#i’m nothing without projecting on side characters

[kevinsdsy]

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the trojans social media au (pt. 10): one of the reasons i made this au was to push my nabil mahmoud lore to the world AND TODAY IS THE DAY ‼️ i’ve forced dealing with your sexuality + religion lore onto nabil and since nora didt specifically confirm laila NOT being muslim i have her be his support system through shared experiences :))) including nabil living w them for a month (which is why jean actually likes him in this au) and jean being a support system through making food because i feel like cat would have told jean about how food & cooking can be such a support system for others

[crushpunky]

drew and actress!reader argue about their next steps

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

this is a combination of a few asks and takes place pre-OBX season 3. warning for some angst + arguing

Y/n ended her call with her manager Morgan with a sigh. It was a conversation she had been dreading, but she also knew was inevitable with the direction her career (and character on OBX) was moving. She had been dropping hints to Drew that her contract with OBX was ending, that she wanted to move onto some different projects, Caroline’s character arc was coming to a close…

“Hey, baby.” Drew smiled as y/n walked into their living room. He was sprawled out on the couch, his limbs propped on the ottoman and Charleston curled up at his side. Y/n smiled lightly at him, the grin not quite reaching her eyes in a way that made Drew’s brain sound off with bells and whistles.

“Um, I just got off the phone with Morgan,” y/n said quietly, Drew leaning in intently as she spoke, “and I don’t think I’m going to be renewing my contract for OBX.”

Drew’s face dropped, his eyes blinking rapidly as he stared at her in a stunned silence.

“W–what?” Drew said incredulously. Y/n sighed, running a shaking hand through her hair. Whether or not either of them cared to admit it, Outer Banks and shooting together was a big aspect of their relationship. Hell, it was how they met and how they spent months of the year practically inseparable on set.

“I– I just…” y/n swallowed harshly, “I want to try new things and I don’t want to feel tied down to—”

“‘Tied down’? Is that really how you feel?” Drew scoffed, shaking his head at her words.

“Drew, you know I don’t mean it like that.” Y/n sighed, her hand resting on Drew’s tensed shoulder.

“What do you mean, then?” Drew said. “‘Cause I’m trying to understand and it just sounds like you think the show’s a burden and—”

“I didn’t say that.” Y/n said sharply. “I love the show and working with the cast— and working with you— but I just… it’s time for me to move on.”

“But I’m still stuck on this— what, this shitty, teenaged Netflix show? I can’t move on?” Drew shook his head. It was hard to not take it so personally when the show had given them so much, and for her to just leave like that… it hurt.

“This has nothing to do with how I think of you or your acting or career. You know you’re… a lot more important to the show than I am and you have a much more challenging role and—” y/n ran hand down her face with a sigh, “—this is 100% only to do with me and my career and my future.”

“But what about our future?” Drew said. “I just… don’t you think this is going to change things between us?”

“But it doesn’t have to. It doesn’t have to change anything.” Y/n said, taking Drew’s hand. His eyes closed, Drew ran his hand through his hair with a deep sigh.

“This is… this is really what you want?” Drew whispered, his thumb brushing along the back of y/n’s hand lightly.

“I think it’s the right step.” Y/n said quietly. Drew chewed on his bottom lip, mulling over his racing thoughts and questions before his gaze finally lifted to meet y/n’s. She could see a glint of sadness in his eyes, a recognition that the unique bond of the show would be changing.

“I don’t want you to think I didn’t think about us when I was making this decision.” Y/n whispered, squeezing Drew’s hand lightly. Drew nodded, squeezing her hand back.

“If this is what you think is best, then I support you.” Drew said. Y/n let out a sigh of relief, cupping the side of Drew’s face as she pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel forgotten or—” Y/n began, but Drew cut her off, kissing her forehead chastely.

“I’m sorry for freaking out, it's just… I can’t imagine the show without you and it just scared me to think about it.” Drew said lowly. Y/n frowned, to which Drew shook his head, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her against his chest. Her arms snaked around his torso, feeling the ridges of his muscles under her fingertips and hearing the thrum of his heart in her ear.

“We’ll figure it out, ok? I love you and we’ll figure it out.” Drew said simply. Y/n, squeeze him tighter.

“I love you. Thank you for supporting me, Drew. Really.” Y/n whispered.

[cripplecharacters]

Hi! I’m working on an original character project that I want to include a lot of casual representation in (“casual” meaning that the characters don’t need a justification for being disabled/fat/POC/etc, they just are because people can and do exist that way in reality!)

I was wondering if you had any suggestions for finding resources for drawing facial differences(and maybe other visible disabilities), especially in a cartoony style. I’ve looked through the Facial Equality Week tag but would like to see more examples, and since my art is so… goofy, for lack of a better word, I would love any help I can get in integrating differences without being offensive or upsetting.

Sorry if this is a bother, and thank you for all that you do!

Hey!

I'm not aware of any guides for drawing facial differences specifically (or at least, good ones. There's 1 billion tutorials telling you that scars are just a Singular Line, always, but that's not... correct), but perhaps someone in the notes could help out?

For my own advice, you could check out this old post I made. Because you mentioned your art being cartoony, I would specifically urge you to not overexaggerate facial differences the way they often are. A prime example would be how a lot of cartoons portray strabismus;

It's just a funny gag to them rather than, IDK, how some of us look like. Not to mention that one of these is also a mockery of intellectually/developmentally disabled people with "Derp" in the name, but that's beside the point here.

It's the whole "the character is crazy/stupid/wild/whatever and that's why they have it" that's the problem with how it's often shown. You can also see it in how characters who don't even normally have it will be shown with it for a scene where they're saying something nonsensical, etc.

Another example that's nowhere near as rampant is the split-face thing with various facial differences being used. Mostly vitiligo but sometimes also facial palsy. I'm talking about this weirdly perfectly halved face that looks extremely different on each side, often used to imply that a character is two-faced but mostly just signals that the author doesn't know how vitiligo looks like.

[note: vitiligo also shows up on lighter skin. I wanted to make sure it's visible here for tutorial clarity purposes.]

This one is just weird because it straight up doesn't look like that. I have no idea where it came from, but it should go back there. Facial palsy doesn't make someone look like the antique comedy/tragedy theater mask.

Unless I'm forgetting some other annoying cartoon trope, these would be the big ones that you should stay away from.

Outside of that, it's really on a case by case basis on how a specific FD should be drawn because they're so different. A birthmark can just be a differently colored patch of skin, but a craniofacial difference would require some more changes to be included. Alopecia is well, lack of hair, and can be done very easily but ectrodactyly can be more complicated to show properly because of the limitations of a cartoony artstyle when it comes to hands. And while I do think it would be great to see more of those facial differences that tend to not be included in art at all, there's nothing wrong with deciding to go for the things you can represent more faithfully, especially if you're just starting.

I will say that if you're making an honest attempt at being respectful and trying to get it right, most of us will still be excited to see your work. Even if it's not perfect or has some inaccuracies. I will take a "'yeah more or less' correct with a happy, human character" over a "Very Technically correct but tagged as #tw burns and with blood splattered on them" any day.

Lastly, I wanted to share some art featuring characters with facial differences (and other visible disabilities) that are done in a cartoony, or at least somewhat simplistic artstyles (I'm using both terms very widely here) - maybe it will give you some ideas.

Man with Treacher Collins syndrome (also one of the first pieces online where I saw a character with an FD portrayed in such a lovely way. A fav of mine.) Girl with Pfeiffer syndrome Too many characters to count Woman with burns Woman with a limb difference Multiple characters again Animation featuring people with Down syndrome [youtube] Multiple characters, including a girl with neurofibromatosis, a burn survivor, a girl with a cleft lip and another with TCS [twitter]

If you have a more specific art question ("how do I draw a person with XYZ facial difference?") you can send me an ask on @saszor. I prefer to stick to the writing theme on this blog but would still like to help if you need it.

Hope this helps,

mod Sasza

Edit: apologies for the lack of alt text on one of the images, it has been fixed.

[lmvari]

Petty Compensation

prompt. you accidentally take the wrong drink order, and the actual owner demands a sip as compensation

characters. scaramouche / wanderer x gn!reader

tags. modern au, attempt at humor

warnings. none

You don’t notice your mistake at first.

The cafe is busy, and you're distracted. Probably by the group of students arguing over a project in the corner or the fact that you only got four hours of sleep last night. Either way, you hear your name being called, or at least, you think it was yours.

Without giving it much thought, you grab the cup from the counter, take a sip, and wince at the unexpected bitterness. Still, you don’t question it and head back to your seat like nothing’s wrong. The cafe is packed and the staff seem overwhelmed that the barista doesn’t even notice who took the drink.

It’s not until someone clears their throat in front of you that you realize something might be off.

“That’s mine.”

You glance up, only to be met with sharp indigo eyes staring you down. The guy in front of you has striking deep blue hair, sharp jawline, and an expression that somehow manages to be both bored and vaguely irritated at the same time. He gestures toward the cup in your hand. “You took my drink.”

You blink at him, then at the cup. Then at him again.

Oh.

In your defense, it looks like your order. You squint at the scribbled name on the side, and sure enough, it’s not yours.

Kunikusushi, it says.

Either his parents had a grudge against him, or the barista completely butchered the spelling.

Still, regardless of how his name is written on the cup, one thing is clear. You already drank from it, which means—

“Oops?” you offer sheepishly.

His brow twitches. “Oops?”

“order for [name]!” the barista calls out.

You glance toward the counter, where another identical cup sits unattended. Your actual order.

You stand up to take it from the counter and offer it to the stranger. His intense stare burns into you the entire time. Shifting under the weight of it, you clear your throat. “Um, sorry. You can take mine instead?”

He looks unimpressed, eyeing the cup with clear disapproval. “My drink is made exactly how I like it. And you’ve contaminated it. I’d take it back but what if you have some kind of disease?”

“I don’t,” you deadpan.

He shrugs. “Can’t be sure.”

“Are you serious?”

He exhales through his nose, gaze flicking to the cup in your hands. “Fine,” he says, holding out a hand. “Give it here.”

You blink. “Wait, what—”

“If I can’t have mine untouched, I want compensation,” he says. “You took a sip of my drink. I’m taking one of yours.”

You gape at him. “That’s literally the same thing you were just complaining about.”

“Yeah, but this time it’s my choice.” He scoffs. “Give it.”

You hesitate but ultimately sigh, handing the cup over. He takes it, and without breaking eye contact, he lifts it to his lips and takes a slow sip.

Your brain short-circuits for a second.

As he swallows, immediately, his nose scrunches in utter disgust. “Ugh. How do you drink this?” He sets the cup on your free hand and glares at it like it personally offended him. “It’s sickeningly sweet.”

You raise a brow. “No one forced you to drink it, asshole.”

“Tch.” He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, still grimacing. “Consider yourself lucky. I’m feeling merciful today.”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “Merciful?”

“You should be grateful I didn’t make you buy me a new one.” He smirks, sharp and infuriating.

You roll your eyes, but before you can throw a retort, he steps back, grabbing his actual drink from your hand.

“I’m taking this back. Try not to steal from me next time, thief.”

You sputter out incoherent words in disbelief. He could’ve just taken it from the start. “Petty!” You say back but he ignores you.

And just like that, he walks away, leaving you flustered, annoyed, and (frustratingly) just a little bit intrigued.

Wait. Next time?

You glance down at your drink and feel a small scrap of paper, torn from what looks like a receipt, clinging to the cup’s condensation. Scribbled across it in messy handwriting and bleeding ink is a string of numbers. His number.

Your cheeks flush and your mouth gapes.

Instinctively, your gaze flicks to the exit, searching for him. He’s already by the door, his own drink in hand, but just before stepping out, he glances over his shoulder.

The moment your eyes meet, he smirks. He knows you’ve found it. Then, without a word, he turns and disappears into the crowd outside.

You stare after him. Your heart knocking once against your ribs, skipping a beat.

Did he plan that from the start?

note. just a little something haha you can tell kuni is my favorite character to write. thank you for reading ^^ feel free to send asks! likes and reblogs are appreciated <3

© lmvari do not repost, translate, or plagiarize any of my works on any platform.

[auren-zagarra]

Hello! I love your other NSFW fics, your writing is amazing! I'm not sure if you know about the Stitch's Tropical Turbulance event, but I'd like to request Lilia x female reader where they sneak off to have sex in the tropical forest away while from everyone? If you don't know the event, at Ramshackle is fine instead.

If your okay with it, pls include cream pie.

Thank you!

nimium calidum

Content Warning: Lilia x F!Reader, public sex, cream pie, MDNI

Characters Count: 4350

Author notes: I typically refrain from engaging directly with readers due reasons of privacy, but I want to sincerely thank you for your kindness. I paused working in my other projects just because you were so sweet. Thanks a lot for the support and respect, I’m grateful. I hope you enjoy such work, anon.

The feeling of the sand beneath your feet and the cool embrace of the ocean as it kissed your skin were the sensations you came to the beach for, the ones that everyone cherished. Some found joy in the laughter and energy of friends, engaging in volleyball matches until the heat left them drenched in sweat, prompting a collective retreat to the ocean's refreshing waters. Others sought solace in the shade, a book in hand, lost in the quiet serenity of the breeze brushing against their face. No matter your preference - whether savoring popsicles in the sun or riding the wild waves - one thing remained certain: sharing these moments with your boyfriend during such a festival felt like the perfect escape, a balm for the weight of everything that had transpired at NRC. Even with that strange, bluish creature from another world lurking in the back of your mind, it was this time with him you truly needed to yourselves. But what you hadn’t expected was for Lilia to lead you somewhere... more private. The tropical florest far from everyone, being more specific.

You had expected he would want some time alone with you - those sweet, quiet moments to share a kiss or two, perhaps enjoy each other’s company in peace and take a few bites from your neck… you knew him well enough to anticipate that. But you hadn’t quite expected him to grow so bold, his hands wandering a little farther than you were used to, touching places that would never be appropriate in public. Still, despite the unexpected turn of events, you weren’t surprised. Lilia had always been the kind of man who wanted to experience all that life had to offer, always seeking new moments, even if they were a little unexpected. You embraced this side of him, holding his semi nude body against yours as you drank every drop of that adorable smirk he gave you.

The minimal attire worn by both of you only served to heighten the illicit nature of your thirst for this man. Lilia's fingers gently caressed your intimate depths, his passionate kisses left you breathless, your nails dug into his back in fervent response… Everything was just perfect. Your muffled moans were swallowed by his lips, though, even if they hadn't been, you would do your best to keep them hushed – after all, you were not alone on that secluded beach. The scary thought of discovery hung heavy in the air, yet instead of dampening your ardor, the thrill of being caught added an exhilarating edge to your pleasure. The adrenaline and fear mingled with desire, amplifying each sensation until every touch felt electrifying.

The heat of the day was nothing in comparison to the passion igniting between you. Lilia's eager hands drew you near, removing the cloth barrier concealing your breasts. His attention swiftly shifted to lavishing worship upon your newly exposed flesh, red ruby eyes locked with yours, brimming with unbridled adoration. Without a moment's hesitation, he claimed you fully, his hardness sheathing itself deep within your welcoming core - which gently embraced him in lust. Waves of exquisite bliss crashed over you as he explored the heavenly sensations you offered him… and for a moment, you were so grateful to have such a man by your side who absolutely worshiped you like that.

Your legs trembled and weakened with each powerful thrust, threatening to give out entirely. Yet Lilia's strength, honed through years of loyal service to the Draconian crown, held you firmly in place. He effortlessly supported your weight, allowing him to continue his relentless pace without interruption. Each time your cries of ecstasy threatened to escape - drawing smiles of delight from your lover - he redoubled his efforts. The sight of your tears, born of overwhelming pleasure, only fueled his desire.

As the crescendo of your shared passion reached its peak, Lilia poured his essence deep within you, flooding your spasming depths with his warm release. Overwhelmed by the intensity of your mutual climax, you collapsed against him, your body melting into his embrace as wave after wave of euphoria crashed over you. He carefully withdrew, admiring the exquisite sight of his seed nearly spilling from your well-used entrance. However, the peaceful moment was short-lived - the sound of approaching footsteps shattered the tranquil moment, signaling an imminent threat to your privacy.

[targaryenluvs]

MAKE YOU STAY / EDDIE DIAZ

PAIRING: Dark!Eddie Diaz x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Your attempt to leave Eddie won’t work, because he won’t let them, or you.

WARNINGS: Obsession, guilt trip, jealousy, possessiveness, sexual content, manipulation gaslighting & entrapment.

WORDCOUNT: 2.3K Words

A/N: Happy season 7 launch!! I got inspired slightly by @megalony and her new Dark Evan series go check it out!!

Gif not mine, credits to the owner!

Life with Eddie use to be everything you could ever dream of. Whether it be slow mornings getting ready together, sharing a shower and helping Chris get ready. Or an absolute hurricane ripping through your home whilst the three of you stumble over each other to get ready after a sleep in.

No matter the time of day, you loved whatever you were doing, as long as they were by your side.

And Eddie’s protectiveness use to be just another aspect of your relationship you loved, until you opened your eyes.

It use to be small, his anger.

An incessant colleague reaching out for tips and aid in a new project, you being a senior member meaning it wasn’t uncommon for people to reach out to you. You were one of the best workers at the company, well respected and loved as well as brilliant. And always willing to help someone in need.

He use to love that about you. Until it followed you home.

Chris was currently at a friends house, leaving the two of you to an inside date night, “Now on what planet would I ever sit and watch four movies with the title ‘Die Hard’. You sure as hell can’t die that many times.” Eddie shook his head as you refilled each of your respective glasses.

“Sure you can, just ask Chimney.” You gasped before swatting Eddies arm, “Be nice! And put on our show.” The murmuring voices of your favourite characters was more than enough to lull you into his arms, content washing over you. Your ringing phone however, was ready to disturb the peace Eddie had longed for all day.

“Let me just grab this.” His hand scooped your phone up before you could, “Just get it later.” His dismissive tone made you frown, “Give me my phone, please.” You leaned over to snatch it, walking into the hallway. Eddie couldn’t help but massage his temple, did you seriously chose a phone call over peace and quiet in his arms?

He hadn’t noticed how often you picked up your phone, until it interrupted him. It happened often. When the two of you were cooking together, soft music and ambience long forgotten. Almost falling asleep, cuddling, and out of the blue the world was falling apart without you. Eddie thought he could handle it, you were needed, that wasn’t your fault, right? But what he also couldn’t handle was the secretive nature.

Why did you always walk away? Were you hiding something?

And now you were coming home later, clanging into the house at 11, or 12. Sometimes even later. “Where were you?” Eddie stood by the door as you hung your jacket, “Jesus, you scared me E.” His arms were crossed, shoulders tense as you made your way to him, a smile too wide for his liking. “Work ran late, m’ sorry.” As you walked away, his hand caught onto your wrist.

“Ow, let go.” Eddies grip loosened as you retracted your arm, soothing it, “What is your problem?” You looked up to view a sweet smile, “Nothing, just worried about you. When you didn’t call, I got so scared. This world, it’s scary Y/n, you know that, especially during these times.”

Your eyes watered involuntarily at his saddened demeanour, “Oh Eddie, I’m so sorry, I should’ve called. That’s my fault, forgive me?” Your arms came around his neck, before trailing down to his chest, playing with his name tag. “I forgive you, I can also think of a way you can make it up to me.”

His smile was mischievous, and intentions impure. “Oh? And what would that be Mr Diaz?” His hand was heavy on your back and slithering lower by the second, “I think we have an appointment with a bed tonight.”

“I have work tomorrow, so do you.”

“Cmon, for me?” His eyes were pure evil, and you were more than happy to give in, even if you were tired. Really damn tired, but he wanted you, so you should give in right? You did give him a fright. “Take me away Diaz.”

If you’d noticed the signs earlier, maybe you could’ve gotten away. His jealousy, when it did rear its head, was an ugly shade of green.

A late night, again.

Eddie had been by the door for 10, sitting for 20, pacing the kitchen and stress-eating for another 10 before he finally settled into bed. Wide awake of course. The opening of his bedroom door caused him to stir. He watched as you slowly moved around, placing your stuff away, putting your phone on charge and then changing.

He sat upright as you yelped, “Eddie! You scared me, again! Why are you sitting in the dark?” His face was drained of warmth, skin cold to the touch. “Was waiting for you, again.” You frowned at his words, “Baby, you know I’m late these days. Better for you to go to sleep than wait up.” He shook his head, burying his head into your stomach as his body relaxed. Your hands raked through his hair gently, “I think you should consider working from home.”

Your hands stopped in their tracks, working from home? The last time you worked from home was during lockdown, and you’d driven yourself half mad. “Why is that?” Eddie glanced up at you, “You’re barely home, Chris misses you, I miss you. Don’t you want to be with us?” You took a deep breath in before smiling, “Of course I do. I- I’ll see what I can do baby.”

His hands quickly dragged you into bed, “Knew you’d understand amor.” Eddie rested his head in the crook of your neck, his hands slowly making their way underneath your shirt.

“Sweetie, I’m tried.”

“I missed you.” You relented, letting him continue. It seemed to be all you were doing these days, bending backwards and over to please him, literally.

The first time you noticed his behaviour was also when you realised you needed space. Not that he’d give it to you. A new coworker, Harry, had invited not only yourself, but your friend Aleya and Jack out to lunch.

He was a nice guy, very eager to learn and never scared by a little constructive criticism. The only problem was probably his overbearing cologne, very pungent? Intense?

You’d also been driven to work that day, courtesy of your boyfriend. You were working shorter days now, completing about an hour or two of work at home now. It had taken some adjusting, after a few forgetful days and about a million texts from Carla with an impatient Chris at home waiting for you.

You spotted Eddies truck pull up as you wrapped up your conversation with the your three lunch goers, “And that’s me, I’ll see you guys on Monday. Thank you so much for lunch!” You reached out to Aleya for a side hug, the same for Jack and a normal hug for Harry. “Tell Eddie there’ll be a fire at my house later tonight, and he better bring Evan!” Jack joked as you waved him off.

Jack may or may not have a huge crush on Evan.

You hopped in, quickly chucking your purse and files into the back seat before kissing Eddie on the cheek. “Hi! How was Chris’s school?” Eddie shrugged his shoulders, “Fine.” Your eyebrows furrowed at his shortness, “Something wrong?” He turned onto the highway, knuckles tightly gripping the wheel, “You smell like him.”

“Like who? Harry?”

“That his name?”

You rolled your eyes, “No, it’s actually his father’s, middle name Jesus. Care for some wine Eddie?” Not once, had Eddie ever been physical. But raising his voice? Oh that was fair game.

“You think you’re funny huh? Having lunch with other guys and taking the piss outta me?”

“Nothing happened baby, it was lunch. He’s new and trying to fit in and I’m being nice. There’s nothing to worry about I swear.” The silence permeated in the truck, causing the hair on your arms to raise. You hated the silent treatment wholeheartedly.

“Whatever.”

His change in demeanour could flip like a switch, you always assumed it was him putting up a front. But when Eddie showed up the next day, flowers in hand and looking his sharpest, you were forced to reevaluate. “God I wish my boyfriend was that sweet.” Your project partner whispered as you sighed, “That’s Eddie.”

Even your boss wanted you to go with him, “Take the day off sweetie, you deserve it.” And with a pat on the back and a million swooning interns drooling over Eddie, you were sent on your way.

“I got these for you Y/n/n.” Your favourite flowers, arranged perfectly and smelling divine. Your hands wrapped around the bouquet, “Thank you Eddie, they’re perfect.” His smile caused your heart to race, he looked amazing. The Eddie with you that day was incredible.

His infectious laughter, perfect smile and the sweet nothings he whispered into your ear. That, was the Eddie Diaz you knew and loved. A gentleman, who had eyes for only you. Which is why you couldn’t help but wonder, what made him change? How was it possible to go from absolutely furious and unnecessarily jealous to an angel?

You didn’t want to know, and you didn’t want to stay around long enough to find out.

Maybe it was the date, or the fact that you felt as if he deserved an explanation face to face. Either way, if you’d known better, you would have made it away.

“Eddie, we have to talk.” The two of you were currently sitting on the couch, favourite show playing in the background. Eddie hummed along, a slight acknowledgment to your words. “It’s, about us.” Eddie turned the volume down, your sentence piquing his interest.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think, we should break up.”

And with six words, Eddies entire world came crashing down in front of him. What on earth were you talking about? “What did you say?” The smile on Eddies face was anything but sweet or reassuring, a bad attempt at keeping his composure. “You’ve been acting, odd, to say the least.” You stood from the couch as he followed in pursuit, all the way to the kitchen.

“I feel like, all that we’re doing lately is either fighting or sleeping. Every time I come home, you have something to say. Whether it’s about my later nights, about who I was with or what I’m doing on the phone. It’s like I have no privacy at all. I cannot keep a single thing to myself. And if I try to? You blow up at me. I mean last week for example, I tried my hardest to not argue with you by walking away. And all you did was follow me around the house, it drove me crazy. Showing up to my workspace when I tell you I can get more done without random lunch dates. I’m a grown adult but you treat me like a child. And if I stand up for myself I’m cheating. It makes no sense at all Eddie. And I tried to make it work, but I feel like you’re controlling me. I even reduced my hours, because you asked. I moved in even when I wasn’t ready, because you asked. I need a break.” You took a deep breath after your monologue, needing a second.

Turning towards Eddie, he stared straight at you. “I had no idea you felt that way baby. I’m so sorry, I never meant to do any of it. I love you so much, I can’t help but worry. After everything we’ve been through with Shannon,” And there it was, the guilt. It was blinding, clawing its way through you. Shannon. He’d already lost someone he loved, and Chris lost his mother. No wonder he was always to protective over you.

“Hey, I’m not leaving like Shannon okay? What happened was a tragic accident, and I promise nothing like that is going to happen again Eddie.” You immediately engulfed in a hug, his head resting against yours, “I don’t want to loose you, I don’t want Chris to loose you.” Eddie muttered repeatedly as you closed your eyes.

Chris walked into the room, thirsty, tired and curious, “Is something wrong?” You immediately detached yourself from Eddie, wiping away your tears, “Nothings wrong sweetie, did you need something?” He nodded before turning around and walking to his room, “We’ll talk later yeah?” Eddie whispered into your ear before moving ahead.

Sniffles came from underneath Christopher’s blanket, “You alright buddy?” Eddie asked, patting his hair down, “Water.” You watched as Eddie swiftly made his way to the kitchen whilst you sat down, “You need anything else?” Chris’s hand slowly lowered the blanket before smiling your way, “No thanks mum.”

And as quickly as he spoke, he turned over to sleep again. Your eyes were probably protruding out of your head, shock filling your senses. “Mum?” The word sounded foreign on your lips, but apparently comfortable enough on Chris’s.

“He called you mum.” Eddies voice was low, most likely as astounded as you based on the look on his face. You got up slowly, aware of the sleeping boy. You couldn’t help but smile, and kiss his forehead before making your way to Eddie. “I can’t believe it.” Eddies hand came up to wipe away the stray tears before pulling you in and kissing your forehead, “I can.”

“You’re apart of this family baby, always have been.” His words seeped in as he guided you to your bed, whilst you were stuck on autopilot. Chris viewed you as a parent to him, that’s how common you were in his life now, a constant for him to fall back on. He loved you, almost as much as you loved him. Your words weren’t forgotten just swirling in your head, how the hell could you ask for a break now? With this new huge responsibility?

Eddie knew, of course he knew. He was the one encouraging Chris to call you by your new name. Because if there’s one thing Eddie knew he needed, besides Chris?

It’s you, and he’d do anything to make you stay.

[leroiestmortvivelareine]

Strap in if you dare, I’m going to talk about Riko.

Yes, he is a Bad Person. Nothing I’m about to say counters that. However… evil isn’t always so obvious as to dress in black and torture everyone you love. Evil is insidious and nuanced - it can creep in when you aren’t expecting it and have no defences. We’ve been given this incredibly complex and interesting example of it, and we’ve been given it for a reason. Riko is a character worth trying to understand.

Could Riko ever have been saved, and if so what would it have taken? What if he’d been able to follow the Fox path to redemption instead of the Ravens to perdition?

Except both Foxes AND Ravens were traumatised… the thing that ruined Riko was power. Lincoln said it: “nearly all men can stand adversity but if you want to test a man’s character, give him power.” Who was Riko without power? It’s hard to see.

So I’m fascinated by a different question - how did Riko see Riko?

We know how the Foxes saw him: a low-functioning sociopath with zero coping skills and the personality of a cat trapped in a wall cavity. Presumably that’s not how he saw himself. What kind of headcanon did he construct for himself, what was his own personal mythology?

We know he wanted his father’s approval, he wanted to be number one. We know how badly he dealt with those desires being thwarted.

I know how it feels to be an abandoned child. You feel like the outer edges of a person, with this gaping hole in the centre. It’s not just that you lost a loved one, it’s - how can I say it - it’s like the clasp that lets you hold on to people has been torn out too. Everyone will leave now, and you know it.

(I didn’t cope by turning my bedroom into Abu Ghraib, though.)

It’s the worst of both worlds. His father is far enough away to cause that gaping wound, yet not sufficiently gone for it to ever close over and heal.

But… despite his impossible situation, Riko wasn’t withdrawing into himself. Resentment ate away at him and he liked doing side-projects of revenge, but it was hope driving him on. I see Riko as someone with a very hot flame in them, someone determined to succeed (like Neil). He was driven, even if the goal he chased so eagerly was an illusion. I think he saw his situation as a challenge, an opportunity to prove himself and eventually take his rightful place at his father’s side (surely that’s what Kengo really meant, surely this was a test, a test he can pass if he just wins one more time...)

Imagine something like… the second son of a Roman emperor, sent to some far-off outpost to get him out of the way subdue rebel tribes. A chance to make a name for himself, an opportunity to create an elite unit where violence and skill are everything, where winning is everything. A challenge he accepts with savage excitement.

And the world views them with the kind of awe once reserved for ancient Sparta. Unsurpassed warriors, impossibly focussed. Yes, they endure conditions no one else could even consider but they always win, and everyone loves winners. They are the legends of legends. Surely his father will see.

Kevin was his Lancelot, his shining sword, his right hand. Kevin added to Riko’s status, assured him he must be a hero if he had such a splendid champion at his side.

But Kevin is beautiful, so perhaps Riko’s feelings were more complicated than that, perhaps they were feelings he couldn’t admit he had. He could still work those feelings into the overall picture though… it’s all part of Kevin being his beloved champion.

Until the champion started edging him out of his own story and had to be sacrificed. A necessary sacrifice, but losing Kevin struck a huge blow to the mythology Riko built up about himself. He could no longer look in the mirror, side by side, and see Kevin’s glory (and, yes, Kevin’s dad) reflected back as though it belonged to him too.

Despite this Riko finds a way to keep winning, even without his champion. Surely that is even more impressive? Can his father see that?

Still no response. In the story Riko constructs for himself his father does no wrong, so this towering rage he feels has to crash down on someone else. He tells himself he is punishing his troops for daring to be unworthy.

Then there is Jean, someone from a caste so low as to be unclean, even subnormal, someone it would hurt Riko’s prestige to treat with any kind of respect. But Jean is also beautiful, and those feelings can’t be worked into the myth. Their outlet is the darkness behind closed doors, along with all the other feelings that don’t fit the story of the hero.

Harming his people, his intimate possessions, was Riko’s coping mechanism for rejection and humiliation the way self-harm in many forms is to many others. (Are you hearing me if I say hurting yourself is hurting your own Perfect Court, and there is collateral damage even if you think it’s just you, because people love you and suffer because of it? Are you hearing me if I say stop being Riko to yourself?)

And maybe his enjoyment of that cruelty was, deep down, a form of denial that the cruelty arose from anguish. ‘No I’m not upset, I’m not a loser, I’m in control, I’m doing this because I like it…’ Maybe even to the point where rendition becomes sexual.

But it’s starting to unravel. He’s lost his only friend and can no longer unleash his mounting frustrations on Jean the way he wants to; he’s running out of pieces for his board.

Then he finds the fugitive his family were chasing for so long. This is his big chance. He’ll have a brand new champion for his stable or a valuable offering to please his father, he wins either way.

He captures this feral child who tells him there is no empty throne waiting by the side of the emperor, Kengo never mentions his son’s name, Riko is nothing more than a joke in that far-off capital. So much scorn in those words that the carefully constructed mythology withers before it.

First the would-be rook took the queen, then the wild-card knight escapes again, and now the whipping boy / concubine / bishop is taken by a girl with a cross around her neck. The king has lost all his men… because that’s your REAL story, isn’t it: everyone leaves you.

And then… Kengo dies.

Yes, Riko is a Bad Person. No, I do not like him. But Nora gave us two boys who met their brother for the first time, two boys who cried out their brother’s name only to see their hopes shattered. And in that moment they were one, so I cannot dismiss this monstrous, horrible abomination no matter how hard I try.

I can however dismiss anyone who says Nora is not a goddess of writing.

[pinksilkribbons]

COLLAGE: yan! classmate

CW/TW: non-consensual candid photos, elijah has a shrine of [name], mentions of praying to and basically viewing another human being as god, small implication of a boner, general yandere stuff ig.

You guys my last post on Elijah got quite a few likes I’m so glad y’all like him!! He’s my least developed OC so i decided to write more on him and develop his character. I’ll post some of my others soon!

Ever since he bought his new polaroid, Elijah has discovered a new side of himself. At the beginning he’d only taken pictures of you and hung them around his closet.

But eventually…he grew tired of it. Not of his darling, no! Of course not! But…it was rather difficult to sneak photos of you without getting caught. Not to mention the majority of them turned out blurry anyway.

Something needed to change.

He didn’t just want pictures of you at school. He wanted pictures of everything. When you’re angry, when you’re sad, when you’re eating. Pictures in normal clothes instead of a school uniform for fucks sake!

In the beginning school was the easiest (and only) way he could gain access to you, but now it’s proving to make his job that much harder. There’s too many risks involved.

With a dramatic sigh he shut his closet door, making sure to click the padlock into place. After hanging so many pictures of you on his closet walls he decided it would be wise to invest in a lock.

He knows it isn’t normal. Taking pictures of people without asking isn’t normal. Being so deeply obsessed with someone isn’t normal.

But not being normal doesn’t make him bad. Just…more passionate!

“Hey mama?”, He asks, trudging down the stairs.

His mother turns away from her phone with a quick glance his way. Her head tilts up as if to silently ask him what he needs.

“You aren’t using these magazines anymore, are you?”

A small stack of magazines with a bunch of ‘trendy fashion’ labels catches his eye. On the front cover a young lady with blonde hair is posed in a field of flowers. The lady, however, isn’t what he’s interested in.

She laughs playfully and watches Elijah pick up the stack. “Well, not exactly. But why do you need them? I’ve never known you to be interested in fashion.”

Elijah feels a rush of red to his cheeks. A part of him feel dirty. Perverted, even. It’s clear his mother is implying something dirty, and while she isn’t even wrong, he’s probably planning something much worse than whatever she’s imagining right now.

It takes a few good seconds for his mind to come up with a plausible excuse. “W-well, I’m not interested in fashion! I just need some material for this project in art class.”

Luckily his mom doesn’t question him further. She definitely rolled her eyes at him though, clearly not believing his story.

As soon as he makes it back to his room Elijah is quick on his feet. He rushes over to his closet so quickly he almost falls over. A pulse of excitement gushes through his body as he begins to unlock his closet door.

The password to which is his darlings birthday, of course!

Upon opening the door, one wouldn’t suspect much of anything. Clothes, shoes, some random boxes, but nothing out of the ordinary. The real magic is in the far right corner, at the very bottom of the wall.

So far his collection is pretty small. The few photos he does have are all taped beside one another, carefully placed to ensure nothing is crooked or overlaps with the other. This small corner is Elijah’s entire life.

He lives and breathes [Name]. In fact, every morning, without fail, he finds himself in this exact position; sitting on his knees, admiring his darling. He bows his head and prays to your existence.

The amount of sheer joy your being grants him should never be taken lightly. Elijah is a good boy. He’s thankful. And He proves it every single morning.

“I feel kinda bad, cutting up her picture like this”, he mumbled to himself. His hands carefully maneuvered the scissors, making sure to save as much of his darlings face as possible.

Believe it or not it came out pretty good! Next he needed to cut the cover from his mom’s fashion magazine, which proved to be the real challenge.

The blonde lady on the cover was dressed in a blue flowy sundress. From the moment he saw it Elijah knew that dress was meant to be his darlings. The chances of him getting a real photo of you in this dress were zero, but he’d like to think he’s quite creative!

To finalize his creation he glued [Name]’s head onto the models face, successfully dressing her in the beautiful gown. Just imagining her in such an outfit had his heart racing and pants tightening.

It made him feel proud knowing he found a way to grow his collection while also reducing the risk of getting caught. Next time he visited the library, Elijah would be sure to pick up a few books on collaging.

You truly did bring out a new side of him. Who knew he was so artistic?

[lunar-weebin]

Touch Starved 🍲

a palia based reth x player slow burn

hello!

my name is luna and this is the first fic I’ve written in probably ten years? (the way this game and this majiri soup boy have a hold on me goes without saying but I’m saying it anyway.)

anyway, this is a teaser for the first chapter. I’m proud of this little self indulgent project and hope my fellow reth enjoyers will have fun reading it in its entirety once I finally get my AO3 invite.

in the meantime, enjoy the appetizer! 💛

tags — reth, palia, player character, reader, she/her pronouns, slow burn, romance, some game spoilers, cartel centric plot, some negative emotional themes like anxiety and depression.

The sun had already begun to sink beyond the horizon as the heels of your leather boots scuff along the cobblestone beneath your tired feet. You do your best to ignore the ache in your soles as you make your way to the Ormuu’s Horn in search of some reprieve after a long day.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself as the gentle patter of civilian foot traffic against the masoned trail fills your ears.

Somewhere deep down, though, you know that practically every trip you make to the inn as of late is an excuse to see a very specific smug, flirtatious smirk on the other side of the bar. One that belongs to a charming — albeit shady — Majiri cook you’ve grown rather close to ever since you materialized from a mysterious pink void deep inside an ancient ruin almost a year ago.

Reth.

Brief recollections of his familiar, cocky expression flashes across your thoughts, curling your lips into a soft smile as you make your way past Jel’s shop.

Auni calls out to you from the village green with a quick greeting. He’s grinning wide and showing off the adorable gap in his teeth as he waved, lugging his humorously large pack over his shoulders. His voice snaps you out of your little daydream, prompting you to wave back at him and return a warm beam in his direction.

As you slow down, you happen to notice Jel and Tish on their way out of the tailoring shop, deciding to trot over to them and catch up. You were more of a night owl these days, mostly for Reth’s sake, so the chance of running into them was pretty rare unless you absolutely needed to stop at their shops during the day as part of an errand run. You extend a friendly wave as you casually make your way toward them.

“Jel, Tish!” Calling out to them gets their attention, and they wait at the foot of the stairs leading from the village circle. They wave back, both smiling at you, though Jel’s coy-but-gloomy simper nearly cancels out Tish’s eager, happy grin.

“Hey stranger, long time no see,” Tish says playfully, narrowing her eyes in an exaggerated look of speculation before erupting into a cheery giggle. Her laugh reminds you of the tinkling chime of bells, pure and sweet, and you can’t help but feel a stab of guilt at her words. You clasp your hands together nervously in a pleading gesture.

“I know, I know. Don’t hate me,” you start. “I’ve just been really busy. I’m sorry.”

This wasn’t a complete lie. You have been really busy. Helping Reth. By making cartel runs. Which, of course, Tish knows nothing about.

You inwardly grimace at having to omit that bit of information, but you quickly justify it by remembering you’re only doing this to keep her safe. Tish’s safety —along with the importance of her not finding out about Reth’s involvement with Zeki and the cartel — was something you and he had discussed so much the past few weeks that it was thoroughly drilled into you. You couldn’t slip up now.

Tish smiles at you empathetically, sensing the strain of discomfort in your tone and trying to ease the obvious remorse you feel for being so absent. “Hey, I understand,” she smiles, her blue eyes wide, bright and brimming with kindness. “Jel and I have been busy too, what with designing new lines and all.”

Jel emphasizes her words by ruffling a stack of supplies in his arms that seem to be an assortment of design sketches — some of them of his extravagant outfits, others of Tish’s furniture blueprints — and bundles of colorful fabric swatches.

“Trust me, we get it. Inspiration never sleeps,” he offers, pinching the bridge of his nose and adjusting his glasses in an exasperated movement that just screams I have so much work to do. “Ah, the things we do for art.” He shrugs, rolling his eyes.

Tish places an encouraging hand on Jel’s shoulder in solidarity, looking about as spent as he does before directing her attention back to you.

“You know,” she hums, “I see you about as much as I see Reth these days.” Her voice takes on a sudden sad lilt with her next words. “It would be nice if you both stopped in at the shop sometime.” Her face drops at the mention of Reth’s name, a small concerned frown tugging at the corners of her lips.

Reth had an evening ritual of stopping over to chat with Tish and Jel after his shift at the inn, letting them fill him in on their latest ideas and designs over whatever dinner he whipped up before the kitchen closed. It had become a consistent habit for the three of them, and for a moment, you fondly remember walking past the shop windows when you first made your way through town, seeing their trio huddled in the back around Jel’s desk, laughing and thumbing through piles of design drafts as they pecked at bowls of steamed fish and fried rice.

You pick up on the melancholic change in Tish’s tone, and a slightly panicked question pulls at your thoughts.

“Did Reth not stop by tonight?” You do your best to sound mildly inquisitive instead of worried, and the question hangs in the air between the three of you for a painfully long beat before she finally responds.

“No.” She says the word curtly and turns away, fidgeting with her long blonde hair, her face showcasing the very same worry you were feeling just under the surface.

“–But,” Jel cuts in, an attempt to minimize the rapidly growing concern surrounding the topic at hand, “it’s possible he just had a long day. He’s probably restocking his storeroom or getting a lecture from Ashura as we speak.” It’s Jel’s turn to put a reassuring hand on Tish’s shoulder as she weakly smiles up at him, a nonverbal thanks for the support of her friend.

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s probably nothing. I just… worry about him, you know? He’s my brother, so it’s not like I have a choice in the matter.” She gives a halfhearted chuckle, her brows still knitted together in a bothered expression. “He barely touched his food yesterday and he seems really… on edge?” Her words come out as a question instead of a statement, her eyes prodding at you, expecting you to provide some insight.

Yeah, that’s because he’s working in illegal underground flow trade so he can pay off his massive debt to the cartel, and he’s having his life threatened on a biweekly basis because of it, and he can’t even ask for help at the risk of being locked up by the Order forever. That tends to make people a little anxious.

You want to air out the wild string of words that swirl in your mind and beg her to help you get him out of this mess, but you don’t.

Instead, you give her a look of reassurance and choose to respond in a way that doesn’t spill the many, many proverbial beans — or alarm her further.

“Reth… has a lot on his plate.” You pull Tish into a quick, comforting hug, then draw back to look at her, your hands resting on her shoulders, clutching them softly. “I’ll talk to him and see what’s up. I promise.”

That lie hurts more than words can describe, but the light returns to her face as she beams up at you in gratitude.

“Thank you,” she sighs, a wave of relief visibly washing over her, smoothing the lines of dismay from her face for the time being. She clearly trusts you to handle this, and that makes it hurt even more.

You fully release her from your friendly embrace, holding onto her hand and giving it a firm final squeeze before exchanging goodbyes, giving her and Jel a hurried wave as you move quickly toward the inn. You push down the momentary guilt you feel in favor of focusing on finding Reth, conscience be damned.

You approach the doorway of the Ormuu’s Horn, the warm scent of clay and sapwood smoke from the hearth immediately wafting into you as you enter. You notice Ashura’s towering, broad form, still at his desk diligently filling out ledgers and other various forms under lamplight.

He spots movement across the room, accompanying the sound of the door closing behind you, your figure caught in the light from the low fire going in the lobby. He looks up at you over his reading glasses, scribbling something quickly on the paper in front of him before giving you his full attention.

“Come in,” he says with a beckoning hand gesture. “I’d ask what brings you here, but I’m pretty sure I already know the answer.” He smiles, a warm and compassionate glint in his eye.

Ashura has been the closest thing Reth has to a father figure since moving into Kilima from Bahari, and he pretty much acted as his guardian. Looking out for him, doing his best to guide him and keep him out of trouble. By Dragon’s grace, Reth’s second less legitimate venture was flying under his radar — for now.

“Reth?” Your inquiry came out rushed, your voice tinged with anxiety. Ashura furrows his brow, setting his reading glasses down on the desk between you.

“It was a slow night, so I told him he can leave early,” Ashura starts. “Naturally, he tried to argue with me, but I insisted. He’s running on fumes. He needs to rest.” He brings two fingers to his temple, massaging small circles into it as if he has a headache before he continues.

“I helped him clean up the kitchen, then he must have slipped out of the lobby while I was checking in a patron. Haven’t seen him since, so I’m hoping he’s at home getting some rest for once.” He scratches his beard thoughtfully, then reaches to turn off his desk lamp. “And I’m not too far behind him. I’m too well past my prime to be up late, so I’m turning in for the—“

“Did you see him go out the front door by chance?” You interrupt him, your words coming out so fast they were nearly indecipherable, but Ashura managed to understand them somehow.

“Well, no, I—“

Before he could finish his sentence, your feet were already carrying you so fast you practically flew past him in the direction of the storeroom. His eyes tried — and failed — to follow you as you disappeared around the corner.

“Okaygreat!ThanksAshura!” You throw the rushed jumble of words over your shoulder, hearing only a fading “Huh?” from him in reply as you swing through the doorway and dart downstairs.

Apart from the loud creaking of the floor boards as your feet hastily thud against them, the cellar was peaceful this time of night. Normally, the only sounds would be the gentle beating of rippling water against the wooden framework of the dock, and the quiet chirp of crickets outside.

A single ceiling light hung over a table surrounded by crates, just bright enough to see, casting a warm glow across the space. If you were a little less stressed, you’d be tempted to sit out here and enjoy it. But you can’t. Not with your heart racing a million ticks a minute.

What if he messed up a delivery? What if he was caught by a Watcher? What if he abandoned a job and the cartel got to him?

You beeline straight up to the door to Reth’s storeroom on the other side of the cellar – the room he affectionately dubbed your “special spot” shortly after giving you a key to come and go as you please.

This was the place the two of you would go to discuss any and all crime-related plans and activities. It was also the place you would sneak away to share some late night laughs and try some of Reth’s new recipes when he was feeling restless between shifts, which lately, was all the time.

Please be here, please be here, please be here.

You repeat the words in your head as you rummage through your pockets for the key, releasing a breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding when you find it. The brass feels cold against your fingers as you shakily slip it into its place and turn it clockwise until the mechanism makes a satisfying metallic click.

You draw in one final deep breath before nudging the door open, the oldness of the wood creaking quietly as you do so. A single stripe of light leaks from the storeroom, dancing on the cellar floor and growing wider until it captures your silhouette, then you make your way inside.

Much to your relief, Reth is here.

You let out an audible sigh as your eyes lock onto his figure. He’s in a chair, slumped over, his head resting on a small table as he snores softly. You gingerly step through the doorway, closing the door gently behind you, and moving a bit closer to him to further inspect the scene.

On the table, you see a cutting board packed with neatly cubed potatoes, their russet skins discarded in a browning pile of scraps next to it. A small knife for dicing, and a wire potato peeler.

Your eyes trail from the table to Reth, focusing on him.

You take notice to the state of his hands first, a small bandage on almost every other knuckle, and no less than a dozen other superficial cuts — probably from being too tired to cook, making too many mistakes with his knife work and burning his fingers the stove.

You notice the gentle rise and fall of his back as he breathes, and the way he sleeps with his head down on the table, cradling it with his arms. He was still in his chef’s jacket, although a couple of the buttons were undon, and the apron he typically wore around his waist while he worked was tossed over a nearby chair.

You slowly move closer to him, softly calling out his name. “Reth?” Your voice is small and quiet, but usually it’s enough to wake him up. “Reth?” You try again, to no avail. His snore falters, but he still doesn’t stir. “Reth,” you say, a little louder, still trying to keep your tone soft enough that you don’t startle him, again, with no result.

You pad lightly up to his side, getting a closer look at his face. He looks so peaceful when he sleeps, and you try to burn the image into your mind. Despite his usual laidback demeanor and devil-may-care attitude, it was rare for you to see Reth this serene.

Over the time you’ve known him, there has always been an undercurrent of stress in his features; lines of worry permanently etched into his forehead and bags under his eyes from sleepless nights. You hadn’t understood the sadness behind his cheery disposition when you first met, but the more you got to know him, the more those subtle details made sense.

Now though, he seemed different. The plains of his face were smooth. Free of any indication that his life — and Tish’s life — hung in the balance. Free of the burden of sacrificing everything he had for the people he loved. Free of being a mule for the Grimalkin cartel.

For a moment, your heart aches, and the familiar need to protect him bubbles up inside you once again, leaving a bittersweet taste in the back of your mouth that you can’t quite wash away by swallowing. So strong, it almost burns.

Something about watching him sleep soundly for the first time in weeks, the gentle ebb and flow of his breathing, pulls on your heartstrings, and suddenly you’re met with the same thought you’ve probably had a million times since Reth first told you about his implication with the cartel:

You’d do anything to absolve him of his debt.

hope you enjoyed!

I know this is a bit of a long read for a teaser, but honestly, I’m terribly impatient. I’ve literally been sitting on this fic for months.

I’m currently about three full chapters into writing, and as soon as I get my AO3 invite, I’ll be posting at least two of them there as well as on wattpad — just because I’ve never used either and I’m curious about which will work better for me personally.

this fic will contain smut and kink and angst, but it is intended to be a slow burn, so please be patient with me while I flesh out the story. also be prepared for some violent themes.

follow for updates if you’re interested in reading more. I’m having a lot of fun writing this one and hope to start really getting into my groove with dropping chapters regularly pretty soon.

header / dividers are from @strangergraphics

[girlfromthecrypt]

Note: This is merely a pitch introduction post. My main project remains Such Happy Campers. I have no title in mind for this IF (suggestions are welcome), although I am very passionate about the idea and will work on it on the side while I write SHC.

You are... or were one of the most famous yet mysterious characters in the 21st century pop-rock scene. 

It all started when you discovered your love for singing during an extended stay at a psychiatric hospital as a teen. Music became your motivator, and from then on, you knew the stage was where you belonged. Your friends agreed… and that is how your band came to be. After years of practice in your friend’s mother’s garage and cheap gigs at dingy bars, your journey to the top begins abruptly when you team up with a skilled manager.

It's a meteoric rise— until it isn’t. 

And now, a decade after your band has withdrawn from the public eye, you’ve accepted an interview by the acclaimed Groove Magazine. You and your former band members have agreed to give them the truth, the whole truth; as ugly as that might be. 

Follow the story of your band’s rise to fame (and eventual fall from grace)

Play as a pop-rock vocalist

Name your band and customize your music, lyrics and image

Handle the media, interactions with pushy fans and your own repressed thoughts and fears 

Romance your coolgirl-bassist, the childhood friend you cut out of your life, your absolutely insane guitarist, or your biggest fan/stalker

Give one hell of an interview

Inspiration: Daisy Jones and The Six, Fleetwood Mac

TW: themes of mental illness, substance abuse, death, mentions of suicide, suicidal ideation and self-harm, unhealthy relationship dynamics

ROs:

Stevie McLaughlin, bassist (f) — “I suppose I was the sanest one in that bunch.”

She’s one of your oldest friends, and if you follow the clanking chain of cause and effect all the way back to the beginning, it is her you have to thank for your entire career. The band was her idea, after all. She’s level-headed, composed, and always there to talk you down when you need her. Sometimes, she acts more as your retainer than anything else…

Paul/Paulette Zima, lead singer & saxophonist (f/m selectable, trans) — “Trying to figure out where you know me from?”

Your band’s brand-new, second lead singer. Your manager says they’re going to give your music the kick it needs, that they’re the one missing ingredient to your success. You’re not entirely sure if you agree. Worse yet, you happen to know this person, and your time together didn’t end on a favorable note. They’re part of a past you would much rather forget. 

Angel Monsanto, guitarist (m) — “I was always going to make it big, with or without those guys. Only, I… I really wanted it to be with them.”

Your crazy but good-hearted guitarist. His passion for music borders on obsession, and he will stop at nothing to make a name for your band. Sadly, he’s very much of the conviction that all publicity is good publicity, which has encouraged him to pull some very questionable stunts in the past. 

Lincoln Saunders, groupie?? (f/m selectable) — “What can I say, I loved them. When they first walked out onto that stage, it felt like my heart was going to explode.”

Calling Lincoln a fan would be an understatement. Fanatic is more like it. You remember seeing them at your very first show, and you’ve continued to spot them at every venue you’ve played at since. You don’t know anything about them, and perhaps changing that would be a very bad idea. But maybe you still want to.

Others:

Fatima Shah (f), drummer — “I’m pretty sure they tried to make me disappear with their fog machine.”

After things didn’t work out with your original drummer, Fatima saved the day. She’s a sweetheart to you, but from what you’ve heard, she can be kind of a terrible person. Maybe it’s best to stay a little wary of her.

Kalena Graham (f), manager — “The first time I saw them… well, they kind of sucked. But I knew, I just knew, that they had what it takes to suck on an international level.”

Your band’s manager. You can’t believe how lucky you were to have caught her attention. She’s experienced, driven, well-regarded in the industry and… kind of mean.

Simon Young (m), reporter — “Start at the beginning. And then, don’t stop.”

The guy conducting the interview for Groove Magazine. He’s nice enough, if a little starstruck. It seems he has been waiting a long time for this.

[dividers by @thecutestgrotto]

Please consider reblogging if you like my work!

[okminer07]

Nuna Pt 1

This is a sort of fanfic and gift for @muppenthings. I absolutely love her artwork and the characters she has created, and I really wanted to try and write a story including one of her characters and one of my own creations, an axolotl mer. I hope to write more even though I've created way too many projects for myself at once. Hope you enjoy!

Like so many times before, she found herself curled up at the bottom of a tank. This one was much more cramped than any she had been in before. Back at the aquarium, her tank had been large enough for her to swim around in, though every which way there would be prying eyes watching her every action. At first, it had been amusing to stare back at the wide-eyed humans, even doing things to elicit a reaction. But as the years passed, even that grew dull. The aquarium hadn’t been the worst, that’s for sure. At least there she wasn’t alone, though the company wasn’t the most pleasant, it was company.  

It felt stupid, but she almost wished she was back there now as the walls of this new tank closed in around her, only just big enough for her and only her: no sand, no rocks, no nothing, just cold glass.   

She wasn’t sure how long she had been lying there when a noise other than her shuddering breaths hit her. Glancing up, she saw the warehouse garage door open and two humans walking in. They headed directly for her. She glared at them, feathery gills curling forward.  

Without giving her much more than a glance, the two men grabbed either side of the tank and hoisted it up. Still glaring, she moved around as much as she could, just wanting to make their job harder. They didn’t seem to care though and were soon lowering her back down onto a cart. One of them lingered and teasingly tapped on the glass before signaling to his partner to start pushing.   

The wheels beneath her rumbled and screeched as they began to move. They headed towards the open garage door. She squinted as sunlight hit her as soon as they had wheeled out of there. Once her eyes were adjusted, she peered through the glass. Wherever she was, it was by the ocean. Several boats were lined up along a pier that they were wheeling her across now. They took a sharp turn and began down a portion of a dock that cut right through the lines and lines of boats.   

As they passed them, Nuna averted her gaze. So many of those horrible things in one place couldn’t mean anything good.  

“Which way was the enclosure for this one?”  

The other man looked incredulously at the other, “How the hell should I know? I thought you knew which way it was so I was just following you.”  

“Well, I was waiting for you to tell me I was going in the wrong direction. I’m guessing they’ve either made a new place for her somewhere in the bay.”  

“But she’s freshwater! Shouldn’t she be in-”  

“The other one's freshwater too, and he seems to be doing just fine. Now come on.”  

They continued down the docks, passing boat after boat. Making a sharp left, the tank was heaved up a wooden incline. The two men were both grumbling once they had reached the top and didn’t make it very far before one of them began to complain again.   

“How much further do we have to push this thing?”  

“I uh…” the taller of the two looked around, “I don’t know.”  

His partner scoffed, “You don’t know? Well then why am I even listening to you?”  

The other suddenly shoved himself away from the cart, “Because I’m the one actually trying to figure this out here!”  

“Yeah well, you haven't figured out anything!”  

“Well if you’re so wise, why don’t you-”  

As they continued to argue, Nuna simply tuned them out and instead peered through the glass at her new surroundings. Her heart nearly leaped out of her chest when she peered over the edge of the concrete pier and saw water below. It looked to be salty in nature but that didn’t matter, it was open water!   

She peered over her shoulder as a plan began to form in her mind. The two men were still fighting, their argument only getting more heated by the minute. Her gills uncurled and twitched with anticipation as she looked back down at the water. One chance, she had one chance at this.   

As much as she could in the limited space, she situated herself as far from the side of the tank facing the ledge. She breathed, large blue eyes staring down the glass wall. With as much force as she would muster from both her hands and tail, she threw herself forward.  

The tank lurched forward as she slammed into the glass. Grimacing as dull pain blossomed throughout her body, she looked back over her shoulder. The two hadn’t noticed a thing. So relieved she could cry, she did it again, and again, and again. The tank inched its way further and further off the cart with each blow.  

Finally, after slamming herself again and again against the glass, the tank’s edge teetered on the cart until it began to fall forward. Nuna pressed herself against the glass and watched as it toppled off the cart. Her stomach dropped as her view of the sky was replaced by the approaching water.  

The tank hit the water’s surface and she was slammed back against the glass, the force of her head hitting it causing it to crack. She groaned, clutching her head as it throbbed painfully. 

As the tank began to sink, she heard yelling from above her and looked up to see the faces of both the men staring down at her. They both looked dumbfounded. Nuna smirked up at them as the entirety of the tank slipped beneath the surface.   

The open water surrounding her was an inviting shade of blue, seeming to stretch on forever. It had been so long, so long since she had been able to stare off into the depths and not be met with a child or researcher's face staring back at her. The ability to swim endlessly through it was just within her reach. All that stood between her now was oh-so-familiar glass.   

Her eyes fell upon the crack her head had made. Raising both her fists, she began to pound against the glass. Low cries of desperation slipped out of her as the crack began to grow and she began to hammer against the surface more feverishly. Come on, please, please!   

The glass gave way and her fist soared right through it. Her fingertips tingled painfully at the unfamiliar salt water, it seeped under her nails and stung. She gritted her teeth and continued to shatter the glass. The whole panel suddenly gave way and she instantly swam out.  

Her skin stung all over the moment she swam out into the water. She let out a pained cry, screwing her eyes shut. It was most painful on her belly, which was decorated with scales and offered many crevices for that burning salt to burrow into. She curled into a ball, rubbing herself all over, trying to soothe the pain.  

Slowly, it began to dissipate. The stinging began to dull. Nuna cracked her eyes open, clutching herself as she gasped for breath. I’m ok. I’m ok. She slowly unfurled her tail and gills. 

I-Im, I’m free. She thought, letting out a pained laugh. Her face split into a smile and she continued to laugh as she swam loops. I’m out, never gonna have to see a human again! Never gonna have to deal with tanks! Never-   

She froze as soon as she felt it, sensed it. Her gills twitched as they felt the shift in the water. Something moving. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she gazed into the blue abyss. Nothing. She squinted, still nothing.  

Her tail flicked nervously as she continued to sense… something. Maybe someone? Her eyes brightened. What if it was another mer? Someone… someone who could help her? Nuna began to wrack her brains, how did you say hello again in mermish? Oh gods, she had practically forgotten her own language.  

“Hello?” she called out in human, the only language she had.   

No response. 

“Hello? Is… is someone out there?”  

This time, she heard something, but it wasn’t a voice. It was a low rumble. Her tail flicked as her bones seemed to rattle. Wh-what… what was-  

Something began to emerge. Its outline was barely visible but what she could see of it was massive. What was worse was it was becoming clearer… it was getting closer.   

Nuna’s eyes widened, she spun around on the spot and began to swim in the opposite direction. Another low rumble rang out, causing her tail to swish more frantically. She looked over her shoulder and all the color drained from her face. Whatever it was had also quickened its pace, she could vaguely make out a face with two orange eyes. 

She whipped her head back around and tried to propel herself forward with her arms. Even if she had no idea what it was, there was no way anything that big could be anything else other than a threat to her existence, a predator. Her eyes began to sting as hysteria began to overtake her. It’s- it’s gonna get me! It’s gonna eat me! T-this will all have been for nothing! She shook her head, no, no! You won’t let it! You won’t!  

Suddenly, the ocean all but stopped, and in its place was a large rock wall. She came to an abrupt stop, whipping her head all over, looking for where else to go. The low rumbling of the creature was getting louder, she didn’t have much time. Seeing nowhere else to go, she dove down.  

She was quickly met with the sandy sea floor, faced with the same problem. Looking around, her eyes lit up as they landed upon a small opening in the rock face. Without a second thought, she darted through it. It opened into a small cave, just big enough for her but certainly not that… that thing!   

Heart still hammering against her ribs, Nuna swam over to the furthest corner of the cave and tried to make herself as small and unnoticeable as possible. Please… Just… just go away. Just go-    

A low rumbling rattled her bones as her surroundings darkened. Her entire body was trembling like she was in frigid arctic water. The water around her seemed to shift and she could hear whatever was out there moving. She looked to the cave entrance and slapped a hand over her mouth, preventing herself from screaming.  

Where the entrance had once been, there was now an eye. A piercing orange eye nearly the same size as her entire body. It blinked as it began to survey the cave with pronounced slowness. Nuna froze, holding her breath. Her heart plummeted when it flicked over to her curled-up form. Its pupil dilated.   

The eye suddenly whisked away from the entrance and for a moment, she uselessly hoped that it had lost interest. All those hopes were crushed when the cave gave a great shudder. She cried out as two long and clawed fingers longer and thicker than her entire being, slammed through the entrance. They began to try and wiggle their way deeper in, flipping and turning every which way, all their movements directed her way. She pressed herself against the cave wall so hard it was starting to hurt and squeezed her eyes shut as the cave continued to tremble almost as much as her.  

After what felt like an eternity of panicked, quaking, darkness, it stopped. A low and short rumble caused Nuna to crack open her eyes. The thing’s fingers had withdrawn and had been replaced with that same orange eye, fixated right back onto her. It squinted and let out another rumble more like a deep whine this time.  

She remained silent as she stared right back at it, bracing herself for it to continue to try and get at her. But it didn’t. Slowly, after giving her one last look, the eye pulled away, leaving the cave entrance open.  

For a few agonizing minutes, she waited. Waited to see if it would do anything else.if it would come back. When she heard nor saw anything, she slowly left her spot against the wall. 

Tentatively, she swam over to the cave entrance and went to peek her head out. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement below her. She shrieked and darted back to her place against the wall. Once again, the creature’s eye blocked off the opening and fixated upon her. A second or two later, it went away again.  

Nuna breathed, clutching at her chest as she slid back down onto the rock floor. It’s out there. Right outside, waiting. She swallowed and looked back towards the entrance. No doubt right below it, the creature was poised and ready. Her head slumped against the wall; she’d just have to wait it out. Wait until it loses interest and swims away. She bent her tail and hugged it to her chest. She’d just have to wait.

[sehunniepotwrites]

WITH YOU | MK.L | THREE

SYNOPSIS. There are many things Mark Lee wants to do with you. He wants to walk you home. He wants to dive into the deep blue sea with you. He wants to go on a drive with you at his side. But mostly, this crazy, head over heels in love boy just wants to make it with you.

PAIRING. mark lee x fem!reader

GENRE. college!au, friends-to-lovers!au, tooth-rotting fluff, humor WARNINGS. profanity, sulky!mark because he failed his exam and lost a game, mention of (non-alcoholic) drinks, mentions of creeper guy that doesn't get a damn hint

WORD COUNT. 1.2k+

DISCLAIMER. This is work of fiction. I do not own the people/characters or concepts I have written about. You cannot translate or copy my work. © sehunniepotwrites, 2023

I. WALK YOU HOME | II. DIVE INTO YOU | III. DRIVE | IV. MAKE IT WITH YOU

Mark Lee having a bad day was a rare commodity. The athlete was seldom seen with his brown eyes aimed to the floor and a frown stitched onto his face. No, he was usually spotted with a bright sparkle in his irises, a grin that was way too wide for his small and handsome face, his hockey gear tucked in under his arm, and most importantly, you. 

Maybe that was the stark difference between Mark’s drastic moods. You weren’t present at the home game that just finished. On top of it being midterms week, an ultimate stressor on its own, you skipped out on today’s game in favor of finishing a midterm project with a partner that may or may not have been putting some moves on you. Hearing that news after basically bombing his Biology exam that was worth twenty perfect of his grade just added onto his sullen behavior. Instead of focusing on the game, Mark’s mind was void of the strategized plays and off the ice, floating all the way down to the campus library–where you were.

Mark really shouldn’t be upset. He should’ve been proud that you put your grades first instead of a game. After all, you weren’t a student athlete; this game shouldn’t mean a thing to you.  But it was his game. You were his lucky charm. You always have been and you always will be. 

Sure, others showed up to the games with his number painted onto their cheeks in their university colors and poster boards that displayed his name but they weren’t you. You weren’t the one in the crowd with the pretty, mismatched ribbons in their hair or screaming his name as he scored a goal. You weren’t there, drowning in his away game jersey like you usually were. You were drowning in school work with a guy that would not leave you alone. 

“It’s fine,” you said. “I just have to stick it out until the end of the week and it’ll be okay. I notified my professor and we’re meeting up in their office so I’m not left alone with the guy.”

“Yeah but–”

“Go and score a goal for me,” you hushed Mark, pressing a manicured finger to his lips when he tried to push back. “Promise?”

Mark’s frown grew. “But–”

“Ah,” you replied, adding more pressure to his lips. Raising your free hand, you brought your pinky towards him. “Promise?”

Mark sighed in defeat, linking his pinky with yours. He shook your intertwined hands. “Promise.”

Knowing you won, you grinned. “That’s my Marky. Now, go! I’ll see you tomorrow! You’ll be fine without me.”

But he wasn’t. 

And it’s sad how reliant on you Mark became. Before you, he could fully function on his own. Now? Mark was seen with you more often than not. You were like an extension of him, something he couldn’t live without. His teammates and friends noticed it; Haechan wouldn’t let Mark go a day without teasing him on the ice. Johnny, who wasn’t on the team, often made a lot of noise during games to let Mark know exactly where the two of you sat. And Jaehyun, bless his soul, always explained the technicalities of the sport so you understood each and every play-by-play in order to cheer Mark on.

He wasn’t fine before, during, or after the game and all he could think about was you. Nothing else mattered but you. 

To top off this horrible day, they lost the game. There were definitely other factors that contributed to the loss but the most defining one was that Mark’s head wasn’t in it. He tried taking your mind off of you but quickly deemed it impossible. Even after he showered, lugged his sorry ass out of the hockey arena and into his car, his mind was still glued to the thought of you. Driving aimlessly around campus didn’t help and before he knew it, Mark’s hands fiddled with his dashboard screen until your number was dialed.

Two rings later and he heard your voice. “Hey,” you greeted, voice booming from the speakers. Your voice was soft unlike the other times you answered the phone–a lot gentler, like he needed to be approached with caution.

“Hi,” Mark mustered out before going silent again. All the two of you could hear were the sounds on the road.

“What’s going on?” you asked with that same soothing voice. 

You knew what happened. You weren’t there to witness the losing game but word travels fast. Johnny and Jaehyun called you shortly after the game, relaying an abbreviated version of the game while escaping the disappointed crowd. They made it known that Mark was off his game the entire time. Your friends made a light joke, saying it was because you weren’t there, and pointing out how he seemed different whenever you were in attendance. You brushed off their teasing but assured them you would check on your best friend. 

But despite knowing, you wanted the news to come from Mark. If he didn’t want to talk about it, that was okay with you too. You could practically hear him shrugging as he replied, “Dunno, I just wanted to see you.”

Noticing that Mark was so close to shutting down completely, you answered, “Well, I’m always down to see you. Care for a drive, Marky?”

He caught the sound of rustling from your ride and figured you were rushing to get ready before he arrived. The arena was a mere seven minute drive from your housing complex, not giving you much time to get yourself together at all. Prior to him calling, you were most likely nestled up under your comforter, adorning your favorite pair of sweats and oversized hoodie to keep you warm. Mark wanted to say that you didn’t have to change, but knowing his best friend, you’d probably ignore whatever he said. 

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I need.”

“I’ll see you in a few then,” you said with finality before hanging up the phone.

A few minutes later, Mark pulled up to your complex, only to find you already downstairs. You didn’t come empty handed, the drink tumbler he always used when he was over at your place in one hand and your tumbler in the other. He reached over the console to open the passenger door for you and you immediately slid in, handing him his cup. 

“Hey you,” you smiled at him before pressing a short kiss to his cheek. Whereas he caught you off guard the last time you went to the beach, his soft lips grazing against your cheek, it was your turn to surprise him. The action shocked him so much, he almost dropped the steaming drink in hand.

“H-hey,” Mark stuttered a bit pathetically, swiftly turning his attention to his tumbler. Bringing it up to his lips, he tasted his favorite comfort drink–hot cocoa with whip cream and marshmallows. The temperature was a bit too hot, the liquid burning his tongue after having a lick of melted whip cream, but he didn’t dare complain. He took another sip of it before putting it down and shifting the gear to drive. 

The drive itself wasn’t necessary to Mark, he already felt a bit better in your presence as you buckled your seatbelt. 

It’s you—you’re what he needed. You’re what he wanted. And you’re the one person that would always bring a smile to his face. It didn’t feel right to admit it to you now, not when he was just sulking in all of his sorrows. Maybe another time or place. But for now, Mark was content with you in his passenger seat and his hands on the wheel, ready to go anywhere as long as you were at his side.

AUTHOR’S NOTE. hi, it's been a while, hasn't it? i'm slowly writing again, starting with finishing all the drafts that have been sitting in my docs for a hot second! my writing style's change a bit so don't mind the stylistic changes (if you even notice it). i apologize it's short but i didn't have much planned for this one. it's just marky sitting in his thoughts.

TAGLIST. @johtenrecs @bat-shark-repellant  @bebsky @donutswithjaminthemiddle @suhnnyskhies @baekhyuns-lipchain @emmybyeakitty  @sokkigarden @iwishiwasthemoontonight @stvrrynight @ppangjae @luvenshiti @ferxanda @jenosuh​ @mxrcayong-main @lebrookestore​ @the-universe-in-you-jjh @planetkiimchi @hannie-dul-set @kdyism @lovesuhng

reply to this post or send an ask to be added to the taglist!

© sehunniepotwrites, 2023

[starrysnowdrop]

Heyo! So I happened to see your recent ask response regarding Zenos randomly, and, honestly, I'm kind of curious on what people miss about his character! I'm not a personal big fan of him(ngl he kind of creeped me out with his, projecting himself on the wol it felt like? Note I say that as a WHM main who plays as truly heroic WoL(s) most of the time admittedly, so most of his stuff made me go no? alot XD I don't mind people who do like him tho! They're cool!), but I'm interested in understanding him better if possible, cause I know I miss things that others don't and I don't think I've seen anyone explain his intricacies without being somewhat rude about it, but you explained what you did without coming off as that. So I'm kind of curious on that essay you almost wrote if you'd be alright writing it XD (Sorry for being on anon, I am, very shy qwq)

In case you’re not familiar with what this anon is asking about, this is in response to my answer to this ask HERE. Feel free to go read that one and come back!

So, I first want to say thank you for being brave enough to reach out to me about this, even on anon!! I’m really glad that you didn’t find my comments to be rude, as that is the very last thing that I would want! If anyone did find me too abrasive in my previous post above, then I wholeheartedly apologize for that. I would never want anyone to be afraid to reach out to me because I came off as rude at some point, so I appreciate you letting me know that you didn’t think I was. 💖

Alright, now let’s get to the topic at hand: Zenos, and why I truly think that he is the most misunderstood character in FFXIV.

Zenos: The Most Misunderstood Character in FFXIV

((I wrote way too much, so it’s under the cut.))

Alright, so let’s start with what I have seen as the popular take on Zenos that I see as wrong: A lot of players see Zenos as a one dimensional character that has no depth, and doesn’t have a character arc in which he grows as a character. They see him as the annoying antagonist who has a battle boner for the WoL and that’s it. They only see his bloodlust and nothing else. They don’t think there is anything else to him, and that’s where I must strongly disagree.

So, how is he not a one dimensional character? Well, that’s because he really is a complex character, but you need to be paying close attention to what Zenos is actually saying and what his actions are throughout the story.

One can piece together Zenos’ complexity purely from watching the cutscenes, but just in case anyone is curious about going into more depth on his backstory, then I highly recommend that you go read his side story from the Chronicles of Light book entitled “The Hunt Begins”. It shows how Zenos was raised, and it reinforces why he thinks the way that he does.

Without going into his backstory too much, for brevity's sake, Zenos is actually a prodigy, someone who was born with not only incredible strength, but also incredible intelligence, and you know what happens when gifted kids don't get enough of a challenge? Yup, they get easily bored. So keep that in mind as we move along. Now, mix that boredom with a good dose of Anhedonia, or the inability to experience pleasure or joy. Now we aren't sure if he was born with Anhedonia, or if he acquired it through some mental health condition, such as PTSD, depression, etc. I'm no psychologist whatsoever, so I'm not here to diagnose Zenos with any particular disorder, but it is clear that he suffers from the lack of feeling joy or pleasure in his life.

This is actually what characterizes Zenos the most when we first are introduced to him in 4.0; he is suffering from Anhedonia AND Ennui, which according to Webster's Dictionary, is not just a feeling of weariness and dissatisfaction, but its a profound sense of boredom that arises from feeling jaded with one's life.

Zenos is suffering from a lack of joy and pleasure in his life, seeing the world as meaningless and dull, and he has found only one sole pleasure in all of it: The Hunt*. But what he means by The Hunt, is that he wants to fight the most challenging foes, challenging enough that he must put his all into the battle and be pushed to the brink of death. Only this kind of challenging battle will give him any sense of joy at all. For him at this point, there has been nothing else which has brought him joy, so he seeks out this sole pleasure.

And THAT is what Zenos' motivation is. He is not mindless in his pursuit of battle. His bloodlust stems from the desire to feel some kind of happiness at all, and unlike what some might think, not any foe will do. Zenos does not fight mindlessly against anyone at any time. That is not true. If an enemy is no threat to him, unless they purposely get in his way, he will not fight them.

This is true from the first time you see Zenos on the battlefield. At Rhalgr's Reach, Zenos sought out only the strongest fighters there, and two of them (Lyse and Y'shtola) got in his way first, and he defeated them easily. When he fights the WoL, the one who he has heard so much about, and definitely the strongest opponent among them, he becomes curious and hopes that we will give him what he wants. But in that first battle with him, he swats the WoL away like a fly, and they pose no challenge to him at all, to which he calls them "Pathetic", and then he immediately leaves, ultimately disappointed.

Note that Zenos had every opportunity to kill Lyse, Y’shtola, and the WoL if he wanted to, but he doesn’t. He leaves them alone after he defeats them. That’s not the sign of someone who is so sadistic that he’s only out for blood. The fact of the matter here is that Zenos is trying to feel something from battle, something that he has never experienced before: pure joy.

Zenos doesn’t experience this joy until he fights the WoL again several times; first he gets just a hint of it, a tiny spark, when the WoL breaks a piece of his helmet off, and he feels it even more later on when Zenos fights the WoL in the Ala Mhigan throne room. This is when Zenos goes into his monologue before he releases and takes over Shinryu, and note that the joy and pleasure he is describing seems to have a sexual tone to it, which I promise I have a point to make about that in a bit.

After the battle with Zenos as Shinryu, he finally feels the joy that he has never felt in his entire life, and because he doesn’t think he’ll ever feel anything like it ever again, Zenos takes his own life, happy to have played a bit part in the story of his “first friend”.

But as we know, Zenos doesn’t stay dead. He finds himself alive once more, and he has a singular goal: to feel that pure bliss, that overwhelming joy that he felt when he fought the WoL in the Royal Menagerie in Ala Mhigo. From ShB through EW, Zenos’ goal doesn’t change, but he does change in his understanding of what it means to have a “friend” and how he can feel happiness.

During EW, Zenos has several scenes where his understanding of his feelings seems to grow, and though that sexual tone to his descriptions of what he’s feeling towards his battle with the WoL is still there, I would argue that over time, it seems to have more and more of a romantic tone to it as well. And with this shift in his tone when describing his feelings, he also seems to question his understanding of it all.

Zenos’ character growth is the whole point of two very important scenes: the Scions and Jullus encountering Zenos in Garlemald while fighting the blasphemies, and later when Zenos goes to the Royal Menagerie alone. The first of these scenes reinforces the themes of EW with Zenos’ philosophy of life, but it is also the first time that someone says something that makes Zenos question his beliefs.

Alisaie’s words to Zenos hit him hard, and Zenos goes back to the Royal Menagerie, to the scene of where he had his one transcendent moment, his one time in his life when he felt joy, pleasure, and happiness. He realizes in this moment that, whatever you believe Zenos’ true feelings are for the WoL, which I personally argue that it is love that he feels for them, but regardless, Zenos cannot continue to be selfish and only think about his own wants and desires. He must act selflessly, and assist in the WoL’s battle against the Endsinger and stop the Final Days, in order for the WoL to give him what he wants in return. He finally realizes that it’s this give and take, this reciprocation between people, is the key to building bonds with others… Zenos finally learns what it is to be a “friend” to someone. After this moment, Zenos goes to Sharlayan to find a way to help out the WoL in their mission to save the star, and to finally be a friend to them.

And you know what that is? That’s growth. That’s having a character arc. That’s Zenos in all of his complexity. Which I still say that it’s perfectly fine to not like his character, but I only wish that people would not like him with a clear understanding of what he really is, and not what others think he is.

Alright, I think I have blabbed on long enough, but I hope that I have answered your question anon! If you need me to clarify anything further, please don’t hesitate to ask me! Thank you so much for your ask anon, and thank you to all who have read this! 💖

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Follow You Anywhere 5

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

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

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

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: still sick but still craving dick.

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

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

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

You drain the glass of water and cling to it. You’re at a loss of what to do next. You’re not just trapped by this man, you’re bound up in fear. It’s a real life horror movie. 

You stand and blink long and hard, trying to steady yourself. You turn, your legs stiff and straight, your movement slow as if walking through sludge. You stop and sway as you find Sy watching you from the doorway. 

No wonder you never noticed him before. He’s so quiet, you didn’t even know he was still in the room. Well, he is a soldier after all. That fact chills you more than anything. Even if you were more formidable, you still wouldn’t have a hope. 

He wears only a pair of thin gym shorts, low on his hips and displaying his thick stomach. He’s not really fat, just burly. He’s got hair fron chest to waistline, his stomach boxy with muscle but not perfectly defined. His arms are hug and bulge without flexing. 

You gulp and look down at the empty glass and walk forward. 

“I can get that, sweetie,” he offers as you come close. 

“No, it’s okay,” you murmur, “I gotta... finish up a few things anyhow.” 

He doesn’t move. His large body blocks the exit and you poke your tongue out to wet your dry lips. His eyes narrow on your mouth and he releases a heavy exhale. 

“Excuse me,” you voice quavers, “I’m just tryna... get past.” 

“Sweetie, you sound tired, maybe you should lay down,” he reaches for you and you flinch. You see him hesitate before he closes the gap, rubbing your arm with his large hand. “Hm, I could rub your feet, we could talk. We got a lot of catching up to do.” 

“I... M-maybe later, this project is a big one,” you lie. It’s really nothing. A sixty-dollar edit you could do in your sleep. “It’s a bit early, anyway, right?” 

His hand lingers as he looks down at you. His thick fingertips flutter up your shoulder and along your neck. He turns his knuckles to graze your throat before he frames your chin. 

“You’re much prettier in person, you know that?” He purrs, “especially when you smile.” 

Your lip quivers as goosebumps raise on the back of your arms, “thanks, Sy. Um, sorry, can I get through?” 

He rubs your jaw with his thumb and tilts his head. Finally he drops his hand and sighs, smacking the side of his leg as he backs up, angling to offer just enough room for your escape. As you step out, you can’t help but brush against him. 

“Mmm,” he hums, “you smell like flowers.” 

You grip the glass even tighter, “thanks.” 

“Everything about you is just so...” he trails after you, right at your heels, “perfect.” 

You don’t know what to say to that. It’s a sweet compliment but it really doesn’t feel like it. He follows you to the kitchen, once more planting himself in the doorway, his hand on the frame as he watches you. You cough and rinse the glass, leaving it beside the sink. 

You face him again and wring your hands. As you near, he moves without being told. You skirt around him and sit at the table. You try not to shake as you open the laptop. You pause but resist the urge to look around. Where’s your phone? 

You do your best to bottle up every thought. You don't want him to sense your panic. You need to stay calm until a chance comes up. You don’t know what or when, but it has to. 

You click onto Adobe Suite and reload the same project as before. He just stands there, by the wall. You're too nervous to check if he’s looking at you.  

You hear a peculiar tapping and Aika slithers past her owner. As she approaches, you swallow and brace yourself. She sits beside you and puts her head in your lap. You gape down, in relief and surprise, and daintily touch her head. 

“She likes you a lot,” he beams and walks around the other side of the table. He drags a chair out and sits, “I told her all about you. She was over there too. Sniffin’ out IEDs.” 

“Oh,” you glance at him over the laptop. “Wow.” 

A pang stabs your chest. For a moment, you feel bad for him. You can’t begin to imagine what he saw in a war. You presume being far from home is never easy but that’s all so much more intense. 

“Yeah, tough, but we made it through,” he proclaims, “easier to get on when you got something to come home to.” 

You nod and look at the screen. This is all sorts of messed up. How stupid are you? Why couldn’t you just keep a journal? Why did you have to stream your stupid life to the stupid internet? You just assumed that no one would care. Like usual. 

You drag your fingers around the touch pad, trying to focus on the actual work. That's the only real escape you have. You need to think about anything else. 

“I thought... I thought you made your money from your videos,” he says as pushes his shoulders back, his figure broader than the chair. 

“Mm, no. Um, you know, not many viewers. I edit for other people. Pictures, videos,” you answer. It’s easier to talk when you keep it clinical. “Weddings, stuff like that.” 

“Ah,” he sniffs, “well, not about how many followers you got, just that they’re good people, huh?” 

“Sure, uh, yeah,” you sputter. 

“You okay, sweetie?” His tone sharpens. 

“Sorry, I'm just... working,” your lip twitches. “You know, I just... wasn’t expecting... you. I usually work um, between videos, and I didn’t plan on doing anymore today.” 

“Huh,” he pokes his tongue into his cheek, “but you usually do one. One early, one late.” 

You shift and Aika nuzzles your thighs, huffing until your pet her again. You bite the inside of your lip as your face singes, “right, but I’m a little behind...” 

He’s quiet. You feel him staring. He probably can see right through your lies. 

“You’re a hard worker, sweetie, I woulda guessed so,” he stands and the chair scrapes loudly, making you wince, “let me get outta your way. I can wait a bit longer.” 

You don’t look up as his shadows blurs along the edge of your vision. You wait until it fades away before you dare to peek. The TV comes back to life and you exhale. It’s not exactly freedom, just room to breathe. 

🧸

You are anything but behind. You’re so desperate to dissociate, that you breeze through your current projects. In the background, Sy lurks, the couch creaking as he sits up, his footfalls against the floor as he paces, and the little clicks and clacks of his curiosity as he looks around your place. 

As your eyes begin to glaze over from the glare, he appears on the other side of the table, “hungry, sweetie?” 

You’re not. You shrug, not wanting to give the wrong answer. 

“I could order something. I know you just shopped and all but I don’t mind.” 

“You know, that’s nice but I’m still full from breakfast.” 

“Ah, yeah, that was a big one,” he agrees, “you know, those field rations made me a bit of a glutton once I got back to civilization.” 

“Oh. You’re welcome to cook for yourself or something,” you offer. 

“You gonna stay on that all night,” he points at the computer, “that sh—the light can’t be good for your eyes.” 

“No, um, I... just finished.” 

You close the laptop reluctantly. You hear the edge creeping into his timbre. He’s getting impatient. 

“Well, if you’re not hungry, how about I run you a bath? You’re tense, you should relax, sweetie,” his hands go to his hips and tugs up his shorts just a little. 

“Sure...” you murmur. 

He goes before you can say anything else. What else can you say? He’s crazy and it’s becoming more obvious by the minute. Maybe you are too for not screaming at him to leave you alone. 

Aika exhales and falls onto her side, stretching her long legs as she relaxes. Right, he’s not the only one you have to worry about. You get up and clasp your hands together. You walk around the table, once, twice, three times. 

You hear the faucet and shudder. You stop and look at Aika then the door. You could sneak out right then. Tell your neighbour there’s an intruder in your home. With all his things and his dog. And they would see him walking in with you on the cameras like everything was all good. 

Right. It’s an option but not better than the current one. You’re more likely to piss him off than get rid of him. 

“Got it running for ya,” he comes out and you push your hands down, fighting own your fear. 

“Thanks,” you say as you cross the room, “that’s so sweet.” 

“Yeah, sweetie, no problem,” he nears and you keep from shying away, “I’m just tryna take care of you.” 

“I... really appreciate it,” you eke out. 

“You just take your time,” he runs his hands up and down your arms. “Mm,” he bites his lip, “you’re just so pretty. I can’t believe you’re real.” 

Your chest wracks and your head swells. You can’t believe he’s real either. 

You force a smile and freeze as you sense him leaning in. He kisses the top of your head and purrs, “you just go get nice and fresh.” 

He releases you and reluctantly lets you go. You sidle past him cautiously. You don’t look back as you head for the bathroom. You shut the door behind you and let the air free from your lungs. Holy crud. 

You go to the tub and stare in at the rising water. You wait for it to fill up before you shake the daze. You undress and slide into the water. You lean back and grip the edges. The world is surreal. 

You’re too restless to enjoy the warmth. Usually you would find a bath soothing. You often take them with a candle burning and your favourite soap bubbled over the surface. You don’t think you’ll ever know peace again. 

You sit up and hug your knees. You sit like that for a while. You want to fall apart right there but you know you can’t. The thing that helped you so much has doomed you. 

You pull the stopper and get out. The water’s just making you cold. You dry off and wrap the towel around you. You pick up your clothes and go to the door, pressing your ear to listen to the other side. 

You turn the handle slowly and ease it inch by inch. He’s not there. You tiptoe out, vigilant as you cross the room. You turn into the bedroom and nearly let out a yelp. You didn’t really think he’d left but you could hope. 

“These are real cute,” he lays down the button up silk pajama shirt with the matching shorts. 

“Oh, uh, sure, um...” 

“Should be nice and comfy,” he faces you with a grin. 

“Well, uh, yeah, but...” you begin to argue. You don’t really sleep in those ones, you more lounge around. “Thanks.” 

You keep your arms across your chest, the tower firmly clutched around you. You look down at the set as he remains close. You wait. Is he gonna go? 

“Aren’t ya gonna put them on?” 

“Sure, uh,” you grab them, your other hand fisted around the top of the towel, “I’ll just go do that.” 

“You don’t gotta be shy with me,” he purrs, “but I guess you’re a nice girl, huh. You like to take it slow.” 

You press your lips together, “mhm.” 

You back away, wanting to run in the other direction. You turn at the door and leave him there. You can’t help but feel he’s already seen too much. 

You flit back to the bathroom and lock yourself in. You are about to combust. You tremble as you pull on the shorts, then the shirt. You hang the towel and linger by the door. 

He's really not going to leave. For whatever reason, you hoped he might call it a night and go. Why would he do that? He doesn’t do sane things. 

“Sweetie,” the knock on the door makes you jump. “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, fine,” you squeak. 

The door handle wiggles. You flick the lock back and he pushes it open from the other side. He lets go of the handle and steps back, his eyes roving up and down your body. 

“Ah, sugar, you look... look real... good,” his voice is smoky as he spreads his hand over his chest. “Sweet little thing, just wanna eat you—up!” 

He surprises you as suddenly he has you off your feet. He has his arms around you as he lifts you and carries you away from the bathroom door. You yelp and hit his shoulder, wriggling and kicking. Oh no! 

“Sy, please, no,” you cry out but he ignores you, “no, no, no...” you panic finally overflow and your eyes glisten. He takes you into the bedroom and your heart pounds feverishly, “please...” you wisp before he tosses you on the bed, “don’t hurt me!” 

You bounce on the mattress and hold your hand up, bracing for his next move. When it doesn’t come, you part your fingers and look at him through them. He watches you with a line in his forehead. 

“You think I’m gonna hurt you?” He rasps. 

“I... you just caught me off guard,” you push yourself up on your elbows, “I didn’t--” 

“I was just playing,” he frowns, “having some fun with my girl. Wanted some snuggles, is all.” 

Despite it all, you actually feel bad. He sounds genuinely hurt. You sit up all the way and pout up at him, “Sy,” you utter softly, “I’m tired, I’m sorry.” 

He inhales so his broad chest rises and blows it out as he rubs his shaves head. He drops his hand and sniffs, “yeah, me too. Been a long day.” 

“So... so...” you quaver as you grasp at the last of your courage, “let’s just sleep it off.” 

His jaw ticks and he tilts his head until you hear a pop, “yeah, you’re right, sweetie. Think I just got overexcited.” 

You flutter your lashes as you hold back the wave of relief. It dissipates as soon as it rises. This isn’t over. You have a whole night ahead of you and brand new day. 

[truly-neutral-art]

Din/Luke Pacific Rim AU pt.2

Pt.1 | Pt.3 | Pt.4

Another addition to this AU because It's been living in my head rent free for ages. I can't do a Pacific Rim AU without recreating the iconic Kwoon scene. Also, I was too lazy to draw backgrounds so I just stole them from the movie  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Under the cut is a teaser of the fic I'm trying to write. It's a first draft, so there's probably some mistakes. Also, I'm still kind of in Screen Writing mode from school, so please don't mind if there's not a lot of internal character narration.

“Four points to two,” Luke calls after the final candidate falls. His emotions are carefully masked on his face but Din can see how tense he is. 

“We’re wasting time, Marshal. He’s barely compatible with any of them, this isn’t going to work,” Luke says.

“What do you suggest?” The Marshal raises a brow. 

“Put me in charge, I’m drift compatible with several cadets. We don’t need him.” Luke gestures towards Din. The look on his face makes Din’s blood boil. Contempt. What did he ever do to Luke to earn this?

“What’s your problem, Skywalker?” Din stomps towards the edge of the mat. 

“I’ve already told you, I don’t think you're the right man for the job,” Luke replies. He’s now turned squarely towards Din, his face back to that eerie calm. It sends a shiver down Din’s spine. 

“No, there’s more. You’ve got a problem with me.” Din steps closer, trying to ignore the piercing blue of Luke’s eyes. 

“Enough! both of you.” Marshal Skywalker turns to them both. 

“If you think you’re so much better, then let’s go.” Din points his bō at Luke. “If you win, you can pilot the Crest. If I win, you back off.” Din holds Luke's gaze, projecting his challenge. 

“Neither of you are in the position to make that decision,” Anakin states, breaking the spell. 

“What? Think your own blood isn’t good enough to beat me?” Din didn’t know Marshal Skywalker that well, but from what he did know, the man was prideful. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest move, but it got him what he wanted. 

The Martial turned towards Luke, earning his attention. No words were exchanged between them, the Martial simply gave a nod. A brief look of satisfaction washed over Luke’s face. Din turned towards the mat to prepare for the fight before Luke’s eyes turned back to him. 

Luke stepped to the edge of the mat, shoes and outer shirt removed. He bowed at the waist before stepping forward. He was in a simple black tank top and the standard cargo pants. It was the first time Din had seen any of his skin exposed beyond his face. His arms and neck were covered in pale, lightning-like scars that looked like they extended beyond what Din could see. He wasn’t sure what to make of them. He knew almost nothing about Luke when he really thought about it. Only what he heard from the news from the past four years.

He had to admit, it made him earn a little more respect for the kid. At first he’d seemed like a petulant child who was getting his favorite toy taken away, but now, Din wasn’t as sure that was the case. He had no more time to think on it as he and Luke passed each other on the mat, walking to opposite sides, then turning to face each other. 

In the blink of an eye Luke swung his bō with the finesse of a warrior. He moved forward before stopping in the middle of the mat as he pulled his bō up in defense. Din followed suit, taking on a more aggressive starting position. He could tell Luke was analyzing him, eyes flitting around to every point of his body. Din took the opportunity to attack. In one swift moment he had his bō mimicking a strike at Luke’s skull. 

“One, Zero.” The words had barely left his mouth before Luke made a counter attack. In a flash Luke had reversed their positions with a satisfied smirk. 

Without wasting any more time the two began to fight again in an explosion of movement. The people in the kwoon reacted to them, but Din’s focus narrowed in until it was only them in the room. He watched Luke’s movements carefully, anticipating and blocking every attack that came and returning his own. He picked up on a franticness in Lukes’s movements and took advantage, landing an attack on his ribs. 

“You’re too eager, you’re projecting your moves,” Din commented as they reset. 

“I don’t need your advice.” Despite his words, Luke waited, ready for Din’s next move. 

Luke swiftly blocked everything Din threw at him and pushed back even harder. In the next moment Luke attacked with a flurry of blows, catching Din off guard. He was stronger than he looked. 

“Two, two.” Luke had once again evened the score. 

There was barely a pause before they were at it again. This bout lasted longer than the others, both having picked up on each other’s gambit. They danced around each other, the only sound in Din’s ears were the clacking of their bō staffs and their heavy breathing. Neither was holding back. 

In a blur of motion Luke darted towards Din’s legs, throwing him off balance. Din rolled out of the throw but as he lifted his head he was met with Luke’s bō to his throat. Luke's eyes were no less intense this close. 

“Two, Three.” Luke stepped back into a ready position. “Better watch out, Djarin.” There was a satisfied smirk on his face. He was winning. Din wouldn’t give up that easily. 

He pulled out every trick he had, but Luke seemed to always be a step ahead. He was too fast, almost as if he could read Din’s mind. From the outside it would almost look like this was rehearsed. In the end, it was Din’s weight advantage that won him the point. He moved in close and pinned Luke's arm before throwing him down to the mat. The blond hit the ground on his back, breath escaping his lungs from the impact. 

Din almost went to help him up but Luke threw his legs backwards into a handstand before standing back up. He barely looked affected, the only sign of fatigue on him was the sweat on his forehead that matted down his blond hair. 

“Three, Three,” Din called. “And there’s no need to show off.” 

The next point would declare a winner. There was a smile on Luke’s face, different from the ones before. This one was more open, leaving Din feeling dizzy instead of insulted. 

Din tried to understand it but there was no more time to ponder as Luke set on his next attacks. He was more aggressive than he’d been the rest of the fight but Din pushed back, not without some difficulty. Luke danced around Din with a frightening agility. The only thing that kept Din in the fight for so long were his reflexes. He knew he had to end this fight soon or Luke would eventually wear him down. 

In a decisive move Din attacked at Luke’s head, trading off his defense for offense. He had Luke on the move, nearly pushing him off the mat. However, before he could land a finishing blow Luke darted to the side, slipping his leg between Din’s and toppling him to the floor. When Din processed what happened, he was pinned under Luke’s hips on his chest and his bō at his neck. 

Cheers erupted from the gathered crowd, but Din’s view had narrowed into Luke as he stood up. Din stayed on the ground, still a bit stunned from the end of the fight. He wasn’t really sure how to feel about its outcome. But one thing was for certain, he and Luke were drift compatible. Very drift compatible. 

Din was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t even realize Luke was reaching down to him until his hand was in his face. He took it and allowed Luke to help him to his feet. 

“You felt it too, didn’t you?” Luke asked.

“Yeah.”

[markliving]

TURN OVER [2]

pairing: bestfriend brother!gojo satoru x geto!reader, platonic!geto suguru x reader

warnings: overprotetive brother!geto suguru, some angst, nanami is bestfriend of reader, satoru is a idiot in love, reader is one year younger that satoru and geto, mentions of alcohol, all the character are of legal age

words: 926 (part two)

synopse: Satoru did not fall in love easily; in fact, there was only one person who truly occupied his heart and mind: you. However, there was a small problem—you were Suguru's younger sister, his best friend, who fiercely protected you from any dubious intentions. So, he found himself trapped between two choices: maintaining his friendship with Geto and losing you, or ending a lifelong friendship with Geto and having the chance to possibly take you out.

a/n: hello! i'm back with one more part of this history! this one is a little shorter, but important to what comes next. Let me know if you guys want to be tagget in the next chapters.

masterlist | part one | part two | part three | part four |

The second time Satoru was sure he was going to freak out thinking about you.

This time, he was alone with you at your house, without Suguru or Ieri to make him nervous.

"If you take a picture, it lasts longer, Toru," you joked, trying to break the weird tension between you two.

You were sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch while looking at your laptop on the coffee table. College had barely started, and it was already driving you crazy, with projects piling up. But with Satoru staring nonstop, it was a little hard to concentrate with those blue eyes practically piercing your soul.

He seemed to push aside whatever thoughts were in his head and turned his attention back to the program playing on the TV.

Deciding to end whatever was happening, you closed your laptop and turned to him.

"What’s going on, Toru?"

Satoru looked at you again, letting out what seemed to be a sigh.

"Why are they taking so long? I’m starting to get bored..." A pout appeared on his lips, making him look like a ten-year-old with nothing to do.

"There’s a sink full of dishes to wash… or you can tell me what’s overloading that pretty little head of yours," you smiled, standing up and moving to the empty spot on the couch next to him before sitting down.

You poked his side, earning what sounded like a laugh disguised as a scream.

Gojo had been caught off guard; he hadn’t expected you to notice that he was distant, lost in a parallel world — one where, perhaps, you were lying on the couch together, cuddling, whispering sweet words to each other. Not that you had any idea what was going on in his imaginative mind.

Another sigh escaped his lips. This time, he was looking at the ceiling, his head resting against the couch.

"I never thought I’d say this…" He was extremely nervous, but his brain couldn’t control what was about to come out of his mouth. "But I think I’m in love."

You couldn’t lie — never in a million years did you expect that. Gojo had a reputation as a player. Ever since you were kids, he had always attracted attention from both girls and boys, mainly because of his blue eyes and snow-white hair. He had always seemed uninterested when it came to relationships. There was even a time when it looked like he had finally found the love of his life, but suddenly, they broke up, and Satoru never spoke about it again.

"What?" Your mouth fell slightly open in surprise.

He flashed his signature grin, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment.

"You know how it is… everyone falls in love someday…"

Just as it seemed like he was about to start a monologue about how he was human and bound to fall in love at some point, his phone rang.

It was Suguru.

"Gojo, why isn’t my sister answering her phone?" As soon as he brought the phone to his ear, Geto spoke in an unamused tone.

Satoru glanced at you, checking if you had your phone in hand or nearby, but nothing.

"Maybe because she got tired of hearing your voice…"

"Gojo!"

"Or maybe she just doesn’t want to talk to you!"

Satoru could imagine the sour expression Geto was making on the other end of the line, almost making him burst into laughter at the thought, but he figured it was best not to annoy his friend any further.

"Listen up, Satoru! If you’re doing anything to—" Before the other could finish, Satoru hung up, not wanting to hear whatever was about to come out of Geto’s mouth.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to figure out who was on the other end of the call. Then, noticing the way Gojo spoke and flashed an inexplicable smile, you came to the conclusion that it was probably Suguru.

"What did he want?" you asked.

"I think you should check your phone."

Examining his expression and, unfortunately, not detecting anything unusual, you got up from the couch and started searching for your phone all over the house.

Satoru watched the scene with amusement, but his moment of joy was short-lived when you suddenly reappeared.

"TORU!" You looked ecstatic, your eyes wide as you stared at the screen of your phone, a sweet smile adorning your lips.

He was almost certain that if he had heart problems, his heart wouldn’t have survived the scare your sudden scream had given him.

"I have a date!"

You turned the phone screen toward him so he could see the messages. However, Satoru was in complete shock. Not because you had a date, but because he wasn’t the one who had asked you out.

He opened and closed his mouth several times, but no sound came out.

He quickly realized that the smile you had worn just moments ago had turned into a frown, and your face had gone blank. He couldn’t quite figure out what you were feeling or thinking, but he knew his reaction wasn’t the best.

He was completely screwed.

You lowered your phone as soon as you noticed the strange look on his face, and suddenly, something clicked inside you.

Why wasn’t he reacting at all?

You were his friend — why didn’t he seem even slightly happy for you?

The answer was right in front of you, but you didn’t see it.

He wasn't happy because that smile of happiness, that celebration for being asked out, wasn't for him.

It wasn't Satoru.