#it was supposed to make me feel better but it would usually just make me more sad 😭���

[lostfracturess]

say it again — satoru gojo x f!reader

you've been married to satoru gojo for so long, but you've kept it quiet, so you can imagine his satisfaction at finally hearing you call him "husband" in public.

You've managed to keep your marriage to Satoru Gojo under wraps for nearly two year now. It isn't that you're ashamed—far from it.

Being married to one of the most powerful sorcerers simply comes with complications, especially given his clan's tendency to meddle in everything.

So you both agreed to keep it quiet. No flashy announcements, no public displays, just you and him. Sure, it means wearing your ring on a chain under your clothes and careful planning for your living arrangements, but it's worth it for the peace and quiet.

That is, until you slip up at the most mundane possible moment.

You're both at an official appointment regarding some property documentation. The clerk has been droning on about paperwork when she asks about your relationship to Satoru for the forms.

"Oh, he's my husband," you reply absently, still scanning the documents in front of you.

The scratching of Satoru's pen stops abruptly. You look up to find him staring at you with the most ridiculous expression—somewhere between absolutely delighted and utterly self-satisfied.

"What was that?" he asks, a grin spreading across his face.

You blink, realizing what you've just said. "I mean—"

"No, no, say it again." His eyes are practically shining now. "What am I to you?"

"Satoru," you warn, very aware of the confused clerk watching your exchange.

"Come on," he says, leaning closer. "One more time. What am I?"

"We're in public," you hiss, but you can feel your cheeks warming under his gaze.

"Please?" He bats his eyelashes at you in that ridiculous way of his. "For your beloved husband?"

"You're impossible," you mutter, but you can't help the small smile tugging at your lips.

"Impossibly charming? Impossibly handsome? Impossibly perfect as your husband?"

The clerk clears her throat. "Should I... put down 'married' then?"

"Yes!" Satoru answers before you can. "Put down that I am this wonderful person's husband. Their spouse. Their better half. Their—"

"She gets it," you cut him off.

But Satoru isn't done. For the rest of the appointment, he manages to work the word "husband" into nearly every sentence. "As her husband, I think we should sign here." "My lovely spouse and I would like copies of that." "Do you need both myself and my better half to initial this?"

By the time you leave the office, you're ready to strangle him.

"You're enjoying this way too much," you say as you walk to the car.

"Can you blame me?" He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close. "It's not every day I get to hear you call me your husband in public. Usually it's all 'this is Satoru' or 'we're together' or my personal favorite, 'yes, I do unfortunately know him.'"

You roll your eyes, but can't help leaning into him. "You know why we keep it quiet."

"I know, I know. The clan would be insufferable." He presses a kiss to your temple. "But maybe we should tell them anyway? Can you imagine their faces when they find out we've been married this whole time?"

"They'll have our heads for this."

"Perhaps. But you have to admit, the thought is tempting. No more sneaking around, no more hiding that ring." He catches your hand, thumb brushing over where your ring should be. "I want everyone to know exactly who you are to me. And what I am to you. What was it again?"

"Don't push your luck."

"Come on," he coaxes, "just say it once more."

You pretend to consider it. "And what do I get out of this?"

"My eternal love and devotion?" He gives you a long look. "And I'll do the dishes for a week."

"You're supposed to do those anyway," you point out, but he's already pulling you closer, that insufferable smirk of his growing wider.

"Say it again, love," he says, and the way he looks at you then—eyes soft and full of adoration—makes your breath catch in your throat.

All your defenses melt away under that gaze, the one he reserves just for you, the one that makes you forget why you ever try to deny him anything.

"Husband," you breathe, and feel him tense slightly against you.

"Just like that," he whispers. "Though I prefer when you add my name to it."

"Don't get ahead of yourself."

"That's what I do best," he says. "Besides, my darling wife, I think you secretly love it when I am."

The way he says 'wife' sends a shiver down your spine—something you know he notices from the satisfied look in his eyes. "You're impossible."

"Impossibly yours," he corrects, and despite his playful tone, there's something sincere in his gaze. "What do you say? Ready to scandalize some elders?"

Looking at him now, you can't remember why you ever wanted to keep this secret. "With you? Always."

He doesn't wait for more, just leans in and captures your lips with his, and you think maybe going public isn't such a terrible idea after all.

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Meet the Family 3

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

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

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

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.(petite!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: I'm feeling very Little Lies about this.

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

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

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

"So this is the reason you missed Thanksgiving," a butter knife jabs in your direction as you poke at the white turkey meat; this? You look up then at Lloyd as he nearly chokes. 

"Uh, yeah," he coughs behind his fist and swallows, "we were out of the country..." 

"Yes, why would you bother to stay. No use in seeing your mother at the holidays, or the rest of your family," she reproaches. 

"Mom," he groans. 

"For ten years," William adds from his wife's side. "Now you show your face and you look as if you're eating rotten apples." 

"No," Lloyd argues. "It's just... I'm busy and I don't get a lot of time away from work." 

"We all have obligations," Gwenyth argues. 

"Well, I took her away so I could propose," he explains as he presses his fork into the whipped potatoes. "And it worked out perfect, right? Cause now I can bring her to meet everyone." 

Gwenyth hums flatly, "I suppose." She clicks her tongue and takes a healthy gulp of wine. 

"So, Pixie," Lillian drawls from further down, "what do you do for work? Oh let me guess. A librarian?" 

You don't let the suggestion bother you. You don't see it as an insult even if she says it like one. You shake your head. 

"No, I--" you begin and Lloyd stomps your foot so you bite down on your voice.  

"She is a corporate consultant. International corporation," he explains.  

"Oh, wow, sounds busy," Gwenyth remarks. 

"Yes, how will you have time for children?" Lillian challenges. 

"I'm sure they'll find time to make them," Benson chortles over his snifter.  

"Ben, please," William rebukes. 

"We're focusing on the wedding before all that," Lloyd says. 

You peer around as you chew your cheeks in frustration. You're annoyed by how they speak of you as if you're not even there, and so intimately. Yet, you don't have much to say for yourself. This whole facade is tiresome and you really don't care what they think about a made-up job. Or marriage, for that matter. 

"That will be done with quickly," Gwenyth sniffs. "And she will need to quit that job if she wants to do her duty as your wife." 

"I can handle a job and a husband," you blurt out. 

The table quiets as if stunned that you can speak. You blink and Lloyd puts his fork down and touches your arm, "sweet pea--" 

"I highly doubt you'd be marrying him for any other reason than that nest egg promised to him," Lillian scoffs. "You don't need to play a saint with us, darling. Marriage is a transaction in more ways than one; affection, money, sex--" 

"Lilly," William warns and she laughs. 

"Well?" She shrugs. "You do know, the wedding only guarantees a twenty percent payout. He needs an heir to get all of it." She pets her stomach smugly and smiles. "I can assure you it's well worth it. Once you meet Lorelai, you'll see." 

"Oh? Maybe when you meet her, you'll consider being a mother too," Lloyd retorts. 

"Excuse me?" Lillian snarls. "I love my daughter." 

"Of course you so," he sneers. "I'm sure she feels all that love right now as she enjoys her turkey and carrots with the nanny." 

"I can't have her around adults and alcohol. You can't possibly understand," she snaps. "And maybe it's better that you never do. I could never imagine you as a father, especially when you are such a child." 

"Takes one to know one," Lloyd growls. 

"Enough," William barks. "Both of you." 

Ransom laughs loudly at the end of the table. Lloyd shifts and Lillian rolls her eyes. You sigh at your plate. You miss your family. For the first time in years, you truly miss them. 

"What the hell are you laughing at, Hugh? The only reason you're here is because your grandpappy exiled you." 

Linda gasps, "He's not exiled--" 

"Oh, right, of course not, Lin, that's why you're here breaking bread with the peasants. That's what you called us at great grandmother's wake--" 

"Lloyd, watch your mouth," William snarls. "Better yet, shut it." 

Lloyd recoils in his chair and stiffens. His features sharpen then he lowers his chin and picks up his fork. His jaw is stone as he stirs the gravy into his potatoes. You wouldn't call him humbled, more whipped like a dog. These people make you feel something for him you never thought you could; sympathy. 

"I don't care about money that much," you say. "It can't buy respect. Besides, I would never marry a man without a prenup. Whatever Lloyd has will remain his." You push your shoulders back as a yawn tickles in your throat. "At this point, he can keep you lot as well." 

You stand up and take the cloth napkin from your lap. You fold it neatly, "Gwenyth, you can tell whoever cooked dinner that it was delicious. I appreciate you all having me but I'm going to go find a hotel and some peace." You step around the chair and push it into the table, "happy holidays." 

You turn, your insides jittering. What are you doing? Where did that come from? You could say you're tired and not thinking straight, but honestly, you're just so repulsed by these people that your head could explode. They're lucky they only got a a few pieces of shrapnel. 

You march out without looking back. Your cheeks tinge hotly with self-awareness. You've messed it all up. After years of harnessing your emotions under Hansen's thumb, you finally snapped. You blew it all. 

"What she said," another chair scrapes as Lloyd speaks. "Mom, dad, good night." 

You enter the hall and head for the entry way. You hear him beside you. You're still foggy with disbelief. It isn't until you sit to put on your boots that you notice Lloyd. 

"I know, I'm done. Fired." You pull on your leather booties. "I'll take the severance and figure it out." 

"I didn't say so," he says as he grabs a coat from the closet. 

"Um..." 

"You're completely right. We can't stay here. They're all a bunch of pricks and they wonder why I didn't come home for ten years," he pulls on his coat as he speaks. He pushes back his hair then smooths his mustache. "We're better off at the hotel. We'll sleep better there--" 

"We? Lloyd, please. Stay with your family. I need space," you stand and reach past him for your jacket. "Besides, I booked a single queen and it's Christmas Eve." 

"Queen's big enough. You're tiny--" 

"Okay, no, no," you hiss. "It's not happening. Stay--" 

"But I don't want to," he whines. 

"Mr. Hansen," you say. "You're out of your mind." 

"Well, after your blow up, I don't think I'm welcome," he puts his hand on his hip. "So this is your last chance to save your job. You made the mess, you clean it up." 

"Me?" You exclaim. 

He hushes you and step closer, "Pix, you already made a scene, let's not do the encore. I'm gonna grab my bags, alright?" 

"You can't be serious." You say. 

"Hey, I gotta play the loyal husband--" 

"And why exactly is that necessary? Why couldn't you get one of those Tinder girls?" 

"Woah, woah, come on, someone will hear you," he covers your mouth with his hand and you turn your face away with a blech. "Go warm up the car. We'll talk on the ride to the hotel." 

You stare at him. He watches you, as uncertain as you've ever seen him. In the silence, you can hear the din in the other room. 

"Always was such a baby," Lillian laughs venomously. 

"He could've chosen someone without an iron spine," Gwenyth adds. 

You grimace and throw your hands up, "fine, get your things." 

"You're the best," he grabs your shoulders but before he can kiss you, you put your hand up to pinch his nose. He recoils and rubs the tip, "ow." 

"No more of that," you say as you pull your keys out of your pocket. "Thank god I only had one glass of wine." 

You stomp out the front door. The frigid winter air hits you like a bus. Once one even ground, the swirling snow flecks onto your shoulders and hair. Great, now you get to drive in the snow with an unwanted passenger. 

You get in the driver seat and push the ignition. You turn on the heater and the heated seats. At least Hansen pays enough for the add-ons. Still, you’re not sure there’s any compensation equal to what you just went through. 

You look over as the front door opens and closes. Lloyd rolls a giant suitcase with him, another smaller bag strapped on top, and a third in his other hand. You don’t move as you watch him descend the steps, easing the wheels over the edge one-by-one. 

He comes down the long walk and jerks as his loafers slip on the icy pavement. It would be funny if you weren’t so damn exhausted. You steadies himself and continues on. You should get out and help him. You don’t. 

You pop the trunk with the button. He loads in his bags as you check the rear view. He comes around the passenger side and pulls the door open. He lets out an obnoxious ‘brrrr’ as he drops into the seat next to you. You shift gears as he shuts the door. 

“Ugh, I feel so much better getting out of there,” he says as he adjusts the seat, making room for his long legs. 

“Why?” 

“Um, why not? My family is the worst--” 

“No, why did you drag me into this?” You ask as you lean into the wheel and squint over it. The dark, the snow, the unplowed roads, it’s like the universe can’t stop throwing you obstacles. 

“You want the real answer or the nice answer?” He replies. 

“Mr. Hansen,” you growl. 

“Right, I had no other choice.” 

“No other choice?” You repeat. 

“Look, those long-legged beauties back home, they’re fun, but they don’t got much else going on. I needed someone who could play along,” he explains. 

“Play along?” 

“Yeah, I mean, you’re smart so--” 

“I’m smart...” 

“I wouldn’t hire you if you weren’t--” 

“Jeez, wow, Mr. Hansen, thank you so much. You think I’m so smart, so you should know I’m smart enough to know better than to believe you. You think I’m desperate,” you turn slowly onto the next street. “You think I have nothing else going on.” 

“No, that’s not--” he shifts in his seat. 

“It’s exactly what you think,” you huff. “Well, I do. I have a flight in...” you pause and check the time on the dash, “five hours so when we get to the hotel, I’m going to sleep and you’re going to let me. Then I’m going to catch my flight and the curtain can be pulled on this whole theatre.” 

“Your words, not mine. I don’t think you’re desperate.” 

You don’t respond. You’re tired. He just can’t leave things alone. He always has to say something. You wonder if he was truly left to his own thoughts, if his head would combust. 

“I’m actually impressed,” you says, “you held your own.” 

“Sir,” you utter. 

“It was good. Entertaining. I mean, all these years, you never once talked back to me but wow, that was... majestic, really. You didn’t even wait to see my mother’s face. Or my sister’s.” 

“Your family is weird,” you blurt out. “Sorry, uh, I didn’t mean--” 

“I mean, yeah, we probably are but I don’t really have anything to compare it to,” he says. 

You nod. He has a point. Yet, while that horde of entitled brats might explain his personality, it can’t excuse it. 

The hotel’s marquee shines like a beacon as you steer into the lot. You yawn and shut off the engine. You let yourself out and drag your feet around to the trunk. You take out your carry-on as Lloyd hovers at the other side. 

“All of your stuff, out,” you say. “I’m going straight to the airport in the morning. Checkout is ten so as long your gone by then, I don’t care what you do.” 

He’s quiet but he obeys. He takes his bags out and sets them on the ground. He pulls the rolling bag and slings his smallest bag on his shoulder. You snap the trunk shut and turn, shuffling across the icy tarmac. 

You enter through the automatic doors and cross the desolate lobby. You check in with your ID but as you look for your credit card, Lloyd flicks his between his fingers and offers it up to the clerk. 

“It’s on me,” he insists. 

You won’t argue. You really don’t trust him to leave by checkout. As you head for the elevators, he takes a deep breath. He doesn’t speak until you’re behind the sliding doors of the compartment. 

“You know, I’m still your boss so you can’t just order me around,” he says. 

You glance over at him. “Right, won’t happen again, sir.” 

“It could have been worse, you know? I could’ve actually had you come all the way out here just to drop off some gifts. If you think about it, you got a free dinner and some wine--” 

“Yeah, it was a great time,” you say dryly. “Mr. Hansen, I’m too tired to lie any more. Tonight was one of the worst nights of my life so no, I don’t think it could be worse.” 

The doors open and you stride out. You swipe the card at the door corresponding to the number written in the folio and let yourself in. He follows closely, nearly running over your heels with his suitcase. 

You take your bag to the bed and take out the cotton pajamas stuffed inside just for tonight. You bring them with you into the bedroom, doing your best to ignore your guest. Lloyd wanders along the wall and finds his way to the mini fridge. 

You’re in no rush to change, only to get to bed. You trade your dress and stockings for the cotton two-piece and emerge. You shove your bag and clothes beside the night table and slide under the blankets. You pull them up to your shoulders. 

“They got wine, tequila, beer--” 

“I’m going to sleep,” you insist. 

“The alcohol will help.” 

“No, it will make waking up even harder.” 

“After tonight, I think you need a shot.” 

“Mr. Hansen,” you grumble and cover your head. 

“Fine, more for me.” He snickers. 

You’re happy he can’t see the irritation on your face. You might just be better off to let him drink whatever. Eventually, he’ll have to pass out. At least, you can only hope he does. 

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been trying to focus on thinking about things I enjoy about the idea of the TWST anime. And regarding overblots, I think an anime version would really help illustrate (even more) how terrifying the process is. I really like how the manga shows Riddle's OB, and I love anime as a medium, so I'm pretty hyped to see how it will be conveyed in it.

I really hope they accentuate the horror of it- I'm aware that they might not go all in w the horror like I would personally like, but the thought still excites me. What kind of music will they play? Will the animation change like it does in some animes when the characters are distressed (wobbly lines, glitchy effects)...? What sort of directions will the voice actors get? I mean, they already voiced the game, but anime gives them more room to do voice stuff. I'm really hyped for this aspect tbh...

And I'm also excited for the possibility of dubs, since I'm quite a fan of the whole dubbing world. (I know some ppl have their fears about this last possibility, but in my case even if it turns out to not be so good, I think we could still have a good time w something like that. Plus I've seen some popular eng dub actors hyped about the anime and wanting to be casted for certain characters)

I also wanted to apologize for my previous ask ᕙ⁠(⁠⇀⁠‸⁠↼⁠‶⁠)⁠ᕗ I already did so in the comments, but I felt bad about doomposting on your inbox. My mind's first reaction is usually to see the negative first and become anxious, and it's something I'm working on, but it sometimes goes out of hand. But now that a bit has passed, and specially thanks to your advice, I can sit down and try to focus on the things that excite me rather than the ones that scare me. Sure, building too much expectation could backfire at the end— but as you said, we have little to no information at this point. So I think focusing on the things I'd like to see is a better usage of my time. If they turn out to disappoint me... That's something I'll worry about next year, I'll suppose. I'm still a bit anxious and scared, but there's also lots of things I'm hyped for. I'll try to take your advice and focus on those. 🫂 Sorry if my previous negativity made you uncomfortable.

[Referencing this news! Asker’s prior post here.]

I’ve seen a lot of fans speculating that the OB transformation sequences will resemble magical girl ones! While that’s a fun idea, I do feel like it makes more sense for the anime to portray OB as something scary and all-consuming, similar to how it is depicted at the end of animated dorm commercials and in the manga. For the characters experiencing them, it’s not meant to be glamorous… All that agony, the dripping ink leaking out of their orifices and dripping like blood. Overblot looks incredibly horrific, and I think that should come through in the animation—whether they change the usual style for these segments or keep it the same.

I think the anime would reuse (or maybe do remastered versions of?) the Twst soundtrack for a lot of the show. The compositions are already there, so might as well. Maybe experiencing the anime will help to make the music more memorable, since it seems the game soundtrack alone isn’t doing it for some fans.

No clue about the JP voice cast; I did see some people worrying that they could replace the game’s voice cast for the anime, but as I’ve mentioned already, that’s an unfounded claim. If the usual VAs are there, surely they won’t just reuse the already recorded lines from the game?? 😂 I’d think they’d at least have to rerecord those based on how the script and its scenes are laid out, plus additional dialogue to fill in the gaps (such as new scenes).

No confirmation of an English (or other language) dubs yet either! (Again, this is another topic related to the anime that sparks worry, but I must stress that it’s pointless to get into a tizzy about something that isn’t concrete yet.) But yes, I’ve already seen English VAs expressing interest in certain characters; Daman Mills wants to audition for Malleus, Alejandro Saab has made it known he has Twst on his radar and wants to voice Leona, etc. (The latter has done Twst dorm leader impressions for fun before; I think Mr. Saab could make for a decent Leona or even Malleus!)

Don't worry about the previous ask ^^ I think it's better that we discuss these things with one another rather than post or tweet into the void and allow those negative feelings to fester. If you want to view it in a different way, think of it like the OB boys actually getting therapy/finding someone to confide in instead of being allowed to stew in their own emotions and risking OB a second time. Sometimes all it takes is that gentle nudge or a reminder to step back and take a deep breath. When we let our emotions get the best of us, we end up thinking and acting in irrational ways, and then that can lead to people--whether yourself or others--getting hurt.

[myhyperfixatedmess]

Bound II

Tom Riddle x Reader.

In which your betrothal is getting harder to deal with.

I II

Word count: 1.4k

Content Warning: None

–––

"You and Riddle!?" screeched Walburga, her hands flying to grip your own. Seraphina looked slightly aghast but kept her usual air of composed indifference.

You lowered your gaze to your lap, fiddling with your fingers.

"Is it really that surprising?" you muttered, feeling your face heat up in humiliation.

"Surprising? No," Walburga said with a scoff. "Scandalous? Absolutely." Her lips twisted into a sly grin as if relishing the drama of it all.

"Exactly," Seraphina chimed in, her tone quieter but no less sharp. "It does seem a curious choice for your parents."

"Curious is an understatement," Walburga cut in, leaning closer. "Tom Riddle? He’s not even properly Gaunt. What a joke!" She laughed, but it was edged with something darker, more calculating than pure mockery.

You sighed, bracing yourself for her tirade.

"Let’s be honest," she went on, waving a hand dismissively. "The Gaunts were barely respectable before, and now? A fading pureblood line, clinging to scraps of glory. Sure, they’ve got Slytherin blood, but Tom? That halfblood is..." She cut herself off, her voice was laced with disgust, but you caught the flicker of envy behind her words.

"Walburga," Seraphina said, a subtle warning in her tone. "He’s not without talent."

"Talent, maybe," Walburga conceded with a shrug. "But what use is talent without a proper name or fortune? Honestly, I wouldn’t waste my time if I were you." Her gaze slid to you, critical and vaguely amused. "Though, I suppose you don’t have much of a choice, do you?"

You bit the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to stay composed. "I’d appreciate it if you didn’t remind me."

"Don’t take it personally," Walburga said breezily. "If anything, I’m jealous. It’ll be entertaining to watch him rise—and maybe fall." She smirked, clearly enjoying the thought.

"Entertaining?" you echoed, incredulous.

"Oh, come now," Walburga said with a sly smile. "Riddle’s not just some brooding nobody. He’s dangerous. Ambitious. Cunning. If I didn’t know better, I’d say your parents think they’re making a power play."

Seraphina nodded slightly, her calm demeanor unshaken. "Perhaps they see something in him that others don’t."

"Or," Walburga interjected, leaning back with a theatrical sigh, "they’ve made a mistake. Either way, darling, I’ll be watching closely. This should be fun."

You stood abruptly, the weight of their words pressing down on you. "If you’ll excuse me," you said stiffly, turning on your heel before they could say more.

Their voices faded as you walked away, Walburga’s laughter lingering in your ears. You just needed to get away—from Walburga, from this marriage, from everything.

The Hogwarts Express was a hive of chatter and excitement as students bustled aboard, eager to return to their familiar routines. You navigated through the train, searching for an empty compartment or at least one with less commotion. Walburga’s words still echoed in your mind, making your already tense shoulders even stiffer. Her dramatics were typical, but for once, they felt too close to the truth.

Finally, you found a quieter compartment at the end of the train. As you slid the door closed and settled into the corner, you allowed yourself a moment to breathe. The prospect of seeing Tom again loomed large, but you hoped the train ride would grant you some respite. The door creaked open moments later, shattering your fragile bubble of peace. A tall figure stepped inside with an air of practiced confidence.

“Mind if I join you?” You looked up, your stomach sinking. Of course, it had to be him.

“Tom,” you said, voice strained but polite. “There are plenty of other compartments.”

“And yet, none quite as intriguing as this one,” he replied smoothly, sliding the door shut behind him.

He took a seat across from you, stretching his legs out just far enough to invade your space. His dark eyes lingered on you with that same unnerving intensity you’d felt back home.

“I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” you muttered, folding your arms defensively.

“Neither did I,” he admitted, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “But then again, we have much to discuss, don’t we?”

You frowned, unsure where this was going. “Discuss? Like what?”

“Our... arrangement.” The way he said the word sent a shiver down your spine.

“I didn’t think there was much to discuss,” you replied, keeping your tone even. “The terms are set, aren’t they? Or do you have some objection?”

Tom leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Not an objection, no. But I find myself curious about you. Surely you feel the same about me.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his candor. “Curious? About what, exactly?”

“Everything,” he said, his voice soft but commanding. “Your thoughts, your ambitions, your fears... your opinions on the arrangement, for instance.”

You hesitated, unsure if this was a trap. “It doesn’t matter what I think, does it? The decision has already been made.”

Tom’s smirk grew. “Perhaps. But you underestimate the power of influence.”

His words hung heavy in the air, their meaning layered and elusive.

“Is this how you plan to win me over?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “By being cryptic and unsettling?”

Tom chuckled, a low, smooth sound that sent another shiver down your spine. “Win you over? You assume I need to.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You think I’ll just accept this without question?”

“I think,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, “that we both know how to make the best of a situation. And that, despite your protests, there’s a part of you that finds all this... intriguing.”

His words struck a nerve, not because they were entirely false but because they were too close to the truth.

“What do you want from me, Tom?” you asked, your tone sharper than you intended.

“For now?” He leaned back, folding his arms and watching you like a hawk.

“Honesty.”

You opened your mouth to respond but were interrupted by the compartment door sliding open again. The train compartment door slid open, and you immediately wished you could disappear. Walburga Black, in all her imperious glory, stepped inside, her sharp eyes flitting from you to Tom. Seraphina followed closely behind, her expression neutral but her gaze assessing.

“Well, well,” Walburga drawled, a sly grin curling her lips. “What have we here? I didn’t expect to find you in such... interesting company.”

Tom, seated across from you, leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable but his dark eyes flickering with faint amusement. He didn’t rise to greet her, which only seemed to amuse Walburga more.

“Walburga,” you greeted stiffly, your hands tightening in your lap.

“Riddle,” she said, her tone deliberately clipped as she addressed him. “You’ve managed to snag quite the prize, haven’t you?” She gave a pointed glance at you before settling into a seat beside Seraphina.

Tom offered her a polite smile, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes. “I suppose I have.”

Walburga let out a low laugh, her fingers idly playing with the hem of her sleeve. “I must admit, it’s quite the surprise. I’d have thought the Gaunts would aim higher, but then again, they’re not exactly in a position to be choosy these days, are they?”

Your jaw tightened, but before you could respond, Tom’s voice cut through the air like a blade. “I wasn’t aware you were so invested in my family’s affairs, Miss Black.”

Her grin widened, undeterred. “Oh, not at all. I just find it fascinating, that’s all. A match like this... it does raise questions.” She turned to you, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Don’t you think so, [Y/N]?”

You hesitated, your gaze darting to Tom, who watched you with an unnerving intensity. “I think it’s none of your concern,” you said, forcing your voice to stay steady.

Walburga tilted her head, clearly enjoying herself. “Touchy, aren’t we? Relax, darling. I’m merely curious. After all, this isn’t just any pairing. It’s practically a spectacle.”

“Enough, Walburga,” Seraphina murmured, her tone mild but firm.

Walburga huffed but relented, though not before throwing one last smirk in Tom’s direction. “Well, I suppose we’ll see how this all plays out, won’t we? Best of luck to you both.” Her voice dripped with faux sincerity as she rose, brushing past you and out of the compartment with Seraphina in tow.

The door slid shut, leaving you and Tom in a charged silence.

“She’s charming,” Tom said dryly, his lips curling into a faint smirk.

You groaned, dropping your head into your hands. “I’m sorry. She’s always like that.”

“No need to apologize,” he replied smoothly. “People like her are easy to handle. They talk too much and think too little.”

You couldn’t help but glance at him, surprised by his calm demeanor. “You didn’t seem bothered at all.”

He shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

[jelzorz]

197.

It feels like treason to think it. Opeli would feel guilty for it on a normal day, she thinks, but the situation is dire and she wonders if anything will ever feel normal again. The Banther Lodge is a far cry from the castle, and it is crowded enough without the kingslaying elephant in the room.

She watches Soren fight Rayla over it.

She watches Ezran hide his tears.

She watches the Kingslayer walk free.

Well, she thinks. There are certainly worse things than thinking it. There are worse things than talking to her friends, her family, who also happen to be part of the council. Worse things have been done than calling a meeting behind Ezran's back, who is the King, yes, but a child first, and he has enough on his hands without this too.

"I don't think Prince Callum can continue being a part of this council."

Soren grimaces. Corvus shifts uneasily on the spot. Barius makes a face and fiddles with his hands.

Opeli stares them down. "Do you disagree?"

A pause. A sigh. Soren huffs and glances through the cellar kitchen window to make sure Callum is still preoccupied with defending Rayla and her murderous father from anyone who dares to look at them the wrong way. "No," he mutters after a moment. "You're right. You usually are, but this... Is Ezran's decision, not ours."

Opeli scowls, some misplaced maternal instinct raising her hackles. "He's dealing with enough," she says shortly. "He's eleven years old, his home has been destroyed, and his own brother returns with the elf that killed—"

"We get it," interrupts Corvus tiredly. "And we're not disagreeing with you. You're right. But what are you asking us to do, exactly? Kick Callum off the council? Is more internal conflict really what we need right now?"

"With respect, High Cleric," says Barius, "are we even supposed to be having this meeting? Isn't it breaking some sort of law to be talking about this before talking to King Ezran?"

Opeli wrinkles her nose at that, the wrongness of this heavy in her gut. "It's not illegal to bring up a concern with members of the council in confidence," she grumbles. It's a weak argument, but it's been played in court before, and she's not above playing the same dirty tactics to keep her king safe. "We are Ezran's council," she asserts. "Our duty is to him and to Katolis and I don't believe Callum's priorities are quite the same. He—" She grimaces too and locks eyes with Soren. "He's starting to remind me of your father."

Soren snorts at that. "Don't I know it," he mutters, and Opeli sees the truth of it in his eyes. Soren would know better than anyone what magic can do to people, the kind of power it gives them, the cleverness they think wielding it grants. "But Opeli, seriously, what are we going to do? We can't just arrest him. All this aside, he's still the prince. He's Ez's brother."

"One might argue that King Harrow was his stepfather, and you can see how much he cares about that."

Another pause. The room flinches because they all know that it's true, what an insult it is to Harrow's memory that his murderer would be allowed to dine at his son's table.

"Have you asked Ezran what he wants to do?" asks Corvus at last.

Opeli winces. "I didn't want to burden him with it," she mumbles. "I don't know that he knows what to do and frankly... I don't either."

"A first," says Barius, not unkindly. "It's all right to be concerned, High Cleric. It's all right not have all the answers."

"Yes, well." Opeli clears her throat and bows her head, hiding her weakness in the way her hood falls over her eyes. "I'm not particularly good at not having answers. I've come to you three hoping you might have them instead."

"I don't think we can help anymore than you," says Corvus wryly. "But our duty is to Ezran, the same as you. Soren and I won't let anything happen to him. The same way Barius won't. The same way you won't. Okay?"

"Call it a secret council pact," adds Soren with a grin. "If Callum does anything else stupid, we step in, no matter what. Deal?"

Hardly, thinks Opeli, even as she nods. She takes what little solace she can get.

[wazzappp]

I took a shot at writing!

Thank you to @rokhal for letting me mess with your dream sharing idea its absolutely DELIGHTFUL

And thank you to @moosemonstrous for beta reading for me. Its so fucking cool to have an author I admire so much giving me advice <33!!

Basically, RE! Robbie having Jill’s nightmare from RE3 remake, and all the consequences that follow

A loud crash of thunder woke Robbie up. He blinked a few times and unstuck his face from the desk he had apparently fallen asleep on. Again. His mouth felt unbearably dry in the way that tended to happen after a good hard sleep. At least he had a glass of water ready to help him wake up.

He sipped it and let the sound of rain pattering surround him. It was usually so quiet this far out in the woods. It almost made it hard to sleep. There was no ambient sound of the freeway, no trains passing or people talking when they walked by. No neighbors banging on the door drunk at 3 AM pleading for their exes to take them back. Pros and cons to everything, he supposed.

He grabbed the book on local wildlife he had been attempting to read before drifting off and headed to his room. His back never really hurt after falling asleep in odd positions anymore. That kinda made sense. If he could come back from a fractured arm after a few minutes, a pulled muscle or two shouldn't be anything to write home about. 

He still didn't really know how to feel about… all that. At least the only thing he seemed to do was heal fast. The black mold leaking out of his eyes and writhing around the day he found out about his infection seemed to be a one time deal, thank god. Gabe hadn't been so lucky, but he seemed to be coping with his new plant powers fairly well. Were they plants? Technically speaking, the flowers were made of mold and he was pretty sure mold was something different. Would it be suspicious for him to ask the BSAA lady for a book on fungi? He still had so many questions.

They hadn’t really talked much about each other's powers - god. Powers. What the fuck was his life - after the initial ‘bike-meets-garden’ incident. He had questions for sure, he just wasn’t sure how to go about asking them. Really, what was he supposed to say? ‘Hey Gabe, I’m trying really hard to be chill about your mold minion deal, but I gotta ask; Why do you glow?’ Would Gabe even know the answer? Robbie really just hoped it didn't hurt. 

Maybe the BSAA were keeping him and Gabe to see if they could find a better cure. That seemed almost too good to be true. He shuddered at the memory of their last attempt. on the Baker Estate. Bodies shriveling up and breaking into pieces like statues made of crusted over baking soda, screaming all the while before falling mercifully silent.

He reached the end of a hallway that felt way too long and opened the door as quietly as he could so he wouldn't wake Gabe. The fact that their rooms were on two different floors really didn't make a difference. He set his stuff down on the side table next to his bed before flopping down onto the mattress. God he was tired. The day felt grimy on his skin, even though he couldn't remember what he had been doing when the sun was out, and a shower seemed wasteful at this point. A little face wash and then he could go back to bed and wake up without horribly crusty eyes in the morning.

He forced himself up and walked over to the bathroom. His private bathroom, jeez, what a luxury. Turned on the water and waited for it to warm up. He felt a tickle in the back of his throat.

Robbie coughed a couple of times and felt a bit of phlegm come up. Oh, come on. Being sick with one weird disease wasn't enough? He spat it out into the sink so it could drain along with the rushing water. 

It was black.

He stared as it swirled around and around in the sink. He coughed again. More black. More and more and more until it was dribbling in an almost constant stream down his chin. Okay. Alright. This had happened once before when he first started his medicine. It had sucked but he was ultimately fine. This was probably fine too.

He met his own eyes in the mirror and tried to take a steadying breath. The mold had started dripping out his nose. His left eye blackened and seemed to deflate. Shriveling and sinking into his skull as more mold spewed out of the rotting socket like a fountain. He wheezed and slapped his hand over it to try and stop everything inside him from leaking out. 

There was a sort of snapping in his right eye as blood vessels there started to burst. The same feeling as breaking the last few nerves holding a loose tooth in. In seconds it was entirely bloodshot. His iris lightened from it’s usual dark brown to a jaundiced yellow. The same eyes covering the creature in the boathouse that called itself Jack Baker.

He stumbled back from the mirror and felt something in his jaw break loose. He reached up to try and feel what was wrong but stopped when he caught more black spreading up his hands. His scars formed deep grooves as his flesh molded over and shrunk down to the bone. It was creeping steadily up his arms, shooting through his veins like little spiderwebs, turning his skin the dull gray of a long dead corpse. He grabbed at his arms, desperately trying to stop it from spreading, only to spill more black as his new claws dug deep into what should have been skin and muscle. It didn't even hurt. He didn't feel anything except the panic presently choking him.

The endless black spilled over and dribbled into little puddles on the floor. He shuffled further away from the mirror until his back was against the wall and watched the mold spread across the linoleum as it had spread across himself. It was spilling over the edges of the sink now. Growing on the mirror. On the cabinets. On the walls. Each part of the bathroom that he made a habit out of bleaching meticulously was covered in black speckles. Everywhere he had stepped, each place his fingers brushed. Everything he touched was rotting.

There was a gun on the counter.

Something that sounded like distress came out of his throat. It was hard to tell. It was garbled and choked and chittering. Its reverberations ran deep into his chest and rattled his teeth. The sound was utterly inhuman. He forced himself forwards and grabbed the gun. He didn’t remember how it got there. Has it always been there? He couldn't remember.

His sharp fingertips were digging into what remained of the countertop, and he was having trouble fitting his claw through the trigger guard. He eventually managed. This wouldn't kill him, he knew that. But maybe it would allow enough time for Gabe to run away and get a head start before he totally lost himself. Would it be worse for Gabe to find him with a hole in his head or as a rotting husk of himself, attacking everything in sight?

He chittered again. A strip of flesh fell off his cheek and landed in the sink with a wet plap. 

Robbie raised the gun up to the side of his head and squeezed his eyes shut. Or eye, rather. It didn't matter. For some reason he could still see his reflection. Whatever was doing this wanted him to see it through to the very end. The teeth under his horrible red eye were starting to peek through his rapidly decaying cheek.

The bang of the gun sounded off alongside his garbled shrieking.

-

Shrieking that woke him up.

No chittering that shook his skull and disjointed jaw. Just plain screaming. He never thought he would be so happy to hear it. He huffed, trying to catch his breath. Checked his hands; no traces of black mold. Just tanned skin striped with scars and damp from a cold sweat.

He breathed a sigh of relief and let himself relax back into the twisted sheets he had apparently been thrashing around in. There was a loud thump from downstairs, like someone had fallen down, which was swiftly followed by smaller thumps. A sound he had grown to recognize as Gabe rushing up the steps. He sat up and mentally prepared to put his brother back to bed.

Gabe slammed the door to Robbies room open before he could even stand up. His eyes were red, just in the normal way. Not the nightmare red and yellow. Tears were streaking his face. He sobbed and ran at Robbie, tackling him in a hug.

“You aren't allowed to do that!” He cried into Robbies chest.

Robbie held him close and stroked his hair, “Sorry, Gabe. I didn’t mean to wake you. I can try and get some good headphones for you so it won't happen again.”

Gabe sniffled against his shirt. He adjusted himself so he could glare up at Robbie. It would be adorable if he weren't so clearly upset. 

“What? No, I don't care about that. I mean you can't do that!”

“I don't - I’m really sorry Gabe I don't know what you’re talking about.” Gabes glare got narrower. He raised his pointer finger to the side of his head and mimed ‘pow’.

Robbies spine went ridgid. What the fuck.

“I don't care how sick you get. I don't care if you heal fast. Don't. Do. That.” He felt his heart break a little. Gabe had buried his face back into Robbies shirt. That was nice. It made sure Robbie didn't have to try and hide whatever the hell his expression was.

Something repeated in the back of his head: It gave you my nightmares. That was what Gabe had said. It felt like an eternity ago but it had probably been just a little over a month. 

“I didn’t--” Jesus, motherfuck, what the hell was he supposed to do? Maybe if he just started talking, he could find the right thing to say. Was there even a right thing to say at all? No parenting manual he’d ever read had a guide for what to do if you started sharing dreams with the person you looked after. Especially horrific nightmares like the one he just had.

Breathe. Focus. Gabe is upset. You know what to do when Gabe is upset. 

Robbie pulled him closer, “It's okay. Everything is going to be okay.” He really couldn't guarantee that, but it had to be said for his own sake as much as it was Gabes. “I’m so sorry you had to see that. I didn’t want you to see that.” I didn’t want to see it either. “I don't think that's going to happen. I think it was like your dream. You remember what I said then, right? It’s just our brains coming up with what scares us most.”

“That's what scares you?”

“Yeah. If I–--” he swallowed, “if I'm not… myself, then I can't take care of you.”

“I get it. I didn’t like losing myself either.” God, he was so stupid. Stupid and selfish, of course Gabe knew what that was like. He had been stripped of his own self control, changed on a fundamental level and had powers Robbie was too scared to ask questions about. Here he was, running away from things, and his brother was stuck paying the price for it.

Robbie tried to talk past the lump in his throat. “I'm so sorry, Gabe.” He could feel tears leaking down his cheeks. He prayed to God they were normal. “I don’t - I don't know how any of this works and it freaks me out a little. You don't scare me, I meant that when I said it, but it’s hard for me to understand things I can’t see. I don’t see stuff in my head the way you do.” He took a moment to breathe and leaned back so he could get Gabe to look up at him. “Do you think you can explain how it works to me? I think you might know better than I do.”

Gabe scrubbed his eyes and sat up. “I have an idea, but I don't know for sure. I’m really not like Eveline, Robbie. She talked like she knew how everything worked and I just don’t. I could be really wrong.”

“That's okay. I don't expect you to know everything, just do your best.”

Gabe kept his eyes down, “So, the plants and my fr- flowers. My flowers. They connect and talk to each other. You can do that with people too, Robbie. Evie used it to tell everyone what to do, but I think you can just make it smaller. Like connecting just two people.” Gabe looked up at him, “I think sometimes, in our sleep, you and me talk like my flowers. Talking without talking. Showing each other things.”

Okay. That was a lot. It made sense, it did. But accepting that would mean that his brain had been more affected than he thought, that his body was probably more affected than he thought. If they could do this, what else was possible? Knock it off. Solve the problem in front of you.

“Alright. Do you know how to stop it?”

Gabe shook his head. “No. I thought my flowers made you sick and that was why we dreamed together, but it's not that. It takes a lot to break that connection.” Robbie remembered Gabe stomping on one of his flowers until it was nothing but a smudge on the forest floor. Probably not a good method to repeat. 

He fiddled with the hem of his shirt, “Maybe we could just try to have good dreams instead?”

Robbie let out a short laugh, “That would be nice. I’d like to have good dreams with you. What would we dream about?”

“Hmmmmm… maybe ice skating? I can actually try it now! Ninja Wolf went ice skating before and he looked so awesome. He hopped on his swords and skated around on them, Robbie!”

Robbie would almost assuredly fall on his ass right away, but he would gladly take a dream about repeatedly slipping on ice over what their nightmares had been in the past. “That sounds nice. Do you want me to put you to bed downstairs and see if you can dream that?”

“No!” Gabe hugged Robbie tight again.

“Okay, that's okay, hey,” he started petting Gabes head again, “do you want to just stay with me tonight?” Gabe nodded and sniffled. “Alright, here let's just get a little more comfortable.”

He leaned back until he was resting just a little upright on his pillow so Gabe could lie down. His arms stayed wrapped tight around Robbies torso, like he was scared he’d disappear. Robbie shimmied the blankets up and over to cover them both.

“You know I’m not going anywhere, right?”

Gabe hugged him tighter and looked up at him very seriously, “I don't care if our dreams are close. I want to be actually close.”

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry. “I want that too.”

They slept dreamlessly. 

[bestanimal]

As promised, here is a post about my immortal South American Bumblebee Catfish (Microglanis iheringi) to serve as Actinopterygii propaganda.

I first got into fish-keeping after getting a job at PetSmart in 2014. I figured I needed some experience if I was about to answer peoples’ pet questions (spoiler: most people buying pets ended up being a lot stupider than I thought.) I had a 10 gallon tank with a dwarf gourami and 2 platys for a bit, before I found the 10 gallon too limiting and upgraded to a 30 gallon. The tank needed some sort of bottom feeder to occupy the lower levels of the tank, so I opted for a South American Bumblebee Catfish over a school of Kuhli Loaches. Here’s proof; pay extra attention to the dates:

I’ve tried to add other bottom feeders to the tank, like cory catfish, a bristlenose pleco, and even a sumo loach, but… I’m not sure if the bumblebee catfish was bullying them or if he’s just put a curse on the tank, because none of them lived more than a few months. I’ve since stopped trying to add other bottom feeders.

I still wanted Kuhli Loaches though, so I figured I would just try them after the catfish passed away. Every source online said they lived 3-5 years “under ideal conditions.” I didn’t mind waiting 5 years to get some kuhlis.

I quit PetSmart after two years, went to university, have gone through several jobs and life changes. The 30 gallon tank has seen many fish come and go. An outbreak of Ich in 2019 took my last tetra, and weakened my angelfish. Eventually left with some cherry barbs and the bumblebee catfish, I decided to make an all Asian fish tank, as they seemed to be the hardiest (and my inner zookeeper was screaming at me to at least co-habitate fish from the same continent.)

It is 2024 and I currently have a pearl gourami, a school of black ruby barbs, a school of glass catfish, a female Betta, one very old cherry barb…

… and one South American Bumblebee Catfish.

Surely Kuhli Loaches would fit the Asian theme better. But no. This catfish will never die.

It’s not that I want him to die; I don’t wish any ill on him. I just can’t get any other bottom feeders with him in there. And this fish that is supposed to get to 3-5 years old “under ideal conditions”… I have had for almost 10 years. This is the fish equivalent of a 200 year old man:

I switch up the tank’s decor seasonally for enrichment, and this year the fish got a new haunted house. The catfish loves houses, so here he is celebrating his 9th Halloween.

I never even named him. I go back and forth between “Methuselah” and “Rasputin”, but usually just default to “The Immortal Catfish.”

If you ever feel like you can’t go on, just remember that Methuselah/Rasputin/The Immortal Catfish is out there somewhere, living it up (currently in a seasonally-appropriate gingerbread house ornament), and if he can keep on truckin you can too.

. __ .

[twst-aceofhearts]

너무 밉지만 사랑해

[I Hate That I Love You]

a/n: IM BACK HAHA the translation for the title might be a bit off :P - it's either that or "I Hate You, Yet I Love You" yall missed me? <3

~no tw~

words: 859 (768 without bonus)

taglist: @luxaryllis @thegoldencontracts @waterthatsmoe

Jamil hates Yuu. He hates everything about them. He hates how Yuu keeps flirting with him. He hates how Yuu smiles at him with those pretty lips—

He bangs his head against the table with a loud groan, trying to stop the thoughts, which were interrupted by obnoxious footsteps coming his way.

“Here we go again,” he mutters, glaring over his shoulder before turning to face Yuu, folding his arms across his chest. “Don’t you have better things to do than flirt with someone who clearly doesn’t want you?”

Jamil stares at Yuu, his expression and voice cold.

“Nope~” Yuu flashed a grin, taking a few steps closer.

“I hate their smile. I hate their smile—” Jamil reminds himself in his mind, trying to calm his heart to no avail. 

“You should. It’s a waste of mine and your time.” He scoffs before turning slightly away from Yuu.

“C’mon~...don’t be like that, I have something for you.”

Jamil frowns, a bit perplexed. He glances towards Yuu again. “Something for me? Like what?”

Yuu pulled out a red rose from their back with a sheepish smile, letting the mere color of the rose do the talking. 

Jamil stares at the flower for a moment, then up at Yuu, before quickly looking away. He doesn’t say anything, trying to fight off the blush forming on his cheeks. Yuu could tell he was secretly flattered, yet doing his best to keep up the cold facade.

“You gonna leave me hanging or take it? My arm is starting to hurt.”

“Take—take it?!” Jamil stutters, surprised at Yuu’s suggestion, the blush becoming more evident. There was a long moment of silence before he spoke again.

“...Fine…”

He walks forward, carefully taking the rose, cradling it in his hands as if trying to protect it, holding it close to his chest.

Yuu smiles at the gesture. Rather than their usual teasing one, it’s a more fond one this time.

Jamil glances over at Yuu, noticing the change in their expression. He’s not sure how to react, not used to getting genuine kindness (aside from Kalim), especially from Yuu. A moment of silence passes before he looks away, fiddling with the rose, yet holding it gently. 

“...Do you like it? It took a long time to convince Riddle-san to give me one. I had to make him a strawberry tart and then he made me feed the flamingoes—in pink attire might I add…”

“Y-yeah, I do…” Jamil mutters, staring down at the rose. He’s still a little embarrassed, but at the same time, touched by Yuu’s gesture and the effort they went through to get it for him. For once, he felt…properly appreciated.

He carefully smells the rose, closing his eyes. He lets out a small sigh, feeling a sense of contentment. Though, he quickly shakes his head out of his daze, looking back up to Yuu. “But…why would you go through all that trouble just for me? I thought you were only here to tease and annoy me.” “...I- …it’s not supposed to be annoying. I just—I really like you. Not the ‘average guy’ facade you put up–you, for you. You’re a lot smarther than you let on and your magic abilities are pretty advanced... you're good looking..."

Jamil stands there, stunned. No one had ever complimented like this (when he wasn’t in overblot) before. To hear Yuu say all these things about him was…overwhelming. He couldn’t respond first, too caught up in his own thoughts. 

But, hearing Yuu say that last bit made him quickly snap out of it. Quickly turning his face away, fast enough to give him whiplash, with his face a bright red. 

Yuu cleared their throat, attempting to rid of the awkwardness they suddenly felt—and maybe the slight blush on their own cheeks too.

Jamil took a moment to compose himself, trying (and failing) to hide his blushing face with his hand. He glanced over at Yuu, still a little flustered, but slightly calmer, his voice softer, less guarded than previously. “...thank you.”

He takes a small breath, looking down at the rose once again. “No one’s ever…said those things to me before. It’s strange, but…it’s nice.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Yuu turned and stopped at the doorframe. “I’ll deal with Kalim for a couple of hours. Take a nap something. You deserve one.”

Jamil watches as Yuu walks away, the blush still tinting his cheeks. As they leave, he nods slightly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he continues to hold the rose close to his chest. “I think I will.”

[Bonus]

Yuu poked their head back into the room. “And a little fun fact—red roses symbolize love and passion,” They quickly muttered, dashing out the door.

Jamil’s eyes widened at Yuu’s words, blinking once—twice, making sure he heard them correctly. But they were already gone, running down the hallway. He stood there for a moment, processing all that just happened, and what Yuu had said, before a chuckle escaped him.

“Love and passion, huh?” He whispers to himself, a small smile gracing his lips, gazing upon the rose in his hands.

credit to @saradika-graphics for divider

[mroddmod]

everyone be quiet i'm manifesting

[hinamie]

can't believe im saying this but long time no megumi

[mars-ipan]

hiii mars 😇 i have something to say☝️. if you feel like it, id kind of like to hear more about the “tests of faith” you mentioned a while ago. idk if youve gone into depth about it already, mighta missed something, but i was rereading some of the priest au info and was reminded. im very fucking interested 👁️👁️. would love to hear more

also just fyi the last thing you wrote was fucking insane to me. i really like hearing about sinner hajime “giving in” (MASTURBATION MENTION 🫵) and komaeda being a subtle creep to him.. you already know i felt targeted. i had a very good time reading it. “he can handle hard things” yeah im sure he can dude

hca

ok so the tests of faith are basically just an excuse for komaeda to play kink games with hajime with some level of plausible deniability (aka an excuse for me to depict them). plays heavy into their dom/sub relationship, with a certain level of pred/prey and whatever they’re up to. i’m a little freak so maybe i’ll indulge my cnc kink a little (although it’s kinda dubcon from the start with this au). i’ve actually been thinking abt komaeda getting hajime drunk on communion wine but maybe we could turn that idea into one of their later-on tests of faith. could an inebriated hajime remain in the glory of god when faced with temptation, or would he stray from the light? idk i’m kinda spitballing, i don’t have too much in mind with regards to the tests of faith rn bc i’ve been focusing on trying to get hajime’s backstory properly fleshed out lately. dw though i ABSOLUTELY will be getting to the tests of faith eventually they are like. a routine thing for them once they get settled into their dynamic. komaeda explains them away as a straightforward way to check on hajime’s progress, and hajime buys it because the alternative is much much scarier.

as for the thingy i wrote. HEEHEHEE thank youuuu i don’t really consider myself a writer so it’s very affirming to see so many ppl respond to my writing well. extra thank you for picking up on the “you can handle hard things” euphemism— i was worried it was a bit too subtle actually. i was gonna have it be something like “you can take it when things get hard” but i couldn’t phrase it in a way i liked so i settled for “handle” instead lmao. and yesss komaeda being a subtle creep is a huge part of this au. bc it’s from hajime’s perspective his actions are going to be excused and depicted in a rose-tinted manner but if you actually look at what he’s doing he’s like objectively being creepy (who the hell comforts someone who’s fallen to the ground crying by pressing their face into their hip?) but hajime is both too whipped and too caught-up in his own self-loathing to really notice. he’ll accept anything and everything komaeda offers him, due in part to his desperation to be saved and in part to the thoughts he fears will drag him screaming into hell 👍, but i really like the idea of komaeda’s actions being genuinely inexcusable and fucked up when you take the time to look at it objectively. i <3 unreliable narration

[averlym]

4 on the angst list with Araleyn please I need them to suffer

4 : "but it's my fault, right?" (prompt list here)

[yoohyeon]

I should be asleep I’ll hate myself tomorrow, but while I’m preparing myself to go to sleep I remembered the dream I had last night and remembered that I thought in my dream that it would make a good story but now I don’t remember anything and I’m mad fbskndjd I haven’t write in so long, especially with characters that aren’t my long time ocs or fanfic it would have been good to think about something new but yeah 🥲

[goldkirk]

as I'm going back over my past history and items and journals and years, I come across all sorts of things, like the pencil I saved from that so-precious memory from second grade, and a pair of flip flops I've been missing for two years, and [checks notes] the modern-high-school-AU-kidnapped-by-a-serial-killer story I wrote in late high school jdfsjdfsjkjlksfd

[front-facing-pokemon]

[gummiix]

Does anyone else draw but get stuck on it for a while, either finishing it or getting it just right, and all the joy is sucked out of the drawing? You were so excited about the original idea, but an hour or so later you just feel empty. So now instead, you’re reaching to rekindle the initial joy so you can finish the drawing in justice to the original idea ?