#is deeply poetic and it FITS

[impossible-rat-babies]

not to talk about a game being an mmo, but like. i think ppl forget 14 is an mmo and thus there is a grind

[justabiteofspite]

"Astarion doesn't do big romantic gestures."

My Durge still trying to get graveyard dirt out of her ass crack after being lovingly pounded into it by Astarion who wanted to share with her this deeply joyful and meaningful reclamation of himself after sharing a vulnerable declaration of his love, at this place he hasn't shown anyone else but her: "Then what the actual fuck was that???"

[where-nothing-is-tagged]

im not going to be overly critical or say too much yet because I feel like I don't have enough info and I haven't read enough of this to really say anything major but I think a lot of the things I'm personally not liking so far seem really reminiscent to me of all the things I didn't like in oshiro's works, there's a similar quality and pattern to the things that are making me go :/ that aligns pretty well imo with the patterns that made me go :/ in his works I read in prep for that which sucks because I really want to enjoy what oshiro brings to the table... I dont want to call any of it "flaws" as there's definitely a point where art is just subjective (I mean he's a publishes author so he's doing something right for sure) but there's these same "hang ups" that keep appearing that's just not good? it's like reading a poem and nothing is clicking and it's not like I don't get it, I can understand what's being put in front of me, it's just... not good.... oof... it's like all the issues beginners make in writing to me.... there's no emotion there's no depth there's no build there's no reconnection of the story to deeper themes there's nothing that makes your breath catch or your heart stop or even to make you laugh- if you can't be emotionally introspective at least be funny...? I feel like each of us a desert was at least somewhat better than this because it was a world and characters oshiro designed themselves and he knew how to play with and that creates some semi-interesting and semi-unique concepts and plots and characters but instead here we have oshiro being handed dolls and a world he didn't build so of course it comes off like fanfic and it's just.... Will feels like arm candy rather than a person, there's more telling than showing going on....

[apollogeticx]

✧˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ DUMB & POETIC ♡·˚

— [♡] ; you sprouted love like flowers, growing a garden in your mind and watering the petals with every unshed tear. ｡°. gojo satoru

tags: hanahaki disease, fem!reader, fluff, slow burn, angst, hurt/comfort, emotional growth, vulnerable gojo satoru, recovered feelings, love after trauma, reconciliation, slow healing, happy ending, chapter three of four!

wc. 4.1K

↳ part 1 | part 2 | part 4

Returning to your usual routine felt strange, like slipping into clothes that no longer quite fit. The petals were gone, your chest no longer a battlefield of pain and breathlessness, but everything around you seemed different—distant, unfamiliar. You were different now, too.

There was an emptiness inside you where the love for Gojo had once been, and though you had chosen to let it go, it left a hollow ache in its absence, one that wasn’t quite pain, but wasn’t quite peace either.

Your classmates had been worried during your absence, though you hadn’t realized just how much until you returned. The moment you stepped into the common area, Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara had practically ambushed you, their faces a mixture of relief and curiosity. They didn’t ask for details, but you could see the concern etched in their eyes. They had missed you, and in their own way, they had been afraid for you.

“Welcome back!” Yuji had shouted with a grin, throwing his arms around you in a tight hug before you could protest.

Nobara had slapped him away, her voice sharp but affectionate. “Don’t suffocate her, idiot! She just got back.”

You smiled, something warm and bittersweet flickering in your chest. It was odd, being the center of attention like this, but it was genuine. They cared about you, and for once, you didn’t feel invisible.

It was Yuji’s idea to throw a small party—just something casual, a way to celebrate your return and ease you back into things. It was held in one of the dorm common areas, with snacks and music and the comfortable chaos that always followed when the group got together. Megumi sat in his usual quiet corner, pretending to be annoyed by Yuji and Nobara’s antics, while the two of them argued over who was better at throwing a surprise.

It should have felt normal, but there was an odd undercurrent to everything. The laughter and lightheartedness of the party felt like it was happening in a different world, one you could only observe from the outside. You were here, back with your friends, but everything felt just a little… off. Like you were living someone else’s life.

Gojo wasn’t there.

Yuji hadn’t invited him, which made sense—nobody knew you and Gojo had any kind of connection beyond teacher and student. To your classmates, there was no reason for Gojo to be involved in your recovery. You hadn’t been particularly close to him before, and there was no visible sign of what had happened between you two. No one knew how close Gojo had been to your side during your illness, how he had tried to help even when he couldn’t. No one knew that your love for him had nearly killed you.

He hadn’t even been a topic of conversation at the party. Everyone was too focused on celebrating your return, on making sure you felt welcomed and cared for. But you felt the absence of his presence, that strange void where your feelings for him had been. Even though the surgery had taken away the love that had once suffocated you, the memories lingered.

You had once loved him so deeply that it had torn your body apart, flowers blooming in your lungs, choking you with every breath. And yet now, standing here surrounded by your friends, the love was gone. The pain was gone. And Gojo… was on the sidelines.

As the party went on, you found yourself glancing toward the windows, half-expecting to see him there, lurking in the shadows with that familiar casual smirk. You knew he wouldn’t show up, not after what had happened. He had given you space, but the quiet knowledge of his absence felt strange. He had been such a presence in your life for so long, even if it had been from a distance. Now that you no longer carried that weight in your heart, it was like a piece of your world had been quietly removed.

Yuji and Nobara were arguing again, this time over the playlist, their voices rising in playful banter. Megumi sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes as if to say, *This is my life now.*

You smiled softly, but it didn’t reach your eyes.

As the night went on, you found yourself stepping outside for a moment, the noise and laughter inside becoming too much. You leaned against the cool wall of the dormitory, taking a deep breath of the crisp evening air. It felt refreshing, but empty.

You didn’t miss the pain. You didn’t miss the flowers or the coughing, or the slow, suffocating death that had been consuming you. But there was something about the absence of love that left you feeling… untethered. You had built so much of your world around those feelings, even though they had been unrequited, even though they had been the source of your suffering.

Now, standing outside in the quiet, you realized just how much had changed.

Gojo hadn’t just been your teacher—he had been the center of your world, even if only from afar. And now that he wasn’t, you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

The door creaked open behind you, and you turned to see Megumi step outside, his usual frown in place. He gave you a small nod, then leaned against the wall beside you without saying a word. It was a quiet, comforting presence, one that didn’t demand anything of you. He didn’t ask how you were feeling or what had happened. He just… existed with you, in the moment.

“Strange, isn’t it?” he said after a while, his voice low. “Being back.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the quiet understanding in his words. “Yeah,” you admitted softly. “It’s… weird.”

He nodded, not pressing further, and the two of you stood in silence for a while longer. It was comforting, in its own way, but the emptiness inside you still lingered.

Maybe it always would.

As you looked up at the night sky, the stars shining faintly above, you couldn’t help but wonder where Gojo was at that moment. You knew he was close by—he never went too far from his students, from the school. But you hadn’t seen him since your surgery, since that quiet, heartbreaking moment when you had told him that you didn’t love him anymore.

And the strangest part? You couldn’t even feel sad about it. The love was gone, and with it, the grief.

But the memory of that love… that was something you would carry forever. Even if no one else knew. Even if Gojo himself never spoke of it again.

Gojo stood on the rooftop of the school, his usual spot when he wanted to be alone, when the weight of everything around him became too much to carry. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, and his blindfold was pulled down over his eyes, though it did nothing to block out what he could see—the world beneath him, the cursed energy of everyone around him, flickering like lights in the distance.

He knew the party was happening downstairs. He knew exactly where you were. He hadn’t been invited, of course, which made sense to everyone except him. To Yuji and the others, you were just another student, someone he barely knew beyond the occasional glance during class. They didn’t know what had really happened. They didn’t know how close things had come to falling apart.

They didn’t know how much he had noticed—how much he had tried to help, even when there was nothing he could do.

He leaned against the railing, letting out a slow breath as he stared into the night sky, though his mind was far from the stars. The memory of your confession—of how deeply you had loved him, enough to let it nearly kill you—played over and over again in his head. And now, it was gone. You were alive, and that was all that mattered, right?

But the truth was, it didn’t feel that simple.

Gojo wasn’t used to this feeling—the helplessness that had gripped him when he found out about your hanahaki, when he’d watched you struggle, suffer, knowing that your love for him had been the cause. He’d always been the one with the answers, the one who could fix things with a flick of his hand or a burst of cursed energy. But this—this was different. Love wasn’t something he could fight or control, and that terrified him in a way he wouldn’t admit to anyone.

The memory of your face, pale and exhausted, haunted him. He’d been there when Shoko had told you about the surgery, and the look in your eyes when you realized what you’d have to give up… it had hit him harder than he expected. You’d chosen to live, to let go of your feelings for him, and part of him knew that was the right choice.

But the other part—the selfish part—couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if things had been different. What if he’d noticed sooner? What if he’d been able to stop it before the flowers had started blooming in your chest? What if… what if you still loved him?

He pushed that thought away as quickly as it came. It didn’t matter now. What was done was done. You were back, alive and recovering, and that was what mattered. You were moving on, returning to your life, and he had to do the same.

And yet, despite knowing all of that, Gojo couldn’t bring himself to go down to the party. He couldn’t just pretend that everything was normal, that you were just another student. You weren’t. Not anymore.

The wind blew softly across the rooftop, carrying the sound of laughter from below. He could hear Yuji’s voice, loud and full of energy, and Nobara’s sharp retorts, followed by Megumi’s quiet, tired sighs. He could even hear you—your voice softer, but still there, mingling with the others as if nothing had changed.

But Gojo knew better. Everything had changed.

He had stood by your side during those last few days before the surgery, watching you struggle to breathe, watching the flowers bloom in your lungs, knowing that you had loved him so deeply it was killing you. He hadn’t known what to say then, hadn’t known how to handle the weight of your feelings. Gojo had always kept his distance from things like that—emotions, love, vulnerability. He wasn’t meant for those things. His world was built on power and control, not feelings that could destroy someone from the inside out.

And now… now he wondered if that distance had been a mistake.

He couldn’t help but replay the moment in his mind, the moment you had looked at him, pale and exhausted, and told him that you didn’t love him anymore. The surgery had taken away the flowers, the pain, the love. You had been so calm when you said it, so certain, but it had shaken him. For the first time in a long time, Gojo didn’t know what to do.

Because he didn’t realize, not until that moment, that maybe he hadn’t wanted you to stop loving him.

It wasn’t that he returned your feelings—he wasn’t even sure he could love someone the way you had loved him—but there had been something about your quiet, unspoken affection that had anchored him in a way he didn’t fully understand. And now it was gone, erased by the surgery that had saved your life.

Gojo sighed, running a hand through his hair, pushing the blindfold up just enough to let the night air brush against his skin. He wasn’t used to feeling this conflicted. Usually, he knew exactly what to do, how to act, how to handle any situation. But this was different. This wasn’t something he could fight or fix. It was done. You had made your choice, and now he had to live with it.

But that didn’t make it any easier.

From the corner of his vision, he saw movement—someone stepping outside the dorm. He didn’t need to look closely to know it was you. He could sense your energy from anywhere, even now, even after everything had changed. You were standing just outside the door, staring up at the night sky, your face unreadable.

For a moment, he considered going down to you, saying something, anything. But what would he even say? Sorry for not noticing you sooner? Sorry for not loving you back?

None of it would change the fact that you were standing there, alive but different, the love you had once felt for him wiped away like it had never existed.

Gojo watched you for a long moment, his heart heavy with something he couldn’t quite name. Regret, maybe. Loss. He wasn’t sure. But whatever it was, it weighed on him more than he expected.

Finally, he turned away from the edge of the rooftop, stuffing his hands back into his pockets. He couldn’t stay here, lingering on what-ifs and what-could-have-beens. That wasn’t how the world worked, and he knew it.

But as he walked away from the rooftop, away from you, a quiet thought lingered in the back of his mind:

Maybe I should’ve let you love me after all.

The days that followed your return to class were a strange limbo of routine and discomfort. You tried to slip back into your usual rhythm—taking notes, going through exercises, training with your classmates—but everything felt just a bit off. You were going through the motions, trying to exist in a world where the most important thing about you, the love that had nearly destroyed you, was gone. But the emptiness it left behind had its own kind of weight.

And Gojo was still there, always hovering in the background. His presence was impossible to ignore, even when he wasn’t directly interacting with you. His playful attitude, the way he made Yuji and Nobara laugh, his easy command of the room—none of it had changed. But to you, it felt different. Every glance in his direction was a reminder of the love you no longer felt, and yet… something lingered. It wasn’t love, not like before, but it wasn’t nothing, either.

It was after a particularly exhausting training session that you found yourself alone with Gojo once more. The others had gone ahead, leaving the training grounds in their usual rush, but you had lingered, too tired to keep up. You were about to head back to your dorm when you heard his voice behind you.

“Hey, you got a minute?”

You froze, your heart quickening, though not from affection. It was something else—fear, hesitation. Slowly, you turned to face him. He stood there, looking relaxed as always, but there was an intensity in his posture that you hadn’t seen before. His blindfold covered his eyes, but you knew he was watching you closely, reading every movement.

You sighed, bracing yourself for whatever this conversation was going to be. “What is it, Gojo?”

He took a step closer, his voice unusually soft. “I just… I’ve been thinking about everything. You’ve been quiet. We haven’t talked since… you know.”

The mention of the surgery sent a cold shiver down your spine, and you could feel your stomach twist in knots. You didn’t want to talk about it, but you knew that avoiding it forever was impossible. You nodded, looking away from him. “Yeah. It’s been… weird.”

Gojo crossed his arms, leaning back slightly as he studied you. “Weird how?”

You sighed again, frustrated that he was making you spell it out. “You know how. The surgery took away the love I had for you, and now I’m just… here. Trying to figure out how to be around you again.”

His expression didn’t change, but you could feel the tension in the air between you. He had been so calm and distant since your recovery, giving you space, acting like everything was fine. But now that the subject was out in the open, neither of you could ignore it any longer.

“Yeah, I figured as much,” Gojo said quietly, his voice losing its usual lightness. “But I’ve been thinking… and I guess I need to ask—what now? What do you want?”

The question hit you like a punch to the chest. What did you want? You hadn’t allowed yourself to think about that since the surgery. You were too busy just trying to exist, to move forward without the overwhelming burden of unrequited love. But now, faced with Gojo’s question, you felt the flood of emotions you’d been holding back come rushing forward.

“I’m afraid to be around you,” you admitted, the words slipping out before you could stop them. Your voice wavered, but you pressed on. “The surgery… it’s not supposed to keep someone from loving forever. That’s what Shoko told me. And… you… you’re too easy to love, Gojo.”

Gojo’s breath hitched ever so slightly, but he didn’t move. He stood there, arms crossed, his expression unreadable behind his blindfold. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he was processing your words.

You took a step back, needing space. “You make it easy for people to fall for you. You’re charming, you’re kind—at least when it matters. And I’m afraid if I stay around you too long, it’s going to happen again. And this time, there won’t be any surgery. I’ll just… fall for you again, and then what? What happens then?”

The silence between you grew heavier, and Gojo finally uncrossed his arms, letting them fall to his sides. His usual easy grin was gone, replaced by something quieter, something more vulnerable. “I didn’t know you felt like that.”

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “Of course you didn’t. You didn’t even notice me until it was too late.”

The words stung, even though you hadn’t meant for them to come out so harshly. But Gojo didn’t flinch. He just stood there, taking it in, his jaw tight. “I notice you now.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Yeah, but that’s not enough. It doesn’t change the fact that this happened. It doesn’t change what we went through.”

Gojo shifted, stepping closer, his voice soft but insistent. “I get it. I do. And maybe I didn’t see you before, not the way I should have, but I’m here now. I don’t want to make this harder for you. I just—”

You cut him off, your voice sharp with frustration. “What do you want, Gojo? You keep asking me what I want, but you haven’t told me what you want. Do you want me to stay around and pretend like none of this happened? Do you want me to just… be fine with whatever this is now? What do you want?”

Gojo was silent for a long moment, and for once, you could see the cracks in his usual armor. He didn’t have the answers this time, didn’t have the usual confidence he carried so effortlessly. He hesitated, as if searching for the right words, but they didn’t come easily.

“I don’t know,” he admitted finally, his voice quiet. “I just don’t want to lose you. Not like that.”

You felt your chest tighten, and you swallowed hard, trying to keep the tears from spilling over. “You already did,” you whispered. “You lost me the moment I had to let go of everything I felt for you. You can’t just fix that.”

Gojo flinched, and for the first time since you’d known him, he looked lost. Completely and utterly lost. He took a deep breath, his voice barely audible. “I’m sorry.”

The apology hung in the air between you, heavy with all the things that couldn’t be unsaid, all the feelings that had already been taken from you. And as you stood there, staring at him, you realized that you didn’t have the energy to figure this out right now. You were still too raw, too afraid of what could happen if you stayed too close for too long.

“I need time,” you said softly, your voice shaky. “I need space, Gojo. Because I don’t know what happens next either, but I can’t let myself fall for you again. I can’t survive that.”

Gojo nodded slowly, his expression somber. “Take all the time you need. I won’t push.”

The room was quiet, the air thick with unspoken tension as you stood there, just a few feet away from Gojo. His presence was overwhelming, as it always had been, but now, there was something different. Something more vulnerable, more raw. You could see it in the way he stood, in the way he spoke—there were no barriers between you now, no more deflection, no more pretending that nothing had changed. Everything had changed, and there was no going back.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you looked at him, your voice barely a whisper as you asked the question that had been lingering in the back of your mind since your conversation began.

“And what if I love you again?”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and uncertain, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. You could feel the weight of your own fear pressing down on you, the fear that had been gnawing at you since the surgery—the fear that it wasn’t truly over, that despite everything, despite the surgery meant to strip those feelings away, you could still fall for him again.

Gojo’s expression didn’t change, but his shoulders tensed, and you could see the way his hands twitched slightly, as though he was fighting the urge to reach out to you. His blindfold covered his eyes, but you could feel his gaze, heavy and intent, as he took in your words.

He let out a slow, controlled breath, his voice soft but steady when he finally spoke. “If you love me again… then we deal with that, too. Together.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart racing at the calm certainty in his voice. It wasn’t the answer you had expected—wasn’t the answer you were prepared for. You had thought Gojo would try to pull away, to protect both of you from the possibility of going through this all over again. But instead, he was standing here, telling you that if it happened—if you fell in love with him again—he wouldn’t run.

“You’re not scared of that?” you asked quietly, unable to keep the tremor from your voice.

Gojo’s lips twitched into a faint smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice more serious than you were used to hearing from him. “I’m scared of hurting you. I’m scared of messing this up again. But I’m not going to let fear stop me from being here.”

You felt the tears welling up again, but this time, they weren’t just from fear or pain. There was something else—a quiet hope, fragile and new, but there. You had been so afraid of what might happen, of falling back into the same trap, that you hadn’t allowed yourself to consider the possibility that maybe… just maybe, things could be different.

“But what if it’s too much?” you asked, your voice shaking. “What if it happens again, and I can’t handle it? What if I love you, and it destroys me all over again?”

Gojo’s expression softened, and he took another step closer, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. His voice was low, almost a whisper, as he spoke. “Then we don’t let it destroy you. I won’t let it.”

You blinked, staring at him, your heart pounding in your chest. You wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that things could be different this time. But the fear was still there, gnawing at the edges of your mind.

“And what about you?” you asked quietly. “What if I fall for you again… and you don’t feel the same?”

Gojo was silent for a moment, his expression thoughtful, and then, to your surprise, he reached up and pulled the blindfold off, revealing his eyes to you. His gaze was intense, piercing, as he looked at you—really looked at you—for what felt like the first time in a long time.

“If you fall for me again,” he said slowly, his voice soft but firm, “I’ll be here. I’m not going anywhere this time.”

You stared at him, your breath catching in your throat. There was something so raw, so open in the way he looked at you, in the way he spoke. It wasn’t a promise of love, but it was a promise of something real—something honest. He wasn’t running. He wasn’t hiding.

And suddenly, the fear that had been gripping you loosened, just a little.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “I don’t know if I can risk it again.”

Gojo stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently brush against your arm. “You don’t have to decide now,” he said softly. “But if you ever do… if you ever feel like that again… I won’t run. I won’t let you go through it alone.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks, but this time, they were mixed with a strange sense of relief. The love you had once felt for him was gone, but the possibility of something new—something real—was still there. It scared you. It terrified you.

But maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to be afraid of it anymore.

You looked up at Gojo, your heart pounding, your voice barely a whisper. “I’m still afraid.”

Gojo smiled gently, his hand lingering on your arm. “That’s okay,” he said. “I’m afraid too.”

And in that moment, standing there with him, you realized that maybe being afraid didn’t have to mean running away. Maybe being afraid meant facing it together, even if you didn’t know what would happen next.

“I’ll try,” you whispered, your voice shaky but filled with a quiet determination. “I’ll try not to be afraid.”

Gojo’s smile widened, and for the first time in a long time, it felt genuine. “That’s all I’m asking.”

You didn’t know what would happen from here. You didn’t know if you would ever fall for him again, or if the love you had once felt would return. But for now, it was enough to know that you didn’t have to face it alone.

Gojo tried to keep his distance, but he’s just too extra.

The air was warmer, the breeze softer as spring break arrived, and with it, a sense of relief that classes were over—at least for a little while. You hadn’t been looking forward to the break in any particular way, hoping for a quiet week to yourself, time to sort through everything that had been weighing on your mind. But, as always, things never seemed to go quite the way you planned when Gojo was involved.

It had started with Yuji, his usual excited grin lighting up the room as he bounded over to your group after class, bouncing with the energy of someone who clearly had plans for the week ahead. “Hey! You guys heard about Gojo-sensei’s beach house, right?” he asked, practically vibrating with enthusiasm.

You blinked, confused, exchanging a glance with Nobara and Megumi, who looked just as surprised as you felt. A beach house? Gojo never mentioned anything about a beach house.

Nobara crossed her arms, her expression skeptical. “Since when does Gojo have a beach house?”

Yuji beamed. “Since forever, apparently! He told me and Megumi yesterday. Said we should all go. Like, as a group thing. Spring break, you know? Hang out, relax, swim… It’ll be fun!”

Megumi sighed, looking like he was already dreading the trip. “I didn’t agree to this.”

But before anyone else could protest, Gojo strolled into the conversation, sunglasses perched on his head and that ever-present grin plastered across his face. “It’ll be fun,” he said, confirming Yuji’s announcement as if it were already settled. “You all could use a break, don’t you think?”

You watched him, your stomach twisting slightly. He hadn’t spoken to you directly about the trip, hadn’t even hinted at it, but now, as he stood there smiling like everything was already decided, you couldn’t help but wonder why he had invited all of you in the first place.

Was this really about giving everyone a break? Or was it about something else?

Nobara, clearly more interested in the idea than Megumi, shrugged. “I’m in. Beats sitting around doing nothing.”

Yuji clapped his hands together, excited that at least someone shared his enthusiasm. “Great! What about you?” he asked, turning to you with a hopeful grin.

You hesitated. Going to a beach house with the others, with Gojo, wasn’t exactly what you had planned for spring break. It felt too close, too personal, especially after everything that had happened between you and Gojo. But the way Yuji looked at you, his eagerness palpable, made it hard to say no.

Before you could answer, Gojo’s voice cut in, casual but somehow heavier than usual. “Come on, you deserve to relax too.” His words were light, but the way his gaze flickered toward you made it clear that this invitation wasn’t just about a group vacation. He wanted you there. And that realization made your heart race in a way you hadn’t expected.

You swallowed, forcing a small smile. “I guess I could use a break.”

Yuji practically jumped in excitement, and Nobara smirked, clearly satisfied that the group was coming together. Megumi just sighed in resignation. And Gojo? He didn’t say anything more, but you caught the way his lips curved slightly, like he was pleased you had agreed.

The beach house turned out to be even more impressive than you’d imagined—an expansive, modern villa perched on the edge of the sand, overlooking the crystal-clear water. It was quiet, secluded, and far too luxurious for just a simple group getaway. But, of course, it made sense that Gojo would have something like this, even if it seemed wildly out of place for a spring break with students.

You arrived with the others, your bags slung over your shoulder, taking in the sight of the house with wide eyes. Yuji immediately started talking about all the things he wanted to do—swim, play beach volleyball, explore the area—while Nobara admired the house itself, clearly impressed by Gojo’s taste. Megumi, predictably, looked like he wanted to crawl into a corner and avoid everything.

But you? You couldn’t shake the feeling that this trip wasn’t just about relaxing. It was about something more, something unspoken that lingered between you and Gojo.

He was there, of course, standing near the entrance, his sunglasses now resting on the top of his head, watching as everyone took in the surroundings. His usual grin was in place, but there was something different in his eyes when he glanced at you—something that made your stomach twist in uncertainty.

The day passed in a blur of activity. Yuji and Nobara dragged Megumi down to the beach, convincing him to at least try to have fun, while you stayed closer to the house, content to relax in the shade and enjoy the quiet. Gojo kept his distance for most of the day, busy keeping the others entertained and making sure everything was in order, but every so often, you caught him watching you—his gaze lingering longer than it should, as if he was trying to figure something out.

It wasn’t until later, as the sun began to set, that you found yourself alone with him. The others had retreated inside, tired from the day’s activities, and you had wandered down to the water’s edge, watching the waves roll in, the sky painted in shades of pink and gold.

Gojo approached quietly, his footsteps barely audible on the sand. You felt him before you saw him, his presence always impossible to ignore.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice carrying on the breeze.

You glanced at him, nodding slightly. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

He stood beside you, his hands in his pockets, his gaze focused on the horizon. For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the sound of the ocean filling the silence between you. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t exactly peaceful either. There was a tension there, something unspoken, something that had been building since before you’d arrived.

“Why did you invite us here?” you asked finally, your voice quiet but steady.

Gojo hesitated, his usual easy grin faltering for just a second. “You guys needed a break.”

“We needed a break?” You turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “Or I did?”

Gojo let out a soft chuckle, but it lacked his usual lightness. “Maybe both.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “What is this, Gojo? Why are you doing all of this? Why did you invite me here? What are you trying to figure out?”

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze still fixed on the water. But you could feel the weight of his thoughts, the way his usual playful demeanor was slipping, revealing something more vulnerable underneath.

“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly, his voice lower than you’d ever heard it. “I thought… maybe if we got out of the usual routine, it would help. Help me figure out what I’m doing.”

You frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

Gojo finally looked at you, his eyes serious, the sunglasses forgotten. “I don’t know why I’m doing this. Why I’m trying so hard to keep you close, to keep you here. It’s like… I’m trying to hold onto something I didn’t even realize I wanted until it was too late.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt a knot form in your stomach. “Gojo, I—”

“I’m not saying I’ve figured it out,” he cut in, his voice soft but insistent. “I’m just… trying to understand. What this is. What we are now.”

You stared at him, unsure of what to say. You had been so focused on your own fear, your own confusion, that you hadn’t considered what Gojo was feeling. And now, hearing him admit that he didn’t understand it either… it made everything feel even more complicated.

“I don’t know what this is either,” you said softly, your voice barely audible. “But I’m scared, Gojo. I’m scared of getting too close again.”

Gojo’s expression softened, and for a moment, he looked almost… unsure. “I know. And I don’t want to push you into anything. But… if you’re willing to figure it out with me...”

You looked out at the ocean, the waves crashing gently against the shore, and for the first time in a long time, you felt something shift inside you. It wasn’t love, not yet. But it was something. Something real, something worth exploring.

And maybe, just maybe, it was enough.

You nodded slowly, turning back to Gojo. “Okay. Let’s figure it out.”

Gojo smiled, a real, genuine smile, and for a moment, everything felt lighter.

notes: i'm writing a new fluff Gojo x you and ngl i think i ate this one, please wait just a bit! - If you'd like to be tagged, just let me know <3

tag list: @lily-of-my-dreams @sunnyx07 @3zae-zae3 @sashisuslover @kingshitonly @bvuckleybby @laviefantasie @r0ckst4rjk @minkyungseokie @tw0fvced @f1sheeee

©apollogeticx ⋆ all rights reserved.

[contentloadinggg]

January Blues - Hozier

Author’s Note: Y’all I finally did it. We’re going to pretend it’s still January so this fits. But it’s finally here 🙏. Thanks to my bestie lunaritessane Who’s input made this fic a whole lot better. I love you💚. (Literally, like their beta reading was just delicious.)

Summary: Andrew is feeling down, you make him feel better. Gender neutral!reader. (3k words)

⚠️Warnings⚠️: Smut! Smut turned weirdly poetic sometimes?. Kinda Switch!Andrew, sub vibes at the beginning, soft dom vibes later. Descriptive descriptions of Andrew’s long dick. (I have a problem)

This is a work fiction and is not a reflection of who Hozier is.

Inspired by:

“Well you cured my January Blues, yeah, you made it all alright.”

Fic under the cut💙, 18+ only, you’ve been warned.

The further Ireland dipped into the depths of winter, the more Andrew’s mood dropped. Reflecting the rainy, washed-out climate outside the frosty windows of his house. It hardly even snowed this winter, just a cold rain that somehow made his mood worse. Logically, he knew it was likely that the lack of sun on his already pale skin was what had him wallowing. But alas, no amount of tea and books seemed to make him feel any better. So that’s why he’d given up by this point. Gaze zoned out past the pages of his novel and tea now cold on the coffee table. His mind clouded like the gathering storm outside.

“Andy?”

A gentle call of his name had Andrew startled. Usually he would’ve noticed your presence by the sound of your footsteps, but he’d been too far into his head to notice.

“Yes, darling?”

He asked, the tone of his voice reflecting yours in its quiet manner.

“I’m just wondering if you’re alright? I’ve called your name a few times and you haven’t answered.”

You replied. Despite keeping your voice light, he can tell by the slight frown and the furrow of your eyebrows you’re more concerned than you're letting on. Sighing deeply with resignation, he closes the book with a soft snap and sets it aside. 

“I’m just feeling… I’m not sure. Down, I suppose.”

He answers, voice tainted with melancholy. You look even more concerned. A part of him wishes he didn’t worry you over trivial things. But how could he ever resist your questioning of his well-being?

You walk over to him and sit down on the arm of the chair. Running a hand into the long curls of his hair to scratch at his scalp. He hums and closes his eyes, leaning back into your soothing touch.

“Anything I can do to help?’

You ask and he breathes out through his nose with a shake of his head.

“Not sure there’s much you can do, but… stay?”

Andrew replies, aware his tone sounds dangerously close to needy. But you only smile and nod. Sating any insecurities he has as you continue to massage his scalp. 

He hums contently once more, letting his head rest against your hand. The warm light of the room throws shadows over his face and the pale lines of his neck. Shrouding the valleys in darkness and the highlights with warmth. Turning the sharpness of his cheekbones all the more prominent if that's possible. 

Leaning down, you leave a few kisses over his cheekbones. The feeling of warm breath against his face forces a smile to his lips. He turns his head, capturing your lips against his. Your kiss is like a balm on his apathy, replacing it with passion. Your free hand cups the side of his face. Feeling the gentle scratch of facial hair against your palm that’s also felt on your chin. The feeling lures you closer. Pressing into the space between his and your bodies until you’re straddling one of his legs. Lost in the velvety sensation of lips and tongues against each other. You break it off first. Ignited with one simple idea. 

“Let me make you feel better, yeah?”

You prompt, in a lowered, raspier voice. He looks up at you with blown pupils, green irises dark. Shining hot in the orange light from the lamp. He breathes out. Like he can’t believe you’re real. And nods eagerly.

“Please… do what you’d like.”

His breathless agreement makes you smile and melt a bit, moving his head to get access to his throat. A soft sound leaves his mouth as you kiss over the thin skin. Breath hitching when your tongue follows along the groves of his veins. He’s so goddamn sensitive. He has to hold back a few noises, the heat of your breathing brushing over his neck. Goosebumps appear over his arms. He’s becoming more and more aware of your every move.

Andrew lets out a loud groan that he quickly cuts off in embarrassment. A response to the dragging of your teeth over the base of his neck where it meets his shoulder. The skin beneath your lips flushes a pink color. You snicker in response to the noise, and he huffs in irritation.

“It’s okay, I wanna hear you. I wanna know you’re enjoying it. You sound absolutely gorgeous, but that’s no surprise.”

You murmur to him, rubbing his side to subdue his unease. You know he’s listening because the muscles relax beneath your hand. He lets out another moan as you nibble, turning the skin a pale red.

It’s not long before you’ve scattered similar-looking bites over his neck. By the time you’re getting his sweater off Andrew is breathing a little heavier, sweat building on the back of his flushed neck. 

His chest stutters watching you sink to your knees in front of the armchair. Eyes hooded and darkened.

“Just lie back, baby, and I’ll cure all those blues.”

You direct, and he does as you say. His mouth is too dry to try and come up with a sassy reply to your somewhat cheesy line. Not like that would matter anyway. All thought disappears from his head when your mouth lands on his chest. Kissing, licking, sucking down his sternum. Your lips wrapping around one of his nipples has him debating whether or not to beg for mercy. Airless moans slip from his lips without time nor thought to stop them. 

“Fuckin’ Hell, darling. That’s so good.”

Andrew hisses, voice rough, Irish accent thickened, words a little slurred. His hands running into your hair. Using whatever is there to try and get a grip. Large palms grasping at the back of your skull. He can’t help but pull when you tug on his nipple, forcing a quiet moan from your lips.

“Shit, sorry.”

He apologizes in a way that would sound regretful if it wasn’t husky with arousal. You laugh in response to him jerking under your mouth when you suck softly. Your way of telling him it’s okay. 

After giving Andrew’s nipple a bit more attention, just to hear him whine a few more times. And then start slowly kissing down his stomach. Feeling every little twitch and breath beneath your mouth. 

“Darling, please, please, stop teasing.”

There it is, the pleads for mercy. He’s practically whimpering. His voice becomes tight. A struggle for control. You grant his wish, hands moving to his belt. There’s a large bulge beneath his jeans, straining against the fabric. God, that must be uncomfortable, you can feel the heat from here. 

Eventually, with a bit of moving around, you manage to pull his jeans and boxers off. Freeing his cock from the confines of his clothes. It arches up towards his stomach with a surprising stiffness, considering you haven’t even been touching him for that long. He’s decently above average in length. To the point it burns a little to take, but not ridiculously so. The tip is a deep red, swelled with a desperation to be touched. 

Andrew shoots a hand from your hair to the arm of the chair. Gripping it with a hiss when he feels the brush of your breath over the sensitive skin. His cock twitches, the two prominent veins along the bottom throbbing. You decide not to make him wait any longer. Wrapping a hand around the shaft. Andrew looks down at you with hungry eyes alight with reverence, studying your every move. 

“God- fucking, yes.”

Andrew gasps in pleasured relief, a moan quickly following when you start stroking the length of his shaft, giving every inch an equal amount of attention. Just barely touching the tip to tease him. To watch his cravings become unbearable. At first, he accepts the simple touch, relishing in finally having friction on his cock. However, it soon becomes too little and he starts rocking his hips into your hand, eager for more. Slender thighs flexing with the movement. Light shining over his jutting hip bones. He’s absolutely stunning from this angle, chest heaving as he squirms. A thin sheen of sweat glistening over the bridge of his nose and high cheekbones. A stark contrast to the darkness of his neatly trimmed beard. 

“Babe-”

Andrew starts, his words sounding more like a gasp of breath. 

“Fine, I’ll be nice.” 

You relent, not wanting to torture him too much. Dragging your hand over the weeping head, Andrew moans and sinks his fingernails into the arm of the chair. His other hand cupping the back of your neck, trying his best not to grip or pull. You circle your thumb around the very tip of his cock, over the most sensitive glands. Andrew practically whimpers because of it. Legs jerking, he throws his head back. Eyes squeezed shut. Showing off all those pink love bites you left over his throat.

“Yes, just like that. Keep going.”

Andrew manages in that sweet, unsteady voice. It’s like he can’t get enough air into his lungs, caught between moaning and whining. He thrusts his hips into your hand which moves up and down the entire length of his dick. A focused attention with a twist of your wrist over the head. Andrew isn’t the only one getting impatient. You’re interested in doing much more than just a handjob. 

So, when your impatience gets to be too much, you duck your head and take the tip of his cock into your mouth. Causing a high-pitched noise of surprise from the man above. There’s an even sharper noise as you press your tongue against the bottom and suck. Pulling precum from his eagerness. The tangy and sharp taste coating your tastebuds, sticking to your tongue. It fills your senses, nearly overwhelming the musky scent of Andrew’s arousal. 

“Let me see your eyes, please. Look at me.”

Andrew urges, his voice higher than normal. Looking up at him, his eyes meet yours. And he responds like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his life. His lips parted, looking down at you with warmth in his eyes. His entire dick throbbing with your gaze on his. 

“God, you’re so gorgeous, sweetheart.”

He gasps out. His hand letting go of the armchair and brushing the hair away from your face. So he can see all of you properly. 

“So, so pretty down there.”

Andrew continues in a murmur, the pleasure of seeing you drives his ecstasy even higher. He gently moves slightly further into your mouth, hungry for more of the warm pleasure, more than what your hand is giving him. You welcome him, slowly working his cock deeper into your mouth. Jaw stretching to accommodate until it nearly aches. Your tongue cradles the underside. 

He moans lowly, running fingers over your scalp. The warm and wet feeling of your mouth wrapping around his cock causes his entire body to shiver. Pleasure bolting up his spine. He nearly becomes lightheaded with the rush of blood, cheeks flushing a bright red against the paleness of the rest of his skin. 

The more you take, the more difficult it is to breathe. Andrew stops you for a moment,  letting you take a breath. He caresses your jaw with the backs of his fingers, helping it relax out. 

“Just go slow, breathe through your nose.”

He speaks in a calmly commanding voice. Forcing you to stay in your moment of pause for a few seconds longer before letting you continue. You follow his introductions and breathe through your nose, taking measured breaths as you sink further. Until tears gather in your eyes when the tip of his cock brushes the back of your throat. Pushing at your gag reflex. 

A pleasured rumble sounds in Andrew’s chest. Vibrating back through your bones. He continues stroking your jaw, making sure you can take every inch.  

“That’s good. You’re doing so well, baby. Start moving if you want.”

Andrew says, trying his best to keep his composure so his desire doesn’t get the better of him. It nearly does when you start moving achingly slow up and down the length of his dick. Your mouth is so consumingly tempting, hot and wet and just perfect. Both a gift and a curse. Luring Andrew to near madness with how good it feels. He’s speechless, wordless. Stuck in this version of heaven. You’ve got him absolutely hooked. Even more so when you start to move faster. Suck harder. Letting saliva drip down your chin and glisten on your skin the way it does on his cock.  

“Fuck, I’ll never get enough of this. Your so skilled, so absolutely, fucking wonderful.”

He groans behind his clenched teeth. Resisting the urge to bury himself even deeper into your mouth. You struggle to move faster. Gagging on his cock when it hits your reflex. Andrew looks down at you, noticing your struggle. He gently pulls on your hair. Guiding you off his cock.

“It’s alright, let me help you, okay?”

He asks, but it’s less of a suggestion and more of a command if you want to keep going. You nod in agreement. 

“Yeah, okay.”

Andrew takes a careful hold of your hair, holding your head in place as he brings his hips closer to your mouth. The tip of his cock brushes your lips, it’s so red it’s almost purple. Eager and more than ready to slip back into your mouth.

“Ready?”

He asks one more time and you answer affirmatively again. He accepts this and nudges his dick slowly past your parted lips. Guiding himself back into the heat of your mouth. It’s wet, soft and very, very hot. He waits a moment for you to get used to it once more. Before starting to move. Using your hair to move you up and down. His hips rocking forwards into your mouth. His breath hitching as he feels your teeth gaze him. His thighs clasp either side of your head, knees almost on top of your shoulders.

“That’s it, let me help you. Just like this.”

Andrew praises in a tone that does nothing to conceal how good it feels. Carefully thrusting his cock in and out of your already sore throat. You’re so sweet, letting him do this. Willing to take apart every piece of him and put it back together. It’s something only you can do for him. Yet he’s sure you could do it for anyone. 

“God, that’s just right. You’re doing such a good job. You’re an angel.”

He manages, voice trembling. He rocks his hips faster. Guiding you to suck harder. Feeling every ridge moving back and forth across your tongue. The head is just barely nudging the back of your throat. Andrew is gasping, moaning above you like he’s never experienced something quite so amazing in his life. Something beyond any man’s wildest dreams.

His cock twitches in your mouth. His ecstasy reaching higher and higher. To the point his thighs are trembling, skin highlighted pink with exertion (is that how you spell it? idk). You look up at him. Admiring the way his features are painted with pleasure. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes squeezed shut. His long hair is messy and falling into his flushed face. There’s strands sticking to the sides of his face and neck with the thin sheen of sweat on his skin. Droplets slide down his collarbones and disappear into his sweater. 

He jerks his cock a little deeper on accident. Coming closer and closer to his finish. Causing you to gag. He opens his eyes with an apology on his lip. But you grasp his hips, pulling him closer. You shove down your gag reflex so you can take him all the way. Tears gathering on your waterline. He takes the hint with widened eyes of surprise and adoration. Carefully thrusting his cock into the depths of your throat, he groans loudly with pleasure. Both hands sinking into and grabbing on your hair. 

Your nose brushes his pelvis. The smell of musk filling your nose. An almost sweet, earthy scent coming from him. You make eye contact through blurry eyes. Andrew’s breath stutters, his legs tensing by the sides of your head. 

“Fuck- darling, so good. I’m gonna- shit. I’m gonna cum in your mouth. Do you want that? Do you want me to cum into your mouth?”

He asks, his words broken and stuttering. Almost failing at forming a sentence entirely. You nod the best you can. Tears and spit running down your face. He moans at your agreement. Somehow feeling hotter and even more aroused by it. 

Andrew thrusts his hips into your mouth. Pushing how much you can take as he chases his high. It’s not more than a minute of nearly reckless movements before he’s cumming into your mouth just as he said he would. His back arching into it as his legs shudder. He moans loudly from the bottom of his chest. His mouth hanging open. Head thrown back with his eyes rolled back into his skull. Shooting warm, thick cum into your mouth. The salty and bitter taste overwhelming your senses, but one you could taste over and over again. You groan around his cock. Causing his legs to jump as he feels the vibrations. 

He pants, remaining motionless in his recovery. His brain needed a moment to recover before piecing itself back together and pulling out of your mouth. There’s a lopsided, still half-gone smile on his face as he looks down at you. Humming happily as you swallow his cum. 

“You’re so amazing, baby.”

Andrew compliments breathlessly. Moving his hands to cup your cheeks and brush the tears away.

“I’m so, so proud of you. Come on, get off your knees.”

The tenderness of his voice is so beautiful. His actions even more so, helping you up off the floor. And positioning you on one of his thighs. 

“Are you okay? I wasn’t too rough with you?” 

He questions, his worries calming when you shake your head. Still recovering yourself.

“Good… can I return the favor?”

Thank you so much for reading my first fic 🫶, any constructive criticism is appreciated. I’m going to go do the school work I’ve been procrastinating over to do this instead now. Hopefully, the next fic won’t take over a month to write and I’ll be more active.

-Thad 💚

[syerra-637]

Hi!! I love your work and this is my first time requesting.

If you can, can you do yandere Rook (TWST) with an S/O who thinks they’re really ugly?

Either way I hope you have a good day/night :3

A/n: Thank you for the request, I was very inspired <3. You didn't specify the format, so I did it in the form of headcanons, I hope that's okay Tw : Low self-esteem, yandere behavior, possessiveness and obsessive behavior, surveillance and control, social isolation, veiled threats, manipulation, disturbing behavior, excessive jealousy, self-doubt, themes of coercion and control, toxic relationships, use of a translator Reader : Gn

You have always had low self-esteem, convinced that you are truly ugly. The comments of others and your own reflection in the mirror only reinforce this feeling.

Despite this, you have caught the attention of Rook Hunt, the mysterious and charismatic hunter of Pomefiore. Rook has fallen deeply in love with you, fascinated by your inner beauty that you yourself do not see.

However, his love for you has taken a dark and possessive turn. Rook began to compliment you almost excessively, his poetic and enchanting words trying to convince you of your beauty. "Ah, my dear, you are like a rough diamond, dazzling despite yourself," he would often say.

He watches your movements from afar, protecting you from the slightest criticism or mockery. Anyone who dares to speak ill of you mysteriously finds themselves excluded or sidelined, sometimes even disappearing.

Rook often leaves small gifts and admiring notes, poems, and flowers in your locker or on your desk. He hopes this will make you see how special you are in his eyes.

Rook becomes increasingly possessive, ensuring that you spend as much time as possible with him. He invites you to secret dates, getaways in nature where he can admire you without interruption.

He has a way of subtly manipulating others to ensure you have no close friends. You start to notice that people are distancing themselves from you for no apparent reason, except for Rook, always there to console you.

His language becomes more intense and a bit frightening at times: "I will not let anyone tarnish your beauty, no one understands how precious you are to me."

You have difficulty accepting his compliments, thinking that he is mocking you or that he is blinded by something you do not see. "You say that, but I know you can't really mean it," you often murmur in response.

Rook begins to gently isolate you, surrounding you with his love and obsession. He tells you that he is the only one who sees the real beauty in you, that others are blinded by superficial standards.

You begin to doubt your own perception. Maybe Rook is right? Maybe you are beautiful in his way? Rook does not hesitate to use veiled threats against those who might potentially harm you or come between the two of you. "No one loves you like I do, and I will do anything to protect you," he says, his eyes shining with a worrying intensity.

His fits of jealousy become more frequent. He follows you, ensuring that no one gets too close to you. It becomes increasingly difficult to find a moment of solitude.

Despite everything, he continues to adore you, repeating how magnificent you are, hoping that you will eventually believe his words and accept his unconditional love, even if it is tinged with madness.

You are trapped in a whirlwind of his excessive attentions, his sweet but suffocating words, and his possessive desire. Rook is determined to keep you by his side, to prove that you are much more than you think.

No matter the means, Rook will do everything to make you see what he sees: a person of unparalleled beauty, worthy of his consuming and delusional love. And he will let no one, not even you, stand in his way.

[angel-fruitcake]

listen i love the timeless trope of bottom!dean is bad with words and emotions so top!cas waxes poetic to and about dean while making sweet, tender love to him as much as the next guy.

like i totally get it, i do. that dynamic fits them the best and is arguably the truest to their personalities and relationship with each other......

but hear me out:

there's something so intensely romantic and hot about the concept of an angel of the lord overwhelmed, trembling and whimpering at the hands of the righteous man. need to see that ancient celestial creature strung out, desperate, whining, yearning, pathetically whipped and weak with how deeply and completely in love he is. i want castiel--the mighty seraph with power far beyond human comprehension--absolutely wrecked as dean winchester slowly and lovingly takes him apart mind, body, and soul.

[starry-bi-sky]

I'm slowly becoming obsessed with the childhood friends au and it's mostly bc of something you said in the tags of an ask lol. you mentioned that they weren't soulmates they were something better. that they were two balls of yarn they batted around until they were intertwined, that they chose and continue to choose to be as close as two souls can be.

it's so poetic, the idea that fate has nothing to do with it. they looked at each other and said this is it, that's the one. It makes me think of so many different quotes but here's just a few. Hozier "lay me gently in the cold dark earth, no grave can hold my body I'll crawl home to her (him)" or like patroclus saying that if Achilles were to die that "all things soft and beautiful would be buried with him" and poor Danny grieving so long and so hard because "what is grief if not love perserving?" when you're in love with someone, that person is the lighthouse of your universe and to lose them is to be thrown to a tempestuous sea.

and thinking of their reunion makes me feel a little crazy too cause I see what you've been plotting and it just makes me think of how their relationship is going to be at first. like here's a person that you love so deeply and it's been so long since you've seen them and you've both changed since. will they click back together seemingly effortlessly? attached at the hip for a bit because they're both/or one is scared of being separated again? or will there be some friction for a while while they try to realign their pieces to fit together, to figure out what's different and what's practically the same? "you are a language I am no longer fluent in but still remember how to read"

sorry for rambling, I love them your honor.

🫵 DONT YOU DARE APOLOGIZE FOR RAMBLING I LOVE GETTING RAMBLING ASKS. AND SAME.

There was this one sound on tiktok that I heard that reminded me of them, and I just went and found it, and it goes: "I would recognize you in another lifetime entirely in different bodies, different times, and i would love you in all of this. Until the very last star in the sky burnt out into oblivion." and the first time i heard it i literally thought "this is CFAU Danny and Jason"

AND YEAH THEY JUST. I love devoted characters, i love when characters are so deeply devoted and loyal to each other its like you can't imagine them being anywhere else but at each other's side. That wasn't wholly my intent when I first came up with CFAU last fall, but god I am not complaining about how it turned out. My favorite part of the chapter 1 rewrite is making sure Danny's devotion to Jason was reciprocal.

god those quotes. they're so accurate too. yeah. i thought about this au once in the context of a soulmate au, and just couldn't get behind it. It made their whole dynamic felt cheapened, like of course they're soulmates; it was destined. When no, it wasn't. They made it that way.

(If the two of them were somehow transported to a universe with soulmate marks, they would not have matching symbols. That's okay, Danny and Jason don't need them to be. They'd pick up a tattoo gun or a pen and make their own. They wouldn't call it a soulmate mark, just a them mark.)

("Why should I share my soul with some schmuck I don't know? I want to share my soul with you.")

yeah. their reunion is. ! about as exactly as intense as it needs to be :]. They've both changed so much, and they're both scared of being separated again. Jason purposely stayed away from Amity because he knew he couldn't keep away if he didn't. Being back together again is like having a piece of them returned.

SPEAKING OF QUOTES. Here's one:

I don't believe in the death that you're bringing The reason I'm living is you Wherever you go That's where I'll be Even if death tags along, I don't mind It's still you and me I'll never leave you alone

"Death's At My Door" - The Outsiders Musical

[matchadobo]

KIDD; wedding headcanons

warning/s: partial nsfw but no occurrence of the actual thing, super fluff i died and alived

i'll fix the formatting lateeeerr >:) red ones are individual bullets while white ones are subheadings of the previous red one (hope that makes sense)

* when you bring the question to him he'll be like:

* "me? you wanna marry me?" he'd point to himself.

* "yes, silly! who else?!"

* "i-i mean," he'll instantly become red and start fumbling over his words. "i-i was supposed to pop the damn question out..."

* you best bet it'll be a full blown steampunk wedding! he'd want it to be in the victoria but it's also fine with him if you'd want a beach or garden wedding so long as the theme stays. this i what i think he'll be wearing, the aesthetic of the event, and what your gown'll be.

* during preparations, he'd mostly leave it up to you so long as you follow his color palette: red and blacks. but when it comes to foods, he'd be keen on having an attendance while you taste test and choose out stuff.

his and your fits

* before your wedding day, he'd be soooo anxious. i have this thought that when you two are individually out on your bachelor/ette parties, he'd be calling you by the end of it just cuz he can't sleep.

* "it's pretty late, kidd. did your party just finished?"

* "yeah, every one's knocked out of their damn minds. and apparently, i can't fuckin' sleep."

* "hmm, nervous?"

* "like the fuck i am." he'd try to deny it but eventually give in. "i wanna see you before i sleep."

* "but you know the superstition-"

* "fuck that shi-"

* "no! i don't want any bad luck!"

* "luck? baby, we defy all odds, don't we?"

* he'd insist but you'll also insist. so he just settled on an overnight call where you two slept in.

* during the wedding day, you two'll be tired as fuck because the only sleep you guys got was 2-3 hours because of talking and comforting each other until 5 😭. while getting ready, kidd will be more impatient and irritated than usual. but it's just due to the combination of weariness and anxiety. mostly anxiety. he never felt this anxious when it comes to you, he'd always be confident about how you two felt about each other. but right now, all he thinks if he's sure or not. if you're sure with him. eustass kidd never doubts, but he feels so deeply for you he'd never want to hurt you and that brings him to a wall. the people involve with him that day had a hard time working with him because his attitude is extraaa mean 😔

* but when he sees you at the end of the aisle as you donned a dress that looked way too good on you it was insane to him, all his worries left his body through a tear that cascaded down his eye.

* "you crying?" killer nudged kidd, noticing the taller to reach over his breast pocket to fish out the hanky.

* "shut up, you ain't the one doing the marryin'."

* i imagine his vows to reflect the kind of person he is, passionate and brute about it. he'll be soooo poetic it'd surprise you.

* "where do i even start fuck-" you'd giggle along with the audience. "i do lotsa damn declarations but this is makin' me shy, jeez."

* "name," he'd sheepishly look at you. "you are my dream and i honestly curse the seas that i'd only found you nos and not at the time i needed you the most. and now i, for the life of me, can't imagine how i'd live without you."

* "i, eustass kid, will put hands on anyone who mess with my wife, if those fuckers think they're so big, well so am i, aye?! if she cries i'll cry with her, and trust me when i say i will kill any bastard who dares do her wrong, because that's my wife, they better not look at her cuz she's taken, she's mine. got it?"

* "you've learned to love me, an insufferable asshole, in ways i never thought possible. you've seen the worst and the best, the weak and the strong, the ugly and somehow the pretty in me. you make me a better man."

* "you conquered all my fears, seized my pride, and built my strength. you are the reason i became the way i am today. you crawled your way in 'ere and took control over my heart, you little monster."

* "from the start, i haven't exactly been kind to you. i mean, i've been rude, and disrespectful; but you grew on me, you were patient and measured up to my irritated ass... so much that I don't know what happened, you really snuck up on me... so may you forgive me my past dumb mistakes. because even if I am stupid and mean, and I may not show my love properly, I love you and will do anything to give you what you fuckin' deserve. you know that."

* "name is a great woman, one who stands and always fights for what she wants, and I want the honor of being your husband. we'll conquer anything, yeah?"

* "okay i'm very fucking embrassed now so i'll just come out and say it... I need to marry you, not because I love you, not because I like you, but because I have to to... yeah, I said it, I don't like you or love you, i need you in my fucking life."

* man he'd end up crying while saying them. but his voice wouldn't waver, it's eustass kidd come ooooon

* he'd be dramatic and give you the bridal kiss where you kind of hang mid air and he supports your back.

* reception would be firrrreee it'd be an absolute rave! you'd have your wedding dress be modified where you can discard the tulle or some shit to make the dress shorter.

* your guests and dearest friends each made a speech about your craziness with each other

* "kidd was so damn insane for this girl. one time, he asked me if he should get her an otter or dung beetle as a christmas present. bro doesn't even celebrate christmas until she came along!"

* "kidd stood out as one of name's partners, he was the first jackass she fell for that was actually a keeper."

* "i'm telling you, kidd became so self-conscious when he met name! he started worrying if his lipstick was the right shade or if his eyeliner looked neat!"

* "what confuses me was whenever they talked to me about each other, the word 'i hate' always comes first and them being whipped follows after. it was annoying."

* drinking games come after, trivias about the couple and between you two after. and as expected, it was competitive because neither of you wanted to lose and give way 🤣. kidd as a man, will never go easy and let you win tho. he respects you like that.

* but what prompted me to make this hc is the wedding garter tradition 🫦. this will be his favorite part. he'd be very extra tho,

* he'll take off his suit jacket and roll up his sleeves when you two are in front for the act.

* he'd maintain reaaaally strong eye contact and will be feeling himself while you burn red and start fanning yourself from laughing or actually feeling flustered under his gaze.

* he'd get under your dress, have a long whiff of that 🐱 and his breath'll tickle you bc he nasty like that, lick your thigh a little, give the flesh on your hips a squeeze, and drag the garter off with his teeth very very languidly

* he'll be very pouty when it's time to give it to the bestman tho

* then the actual rave comesss! blasting music and lights at the victoria, it didn't seem like a wedding reception. but you and kidd were in the center of it all, dancing with each other the same way you two met in a bar.

* "wanna get out of here?" he whispered with his hands on your hips, bending down to your ear due to the deafening beats.

* "hmm, ain't this familiar?" you giggled.

* "aye. this is the part where you come with me and we kiss at the back."

* "eh? that's different from what i remember. your mean ass was angry at me for stepping on your shoe." you poked at his nose while he laughed subtly.

* "shh shh, we both know how bad that ended. bar got fucked up real good." you two broke out in laughter, reminiscing at old times.

* kidd would inevitably drag you to his quarters, man's hungrryyyyy

* he'd be so desperate to take off your clothes, with how beautiful you look today and how he was deprived of you for a couple of nights

* you'd leave the deck making out, walkign sideways, backwards, u name it

* "it'd be pretty weird if the bride and groom's gone on their reception, right?" you broke out of the kiss.

* "and we don't give a shit about it, don't we?" he'd grin, tugging at your lips

* aaaand stuff thst happens in the honeymoon happened 😏

been in the works foR WAY TOO LONG

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#41: The Loving Memory (1.04)

gif cred: @riickgrimes

The Ones Who Live asks the question - what happens when a hero needs saving? And when the hero needs saving from external and internal shackles that have led them to become the most despondent version of the walking dead, it’s not exerting brute force nor attempts at world domination that heals them. No, it’s being loved back to life by the one you were made for and who was made for you.

So that's exactly what happens next. Following Rick finally letting out all his truest emotions after keeping them inside for years, there now comes the outstanding resolution between Rick, Michonne, and the boy who first made them family ❤️‍🩹...

Michonne again lovingly puts her hands on Rick's face after that just breathtaking profession of pain and love from Rick and stellar performance from Andy.

And then Michonne proves for the umpteenth time that she is the greatest wife, woman, mother, and best friend ever when she takes out a phone with a sketch of Carl on it and ever-so-gently places it in Rick's hand.

gif cred: @nerd4music

Y’ALL. 🫠 How perfect can one episode be? 😭

This was such a beautiful moment and I adore everything about it. I love that even amid her and Rick's conflict in episode 3, Michonne understood how much these phone portraits meant to Rick and so she had one made of Carl after learning that Rick was having trouble remembering his image. It is so heartwarming to know that she worked with Benjiro and got the image of their boy just right for Rick. 🥹 And this was the perfect time to give him this gift.

In this apartment, Michonne essentially gave Rick both his sons back. 😭

gif cred: @taiturner

The fact that she of course got the image right and that it’s one with Carl's eyepatch because that’s their most recent memory of him and they loved him both with one eye or two. 🥲

I also adore the way she places it in his hand and continues to hold onto his arm. So loving. 🥹 The moment really feels like it parallels the way she placed the PRB in his hand earlier in the episode too.

The PRB is what Rick thought would save them but it’s actually the memory of Carl that helps save them and bring them back together. It’s poetic, it’s powerful, it’s perfect. 👏🏽

gif cred: @taiturner

And how fitting that Carl plays this pivotal role in helping Richonne fully return to each other, considering Carl was pivotal to bringing Richonne together years ago as well.

It's like I wrote in a previous post --- Since the moment Rick and Michonne laid eyes on each other, Carl was there helping bring them together and ultimately helping them realize they were meant to be family. And years later, even from the other side, Carl helped bring Rick and Michonne together again. 🥲

(Side note: I believe I remember Danai said she wrote Carl's letter to Michonne as she read it to herself while crying in season 8. And knowing the power of Danai’s pen, I'm so curious about what she wrote in that letter because Danai has always had such a solid understanding of Carl’s importance to Michonne & Rick)

gif cred: @michonnegrimes

When Rick sees this phone drawing, literally seeing his first image of Carl in over eight years, he takes this teary breath and then recalls the memory of holding little Carl’s hand and lifting him up.

And then this episode just wants to full-on sock me in the heart by then showing a memory of Rick putting a hat on the older Carl. 😭

I love the way this indicates that the memory of Carl so quickly returned to Rick and he was able to remember him not just as a little kid but his older version too.

TWD started with Rick doing everything to fight for his boy and then Carl grew up to fight for him too. And now here in TOWL, Rick’s journey is still so deeply impacted by his son. Beautiful.

Rick gives Michonne a teary look as she just did the most invaluable thing ever and gave him his son's memory back. You can really see that it means so much to Rick to finally have the image of Carl come back to his mind. He loves his son so much. 😭 I absolutely adore the way TOWL made regaining the memory of Carl's face a vital element of Rick finding himself again.

And then Michonne gently asks, “If Carl were here right now, what would he say? What would he want you to do with this new chance to be with those you love?” And then I love her little kind “hmm?”

gif cred: @riickgrimes

Even by asking these questions it’s showing that she knows Rick still knows his son. He might have lost the image of Carl for a few years, but he still knows his boy. And Michonne knows he knows what Carl would say and want for his dad. Carl always wanted the best for Rick, and the best thing for him is to be with his family.

And the way Rick looks at Michonne here it really feels like just when he thought he couldn’t fall any deeper in love with her, he just has.

It also makes so much sense why Rick lost the image of Carl because with the CRM he had nothing to tether him to his son besides himself who was under psychological warfare and constant duress. Back at home, Rick had his wife/son’s best friend and mom, his daughter/Carl’s sister, Carl’s grave, Carl’s handprint, and the community Carl grew up in to constantly keep his son’s memory alive. And he could have had RJ too who would have literal traits of Carl.

This just proves yet another reason why it had to be Michonne to rescue Rick. Cuz after feeling he lost Carl, Rick needed to be with one of the people who Carl most lived on through and who could give Carl back to him - or better yet help him realize he never lost his son. 

I love the way Michonne has always honored Carl’s memory and how because of that she’s now able to give his memory back to his dad. 

gif cred: @jdeanmorgan

And then Michonne has such inspiring rousing final dialogue as she says, “Despite all the odds, all the years, I found you, Rick.” My gosh, the wait was worth it, y'all. 🙌🏽 To hear that line said between Richonne after all the years of waiting. Blessed. 🥹🙏🏽

Then Michonne earnestly says, “I came here through the hell that we have both been through to take you home.” I love that she says the hell they’ve both been through. They’ve gone through so much, and while a lot of it was experienced apart the last few years, that synergistic soulmate connection really makes it feel like they still went through a lot together too.

Like how they both had their worst year ever during the same year - the year Michonne was stuck in a mall after being attacked by the CRM externally while Rick was attacked by the CRM internally when he chose to live dead. Richonne’s journeys like their souls are always interconnected. 👌🏽

I love the music in this moment too as Rick’s breathing slowly steadies and he looks from Michonne to the phone with tears falling. In this moment Rick really gets to grasp how loved he is.

He was fighting so hard on his own but now he gets to hear from Michonne that he was actually never fighting alone because she was fighting for him too. Just like he was trying to get home, she was working to bring him home as well, from setting off to search for him to getting a phone portrait of Carl made for him. 🥲

gif cred: jdeanmorgan

And then Michonne says, “You think that’s all for nothing?” And when she says that they cut to Rick who again has one of those expressions that make it so clear that Alive Rick has the wheel. Like Dead Rick is no more and once again he’s come alive both through and for Michonne.

Michonne says, “For us to just go our separate ways?” Richonne intentionally going their separate ways genuinely feels like an impossible thing for them to do and for me to even wrap my head around. It's simply not an option for these magnetic soulmates.

And then Michonne is beautifully glowing under the TOWL-improved lighting as she wipes a tear from Rick's face and smiles as she assures him, “No. We go home, Rick.”

The way she says that. 😭 This episode holds the record for the number of times my heart bursts. And I love that we now have multiple scenes of Richonne wiping each other's tears over the years. 🥲

Then Michonne continues, “And we figure out how to protect it together.” Michonne knows their home will still need protection from those outside forces and threats. But what she knows even more is that she and Rick can succeed in protecting their kids and their home if they’re together.

Rick looks down and then I adore the way Michonne lifts up his head and says, “That’s how we make it all make sense.”

I've always felt like the one who makes the most sense in the world to Rick is Michonne. Everything about her just resonates with him on a deeper level. She can always help him see clearer and that was crystal clear in this scene as well.

And I love how Michonne holding Rick's head up at this moment reminds me of when he hung his head in his TWD 9.05 hallucination and she lifted him up there too. Now he gets to experience the invigorating spirit-lifting presence of Michonne in real life again, and I love that for him. 😊

Lastly, Michonne tells Rick one of my favorite lines when she says, “We love on each other as hard as we can while we can.”  I love that that’s the final dialogue of this masterpiece of a scene. It’s a beautiful sentiment. 🥹

And I actually like that they don’t ever end up saying “We’re the one who live” within the miniseries because while it’s true and a great motto, I think this show took on an even more grounded and layered exploration of what happens when you stop living or when you become scared of the love of your life inevitably no longer living.

So instead, Rick and Michonne now know even if we don’t live - our love does.

They're the ones whose love lives. Their love lives on forever, and so long as they’re alive they know they shouldn’t run from that. They should love on each other as hard as they can during the valuable time they do have. That’s just so special to me and so I adore that they conclude this by deciding not only to go home but to allow their hearts to love each other as robustly as they’re meant to. 

With Michonne saying this it's essentially saying - even if we don’t have forever, we can make the time we do have feel like it if we live in this love wholeheartedly.

And then I adore the way she puts her hand on his face with a tear so lightly fallen against her skin and looks deep in his eyes with that precious smile. That moment just felt like she saw him. She finally saw and reunited with her Rick. The search is over, y’all. 🥳 She found him for real this time. And that makes my heart so warm to see her know that Rick is with her again just from looking into the love of her life's eyes. 🥰

gif cred: @richonnegifs

You can see the “there he is” moment and truly the acting Danai and Andy can do with just their eyes alone is profound.

Then it’s Andy’s turn to express so much with just his eyes when Rick looks at Michonne with the warmest teary eyes as he has so clearly gotten his entire life from her words, just like old times. Except this time he pretty much literally got his life back through her.

I love the way he looks at her like if his heart for her got any bigger it would pop. I know after this he’s more convinced than ever that Michonne is perfect to him and the love of his life.

I adore seeing him gently put his hand on her face like she’s the greatest treasure in all the land. His look just felt like ‘there she is. I see her fully now and I know she’s worth choosing even over the fear of losing her.' Having her is his life’s reward. 💯 And he's finally ready to embrace that reward again and return to life with her.

gif cred: @richonnegifs

I believe you fall the deepest in love in a relationship where you know you’ll fall and be caught.

Rick and Michonne are able to be so fully invested in, immersed in, and enwrapped in this love because they know they can fall this deeply and unabashedly and always be caught and lifted up.

It also makes me think of the Toni Morrison quote - “I didn’t fall in love, I rose in it.” I feel like that applies to Rick and Michonne so much.

Finding this vibrant and synergistic love with someone as respectable and resilient as Rick made Michonne heal and be all of herself again after so much had been taken from her. Back in TWD, Michonne knew she was able to rise out of the dead state she had been in thanks to being brought back by Rick. And Carl too. 🥲

And Rick found the best version of himself in finding love with someone as radiant and remarkable as Michonne. She met him at a time when he was understandably really struggling mentally. But then he found her and found a partner capable of lovingly walking with him through both the best and hardest seasons of life. And a healed Rick arose from their love.

Now here in TOWL, Rick knows he has risen from the dead through Michonne's love. He's fully aware that despite trying to stay dead, the love of his life has successfully resurrected his spirit and made him come alive again.

And after the two have poured their heart out and he’s regained the image of his eldest son with her help, he’s no longer trying to fight being alive. 🙌🏽 He can now leap back into life and know with Michonne by his side, he'll be caught. And Michonne can do the same and be caught by him now too. 🥹 And they'll rise up against anything else that comes their way.

Then, I absolutely love the kiss that punctuates the end of this immaculate scene. 🤩

The visual of it is beautiful with Richonne matching in black. It really feels like the two of them being in this black is almost like Richonne had to both traverse through the CRM’s dark hold but after being vulnerable they’re now here on the other side. Together.

gif cred: @lousolversons

As always, I love those single Richonne kisses and this one is of course gold. We got us a couple who can go from their freakiest kiss to this utterly wholesome kiss all in one setting, y'all. 😇

And the intimacy of the way they touch before and after the kiss and stay looking into each other's eyes with a smile as they finally agree to go home. We truly witnessed them restore each other back to life through the greatest Richonne heart-to-heart ever. 🥹

gif cred: @nerd4music

These Richonne heart-to-hearts always bring them back, from TWD to TOWL. 🙌🏽

One last time I just gotta say - this ep 4 scene again solidifies why the only person capable of bringing Rick home was Michonne. Because Rick didn’t just need a literal rescue but a physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual revival. He didn’t need to just be brought back home, he needed to be brought back to life. And there is no better person on the planet to do that than the woman who is his heart.

For years, Rick and Michonne had gone without feeling a part of their own heart because they’d been apart. But now in this transcendent moment, after feeling the beating pulse of the heart they share, addressing their physical and internal scars, reflecting on their children, and reconnecting in every way, they feel complete and alive again after years of existing with half their heart miles away.

When I tell you this whole scene - from making love at the start to kissing with tears in their eyes at the end - felt like Love itself chose to take on a physical form and the form it chose was Richonne...

Somehow calling these moments perfection doesn’t even feel like it does it justice. This was everything and more and I adore it endlessly. #LovePersonified.

When I think about why I love Richonne, why all these years I’ve spent all this time reflecting on these two’s love story…it’s this series of events right here that captures it completely. I love the story of these soulmates because Rick and Michonne have the love supreme and it is forever a joy and an honor to behold. 😇👌🏽

[javierssidechick]

How RDR 2 characters would react when you say I love you for the first time

Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Charles Smith, Dutch Van Der Linde, Javier Escuella, Micah Bell

Arthur Morgan

Arthur would be taken off guard. He’s not used to hearing those words, and for a moment, he might not know how to respond.

He would look at you deeply, trying to read your intentions. His initial response might be a simple, gruff "You don’t have to say that." But if you insist, you'd see his tough exterior start to crack.

He’d eventually admit, "I ain't good at this stuff, but I care about you… more than I thought I could." His voice might be soft, unsure but genuine.

John Marston

John would probably get flustered, not knowing how to react at first. He’s loyal to those he loves, but expressing emotions is something he struggles with.

He’d awkwardly rub the back of his neck, muttering something like, “Well, I reckon I love you too…”

The more you push, the more sincere he gets. Eventually, he’ll say it with more confidence, though he’ll still be a bit embarrassed.

Dutch van der Linde

Dutch would smirk and take your hand, bringing you close. He’s a charmer, so he’d probably have something poetic to say, like, “Ah, darling, I’ve known it all along.”

He’d follow it up with a smooth monologue about how your love fits perfectly into his grand vision of the world, making it feel like part of a bigger plan.

But deep down, you can tell he’s genuinely touched. Dutch loves deeply, even if he doesn't always show it in traditional ways.

Charles Smith

Charles would smile gently when you tell him you love him. He’s calm and thoughtful, and he would take the time to process what you said before responding.

He’d likely say something like, “I’ve been waiting to hear that,” followed by a heartfelt admission of his own feelings.

Charles is the type to cherish the moment, making you feel deeply appreciated and respected.

Micah Bell

Micah would probably laugh it off at first, dismissing your feelings with a sarcastic comment like, “Well, ain’t you just the sweetest thing?”

He’s not someone who openly expresses love, and he might even twist your words to manipulate the situation in his favor.

If he does say it back, it’s likely more of a power play than a genuine expression of affection.

Javier Escuella

Javier would be smooth about it. He’d flash you a charming smile and respond with something like, “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

He’s a romantic at heart, so he’d follow it up with a passionate embrace or a serenade if the mood was right.

You’d feel completely adored in that moment, with no doubt about his love for you.

[leohtttbriar]

for the reverse unpopular opinion meme, Worf!

worf is special bc, to me, he is both the funniest and most serious character in ds9, without particularly trying to be both. which i think has something to do with the invested expression of his cultures and all the values he means to represent. sometimes these characteristics are played for the pathos---the intense empathetic feeling you get when you watch him do and say things that fit in a specific heroic poetic. other times it's played for the humor, his honorable presentation in an honorable fight leading him to say things a little out of context, like "death to the opposition" in a baseball game.

but for all the ways he's a character that comments on how one can perform respect for one's self and multiplicities of loyalty, how cultural values of "heroism" might clash with others, how quite often one's acts are a choice--depending on how aware one is of why they are acting a certain way and what they want to project with their actions, the best part of worf is that he really is sincere.

i've compared worf to kira before and i think that's the thing they have in common and why both those characters work so well with characters like dax--the contrast of a loudly resolved person against a willingly variable one. worf and dax are so interesting in their scenes together because this contrast is true of them but they also interrogate that which is surface-level in each other: worf sees in dax someone who can and will commit in many (often brave) ways, and dax sees in worf a breadth of contradictory feeling and expansive experience. many of their fights as characters is refusing to acknowledge they know this about each other--even expect it.

so my favorite part of worf's character (his sincerity) is showcased in my favorite narrative for worf--the fact that he really does spend all of season 7 grieving his wife. he loved her deeply and does not back away from still feeling it, no matter the hurt. and it feels so appropriate to what these characters were to each other, in the story, and it leads to the best exchange possibly in ds9:

WORF: Perhaps not, but I am certain that you will do whatever is necessary to complete your task. EZRI: And how do you know that? WORF: You are Dax. It is your way.

worf is the kind of character that is meant to hold up some sense of resolve in a show and genre that is all about the anxieties of uncertainty. worf, of course, faces a lot of uncertainty and personal struggles (and probably it's the sort of thing that gets more focus in the next generation, which i haven't seen yet, than in ds9), but his ethic purpose among the cast of characters is to be more sure than not--not by means of arrogance but by means of choice.

other characters like this i feel are generally cast as the leaders/captains of the crew, but the difference between a character like janeway or kirk and a character like worf is that worf is not "sure" out of an obvious external pressure to choose but out of internal impulse to be. he is who he strives to be through his striving. he sometimes does and says the funniest things in the show because he doesn't bend to unspoken social demands of propriety, no matter if he senses these demands or not. and he doesn't feel the need to explain himself which makes his one-liners all the funnier. and it's so easy to see why ursula k le guin was obsessed with him.

would like to conclude the gushing by just saying that michael dorn is extraordinary as an actor imo: he has so much makeup on for the character, normally the most out of everyone in any one scene he's in, and still he turns in a Performance, implying so much interiority and perspective, making even worf's most judgy moments inherently fascinating in their distinct and unmistakable personhood.

[chainsawmascara]

Figuring out where every companion fits in my Suddenly A Thing art school au doodle world is. Going to be interesting.

God's favorite princess who started it all is in general fine arts. She loves charcoal, painting feels like a necessary evil but it's secretly what she's always wanted to do.

Lae'zel is clearly in metalworking/sculpture.

Astarion is in textiles, specifically embroidering and fashion design/history. He has an entire brand built in his head. He works at an upscale fashion store part time. He judges EVERYONE.

Wyll???? Wyll's studying art history and debating going into curation. He's a trust fund kid and his father is deeply disappointed THIS is what he's doing with his college fund. He spends free time in the dark room. Darkroom photography has no place in the world these days, but he loves the classics and waxes poetic about 35mm film and its versatility - he does some oil painting over certain photos for flourish. It's phenomenal. He doesn't think it's that great. Everyone disagrees.

Gale is. Gale is the english major from the sister university who decided a double major is a good idea (it isn't, he is suffering) and hurled himself into abstract/surrealism. (It works very well in his favor when tara steps in his paint and walks on the canvas. He had a three hour anxiety attack and decided he did it on PURPOSE.

(Part of me wants to slam him into dark room photography and i will not elaborate. Maybe he sneaks in to hang out with wyll. He cannot be good at everything but he NEEDS TO BE GOOD AT EVERYTHING. He's a recurring subject of wyll's work.)

Where the FUCK do i put karlach. She's on a roller derby team outside of school. But what does she DO. She's in there somewhere but WHAT DEPARTMENT.

Dammon shares classes with Lae'zel bc that's The Most Obvious Thing. He's a natural.

Isobel? Pottery. Aylin doesn't go here. She's just The Girlfriend also on the roller derby team and hangs around.

Rolan is obviously into impressionism. He's the manet of the school, trying every artist's style in a desperate attempt to find his own despite cal and lia both knowing he HAS his own style and it's GORGEOUS but he just can't see it himself.

Alfira is also in the textile department. Astarion hates everything she makes. She plays music at local clubs on the weekends. Lakrissa is her bartender girlfriend who studies sequential art.

I need to keep this going, I'm on to something here.

But where the FUCK do i put KARLACH.

Edit: 9 fingers is the drug dealer. I went to art school, i promise you there are so many gatherings based solely around that, she'd be there constantly. Jaheira and Halsin are figure study models. Jaheira probably has her hand somewhere else in the school, she'd definitely have something to do with installation pieces, I'll get there let me cook on that one. Minsc is. Fuck. I need to figure that out. We're GOING SOMEWHERE HERE, WE'RE MAKING THIS HAPPEN.

Someone is in the jewelry department it's someone it's SOMEONE maybe lae'zel dips into it bc metal casting NO IT'S MINTHARA. MINTHARA. YES. I WILL JUSTIFY THIS WHEN IT'S NOT 2AM BUT TRUST ME IT'S MINTHARA. Intricate wire wrapping with gem stones she gets from 9 fingers, she has 5000 tools for it and no one realizes how violent whitesmithing tools are but I've BEEN THERE TRUST ME and the wire wrapping gives big spiderweb vibes, it's perfect, i love it, yes, she's in cahoots with astarion on a future design house and the bickering is CONSTANT.

[jiyeonnnn]

pawn, jsc

pairing | j. sc x m!r

synopsis | years after your debut, you've finally reconnected with someone you once adored. this is the night you re-tie the broken strings of your relationship.

cw | sub!top sungchan, dom!bottom reader, masturbation, dacryphilia, praises, implied fwb to lovers. 680 words (kinda short, but meh)

note: im back

"you're so tense, channie~ relax~" a cold gust of wind ran through sungchan's body pleasantly as you whispered to his ear, fans of your hot breaths hitting his face pulled him to his senses of how close you both are to each other.

he squirmed as he felt your thumb rake over his sensitive, leaking tip. you spat once again on his cock and started jerking his shaft at a seductive pace that left him fucking your fist in a matter of seconds.a chuckle escaped your mouth upon seeing his reaction. he's so goddamn needy.

"you're so fucking needy, y'know, puppy? do those pathetic members of nct not take care of you very well?" a whimper came out of his mouth as you had tightened your grip around the base of his length. your action immediately sent the younger jung into an overdrive of thoughts— failing to form coherent words that only a series of disordered nods were sent to you as a response, afraid that he'll get deprived of his most awaited orgasm since earlier. and it is damn well true, shotaro, ten— heck even the most precious taeyong— weren't enough to satisfy his needs for a warm sheath around his dick.

their moans, actions, and expressions were nothing to sungchan. to him, it all seemed like a disarray of greedy sluts that want nothing from him but his cum. the only thing that kept him going were the imaginations of your poetic, melodic and alluring voice filling up his ears every time he hears those "pathetic sluts", as he'd like to call them, moans every moment he thrusts into them. the curves of their bodies weren't quite well-fitted to his calloused hands that did nothing but hold you anytime back then. it drove him crazy that no one has ever leveled to your craziness of making him feel satisfied every night. you're all that he needs, and vice versa.

"i'm always right here, y'know~ always ready to take care of my precious lil mutt~" his skin crawled the moment your salacious lips went into contact with his jawline, trailing down a path of kisses down to his neck and shoulders, claiming and putting your marks to what belongs to you. jung sungchan is yours and no one else's.

your words have always worked on him, causing an unseemly amount of cum to spout from his tip and coat his belly as he leaned his head on your shoulder for support and murmured your name in a low voice.you chuckled at him. pumping him exquisitely through his high, as a poem of sweet nothings fell out of your mouth before leaving a little kiss on his forehead. "that was quick, my prince," you cooed as sungchan could not hold his embarrassment back; cheeks flushing with a very red tint, soft tears brimming his eyes as he looked at you ever-so-loving.

he, of course, did.

you shifted, and sungchan felt his heart drop to his stomach for a brief moment. his fears were allayed as you began to strip off each article of clothing from your skin, exacerbating his cock to clench erected as you straddled him bare.

"i'm not gonna leave you here like this, hyungie~ y'know i care about my puppy so much~" you cared for him, genuinely. you care about him enough to occupy his thoughts every moment he wakes up, leaving him boggled if he has captured your attention for the week or if you've moved on to another, stringing them along like you've done him.

however— every moment that you're with him, making him the center of the universe that you've both created together, even if it's just for a weekend, a day, hours or an inebriated night at a music platform— he swears it's love. sungchan is deeply in love with you. he doesn't care about his broken pride, his ruined reputation, or even his better judgment; he's happy to be a recurring pawn in your game.

"i love you, channie~ and we have all night for me to prove it to you."

[literaryvein-reblogs]

I hope this doesn't sound confusing, but is there a way to strike a balance between using "simple" words and "complex" words? Like, trying to write something that isn't too simple or too verbose.

I think context is the keyword here.

What I do is I just write using my current vocabulary, so that I'm able to convey what I mean as accurately as possible. And if I want to sort of elevate my writing, that's when I might swap out some simpler words with more "complex"/poetic words, or maybe even phrases. But I make sure I'm using the appropriate vocabulary. How do we do this? I'm just going to copy and paste here an excerpt from this writing resource to answer this question:

It’s important to use words and expressions that fit the context so your meaning is clear. For example, different audiences for your writing will require different levels of formality: the vocabulary you use in an academic essay may not be effective for a blogpost targeting a popular audience. Consider the following questions to help you choose the most appropriate words for your audience and purpose. a. What’s the exact meaning of the word? Words may be broadly similar in meaning but differ in important aspects of that meaning. Consider the difference between ‘the fragrance of flowers’  and ‘the odour of rotten eggs.’ Both words refer to the sense of smell, but fragrance has a positive core meaning while odour has a negative one. If you don’t know what a word exactly means, check it in a dictionary. Also look up sample sentences that use your "complex"/fancy word, and see how it is actually used. But, once you truly know what a word means, wordplay can be your friend. b. Is the word attached to a feeling? Compare the two sentences: ‘The freeway snakes through the town’ and ‘The freeway meanders through the town’. In this example, snake indicates negative feelings about the freeway while meander doesn’t. c. What level of intensity does the word show? Many words with similar meanings describe different degrees of the same quality or action. For example, ‘comical’, ‘hilarious’ and ‘side-splitting’  show different degrees of funniness. Think about the intensity of what you want to convey when choosing words. d. Is the word formal or informal? Go for formal words and expressions in business communication and academic writing. In the following examples, the second expression in each pair is more formal than the first: (1) come up with / create (2) one after another / at regular intervals (3) huge / considerable (4) enough / sufficient e. Is the word polite? Words which describe negative qualities or sensitive issues too directly can be offensive. Good communicators consider the feelings of their audience. For example, when writing about childhood obesity, it’s more appropriate to use ‘children with weight problems’ or ‘children of an unhealthy weight’ than ‘fat children’. f. Is the word specific or general? Use words with specific meanings whenever possible to make your message clearer to your audience. For example, avoid overusing general verbs such as ‘be’, ‘do’, ‘have’ and ‘get’, especially in academic writing, as they don’t accurately convey specific ideas. It’s better to use a more specific verb or verb phrase to strengthen your message. Compare the impact of the verbs in these sentences: ‘To be successful, learners need to have high-level literacy skills.’ ‘To be successful, learners need to develop and demonstrate high-level literacy skills.’ g. What other words does the word often go with? Some words are frequently used together and therefore sound more natural in combination. This is called collocation. For example, we say ‘fast train’ not ‘quick train’, but ‘quick shower’ not ‘fast shower’. Similarly, it’s more natural to say ‘highly critical’ rather than ‘deeply critical.’ Additionally, be aware of idioms. Idioms are commonly used word combinations or expressions. These have very specific meanings that are not obvious from the words they contain, e.g. ‘a piece of cake’, ‘get the hang of it’, ‘an Indian summer’, and ‘after a fashion’. Many dictionaries list and define idioms if you look up the component words. For example, try looking up ‘Indian’ or ‘summer’ to find ‘Indian summer’.

But if you have a wide vocabulary that people have difficulty understanding you, maybe you can do the opposite of this and swap out the too complex words with simpler ones, haha!

Lastly, when you read through your work whilst editing, ask yourself: Does this sound natural? Does it sound like your literary voice? Do you recognise yourself in this written work? Or do the simple/complex words you've inserted sound too unfamiliar?

Hope this helps, dear Anon. But if anyone has a better answer for this, do let us know.

[https-hunter]

My thoughts about Hetty’s storyline in 3x8, holes are bad. I wrote this in a discord server, but I thought it would fit here. Spoilers for that episode and a content warning for suicide

That poor, tragic woman. Her demise fits and works so well for her character. She spent her entire life surrounded by people who didn’t care about her and failed her repeatedly. There’s a poetic kind of sadness in the fact that what was supposed to be her saving grace — the telephone — was ultimately what destroyed her. The part when she unravels the cord to save Flower, I gasped and went “oh…oh, Hetty.” She used her greatest shame to save one of her dearest friends. She took that power back from a moment where she truly felt powerless and trapped. And when she talks to Sam and Isaac about it, oh, my heart. She spent her whole life being either feared or unloved and gets to share her deepest secret with people who care for her deeply, all without judgment. Isaac’s line “You were in a hole. Those are hard to get out of” had me feeling things. Hetty learning that there are people who love and support her and that everything Elias and Thomas did wasn’t her fault was such a big moment for her and I’m so proud of her character development. That was a long Hetty ramble, but I love her so much and this episode just strengthened that for me