’m sorry. I practically forced myself onto you.”

“Are you kidding me? That was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.” His hands find her waist. “I like it when a girl can take charge.” JJ’s lips lower onto hers and they’re kissing now - gently, with the patience of a thousand saints and maybe she doesn’t feel like ripping his clothes off, but she most definitely feels like this is the type of kiss she will remember forever.

“Are we looking for anything in particular?” Cleo’s voice startles her. 

Leni had been staring out the window again, but this time for a completely different reason. With prickling fingertips wrapped around a half empty glass, all she desperately hoped for was for Rafe to have not taken her seriously. To have read her message, rolled his eyes and continued doing whatever he did when he wasn’t wasting her time. 

And yet-

No.

No, no, no.

No more yets, no more chaos, no more Rafe. 

She turns to Cleo, her heart suddenly stuck in the middle of her throat. “If I tell you something, will you promise not to tell anybody?” Cleo’s brows furrow at the question, her eyes carefully inspecting every inch of Leni’s startled face before nodding. “Promise!”

“Okay, okay - I promise.” 

Leni sighs. 

Pulls out her phone.

Shows Cleo the messages. 

When their eyes meet again, her friend’s jaw has fallen slack. 

“You can’t tell Sarah. You can’t tell no one. (“Babe-”) I swear to god Cleo, if you tell anyone about this I will tell the world that you’re in love with Pope.”

“I see why Rafe likes you so much.” 

“No, Cle, I’m serious-”

“Leni! Relax. Your secret’s safe with me.” Cleo bumps her hip playfully. “And who on earth told you I’m in love with Pope?!”

Leni laughs, “No one has to tell me anything when I’ve got eyes!”

“Well, at this point I hope you’re the only one who's got them. Shit’s starting to get dire.” 

“How dire are we talking exactly?”

“I can’t stop listening to The Prophecy.”

“Been there.” They grow quiet for a moment. The lyrics of Taylor Swift’s song involuntarily playing in the back of Leni’s mind as she squeezes Cleo’s hand. “It’ll get better. You’ll see.” 

“And if not - I’ll just live vicariously through you!”

“Me?!”

“Yes, you!” Cleo grins, the sudden excitement on her face strangely intoxicating. “Be honest - why were you really late?” Leni rolls her eyes before showing her the dozen of mirror photos she took before finally deciding on the one to send Rafe. “Oh, you want him bad.”

“Remind me to tell you about the birthday present he promised me.”   

Cleo’s eyes widen. 

“What’s going on over here?” Sarah swoops in just then, her arms almost immediately wrapping themselves around Leni’s waist. “Cle, are you trying to steal my best friend?” 

“Trying?”

“I was just showing Cleo photos from when we were kids.” The lie glides down her tongue with enviable swiftness and Leni really doesn’t like just how natural she is at this brand new hobby of hers. 

“Yeah - did you know your best friend happens to be Little Miss Psychological Warfare?”

“Oh I’m aware.” Sarah nods, the corners of her lips perked into a smile. “You should’ve seen the shit she’d pull on Rafe when he’d bully me.” 

Cleo’s gaze meets Leni’s. “Oh, tell me more!”

“It’s stupid.” Leni rolls her eyes, eager for the topic to change, but Sarah is far too eager. 

“She used to go into his room and rearrange his things. Like - move his little collectables, (“Hide his charger”) Mismatch his socks, (“Put pennies in his shoes”) There was this one time when he took this really gross photo of me and put it on the internet and Leni was so mad (“He called you fugly!”) Thank you for reminding me - anyways- Leni was so mad, she somehow found out his password, broke into his cloud account and started deleting photos. But not like all at once. On Monday she’d delete two from March, on Wednesday she’d delete four from November and so on and so on, until Rafe was like - convinced he was losing his mind.” 

Cleo blinks. 

“Oh! And speaking of losing his mind - the summer after that, he randomly decided to pour ice water on Leni and me while we were sunbathing, so the following night Leni had the neighbor’s dog piss into a cup and she poured that piss in Rafe’s bed while he was sleeping so the next morning when he woke up he thought he’d peed himself.” 

“Yeah and then he found it was me and threatened to cut my hair in my sleep if I ever pulled that shit again.”  

Sarah laughs. 

“So, you’re an insane person.” Cleo says. 

“No. I just don’t like it when people fuck with my best friend.” 

“Oh that reminds me,” Sarah says suddenly, “Rafe’s seeing someone.”

Leni’s heart skips a beat. 

“What?” 

“Yeah, he just posted her on his story.”

She can’t believe her eyes. 

That asshole.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

[djarins-cyare]

I have so many questions about "Din needs an iphone charger to find out what Pedro Pascal looks like" 🤣 Is Din in a modern-day AU? Are we in a wormhole where the Mandalorian, iphones, and Pedro exist together? Is this code for an upgrade on his helmet tech?

Hey Cas! Thanks for asking about this one; it’s one of my favourites!

I love all your ideas, but this is your classic “Earthling in the SWU” story, except with a kind of… meta twist, I guess. I’ll do my best to explain.

Usually, when you get an Earthling in the SWU fic, it’s just assumed that Din would look like Pedro because that’s what he looks like on our screens. But what does that say about the universe our Earthling Reader has ended up in? Have they been sucked into the TV? Are they now in an entirely fictional universe? How can it exist? Or have they been transported into an AU?

To my mind, there are three possibilities:

Yeah, our Earthling Reader has been transported into the fictional realm created by George Lucas and specifically crafted by John Favreau and Dave Filoni, and Din does indeed look like Pedro. It’s like the movies Last Action Hero and Pleasantville – they’re literally sucked inside the movie or TV. This is uncomfortably deterministic since every event is crafted by writers, so essentially, it makes Favroni into gods. Everything that happens to our Earthling!Reader in that realm is predetermined since we know how Star Wars turns out. I don’t like this option much.

Although Star Wars began as fiction, our Earthling!Reader wanted to be part of it so badly that they somehow wished it into existence. So now, a new universe exists IRL, and they have been transported into it. Since it started as fiction, Din does indeed look like Pedro. This universe is a brand new offshoot and not subject to the fictional rules of Star Wars, so our Earthling!Reader can manipulate events to change the outcome of things. I like this option!

The Star Wars Universe exists as a real alternate universe somewhere alongside ours, and somehow (let’s say via the Force or some lowkey Earthly version of it), George Lucas and other prominent Star Wars writers have dreamed/sensed the events occurring over there and have woven them into stories. They think they have great imaginations, but they’re actually Force-sensitive or as close as you can get to it in this universe. Perhaps Favreau cast Pedro as Din specifically because, in his mind’s eye, that actor looked the most like the person he saw in his visions/imagination. In this scenario, the version of Din that our Earthling!Reader meets may not look precisely like Pedro at all. Similar, yes, all the features match up on paper, but somehow slightly different. This is an intriguing option.

In this fic (which I have now given the hasty title: Face Reality), Earthling!Reader has no idea which of the above options applies, although she has been very honest with Din about where she comes from. She explains that in her “universe” (for want of a better word since she doesn’t know if it’s an actual AU), his story and the stories of others he knows are told as fiction for entertainment. In an effort to spare him the existential crisis of “OMG, I’m just a character in someone’s narrative, I’m not a Real Boy”, she continues with the idea of this place being an already-existing universe that people in her world can sense (i.e. option number 3 above), but the question of whether he looks like Pedro or not comes up…

…particularly when Din discovers that some of the stories are visual. He freaks out. He worries an entire universe of people might have seen him without his helmet, and his creed is now in tatters. So, he becomes obsessed with finding out precisely what Pedro looks like and whether or not they’re identical. The trouble is, everything that Earthling!Reader tells him seems to fit him exactly.

So yeah. He’s having an existential crisis… she’s having an existential crisis… and, oh yeah, they both fancy the fuck out of each other.

Lots going on!

I actually have several scenes of this written already, but most are pretty piecemeal. I’ve got bits of the one where they meet, and everything I explained above comes out, but it’s very raw and unedited. Fortunately, the one where they talk about the iPhone charger was pretty solid already, so I’ve decided to give you the whole of that one, which is like 1k words (admittedly, I polished it up a little first and tweaked it to make it self-contained). Enjoy!

This WIP Folder game is really helping me get some of my WIPs in shape, I’m loving it!

Face Reality

“Tell me what he looks like,” Din asks. “Describe him.”

Not this again. He’s been relentlessly interrogating you about Pedro’s appearance for two days now.

“I already did. How many times do you need to hear it before you quit asking?”

He shakes his helmet. “However many it takes to figure this out. Your description could fit millions of humans across the galaxy – me included.”

You know he’s prevaricating. You’ve described the man’s teeth, for fuck’s sake – there are definitely not millions of humans with an extra tooth in front of their lower right lateral incisor. No, the problem is less about your descriptive skills and more about his increasing panic with every new detail you offer.

You’ve tried reassuring him. You’ve tried arguing with him. This time, you take a futile stab at redirecting him. “Well, at least we’ve established you don’t look like Brendan Wayne. That’s a win.”

The withering look Din sends your way comes through the barrier of his visor loud and clear.

“I need more,” he insists, desperation edging his tone. “If he looks like me, and you’ve seen my face….”

A strangled sound of irritation escapes you as you press your palms against your closed eyes. For a guy who’s recently learned his entire existence is considered a work of fiction in your reality, he’s freakishly hung up on his religious adherence. Or maybe it’s the fact that if he does look like Pedro, he’ll need to face the fact that he’s essentially a copy of someone else and not a Real Boy in his own right.

And you get it; you do. But it’s also fucking frustrating when you’ve got some pretty insurmountable problems of your own. After all, you still don’t know how you got here, nor where ‘here’ actually is. Were you sucked into your TV and all this is fiction, or are you in an independently existing alternate universe that George Lucas has dreams about that he makes into movies?

Your companion is not the only one having an existential crisis here.

“There must be more you can tell me. Be specific,” Din demands, and his unyielding insistence triggers your frayed nerves to finally unravel. You miss home, and being stuck in a possibly fictional universe is enough of a headfuck without this endless back-and-forth.

“I’ve been as specific as I can be!” you snap. “I’ve described everything about him in extreme detail, right down to the epic combination of sexy nose scar and cute little heart-shaped beard patches. I don’t know what more you want. It’s just Pedro being his usual gorgeous self, only extra sad and broody. I get that you’re scared about this, but can you please just give it a rest?”

It takes a couple of seconds for your brain to catch up with your mouth, but when it does…

Shit. You got a little carried away there. Please, God – or whatever deities rule over this galaxy far, far away – don’t let him notice how much you’re practically drooling over Pedro.

“You think he’s… gorgeous?” Din ventures hesitantly.

Fucksticks.

Backpedal! Reverse thrusters! Fall back to base camp!

“I mean….” You screw your eyes shut, searching for a way out of this latest living nightmare, but there’s no denying it now. “Yeah?”

A heavy silence descends. You can’t tell whether Din remains hung up on his potentially broken creed or if he’s moved on to wondering how your attraction to Pedro might translate to him if it turns out they do look alike. Become an apostate but gain an admirer… probably not a fair trade in his eyes.

Well, you wanted him to shut up. Mission accomplished. Except it looks like you now have the opposite problem.

If anything, you’ve made things worse.

Fuck, he still hasn’t said anything. Thor? Or is Odin the one in charge? Wait, wrong franchise. Maker? You’re pretty sure only droids pray to the Maker in Star Wars, but at this point, you’ll gladly supplicate a damn space toaster if it’ll end this awkward silence.

And then suddenly, an idea strikes. Whether it’s divine intervention or sheer desperation oiling your overtaxed, still-weirded-out brain into gear, you can’t be sure. What you do know is that you feel like a prize idiot for not thinking of it sooner.

“My phone!” you exclaim, rifling through your bag until you find your iPhone at the very bottom. You present it with a flourish. “The battery’s been dead for days, and it’s not like this galaxy has 5G, so I didn’t even think about it before.”

Din’s visor locks onto the black slab, and you self-consciously flick away some lint clinging to the curling edges of your screen protector. His helmet tilts inquisitively – still mute, still mysterious.

“It’s like a comlink, but it does a lot more, including capturing different types of images. There’s an image of Pedro as Din on here, but I have no charger with me. Not that there’s anywhere to plug in an iPhone charger in this universe. Y’all seriously need to install some USB-C ports.”

His visor tilts back down to the device, interest apparently piqued.

“If you can find a way to recharge the battery, I can show you what he looks like,” you explain, holding out the phone. “Then you’ll know if your creed is intact.”

He accepts the proffered device, turning it over in his gloved hands, and you point out the charger port at the base.

“Do whatever you need to – take it apart if you really have to – but just… don’t break it. I don’t have much left from home. There are photos of my friends and family on there too, so if you can get it powered up….”

Cradling the battered piece of your heart with a tenderness you know he typically reserves for Grogu, Din nods and rumbles, “Thank you. I’ll look after it.”

There we go. Tension diffused, problem solved. Or partially solved. Or… vaguely moving in the direction of being solved.

Whatever. At least now you can get back to fantasising about what’s under that helmet in peace.

[artificialchaoscola]

Hello! I am so inspired by your fanfiction, it is amazing, great! I’m curiuse, what do you think about movie Sonic 3 and about Sonic and Shadow relationship there?? Maybe will you wtite something anout sonadow from Sonic 3? And what do you think about differece between movie Sonic/Shadow and comics Sonic/Shadow??

Thank you, I appreciate that!

Hm... That's a good question. I have seen the Sonic movies, and I do have thoughts on how the third handled their dynamic.

I should start with this and be upfront: I dislike the movies. There are things that they do well, and overall they exist to just be fun, but they also make changes to characterization and events that I don't appreciate. If being negative about these movies upsets anyone, I wanted to put this warning first so they can scroll on! (Also I'm sure half of this makes no sense so tolerate me, I am sleep-deprived!)

So first off, the differences between comic/game and movie Sonic and Shadow are substantial.

Let's start with Sonic:

Sonic in the games is meant to be much simpler. He is an anomaly of nature with an origin unknown. His carefree spirit, his love of the wind and adventure, his desire to help others... It's all simply who he is. In the same way Eggman's desires are straightforward in their cruelty, Sonic's are straightforward in their compassion. He doesn't care if he's seen as the bad guy and he doesn't care about being "the Hero". He will do what is right because it is right. He enters conflict one way and will leave said conflict in the same exact way, instead influencing the characters around him to change for the better. In the games since Sonic Colors, he has been more... snarky (?) over the more whimsical and "I say weird poetic shit that makes people think deep teehee~" dialogue the older games had, but overall this stuff has remained fairly consistent. That's about as easy as I can put it.

Online, you will see plenty of discourse over who Sonic is as a character. Now, I'm not a stickler regarding this kind of thing. I don't mind spin-off material changing up aspects of Sonic to better suit the story, even if they're not my favorite thing. Sonic Boom making him more egotistical and dry made sense for the comedy. Older cartoons like SatAM and Underground being written to follow how American cartoons approached characterization and humor also made sense, and in turn, it made sense why Archie Sonic was written in the way he was. In general, I like that these things exist on paper, even if they're not my cup of tea.

That all being said, Movie Sonic makes a lot of changes I just don't really like. While his exact origins are unknown, they've shaped his morality and desires off of the influence of Longclaw, his deceased mother figure. He struggles with doing "the right thing" because he wants to be a hero, but he's just a kid learning responsibilities. He's learning about the world around him and being taught through his relationships with Tom and Maddie. I guess, in a way, he is "learning" to be like the Sonic in the games. I think he's written like this so younger audiences have a character they can project onto. This makes perfect sense, as a lot of the nuances of Sonic's character from the games might be lost when translated into a movie format. People didn't really understand a lot of the qualities of Sonic X's Sonic for a long time, and the movies are much shorter than a show, so it all makes sense...

I just find it really boring.

Sonic as a character is very unique and multifaceted. Mysterious in so many ways, yet gives you a sense of hope in the darkest of moments. His influence on others, his worldview, his dynamics... They all feel so fascinating in the games. He appears simple, but beneath the surface, there is much to understand. Movie Sonic is basically a completely different character at his core with surface-level attributes of Game Sonic -- fast, quippy, might have ADHD but we haven't had the talk, "good", will always do "the right thing" in the end. And again, that's fine. I don't want to yuck anyone's yum! It's just not for me.

Now for Shadow:

Movie Shadow did NOT have enough screen time, so this is susceptible to change in the future, but personality-wise he seemed fairly consistent with his SA2 appearance which I appreciate. He is quiet, mourning, a bit sassy when he needs to be, lost in his pursuit of vengeance. They kept the theme of Shadow's loss of autonomy due to Gerald's influence, they highlighted the impact Maria had on his life enough for viewers to understand why he cared so deeply (while also correlating it to Sonic's relationship with both Tails and Tom in subtle ways, which is neat), they weren't afraid of making him appear sad. They even nodded to his insecurities about his alien DNA, an understated aspect of Shadow's character overall. Not to mention the "revenge = suicide" theme they didn't shy away from, which was a pleasant surprise.

However... I've tweeted about this before, but Maria's depiction in this movie and how it in turn changes parts of Shadow's character REALLY... REAAALLLLLLY aggravates me.

Shadow's entire character surrounded itself with the idea of identity and choice for years. Was he a weapon? Was he a cure? His creation in a lab for the "betterment" of humanity, a weapon for G.U.N. + the Black Arms, and as a cure for Maria... The core aspect of his own game was his realizing he had the potential to be ALL of these things, but it was up to him to decide. Not only about choice, but the fact that he himself should be the one to make said choice. That he cannot let others influence him in his choices. This is a huge part of the tragedy of his "death" in SA2. Maria's wish for him and Gerald's meddling with his mind symbolically kill him. His game is about reclaiming the loss of his personhood and putting the past behind him.

Movie Shadow's origins make him a being from space. He is not made in a lab, so he has no insecurities about curing Maria despite being supposedly "perfect." He is not on the ARK, detached from the world and planet his sister loved dearly, unable to fundamentally understand even a fraction of the normal life that was robbed from her (and him too, subtly). He is not a weapon for G.U.N., so he has no reason to be confused over the dichotomy of humanity's love and cruelty. He is not ALL of him, they've only made a fraction of him. He is fundamentally a weaker character because of this change.

(Also, just... writing Maria as not sick is a huge blow. Shadow Generations gave us a huge insight into how her illness affects her, how it pains both Gerald and Shadow to witness... Such powerful representation, only to remove it entirely from the movie. And then you go online seeing people praising Movie Maria over Game one because she got to have a montage where she played with Shadow... like that's not the WHOLE POINT of her character... that she can't BE a "normal" kid... There are kids out there playing these games who felt seen by her depiction in the games... One day I might go REALLY into this because it just offends me personally, but yeah, don't like it!)

Oh also I hated Gerald this movie. Everything about that. It's not Shadow related and I'm not as passionately angry about it as I am with Maria but I just needed to get that out there lmfao

Now for both Sonic and Shadow together:

For the few moments they had, they were cute! Shadow was depicted as a similar age to Sonic, which is great! They had Sonic trying to reach out to him constantly because he could see he was hurting, also great! Sonic having a moment of rage and nearly killing Shadow is... interesting BUT for the plot they set up, it made sense. I think Sonic going on a quest for revenge at the expense of his friends is like... incredibly generic and possibly the most boring route to take for him. Like for so many other protagonists this wouldn't be an issue, but this is such a not-Sonic thing to do in this way I couldn't help but laugh a bit when he and Knuckles were beefing. I understand what they were doing. It's just... That's Sonic talking to Knuckles. For movieverse, it makes sense don't get me wrong... I just laughed a little.

The scene they had on the moon was my favorite. Not only because relating Shadow to stars propaganda was going strong in my head, but I like that Sonic was the one to make him see that revenge wasn't the answer. In the games it's Amy in a different way, and I would never change that about the games, but for the Movieverse I like this. Very cute. It worked well for the changes they made to each character. It was also a great message on grief, even if it isn't how Sonic would convey this message in the games. I do want to write about this scene one day and why I liked it for the movies, but I want to rewatch the movie before I do so.

But yeah overall... Sonic movies are meh to me.

To answer your second question: I will likely not write a fanfic within the movieverse since I don't find it compelling. If inspiration ever strikes though then I'd be open to it, I'm just not really a fan and don't have any plans to do so as of now. Hopefully that all made sense!

[deepsea-cowboy]

Count Orlok is not a person or representative of a person. He is a representation and physical manifestation of many different ideas. He is both an abuser and Ellen’s manifestations of her guilt and sin (her queerness with Anna[When O is biting Anna], her desire to dominate her husband[when O is biting Thomas], her hitting puberty) and a validation for everything people think she’s crazy for (her nightmares instead being a real threat instead of just nightmares[there’s other examples I just can’t think of at the time of writing]) and the consequences of her hiding her desires for so long AND a sexy vampire. Like, he can be both the abuser/groomer/whatever and her sexual liberation. He’s both real and not and that’s the point. Human emotion and memory and experience is so complicated and strange where you don’t know what is what and if you really love the people who hurt you or if the people you love hate you or literally Anything else. This isn’t something that’s just one metaphor for one thing.

Also, this is gothic horror/romance. It’s going to be morally questionable and strange and erotic. Like you can’t have a holier than thou mindset with this because the point is to explore deplorableness. Yea you can draw the line wherever you want and it’s fine if this is to much for you but you can’t just say everyone who finds this erotic is just some crazy yandre whatever. Like I don’t understand how you are coming into the den of weird freaks and then complaining about how people are being freaky.

If gothic horror/romance isn’t for you that’s not a bad thing but don’t try to tell anyone that they are stupid or blind for enjoying it.

Edit: also the actions and morals of the characters aren’t flaws and just because they do bad shit doesn’t mean they’re horrible. These people live in the 1830s, of course they are going to be awful to Romani people. Thats not excuse but it’s an explanation and reasonable to believe they would do because they aren’t perfect characters. Ellen isn’t a strong independent woman who is witty and helps take down Orlok because she’s a mentally unstable woman dealing with a lot and the whole movie is an exploration on her feelings specifically. She’s not going to get her happy ending where she lives and that’s okay. Von Franz does tell a suicidal woman to kill herself for the greater good and that’s awful but also what Ellen wants because like with Orlok, he truly understands her and also almost worships her. She’s a maiden sacrifice stereotype because and Von Franz encourages it 1.) cause he’s an occult, insane man who follows ancient rituals and texts and moral or not people used to sacrifice people (especially woman) and damnit that’s what he’ll do, and 2.) because it lets the plot keep moving in the way to where Ellen will be her perverted and raw self, which also bows to no morals or intelligence because emotions aren’t intelligent by nature.

( im very sorry for unloading this onto you. By the end I realize I’ve strayed away from your original post and am mainly just venting my frustrations about all the takes I’ve seen on this app. But I’m not sorry enough to not make this post :3)

guys

I know this is the monsterfucker website

but please

I need you to look me in the eyes and tell me that Nosferatu wasn't a tale of sexual liberation

I need you to tell me that we watched the same movie about sexual abuse, victim blaming, grooming and self-blame

please

[genericpuff]

Dyou ever feel disappointed (?) that there aren't more eyes on LR? I know you keep it on the DL to avoid Rachel's wrath but I 100% know the only reason it's not more popular is that not enough people know about it. You put in a lot of work that we all really love but I know the notes count could be higher. Is this something you care about? We can try to spread it more if so, but going back to the Rachel/not intruding on LO spaces point...

Ouu so that's a good question, but honestly... nah, not really. And I'm not even saying that to be "humble" or whatever, it's literally just... what y'all are seeing in Rekindled is, to me, a step away from my usual patterns and habits that I've been dealing with for years now. It's forced me out of my comfort zones, but most importantly, it's got me creating purely for the fun of it, for the self-indulgence, without any of the usual pressures I've forced upon myself in the past for the work I do to "mean something" or for it to "be successful". It's not just the tip of a massive iceberg, it's practically a whole ass detour. Rekindled is like one of those road trip movies where the reluctant stickler gets strung along by the aloof weirdos, driven off the beaten path, and winds up realizing by the end of the crazy journey that it was worth taking the long way home.

That's not to say making Rekindled doesn't come with its own unique pressures or that I don't take it seriously, but they're different from the pressures I've dealt with in the past and the nature of Rekindled being what it is means... I don't have to take it as seriously as the car crash that was my original work prior to it? 💀😆 (which I already took way more seriously than what was healthy for me, in hindsight). Like I can take it seriously as a creative project that I wanna see through, especially where it's meant to "fix" stuff that felt misguided / done poorly in LO, but because it's effectively fanfiction, I can separate it from the expectations that came from my original work. It can never pay my bills, so I don't have to worry about it doing so. It shouldn't be the only thing I'm ever known for, so I don't need it to amount to my legacy.

A good example of what I mean are what you brought up - the notes count. Thing is, compared to social media platforms like Instagram and Facebook and even Youtube, posting exclusively to Tumblr over the past couple years has been great for my mental health. Unlike those other platforms, my follower count isn't on full display to both myself and others. There's no real bearing on notes beyond clout, and that clout only exists within Tumblr - going "viral" on this hellsite doesn't amount to the same things as going viral on a platform like Twitter, for the most part my work still stays within its respective audience where it's meant to be and even if I do have an episode "take off" in notes... it doesn't really matter? Like to me there's virtually no difference between a post that has 300 notes and a post that has 30,000 notes. And I actually do have a couple posts that have "taken off" like that. It's neat but it's also like... okay, life goes on. Except now I'm gonna keep getting notifications about that one post forever LMAO

Granted, it would be different if the posts were actually intended to get as many eyes on it as possible - like if they were posts meant to generate income in some way through advertising Patreon, Ko-Fi, merch shops, etc. - but it's rare that I ever do that because obviously with Rekindled being what it is, I can't really profit off it anyways.

And that's okay! I've spent enough years worrying over the online "gains" and bearing the weight of my work's responsibility to my livelihood on my shoulders.

Rekindled is fun. Even when it's stressful, when an episode goes up late or when I'm still finding myself procrastinating, it's fun. It's neat that it now has a TV Tropes page and that there are some Youtubers who talk about it every now and then, but... the novelty of those things comes paired with the pressure and fear of knowing my work is being perceived outside of my own scope. Sure, that's just what happens when you share your work online, but even I , in all of the hubris I had to have to create Rekindled in the first place, can't pretend like I'm infallible to that sort of thing. Every time a Youtuber talks about it, every time there's a thread in /r/webtoons about it, every time someone besides myself uses the #lore rekindled tags, I have to live with the small but real consequences of doing what I do - the anons taking it upon themselves to judge me in my own inbox, the Youtube commenters forming their own opinions based on what they assume are my intentions (even when those assumptions are often false), the redditors arguing back and forth over the virtue of transformative rewrites.

It's a small price to pay, for everything that I do here. I can't very well sit here on my pedestal talking shit about something like LO without taking some of that shit in return regarding my own work. It's only natural people will have misinformed opinions about what I do, or will take it upon themselves to dissect and debate and discuss my work regardless of whether they even like the work or not. I try to take it as proactively as I can, that it's a metric of success in and of itself - what I'm making has made people feel something, for some joy, and for others, frustration. The art has done everything it could ever do, for better and for worse - it's made people feel and think and talk. Most of all, it's made me feel and think and talk, and create, and experiment, and fail, and succeed in ways I never thought myself capable before. It's more than I ever expected - and all I really needed to come out of all this.

----------

All that aside, it's not like Rekindled isn't already doing a lot in the way of "expanding my reach", so to speak. Though it is just Tumblr, I've gotten to meet so many amazing readers and writers and artists through this project, and that's at the heart of why I make comics at all. I'm not joking or exaggerating when I say that Rekindled literally couldn't be what it is without the community that surrounds it. And that's a community that I'm hoping will still be interested in hanging with lil' old me even after Rekindled is over.

Rekindled isn't my first rodeo and it certainly won't be my last. In fact, I'm currently (finally) overcoming some of the burnout that's been persisting over the past couple years with my original project, and I'm breaking down walls I literally couldn't have broken down before. I hadn't realized I had been suffocating, and Rekindled wound up being that breath of fresh air that I needed to live again.

It's gonna take time, and there's still a lot of healing happening on my end, but I'm making plans again for what I really wanna do esp for when Rekindled is over, and it's exciting, and scary, and most of all, hopeful.

So all that's to say, if you (anon) or you (everyone else) are really interested in "boosting" my work and getting more eyes on it... well, I suppose I better start sharing more of it outside of just Rekindled, shouldn't I? I hope that when I do, it's welcomed as eagerly as you all welcomed Rekindled. It'll be quite different, and likely won't be everyone's cup of tea, but I hope all the work I've done on Rekindled so far - and what we still have left to accomplish in the future - proves what I'm capable of and allows for the opportunity to really connect with my work, wholly me. Y'all took a chance on me when I first started posting those lil' glow edits and the first scrappy sketches of Rekindled back in the day, so I hope when the time comes, y'all can take that chance on me again <3

And hey, here's a fun fact for you to close out this long response - though it might not be a major platform, judging by the metrics I can see on the surface from other comics alongside it, I'm pretty sure Rekindled is carrying like 90% of the current traffic numbers on Dillyhub LMAO Like seriously, the next highest liked / subbed comic I could find on there didn't even amount to a third of the amount of likes and subs I have on there just through Rekindled. It's actually hilarious, but also kinda sad, because damn... the devs really have abandoned that place. So it's not exactly all that impressive. But that's pretty much exactly why I chose it as a mirror in the first place - I sure as shit wasn't gonna test my luck posting it to Webtoons or Tapas, and the only reason I even wanted a mirror site in the first place was to give non-Tumblr users a place to read it (without being badgered to make an account and without having to sift through all my rants and essays LMAO) so Dillyhub just kinda made sense as a place that was functional enough to host it but not big enough to draw any unwanted attention. Sooo I guess what I'm saying is, you're welcome Dillyhub?? 😆

[ddejavvu]

guys this really shouldn’t have to be stated explicitly but your happiness is your responsibility and not the responsibility of unpaid thankless fanfic writers :) just fyi. i know that anon didn’t mean to make it sound like you’re the only thing getting them out of bed in the morning mei but like. wow.

pressuring writers to work faster also does nothing to improve the story outcome if they *do* force themselves to write it. forced writing does not have the same mojo as self motivated writing, mei has said that time and time again. pushing her to finish it will only harm the quality of the story 😩

i do really dislike it when people are demanding about it, like they've paid for it or like i'm contractually obligated to set aside my personal life for their enjoyment. however, yesterday's anon was kind enough and waited long enough since the last question I got asked about it that i wasn't bothered much. but please, remember that me and a million other authors like me have so many things to do other than writing.

you may only know us from our writing but that doesn't mean that's all we do. i work 40 hours a week and i go to school full time. i have a boyfriend and several close friends that i see at least once if not twice or more a week. i have other hobbies, i watch tv and movies, i crochet, i knit, i build legos, i scroll on my phone, i do puzzles, i read, i do a million other things than writing. i love writing, and i do it when i can, i just don't always have time to tackle a big project like spring fling. that's not saying that i never write it, or that i'm abandoning it, i just need everyone to understand that i'm not a full-time author, i write whenever i get a spare moment, which isn't often.

if you want more of my writing you may just have to be a little bit patient, which is something that i know has gotten harder for many people with the rise of short-form content and the shortening of attention spans, but there's no way around it: i can't pump out writing on demand. writing is my art form and art takes time, especially something like spring fling that i've poured years of thought into. the best way that you can appreciate the art i'm sharing with you is to wait for me to share it with you.

messaging me impatient, mean-spirited demands for the next chapter will get you nothing more than a block. it's gotten several people that already. i really, truly don't mind sweet messages about it, but begging for it does nothing when i'm already doing it as fast as i can

[demonslayedher]

What even is Kimetsu no Yaiba canon???

Good question, that's why I've done all this digging. But I've also been asked a lot about what officially released material is and is not considered canon. I am but one nerd on the internet and no authority on that and my attitude is that you should take and pick what you want to use in fan work, because it's yours. However, in a lot of my fics I love trying to stick to canon, and that also means trying to incorporate a lot of official material that Gotouge did not personally provide.

So instead of saying "this is canon, that is not canon," here is my tier list. This is especially relevant when you have two officially released materials that contradict each other. The manga has been self-contradictory too, so if you sweat too many small details, your fan work will never get done.

God-touge Tier: Content Penned by the Gator 1. The actual manga chapters, for this may be all someone has ever followed in the Shonen Jump magazines, and therefore they have no other context 2. All other material published in the 23 volumes, including Taisho Secrets, 4-panel comics, and expanded epilogue chapters 3. The two official fanbooks (also referred to by the fandom as under names like the databooks or encyclopedias), which are widely available in Japan, and (as I understand) have been at least partially translated into an official English version 4. Additional material provided for special events, like the Gotouge gallery and Mugen Ressha movie booklet for early showings (these have included Taisho Secrets not printed elsewhere)

Extremely Influential Tier: The Ufotable Anime Content 1. Ufotable's interpretation of the manga (except in cases when it contradicts Gotouge material, though these are slight, like animating a scene in the wrong season) in the TV episodes and movies as they first aired, including filler scenes based on but not found in Gotouge material (like the paper airplane contest) 2. Additional content Ufotable added later (like extra scenes for when the first arc was re-aired on Fuji TV) 3. Filler content only loosely based on the manga (like the Rengoku special)

Also Very Highly Regarded Tier: Official In-Universe Spin-Offs On the Same Shelves at Japanese Bookstores (none written by Gotouge) 1. The Tomioka and Rengoku Gaidens (except in cases when it contradicts Gotouge material, like how Rengoku got that hair color) 2. The light novels 3. Novelizations of the manga Like High-Quality Fanfiction: More Ufotable and Shueisha Content 1. Drama CDs produced by Ufotable (often just little side stories and character exploration, not major stories) 2. Kimetsu Academy, a.k.a. the official AU Spin-Off, and by extension, the "Total Concentration Drill" books that are a spin-off of the Kimetsu Academy spin-off 3. Additional art books and design books (though these are usually very careful to not introduce anything new, and merely reflect content already shown elsewhere) 4. Sometimes I am really tempted to put the Rengoku special all the way down here

Official material which I do not consider to have any baring on canon whatsoever, but which are simply fun and nice: 1. Any form of live stage performance (the musicals, the voice actors reading from scripts, concerts, the Noh adaptations, etc.) 2. Officially sanctioned games, especially the plot elements in a video game like the Hinokami Chronicles 3. Galleries like Zenshuuchuu-ten (though these usually stay entirely based on material already introduced in anime canon) 4. Tie-in collaborations 5. Any form of official sanctioned parody created by someone other than Gotouge (like the 4-panel comics compiled into a volume with the Gaidens) 6. Commentary from the directors, voice actors, etc.

Unofficial material which is fun for expanding on things but has zero baring on canon, nor should it have any influence on what the aforementioned officially sanctioned creators do with it: 1. Books that nerds have published with Kimetsu no Yaiba analysis while teaching fun facts about the Taisho period and demons and such (this is a bit of a trend in Japan, and maybe other countries have publications unabashedly capitalizing on the KnY trend) 2. Fans who create meta and headcanons 3. Fans who create fanwork out of love for the series, regardless of whether or not they stick to canon Things that make me say "nope" 1. Low-effort articles and videos that get the facts wrong 2. Fans who spread rumors by claiming something is canon, but that something is reflected nowhere in the aforementioned top four tiers 3. Anything AI-generated