#i think my favorites are the love-tallies?

[rottenfyre]

⸻ ʙ ʟ ᴏ ᴏ ᴅ ʏ ʜ ᴇ ᴀ ʀ ᴛ ⸻

Pairing: Wade Wilson x Fem Reader

Headcanon: how would he be when he's obsessed?

Note: English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

Wade notices you during a routine grocery run, of all places. You’re just minding your own business, deciding between two brands of pasta, when you laugh softly at a joke the store clerk makes. That laugh? It’s like Cupid’s arrow. Except Cupid’s been replaced by Deadpool, and instead of an arrow, he’s throwing knives.

At first, Wade convinces himself it’s just a harmless crush. "She’s just a cute, innocent civilian! Nothing to see here, folks!" But then you smile at him one day when he’s pretending to be lost in the store (he’s not lost, he’s following you), and that smile? Yeah, it’s burned into his brain like a bad tattoo. It’s over for him.

Obsession kicks in faster than a chimichanga order at his favorite food truck. Wade starts shadowing you. He calls it "protective surveillance." Others might call it stalking. To him, it’s romantic. He knows where you work, your favorite coffee order, your pet’s name, and, oh yeah, your emergency contact info because he’s totally hacked into your phone. "It’s not creepy if it’s for love, right?"

Wade leaves little “gifts” for you. At first, it’s innocent: a bouquet of flowers mysteriously delivered to your desk at work, with a card signed “Your Secret Admirer xoxo.” Then it escalates: tickets to your favorite band (how does he know??), a sweater in your exact size, and, uh…a suspiciously clean skull with a note: "He was thinking bad things about you. You’re welcome. Love, Wade. P.S. Hope you like bone décor!"

When you finally meet him in full Deadpool gear (because of course he crashes your evening walk to "rescue" you from a totally harmless raccoon), Wade is… well, Wade. He’s charming in that over-the-top, inappropriate way. He cracks jokes faster than you can process them, and you can’t decide if he’s insane, hilarious, or terrifying. (Spoiler: He’s all three.)

Wade doesn’t see himself as a villain in your story. He sees himself as your knight in bloody armor. He’s convinced the world is full of people who don’t appreciate you the way he does. He’s not above breaking into your apartment to leave notes of affirmation or making you dinner (which you find out about when you come home to a table set with candles and a smug Deadpool sitting in your chair). "I’m like Martha Stewart, but hotter, funnier, and with a body count!"

He adores you. Like, worships the ground you walk on. You are, in Wade’s mind, the single greatest thing that’s ever happened in his miserable life. He talks to himself (breaking fourth wall) about you constantly—sometimes out loud, even in public. "Did you see her today? She wore that cute little sweater I like. God, I’d kill for her. Wait, I already did! Add another tally to the scoreboard, baby!"

Wade is insanely jealous. He doesn’t see you as property, exactly—more like a priceless artifact that no one else should touch. If anyone flirts with you, they’re immediately labeled as “a problem.” And Wade? Wade solves problems. Permanently. Sometimes with a grenade.

Despite his insanity, Wade genuinely tries to make you happy. He tones down the murder (a little) when you make it clear you’re not into the whole “blood and guts” thing. He’ll still threaten anyone who looks at you wrong, but hey, progress, right?

Wade's softer side shines through in quiet moments. He’ll hold you close when you’re upset, whispering (weirdly comforting) jokes in your ear. He’ll memorize all your favorite things, so he can surprise you with them when you’ve had a bad day. He may be psychotic, but his love is as real as it gets.

But make no mistake: Wade will do anything to keep you by his side. He’ll manipulate, scheme, and murder his way through any obstacle standing between you and "happily ever after." And if you ever tried to leave him? Oh, honey. Don’t even think about it. "We’re meant to be together, Y/N. Like peanut butter and jelly. Like chimichangas and guac. Like…me and you. Forever. Whether you like it or not."

Obsessed Wade is intense. He’s equal parts terrifying and oddly endearing, which makes him a constant rollercoaster of chaos. At the end of the day, his love is as messy and unpredictable as he is—but hey, at least he’ll make sure you’re never bored.

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.

[beetlethebug]

hello today my thoughts are consumed by Spite flirting with Emmrich and Lucanis to rile up Rook. Even better with a Rook without Spirit Sense, so they can only gauge what's going from the occasional lapse of Lucanis' control over Spite and the blushing, near-stuttering messes they become. Especially during meals with the whole Veil Guard. Spite learning some sense of subtlety through osmosis, so he starts with compliments. Granted, Spite's "subtle" compliments are typically ones without expletives, so they are still intense and heated and, if they catch Emmrich at the right time, enough to make his voice stutter.

He starts by stating the things Lucanis already likes about Emmrich. Things that they both hold in high on the list of things they appreciate about Emmrich. Flirting on Lucanis' behalf, if you would. "Lucanis loves your hands, professor," paired with just enough power exerted to force Lucanis' head to tilt in the direction of Emmrich's hands, baring his throat just enough that Emmrich can see it bob in a swallow as Emmrich finishes cutting himself a bite. "He would very much like to see those hands wrapped around something else. He made a new set of choking cords just for you. Did you know that? He made them in Mourn Watch colors."

Spite letting Lucanis retreat into his coffee, purring lowly as Emmrich's face starts to flush. Waiting until Lucanis is almost done with his drink to say, "He likes your boots better, though. He would very much like to be under them." Emmrich and Lucanis having to wave off concerns of the other Veil Guard members as they both choke, Rook glancing between the two curiously. They might not be able to hear what's going on, but they've seen the signs before. They settle more comfortably to watch the display like a sporting match.

And when Spite starts complimenting Lucanis, oh, the man nearly has to excuse himself to run his head under water, he's burning up so badly. "I like how I can feel every muscle working when we're in combat together. I like seeing your blood bead on the little cuts I make for you. I love the thudding of your heart, the feeling of your adrenaline. I like the way your brows scrunch and then get soft whenever you smell coffee for the first time. I like when you eat sweet things for me."

Spite having a little tally going, one on each thigh, for every time that he makes Lucanis and Emmrich stutter or pause during the initial flirting phase. Low little murmurs of, "That's another one," and "Oh, that one got Emmrich good." Emmrich realizes what the count is for soon enough and tries to focus more on paying attention to conversation at the dinner table, but if Spite hates anything, it's to be ignored (though he does appreciate the set of the professor's jaw, and the thudding pulse of Lucanis' heart, the heat in his blood).

If Emmrich is going to ignore him, then he'll simply up the ante. If Emmrich doesn't want to listen to all the things that he and Lucanis want him to do to them, then they'll talk about their collective favorite subject: Rook. "Look at their mouth--isn't it pretty? It'd look better full of our fingers. You should let me take over, Lucanis--I'd have them begging for it faster than you could blink. Do you think they'd lay in our lap again? I liked when we did that. Oh, maybe they'll sit in it. You liked that idea, I felt it. Emmrich, what do you think? What position do you like Rook best in? We like the sight of them on top of you. We want to see it again. Don't you want to see it again?"

Lucanis and Emmrich slamming their hands on the table, the same conclusion reached in equally frantic manners. Neve asking with a teasing smile if something is the matter, or did their conversation about Dalish alchemy really bore them to tears? Emmrich and Lucanis gritting out in the same breath, "It's Spite."

"Just tell him it's not his turn. Works for us." Taash comments, though they're grinning. They can smell how worked up these two are, and was placing bets with Davrin and Harding about which one would crack first.

"Spite," Rook scolds, but it's all grins. Their eyes are shinning, leg bouncing underneath the table. "You know you can always talk to me if you want something. No need to bully poor Emmrich and Lucanis."

"Do not encourage him," Lucanis begs, knuckles going pale from where they grip the table. Emmrich is truly struggling to regain his composure, trying to assemble anything resembling a calm front. But Spite takes the opportunity to take over, forcing Lucanis' body to relax. Digging his hands into his thighs instead, feeling Lucanis' body shudder with the ache. "I was simply telling Lucanis and Emmrich how much I appreciated them." Deceptively coy, but the sharpness in his grin gives it all away. "How much we appreciate you."

"Get a room already," Taash yells, sweeping the pile of coin she earned towards her plate.

"Well, Rook? Shall we get a room?"

[lala-blahblah]

i finished watching the uglies adaptation and it was mid...... except casting for shay was so good and i appreciate the racial diversity in casting. Idk I feel like adaptations should only exist if they have a vision for interpreting the source material but i am so so biased bc i wanted a sapphic interpretation of tally and shay

[enteragoodnamehere]

girls when storm and a spring by chonny jash

[sweetkpopmusings]

cuddly jisung <3

a/n: ahh !!!! jisung is just a sweet babygirl and i love him DEARLY ! i’ve been in my jisung feels all day, so i needed to write this request <333 i also may be definitely am tipsy, so i’m sitting in front of my computer like 🥺💗thinking of cuddly jisung <3333 i wanted to try a different format for this one, so let me know your thoughts ! :-) pics not mine~~

a/n p.s.: i accidentally deleted the original ask where this request was sent (i'm so sorry!!!), so i hope it finds the original requester, wherever you are now :-(((( </3

content: fluff, established relationship | wc: 0.5k | warnings: none really! | pairing: bf!jisung x gn!reader | requests: open

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sleepy jisung♡‧₊˚

jisung gets so so so clingy the moment his eyelids droop from sleepiness. if he so much as yawns when you’re nearby, he’ll be glued to your side within seconds. he’s such a whiny baby too. if you push him away, he’ll threaten to cry, his big brown eyes glistening, murmuring why won’t you cuddle me? it does not matter if you are in the middle of folding clothes or working. to jisung, the only cure for his restless state is to be in your arms, and he’ll do whatever he can to snuggle into your embrace.  

excited jisung♡‧₊˚ 

when jisung gets a burst of energy, he is bouncing right at your side. did you get good news? his hands are on your shoulders while he’s jumping up and down, screaming with joy. did they have your favorite snacks at the store? he’s wrapping his arms around you saying i can’t believe it! we’re so lucky! did you smile at him cutely? he’s holding your face in both of his hands, cooing praises of how adorable you are. please return the favor and hold his face in your hands, for that will send jisung to an entirely different dimension of happiness. in the end, any time jisung’s eyes are sparkling, his hand is searching for yours, ready to give an enthusiastic squeeze or pull you into a hug to remind you how lucky he feels to have you around.

stressed jisung♡‧₊˚ 

it doesn’t take long into the relationship for you to know signals of jisung’s stress. if his shoulders are slumped or his walk is slow, you call his name and outstretch your arms. every time, he melts into you, sighing in relief for the first time in forever. with your fingers twirling his hair and massaging his scalp, he’ll spill all his worries and thank you endlessly. up close and able to hear your heartbeat, he remembers that, with you by his side, he can endure anything. you are his safe space, his cure, and he reminds you every day that he’ll always open his arms to hold you and protect you from harm.

sad jisung♡‧₊˚ 

jisung gets especially cuddly when he’s feeling down. he appreciates anything you do to lift his mood, but the number one cure is to bury his head into your hair or shoulder or neck or chest, safe from whatever is hurting him. this urge to lose himself in you heightens whenever he misses you. he’ll message you daily, telling you how much he loves you and keeping a tally of how many hugs he owes you. once you’re within arms reach, he’s wrapping his body around you and never letting go. even if there are tears in his eyes, he’s whispering i love you, y/n.

lovestruck jisung♡‧₊˚

jisung is in awe of you from the moment you meet, and that grows stronger the more he gets to know you. when you two have time alone together, he gravitates toward you, settling into your warmth. frequently, you’ll catch him staring at you while you’re watching something together because he cannot believe how real and beautiful you are. he’s a big fan of playing with your hands and hair too. it’s a simple gesture, but it’s his way of appreciating even the smallest details of you. truly, when he is overwhelmed by how much he loves you, he’ll hold you however possible and have the biggest, sweetest, most heartwarming grin on his face because you are his favorite person in the world.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[see-arcane]

With a total of 1,176 votes tallied, the preferred plushie poll winner with 28.8% of votes is…

What a close one! Jonathan came in with 27.7%, the mysterious Mr. Morse with 24.9% and, delicious irony of ironies, London Dracula with 18.9%. Rest in pieces. Now, what does all this mean going forward?

First, just to reconfirm: I will absolutely be looking into the costs for having more than one plushie character produced at a time. For all that Mina has the top spot if it comes down to a solo run, Nobody Wants to Separate the Gothic Horror Soulmates, even as wee little plushies. It hurts my heart to think of. Mina and Jonathan deserve to sit side by side on everyone’s pillow. Just as Quinn Morse deserves to haunt the pillow next to theirs while casually throttling and carving London Dracula into pieces. For enrichment.

But beyond that, some other key things:

How is this getting done?

Sadly, I was not a cool enough kid for Makeship to greenlight a collaboration with me. Tragique. But while I was sitting around waiting for them to get back to me, I had time to browse around for other options. During that sniffing around I dug up a couple of promising manufacturers—one of which has some really neat options for not only plush toys, but all sorts of bric-a-brac like stationery, shirts, bags, cups, et cetera—and I plan to reach out to them for quotes to start with. Nothing really gets to move forward until I can nail down prices and the amount of X plushies to be made.

I am more than a little hesitant to tell anyone MAKE ME 1000+ PLUSHIES, PLEASE, THE TUMBLR POLL SAID THEY’RE GOOD FOR IT. These aren’t as simple as print/make-on-demand products, so I need to be careful estimating the amount of folks ready and willing to drop money on the little guys. But I will keep everyone updated on the numbers regardless!

Sooo is this a crowdfunding thing or an investment or what?

Don’t know yet. I am still between jobs at the moment—reminder to check out my Ko-Fi if you want to drop me a buck or commission some art!—but if this is something I can safely drop some of my own money in with the guarantee that it will let me do better than break even, I’ll do what I can out of pocket. However, if the cost of making something of good quality turns out too steep, I’ll start looking into stuff like Kickstarter and Backerkit and so on. I want to be sure I’m not gutting anybody’s wallet to pull this off and I want to be double-sure that what we’re paying for isn’t some flimsy throwaway junk. We are all here on the same Dracula book club starving artist site, so It Has to Be Worth It and not a money-sink for anyone.

Got it. Any other info to spare?

For the plushies specifically, this is when I’ll start:

Polishing up the current four designs into cleaner illustrations with different angles to provide for mockup samples with whoever I pick to manufacture with. If I get stuck on something—(which is likely)—I may throw up another poll to bug everyone about palettes and fashion choices. I have a few more designs I haven’t dropped yet for Epilogue Harkers, a non-Bloofer Lucy, and keychains that I’d love to share too!

Eyeballing materials. I’m already picturing a very close-cut cloth for the build and clothes, but I need to decide on filling too. Stiff overstuffing to hold a pose versus softer/lighter plush for floppy cuddleability. 

Poking at other character roughs, ala the Suitor Squad, the Weird Sisters, Van Helsing, Renfield, and Baby Quincey. And if all of those go well…

…maybe some designs for other favorites in the public domain playground. (Looks meaningfully at Clarimonde, Carmilla, Victor Frankenstein and the Creature, the King in Yellow, too many others.) ((But that’s all far-future stuff at the moment.))

Cool! But you also mentioned something about other merch?

I did.

Because goddamn do I want some Dracula-themed stationery. Journals! Memo pads! Pens! Every day we don’t have these things with the Harkers’ mark upon them is a victory for the forces of Count Dracula’s document-destroying evil. Likewise for shirts, totes, mugs, keychains, face masks and other things that could use some novel-flavored goodies. Hell, I’ll probably even get on with making stuff for The Vampyres to link on my website too. Because I am. Maybe behind on that. By several months.

Anyway.

I’ve got to start working on some designs for those too while the plushie process is progressing. Pray that my carpals don’t get tunneled.

Nice! Sounds like your plate is pretty full. So that’s it, right?

:)

Arcane?

:3c

Arcane. I need you to tell me this is all you’re working on.

>:}

Arcane.

Please stand by.

I have a little treat brewing for the Dracula Dailiers and @re-dracula folks in honor of a very special day for our good friend Jonathan Harker.

[valiantstarlights]

Which Hob Gadling Are You? Quiz

Instructions: Get a pen and paper (or open your notes app) to keep track of your answers and scores. Select one response and add +1 to your tally. At the end, the letter with the most number of tally marks is your result. There are 8 possible results, as there are 8 versions of Hob. Enjoy! 😊✨

--

1.) How well do you flirt?

Not sure. There's no one to flirt with. (A)

Fucking terrible. (G)

Not trying, not interested. (E)

Somewhat of a disaster, but I'd like to think there's hope for me. (B)

Not sure. I think I'm decent at it, but... (C)

I'm often not sure if I'm being flirted with, but if the person is my type, then I'll do my best to flirt back! (H)

I know what I'm doing, and hopefully it's my date tonight. ;) (F)

Honestly? I'm at a point in my life where I don't care if I'm good at flirting or not. (D)

2.) How much do you wanna fuck/get fucked by your date?

0% - Not right now. I have other priorities. (E)

25% - I'm not actively thinking about it, but if they're interested, then I'm game. (B and D)

50% - Why not? My date is super hot and I'm very interested in them. But if they're not in the mood, then that's fine, too. (H and C)

75% - Look, I'm making an Effort here. It would be nice if my date could show some interest. (G and A)

100% - OH HECK YEAH (F)

3.) Finish the sentence: "How..."

did you know that I'd still be here? (B)

long should I wait? (A)

did you know my name? (H)

wonderful to see you again. (D)

the hell did I fuck that up? (C)

rude! (G)

do you want me? ;) (F)

much longer until my order gets here? (E)

4.) Pick one word from the list:

Life (E)

Patience (A)

Change (F)

Courage (H)

Wonder (B)

Contentment (D)

Friendship (C)

Prosperity (G)

5.) Do you hate Shakespeare?

Ugh. Do we have to talk about him? I have more important things to worry about. (E)

I'm so glad you asked. Here, make yourself comfortable. I have a 6 hour presentation on why he sucks. (D)

I'd rather read a phonebook. (A)

I don't know who that is. (B)

(sighs) If I say no, will you leave me alone? (C)

THAT FUCKING BASTARD (G)

I watched one of his plays. Still think he's overrated, though. (F)

What's a shake spear? Is that a weapon or something? (H)

6.) How likely are you to say stupid shit?

Everything I say is stupid shit. (G)

Only when I'm drunk. (H)

I have no filter, so... (B)

I'd like to think I have learned not to be so careless. (E)

Fuck! I thought I had it! Apparently not. Gods motherfuck I'm never speaking again. (C)

I'm trying, okay? I really am. (F)

I said stupid shit once and I regret it until now. (A)

Very likely. Just wait and see. Any second now. (D)

--

YES OR NO QUESTIONS: If your answer is yes, +1 to the letter indicated.

7.) Do you believe in love at first sight? (H)

8.) Do you get excited over things/topics that others consider boring? (B)

9.) Are you content with the life you have right now? (G)

10.) Do you still feel hopeful, despite the horrors? (E)

11.) Are you always DTF (Down To Fight)? (F)

12.) Have you ever fallen in love with a friend? (C)

13.) Would you wait/Have you waited for hours for your friend/s to arrive? (A)

14.) Are you willing to wait however long it takes for the love of your life to appear in your life? (D)

--

15.) BONUS: Which is your favorite Hob?

1389 (H)

1489 (B)

1589 (G)

1689 (E)

1789 (F)

1889 (C)

1989 (A)

2022 (D)

--

RESULTS:

Mostly A's = 1989 Hob

Mostly B's = 1489 Hob

Mostly C's = 1889 Hob

Mostly D's = 2022 Hob

Mostly E's = 1689 Hob

Mostly F's = 1789 Hob

Mostly G's = 1589 Hob

Mostly H's = 1389 Hob

[recurring-polynya]

I reblogged that great meta post the other day about Renji filled the role of a heart character, and then I happened to be flipping past this page, which I've probably read a million times before:

I think the takeaway from this panel is supposed to be some neat and ominous foreshadowing about Urahara's bankai. There's also sort of a recurring theme in Urahara's arc of regret that he isn't able to act directly (or perhaps that he has to send/endanger others on his behalf). Urahara-enjoyers can go run with that, if they want, because, as is my way, I will be talking only about Renji.

Bleach is a battle shounen, so of course there is a tendency to rank characters and to tally up Ws and Ls. Renji never fares well in these conversations. Orihime doesn't either, which is absolutely inane, because her primary power is *healing*, and none of the main cast would still be around if it weren't for her. It was suddenly interesting for me to read this line, and think suddenly think of Renji in the same light.

Urahara isn't the only captain who holds back using his bankai. Ukitake jumps into Kyouraku's fight with Stark because he doesn't want Kyouraku to have to go to bankai. Shinji can't use his when other people are around. Unohana went to the trouble of becoming one of the best healers in the series in order be able to fight with her bankai for more than 0.6 seconds.

On the other hand, shit starts to go down, and Hihiou Zabimaru is out, immediately. Hihiou Zabimaru is an accessible bankai, a familiar bankai. They can run down 16 Menos in a row, but they can also crash through a wall, or work as a mode of transportation, or you can even use them for a surprise attack. They are good for training and giving people strength, whether it's helping Chad learn his powers, or giving Ichigo something to beat on when he needs to work his way out of a depressive funk.

Color Bleach+ notes that Squad 6 admires Byakuya, but they like Renji. I think that's just a microcosm of a larger theme though-- in Bleach, power sets you apart, makes you remote, makes you something different from those around you. Aizen and Stark are noted to be profoundly lonely. Urahara and Kyouraku have to send people they care about to their deaths as they hold themselves back for strategic reasons. Gin and Hitsugaya poison their relationships with their favorite people because of their devotions to their own separate duties. The one-shot reveals that captains can't even go back into the resurrection cycle and have to go to Hell instead.

Renji gets pretty powerful by the end of the series. He even replaces Hihiou Zabimaru with Sou-oh Zabimaru, who is better for killing guys, but you can't hitch a ride on them. He never becomes a captain, though. The longer I've thought about this, the more I love this ending for him. He gets to marry the woman he loves and have a kid, he gets to keep running his squad with his weirdo captain/bestie, he still gets to go drinking with the other lieutenants. It's exactly parallel to Ichigo's ending, in the sense that he chooses his friends and loved ones over the pursuit of power. Like, Kubo was really not fucking around when he superimposed those images of Ichigo and Renji swearing on their souls as Renji is fighting Byakuya and decides that dying while doing his best to save Rukia was worth it, even if he never ends up surpassing Byakuya.

He doesn't die, though, he gets to live, and help out his friends and train people with his bankai and make them stronger and I think that is very fucking based of him.

[nyazhis-jsablr]

Battle of the Blixers - Finale Results

“Welcome to the final post of the Battle of the Blixers! I’m your host Step, and it was a very fun and intense competition thus far!”

“It was very fun seeing every submission, as well as how the contest played out! I will definitely miss doing this.

“But that aside, the end is now upon us, and with that, let’s see who won this entire thing!”

PLACEMENT POINTS

“So first off, we have the placement points! These points will be awarded to the competitors based on their placement on the podium at the end of C5!”

“And here they are!”

“Welp, it’s how it always was! Blixter & Eclipses in the top two, with everyone else fighting for 3rd, in this case, the other Blixter!” “In any case, let’s head to Category 2!”

ABSTRUSE DECIPHER POINTS

“This is the prize for guessing the song correctly!”

“Blixer Eclipses got the song correctly, so he’s getting 3 extra points!”

AUDIENCE VOTE

“Now, we have the audience vote! We already saw the outcome, with Blixter winning over the audience yet again! Let’s award everyone’s points now!”

JURY VOTE

“Now for the jury vote! The way this works is that the jury lists the entries from 1-3, their least favorite being 1 and most favorite being 3. Afterwards, I tally up the results and get the final number!”

“Before I reveal the points though, here’s a statement from the one and only Blixer Kunzite! literally hes the only one that voted during the voting period”

JSABAddict’s submission:

“What a very interesting fight! Didn’t expect such a…brute, to have skillful moves like that. I’d say this one caught my eye, sad that they weren’t able to kill their opponent but, oh well! As for the ‘begging’, as you put it, poor reasons. I believe them when they said they joined for fun and thrill but, c’mon! What about the glory and respect you would get from winning!? Ah, apologies for the yelling. Now then, I’d say they’re in between, not the worst nor the best.”

Zim-card’s submission:

“Quite an interesting yet odd ending, in my own opinion..but nonetheless, I think they did well! But..a bit disappointed AGAIN by the fact that another square wasn’t at least damaged, MORE disappointed it ended off in good terms. The reasons for winning are well put, I have been watching from afar how they had been handling every challenge well— expect for the cooking one. I’d say this is also in between! I’ll..have to think how I’ll rank these..”

Starwlf’s submission:

“As for this one..I LOVE IT! The fact that you managed to actually defeat the player while also giving good reasons! The first time being apart of this to gain some sort of ego boost through this and showing your strength! Wonderful! Very solid reasons, along with skillful moves— other than the fact they did managed to get hurt in the face, but they proved themselves worthy, to me.”

“Well that’s that! Can’t believe nobody else was available during voting… anyways… Here’s the results!”

COMPETITOR VOTE

“And now, here’s the competitor vote, where each of the competitors voted on each other!”

“Here’s what they each have to say!”

starwlf Blixter (told thru starwlf’s perspective):

My point goes to zim’s submission. Blixter enjoys watching a good fight. And man was it delivered. And seeing such a shift to a kinder tone gave him a reminder of his own loved one. A fight against a narrative is all too familiar for him.

Blixer Eclipses:

Probably starwlf (cause in the end zim's gonna win regardless so I figured to like. barely even it out, I dunno)

zim-card Blixter:

“I gotta send a vote to starwlf. I like his determination and confidence, I can understand his stance within this whole challenge as someone new to the ring. I also find it sweet that he's willing to split the prize when he wins... I'd do the same too, honestly. Sure, I'm off put at the successful murder so hm... ah, I can't exactly be the judge of morals when the challenge did ask for a duel. My vote still stands for the fella!”

“So we got 2 votes for starwlf’s Blixter, and a vote for zim’s Blixter! Let’s convert them to points!”

STEP’S EXTRA CREDIT

“Now it’s MY turn to judge!”

“For starwlf’s Blixter, I love the intensity! And actually succeeding in defeating, good job!”

“For Blixer Eclipses, although not much hits were dealt, you put up a good fight with that amazing dodging skills! I also find it pretty funny that he kept dodging the blasts when it’s usually the other way around… heh.”

“For zim-card’s Blixter, the fight was pretty cool! But at the same time you somehow made up with your Cyan and uhhhhhhhh”

“sorry youre going below the others”

“Anyways, let’s get to the points I’m giving out!”

“And the winner of the Battle of the Blixers is……”

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!!!BLIXTER!!!

Total Points:

@zim-card : 30

@jsabaddict : 29

@starwlf : 27

“Congratulations for winning, now here are your prizes!”

“Yeah, I figured that the runner-ups should receive consolation prizes, so me and Pulse just scrambled around the ‘tower’ and found these.”

“Anyways, that’s it!”

“Like I said, it was amazing holding this competition, and I hope me and everyone else had a fun time with it! Now we’re done, so so long! For the last time…

My name is Step, and this has been the Battle of the Blixers! Until then, see you!”

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“So what now?”

“To be honest I have no clue. Probably gonna sleep and also watch these other universes I found. Speaking of, there’s this one cool universe I found, their Barracuda is a snake man who is extreme evil, and last I checked the you and me in it were working together!”

“Okay.”

“Oh, and their Lycanthropy was my brother? I think? Was it blood or found? I don’t remember.”

“Speaking of, I gazed into the Black Room again. I think I saw someone, but it might’ve just been me. Looked a lot like your descriptions of th……..

The two continued their talk, which if I will fill this ending segment with, Tumblr might actually crash lmfao

Anyways, sorry the ending post took so long, i suddenly got a small internship somewhere so it was a bit busy

Other than that, fun contest, yeah? It was really fun hosting it for me!! But if it wasnt fun for any of the competitors, i am genuinely really sorry and i wanna make it up to you if i can

Idk if ill do another contest, but if i will then idk when lol

I have an idea for this tho, maybe a talk-show like thing where step interviews jsab fancharacters?

BotB is gonna be my main au now cuz i gotten extremely attached to the botb gang (which is canonically only step & pulse, but the others are gonna join in if i introduce them in botb lore lol)

Sorry H*I & main au, i dont wanna play with you anymore /ref

Anyways have a good day!!!! Nyazhi out!!!!

[artofshinga]

A bit ago I did a whole-ass set of warlocks based on D&D 5e subclasses - mostly for fun and also because my RP group was planning a warlock game. I didn't HAVE to draw one of each but doing so DID help me decide which one I wanted to play (this is, to note, why the characters are all pretty fem-coded - because that's my favorite to RP) Anyway, after I drew them all, folks asked if I'd do other classes too. And I was like, maybe? But, sorcerer did sound fun to do this with so over the last few months I've been working on them kinda on the side while I put most my energy in, like, the commissions I need to finish lol. But here, a bunch of theoretical sorcerers I'd personally play in a game:

Let's start us off with Iris, a half-elf who'd be living a pretty normal life in a normal job (I was thinking she was probably a waitress or somethin) until she finds something weird - a piece of a meteor or something, you know how it goes. Suddenly she has powers, and that's where her adventure would begin More sorcerers under the cut!

Tally I struggled with because, as it turns out, little mechanical fairy wings are complicated to draw. BUT also fun - I liked the idea of a fairy who's lost her wings and while she's trapped in the material plane she befriends a clockmaker who builds her little wings for her and eventually her magic ends up kind of syncing up with the mechanical way he teaches her about the world

Elysia was actually the last one I drew, since I have a DIFFERENT Divine Soul sorcerer I've already designed and want to play as a priority, but then I happened to see something about Greek gods while watching TV one day and thought, oh hey, that'd be a fun way to play with a divinity-themed sorcerer - maybe a musician that caught the affections of a god who blessed her with magic

Cherish is a cheerful tiefling working at an inn with her former-adventurer mother. We can guess what sort of things her mother got up to in her adventure since she ended up raising a child with some mysteriously draconic features

NGL Aine was just a way for me to play with some of the inspirations I used to cling to as a kid. Sailor Moon and other various bits of anime and JRPGs and such that I loved in my youth and used a LOT to inspire art. I wanted to remember that - and a catgirl wearing too many belts sounded perfect for that

Leila is probably my weirdest - she's SPECIFIC, like if there's a campaign set in the Shadowfell or something, I imagined a maid working in a mansion that gets magicked away to this realm and her gaining that shadow power when it happens

One of my first 5e characters was a storm sorcerer - more focused on rain and lightning and thunder. I used the same hair color and close to the same skin color to make this new storm sorcerer as a bit of a nod to that character, and wanted this one more focused on winter storms (including making her a winter eladrin elf)

and last but certainly not least, Gemma the halfling cursed with wild magic. I think she started off her adventuring life with a thieves' group before they found the wrong magic artifact. You know how it goes

[liillyliilly]

His Diary

akaashi keiji x reader words; 10082 synopsis; For Akaashi Keiji, love meant letting someone know him better than he knew himself. It also meant being okay with letting her read his diary.

She decided that this was her new favorite book. It had all the right amounts of everything in it, drama, romance, depression, self-loathing. The journal she found was likely never written to be read. The journal he lost, the journal that Akaashi Keiji misplaced on a train going home from his editing job, he never expected to become a crux in his journey to love.

In all honesty, she didn’t even know it was a journal. It just seemed to be an episodic novel with a unique font, something along the vein of The Perks of Being A Wallflower. She only ever knew the leather-bound pages as a novel with no name. The author used a first-person perspective when writing and told the story of a young volleyball player who wanted desperately to find a passion, so he surrounded himself with others who had passion. What he seemed to enjoy more than playing the sport was writing though.

The author of the untitled book loved to read because the way he wrote made everything else she had read pale in comparison to the inky brilliance. He had captured teenager-dom with such sleight of hand that she believed his writing was made of magic and fairy dust. The story made her cry, made her groan, and made her feel second-hand embarrassment to an extreme she thought wasn’t possible.

When she read the first chapter, she realized she ought to pace her reading, because there were only so many entries. And she had no way of contacting or looking up the author, there was no information of who the author was on the back of the book. There was a Fukurodani Sticker, a school she remembers from her own time at a high school nearby, they were known for their volleyball skills and prowess, so she assumed maybe the author had some lived experience when it came to volleyball. Maybe that was a hobby aside from being a writer of such compelling stories.

She carried it everywhere from the day she picked it up on the floor of the train, it was always in her backpack, purse, and suitcase. She never left it alone, it had become a part of her. She felt like somehow this author reached into her heart and left fingerprints of his making into permanent fixtures of her anatomical structure. DATE: XX-XX-2013 TITLE: Alethiology; The Study of Truth

Today I realized that maybe I am all that I will be. My capacity has limits in comparison to others. A friend of a friend told me that their volleyball captain made a speech once, not to the whole team, just talking with buddies. His speech, or at least the parts I remember from it, was devastating. He said something like guys like Atsumu and all those geniuses, do things on a scale of 1-20, whereas normal guys like me do things on a scale of 1-10. Or maybe they have a denser more compact 1-10. And if 1-20 doesn’t work out, they try things from A to Z.

I’ve never thought of things like that. There’s always been a straightforward path for me, whereas, in comparison to Bokuto, he seems to have a much longer and more complex route ahead of him. Am I all that I will be? Is there a way for the normal guy to switch from 1-10 and try 1-20?

We have another game soon, maybe I can control more than I expect. Is flight into this world of geniuses possible? I can only control myself and my thoughts, but maybe there are external factors that contribute to my role on this team. My role in life as well.

Bokuto is asking for me, I need to go. Hope I can write again soon, but with all the games we’ll be playing I’m doubtful I can write with actual thoughts and not just tallies and plays from the games.

- A.K.

“I mean, who thinks of things like that Miwa?” She sits in the styling chair, getting a refresher on her hair. Miwa snips away lightly, inspecting each strand with duty and consideration for the entire look.

“Your author crush does.” Miwa brushes away some hair from Y/N’s shoulders, tidying up the apron wrapped around her.

She just rolls her eyes at Miwa’s comment. Flipping to the page in the book, tracing a finger over the deep black gel pen markings. Numbers and dashes and names of high schools against Fukurodani tell the story of the adventure at Tokyo’s national volleyball tournament from way back in 2013. She had barely started her second year of middle school in 2013, ripely being 14 years old.

Miwa and her sip some freshly made smoothies of Miwa’s creation, sitting at a table in the window of the entrance to the salon. Miwa bounces her foot that’s crossed over her leg and she pours over the entry once again. It was becoming addicting to choose one entry to re-read until she ingrained the stylistic choices into a deep long-term memory.

At that same moment, Bokuto Koutarou and his best friend Akaashi Keiji walk past Miwa’s Salon, attempting to plan a group hangout to celebrate Bokuto joining the MSBY Black Jackals team.

“I’ll need to make sure Konoha comes, and that he brings that cute friend of his for you,” Bokuto wiggles his eyebrows repeatedly, and Akaashi shoves him lightly on the shoulder.

“Konoha is dating that cute girl he brings around.” Akaashi clarifies. Bokuto looks stunned, but then he remembers them making out on his couch during movie night that one time.

Akaashi looks around the street for a moment, peeking into the windows and observing the various occupants. When he sees his journal, the one that’s been missing for a little over a year, he just has to get it back.

When Akaashi pulls Bokuto into the hair salon, and barely below a scream says, “You stole my journal!” pointing at the girl who was indeed holding his journal from high school, Bokuto feels like his head was put through a blender. There were three very distinct things occurring at that moment. A pretty girl was shoving a book into her bag looking very defensive, Akaashi was trying to take the aforementioned girl’s bag from her, and a girl who he assumed was the pretty girl’s friend had a pair of scissors pointing at Bokuto by the throat.

Akaashi was still trying to pull the bag away, the pretty girl was looking extremely scared, and the scissors girl had opened and closed them one too many times for Bokuto’s comfort.

“Listen, I think we should all just take a moment to pause.” Bokuto held his hands up, shuffling to outturn his pockets in a show of lack of violent intentions. The black-haired girl puts the scissors back into her half apron that’s around her waist and then folds her arms.

Bokuto then pries Akaashi away from the pretty girl who was now clutching her bag against her chest and sniffling a little. Akaashi did feel bad that he made such a bad first impression, but he swore she had his journal. His embarrassing high school journal, the same journal that had cataloged many things he wished he never had recorded down on paper.

Bokuto pushes Akaashi’s head down, forcing him into a deep bow. Bokuto follows suit and also bows.

“I’m sorry for, uh, trying to steal your bag. But I think you may have a book, that isn’t a book at all, but rather my journal.” Akaashi is now sitting at the table in the window, Bokuto, the black-haired girl, and the pretty girl also sitting with him.

Outside the evening had quickly set in, with the orange and pink colors racing to get to the skyline. The blue began to fade into a deep dark navy color. And the lights on the streets began to flicker on. The lights on the outside of the salon began to twinkle from the setting they had been placed on, fairy lights luring those with a need for a haircut into the salon.

Bokuto had his head on his hand, staring intensely at the girl who had taken Akaashi’s journal, sighing slightly at the way her lips pouted and shined from her lip gloss. The girl with the scissors had brought out two more glasses of thick smoothie.

She pulled out the journal from her Doughnut Macaroon-style crossbody bag and slid it over to Akaashi. Akaashi flipped through the pages, immediately recognizing it as his. His face goes red and he readjusts his glasses, and she realizes that this must be his journal. He even goes straight to the back cover and smiles at the sticker she had grown to love to trace with her pinkie when reading.

“I’m not done with it yet, so, I really do hate to say this, but you can’t have it back until I finish it.” She takes the book back and tucks it into her bag again. Akaashi looks dumbfounded, eyebrows raised and lips pursed into a line.

“You’re just going to keep private property? Even though you know it’s mine?” What a dauntless woman she was, to show what Akaashi considered to be audacity with the whole journal situation.

Bokuto chimes in at this point, “Akaashi, I think we should just let the pretty girl keep your little diary.” Bokuto then starts nodding his head up and down to try and get agreement from Akaashi. Akaashi scoffs.

“Okay, so it’s settled, my cutie of a best friend will keep the journal until she finishes it, we’ll get your numbers and she can contact y’all when she finishes the journal, and I get to cut both of y’all’s hair because honestly, it’s atrocious.” Leave it to Miwa to consolidate a plan in a matter of moments.

Miwa touched the spiky salt and pepper hair that Bokuto had, and Miwa’s expression turned sour when she felt the amount of gel on top of his head, then Miwa pulled out a photo of Yuki Ishikawa in a two-block cut and explained what color of black dye Miwa will use for Bokuto. For Akaashi, Miwa just did a trim and tidied up his sides to bring them slightly tighter into his face.

While annoyed, Akaashi does give her his number, along with his name, and Bokuto does the same with much more enthusiasm. After the haircuts are finished, Akaashi tries to pull Bokuto away from the salon, but Bokuto keeps doing the ‘call me later’ signal with his hand and blowing a kiss to her wistfully. She just waves to the both of them while Miwa giggles behind her dye-stained glove. DATE: XX-XX-13 TITLE: Meraki; Putting A Piece of Yourself Into Your Passion

I am the protagonist of the world. We lost but I am still alive, we lost but I loved the game. I came to the realization that it doesn’t matter if you are the best character, the most complex, or the most ‘genius’ of them all. It doesn’t matter because I am the protagonist. I can be the hero of my own story without ever having won first place in a big-name tournament.

Bokuto is graduating, and I’ll still be here, which is disappointing. He’s my best friend I think. Even if he’s the most annoying ass I’ve ever met, he’s still my best friend and I would never trade him for any other person in the entire world. Together we are the protagonists of the world.

Second place is just as accoladed as first place. If I wasn’t who I am, then maybe I would’ve gotten mad. The first-place winner is a rich school, they’ve been a powerhouse for decades at this point, and this win is just another notch on the belt. If I wasn’t who I am, especially after this tournament, maybe I would’ve gotten frustrated at myself for not doing enough. For not being a setter like Kageyama. Or a setter like Oikawa. That doesn’t matter though, I am a setter. I’ve worked hard to get where I am. But a human mind will always wonder why. And sometimes it's just because you’re unlucky.

Kenma told me about his loss to Karasuno, his sweaty hands made the ball slip in the final point. He laughed about it, he said that that was the best game of volleyball he’s ever played. When Kenma told Kuroo thanks for teaching him volleyball, I cried, but not as much as Kuroo did. They remind me of why I went to Fukurodani. I saw Bokuto’s passion for the sport. His passion encouraged mine, and look where we got to. We because the victors at the end of the war.

Mom made katsu chicken for dinner, I did some homework, and I had to put away my volleyball uniform for next year. I practiced in my backyard, alternating between overhead and underhand passes, seeing how long I could go without dropping the ball. Dad called me into the house for ice cream after thirty minutes elapsed.

I called Bokuto tonight before I went to bed. Told him that he’s my best friend and that I love volleyball. Bokuto agreed.

- A.K.

She was crying, and so she held the book out in front of her, resting it on her blanket. She finally had some faces to match with the words she was reading, and it all felt much too real. Bokuto did seem like the type of person to adopt and bring a person like Akaashi into his fold. But the way that Akaashi genuinely admired and appreciated his best friend was unparalleled and she felt like he would understand the exact way she felt about her best friend, Miwa.

Miwa and her met when she was fresh out of college. She hadn’t an idea of what to do in her life, while Miwa seemed to have her passion set out in front of her with her hair and makeup salon. When she got a haircut from Miwa and started ranting about her life, Miwa just told her to slow everything down. Take a gap year from life and just be a human. So, she picked up shifts at Miwa’s salon and moved in with her.

The best friends slowly became business partners as well, and an expansion to the salon was added, a small specialty bookshop that she ran, while Miwa continued to do hairstyling. Their customers were dedicated and loved to support their business. Branding remained solely under Miwa’s name, but she became everything else to the brand as well, the little addition that made the salon extra special.

When she started to cough a little from the way her heart was beating erratically from crying about Akaashi’s diary, she had to get out of bed and get a glass of water. Akaashi’s number was resting on her kitchen table. Miwa was watching some rom-com in the living room of their shared apartment. She brushed pasted the kitchen and sat next to Miwa.

“A good chapter?” Miwa threw a piece of popcorn into her mouth.

“He’s devastating. Who writes like they feel every emotion entirely?” She started crying again and Miwa laughed a little before rubbing her best friend’s back.

“You could always call him and tell him he’s a good writer if you need to talk about it. Sure it’s unconventional, but maybe he has more insights that you can cry to.” She grabbed a pillow and started hitting Miwa with it.

She did take Akaashi’s number into her room on her way back to bed though. Leaving the series of digits on her bedside table, she re-read the passage and cried again. She thinks she knows him better than most, but they aren’t even friends.

Since realizing he’s a person, and that Akaashi lived this story in the book. The story of his life recorded in his journal, she starts to wonder about what happened to him after he stopped writing in the diary. But she hasn’t finished the story yet, so she’ll have to see what happens next. Again, trying to pace herself, she puts the book away until tomorrow when she can read a little more.

Akaashi sits in his office, he’s still there and it’s much later than the clock would like to admit. The clock wondered if Akaashi would ever go home. But there he was, reviewing the different styles of manga serializations Udai Tenma wanted to try out for his next series. His haircut makes him feel a little colder because now the air can hit right behind his ear instead of being covered with his hair. He puts on a beanie to fight the chill.

When it gets too late at night, his mind tends to wander slightly. Just barely drifting out of his control, like the way a lily pad will drift to the center of a pond when the stem at the base of the connection is severed. He can’t dive into the pond to bring his thoughts back into his hands.

He thinks about her. The girl with his journal. The journal was a cheap 2,500 yen book, but he liked the paper, it was a cold press thicker GSM than most other paper forms. Gel inks went on smoothly to the paper, letting him get more words across by the second than if he was writing with a ballpoint. He remembers that from when he used to write in the journal in high school.

Throwing himself into the back of his seat, he rubs his face, his glasses almost falling off from how he runs his hands up from his chin to his forehead. Setting the glasses on his desk, he spins his chair a little. The clock screams at him, he takes the message from his dedicated clock and grabs his messenger bag.

On the train, he thinks about her again. Instead of getting irritated at how Bokuto essentially gave his journal away to a stranger again, he wonders what her thoughts are. Was his writing any good to warrant such a committed reader? Did she like his journal only because it was funny to read what his dramatic high school self wrote about?

He cringes thinking about all the potential things he wrote down. There’s no direct recollection of what he wrote down exactly, but he knows vaguely what was on his mind when he was writing. His ego, his insecurities, his favorite things. Lots about volleyball, Bokuto, and books. Once he wrote about his thoughts on sex, which is embarrassing for him that a grown woman is reading his teenage idealizations of intimacy.

It could be considered something unique to read. Akaashi settled into the belief that she was merely reading his journal because it was something different than typical books that were being published. Although, why she was reading his journal instead of a Haruki Murakami book was beyond him. Nothing beats his favorite literary giant.

Setting his bag on the coat hanger stand, and shrugging out of his long pea coat. He heats some stovetop ramen while listening to Bokuto talk over the phone, he was ranting about the same girl that Akaashi had had on his mind.

“Oh and those eyes of hers. Did you see them?” Of course, Akaashi saw them, they were big, bright, and astute. Akaashi hums in response, and Bokuto continues barreling through his late-night thoughts.

“I think we should invite her to my party. You know, the one to celebrate my big accomplishment.” In a different apartment, Bokuto spins a volleyball on his finger, but he keeps dropping it so he ends up just repeatedly tossing it into the air so he can satiate the desire to feel his fingers on the ball.

“Yeah, how about no.”

Bokuto asks why not, almost in a whining tone.

“Did you forget she has my journal still?” Akaashi put his bowl in the sink, putting on rubber gloves as he started to wash out the dish and then put it on the drying rack. He decided to finish all his dishes right now anyway since he still had the gloves on.

“Your diary can’t be that juicy, you didn’t do anything too dramatic in high school. Plus I know you wanna see her again too. Don’t pretend like you don’t have a piqued interest. Also, did I use piqued right?”

“You used it right, yes.”

He eventually agreed to let Bokuto invite her to the small get-together. Akaashi didn’t know why Bokuto kept referring to it as a party.

A week later, Akaashi realized that maybe Bokuto kept calling it a party because it had shifted from a friends-only gathering to a huge party at the park. Some other Fukurodani alumni helped to set up decorations in the central gazebo and make banners to hang all over the pavilion. Akaashi was mixing the punch at a table, while Konoha asked what he had been up to lately.

Kuroo and Kenma brought huge gifts for Bokuto, a PlayStation from Kenma, and a packet of potential sponsorship deals from Kuroo.

When she finally made her way to the pavilion with a small brown package, Akaashi couldn't care less about the party. She was wearing a tight-fitting black shirt with a tiered white and gold skirt, and her shoes were a pair of sneakers, but the whole outfit made Akaashi concede to Bokuto’s claim of her being “drool-worthy”. He had to remember that this was the same woman who had his diary. The whole conflict between physical attraction and mental frustration made for an entirely convoluted reaction to her presence.

She bows politely to Bokuto when he goes over to her, offering the gift with both hands, only then did Akaashi wonder how old she must have been. Bokuto had been talking to her more than him, and Bokuto had mentioned that she was a second-year middle schooler when Bokuto was in his third year. Akaashi did some mental math and realized that he, himself, must have been around three to four years older than her.

Akaashi forced himself to ignore the idea of a cute younger girlfriend that started to pester him in the back of his mind. He wanted his journal back, and that’s all this relationship was to him, a mutual exchange of her reading and then him eventually getting back his property. But with the way she had done her hair, Akaashi had a hard time focusing solely on wanting his diary returned.

She was glad that Bokuto appreciated the gift, she hadn’t known him longer than a week or so, and she had gone with a safe gift based on what she knew about him and why this party was even being thrown. She got him a wearable jump monitor that her dad had bought a month ago but never used, she was grateful for having a father who never threw things away. She also included some stickers that she had bought from a small sticker shop online, and some that she had made using Miwa’s craft supplies.

When the excitement of her being at the park died down, she made her way to a table, with a small plate of desserts. She observed how everyone interacted with each other, almost as if they had been friends since the dawn of time, and she believed that that very well might have been the case.

Akaashi stalked her from afar. He appreciated that she was similar to him in a way that mattered to him, she was a watcher. She would assess what was going on, who would talk to who, and how they would nonverbally communicate as well. He got so engrossed in watching her that he neglected to observe the others as well.

Specifically, Konoha, Washio, and Komi had grabbed a water cooler and had the full intention of dumping the water on Akaashi. It was payback for declining their invitations to various other parties from the last year. So there he was, not only soaked through with water but revealed from his vantage point unmistakably indicating to her that he must have been watching her. She laughed a little at the antics but then brought over a small cloth she had in her crossbody bag.

His white shirt was completely transparent, and his brown slacks had turned from a regular light brown into a dark musty brown. The only way to resolve the issue in her mind was to start dabbing at his chest with her handkerchief.

“I see that your friends have a peculiar method of exacting humor.” Her handkerchief eventually was too soaked through that she was just touching his chest with a cloth that had performed osmosis and was now at equilibrium with the water on his shirt.

“Yep.”

“Look, there’s a hoodie in my car, I know we aren’t too close, but it’s probably better to wear my oversized hoodie than to have your whole torso on display for the rest of the night.” She shoves her thumb in the direction of her car.

After making their way to her car, she digs through the trunk and pulls out a grey hoodie with the words ‘Miwa’s Salon’ embroidered on the back. He tugs at the back of his shirt to take it off and she widens her eyes before turning around. The hoodie is comfortable, with a soft fleece on the inside, and it smelt like lychee, vanilla, and surprisingly chocolate marshmallows. It smells like her and he wonders if he could have the scent bottled and then sprayed all over his house.

Suddenly he’s tugging at the collar of the hoodie and swallowing thickly, looking around at anything but her figure in front of him.

“We should probably get heading back to everyone now that you’ve changed.” She goes to start walking to the gazebo, but Akaashi’s words stop her.

“How well do you know me?” She tilted her head and said something about not following along with what he was saying, so he continued, “Well, you’re reading a part of me, you know with my journal, my internal thoughts and hopes and dreams and all that. So, how well do you know me?”

She timidly bites down on her bottom lip, formulating a response. But Akaashi surmises that she must not really care much for the conversation, so he, unfortunately, starts to run his mouth and the words just spiral out.

“You know, it doesn’t matter, to you, it’s just a story about a teenage boy who played volleyball. It’s silly to assume you’d try and actually-”

She cuts in, “I know you’re a considerate person. And it's not just about the volleyball stuff, it's about you, finding yourself to some degree. I know you are polite. I know you’re allergic to beating around the bush, you’re direct and blunt. I know that you can overthink too much.”

Akaashi repeatedly adjusted his glasses, and she stepped just a little bit closer to him, folding her hands behind her back and leaning in slightly so she didn’t have to talk as loudly.

“You also have a bad habit of thinking you can control more than you can, one of the interesting things in your journal is how you jump back and forth between knowing what you can control and then inflating from stress and thinking you can micromanage the entire world. You said you can control the court, but in reality, that’s your worldview. You conclude you can control the entire world sometimes.”

He regrets starting the conversation because this revelation of how much she knew about him exposes him. Akaashi didn’t know how to continue with the gap in knowledge between the two of them.

He only knew she was younger than him, she was incredibly perceptive, and she smelled so freaking good he just wanted to shove her into the backseat of her car and kiss her. Akaashi’s thoughts could not have been his own at this point, he was going crazy. He must have gotten sick from the cold water being dumped on him he speculates.

When they get back to the gazebo, Akaashi thanks Bokuto for the party and heads home. She stays at the party, talking to a select few people and wondering what exactly she said that scared Akaashi off so quickly.

Sitting in the tub, Akaashi rests his head against the shower wall and lets the hot water filter his congestion that didn’t exist. His hand twitched over to his phone, which was on the toilet seat playing some piano music that he hoped would alleviate all his bad habits. He wonders if she will text him soon. If she would text him ever. He felt like he was younger, it was ridiculous that one person would have such an effect on him to this degree.

After the party, she sits with Miwa, disclosing everything that happened at the party.

“And then he just ran off?” She nods at Miwa repeating what she just said. “Girlie, you gave him an in-depth review of his personality and you’re shocked that he ran away? Sometimes you can be too judicious for your own good.”

“Should I text him an apology?”

“Are you sorry for anything?” Miwa rolled her eyes, hating when she got like this. Miwa never allowed her to apologize for things that didn’t need to be apologized for.

“No.” She rubs her arm and chews the inside of her cheek.

“I think you think he’s hot, I mean, you understand this man on a deeper level that he now grasps, and you said he had the chest and torso of some kind of slutty librarian/gym rat agglomeration.” Miwa takes a bobby pin out of her hair and runs a hand through her bob cut, “If it was me, I would send him a picture of the journal and ask for nudes, or else the book gets it.”

She hits Miwa with a pillow, and Miwa realizes she really should throw the pillows away or else getting hit with them would be a very painful recurrence.

Miwa goes to sleep, but she stays up just a little later. Eyeing Akaashi’s number that lay painfully glaring at her. She decides to read more of his diary instead of texting him. DATE: XX-XX-13 TITLE: Weltschmerz; Sadness When The World Isn’t As It Should Be

Summer sucks. Bokuto has a training thing for some team he wants to be a part of in the future. All my friends that were third years are essentially gone, actually out and living life, and I’m stuck here. At least there’s only one more year left of high school. And then I can go and work for a literary magazine.

I miss people. Despite their failings, I do need people in my life.

You can only play so much volleyball in a day by yourself before your motivation is gone by the third week of playing alone.

It’s times like these that make me think about the future. I don’t spend much time with girls per se, but they are pretty and nice. Our manager is a girl, but she has a boyfriend. She’s chill.

Sometimes, when I feel like something is wrong, I turn to the idea of love. I’ll admit that I love a few things in life, but that’s only because I think love is something truly special that you can’t just fling around. I ‘like’ things more often than I ‘love’ them. Volleyball, my best friend, my family, books, and writing.

Will I know when I’ve found the love of my life? My parents said they knew they loved each other from the first moment they met. Will I feel like that too? Will I know it’s love? How can a feeling be recognized as a specific feeling? How do I know what anger feels like, besides that heat and pressure and red hot sun? How do I know what sadness feels like, besides water, coldness, and finishing a run? Would love have those distinct colors and associations? Or would love just become the person I love?

I don’t believe in soulmates. Definitely not. I think people are infinitely compatible, and it all depends on our ability to communicate and agree to grow with a person for the rest of our lives. I believe we make our own soulmates, through sharing experiences and agreeing to be ourselves no matter what. I told my mom this and she just smiled at me like I still had a lot of life left to live.

But don’t I have enough experience to know what I want? Or at least to formulate my own opinions and beliefs? I may be 17 but I am not an idiot.

Or did my mom’s look of a wistful future just mean that when I fall in love I’ll know it and I’ll look back to these words and think I’m completely ridiculous?

Dad made spaghetti for dinner. It was gross so we ended up having to order udon from the place I like instead.

We watched a movie Mom wanted to show me, the title was something like Wildly Wealthy Westerners or something. It was just about rich people from America and Canada, plus a subplot of romance between a basic guy and this rich heiress girl who just couldn’t be together because of rich people's reasons. It was silly but the music was good. The ending kiss scene was hot, he shoved her into the backseat of his jeep and I swear I heard Mom sigh.

- A.K.

She didn’t expect him to text her on Monday of the following week, asking if they could meet for tea at a place near his work during his lunch break. She surprised herself by agreeing to it, and then by cheekily calling it a date.

Akaashi shoved his phone into Udai’s face, “What does this mean?”

Udai pushed his bangs back and inspected the text messages on Akaashi’s phone. “I think it means she agreed to go on the date you asked her on?”

“But I didn’t ask her on a date?”

“Oh, but you definitely did. Oh and tea? What dork takes a girl for tea on a first date?” Udai pushed Akaashi’s phone away and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Then Udai’s face breaks into a blinding grin, “Is this your little diary thief? And the one who gave you the sweater at Bo’s party? Oh, it is isn’t it, do you have a picture of her?”

Akaashi briefly flashed a photo Bokuto had taken with her in Udai’s direction.

“DAMN! I need me my own diary thief,” Udai raised his eyebrows and started laughing a little, and then he ruffled his hair and used his fingers to zoom into her face, slowly, he started moving down the picture to her body. Akaashi pulled his phone back before Udai got too far down.

The clock on Akaashi’s desk wanted him to leave for an early lunch and by an early lunch, an hour early. So there he sat at the small cafe on the corner by his office building, rubbing his sweaty hands against the legs of his pants, waiting for her. She was five minutes early and was surprised to see him already at a table, so she decided to have a little fun.

Since his back was turned, she went up to him and tapped his shoulder, when he turned around she let out a small “Boo!” and put her hands up into an imitation of claws, trying her best to seem scary. He just thought she was adorable. He motioned for her to sit down.

Resting her crossbody bag against the back of the chair, she took a seat. Akaashi was able to wave down a waiter, who gave them a single menu to look over.

“What kind of tea do you like?” She asked, using her pointer finger to scan through the options the cafe had available.

“I like black tea, and sometimes chamomile tea.” He asked her for her favorite type, and she told him. He tried to commit her favorite to memory as quickly as possible.

Eventually, they had their tea, and the silence started to set in. Between sips, Akaashi would try to figure out how to say what he wanted to say. But he thought it was all too bold. So he told her a little about his life, his work, and his friends and she did the same, returning statements in a unique fashion about her life. Her word choice was special, calculated even. She was like him in another way that mattered, a calculated, intentional way of speaking.

She could always make him yearn to be a little more considerate of his words. Until she managed to pry them out of him.

“So why am I here?” She stirs a little more sugar into her tea, then pauses from drinking her tea to take a sip of her water.

“I want one of your journals.”

She laughs before realizing he’s entirely serious, “How do you even know that I have any journals to lend to you? For all you know, I could be living a journal-less life.” She waves her small stirring spoon around, before putting it into her mouth.

“I can’t explain it, but I know you have journals. Only someone with a journal of their own would be so obsessed with another’s.” Akaashi takes the spoon from her mouth and uses it to stir some sugar into his tea. Her mouth gapes for a moment while he smirks, looking right into her intelligent eyes.

The next day they have tea again, and she gives him one of her journals from high school.

“Don’t read it all in one go.” She pauses, “I don’t write nearly as well as you do, so don’t scrutinize my words the way you do all your mangakas’ words.”

Akaashi nods.

He read it all in one night. He calls her in the middle of said night.

“Who the hell is this Ito kid? When did you and he start talking? Just outta nowhere he pops up at the end of your last entry. Where’s the careful recollection of all your interactions with him?” Akaashi is exasperated, running his hand through his hair. He disagreed with what she said about her writing.

She was compelling and interesting, and she most definitely had his heart. Her high school experience had been so different from his, and she seemed to be much more optimistic about life than he was. Despite her calling him a realist, he believed that in comparison to her, he was a total pessimist.

She explained to him about Ito, and that he was a short-lived crush she had had at the end of her second year in high school. Akaashi was glad when she said she didn’t even talk to him anymore. Based on the way she had written about him, Akaashi thought that Ito would be the love of her life, and Akaashi was slowly realizing maybe his heart was in the process of making her the love of his life.

“When do I get the next journal?” Akaashi wanted to keep talking to her despite the lateness of the hour.

“You don’t. I told you to pace yourself, I only have one of yours so you’re only getting one of mine.” She was lying on her stomach on her bed, slightly kicking her feet while talking to Akaashi.

Akaashi groans but tells her he’ll return the journal next week when he can have another long lunch break. She says she’ll be there.

Akaashi recalls when he remembered his diary was lost.

It had been a long day at work, and he wanted nothing more than to go home. His mom hadn’t remembered his apartment address, so she sent one of his old journals to his work office. He put it into his satchel and made his way home.

On the train, there had been a slight jostling. And Akaashi hadn’t noticed the journal falling out of his bag and under his seat.

When he exited the train, she had gotten onto it. She sat down in the same seat he had. Right when Akaashi started walking to the stairs to exit the station, she reached down under the seat to stow away her bag, only to be met with a rough material. And for a moment, if they had just turned around, their eyes would’ve met right as the train pulled away.

When he finally got home, he unpacked his bag, looking to put away his journal safely into a box with other memorabilia from high school. When he dumped his bag upside down, shaking everything out, he just couldn’t find his journal. When going home from work the next day, he had asked all the employees if they had seen a leatherbound notebook. None turned up.

If there ever was a moment that could’ve changed the future, that was what it would’ve been. If the train hadn’t jostled. If Akaashi Keiji hadn’t been tired from work and forgot to check for the journal on his way out of the station. If she hadn’t sat right where he had been sitting, and most definitely, if she didn’t love a good book, then it all would’ve turned out differently.

But that’s not the story that’s being told. The story being told is of Akaashi Keiji realizing that to love someone, you have to accept that they may know you better than you know yourself.

It had been six months, and she was close to finishing the journal. Somedays she didn’t read at all, others she read three entries and wanted to binge the rest of the diary.

They went for tea every single week. Sometimes twice. Then other times, he would take her around Tokyo to go exploring. They went to every museum, every library, every cafe that specialized in tea. He figured that they ought to be on an even playing field when it came to how well they knew each other, so instead of getting more journals from her, they traded lists of their top one hundred favorite books.

She had put three Haruki Murakami books on her list and Akaashi wanted to hold her face in his hands and kiss her.

But they were just friends. Friends who knew each other better than Akaashi was comfortable with. She knew what he would order before he said it, and he knew what she was going to comment before she stated it. When she asked him about his experience with failure, he knew that she had gotten in too deep.

She knew more about him than he expected her to, she knew all about the silly things that rattled around in his brain, and although it had been a journal from high school, he knew that people stayed pretty similar throughout life. So when she looked at him, she didn’t just see professional editor Akaashi Keiji, she saw a teenager who wondered what place he had in the world as well. She saw him as acne-ridden and languid with life. He wanted to control her perspective of him and he couldn’t do that now, because she had the key to his past and the map of his future.

So he tried to put some space between them. Just in case. Maybe it was a horrible tendency to overthink, no, he knew it was his horrible overthinking tendency. There were so many ways their relationship could go. He could completely crush her, to be completely crushed himself in turn.

Walking the edge of a knife with her. Balancing on the blade of friendship, if he fell onto one side, with no cuts, then they could have a happy relationship. If he cut himself on that blade, then the worst-case scenario would be that she realizes she doesn’t like him back and then there’s just someone who knows him too well out in the world.

When he hadn’t texted her in four weeks and her messages were left on read, she decided to finish the journal and be done with it. Their time as friends was short-lived she thought. She thought there may have been something more for the pair of them. And suddenly all the depressing love songs became about him. Which made her resentful, because who ruins ‘Iris’ by The Goo Goo Dolls like that for someone? DATE: XX-XX-14 TITLE: Quatervois; A Crossroads

I graduated today. I went through that book of fancy words Mom gave me and stumbled across this one. Quatervois, a crossroads. Does this count as a crossroads?

The magazine I want to work for said I could have an internship while I attend college. An internship in the manga editing department. Was I not good enough for the literature department? Is it because of my age? I think my essay and grades were good enough to at least qualify me for a chance to interview in that department. But they only let me interview for the editing department.

Does that make me a career failure? I like the magazine, but I’m not sold on the department they want me to go into.

Washio called me to congratulate me, he said that I was finally crossing over into the real world. I’m pretty sure I’ve been living in the real world for as long as I’ve been alive, but Washio made it seem like things would be so different for me. I digress.

When nothing seems straightforward, and you come to a fork in the road and you have two options that you can’t see down, how do you choose which road to go down? The one lined with flowers, or the one with a dirt path that could eventually have something more alluring at the end.

- A.K.

On the penultimate page of the journal was a glued-down picture of Akaashi wearing his graduation suit, and holding his graduation scroll, his parents stood on either side of him grinning proudly at their only child. Maybe she should’ve checked the book from the last page and then started reading the front. But she didn’t want spoilers, that’s why she never checked the second to last page.

She texted Akaashi and said she finished the journal and was ready to return it. When he didn’t respond, but had read the message, she texted Bokuto asking for some clarification. She asked if Akaashi had said anything about her that would’ve indicated why he was mad. Bokuto just said that Akaashi wasn’t mad at all. So now she was confused. If he wasn’t upset, then why was he ignoring her?

Instead of going to their tea place, she goes to his office during lunch. She scans the buttons, looking for his department.

“Hey diary thief, whatcha doing here?” A shorter guy with shaggy black hair and a hoodie with a denim jacket over it comes around to her and presses the elevator button.

“Are you going to the Manga Editing Department?” She checked before entering the elevator with the shaggy-haired guy, who had introduced himself as Udai Tenma, but she could just call him Tenma. He confirms and then doubly checks her identity as the same person Akaashi had been talking about and spending all his lunch breaks with.

“It’s funny that you know about the journal, I came here to return it finally. Probably much to Akaashi’s delight.” She adjusts her bag across her shoulders, giving a short sigh.

“No, Akaashi loves that you have his journal. At first, he was a little annoyed, but now it’s kinda like you have a little piece of him all the time. I told him just to get you a necklace with his name on it, but noooooo Udai I can’t do that because I’d essentially be confessing if I did something like that.” Udai did a brilliant imitation of Akaashi, even going as far as to push his shoulders back to make him seem taller and with a broader build.

Udai turned slowly to face her, eyes wide and jaw dropped, “Please pretend I don’t exist, I never said anything about Akaashi’s undying love,” He froze, “Also ignore what I just said.”

Udai got out of the elevator on the floor below the editing department. She could hear him start to criticize himself and say he owes Akaashi so many more favors and solids now.

She walked through the office, lightly admiring all the manga panels, all the stories that had come out of this building astounded her, it had been a while since she last read a manga, so she considered picking one up on her way out. Maybe she’d read the one written by Udai.

Then she sees him. Akaashi, with a pencil in one hand and an eraser in the other. His head is moving slightly, due to the music playing through his headphones she assumes. He fidgets in his chair, wiggling the seat around. Despite being angry at him, he was still adorable when he was engrossed in his work.

“You’re being childish.” She handed Akaashi the journal. Akaashi had to take off his headphones when he saw that his journal was being thrust into his face, he dropped his pencil and turned around only to be met with her. Even though she seemed to be upset with him, she still looked beautiful.

Akaashi looked confused, so she clarified, “Ghosting? Really? You could have just said you didn’t want to be friends.” Her tone is sharp and penetrating.

It wasn’t the being friends part, it was the part where he wanted her to be entirely his. An overwhelming desire to attach her to him in all senses. He swallows and takes the journal back. He wants to ask what her thoughts were, and what she came to understand about him. Yet, he knew she was upset with him. He would be upset with her too if she did what he had done.

He had completely blown his chance, hadn’t he? The one woman who had read the teenage journal and still wanted to be friends. Maybe her knowing more about him wouldn’t be too bad at all, maybe that’s exactly what he needed.

“I don’t want to be friends.” She starts to sniffle, she quickly runs the sleeve of her shirt onto her eyes. Akaashi rushed the next part out, “I can’t be just friends with you I’m afraid. I think I want more.”

She blinks rapidly before regaining composure and putting her hand on his shoulder. “I think you need to sort out your feelings. Because if you really wanted more, you wouldn’t have treated me like I was disposable. You wouldn’t have ignored me. So, figure it out, and let me know what the result is. You know where to find me.”

She rubs her thumb on his cheek in a parting gesture. He remembers when she did that for the first time, around three months ago. They were at a library he had found in a far corner of Tokyo, and he was talking about a book that Udai hadn’t understood at all, which made him irate that Udai could skim over such an important story. They were in their little section, with dim lights and a stack of books they wanted to talk about.

As he was waving his hands around, trying to show her the pages and lines he was referencing in the book, when she reached over and brushed her thumb against his cheek, the rest of her fingers resting along his jaw and lower cheek. Her palm barely contacts his chin.

“You had a little mark there. But I think it’s just a cute little freckle, it won’t wipe off.” She brushes against his skin again, and when the mark doesn’t disappear, she leans back into her chair, waiting for Akaashi to begin again. When he starts talking again about the book, he keeps stumbling and stuttering over his words.

She gave a small wave before leaving his office space. Akaashi's co-workers just turned their heads to watch her exit, heads sticking out of cubicles, and then in a blink, they all turned to face Akaashi with disappointed faces, shaking their heads and clicking their tongues. Then, they went back to work and Akaashi was sitting at his desk with his journal brazenly staring at him.

He had one chance to make it right. So he set aside Udai’s manga draft, knowing he could go through it in less than an hour, and he picked up his pencil, writing one more entry in his journal.

He can only wait a week before giving it to her when he shows up to her apartment unannounced. Miwa opens the door and rolls her eyes, but letting him in.

“I gotta run and get some new specialty scissors. I’m not afraid to use them in an unintended use if I get back and she’s crying.” Miwa motions her fingers from her eyes to his. Akaashi gives her a thumbs up.

When she comes out of her room, she inspects him on the couch, he’s holding his journal.

“Read the last page for me. It’s an extended edition.” He jokes somewhat. She sits next to him and reads his ‘extended edition’. DATE: XX-XX-XX TITLE: Micawber; An Eternal Optimist

I was stupid. Believe me, I know I was a whole idiot and a half.

Here’s to giving up realism and embracing optimism.

You knew who I was before I knew you. I was scared that you would know too much. That’s hilarious, right? I wanted you to know me, and yet there I was completely afraid to let you get too close, but you were already close. It’s not just what words were contained here, although I re-read my journal and there are definitely some things I should’ve self-censored.

You were what made the entire difference. Your ability to perceive me as a whole rather than a sum of my parts was the distinction that was made.

With you, I truly am a protagonist. Not a side character anymore, but the main character who shares the limelight with his love interest. Although, I have a distinct feeling that you may be more of a main character than me. But, I know you’d say you digress.

In your journal, you mentioned once how you believed that a good story can compel you to be changed. How characters drive a real tangible change in a person. Did I do that for you? At least a little bit? I know I was changed when I read your story, I realized that maybe I liked you a little more than just liking you.

Please don’t think I am mean. I was cruel, rude, and inconsiderate to you. Ghosting for more than a month because I was worried is likely going down in my personal history as the worst thing I’ve ever done to you. But I’m dedicated to never doing anything bad to you ever again. I’ll never hurt you, and I’ll never lie.

I’m optimistic that you like me a little. Maybe even a little more than like.

So, tell me why I still feel worried. Is this feeling even worried? Or is this what love feels like? The desperation to not hurt you in any way. The pang of knowing that I am myself with you. And, yes, the physical magnetism that makes me feel just a little more like a teenager when I am with you.

I think this feeling is love. I just think it’s so overwhelming that I ended up making it into a negative emotion instead of what it is.

I’m sorry. Forgive me or I really won’t know what to do with all these feelings that flit around in my heart for you.

I love you.

- Yours, Akaashi Keiji

She knew he was watching her. She had her nose in his journal, reading what he had written for her.

“Can you get me a tissue?” Akaashi handed her one. He was ready to say his goodbyes.

When she closes the journal, he looks at her with curious eyes. She smiles.

“Best book ever.”

He grabs her by the back of her head and kisses her. She held his face in her hands, tilting her head slightly and he hummed into her mouth. His nose was cold on her face, but the warmth of his mouth contrasted with the frostiness. His other hand grips her hip, trying to pull her closer to him. Despite them being already so close, he wanted her to envelop him.

Then he was pressing her down onto her couch, both hands on her hips. When she wrapped a leg around his waist he thought his heart was going to jump out of his chest. Her head was on the arm of the couch, and he had moved from her mouth to the side of her face to her neck, to right above her bra, leaving a trail of his making. He was glad she was wearing a low-cut top because it made it easier for him to pull the shirt down so he could reach more of her skin.

In contrast to him, she felt soft and pliable. She also felt wholly his in this moment.

Her hands were in his hair, pulling the strands in a mellow methodology, not wanting to hurt him almost. She wanted his hair just a little longer, but the short hair tickled her neck, so she was happy with the length it was currently.

The top of her chest was creamy and supple. He let his tongue brush out once, twice, before going back up to kiss her again. He licked at her bottom lip, and she opened her mouth just enough for him to run his tongue into it for a moment, before biting at her bottom lip in thanks.

“You taste like sugar.” He was hot in the face and had some hair sticking to his forehead. She pushed his bangs back tenderly, his chest was still rapidly moving up and down trying to catch his breath. He went in for another kiss, still short of breath, so she had to intervene.

“Slow down loverboy, you need to breathe, or else you can’t keep going.” She laughs a little and he can feel the way her body carries the laugh from her chest to her stomach. She moves in close to his ear, “And that would be a zero-sum game for us both.”

He nods, and she draws his head down to rest on her chest.

“Is this better or worse than that fantasy you had about making out with a girl in the backseat of a car?” She recalls one of his entries from his journal.

He rubs his face against her, inhaling deeply. “This is way better. But we’re still gonna kiss in the back of my jeep, and soon at that.”

She hums a little in response.

The next year, Akaashi and her moved in together, Miwa was glad because now she could finally walk around her apartment without clothes on (despite her doing that when they were roommates anyway). Bokuto was glad to see that Akaashi finally had someone to read his confusing books and that he didn’t have to read another one ever again. Udai would occasionally make a joke about if it didn’t work out with Akaashi she had a place in his awaiting arms. Akaashi threatened to work for another manga magazine and Udai would be stuck using only Grammarly. That usually shut Udai up pretty quickly.

They both kept detailed journals. And when they finished them, they would let the other read them. Akaashi let her read all his past journals as well, and she let him read her diaries.

Maybe love isn’t what you expected at first, maybe it's not even a feeling you want to feel at that moment, or for that person. But love works out for the best in the end. Whether that’s with a best friend, a lover, a child, or even a book.

For Akaashi Keiji, love meant letting someone know him better than he knew himself. It also meant being okay with letting her read his diary.

[maknaesdancersrappers]

devoted 2.

part 17.

SNEAK PEEK

A/N: the deadline was supposed to be today but there's just too much going on, so as my birthday treat to you guys, here's a cute lil excerpt from the next part!!

“Let’s go.”

You’ve walked beside Jaehyun multiple times already but this time you’re walking hand in hand with him — and he’s even swaying your conjoined hands! You were screaming inside at how cute he was to do this. He gave off such a cool vibe that you didn’t think he had such an adorable side.

Autumn has started and the weather was perfect to be outside, the leaves were turning to beautiful shades of reds, oranges, and yellows. It was nice to take a stroll under them right now and it feels quite cozy, especially with Jaehyun.

He filled up the silence growing between you, not that it bothered you, with small talk. He asked about your morning and the day before, if you had any plans for the holiday break. You told him that you were going back home to your parents over the holidays and was unsure if your parents had plans to celebrate.

You could feel his thumb gently smooth over your skin as he talked about his plans over the break, mentioning how he’s going to be helping out his dad in his business.

The cafe you both arrived at was smack dab in between a bookstore and a mom-and-pop store. There were little to no patrons in the cafe from the looks of it and it still had some streamers and balloons from their opening.

“Good morning! Welcome to Cafe Hue.” One of the three workers on duty, the cashier, greeted as you entered.

You offered a smile and glanced briefly at the interior — a habit you picked up in middle school that pushed you into taking interior design. For its namesake, the overall interior was a crisp white with loud, brightly colored decors dotting the shelves. There was room for improvement with the choice of furniture, but it still works.

“What would you like?” Jaehyun asked, pulling you out of your reverie by softly squeezing your hand.

You looked up at the chalkboard menu, giving each item a thought until you settled on a hot cup of French vanilla tea. Jaehyun relayed your order to the cashier, who’s eyes seemed very eager to meet his gaze, and added his own order of an iced americano.

“Do you want anything to eat? We can share something if you’d like.”

“I don’t mind a slice of cake or muffin.”

Jaehyun bobbed his head, “Anything in particular?”

“What would you recommend?” You directed the question to the cashier giving heart eyes up at Jaehyun. She shifted her attention to you, a full second of annoyance flashing in her face before plastering a model customer service smile.

“Everything is freshly baked, our baker’s favorite is the basque cheesecake, but personally, I love the chocolate carrot cake.”

“Both sound good, so I’ll leave the choice up to you.”

The cashier’s smile brightened as she returned her attention to Jaehyun, who seemed oblivious to it.

“Then a slice of each.” He didn't wait for her to tally the order and pulled out his wallet, brandishing a black card from within and placing it on the counter. She seemed astonished to see the card in front of her, but it only took a second for her to punch your orders in while repeating it out loud to confirm. Jaehyun nodded and she swiped the card.

“Have you always been a tea person? I could have gotten you tea instead of coffee all this time at the library.” He inquired, pursing his lips ever so slightly at you.

“Not necessarily.” You shrugged your shoulders, “My mind has strongly associated coffee with productivity and since we’re not here to study, I’d rather have tea. I like both, equally.”

Jaehyun finished paying for the order and guided you to a seat by the window. He helped you into your seat briefly before seating himself.

There was a palpable pause when he looked at you and it almost became awkward until he coughed and glanced away, ears visibly red.

“I’m sorry,” He cleared his throat, “I’ve never really… taken anyone out on a date before.”

The admission made your brows shoot up a little, “What? You’ve never dated anyone?”

He shook his head, “No. Wasn’t really interested… until I met you.”

The confession made your heart skip a beat and the faintest heat rose up your cheeks. “Oh. Uhm,” You stuttered, “I… I didn’t expect that from you.”

He sighed, “I get that a lot — not to be vain or anything. I was just never interested in the dating scene.”

“Haven’t girls asked you out? None of them caught your eye?”

Jaehyun shook his head again. “They all seemed… pretentious? No, too eager? Like I’m prey or something.”

You’re still having a hard time believing that this gorgeous man has not dated at all — let alone having you as the first person he’s ever expressed interest in. “What makes me different?”

Slowly, a small smile formed on his lips, “That’s what I’d like to know.”

a/n: there's too much technical stuff in the next part, that's why i'm having a hard time writing, but!!! it's coming i swear pls dont give up on me im sorry for such the long wait (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)

devoted masterlist.

[s1aywalker]

꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ just fake it through the day and the night is your god. ꨄ

↷ ✩ —— video store clerk sam monroe headcanons. (sfw)

warnings: brief mention of weed, profane language (sorry i can't help it).

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who is admittedly terrible at his job. he lives by the philosophy of the customer is always wrong. but what he lacks in customer service skills, he makes up for in love of movies... especially horror.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who gets fired from the store what seems like every other week. whether it's because his drawer was suspiciously short, because he didn't show up, or because too many customers have called complaining about his poor attitude and how he smells like a skunk.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who rolls out of bed in the late afternoon to show up for his closing shift ten minutes late with his boots unlaced, still wearing his smeared eyeliner from the night before.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who soccer moms can't stand because he always has some splatter gore flick playing on the display television behind the counter. the snot nosed kids hug mommy's legs and hide their face in her back while they're checking out. meanwhile, she's shooting sam death glares and he seems oblivious. when really, he just doesn't give a fuck. she goes home with her bambi and spy kids tapes, and immediately makes a phone call to his manager... another tally on his shit list.

"all those bitchy moms are lucky," he mumbles to you while his fingers absentmindedly toy with the silver labret stabbed through his skin. but there's something playful, amused tugging crookedly on his lips as his gaze remains focused on the flickering television, while screams of terror crackled from speakers. "this isn't shit. if i wanted to traumatize their little brats, i'd put on maniac... i left my nametag at home, anyway." but, of course, it isn't difficult for the higher ups to piece together the puzzle.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who thinks it's fucking hilarious to recommend the worst selections imaginable to customers that won't know what hit 'em. another reason for him to be fired, honestly. he sees a teen lingering a little too long in the horror section and when they ask for something that'll scare their friends this weekend... according to his manager, faces of death was not the correct answer.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe whose favorite customer is you.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who always makes it a point to come out from behind his throne that is the checkout counter every time you come in. he wants to bug you, to breathe down your neck to see what you're going to rent because he's nosey and too impatient to find out what it'll be whenever you decide to bring your handful of selections to the front. and he wants to throw out his own recommendations, too, while he straightens out a nearby shelf.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who can go on for hours about movies when he's talking to you. he's very strongly opinionated... to a fault, honestly. because he won't bite his tongue when you examine a tape he's seen and didn't like, or when you bring up enjoying some new horror flick that, in his mind, has nothing compared to a good gory classic. he'll argue with you on it, and remain firm on his stance, with a mouth that seems and sounds mean, but it's never really directed towards you.

"the grudge fucking sucked, don't you dare get that." he snorted, snatching the new release out of your hands with more aggression than necessary. it's shoved back into its slot as he begins scanning over the neatly organized shelf labeled horror, a black painted nail dragging along spines for something specific. "they americanized it for no goddamn reason... here." the search was over as he pulled out the haunting japanese cover of ju-on. "watch the original... and call me if you piss your pants."

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who only pretends to be annoyed when you come in ten til close with no reason other than to keep him company during the deserted hour. he says you should have just called him to hang after he clocked out, but really, he's glad you're there, because he's seen the movie he has on at least six times.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who stands behind the counter while you're propped up on the surface during a lull, security cameras be damned. he was supposed to have mopped the bathroom and locked the doors by now... but mouths keep running and laughter becomes louder than the shitty movie that has now been forgotten and reduced to background noise with a chilling soundtrack.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who is inching closer to your perched position and closing the gap with a bag of sour gummy worms in his hands that he says the store won't notice missing. the plastic corner is ripped open with his teeth to share and it's a bribe, a ploy to get you to stay longer.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who finally convinces you to rent the evil dead trilogy. it's one of his favorites, and of course he's going to suggest you make a marathon out of it, with him tagging along for the blood soaked journey. he promises to bring your favorite candies and the popcorn with extra butter, and he promises to not talk through them... but he accidentally grabs the regular popcorn instead, and he can't help but go on and on about every single fun fact about the series that pops into his head while he gradually scoots closer.

[junicult]

contains ; established relationship. sfw & fluff. one brief suggestive part. pretty much just a blurb. another excuse for me to talk about harvey (bc he’s the only one plaguing my mind) (like usual). more under the cut.

harvey’s favorite days are your anniversary.

he’s the kind of man that tallies up every single anniversary in his head, from your first kiss, all the way to your wedding day. he remembers the ones that seem insignificant, the ones he’d only silently celebrate because they’re so specific you wouldn’t even remember them.

he remembers things like the day he realized he was in love with you. and when it reaches one year since, he’s a little extra smitten. he remembers the day you slept together for the first time, it’s a sweet memory that you both continue to celebrate. he remembers when you both said i love you, one of his favorite anniversaries to wake up to, reminding him of how nervous he was years ago and how easily it is to tell you now.

he likes to reminisce on your milestones, each day there’s a new one he wakes up a little happier, and impossibly more affectionate.

on your first kiss anniversary, still only boyfriend and girlfriend, he doesn’t mention it—but he’s thinking about it all day. he wakes up, you’re awake by his side but cranky from the alarm sounding your room. he looks at you, and the scowl on your face that only makes him smile. his heart still flutters—and all he can think about is that one year ago you were only just a crush.

“good morning, beautiful.” he says sweetly, and you chuckle next to him, rubbing your eye. he leans in for a kiss like he always does, but it feels so different. he’s kissed you more times then he can count at this point, yet one year ago he’d start sweating at the thought of just one.

it’s not until the evening, several kisses throughout the day later, when you’re sitting at home. limbs are sore from a hard day, your eyes low and tired, you lean against your hand and look at him from the kitchen table. “y’know, this might sound crazy; but we shared our first kiss one year ago today.”

he stiffens, eyes widening only slightly. he’s been kissing you all day like he did the first time, only reminding himself of it by each—having no clue you were thinking the same. he smiles, and when he turns around he just nods, “i remember.”

the anniversary of the first time you slept together remains the same, except this time, he knows you remember. he wasn’t able to spend the night before, because you spent all the way up until midnight working as hard as you could to clear out a chunk of the day.

“hey, handsome.” you giggle, walking into the clinic, and he visibly relaxes at the sight of you. you lean over the counter, him following suit to plant a soft, but passionate kiss against your lips that last a little longer then the usual when you come in. one of those kisses that linger even after your lips disconnect.

“i should be finished at four, i’ll head over as soon as i can.” he says, his head tilted to the side a little, trying his best to ignore the way your fingers play with the end of his tie.

and he follows through with his word, tiding himself up at home before he makes his way over and cooks you a nice dinner. he’s a gentleman, showing you nothing but love when he cups your cheek to pull you in. even when you drag him to your room, celebrating the very same thing that happened one year prior.

when you asked him to be your boyfriend still remains one of his favorites—if he had to rank them. it’s one of the anniversaries that started off with him being oblivious, and you sweating bullets.

you were the one who held the bouquet, face hot and palms sweaty while you agonizingly waited for an answer. it’s one of those days that he could hear you talk about forever, how nervous you were and how you were feeling.

that morning he needed to wake up by your side, so he didn’t have to waste a single second before kissing you, mumbling a near incoherent good morning because he just doesn’t want to pull away. it’s been many years since he’s felt this light, and to be honest—he’s never felt it this much.

it’s a day where he’s constantly being asked, “what’s got you so happy?” by anyone near. he stands a little straighter, he’s so much sweeter, smiling as his cheeks continue to ache. it’s an anniversary he celebrates even after you’re married, because it was the first official day he became yours for the rest of your lives.

when he said i love you for the first time—it was weeks, nearly months after he had the revelation on his own. and those weeks he spent everyday with it on the tip of his tongue, but he just couldn’t do it. he couldn’t stand the thought of his feelings being unreciprocated.

when he did realize he loved you was his own special day, one of the ones he doesn’t share but he silently celebrates when he’s with you. it was an anniversary he felt shy to bring up with you—yet gushed when you remembered it as well.

by now, you know the way his mind works. you know he remembers the smallest things, things that seem insignificant to a third party, yet mean everything to the both of you. so when you whisper a loving, full, “i love you,” before you step out for work that morning, he knows you’re saying it exactly how you did the first time.

he doesn’t waste any time saying it back. tacking it as a sappy, “i love you more,” to watch your eyelids squint and your lips press together in faux annoyance. and thus he grins back—because he means it—but it only starts the one-upping game that takes place for the entirety of the day.

and now, his real favorite. a day he had marked on the calendar, a day he’s longed since he first knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you—your wedding anniversary.

it’s easily the most important day. well, aside from your actual wedding. but this day was different, because you are his wife, and you have been his wife for an entire year.

and even years later, when you approach two, five, ten. there’s so many more ahead of you, yet each and every single one makes harvey feel exactly how he did the minute he was standing at the alter, standing with tears in his eyes at just the mere idea of seeing you walk down the isle.

and he celebrates it like it’s still the most important day of his life.

[satansaidnottoday]

When you get sick

Based on the Uno reverse Beel pulled in the last post.

Info: Human AU, GN!Mc.

Summary: You've got the cold and now your boyfriend must take care of you.

Warnings: general talk of sickness.

Lucifer

Has "do what I say, not what I do" energy. 

He urges you to take time off and rest. Says it's very important to relax for a timely recovery. Be sure to remember his exact words for the next time he is sick.

Will try to get out of work earlier so he can take care of you. He calls you throughout the day to see how you're doing and if you need anything. If you're in a really bad condition, he will take time off to take care of you.

He can't cook, but will order any foods you like. 

He will cuddle you if you ask, but won't offer on his own. He is a little scared of it being contagious. 

When you feel better, he won't expect anything from you but will accept any gestures of gratitude you give him.

Mammon

Whiny.

Thinks you're going to die.

You have to reassure him that it's just a cold every thirty minutes. I will try to get you to the hospital anyway.

He is completely at your service from day one. Do not dare move a muscle; the great Mammon has everything covered for you.

You have a fresh supply of hot tea always by your side. He makes sure you get all of your meals. He keeps a tally of every medicine you need to take. You basically have a personal nurse.

Lots of cuddles and massages.

If you're trembling at all because of the fever, he will hold you as if you were having a seizure.

He cries a lot when you're in pain, probably more than you.

When you're feeling better, he will expect at the very least a thank-you gift. A shopping spree would be preferable.

Leviathan

He doesn't know what to do.

Finds everything to be too overwhelming. He is really worried about you and wants to help, but he has no idea how to take care of a sick person. So, of course, he goes back to the person who used to take care of him when he was sick. Mammon.

He tries his hardest to be just as supportive, but it doesn't go well. The tea is always too hot or too cold, he only knows how to make ramen, and he keeps forgetting about the ibuprofen!

In the end, the best he can do for you is bring you more tissue boxes and lay down by your side while you watch movies. You reassure him that this is more than enough, but he still feels a little guilty.

When you feel better, make a great spectacle about how helpful he was. He did miss a butch of seasonal releases just to stay with you.

Satan

He will insist you take time off the moment symptoms start to show.

Shows up at your house with a butch of medicinal herbs. Mint to open up your nose, lavender to help with the headache, cardamom for... Something? He knows it had some healing property, but seems to have forgotten. He makes you some soup with it just in case it was important.

Won't go near you, even if you ask. Most he'd do is help you get around if your muscles are aching.

He will tell you about his latest read and how it made him feel. If you have read it, he will ask you to compare notes. Just trying to keep you entertained any way he can.

He brings all of his favorite tea blends for you to try out.

He won't expect anything in return for his care. He loves you, and that's just what you do for the people you love.

Asmodeus

Whiny 2.0

"My poor, beautiful thing."

He might not know a lot about caring for the sick, but he knows a lot about self-care. You will still have a runny nose, but your skin will shine, baby. 

He will pamper you. Have all of the blankets. Sleep for as long as you want. Ask for any food, and he will get it for you. With unlimited snacks, you can even have his favorite chocolates. He will watch all of your comfort shows and movies with you.

Baths, many baths. They are really good when you're sick; they relax your muscles and help the bad energies leave the body.

As soon as you're feeling good, it's his turn to be pampered! So better be prepared.

Beelzebub

If nothing else, you're well fed.

All healthy meals, he won't let you indulge in sweets. Your body needs protein and veggies right now, and he will have them for you at every meal. 

Will cut fruit for you as snack.

Pushes you to do some light exercises when you can. Sweat out the sickness.

He is very supportive, constantly telling you you're going to be okay. He will stay by your side every single minute.

He will carry you around if your muscles are sore.

When you're feeling better, he will make you desert. For the days he has you surviving on steamed broccoli and rice.

Belphegor

This is actually great news.

He gets to cuddle with you all day, and you won't be able to escape. He can even use you as an excuse to take a day off. No work, no school, just napping with his favorite person. Every day should be like that.

If only you didn't have to be sick for it to happen. 

He doesn't know much about taking care of someone. Being the youngest one, everyone else always took care of him. But he doesn't like seeing you hurt, so he will try his best.

The best medicine he can offer you is a good nap in his arms, but he will try some of Satan's medicinal teas. If needed, he will get Lucifer to drive him to the pharmacy. 

He doesn't know a thing about eating healthy, so you will get a diet of chips, pastries, and candy.

If you manage to get better, he will whine about not having your full attention anymore.

Thanks for reading!

[everythingisawayoflife]

one direction has been in the news as of late and on my mind (and on repeat) so i’m taking it upon myself to combine my two interests and describing what kind of directioner each batfam member is. this is for pure shits and giggles and not really based on canon, im going off pure vibes and spite.

dick - dick is NOT ashamed of his love for one direction and works out to them frequently. he’s definitely a harry fan and his favorite era of harry looks is prince hair but also long hair bc mulletwing, duh. his favorite album is midnight memories and favorite song is happily. he def saw them and 5sos in concert and remembers exactly where he was when zayn announced he was leaving the group.

jason - jason only knows so much one direction cause dick blares it in the cave when they’re working out. jason fucks with zayn and louis so hard and believes their 2014 VMAs look is top tier (which, valid). jason let himself listen to Midnight Memories, cause he appreciated the aesthetic of the album, his favorite song is the title track, Midnight Memories. to spite dick, however, he will bump The Wanted, since dick was there to witness the 1D vs. The Wanted beef.

tim - tim wasn’t a directioner but he did stumble on the adventurous adventures of one direction as a kid and may or may not know all the words to that iconic first episode, so he knows a decent chunk of lore. he also scrolls through l*rry forums when he’s bored and enjoys poking holes in their logic (tim has fought babygaters and come out on top). tim does not have a favorite album but he does enjoy their cover of one way or another/teenage kicks that they did for red nose day as well as teenage dirtbag. tim also does not have a favorite member but if he had to pick, gun to his head, he’d probably say louis.

steph - do not cite the deep magic (best song ever music video intro) to stephanie, she was there when it was written. steph is a diehard directioner. she watched the icarly episode where they guest starred when carly gave harry jungle worms. stephanie read the one direction imagines, wrote and read one direction x y/n fanfiction, she breathed these boys and would give a kidney to one of them if asked. steph loves their whole discography but i find her being very partial to their fetus era, so take me home i think is her fave, and her fave song is heart attack, that went platinum in her bedroom. steph swore she was gonna marry zayn with that cinnamon curl in his hair and a little part of her still thinks she will.

damian - this baby tried so hard not to let the 1D bug bite him but made in the AM came on a playlist dick had made for him and he was a goner. damian outwardly craps on them but when he’s alone, he listens to FOUR and MITAM, exclusively. he doesn’t think he could take them seriously as musicians if he listened to anything before then. damian likes liam bc when he tallied it up, liam had written the most of his favorite songs (i actually did this the other day, liam and louis wrote 23 of the songs on my fave 1D songs playlist) and liam is the “leader” of the group. damian really loves “if i could fly” and has even printed sheet music to learn to play it on piano.

duke - for duke, one direction has put out what he likes to call “certified hood classics”. he was familiar with their mainstream pop hits and has maybe even pretended to be a bigger fan to impress girls but he did geniunely become a bigger fan when he moved into the manor. like jason, duke fucks with zayn so hard and midnight memories is the shit for him. he enjoys “don’t forget where you belong” but his favorite mainstream hit is “kiss you”.

cass - stephanie introduced cass to one direction and while cass isn’t as obessesed with them as steph, she really does love FOUR. “once in a lifetime” is so calming for her. she finds a lot of the songs on FOUR are good for working out, dancing, etc. she also loves a lot of zayns solo work. niall is her favorite tho cause of his kind face.

bruce - in an attempt to get closer to his kids, he tried listening to their music and honestly did not see the appeal until like halfway through FOUR. steph once showed him a photo in their fetus eras and asked him hypothetically which one he’d let her and/or cass date if the opportunity ever arose itself. he said they all looked very nice. then she showed him a photo of them during the FOUR era, all tatted up, and asked again. he said either harry or niall. bruce’s favorite song is fool’s gold. steph makes an offhand comment about wanting to do everything in her power to get the band back together and bruce takes her very literally and starts attempting to make phone calls. the whole family puts a (reluctant) stop to it before bruce breaks twitter.

barbara - before she became oracle, babs was on the team of directioners who hacked security cameras to watch them at the airport, it was sort of her first foray into computer skills. she has locked that part of her deep in her soul but without it, she wouldn’t be as proficient as she is now. barbara has loved louis as long as shes been familiar with 1D and loves how sassy he is. her favorite song is “i want to write you a song” and her favorite album is MITAM.