#its like. i used to feel all the emotions i describe when i write but nowadays it feels so monotonous

[chrollogy]

why does no one talk about the sadness you feel when you lose interest in your best hobbies

[whispers-whump]

Some writing advice

that I like to use when I write. None of this is meant to be taken as hard and fast rules, they’re just things I like to do/keep in mind when I’m writing and I thought maybe other people would enjoy! <3

Never say what you mean

This is an offshoot of the very common “show don’t tell” advice, which I think can be confusing in application and unhelpful for scenes where telling is actually the right move. Instead, I keep the advice to never say exactly what I mean in stories.

By using a combination of showing and telling to hint at what you really mean, you force your reader to think and figure it out on their own, which makes for a more satisfying reading experience.

You might show a character getting angry and defensive in response to genuine care and concern. You could tell the audience that the character doesn’t see/talk to their parents often. But never outright give the real meaning that the character feels unlovable because of their strained relationship with their parents and as a result they don’t know how to react to being cared for.

Your readers are smart, you don’t need to spoon feed them.

Be sparse with the important things

You know how in a lot of movies there’s that tense scene where a character is hiding from something/someone and you can only just see this person/thing chasing them through a crack in the door? You get a very small glimpse of whatever’s after the character, sometimes only shadows being visible.

Do that in your writing. Obscure the important things in scenes by overdescribing the unimportant and underdescribing the important.

You might describe the smell of a space, the type of wood the floor is made of, the sound of work boots moving slowly across the room, a flashlight in the character’s hand. And there’s a dead body, laying in a pool of blood in the far corner of the room, red soaking into the rug. Then move on, what kind of rug is it? What is the color, patterns, and type of fabric of the rug?

Don’t linger on the details of the body, give your reader’s imagination some room to work while they digest the mundane you give them.

Dialogue is there to tell your story too

There’s a lot of advice out there about how to make dialogue more realistic, which is absolutely great: read aloud to yourself, put breaks where you feel yourself take a breath, reword if you’re stuttering over your written dialogue. But sometimes, in trying to make dialogue sound more realistic, a little bit of its function is lost.

Dialogue is more than just what your characters say, dialogue should serve a purpose. It’s a part of storytelling, and it can even be a bridging part of your narration.

If you have a scene with a lot of internal conflict that is very narration-heavy, breaking it up with some spoken dialogue can be a way to give some variety to those paragraphs without moving onto a new idea yet; people talk to themselves out loud all of the time.

Dialogue is also about what your characters don’t say. This can mean the character literally doesn’t say anything, they give half-truths, give an expected answer rather than the truth (“I’m fine”), omit important information, or outright lie.

Play with syntax and sentence structure

You’ve heard this advice before probably. Short, choppy sentences and a little onomatopoeia work great for fast-paced action scenes, and longer sentences with more description help slow your pacing back down.

That’s solid advice, but what else can you play with? Syntax and sentence structure are more than just the length of a sentence.

Think about things like: repetition of words or ideas, sentence fragments, stream of consciousness writing, breaking syntax conventions, and the like. Done well, breaking some of those rules we were taught about language can be a more compelling way to deliver an emotion, theme, or idea that words just can’t convey.

Would love to hear any other tips and tricks other people like to use, so feel free to share!!!

[esoteriamaya]

Lilith The Enchantress: Lilithian Energy In The Houses. How Each One Brings Their Own Tempting Flair.

So you're probably wondering, where am I going with this?

I wanted to focus on the temptation of lilith, and why she is so oozing and attractive as is she.

For this reading, I will focus on the houses. In my later post, it'll be in each sign.

So lets dig in! Shall we ;)

Lilith in the first house - Pleasing to the eye. Can have a very sultry appearance. There is a point where they must undergo a transformation of the self, and at some point they will have a divine, sensual aura. There sensual power comes through the way they look at you, and often times they can tell when they're being a little too flirtatious. But that is so they can get the person of their choice. Like a siren, they go in for their target and come out on top. They use their attractive persona as like a spell, think of the girl on who framed roger rabbit with the beautiful red hair and dress.

Lilith in the second house - They have an eye for detail. This is the time to take you to their home and show you the rose petals on the bed with the red and white candles everywhere. They know how to make a person want them, by adding to some flair into their home. While also using different aesthetics for they're look to match with the energy that is being shared between them and they're lover. Very picky with who they spend their time with you know. They aren't for everyone. These are the type to make you wait for it.

Lilith in the third house - These are the lovers that can write erotic letters and make you think about them all night. The way their minds can carry a story, and then when you meet them in person its even better than the books. They hold their composure well, but deep inside they are ready to be explored in more ways than one. My my my, they sure know how to right a love spell. One that lasts til the very end.

Lilith in the fourth house - It's actually so much harder to get them to show you who they truly are, thats what makes their mystique so awe dropping. The way these lilithian beings share themselves is with the power of their emotions, and eventually they will bring you right into their beautiful dungeon they call a home. Where you will find all them in just one bite. Very sensual with the right one. The one that makes them feel good, the one that knows them from the inside out. These lilith babes will let you have all of them if once you have succumb to their power.

Lilith in the fifth house - The sensual energy these lilithians carry is a one of a kind. Their magnetism never goes unnoticed, and they take you on a roller coaster of emotions with their performance. They are intimate with their audience and can put you under a spell with the way they make things look. Their hearts are in it with this one. Very gentle to the eye, but to the soul its much more deep and profound. Can't take them anywhere because their wild manes get stuck in the pursuit of love, where they will drenched you with all their sweet and tears to make more use of the bloody romances they've indulged in. They will have you thinking about them for many moons, due to them putting their all into what they do in the matters of the heart.

Lilith in the sixth house - To be loved by a lilith babe with this placement, is to have made yourself fully devoted to them. Worship is what they want, and it is what they need to pursue them. They don't let just anyone in, so you must be prepared to give yourself as an offering. Very pleasant, and freaky to ones they want most. Most never see this coming, which is why they always get away with it ;) The sensual energy they carry is very smooth, abundant and hard to describe. Mysterious auras that you want more of, so much so you will spend every hour, every day of the week wanting to get to know them.

Lilith in the seventh house - The die hard lovers who goes in for the kill. What they want wants them, and they oozee it in with their attraction spells. Their auras are unique, fresh and able to commit to their partners. It's just that they have so many options to choose from so they have no use to sticking around if you're not pulling in your weight. Im sorry, its hard having to be loved by so many! The sensual power in them is hot, tempting, and alluring. You just can't get enough of them. Can see right thru you and can captivate you with just a look!

Lilith in the eighth house - The way they just make things easy with how they seduce people is something I feel nobody else can relate to. The way they come in and take the throne with how they please their partners as well as themselves, It may be that nobody could come close. But thats the thing about being in a scorpion house, is that you touch people in a way that people are not able to control within themselves.. yet you've already mastered it. Very pleasing, pulsating, bold and full of passion. The sensual nature in them could have you feel things you've never felt before, and that will have you in a panic. because the way they are able to get you to come out of that shell and move deeper into them . Will have you begging for more & more & more. Bewitching auras indeed!

Lilith in the ninth house - The delicacy mixed with erotic power. The angels and the demon. The artist and the muse. They have the power to seduce anyone with just their mind alone. They can seduce you with their wit, their humor, their charisma and just their soul in general. But on a sensuality note, they are abundantly clear on what it is they want. And they know just how to get it. They waste no time in going after the energy it is they feel desires them. They are devoted to themselves and the power of a Godly force and nobody comes close. So to the ones who get to experience them, they feel a closeness to the divine that makes you tremble a bit. Because they show us a sense of carefreeness thats been missing, so the way they seduce you is in how they free themselves in a world that is committed to self restraint.

Lilith in the tenth house - Enchanting and mysterious in nature. The world wants to have them but cannot get enough of them. The secret to these characters is that they know what it is you're looking for, but you just won't get it from em. Not immediately that is. They'll make you wait for it. Hell, they'll even charge you for it if your a beggar. They know you want it, but they aren't easy. Like a coquette, they'll have you waiting for years, and their energy will be intact and while yours feels depleted. Lilith tenth housers just know how to work it with their sex appeal. It can transform you, to say the least. ;)

Lilith in the eleventh house - A special energy is unlocked in these lilithians because not only do they have the capacity to seduce the whole world they can be someone close to them too. Be careful with them, because they might bite! ;) Their sensual power comes from the ability to be close with them and they have a compassionate nature too! This makes them way more likeable and seductive. And even if you're close to them, there is still something else about them. Almost hard to ignore, so its no wonder friends and associates try to get it on with em.

Lilith in the twelfth house - If all the other placements are tempting to the eye, then these beings are tempting to the soul. They have a capacity to entice others with the way they carry themselves. They have a gift in pulling you in, and telling a story with just their body language alone. The moment you are seduced by them, is the very moment you come over and have a meeting with God. They are no angel, but they can just about make you feel things that where never present before.

Lilith in these houses can show the tempting, seductive energies of a person if they learn how to tap in. There is a short story about lilith being the tempting 'devil' we kind of all known of her to be. However, learning more complexities of her story. She is so much more. So this just a small version of what we know as lilith, there will be many more to come!

[mononijikayu]

ikaw lang— fushiguro megumi.

"Thanks. he muttered, his voice softer this time, almost shy. He still wasn’t used to letting people in, but for some reason, with you, it didn’t feel so bad. You smiled again, that same warm smile that made something inside him flutter. "Anytime." you replied, and Megumi knew you meant it. “Let me take care of you again, okay? When this happens.” “......You didn’t need to—” You shake your head, smile even wider.  “But I want to, okay?”

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: Fluff, Romance, First Love, First Meeting, Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Friendship, Confessions, Humor, Mutual Affection, Love, Pining, Hugging, Mention of Injury, Mention of Fighting, Mention of Blood, Depiction of Medical Aid, Fushiguro Megumi is In Love, Sorcerer! Megumi, Non-Sorcerer!Reader, Megumi and Reader Are A Bit Older;

WORDS: 6.5k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this song is really cute. i should rest after this because ive been writing all the other poll related works and my eyes hurts. i might open commissions some time so i can get new glasses 🤔 but anyway, i hope you like this as much as i do. i love you so much 🫶

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HE WONDERS WHAT HE DID TO BE THIS HAPPY. Fushiguro Megumi often finds himself lost in thought, trying to piece together how he ended up with someone like you as his lover. It’s a mystery to him, one that he turns over and over in his mind, especially in the quiet moments when he watches you from across the room.

The two of you couldn’t be more different. Megumi has always been reserved, the kind of person who prefers the solace of a quiet corner, away from the spotlight. He’s never been one to seek attention, content to blend into the background, observing rather than participating. 

And then there’s you, today. The person he loves the most.

You, who are the complete opposite of everything he thought he needed. You walk into a room and light it up effortlessly, drawing people to you like a lighthouse in a rough storm. Your presence is magnetic, radiant—wherever you go, you leave a trail of warmth and joy, like the sun casting light on everything in its path. If the sun existed in Megumi’s universe, it would undoubtedly be you, the brightest star in his sky, illuminating even the darkest parts of his world.

Sometimes, Fushiguro Megumi wonders how someone like you could ever be drawn to someone like him. He’s not flashy, not outgoing or overly expressive. But then, you’ve never needed him to be. From the moment you met, you saw something in him that no one else did. You didn’t mind his quiet nature; in fact, you seemed to appreciate it, to cherish the way he found comfort in the shadows while you thrived in the light.

Every time Megumi sees you, his heart races uncontrollably. It’s a feeling he can’t quite describe, this mixture of awe and disbelief that he’s lucky enough to have you by his side. You have a way of making him feel things he never thought possible—emotions that run deep and wild, far beyond the calm exterior he usually shows the world.

And whenever you flash him that smile, the one he loves so much, he feels his composure slip. His face turns scarlet, his heart stumbles over itself, and he panics slightly, wondering how he’ll ever survive the intensity of his feelings for you.

But what truly leaves Megumi breathless are your eyes.

He’s always been captivated by them, even before he realized he loved you. There’s something in the way your eyes shine that draws him in, that makes him feel like he’s seeing something otherworldly. When you look at him, it’s like the rest of the world fades away, leaving only the two of you in a moment of pure, unfiltered connection.

Your eyes are windows to your soul, reflecting every emotion, every thought, every ounce of love you hold for him. And Megumi, who is often so unsure of himself, finds a sense of peace and belonging in those eyes. They are his sanctuary, his guiding light, the proof that he’s not alone in this world.

Sometimes, when you catch him staring, you’ll tilt your head and ask him what he’s thinking. And every time, Megumi struggles to find the right words, because how can he possibly explain the way you make him feel? How can he put into words the overwhelming mixture of gratitude, love, and fear that courses through him whenever he’s with you? All he knows is that, in those moments, he’s reminded of just how extraordinary you are, and how incredibly lucky he is to have you.

You are the sun in his universe, the brightest star in his sky, and with every passing day, Megumi falls deeper in love with you. And even though he’s not always able to express it, he hopes that when you look into his eyes, you can see just how much you mean to him—how much he adores every part of you, and how grateful he is to share his life with someone as wonderful as you.

Each time you raise your head and let Megumi gaze into your eyes, he’s struck by how they seem to shimmer with an otherworldly light. It’s not just the way they sparkle, but the depth and complexity they hold within them, as if your eyes contain entire galaxies, full of stars, planets, and endless mysteries.

To Megumi, your eyes are like a universe unto themselves—vast, beautiful, and impossible to fully comprehend. He can never quite find the words to describe the wonder they bring him, because, in truth, they’re unlike anything he’s ever known. They’re out of this world, something magical and extraordinary that he’s lucky enough to witness every day.

And every day, Megumi is reminded of just how fortunate he is to have you by his side. There are moments when he’s caught off guard by the simple yet profound realization that someone as remarkable as you chose him.

He’ll be lost in thought, or caught up in the routine of daily life, and then you’ll look at him, your eyes meeting his, and all those thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. In those moments, nothing else matters—just the connection between you, the unspoken bond that ties your hearts together.

Megumi finds that the most beautiful part of his day is when you look back at him. Your eyes, shining with a brilliance that words can’t quite capture, speak volumes in a language only the two of you understand. They tell him of the abundant love you hold for him, a love that fills his heart with warmth and light.

He’s always been shy, a little reserved, and sometimes he struggles to put his feelings into words. But when you look at him with those sparkling eyes, he wishes he could find the courage to tell you just how much it feels like heaven on Earth when you let him see the hearts hidden behind the bright beam of your gaze.

Megumi knows that you’re patient with him, that you understand his quiet nature, but sometimes he worries that he doesn’t show you enough how deeply he loves you. He wishes he could be more expressive, that he could find the words to tell you everything he feels.

But when words fail him, he hopes that you can see it in the way he looks at you—in the way his breath catches, in the way his heart races, in the way he’s completely and utterly captivated by you.

To Megumi, your eyes are not just beautiful—they are a reflection of the love you have for him, a love that he treasures more than anything in the world. Every glance you share, every moment your eyes meet his, is a reminder of how lucky he is to have found someone like you. And even though he may never fully grasp the magic you bring into his life, he knows that he will spend every day trying to show you just how much you mean to him.

To Megumi, it feels like stars might actually be falling from the sky, captured in the light of your gaze. Every moment he gets to see those eyes, he feels like he's witnessing something otherworldly, something that makes all the differences between you melt away, leaving only the overwhelming love he has for you.

Even though Megumi isn’t always good with words, he sometimes wishes that you could simply look into his eyes and just know that he loves you more than anything in the world. He hopes that you no longer feel the need to ask over and over, like you used to, because the truth is, you’re the only one he has ever truly loved—and the only one he ever will.

But sometimes, a nagging doubt creeps into his mind. He worries that his quietness might not be enough to convince you of how much you mean to him. He fears that he’s not doing enough to show you just how deeply he cares, because he struggles to express his feelings out loud. Yet, despite those fears, Megumi is determined to try harder, to find ways to show you his love so that you never have to doubt it.

If there were a way, Megumi wishes you could look into his heart and believe without a shadow of a doubt that you are the only one his heart has ever loved. And as he gazes at you now, he silently hopes that you can feel the depth of his affection in the way he looks at you, even if the words aren’t always there.

Fushiguro Megumi vividly remembers the first time he saw you for the first time. That was that day, during middle school. It was an ordinary day, and he wasn’t expecting anything to change. And for that change to be for the best.

He was known for being a bit of a loner, someone who kept to himself and occasionally got into trouble for his rebellious streak. He wasn’t exactly a model student, and most people gave him a wide berth, not wanting to get involved with someone who had a reputation for being a delinquent.

But then there was you, when you were younger.

He had just been reprimanded by one of the homeroom teachers for getting into another fight—something that had become more common as he struggled to navigate the challenges of his teenage years.

Or rather, just the annoyance he had for people he considered to be cruel, horrible people. But he supposed he was also angry, frustrated with the world, and on the verge of lashing out again when you approached him.

You were new, just transferred to the school, and Megumi was sure that you, like everyone else, would steer clear of him. But instead, you walked right up to him, your eyes full of concern rather than fear or judgment. You were like the sun blocking his eyes when he met you. You changed his whole world that day, he likes to think. 

"Hey! Are you okay?" you had said softly, your voice calm and soothing. "Oh no, you got some dirt on your shirt—is that a cut on your side?"

Fushiguro Megumi had been taken aback for a long time. The last time must have been when Gojo said he’s taking him and Megumi in. There were very few things that had Megumi fazed, stuck in his tracks, and at a loss for words.

Perhaps the act of kindness being shown to him was one of those points. But he doesn’t think you’ve blamed him. He wasn’t used to anyone talking to him like that—without the underlying wariness or caution. He didn’t know how to respond, so he just shrugged, trying to brush you off. 

“I’m fine.” he muttered, his tone gruff, hoping you would just drop it and leave him alone. "Don't worry about me. Move on."

But you didn’t leave. Instead, you stood your ground, your eyes filled with a concern that he hadn’t seen in a long time. It was as if you could see right through his tough exterior, straight to the part of him that was hurting, and you weren’t about to let it go unnoticed. You shook your head, your hands reaching out to gently tug at his sleeves, drawing his attention back to you.

When he finally looked at you, he was surprised to find that you seemed more distressed about his well-being than he was. There was a softness in your gaze, mixed with a quiet determination that caught him off guard.

"It doesn’t look like it! See? It hasn’t stopped bleeding. you replied gently, your voice free of any reproach, but filled with genuine worry. 

Megumi followed your gaze to the cut on his arm, a wound he hadn’t given much thought to in the heat of the moment. But seeing the concern etched on your face made him pause.

You hesitated for a moment, as if unsure of how to proceed, before speaking again. "But if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay. I just… I just wanted to make sure you’re alright." 

“Don’t worry about me—”

Your voice wavered slightly, betraying the depth of your concern, and it made something inside Megumi’s chest tighten. "At least maybe let me help you clean that nasty cut."

Megumi blinked, taken aback by your persistence. He was used to people either ignoring him or chastising him for getting into trouble, but you were different. You weren’t trying to fix him or tell him what to do—you were simply offering to help, to be there for him in a way that no one else had been. It was a kindness he wasn’t used to, and he didn’t quite know how to respond.

For a moment, he considered brushing you off, telling you he didn’t need any help, that he could handle it on his own. But something in your eyes stopped him. There was a sincerity there, a genuine desire to take care of him, and it made him realize how rare it was for someone to care like that.

"Fine." he finally grumbled, though his voice had lost its earlier edge. He couldn’t quite bring himself to meet your gaze, instead focusing on the ground as he added, "But it’s really not that bad."

You didn’t seem convinced, but you didn’t push him further. Instead, you smiled—a small, relieved smile that made his chest feel warm in a way he wasn’t used to. "Let’s just get it cleaned up, okay?" you said softly, leading him to a nearby bench.

As you carefully tended to his wound, Megumi found himself stealing glances at you, wondering why you cared so much. You were new to the school, new to his world, and yet here you were, going out of your way to make sure he was alright. It was strange, but also… comforting.

"Why do you care?" he asked quietly, surprising even himself with the question. It wasn’t something he’d meant to say out loud, but now that the words were out there, he couldn’t take them back.

You paused, looking up at him with those kind, worried eyes. "Because you deserve it." you replied simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Everyone deserves to be cared for, you know?"

Your words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, Megumi didn’t know what to say. He’d never thought of himself as someone who deserved kindness, especially not from someone like you. But hearing you say it so matter-of-factly made him wonder if maybe, just maybe, you were right.

You took Megumi to the nurse’s office, your concern evident in every step you took. He had tried to brush off the cut on his arm as no big deal, but you weren’t having any of it. As you entered the office, you headed straight for the supply cabinet, rummaging through it to find the emergency kit.

Megumi watched you with a mixture of apprehension and admiration. His face was tense, a mixture of discomfort and embarrassment clearly visible. He had never been one to draw attention to himself, especially not for something he considered minor. Yet here you were, focused and determined to make sure he was taken care of.

You pulled out the first aid kit and set it on the counter, your hands moving quickly and efficiently. “Alright, let’s get this cleaned up,” you said, your voice steady and reassuring.

Megumi shifted uncomfortably, clearly aware of the fuss you were making. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble. It’s just a scratch,” he muttered, trying to downplay the situation.

You gave him a stern look as you began to clean the cut. “It’s not just a scratch if it’s bleeding. Besides, it’s my job to make sure you’re okay. You’ve been taking care of everyone else, so let me take care of you for once.”

He sighed, though he couldn’t help but feel a little comforted by your persistence. As you carefully applied the antiseptic and bandaged his arm, Megumi stole glances at you, noticing the focused expression on your face. Despite his initial resistance, he was grateful for your concern.

“You really don’t have to do this,” he said again, though his voice lacked conviction this time.

You glanced up at him with a small, reassuring smile. “I know, but I want to. You’ve always been there for me, and it’s only fair that I return the favor. Besides, you look like you’re in no condition to argue right now.”

Megumi managed a small, appreciative smile despite his discomfort. “Thanks. I guess I’m just not used to this… kind of attention.”

You finished wrapping the bandage and patted his shoulder gently. “Well, get used to it. Because I’m not going to let you get away with not taking care of yourself. And don’t think I won’t be checking on you if you ever get hurt again.”

He looked at you, the tension in his face easing as he met your gaze. “I’ll try not to get hurt then. Or at least try to let you know before it gets this bad.”

You laughed softly, your eyes crinkling with warmth. “Good. And remember, if you ever need anything—whether it’s help with a cut or just someone to talk to—I’m always here for you.”

Megumi’s heart swelled with a mix of gratitude and affection. Even though he had tried to downplay the situation, your unwavering concern made him feel valued in a way he hadn’t felt before. He knew that no matter what happened, he could always count on you to be by his side.

As you finished bandaging his cut, Megumi felt a strange sense of calm settle over him. For the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel so alone. Maybe it was because of the way you looked at him, or the way you didn’t push him to talk about things he wasn’t ready to share. Or maybe it was just because you were there, offering your help without expecting anything in return.

"Thanks....I guess." he muttered, his voice softer this time, almost shy. He still wasn’t used to letting people in, but for some reason, with you, it didn’t feel so bad.

You smiled again, that same warm smile that made something inside him flutter. "Anytime." you replied, and Megumi knew you meant it. “Let me take care of you again, okay? When this happens.”

“......You didn’t need to—”

You shake your head, smile even wider.  “But I want to, okay?”

He didn’t know how to reply. He rubs the back of his neck. “You’re a weird one.”

“EH!? But I’m not!”

As the two of you sat there, the world seemed to quiet down around him, leaving only the gentle presence of the person who had somehow managed to slip past his defenses and show him a kindness he hadn’t realized he was missing.

Megumi didn’t know what to say. He was used to people either avoiding him or giving him grief for his behavior, but you were different. You weren’t trying to lecture him or push him away. You were just… there, offering your kindness without expecting anything in return.

From that day on, you always treated him with the same patience and understanding, even when he continued to get into trouble. You never judged him, never scolded him. Instead, you listened, offering support when he needed it and giving him space when he didn’t. You seemed to see past the rough exterior, recognizing that there was more to him than just the delinquent reputation he had built.

At first, Megumi didn’t understand why you were so kind to him. He didn’t think he deserved it, and part of him expected you to give up on him eventually. But you never did. No matter how many times he got into trouble, you were always there, offering him a smile or a word of encouragement.

Slowly, he began to soften around you. He started to look forward to the moments when you would seek him out, your presence becoming a source of comfort in his otherwise turbulent life. You became his anchor, the person who made him believe that maybe he wasn’t as bad as he thought.

It wasn’t long before Megumi realized that his feelings for you had grown into something deeper. At first, he had tried to convince himself that what he felt was simply gratitude, an appreciation for the way you treated him with such genuine care and respect. But as time passed, he found himself thinking about you more and more, his thoughts lingering on the little moments you shared.

Like that time in the library, when you had insisted on helping him with his homework. Megumi had been struggling with a particularly difficult problem, his frustration mounting with each failed attempt to solve it. You had noticed his struggle and quietly slid your chair closer to his, gently guiding him through the problem with a patience that both surprised and comforted him.

“There, see? You’re getting it!” you had said, a bright smile lighting up your face as you watched him work through the problem.

Megumi had looked at you then, really looked at you, and something inside him had shifted. It was the way you had been so kind, so encouraging, without a hint of judgment or condescension. The way you had treated him like he mattered, like you genuinely wanted to see him succeed. It was a feeling that was foreign to him, yet it warmed him from the inside out.

Another moment had come when the two of you were walking home from school. It had started to rain unexpectedly, and Megumi had cursed himself for not bringing an umbrella. But before he could worry too much, you had pulled out your own and held it over both of you, smiling up at him as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Come on, let’s share. Can’t have you getting soaked.” you had said, your voice cheerful despite the downpour.

As the two of you walked side by side, your shoulders brushing occasionally, Megumi had felt his heart do a strange little flip. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, noticing the way the raindrops clung to your hair, how your smile remained unwavering despite the weather.

In that moment, something had clicked for him. It wasn’t just your kindness that drew him to you—it was the way you made him feel safe, understood, and… cared for.

The realization had hit him one afternoon when you both were at the park. You had been talking animatedly about something, your hands gesturing as you spoke, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

Fushiguro Megumi had been content to just listen, watching the way your expressions changed with every word. And then, without warning, you had turned to him, catching him completely off guard with a look of such warmth and affection that it nearly knocked the breath out of him.

“What?” you had asked, laughing lightly when you noticed the way he was staring.

Megumi had opened his mouth to respond, but no words had come out. Instead, he had felt a strange mix of emotions bubbling up inside him—nervousness, excitement, something that felt suspiciously like hope. It was then that he realized: this wasn’t just friendship or simple admiration. It was something deeper, something more.

He liked you. A lot.

The thought had sent a rush of warmth through his chest, leaving him both exhilarated and terrified. Megumi wasn’t used to these kinds of feelings, and he wasn’t sure what to do with them. But as he looked at you, standing there with that bright smile on your face, he knew one thing for certain—he wanted to be around you, to make you smile like that as often as he could.

“Nothing.” he had finally managed to say, a small, shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I was just… thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” you had asked, tilting your head curiously.

Megumi had hesitated for a moment, but then he had decided to be honest, even if he couldn’t say everything that was on his mind. “About how… I like spending time with you.”

Your smile had grown even brighter at his words, and you had reached out to lightly punch his arm in that playful way you always did. “Well, I like spending time with you too, Megumi.”

And just like that, Megumi had known that he was done for. He liked you—really liked you. And even though the thought scared him, it also filled him with a strange sense of happiness, one that he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before. From that moment on, Megumi couldn’t deny it anymore. He liked you, and he wanted to see where these feelings would take him.

Looking back, Megumi often finds himself reflecting on how profoundly different his life might have been if you hadn’t approached him that day. It was a pivotal moment, one that he now sees as the turning point in his journey.

Before you, he had felt like a perpetual outsider—misunderstood, labeled as a troublemaker, and largely ignored by those around him. He had been resigned to his role, to the way people saw him, without much hope for change or growth.

But then you came into his life, a beacon of kindness and patience in a world that had been mostly indifferent. You saw something in him that no one else had—a potential for change, a person worth caring for. Your approach had been gentle but resolute, offering him a friendship and understanding that he hadn’t known he needed.

You didn’t judge him for his mistakes or his quiet demeanor; instead, you reached out to him with a genuine concern for his well-being. It was this unassuming kindness that started to crack open the hardened shell he had built around himself.

Now, years later, Megumi often wonders if he would have ever found the strength to change if it hadn’t been for you. He thinks about the way you had treated him back then, how your unwavering support had slowly begun to reshape his view of himself.

It was as if you had quietly whispered to him that he was worth something, that he had the potential to be better, and that there was more to him than just the surface-level troubles. And in doing so, you had planted a seed of hope and self-worth that gradually grew into something stronger and more resilient.

As the two of you sit together now, the evening sun casting a warm, golden glow through the window, Megumi can’t help but be reminded of how far he’s come. The comfort and familiarity of your presence have become a cherished part of his life.

He often steals glances at you, unable to fully comprehend just how lucky he is to have someone like you by his side. The way you’re sitting there, so effortlessly at ease, makes his heart swell with a deep affection that words can hardly capture.

You’ve caught him staring more than once, and each time, you respond with that soft, knowing smile that makes his heart skip a beat. It’s a smile that reassures him, that reminds him of the love that started on that day in junior high, when you saw him not as a problem or a troublemaker, but as someone worthy of care and respect. That smile, simple yet profound, continues to be a source of comfort and joy for him, a daily reminder of how much you mean to him.

In those moments, as he looks at you and sees the warmth in your eyes and the gentle curve of your lips, Megumi is filled with a deep sense of gratitude. He thinks about how his life might have been different without your influence, and he realizes just how much you’ve changed him. The love he feels for you is rooted in that initial connection, and it has only grown deeper and stronger with time.

Megumi knows now that the love he has for you began with that first act of kindness you showed him, and it has only been enriched by the years you’ve spent together. As he sits there beside you, basking in the glow of the setting sun and the warmth of your presence, he can’t help but feel that he has found something truly extraordinary—something that started with a simple gesture of care and has blossomed into a love that he never thought possible.

You lean in slightly, noticing how quiet he’s been. "Megumi. Oiiiiiii, Megu–Megu~ Gumiiiiii!”

He sighed, looking at you. You have energy again, after resting. “What is it?”

“You truly okay?" you ask, your voice gentle and inviting.

He hesitates, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink. "It’s nothing. Don’t worry about me.” he mumbles, looking down at his hands, fidgeting slightly. "Just thinking about the past. Nostalgia."

You tilt your head, your eyes sparkling with curiosity and affection. You smiled. "You’re always so cute, Megumi.” You sighed, as you reached out gently to touch his hand. ”You’ve been staring at me all evening. If you have something to say, you can tell me, okay?”

Megumi swallows, gathering his courage. "It’s just… your eyes…" he finally says, his voice barely above a whisper. "They’re… really beautiful. And just…..you. I think how lucky I am to be with you.”

You blink in surprise, not expecting such a heartfelt compliment from him. "Oh, my beloved Megumi." you murmur, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Thank you."

Megumi slowly looks up at you then, his own eyes filled with a tender sincerity that makes your heart flutter. He took a breath before letting his eyes wander at the sight of you, his beloved marvel. His wonder in life. He gives you a faint smile. 

"When you look at me like that… it feels like I’m seeing stars." he continues, his voice growing softer, more vulnerable. "Like… every time I see your eyes, it’s the most beautiful part of my day. And… I don’t know how to say this right, but… it’s like there’s love shining behind them, so much that it feels like heaven."

Your heart swells with emotion, and you squeeze his hand gently. You lifted his hand to your lips and looked at him tenderly as you pressed your lips against the top of his hand. He doesn’t know when his heart will calm down. But when it’s you, he doubts if it will ever happen. 

"Megumi, that’s one of the sweetest things you’ve ever said to me." you reply, your voice filled with warmth. "And just so you know, when I look at you, I feel the same way. You make every day feel like the brightest one I’ve ever had. Because when I look at you, I ask, ‘how did I deserve this boy?’ Because, you’re too good to me.”

He smiles shyly, his blush deepening as he takes in your words. "I’m glad….that you feel like I do too." he murmurs, his fingers intertwined with yours.

"I always will." You reassured him, grinning at him lovingly.

"I… I’m not good with words, but I want you to know how much you mean to me. Every time you look at me, it’s like… it’s like I’m the luckiest person in the world."

You lean in closer, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "You don’t have to say much, Megumi. I can see it in your eyes too." you whisper, your breath warm against his skin. “That’s more than enough for me, know that. Okay?”

Megumi’s heart swells, and for a moment, he forgets about his usual shyness. "I love you." he says softly, the words slipping out before he can stop them. “More than you’ll ever know.”

Your smile widens, your eyes shining even brighter. "I love you too, Megumi." you reply, your voice filled with the same sincerity and warmth that he sees in your gaze every day.

And in that moment, with your hands intertwined and your eyes locked, Fushiguro Megumi knows that there’s nothing more beautiful than the love you both share. And he truly believes that. He thinks that you’re the love of his life. And he has no intention of letting you go.

Megumi's heart races as the words hang in the air between you. He's never been the best at expressing his feelings, but something about being with you makes it easier—like the words come naturally when you're around. You pull back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes again, your own filled with the same warmth and love that makes his heart flutter. 

"You know, Megumi." you start, your voice soft and affectionate, "I always feel like I’m the luckiest person too. Because even when you're quiet or shy, I can feel everything you don’t say in the way you look at me. It’s like you’re telling me a million things with just a glance."

He bites his lip, trying to find the right words to respond. "It’s hard for me to… say things out loud sometimes. And it’s hard to be honest at times." he admits, his gaze lowering for a moment before meeting yours again. "But when I’m with you, it feels different. Because when I’m with you, I’m just….me.”

You smile at him, a soft, understanding smile that makes him feel even more at ease. "You don’t have to say everything, Megumi." you reassure him. "I can see it in your actions, in the way you care for me, and in those beautiful eyes of yours. You’re always telling me how you feel, even when you think you’re not. I love that about you, don’t worry.”

Megumi blushes, the compliment making him feel a mix of embarrassment and joy. "You… you think my eyes are beautiful?" he asks, his voice small, almost disbelieving.

"Of course I do." you reply, leaning in to rest your forehead against his. "They’re one of my favorite things about you. They’re so expressive, even when you’re being quiet. I can always tell what you’re feeling just by looking into them. Your eyelashes too. They’re always pretty!”

His breath hitches at the closeness, your words making his heart swell with emotion. "I… I’m glad you think that." he murmurs, his eyes locked onto yours. "Because… When I look at you, I see everything I could ever want.”

Your heart skips a beat at his confession, and you close the small distance between you, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. It’s soft, sweet, and full of the love that you both share, a love that needs no words to be understood.

When you pull back, you see that Megumi’s face is a deep shade of red, but there’s a small, content smile on his lips that makes your heart soar. "You really know how to say the perfect thing, don’t you?" you tease lightly, brushing a stray strand of hair away from his face.

He chuckles softly, his shyness momentarily forgotten as he looks at you with nothing but affection. "Only because it’s you." he replies, his voice steady and full of sincerity. "You make it easy."

You both sit there for a moment, just enjoying the comfort of each other’s presence. Megumi’s hand is still entwined with yours, and he gives it a gentle squeeze, as if to remind himself that this is real—that you’re real, and that you’re his.

"I never thought I’d be this happy, you know?" he admits quietly, almost as if he’s afraid that saying it out loud might break the spell. "But with you… it’s like every day is a dream."

You smile, your heart swelling with love for the boy who, despite his quiet demeanor, has given you more happiness than you ever imagined. "Then let’s keep dreaming together, Megumi." you whisper, leaning in for another kiss. "Because I never want this to end."

The warmth of the setting sun bathed the room in a golden hue, casting a gentle glow that seemed to amplify the intimacy of the moment. Megumi and you were nestled comfortably together, sharing a quiet sense of peace that had settled between you. This was paradise, Megumi thinks. This was heaven on earth. You and you alone, in his arms — he could not ask for anything more.

Megumi glanced at you again, his eyes reflecting the soft light. “What good did I do to be with you?”

You tilted your head, smiling at him with a mixture of curiosity and affection. “Why do you say that? What makes you feel that way? You did everything good. You do deserve me."

He hesitated, his gaze falling to the floor as he tried to find the right words. “It’s just… you’ve always been there for me, even when I didn’t really know what I needed. I was so closed off and messed up back then. But you saw something in me, something I didn’t even see in myself.”

You reached out, gently placing your hand on his cheek to lift his gaze to meet yours. “I saw a person who needed kindness and understanding, and I’m really glad I could be there for you. But you did the hard part, Megumi. You changed and grew, and that’s all you.”

He shook his head slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I couldn’t have done it without you. And now, every day with you feels like a gift. I keep thinking about how different things could have been if you hadn’t come into my life. It’s overwhelming sometimes.”

You chuckled softly, your fingers brushing his hair back from his forehead. “Well, I’m glad I did. And I’m glad you’re here with me now. It’s like we were meant to find each other, don’t you think?”

Megumi nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, it does feel like that. I keep thinking about how we met and how everything just seemed to fall into place after that. It’s like you were the missing piece I didn’t know I needed.”

Your eyes sparkled with affection as you leaned closer. “And you were the person who showed me what it means to be patient and understanding. We’ve both learned so much from each other.”

He smiled, a rare, genuine smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. “You’ve made me a better person. I feel like I’ve become more open, more willing to trust and care. It’s all because of you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you wrapped your arms around him in a gentle hug. “I’m just glad I could be a part of your journey. And I’m excited for everything that’s still to come for us.”

Megumi returned the hug, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go. “Me too. I want to make sure I’m always there for you, supporting you just like you’ve supported me. I don’t want you to ever doubt how much you mean to me.”

You pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, a soft smile playing on your lips. “You don’t have to worry about that. I know exactly how much I mean to you. And I’ll always be here for you, just like you’ve always been there for me.”

As the two of you sat together, the warmth of the setting sun casting a gentle glow over the room, Megumi felt an overwhelming sense of contentment. He knew that with you by his side, every day would be brighter, every challenge more bearable.

And as he looked into your eyes, he realized that the love he felt was a constant, reassuring presence—one that made everything feel right in the world.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Can you write some scar fluff/comfort? As in kissing slashers scars (And trying to not get stabbed /hj) or vise versa? Maybe with Jason, Micheal, Brahms, and Thomas? (Feel free to change them up)

Kissing their scars (Jason, Brahms, Thomas and Michael)

and the days writing begins! hoping to get a lot done, even if a lot of it wont be posted today to avoid spam- wooo!! notes: reader is gn, you kiss their scars, michaels part is admittedly short mostly due to the admin still not totally used to writing for him yet- havent quite felt ive got his personality down cws: healed injuries, nothing intense but i like to be safe than sorry

JASON

he has more than his fair share of scars, and honestly? hes not all that worried about them, hes not ashamed of them- he takes them as a sign that hes been doing well with protecting his space as well as you

still open to you kissing them, theres lots to choose from.... hes got them on his hands, his back, shoulders, youre sure if you look there would be a scar somewhere

the moment is so tender that he may shutter a little with some emotion, being slightly more emotive than he normally is

take his hand and press his scarred knuckles to your mouth for a gentle kiss and hes going to be melting in your grasp

its not much different than the kisses you press onto his mask but the intention feels different- if that makes sense.. hes bad at describing things...

BRAHMS

does not like his scars at all- he thinks they look unsightly and they feel uncomfortable against his skin thats not scarred over

covers most of them with his mask and clothing, but you can see some splotches here and there

he... doesnt quite know how to feel about it when you kiss them, but hes not going to deny himself the extra attention and affection that youve giving him

with time he may grow to accept them; whether or not he stops covering them up is a totally different thing, though...

one thing is still the same, the second you give him some extra loving hes going to expect that to be the new normal- surely you wont mind cuddling into him while trailing kisses up and down his body where his scars reside!

MICHAEL

similar to jason, he doesnt mind his scars all that much... in fact he doesnt care about them at all, and you probably wouldnt have known he had them if you didnt see him without his usual coveralls on

shows no visible reaction to you lightly pressing kisses to the scars he lets you get close enough- usually reserved to the ones on his hands hes gotten from minor burns or nicks

does not seek affection, but its a good sign that hes not pulling away or otherwise getting you to stop... because if he truly wasnt interested in it he wouldnt indulge you

doesnt quite understand the sentiment behind kissing his (now healed) wounds but you do you

THOMAS

you make him feel better about his looks, youre always uplifting him so you kissing along his face- especially concentrating it around where his nose once was- makes him feel.. nice

it does come as a little surprise at first, though, not that he thinks youre revolted or not fully willing to show your devotion and love for him... its more so the act never crossed his mind until you did it

youre cupping his head in your hands, fingers lightly tangled in his hair... perhaps even massaging his scalp as you lean in for another kiss

truly he is in heaven as you give him all of your love, youve never seen someone look at you with so much love in their eyes... much less look at you like that

it does make him more willing to take his masks off around you, now fully reassured that you dont mind his appearance at all and that you like the face he was given

[jennifer-jeong]

Fluff | Genshin x GN!Reader What Made Them Fall For You?

Xiao, Wanderer/Scaramouche, Diluc

SUMMARY Headcanons on what makes the genshin pookies fall for you <3

CONTENT Fluff, gender neutral reader, men falling for reader, reader is not traveler but is friends with them, mentions of character's trauma, CHARACTERS ARE 18+

AUTHOUR NOTES I hope to eventually write about all the men >:) it will probably take a while to get to it but I’ll try to keep each one short to encourage myself to finish them all hehe.

XIAO

I think Xiao would start to fall for you because you see through his tough, mean guy act. You can tell that even though his words are harsh and he’s telling you to leave him alone, he’s just protecting you. You might not see it at first, but as you understand his condition, his karmic debt, you understand him. Your realization makes you feel warm knowing that Xiao is really just an innocent soul who wanted to keep you safe. He wants so badly to never hurt anyone ever again and “repent” in solitude even though he has nothing to really repent for; he was forced to kill by his previous master and his karmic debt only comes from killing the remnants of old gods and absorbing their debt.

You start to hang around him more as a result and, much to Xiao’s dismay, he doesn’t hate it. In fact, he actually enjoys how you reignite the warmth in him, the warmth he hasn’t felt in so long since his fellow Yaksha have passed. But did he want to let you in? Shouldn’t he push you away? He’s been alone for so long, why change that now? He felt like he didn’t deserve to enjoy company again, that he didn’t deserve you and your kindness. But maybe just this time… just once, would he allow it.

WANDERER

I think Wanderer would start to fall for you because you make him feel human emotions like he’s never felt before. He’s always searched for a “heart” in the form of a gnosis, thinking it would make him human and make him feel loved and wanted. But even when he had it, it didn’t feel right. Even now, with his anemo vision, he feels more, but still not what he wants. But with you, it feels perfect. Others would probably describe what he feels as something like “butterflies in my stomach” but since he probably doesn’t really experience physical things like that, being a magical puppet and all, he thinks about how you make his vision glow. When he feels a surge of emotions, it feels like he’s using his vision. It feels powerful, happy, strong, and warm, like how a light breeze feels on a sunny afternoon.

You know about his past, what he did, and how the world wronged him. He’s been so traumatized and can barely comprehend his emotions. So when you reach out to him after he regains his memory and a new anemo vision, you try to help him through his emotions in the gentle way that you do. You’re so soft with him and it makes his vision heart ache. He believes he doesn’t deserve you but you try your best to show him otherwise. As you two get closer, you never really notice, but the wind always picks up just a little bit when he sees you.

DILUC

I think Diluc would start to fall for you because you don’t just see him as “the young and rich son of the Ragnvindr family estate.” You see him for him: Diluc. You see a beautiful soul with a broken heart that has put up walls that he intends to never break down again. Others might think that Diluc is just cold, but you and the others close to him know that no matter how cold he may seem, the pure fire that burns inside him always spreads its warmth to those around him. He’s believed for a while now that barely anyone can see what he’s hiding underneath, that people want him for his money, his property, his material things. But you prove him wrong time and time again. You sweetly say hi to him every time you see him not because you want to put on a facade to get on his good side. You don’t help him break up a fight at the tavern and clean up after because you want a monetary reward. You don’t bake him an adorable strawberry cake for his birthday because you want something back. No, you do it because you care, because you have so much love to give, and Diluc feels so lucky to be a part of your life.

He feels his feelings grow for you as time goes on. He feels you getting closer and he barely hesitates to let you in. You didn’t break down his walls, you politely made a door for yourself to enter and it makes you both laugh to think about it that way. He stays reserved around most others but always holds the door open for you, physically and metaphorically.

|| MASTERLIST ♡ || Thank you for reading! ||

[sorcerersseestars]

LIMERENCE (part I)

Gojo Satoru x gn!reader

"I can't stop loving you, no matter how hard I try."

summary: Your long-time friend stirs feelings inside you that you never realized existed. Of course they bubble up in your chest while he’s in the midst of ignoring you and discovering his own possible romance. Your mutual friend thinks she has it all figured out—or does she?

pairing: gojo satoru x gn! reader

fandom: jujutsu kaisen

genre: hanahaki sickness au, angst, hurt/comfort, drama, slow burn!

warnings: mentions of feeling sick, being stonewalled kinda, usage of the word (Y/N) bc Gojo is too fed up for nicknames (in reality idk what else to use 😶), Gojo being an ass (common theme in my fics oops)

word count: 3.6k

a/n: This is the first part to my hanahaki au! I’ve had this in my drafts for the longest time, but never committed to writing it all out until now. This first bit is kinda slow and maybe confusing BUT hopefully I’ll be able to clear it up next chapter. Not proof read very thoroughly; will probably regret later 🫥

part ii part iii

“DON’T YOU THINK you could be a bit nicer to me?” You try, clasping your hands together as you look up at him with an odd smile—a cross between apologetic and playful. You’re joking, or at least half joking. It’s too difficult to be serious with Gojo; his habit of masking emotion with jest must be rubbing off on you.

Only one corner of his mouth raises. “Good one, (Y/N)-chan. As if I didn’t use to pay your bills.”

He doesn’t look at you when he speaks, and he walks away from you without a single glance. You frown and lightly jog a few steps to catch up to him.

“Ah, and I’m forever thankful for that!” You say, cringing at how overly peppy your tone is. “But that’s not exactly what I meant.”

“Hmm,” Is all he says. His hands are in his pockets, but he doesn’t carry himself with as much ease as usual—his posture is closed off, angular and tense.

“What I meant was–” You prompt your own answer, as he doesn’t make any move to. “We haven’t seen each other in a while. I know you’ve been really busy lately, so I don’t blame you, but I think we should go out and do something. Could help relieve some work stress too, don’t you think so?”

“Maybe,” He says, the word short yet effective in its delivery. The word was sharp in his mouth, clear annoyance shaping his tongue enough for the word to have a bite to it.

You wince. He never used to be like this. Gojo has been in a state of perpetual mirth—and one could argue levity—for the entirety of your friendship, never taking anything seriously and always looking for opportunities to poke fun at you to half-jokingly glorify himself. His expression has always been infectiously positive—never molded into anything hard or serious.

But, lately, everything you thought you knew about Gojo Satoru has faded away into your memories. He never seeks out your presence anymore, which is polar opposite from your high school days, when he would follow you around and pester you until you’d hang out with him. You actually used to get annoyed at this behavior, but you’re sorely missing it now.

You feel like you know nothing about him these days, only hearing tidbits here and there from your mutual friend Shoko. It stings to know that he obviously talks to her, and quite often at that, seeing she always has new details to spill every other day.

It doesn’t make sense to you: him and Shoko were never particularly close, definitely not nearly as close as you and Gojo were. In fact, she thought of him as particularly annoying in high school, and often swore to you that she would cut all contact with him once they graduated.

Back then, you had rolled your eyes at her antics, never believing that anybody could cut Gojo out of their life, seeing as he simply wouldn’t let them. But how else could you describe what he seems to be doing to you?

You bite your lip nervously. “Satoru? Is there something wrong?”

“Not particularly,” He says with a forced smile that’s screaming for you to shut up. You pretend like it’s not the most disingenuous smile you’ve ever seen smeared on his face.

“Are you sure?” You probe. “I mean…what’s been going on with you these days? We haven’t seen each other in forever, and you don’t seem yourself.”

“Are you sure?”

His lips are quirked up, as they perpetually are, but it’s different this time. It’s mocking. A mocking smirk that’s telling you to face reality. Do you really know him anymore?

You pause in your steps, studying his expression. You can’t see his eyes, but you wish you could. He’s hard to read with that blindfold concealing those powerful eyes of his, but it never used to be a problem. It hurts that you’re now struggling to gauge him when your emotions used to feel like one.

Evidently, you can’t answer his question. Not that he seems to care.

“I’ve really got to get going. Students to teach, curses to kill, all that,” He announces, tone low and apathetic. Bored. “See ya.”

Your breath flutters in your throat as you try to bid him goodbye. You choke on your words and only end up tentatively raising a hand. Before you can wave, his form disappears. A gust of wind greets you in lieu of a proper goodbye.

You stay where you are for a few shocked moments, not even registering the hot tears that leak from the eyes he avoided.

You wander aimlessly around campus for a while, the whole interaction replaying in your head several times over. His “Are you sure?” needles its way into your brain even when you push it away, the words hitting where it hurts every time.

Your feet find themselves taking you to an empty break room – ah, this is the one that has your favorite flavor of tea. You turn the kettle on, then eagerly dig through the tea stash. You file through the individual packets quickly and thoroughly, but to no avail. It’s gone.

With a sigh, you grab a random tea bag and throw it into your mug. Frustrated, you roughly begin pouring the now-boiled water into the mug, but it doesn’t seem that was a good idea. Your hand slips for just a split second, but a sizable splash of boiling water still manages to singe your non-dominant hand. A stream of expletives leaves your mouth, and you instantly cradle your hand to your heart.

More tears appear. At least you have an excuse this time—it fucking hurts.

You trudge to the clinic, feeling quite silly, but also seeking some much-needed relief. And you’re not exactly imagining painkillers or an ice pack—no, there’s something else. Someone else.

You hesitantly knock on the door. You feel stupid, but you really have to see her.

You crack a smile at the creak of the door. Your friend and co-worker Shoko strides out with an air of confidence you wish you held.

“What happened?” She asks calmly, eyes lazily taking in your form.

“Spilled some water from the kettle,” You say lamely. “It hurts.”

That doesn’t really constitute a visit to one of the only reverse-cursed technique users in the school, and you know it. So does she.

“Mmhm,” She raises her eyebrows. “Well, come on in.”

You shuffle in a little sheepishly, not able to meet Shoko’s eyes. Now that you’re here, you start to feel unsure about your own motive—do you really want to discuss this? Won’t it just be embarrassing more than anything else?

You stall a little in your steps as the negative thoughts invade your head. You’re startled to attention by a poke to your side—when you look up, Shoko’s playful smirk fills your vision.

“Come on over to the sink and we’ll put that under some cool running water,” She says, gesturing to your reddened arm.

You cock your head, looking between her and the sink skeptically, “No ice?”

She shakes her head, sticking her tongue out at you a bit, “Nope! Running water for burns.”

You hold up your hands in defeat, smiling, “Whatever Doctor Shoko says.”

“And I do,” She says cheekily. “So get under that water!”

“Aye-aye,” You say with a salute.

She groans, “Ugh. You guys are so annoyingly similar. Hang on a sec, I gotta grab something.”

She turns away before she can see the way your expression drops. The smile is stolen from your face, leaving behind saddened eyes and a slight frown. There’s only one possible person she could be talking about.

You sigh and turn on the faucet—your disheartened sigh morphs into one of great relief as the cold water soothes your burn.

“That better?” Shoko asks upon her return.

You nod, a small smile coming back, “Yeah, thanks Shoko.”

“Is there something else wrong?” She asks, then shakes her head. “No, scratch that. What’s actually wrong?”

You take a deep breath. How are you going to broach this subject? You wait several moments, pondering your exact next words.

“Do you think Gojo is okay?” You finally ask your long-time friend, words coming out almost cautiously.

She eyes you funnily, “Why are you asking me? As if he doesn’t chase you around the school to blab on about himself.”

You smile, but it’s tainted by bitterness.

“Shoko…Gojo hasn’t talked to me for two months,” You admit quietly. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

She stops.

“What?”

You hate hearing the confusion in her voice. You hate the pity that soon fills her eyes.

“He seriously hasn’t,” You affirm, sighing. “I don’t know what I did, or if I did anything, or…or what. I just, I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Have you tried talking to him about it?”

You sigh. “Of course I have, but he didn’t seem to take my concerns seriously. Or consider them at all. It just seemed like he wanted me to shut up and leave him alone.”

Shoko looks at you curiously, lips quirking as if she has something to say, but no words come out. Is she holding something back?

You take a deep breath, willing the horrible emotion that squeezes your throat away. You look out the window to distract yourself, watching the branches of a sakura sapling swaying in the wind. It looks alone and lost, battered by the relentless wind.

“What’s he been like recently with you?” You finally ask, your gaze still on the tree.

“Normal,” Shoko says. “Annoying as ever. Noisy as ever.”

A cluster of pink petals is ripped from a branch, swirling hopelessly to the ground. When they settle on the ground, you look back to your friend.

“He’s really the same?” You ask weakly.

“Unfortunately,” She says wryly. “Besides, why do you care? We’ve both been trying to get him off our backs since waaay long ago. Sounds like a blessing in disguise.”

“Ah, that’s true,” You admit with a weak chuckle, trying to ignore the way your heart throbs painfully. “But he’s also our friend.”

“Since when? More like a thorn in my side. Maybe he finally got the message,” Shoko smirks. “You should give me instructions for that. I’d have a lot better quality of life, you know.”

You know she’s just joking around with you, but she’s truly just rubbing salt in your wound. Not very ethical for a doctor, even if unintentional.

“Yeah,” You laugh, but it’s an empty sound. “Well, I guess I’ll get going then. Hopefully your next patient gives you an easier time.”

Shoko jokes, “Yeah, this has been my toughest job all week. You fiend.”

Your head is filled with so many questions, all of them growing louder as you walk away from your friend. Your friend who you thought would sympathize with you, but only ended up making you feel worse in the end is acting suspicious. It’s not like you’ve ever wanted to actually cut ties with Gojo, even when he used to pull pranks on you in high school. You craved for a strong friendship with him throughout all his shenanigans.

Why is Shoko acting like you hate Gojo, and what isn’t she telling you?

Before you reach the door, you decide you need to know. You stop abruptly in your tracks.

“Ieiri, you’re not telling me something,” You say softly, not looking back. “Why?”

Shoko sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, “You don’t miss anything, do you?”

You say nothing. The door in front of you is tempting—it’s your way out of knowing the truth. Do you really want to know?

You wait tensely for a few seconds, the silence causing nerves to bubble up in your stomach. But when Shoko begins to speak, they go don’t go away.

“He hasn’t really been acting strange around me, but he’s constantly on his phone. Like always. Whenever he comes to chat, he immediately tunes me out and starts texting or loudly takes a call,” She snorts, huffing out an exasperated sigh. “I thought he was just bored and trying to make me feel disrespected as a sort of cruel joke, but I think it’s something else. I think…I think Gojo is interested in someone.”

Your head whips around, disbelief clear in your features. Interested in someone?

“Maybe that’s why he’s been acting weird. I always thought he was crazy for you, so it didn’t cross my mind until now.”

“Crazy for me?” You immediately echo back, voice hollow and confused.

Shoko shakes her head at you, “C’mon, you can’t be that oblivious. He always followed you around like a lost puppy in high school. He never said anything to me about it, but I really thought he would confess any day for years.”

“He did that to everyone…” You shake your head. “You say yourself he bugged you so much.”

She rolls her eyes. “Trust me, it was different.”

Your heart pounds in your chest. Your vision becomes foggy at the edges, reality fizzling out.

“Why didn’t you want to tell me?” You ask. “It’s not like that matters.”

You try to appear uncaring, yet it was a fight to get those words out.

“You’re a sensitive person. ‘Didn’t know how you’d react since Gojo always seemed to chase after your attention, exclusively. But it’s not like it was the other way around—should have known it wasn’t a big deal. It’s not. Guess he’s just growing up.”

“Yeah,” You agree faintly, voice devoid of emotion. Reality is slipping through your numb fingers, the information turning your world into a nightmare. You should have opened the door and ran when you had the chance.

“It’s not,” You say with a saccharine smile, one so sickly sweet that Shoko gets chills. That’s not your usual smile—not one that Shoko has ever seen you wear. “Of course it’s not.”

When you turn on your heel and rush out of her infirmary, Shoko reaches out a hand and her lips part to call after you. It’s uncharacteristic for her—the cold doctor is rarely sentimental or emotionally affected, but she saw something ghastly in that smile of yours.

The slam of the door answers her call. The truth, now imparted, comes to bite her in the ass.

It’s been a few days. You’ve been moping around the school, around your students—trying to cope with the information that you don’t even know is true. You see him across campus sometimes; he’s so easily spotted with his translucent hair and tall frame. Every time, he’s facing away from you, and your eyes fall on the back of his head. Your chest always tightens and you end up turning away, too.

You have ignored the feelings stirring in your chest, not willing to admit something that clearly isn’t reciprocated. It has been working, you suppose, since you haven’t cracked under the mental weight of possibly being in lo—

No, you can’t even think that.

Everything has been as okay as it can. It’s not until you attempt to visit Shoko again to try sort out your feelings, however, that things take a turn for the worse.

Your hand is raised as you prepare to knock on the infirmary door, but you hesitate once you hear muffled voices.

“I don’t know…I didn’t expect it at all.”

That’s Gojo’s voice. That low but self-assured tone is undeniably his.

“Expect what?” Shoko asks, sounding bored.

His reply is so soft that it passes by as just a hiss of air, so quiet that you physically startle at Shoko’s loud reaction.

“No! What? I can’t believe that!” She shouts, laughter quickly following her exclamation.

You shouldn’t be listening—you hadn’t planned to eavesdrop on your two best friends, but for some reason your ear seeks out the wall, as if magnetized.

The next three words uttered still your heart.

“Utahime kissed me,” Gojo admits quietly.

You feel like you can’t breathe. Utahime, who has always despised Gojo even beyond Shoko’s extent. Utahime, who once cried into your chest after Gojo was harsh with her at an exchange event. Utahime, who always persisted that you and Gojo were into each other during high school.

Shoko’s unbelieving chuckle cuts through your thoughts.

Shoko laughs, “Oh, yeah, okay, as if I’d ever believe that.”

There’s silence. Your heart drops at the lack of response—no teasing refute, no playful faux playboy attitude.

Shoko absorbs his unusual silence, finally interpreting his words for what they are.

She gasps loudly, spluttering, “Oh my God, you’re being serious. What?! There’s no way…”

Gojo’s voice is even and deep. “I didn’t lie. She just did it out of nowhere. I didn’t even know how to react, to be honest.”

“So you just stood there?” Shoko snorts, trying to keep up her usual sarcastic persona. “God, you’re insufferable all the way around.”

“I kissed her back,” He breathes out, voice almost weak.

Another long moment of silence ensues. You hold your breath, terrified that your panicked pants will alert them of your presence.

Shoko recovers quickly this time.

“Still insufferable,” She sighs, and you can imagine her shaking her head. “So what now? You like her or something? This is so random.”

“I…I don’t know,” He admits quietly. “I never thought she’d do that, it took me by surprise. I…I think I liked it?”

Your heart shatters. You clutch a hand to your mouth, gagging yourself, forcing back the pained gasp that’s threatening to leave your lips.

“Oh, is that so?” Shoko says drily, but the usual edge to her voice is absent. You can only imagine her expression: contorted with pity and pain, desperately trying to maintain her poker face.

“Yeah,” Gojo reaffirms. “It was nice.”

There’s silence for a few seconds as Shoko takes it all in. Then, “Is she who you’ve always been calling and texting when I’m talking to you? You’re an ass for that, by the way.”

Gojo exhales out a sardonic sniff, “You’re spot on.”

Why are you still listening? You should leave. You shouldn’t be hearing this. Pain blooms in your chest, as if thorns became lodged between your ribs.

“What about (Y/N)?”

You freeze, eyes bulging out of your head.

Gojo sighs, sounding annoyed, “What do you mean?”

“I’m not dumb, Satoru. There was something going on during high school and frankly in the past few years as well. Are you going to deny it?”

He scoffs, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Shoko. It was never like that.”

You feel like you’re going to be sick. You shouldn’t—there’s no possible way you’re actually in love with Gojo Satoru, is there?

Fuck. The thought you’ve been trying to avoid all this time has finally firmly inserted itself into your head.

You take off swiftly and immediately, and your footfalls are as light as you can possibly manage. If either of them knew you were here, you wouldn’t be able to handle the shame.

Gojo and Shoko are none the wiser to the immoral action that took place just beyond the door—so when Shoko is ready to clock out and opens the door, the presence of a school ID on the ground is nearly missed. She feels something strange crunch underneath her foot and steps away and glances at the foreign object.

You left in such a hurry that your ID flopped out of your pocket. It lays on the ground, your smiling face staring up at Shoko, who looks on in horror. She immediately knows that you heard everything. She quickly steps back onto your ID, concealing your identity with her foot.

With all the sight of his six eyes, Gojo somehow completely missed Shoko’s strategic maneuvers to erase traces of your presence. He whistles nonchalantly, not having a care in the world, apparently.

In contrast, Shoko’s mind is racing. Her eyes roam around the courtyard, searching for your form. She feels rooted to the spot—will she reveal you if she steps away? She almost forgets that she’s not alone.

“You looking for someone?” Gojo asks.

Shoko stiffens, but forces herself to relax and appear nonchalant. “Ah, I was just wondering if…if (Y/N) would still be around.”

Gojo frowns. “Hm. Not sure. Don’t they usually go home right after they get off?”

“Lately, they’ve been staying back to do paperwork,” She sighs. “Masamichi has really giving them too many missions…How come you don’t know that?”

“Haven’t had the chance to catch up, I guess,” Gojo says evasively, then quickly changes the subject. “Besides, aren’t you the same way? You coming or not? I’ve got better things to do.”

He waves his cell phone around playfully, a smirk widening across his features.

Shoko rolls her eyes, “Go ahead. I’m just going to wait here a bit and see if I can text them and get them over here.”

She hesitates for a second before adding, “Actually, why don’t you wait a sec? We haven’t all seen each other in a bit.”

Gojo immediately stiffens. He scratches the back of his head and says, “Ah, I’m actually sort of on a time crunch. Maybe next time.”

What a lie. Shoko thinks, eyes narrowing subconsciously. What is he up to?

As he trails off into the distance, the gears in Shoko’s head continue to turn. He always, always teleports home after work finishes. So why is he slowly walking around campus, head turning this way and that way as if searching?

And you! Why were you there? Why were you so affected? What is going on in your head—or rather, your heart?

Something strange is going on with her two friends and Shoko is determined to find out what.

next part

credit 🩷:

@kiyaedits - baby pink dividers, @sweetxmelody - cherry blossom divider

*note: taglist open!! comment to be tagged in part 2 :)

[the-virgoperspective]

Part 1

The Moon in composite is one half of the most important luminaries and one of the most vital sources of energy in a relationship. It complements the Sun and represents the medium through which the Sun’s energy expresses itself. The composite Moon indicates how well the relationship acts as a medium of emotional expression for the two. The house position of the composite Moon shows the area in which you feel, or ought to feel, that you have the most in common.

I will be using the writings of Robert Hand from his novel “Planets in Composite: Analyzing Human Relations” to describe the meaning and significance of the Moon in each composite house. Please always keep in mind that this is only one vital step to reading an entire composite chart and should not be seriously considered without viewing everything as a whole. This is just one piece. Enjoy!

1H Composite Moon

Composite Moon in the first house makes clear that in this relationship your feelings and emotions are very prominently involved. It is not a cool or distant relationship in which the two of you treat each other as distant objects. You will be in there with all your feelings working.

Obviously, this placement is favorable to any relationship in which you want to relate on a close, intimate level. However, it can create some problems that must be dealt with if you want to derive the greatest benefits from this configuration.

As the planet of emotions, the Moon emphasizes the subjective side of any matter. A prominently placed Moon can, at its best, indicate a very sensitive relationship in which the two of you know intuitively what is going on inside each other. You have a deep emotional understanding of how you get along. But the Moon can also create such a strong emotionalism that you are unable to stand back and look at yourselves clearly in terms of your relationship. In other words, your subjectivity overwhelms your ability to see each other objectively. Be careful to avoid such extreme emotional involvement.

The Moon also rules the past and the contribution each of you makes from your individual experience, so these factors will be very important to you. A first-house Moon is usually a strong indication of an important personal relationship. It should give the two of you a strong sense of emotional compatibility. You will feel that you belong together and that you have much in common, which will indeed be true.

2H Composite Moon

Composite Moon in the second house indicates that this relationship will bring out the needs you both have for emotional and material security. In fact, you may have come together because of those needs.

You will have a strong sense of shared values, which will help to reinforce you as a couple against the undependable and changeable outside world. Because of this shared feeling, your relationship will grow strong even when there are considerable difficulties between you. You will be reluctant to give up the emotional security granted by the Moon in this position, even when things get tense. But the need for security could keep you together even when that is not the best solution for either of you.

One minor problem that this placement can bring about is that your need for emotional security can lead to a compulsive gathering of physical objects. You may try to satisfy your need for emotional security through owning things together. In this case your relationship will come to be symbolized by great quantities of material possessions. Beyond a certain point, possessions can become a millstone around your neck that limits your freedom of movement. Particularly if this is a marital relationship, you might be trapped into staying together because of what you own rather than because the relationship is working well. Like everything else, possessions must be kept in their place.

Nevertheless, the security that this relationship can offer should be one of its strongest points and should help keep you together when the going gets tough.

3H Composite Moon

Moon in the third house implies that this relationship is based largely on feelings. The third house is the house of the mind in its day-to-day functioning, and in a relationship it indicates the normal attitudes and opinions that you share. When you are together, you think about yourselves more subjectively and are more influenced by your emotions. You communicate with each other primarily through feelings rather than through intellect, so communication between you is likely to be mostly nonverbal.

Because you have a strong sense of shared opinions and viewpoints, you may not really need to communicate so much on an intellectual, verbal level. But at the same time, because communication within the relationship is so subjective and emotional, it may be difficult to discuss things rationally and objectively when you have to.

You may talk quite a bit about your collective feelings, which obviously is good in a personal relationship if you keep your sense of perspective and don’t overdo it. Do not let this tendency degenerate into making mountains out of molehills.

In a marriage or love relationship you are likely to be involved to an unusual extent with relatives, who may in some way contribute to the emotional stability of the partnership.

4H Composite Moon

The fourth house is in some ways the most natural position for composite Moon, for there is a strong analogy between this house and Cancer, the Moon’s sign.

With this placement it is extremely important that the two of you share a common background or experience, for it is likely to be a strong force binding you together. You may feel that you are alone together in a crazy world, protected only by your shared attitudes and origins. However, it is not so important that your backgrounds be truly similar as that they have given you similar basic attitudes to the world.

Even more than in a relationship with a second-house Mon, you are together to give each other emotional security. And here again the security is very likely to take the form of sharing real estate or a house. This is an excellent position for a marriage partners or roommates because of the strong sense of sharing it can induce.

However, it is necessary to warn you that your desire for emotional security and the related tendency to seek material security should not become the sole factors binding you together. Also your need for a secure relationship must not lead you to repress the legitimate gripes you may have with each other. Let your partner know how you feel; your relationship is probably strong enough to stand the strain.

A fourth-house Moon is most favorable in a relationship in which you set up housekeeping together. For this reason it is a good position in the chart of a marriage.

5H Composite Moon

Composite Moon in the fifth house suggests that your relationship exists because it makes you both feel good, especially emotionally. Traditionally, the fifth is the house of amusement, love, and children. One could also call this the position of recreational relationships, in which self-expression is a principal aim. Obviously this is a good house position for any kind of personal relationship, especially a love affair. You will enjoy each other’s company immensely, and together you will seek out parties, the theater, nightclubs, and all kinds of good times. These experiences will be important in your feeling of what you share with each other.

The major deficiency of this position is that you may find it difficult to settle down to anything serious. This can be especially difficult in a marriage or long-term love relationship, for you can’t always have fun and games; at some point you have to work at the serious business of building a relationship together.

If this is a marriage, children are likely to assume an important role in your life together. With this position of the Moon, you will probably want to have children, and you will have them.

For the pleasantness in a relationship, this is one of the better Moon placements. It ensures that you will be able to express yourselves emotionally with each other easily and fully.

6H Composite Moon

The sixth house is a rather somber and serious placement for composite Moon. It suggests that you have a sense of having come together for a specific and necessary task or purpose that may not be completely pleasant. One of you may feel subordinated to the other in some way. Therefore, this is a difficult placement for any relationship that requires you to give and take equally, as most relationships do. One person may feel like a doormat for the other; he or she is likely to get tired of that position and revolt against the other.

The only way to make this position work is for the two of you to exchange services equally, thus preventing it from becoming a one-way affair. This may be more difficult than it sounds if one of you is determined to be a martyr, especially since a martyr usually demands some kind of repayment that is very difficult for the other to make.

A related danger is that one of you is giving more to the relationship emotionally than the other, you could become quite resentful about it.

Whatever the costs. You both must strive to be more nearly equal in giving and receiving. Otherwise, this relationship will become quite unpleasant.

Find part 2 here!

ᡣ𐭩 ombré divider by @cafekitsune ᡣ𐭩

[eustasskidagenda]

omg hi hi! i adore your writing so much :3! if its alright with you, could i get headcanons for how crocodile, law, kid, and ace would be with an autistic s/o who loves to infodump, but is nervous to do so. theres always this odd bit of shame that accompanies infodumping for me because i get so excited i cant properly articulate myself *lays down* its just a mess of stimming, stuttering, and laughing at my own jokes. i feel embarrassed after, even if its totally an illogical response. im unsure if you write for autistic y/n so feel free to ignore this if you dont. thank you so much <33

☆Crocodile, Law, Kid & Ace with an autistic s/o who loves to info dump 

Hello, dear anon! I'm not used to write autistic y/n, because I don't know enough about this and I wouldn't like to be harmful. However, the situation you're describing is something close to ADHD, which I know well. So I've made some additional researches to be sure and come up with something, I hope you will like it. Thank you for your request, it was a sweet one ♡

CW : g/n reader, slight curses for Kid, fluff 

WC : Around 1,500 words

Crocodile 

Crocodile doesn't talk much, he's always serious and quiet. It's just that he's often thinking about his business and plans. But he's a good observer and would immediately notice if you want to say something but are too nervous to do it. He knows you perfectly, so he would recognize the way you're fidgeting.

He's a man with good manners, so his first reflex would be to lock the door and make sure no one can enter and destabilize you. When it's done, he will point his chair towards you.

"Sit. I'm listening, y/n." 

Actually, he likes hearing you speak during hours. He knows it's a way to express your love and feelings. He's flattered that you want to share your world with him. Go ahead and speak, he will listen. Even if he's just nodding or commenting short sentences in response, he has a good memory and will remember everything you said to him. 

If you're talking too fast and start to get really flustered, he will let you know that you're speaking too fast, like 'y/n, what did you just say?' 

Your hyper-focus and info-dumping are appreciated by Crocodile because he enjoys learning new things and you're a source of knowledge. Maybe he's impassive and struggles to express his feelings, but sometimes you will hear him talk about what he learned with you, so clearly he listened to every single word. 

"Don't be ashamed, it was interesting. Can we talk more about this specific point?" 

If you say something that he is really curious about, he has no shame asking for more. It's a way for him to express his genuine care for you. For him, it's a way to prove to you that even though he's always quiet, he cares.

Law

Law is similar to Crocodile in his lack of emotional expression and limited speech. He is always busy, struggling with his parasitic thoughts and taking care of his patients. Finding some private time with you is a challenge for him. 

If you run into Law with excitement about your passion or new hyper-focus, he may feel embarrassed because it's not the perfect time for him. Autism is something he knows about, and he is an intelligent and educated man. And, he wants to make you feel safe and comfortable. 

"I'll be yours in a moment, y/n-ya."

He has a complete understanding of you and is an excellent observer. The way you're already blushing, fidgeting, and swallowing nervously. He can even hear your heart racing. So first thing first, he will tell you to take a deep breath. After all, he’s a doctor. 

"What do you wanna talk about?" 

As Crocodile, he's a great listener. When you're full of passion and excitement, he thinks you're cute. He likes the sound of your voice. He loves when you want to find him and talk about your passion, because you're offering him a break from his work. If you weren't there, he would be stuck either in work or in his own head. When he's with you, he can forget about his dream of avenging. You're his safe place, truly. 

He doesn't speak a lot. But he is listening.M and asks questions from time to time.

"Yn-ya, there's been no urge. Take your time." And if you're stuttering a lot, he would just say nothing because it's pointless to make a remark, as long as he can understand what you're saying, he will never say something about your elocution. 

"That's interesting, where did you learn that much?" 

Law is a curious and intelligent man, so he likes to learn more about almost everything. If it can help him with his plans or maybe his patients, it might even be beneficial for him.

During your bedtime together, he would ask you to talk about your passions. The way you talk and laugh is like his own lullaby. When you speak, he can find inner peace because it shuts down all the voices in his head. He might fall asleep sometimes when he feels tired. It's just that you're providing him with some relief. When he wakes up, he would be deeply sorry. "So, yesterday, you stopped at this precise point… what were you trying to say after?"

Kid 

Kid is so goddamn loud. And really passionate. He's focused on his goal of becoming the next PK and has loved mechanics and robotics since childhood. He would be aggressively sweet, like frowning when he notices how stressed and nervous you act towards him. "Hey, Y/N, why are you so fucking nervous? Just speak" 

He thinks you're cute with your cheeks all red. On the flip side, he's a bit confused. Why are you nervous? Is it his fault? He knows he's loud, hard to love and rough, but he cares about people he likes. Have you seen how he acts with Killer and his crew? He loves his people. 

And, as a punk, Kid is marginalized. He knows a lot about being different, and if you feel ashamed about it, he can understand. "Come on y/n, let's find a private place" 

Grab your wrist in an aggressive yet sweet way and lead you to his workshop or bedroom. He sits you on the bed with his arms crossed and eyebrows raised. "Now we're alone." 

So, you start talking nervously. It doesn't matter if the topic is interesting to him or not, he will listen. Because as I said, Kid is a passionate. Everything can be made interesting by passionate people. So, yeah, talk about birds, cakes, plushies, or anything stuck in your head. He will like it. And he enjoys the sound of your voice. He’s even flattered to be your special someone, the one you’re looking for when you need to talk. It fuels his ego and pride.

He will deal with your stuttering as he deals with Killer's laugh. He'll shut up and smash all the people making fun of you if there's something you hate about yourself. You're his s/o, no one can laugh at you and continue to live without facing his rage.

"Goddamn, slow down" yes, not the best with kindness, but at least he's paying attention. 

He wouldn't help but think you're really cute, with your eyes shining as you finally manage to relax and express how passionate you are. He understands your excitement because when he talks about robots, music, punk or weapons, he's exactly the same. 

Kid is not the most culturally advanced, it depends on the topic. He enjoys learning new things thanks to you or Killer, it's important for him to be credible, and he hates looking inferior in front of others. 

"See, there was no reason to be that nervous" When you finished speaking.

Just poke your cheek, grin and leave a mark of lipstick on your front-head before returning to his activities and yelling proudly to everyone he knows everything about the subject you just info-dump about.

Ace

The sweetest. Ace's personality is both compassionate and protective. He grew up with Luffy, so passionate and talkative people are something he knows a lot about. As he's proud of his brother, he's proud of you and can listen to everything you say for hours. 

"Y/N, is there something wrong?" 

Yeah, he would immediately notice that you're starting to get nervous. His first reflex is to find a more private place, if that's not already the case. He wants to do everything to make you feel safe and loved. If it's winter or just cold, he would even use his DF to warm the room. As soon as you're all comfortable, he'll run his fingers through your hair. "You know I will always listen." 

Ace doesn't speak a lot about what's on his mind. He's way too stubborn and always struggles with guilt due to the blood running through his veins. So he enjoys having someone like you. Your voice is soothing him, and he loves how passionate and honest you are always. 

For him, it's even amazing and unreal to have someone talk to him. You're treating him like a normal human and not a failure, because he feels like it often: unloved, unwanted and unworthy.

"Sweetie, you don't have to rush, we have the time, I'll always listen" if you start to speak too fast.

Would entwine his fingers with yours when you're stuttering and laugh heartily at your jokes. You remind him of his dear little brother. He feels lucky to have you by his side. 

"I could listen for hours." And he's totally honest.

If someone makes fun of you, he's truly mad. You are as significant to him as his brother or Whitebeard. And if someone makes fun of his loved-one, Ace is merciless and really impulsive.

"Please, say more about this specific point!", "Oh, really, that's so funny?" He wants to make you talk even more. Until you're finally relaxed and able to speak without stuttering, blushing, or anything else. He doesn't mind it, even if it lasts for hours. Once you're done, he has his usual sweet smile on his face. "That was so interesting, why are you so embarrassed?" 

So you explain to him that you feel embarrassed about your info dump because you're afraid to annoy people or talk too fast etc." It's alright, you won't bother me." 

You're his sunshine. He feels loved with you. He feels more than just the son of someone; he's just Ace, and that's the most beautiful thing in the world for him.

Such a sweet boy. ♡

[chiqelatasblog]

In the Middle of the Night🌙

-> Ao3 link is here.

-> Part Four is here.

Pairings : Bi-Han/ Sub- Zero x Reader, Kuai Liang/ Scorpion x Reader, Tomas Vrbada/ Smoke x Reader

Author’s Note : I apologize for the delay! The past couple of weeks have been incredibly stressful for me. I had several meetings and had to write protocols for my client’s case. Additionally, I visited a friend who was staying in a different province, four hours away from where I live. Everything seemed to overlap (and to top it off, even my menstrual cycle was 17 days late due to the stress). But now, everything seems to be settling down, and I’ve managed to clear my mind and focus on writing this chapter as soon as possible. I decided to split this chapter into two parts because I felt it would have a better impact, and I wanted to give the final chapter its own spotlight. I hope you enjoy reading it! Thank you for your patience and understanding.❤️

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CHAPTER FIVE : (READER)

Until now, you never thought that you could fall in love with three people at the same time.

You didn’t realize a few months ago that such a thing was possible, but now it felt as natural and normal to you as breathing. It was as if Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, and Tomas had always been a part of your life. You got used to their presence so easily that now it’s hard to imagine your life without them; you were so attached to them. It was a fact that you didn’t know them until a few months ago, but although you couldn’t quite describe it, it felt as if your souls had known each other for a long time. Your movements resembled pieces of a jigsaw puzzle—they were so complete. There was a nonverbal communication between you; sometimes you could effortlessly communicate without speaking, even just by looking. This situation was very special and unique for you, as you had never made such a connection with anyone before.

Each moment spent with them felt like a blessing. When Bi-Han’s stern gaze softened just for you, it made you feel cherished in a way you had never experienced before. Kuai Liang’s calm presence was a sanctuary, a steady anchor in the chaos of life. And Tomas, with his unyielding loyalty and kindness, filled your heart with warmth and light. The bond you shared with them was deeper than mere friendship. It was an unspoken promise, a silent understanding that no matter what happened, you would stand by them. You hadn’t yet said it out loud to any of them, but you loved all three with a special bond and emotion. Your actions and looks might have betrayed your feelings, but you lacked the courage to put it into words.

You would find yourself watching them, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude and affection. The way Tomas’s eyes glinted with mischief when he teased you, or how Bi-Han’s rare, gentle smiles made your heart flutter. Kuai Liang’s reassuring touch or kiss on your shoulder during moments of doubt spoke volumes about his unwavering support. Each of these little things cemented their place in your heart, making it impossible to imagine a future without them.

They had become a part of you, woven into the very fabric of your existence. And even though the words were yet to be spoken, your heart had already made its choice. They were the kind of people you would want to keep hidden in your heart forever, to protect and watch over.

Loving Tomas was like experiencing spring. He wasn’t as serious as his two brothers; he was polite, with a naivety that softened the expression in his light gray eyes, making them irresistible to look at. Despite the scars on his soul from a very young age, Tomas was brave. He was the first person to choose to trust you, and that trust felt like a precious gift. His sense of humor was not only funny but remarkably similar to yours, making your conversations a source of endless delight. His presence was like feeling the gentle warmth of the sun after the harsh cold of a long black winter. Every moment spent with him was filled with hope and joy, like the first flowers of the season blooming and signaling new beginnings.

His love was tender and kind, much like the soft rain that revives the earth after a prolonged drought. Being with him allowed you to embrace your inner child, escaping the harsh realities of life. You found joy in the simple pleasures of watching TV shows or movies together, taking care of mundane tasks, having small, meaningful conversations, and spending time with Ninja. His ability to bring simplicity and happiness into your life made every moment with him feel like a cherished memory in the making.

Loving Kuai Liang was like experiencing summer. His body was warmer than normal due to his pyromancy, and you found yourself surrounded by a gentle, safe warmth next to him, especially when wrapped in his strong arms. It was such a soothing feeling that most of the time, it made your eyelids feel heavy and sleepy because of the peace you felt. Although touching Kuai Liang was wonderful, he was afraid to touch you because of his dark past, fearing that he might tarnish you. When you heard that, it felt like you had been shot in the brain, and your heart painfully squeezed thinking about what this strong man had been subjected to. None of them had told you exactly what they had been through in the past—you knew bits about what happened with Leilani and a few other masters, but nothing more—but it wasn’t difficult to guess. So you left it entirely up to them to control the speed at which they wanted to move forward in the process. You wanted them to know that they had this power, that they had a say.

Every time you spent with Kuai Liang filled you with a vibrant energy, warming you to the core like basking in sunlight. His love was wild and passionate, yet he was also incredibly kind; it set your soul ablaze, much like the intense heat of a scorching day. You felt comfortable next to him, his presence enveloping you like warm summer nights. You enjoyed walking outdoors with him, cooking together with his help (especially since discovering his distinct fondness for sweets last week), chatting about past missions, and witnessing the proud expression on his face when you asked him to show his powers.

Loving Bi-Han was like experiencing winter. His true self, which emerged after overcoming his initially harsh and inaccessible exterior, exuded a unique warmth that demonstrated winter was not just about coldness. Like soft snowflakes falling to the ground in the serene beauty of a winter landscape, his touch was gentle and filled with longing. Though not as openly expressive as his two brothers, you could sense his love in the way he touched you or looked at you every time. Despite the coldness that seemed to envelop him, his gaze held a warm invitation that melted away the chill, filling you with a warmth that drew you to him.

Unlike Kuai Liang, Bi-Han was not one to avoid contact. Although the ice forces surrounding him usually caused harm to both himself and others, this rule didn’t seem to apply to you. Since realizing this, it was as if he couldn’t stop touching you. He never verbalized it, but every time a part of his body—his arm, hand, or leg—came into contact with yours, it was evident how much he cared. Though his touch initially felt cold and eerie, you soon grew accustomed to it, even finding it addictive. Despite appearances, Bi-Han served as the cornerstone among the brothers, keeping them united and shielded with his protective and steadfast demeanor. Being included in that circle filled your heart with love and made you feel special.

Even though Bi-Han was the last to let down his walls around you, getting used to him was quick and effortless, much like with the other brothers. You enjoyed conversing with him about his clan, listening to him describe his daily routines, and especially watching the city view in the evenings. The silence felt peaceful rather than suffocating, allowing for a range of unexpressed emotions to be felt in that moment. Moreover, witnessing his moments of care for Ninja when he thought no one was watching was another detail that melted your heart.

You were deeply connected to three men in a way that scared you a little. Your emotions were incredibly intense—the love you felt for them, their choice to trust you despite their painful pasts, the respect you held for their strength and courage, your anger at the injustices they faced, and your desire for revenge. You had never experienced such emotions so clearly and intensely, shaking you to the core. It was somewhat frightening, as your priorities suddenly shifted to them instead of yourself. Your sole focus became freeing them from the clutches of the book and its curse, with less than a week and a half remaining until the deadline.

Despite your efforts, you hadn’t found a solution yet. Since the owner of the book could only summon them once, you wouldn’t be able to see them again after the time limit passed. The thought of this damned you, filling your heart with great fear at the prospect of what they might face if Sektor failed to protect them when he came to retrieve the book after you, and it fell into the hands of a new person.

You were prepared to do whatever it took to prevent this outcome, but the lack of a solution filled you with terrible anxiety and drove you to the brink of madness. Just two months ago, your biggest concern was unemployment and paying rent, but now your problems had evolved into something entirely different. Your own worries seemed insignificant compared to the future of the men you loved. Breaking this curse had become the most important thing in your life right now.

Bi-Han’s change in attitude towards you had somewhat lessened the effect of the curse on you. However, it remained a relentless force, constantly gnawing at you in a corner of your mind. Whenever you were close to Tomas, Kuai Liang, or Bi-Han, it seemed to roar in your mind, filling you with a desire that was hard to resist. Your skin practically begged you to touch them, and sometimes the desire was so intense that it felt like you were engulfed in flames—it hurt and clouded your judgment, making you feel almost foolish. At times, the urge became so overwhelming that finding refuge in the bathroom seemed to be the only solution. While your fingers didn’t always provide the satisfaction you sought, they at least allowed you to regain some semblance of control. But the lingering feeling in your mind never disappeared. It was akin to eating without feeling satiated—it was relentless and unyielding.

Each passing day seemed to bring a new level of torment, as if the curse intensified with every sunrise. The pain became unbearable, almost akin to torture. You couldn’t eat, sleep, or even think properly in the last couple of days. Functioning normally seemed impossible, and at times, it became so overwhelming that even breathing felt like a challenge. You didn’t know how to endure this any longer. You were painfully aware that each day was worse than the last, and yet there seemed to be no end in sight. You were drowning in a sea of agony, struggling to keep your head above water.

Despite the agony you endured, you were determined to bear the burden alone. You knew that all three of them wanted to help you, hating to see you suffer. Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to accept their help. You didn’t want them to be involved with the curse in any way. Forgiving and moving on with your life would be impossible if they intervened, so you chose to ignore them and continue caring for yourself in your own way.

Thrusting your hands into the pockets of your raincoat, you gazed up at the reddening sky, returning from yet another unsuccessful job interview. How you wished the answer lay somewhere out there. You had tried everything written in all the sources you could access, masking your disappointment even as each failure chipped away at your hope. Trying to guess how they felt and what they were thinking only added to your frustration, yet you refrained from showing it, knowing they needed your support more than your despair. In the ten years since they were cursed, they had endured far more disappointments than you had faced in two months. You could imagine how futile it must have felt for them to continue hoping. They had exhausted their strength fighting disappointment after disappointment, opting instead to cherish the present moment—a reality that broke your heart a little.

The fact that they had accepted their situation and grown tired of fighting weighed heavily on you. Yet, you couldn’t blame them for choosing this path. Instead, you took it upon yourself to fight for them. However, with each passing day and no solution to the curse in sight, a heavy weight descended upon your shoulders, threatening to crush you. Despite the growing despair, you knew you had to keep fighting for them. You were their only hope, their only chance at breaking the curse.

Witnessing them struggle against the influence of their past only intensified your own turmoil. Despite Tomas sometimes managing to fall asleep, there were nights when he woke up with unfamiliar eyes, as if he didn’t recognize where he was, his body stiffening as if his breath would be snatched away. Occasionally, you were able to calm him down in the morning, but even then, Tomas seemed powerless against his own imposing body.

Kuai Liang, on the other hand, often woke up drenched in sweat from nightmares, avoiding your attempts to soothe him. He repeatedly muttered about his fear of contaminating you too, leaving you barely holding yourself together as you fought the urge to tightly embrace him. His pain was palpable, almost physically hurting you.

As for Bi-Han, there were times when he hadn’t slept for days, his body tensed with the need to protect them from imagined external dangers, leaving small traces of ice and freezing cold wherever he passed. Rings of exhaustion encircled his eyes, his face taking on a statuesque and lifeless appearance, his gaze fixed on the windows and doors. It took you hours to convince him that there was no imminent danger and coax him into relaxation.

All three of them exuded danger; their capabilities to take lives were apparent from their looks and the threatening aura they emitted. Their muscular, powerful bodies spoke of a lifetime of training for combat. This reality became especially clear when they touched you—it was too easy for them to cause harm if they chose to. They possessed a suppressed power that pained you to witness. Despite being honorable men, it must have wounded their pride and soul to see themselves in such a vulnerable state.

Your train of thought was abruptly halted by the sound of someone calling your name. As you lifted your gaze from the sidewalk, you were met with the sight of a stranger standing beside Sektor, the same man you had encountered weeks ago under rather peculiar circumstances. Sektor, as formal as ever, greeted you, his black hair streaked with long gray tufts and his neatly trimmed beard suggesting recent grooming. Standing beside him was a figure who exuded an otherworldly aura, his piercing blue eyes unsettling and filled with an uncanny intensity. With a formal gesture, he crossed his arms, revealing intricate dragon tattoos that seemed to shimmer with an ethereal glow, mirroring the luminance of his gaze. Despite the chill in the air, there was an unexpected warmth in his smile as he uttered your first and last name, as if he had been anticipating your arrival.

You stood frozen, momentarily taken aback by the presence of the enigmatic figure before you. Tentatively, you ventured, “Lord Liu Kang?”

“Yes,” came the calm reply, confirming his identity. Despite his formidable stature and commanding presence, his voice carried a soothing timbre, putting you somewhat at ease. Strands of his long, obsidian hair were gathered in a half bun behind him, dressed in traditional Far Eastern attire, his hands were swathed in bandages, to his hand to elbow. It was surprising to see him in such ordinary garb, far removed from the divine image you had conjured in your mind. Yet, there was an undeniable aura of power and authority that emanated from him, accentuated by the eerie glow of his tattoos and the intensity of his gaze.

“Sektor has briefed me on the situation and the curse,” Liu Kang continued, taking a deliberate step forward. “May I have a word?”

As you silently nodded in agreement, Liu Kang motioned for you to follow him, leaving Sektor behind as the two of you made your way to a more secluded area, away from the crowd.

“Do you know how to break Quan Chi’s curse?” you voiced the question that had been weighing heavily on your mind since you first laid eyes on him. As a god, you assumed he held the answers to questions and problems that eluded mortals.

“It’s a curse I’ve encountered before,” he replied, his demeanor calm yet tinged with a hint of anger that simmered beneath the surface. “An ancient and demonic curse, leaving behind lasting damage, particularly to the mind. I am familiar with how to dispel such curses, but the solution is not one you will easily accept.”

“I want to save them.” Your voice suddenly became muffled, the tears that filled up as you thought about this situation and tried to hold them back, now that the three of them were not around, instantly began to flow down your cheeks. If you were a little embarrassed that you were crying in front of this man-god you never knew, the helplessness and grief you felt was even greater. “I can’t let them go back to the book again. What needs to be done to lift the curse? Please tell me, this has to stop.”

“You possess a pure heart,” The Fire God’s gaze fell upon you, a mix of sorrow and compassionate understanding that softened his features. “It has become increasingly rare to encounter individuals like you in this day and age… Black magic is inherently cruel, and so are its remedies,” he continued, his expression growing solemn. “There is only one method to lift the curse: the owner of the book must make a sacrificial offering of themselves.”

You fell into a stunned silence, grappling with the weight of his words as they reverberated in your mind. Your lips parted, but for a moment, it felt as though words had deserted you. Eventually, you managed to utter a whisper-like voice.

“So, what you’re saying is…”

“Death,” Liu Kang interjected sharply, his tone cutting through the air with finality. “This curse, rooted in ancient and potent sorcery, is designed by practitioners of black magic like Quan Chi to be unbreakable. The spell binds not only the cursed individuals but also the owner of the book, tethering your life energy to its pages until they return to its confines. Thus, any attempt to resist only serves to intensify the curse’s grip, compelling you to act against your will. The only path to freedom is through the ultimate sacrifice.”

Liu Kang’s gaze darkened with anger, a muscle twitching on his chin as his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His eyes, which seconds ago were warm and comforting, now blazed with righteous fury, their intensity piercing through the air like a searing flame.

“The curse is insidious,” he began, his voice laced with frustration. “It draws power from your life energy and intertwines it with their fate. As long as the owner of the book lives, the curse will persist. However,” he continued, his tone lowering to a solemn register, “if the owner willingly sacrifices their life, the curse will vanish along with the book, its source extinguished forever. It’s a trade-off, a cruel exchange that inevitably claims one side or the other. That’s the essence of black magic.”

You found yourself speechless, unable to even swallow past the lump in your throat. The gravity of Liu Kang’s words hung heavy in the air, casting a pall over your thoughts. Sacrifice your own life? The notion seemed incomprehensible, unfathomable, yet here it was, staring you in the face like an immutable truth carved in stone. With your family, dreams, and aspirations still within reach, could you bear to relinquish it all? Could you summon the courage to make such a sacrifice?

Strangely, these questions didn’t pierce your heart as much as the thought of never seeing all three of them again. Each day seemed more agonizing than the last, and you knew that the brave facade you wore didn’t fool anyone. Yet, you couldn’t bear the idea of burdening them with the curse’s weight and prompting them to take drastic action. You had found them too soon to lose them; the prospect losing them now felt unbearably cruel, like a dagger twisting in your soul. Their presence had became so integral to your life that you had actually forgotten what loneliness felt like.

You loved them, each with their own unique characteristics and qualities, with a possessive and fierce intensity unlike any love you had ever known. So when the answer came to you in a heartbeat, it didn’t scare you; instead, it settled on your shoulders like a comforting blanket, a peaceful weight that affirmed your resolve. Their needs, desires, and happiness were paramount to you, more precious than anything else in the world. As you reflected on the countless hardships they had endured, the thought of subjecting them to further suffering became unbearable. The power to end their torment lay within your grasp; you could not turn away from that responsibility. Though you couldn’t be with them in the way you longed for, you were determined to secure their well-being, even if it meant sacrificing your own life. They deserved nothing less than to reclaim the lives they had been denied for so long, to find happiness and peace in a world free from the curse’s grip.

“You don’t have to do this,” Liu Kang said, his voice soft yet filled with understanding.

“And shall I allow them to return to the book? No, I will never allow it,” you declared, your voice ringing with newfound determination. “I made a promise to them… My love for them eclipses all else, even my own life.”

Even as the curse neared its end, you couldn’t bear the thought of it being their final memory, tainted by your tears and suffering as each day brought more agony. You wanted to leave them with fond memories, to be remembered in a positive light. The idea of confessing your love to them seemed daunting until just ten minutes ago. Despite never feeling ready to bid them farewell, you knew it was inevitable.

“How am I to do it? With a knife?” you asked, your voice trembling with uncertainty. “I… I can’t take my own life. Will you help me?”

A myriad of emotions flickered across Liu Kang’s face, as if your question had unleashed a torrent of conflicting thoughts within him. You were taken aback by the sight of such ‘human’ emotions on the face of a god.

“I wish there were another way, one where you wouldn’t have to bear this burden alone,” Liu Kang sighed, his voice heavy with regret. “Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, and Tomas aren’t merely my chosen warriors; they’re also my friends—more than just allies. You are sacrificing yourself to save them; of course, I will assist you in any way I can.”

“And will you make it as painless as possible?” you asked, your voice tinged with a slight fear.

With a solemn nod, Liu Kang replied, “They will remember this act of immense bravery and courage for the rest of their lives. Your sacrifice, while saving them, will also haunt them forever.’’ You acknowledged it inwardly. Yet, the moment Liu Kang proposed the solution, your decision was made. You meant every word you said; they meant more to you than anything else, and you wanted them to reclaim the life that had been stolen from them. If sacrificing yourself was the path to ensure their freedom, then so be it.

“I want to bid them farewell,” you said, your gaze falling to the ground. “But the final act… I cannot bear to do it in front of them, especially Tomas. After what happened to his family, it would be too traumatic for him.”

‘’Of course,” Liu Kang replied, his voice filled with understanding. You gulped and lifted your gaze to the sky, silently observing the clusters of red clouds and the golden sun, its light waning as it prepared to set. The realization that this would be your final sunset weighed heavily on your chest, a palpable heaviness that seemed to anchor you to the ground. As you tried to swallow past the lump in your throat, a tear escaped, tracing a solitary path down your cheek. Your voice emerged hoarse, almost strained with emotion.

“I wish it hadn’t come to this. I would have cherished more moments with them.”

“Sometimes, even a god cannot interfere in the complex fabric of life,” Liu Kang said, tilting his head back to gaze at the sky alongside you. “Each thread is woven with its purpose and outcome. There are two paths before you, and the latter entails your choice to end your life. While I respect your decision, I must ask one last time: are you certain about this?”

As Liu Kang’s luminous blue eyes bore into yours, a sense of calm washed over you, a tranquility that spoke of acceptance and resolve.

“More than anything.”

***

As you returned home, it felt as though your body no longer belonged to you. You couldn’t recall how you had made the journey back; it was as if you had been moving through molasses, each step slow and heavy. Though your surroundings appeared blurred, your thoughts remained clear, cocooning you in a blanket of comfort and unwavering determination.

Upon softly opening the door, the scene that greeted you shattered what little remained of your heart. Bi-Han occupied the single seat he always favored, gently stroking Ninja’s head as the cat slept soundly in his lap. A rare, tender smile graced his lips, a sight that had become increasingly frequent in recent days. Meanwhile, Kuai Liang and Tomas sat cross-legged, engrossed in something on your laptop, their occasional laughter filling the room with warmth and joy. The serene atmosphere tugged at your heartstrings, leaving you both comforted and conflicted. How could you possibly break the news of your decision to them?

Caught in a state of frozen uncertainty, it was Kuai Liang who first noticed your presence. His expression of happiness dissolved into pure astonishment at the sight of Fire God and Sektor standing behind you.

“Lord Liu Kang?” he exclaimed, disbelief evident in his voice. As his words hung in the air, the rest of the brothers turned their heads towards the entrance, mirroring Kuai Liang’s surprise. They remained rooted in place for a few seconds before Bi-Han took decisive action. Carefully lowering Ninja to the ground, he strode forward to stand before Liu Kang, bowing his head respectfully in greeting.

“Lord Liu Kang.” Bi-Han uttered, his tone a mixture of reverence and warmth.

Liu Kang’s gentle smile widened as he placed both hands on Bi-Han’s shoulders, lifting him upright. “Bi-Han, it has indeed been a long time,” he acknowledged. His glowing eyes shifted to encompass Tomas and Kuai Liang, who had gathered behind Bi-Han. “It is truly a pleasure to see the warriors of the Lin Kuei, defenders of Earthrealm, and my friends once again.”

“The pleasure is ours,” Kuai Liang replied, his voice infused with warmth and sincerity as Bi-Han’s. They all expressed their respect and embraced each other in a brotherly hug, a sight that surprised you, especially seeing a god joining in. Engaging in small talk, their camaraderie was palpable. Bi-Han’s gaze then shifted towards Sektor, who stood silently beside you. His brow furrowed slightly, silently questioning his right-hand man.

“Sektor? You didn’t come all the way here just to show Lord Liu Kang, did you? It’s still more than a week until you’re supposed to take the book.”

Sektor didn’t answer, instead, when he gave you an evasive glance, Bi-Han instantly caught his gaze and his expression hardened. As he crossed his arms on both sides, the cold waves of air that began to spread over him tingled your skin.

‘’What’s going on?’’

‘’Bi-Han,” you interjected in a gentle, strained voice, struggling to suppress your emotions while the curse writhed inside you more cruelly than ever. The pain surged higher and more severe than you were accustomed to, causing your knees to momentarily tremble. Bi-Han easily grabbed you by the waist and pulled you to himself, his expression shifting from one of composure to one of anxious concern in an instant, causing your heart to flutter. Knowing how strict he was with himself about showing his feelings compared to his brothers, it filled you with happiness to see how much he had progressed in such a short period of time. It was the greatest proof of the depth of his feelings for you. Bi-Han was a stoic man, never one to show vulnerability. Seeing him like this now was both heartwarming and overwhelming. He was laying himself bare before you, offering his feelings on a platter, and you realized you could easily hurt him if you chose to, because he was showing you his vulnerability so openly.

“Are you all right?” Bi-Han’s hand gently cupped your face, his calloused fingers stroking your cheek. “Did you cry?”

At his question, Tomas and Kuai Liang turned their gaze toward you. You quickly composed yourself, the callouses on his hand providing a comforting touch against your skin. With a slight tremble in your voice, you managed a reassuring smile, your eyes reflecting a mixture of gratitude and sadness. You wanted to remain strong until the very end, to etch a lasting impression in their minds.

“I’m fine,” you replied, your voice surprisingly calm despite the turmoil within. You savored Bi-Han’s protective touch, the coolness of his skin a stark contrast to the warmth of his presence. The scent of cold and fresh snow emanating from him filled your senses, your fingers traced the contours of his strong features lovingly, committing each curve to memory. A lump formed in your throat, making it hard to swallow, as you fought back tears that threatened to spill over. Gently winding the few remaining tufts of his black hair into a small bun, you planted a tender kiss on his pale lips, conveying all your emotions in that fleeting moment. Stepping back, you caressed his cheek one last time, the rough texture of his short stubble a familiar sensation against your fingertips. Bi-Han’s expression grew increasingly worried, his furrowed eyebrows revealing his confusion as he searched your eyes for answers.

However, instead of offering an explanation, you gently slipped out of Bi-Han’s grasp and made your way to Kuai Liang, who stood beside him.

“What’s going on? Why are you acting like this?” Kuai Liang’s voice was laced with concern as he carefully cupped your face with both hands, his thumbs stroking your skin. You responded with a soft smile, kissing one of his palms before silencing him by placing your finger on his lips. His brow furrowed in confusion, the joy from moments ago fading from his face. You felt a pang of guilt for dampening his spirits, but you knew that everything you were about to do was for their well-being. They would no longer suffer, be exploited, or have their consent disregarded. They would reclaim their dignified lives, where they rightfully belonged.

As Kuai Liang fell silent, you withdrew your hand, savoring the warmth emanating from his body for what would be the last time. Despite his formidable appearance, he exuded a comforting aura, his skin radiating health, his stance unwavering. The faint scent of ash, a remnant of his pyromancy, mingled with the aroma of cedar reminiscent of summer nights, enveloping his bronze-toned physique. His amber-brown eyes, usually filled with determination, now held a soft, worried gaze as they met yours.

Struggling to maintain your smile, you rose onto tiptoe and pressed a gentle kiss to Kuai Liang’s lips. “It will be all right.” you assured him, though your voice faltered toward the end. Blinking back tears that threatened to cloud your vision, you swiftly moved to Tomas’s side before Kuai Liang could reach out to you once more.

There was an obvious panic on Tomas’s young face as he scrutinized you from head to toe with his gray eyes. You felt a pang of guilt for causing such distress. Though you kept your shoulders straight, reminding yourself of your purpose, and tried to maintain a smile, tears welled up in your eyes again when Tomas uttered your name in desperation. Instantly, you enveloped him in a tight hug.

“Talk to us, what’s going on? Did someone hurt you? Just give us their names,” Tomas pleaded, his muscular arms circling you protectively, as if he wanted to shield you from everything, even though you were the one who wanted to do the same for him.

You shook your head in response, planting a kiss on Tomas’s cheek. The faint scent of embers lingered around him, reminiscent of burning wood. Whether from his smoke magic or not, the smell defined Tomas—wild and free. Despite his formidable abilities as an assassin, his naive trust in you was evident. Stepping back, you met his gaze, his gray eyes almost appearing blue in the light. Though he possessed frightening strength and abilities, the vulnerability in his eyes told a different story. Swallowing back your emotions, you resolved that he wouldn’t suffer from the curse’s torment any longer.

You remembered how Tomas had reacted when the power went out a few days ago—it was as if everything had been reset that evening, despite the progress he had made since leaving the book.

“Tomas, it’s okay. You’re safe. You’re not in the book; look, I’m here. Your brothers are also here,” you reassured him, trying to calm his frantic state.

Thanks to the small fireball Kuai Liang created in his hands, Tomas became clearly visible. The silver-haired assassin stood frozen, breathing heavily, fists clenched, his gaze darting around erratically. Sweat matted his short hair against his forehead, glinting in the dim light of the room.

“Tomas,” you called softly again, reaching out to him, but Bi-Han stopped you, gripping your wrist firmly.

“He might hurt you,” Bi-Han warned, his voice harsh and protective. “He’s out of his mind right now, more like a cornered animal than a human being.”

“He’s just scared, that’s all,” you countered, disregarding Bi-Han’s warning. Carefully, you approached Tomas, making sure not to startle him further. “Tomas? Let me touch you, let me show you that you’re not there anymore.”

As you raised your hand to touch him, Tomas’s gaze fixed on you, his jaw clenched tightly. An angry, almost aggressive snarl escaped his lips. Bi-Han and Kuai Liang moved to protect you, but you signaled for them to stay put. Sudden movements and sounds would only agitate Tomas further.

“You’re not there, Tomas. It’s been two months since you came out of the book. You’re in my house, next to me. Look,” you reassured him, your hand gently touching his cheek. Tomas flinched violently, but he didn’t lash out. Though he remained as still as a statue, his gaze shifted to focus on you.

“You don’t want to scare Ninja anymore, do you?” you continued, noticing a slight softening in Tomas’s expression. A low, plaintive sound escaped his throat, resembling the whimper of a wounded animal. “Shh, everything is fine. I know, I know. Come, let me hug you.”

Gathering courage from his stillness, you wrapped your arms around him. Tomas melted into the embrace, his grip tightening around you as he took a sharp breath. Despite the pressure from his strong frame, you made no sound, understanding his need for this connection. As Tomas whispered your name like a prayer, your heart swelled with love and pain, wishing you could heal the wounds inflicted on his soul by the curse.

Your hand found the short tufts of gray hair, stroking them lovingly as you planted a kiss first on his cheek and then on his forehead. “I’m here. It’s all right, you’re safe, Tomas.”

And now you had the power to break this curse.

“You frighten me,” Tomas’s voice interrupted your thoughts, drawing your attention. His words echoed the fear and confusion swirling within you, amplifying the emotional turmoil.

You fought to maintain the dwindling smile on your face as you leaned in to kiss Tomas goodbye on the lips. Every touch, every gesture, was imbued with a depth of feeling that words could not fully express. It was a bittersweet farewell, filled with love and longing. Then, you turned to look at Kuai Liang and Bi-Han, their expressions clouded with concern.

“I love all three of you,” you whispered, the words heavy with emotion. For days, you grappled with how to express this overwhelming feeling, the realization that they had become the foundation of your world, each one holding a profound significance in your heart. The mere thought of voicing these sentiments once filled you with breathless anticipation, but now, as the words escaped your lips, they carried a weight you couldn’t bear alone. Indeed, the pain of the curse paled in comparison to the heaviness in your heart. “Please don’t be angry with anyone, okay?”

“Why are you saying these things?” Bi-Han’s voice cut through the air like shards of ice, his tone rigid and unyielding. Understanding his reaction became easier as you got to know him. He tended to become aggressive when he didn’t want to show his emotions – especially when panicked or afraid. This was one of those moments.

“To whom, why should we be angry?” Tomas’s voice conveyed his confusion. His genuine perplexity only served to deepen the ache in your chest, reminding you of the innocence he still retained despite everything he had endured. You took a deep breath, after stroking Tomas’s cheek for the last time, you stepped back. However, Kuai Liang stopped you by grabbing your arm.

“Tell us what’s going on.” he demanded, his voice taking on a tone you had never heard before. It was the first time you heard him speak like this. Despite his usual warmth and politeness, even when discussing his past, his voice now turned cold, almost resembling that of his older brother, but never had it been this harsh and demanding.

“I will lift the curse,” you stated firmly, leaving no room for argument. “It’s my decision, so don’t hate me or anyone in this room for this, okay? I want what’s best for you.”

“Don’t we have a say in this? And how will you lift the curse?” Kuai Liang’s tone showed his displeasure. He shook you, and the words came out as a snarl. The fire burning in his eyes was evident, his touch alarmingly hot. But behind this intensity, the concern and fear he felt were clear in his expression, open and vulnerable. “Speak!”

“This is a farewell,” Bi-Han said in a single breath, his words cutting through the tension like a knife. “You are saying goodbye to us.”

“No!” Tomas, standing up to Kuai Liang, grabbed your other arm and turned you around to face him. “Tell me it’s a lie.”

You swallowed hard. As your composure, which you tried to maintain, slowly crumbled, your lower lip trembled, and tears flowed freely. An expression of denial appeared on the faces of the three of them, indicating their refusal to accept what was about to happen.

“I’d love to,” you responded to Tomas. “But Bi-Han is telling the truth.” After inhaling deeply, you squared your shoulders and fought back the tears. “I love all three of you very much. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. I made a promise, and I will keep it. I will set you free.”

“How?!” Bi-Han appeared in front of you with a roar, gripping your chin and forcing you to meet his furious gaze. “Whatever sacrifice you’re considering, I won’t allow it. Do you hear me?! You’re not doing anything! We will find another solution.”

“There is no other solution,” you said tearfully, freeing yourself from his grip and placing your hand on his. “I can’t set you free any other way, Bi-Han.”

“No. I said no damnit!” Bi-Han’s voice was adamant. “You stubborn woman, listen to me; I won’t allow it.”

“I’m so sorry,” you said, your voice trembling. “I wish there was another way, but it’s the only way, and I’m ready to fulfill it gladly. I’m not going to let you stop this.” You glanced over your shoulder at Liu Kang. The Fire God watched in silence, his gaze betraying a mix of sadness and anger at the injustice of the situation. “I am ready.”

As Liu Kang nodded his approval, an aggressive growl rumbled from Bi-Han’s throat, his dark, furious gaze fixed on Liu Kang now. Layers of frost and sharp ice began to grow on his skin, a chilling armor of determination as he prepared to confront a god to protect you. It was evident that while they respected Liu Kang deeply, you held an even greater significance to them in that moment, compelling them to face him in order to shield you from harm.

“Don’t you fucking dare. Don’t come close—” he warned, his voice carrying the weight of finality.

“I have the utmost respect for you, Lord Liu Kang, but if you take one more step, I will have to attack you.” Tomas’s voice pierced the tense air, devoid of its usual warmth, cold and chillingly clear. His bright eyes, once filled with warmth, now darkened and focused with an intensity that chilled you more than Bi-Han’s powers.

Aware that what you were about to do would haunt you forever, you steeled yourself. Despite the weight of your decision, there was no other choice. Your sole aim was to bring an end to this ordeal swiftly and without further harm. The thought of anyone else being affected by the curse was unbearable.

“Nobody’s going to do anything,” you said, turning your gaze away from Bi-Han and fixing it on the wall behind him. You couldn’t bear to meet their eyes. “I order all three of you to remain in your places and not to move.”

Your command hung in the air, heavy and tense. A suffocating silence descended upon the room, broken only by the sound of their ragged breaths. This was the first and last time you’d give them orders. It was for their sake, but it didn’t ease the guilt gnawing at you. You’d betrayed their trust. A few more tears escaped down your cheeks as you walked towards the book on the kitchen counter, still avoiding their gazes. You easily slipped out of Bi-Han’s loosening grip, determined to see this through to the end.

As you mentally prepared to pick up the book and materialize into the Fire Temple, it remained stubbornly unmoved. Furrowing your eyebrows, you tried to lift it with both hands, but it felt as if the book weighed a ton. A searing heat radiated from your fingertips to your hand, threatening to melt your skin and expose your bones if you held on any longer. With a small whimper, you pulled your hands back, and Liu Kang came into view.

“The curse knows what you’re about to do, that’s why it won’t let the book move.” He explained.

“But… if we can’t take it with us—then…” you trailed off, a sense of helplessness washing over you.

“Yes,” Liu Kang replied in a carefully flat voice.

“I don’t want them to witness this,” you said, your eyes flickering to the three men you held dear. Their faces revealed a tumult of emotions—betrayal, concern, and fear all intertwined. Despite their futile attempts to defy your command and approach, their efforts proved fruitless. Veins protruded on their skin, and deep furrows etched across their foreheads, with Tomas even beginning to bleed from his nose. Knowing there was no alternative, you fought back a fresh wave of tears, though they continued to betray your resolve. “All right,” you sniffed, quickly dabbing your eyes to dry the tears, lifting your chin to meet Liu Kang’s gaze once more. “Do it quickly, please.”

“Liu Kang!” Kuai Liang shouted, trying to launch the fireballs that appeared in both his hands but failing because of some kind of invisible wall that forced him to stay still. “Don’t you dare hurt her!”

“Get away from her!” Bi-Han said furiously. “I swear, if you touch her, I’ll fucking kill you!”

“No, you won’t hurt him.” In as soft a voice as possible, the second command poured from your lips. “This is my last plea to you, please don’t hurt anyone.” Your gaze turned to Sektor, who caught your wordless request. With silent steps, his head tilted to the ground, he approached, took out the hunting knife from the scabbard at his waist, and handed it to Liu Kang.

“No!” Tomas struggled on the spot, shouting, trying every way to break free from the order that was suppressing him. It destroyed you to feel the desperation in his voice. “No, Sektor, stop! Lord Liu Kang, don’t do this. Please!”

“Place your hand on the book. I know it will hurt you, but I will make it as quick and light as possible,” Liu Kang said, falling deaf to the screams behind him. However, there was a weight in his voice that made him seem more mature than he was. You did what he said, taking strength from the gentle expression on his face to keep you calm. A sizzle rose up in your flesh. You bit your lower lip and held yourself back from squealing in pain. You were going to handle this quietly; you were going to stand strong for them.

‘’Repeat after me: as the keeper of this book, I offer a pact. I unbind Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, and Tomas from the Lin Kuei Clan, the chains that tether them to this book, in exchange for the sacrifice of my own life. From this moment onward, they shall walk free from this curse. My blood and my life shall seal these words.’’

After you echoed his words, despite the screams and chaos around you, Liu Kang delivered the first stab with the knife from Sektor. When the blade pierced under your ribs, you gasped sharply. The pain was more sudden and searing than you had anticipated. Your balance wavered, and the burning pain in your hand seemed insignificant compared to the deep cut now bleeding beneath your ribs. As your misty gaze fell on the book under your hand, you saw the length of the cut forming there.

“Stop! By the elder gods, please stop! Bi-Han, brother, stop them!” Tomas’s desperate cries rang in your ears. Turning your head to him, you murmured in a voice hoping to comfort him.

“It doesn’t hurt, I swear.” Tomas’s expression shattered, his gray eyes shining with unshed tears, making him look younger and more vulnerable than ever. “It’s okay, everything will be okay.”

When Liu Kang raised his hand for the second blow, you closed your eyes. At that moment, Bi-Han’s furious, despairing voice cut through the air, filled with deadly determination.

“Liu Kang, she’s innocent! Stop it now, or I swear to you—No!” Bi-Han’s voice rang out as the knife plunged into your stomach. Your knees buckled, and you collapsed to the ground, but you kept your hand on the book despite the pain. Your hand went numb, whether from the pain or from the nerves being destroyed, you couldn’t tell. Everything had become a big ball of agony. The metallic taste of blood rose in your throat, filling your mouth. You coughed to avoid choking, and blood splattered around, some of it flowing down your lips.

‘’It’s okay… It… Doesn’t hurt.’’ You managed to murmur, the words feeling foreign on your tongue. Your lips felt numb, as if disconnected from your voice, and your tongue seemed to weigh heavy in your mouth.

“Don’t lift the curse, stop!” Kuai Liang’s cries were muffled by the pounding in your ears. Everything around you blurred into a chaotic whirl of colors and sounds, like trying to focus underwater. Each breath was a struggle, a battle against an unseen weight pressing down on your chest. Despite the pain, you clung to consciousness, fighting to stay present amidst the overwhelming haze of approaching death. “Don’t take her away from us. Please, Liu Kang, stop this madness! Let the curse stay, we want it back. Give it back—Just stop!’’

Liu Kang didn’t stop. As he lowered the knife for the third time, aiming for your heart, you felt a deep slit open in the cover of the book under your hand. Despite the excruciating pain, a weak smile formed on your face as you realized the curse had finally been lifted. It was over. They were free now. You could feel the pressure of the curse lifting, and you knew they must have felt it too. As blood continued to rise from your throat, flowing relentlessly from your lips like a crimson cascade, Liu Kang hesitated before withdrawing the knife, gently lowering you to the ground. Numbness crept through your body like tendrils of frost, slowly engulfing your senses. The pain, once sharp and all-consuming, now ebbed away like a receding tide, leaving behind a dull ache. As your vision blurred and darkness encroached, you could barely discern the outlines of three figures, their forms wavering like shadows in the fading light.

You tried to talk. To say that it doesn’t hurt, you’re glad that you finally lifted the curse and set them free, to say that you loved them with all of your heart even words cannot describe how you felt for them. But the words tumbled meaninglessly from your lips, your tongue felt too heavy and it became increasingly difficult to breathe.

“Shhh, don’t talk. We will save you, qīn’ài. Everything’s going to be fine.”

You felt a hand on top of your head, the gentle caress tracing soothing circles. It was Kuai Liang, you surmised from the familiar touch. His fingers moved with care, each stroke bringing a fleeting warmth that chased away a fraction of the cold surrounding you. Then, a sudden pressure on your wounds jolted you, eliciting a sharp whimper that escaped your lips.

‘’You foolish, stubborn woman! We won’t let you go, did you hear me? Don’t you dare give up on us now. I’ll make your life hell after the act you pulled.”

Bi-Han’s words echoed in your ears. Despite the harshness of his tone, you detected the underlying concern beneath his façade, acknowledging the conflict in his emotions. Each breath became more labored, and you wished desperately to convey your remorse to them. But deep down, you knew that if faced with the same choice again, you would make it without hesitation. Because your love for them outweighed everything else. Yet, as another cough wracked your body, you realized that words were futile. Numbness enveloped you completely, and the chill in the air seeped into your bones, causing you to shiver uncontrollably. You surrendered to the encroaching darkness, unable to resist its pull.

Your heart beat weakly one last time, then stopped completely.

***

Author’s Note: My apologies for the cliffhanger! But I’ve already started writing the next chapter, so you won’t have to wait too long again unless something important comes up. Also, I’ve decided to turn this into a series, as I have a couple of ideas brewing. If you have any suggestions or ideas, feel free to share them with me on my blog. If I find them interesting or relevant to the story, I’ll incorporate them into it and give you credit.✨

[lemonhemlock]

I think a thing that bothers me the most is how fragmented TG (the fandom) is now. After season one, many of us had issues with character writing, but it still felt like we were largely on the same page. Now, some people can accept Aegon got bad writing but not Aemond, Alicent, or Helaena. They are all “good” or “bad”characters depending on how much they hurt Aegon this season. I’m so glad he got the time to be well rounded, and that TGC delivered on all his scenes, but I think people forget Aegon has received some poor writing as well even this season. His whole outburst about Jaehaerys’s death is not about his son, but the impact on his legacy- I thought this very odd at the time, but realize it’s because they can’t have him mourn Jaehaerys for a long time either. Nobody on TG is allowed to focus on this dead child, least of all his mother! Aegon goes out drinking with his friends next episode 😭 seemingly unconcerned. But somehow only Alicent and Aemond are called out for this, when it is a clear problem that Daemon is more affected by this loss than the greens. It feels like such an uphill battle to even discuss the faction and family anymore.

This is such a good point!

I know I am so contrarian about this rn, but I have had some issues in connecting with Aegon's grief scenes over Jaehaerys this season. And it's such an opinion I DON'T want to have, bc I'm fully on the Aegon/TGC bandwagon and I do think TGC is a competent actor.

But it's something about the general clownery of the framing, how everything is gloomy and dark but at the same time no one gives that much of a shit over Jaehaerys? It's very weird to describe. I know Olivia also shows Alicent crying and swallowing sobs and trying to conceal her grief, but, if you think about it, Alicent is just Kind Of Like That in a lot of her scenes anyway. Big doe wet eyes, filled with regret and unspoken emotions etc so that her acting similarly after B&C kind of doesn't hit as much?

And, in that context, having Aegon rage over this event is rendered kind of.....hammy and, honestly, comical. I'm reminded of the scene of the small council where everyone is somber and quiet and he kind of looks like he's pretending to cry. In other moments it's fine but there are frames where I can't take it seriously and it registers in my brain like a parody.

I realise how I sound right now, like I'm not satisfied with the subdued performances, but I'm not satisfied with the expansive ones either. IDK. I have a huge problem with the framing and direction this season, I think it's a huge impediment in making me enjoy the supposedly emotional scenes.

All of this to say that I agree, Aegon has also received some bad writing this season, especially him ALSO being kind of over Jaehaerys the next episode. But people tend to overlook it, because when you draw the line, the writing for him is still so much better than what he got in S1.

And, yes, this is why I can't really join the choir in blaming Alicent and Aemond for how they act with him, because it's not a naturalistic and organic progression, it's shoehorned in with little buildup or motivation and not even drawn to its natural conclusion. For example, Aemond should have been toast the minute Aegon woke up, because Prince Regent or not, Aegon is still the King and has the power to remove Aemond if he fears him. He doesn't have to justify himself in front of anyone, just give the order to arrest his brother and name someone else as regent, then just go back to sleep.

[theygotlost]

good afternoon here's my big rant on my pet peeves for subtitles in movies and tv

This is a post that I’ve thought about making probably for years now but never got around to. I might add more later if I realize I’ve forgotten any

When it comes down to it, the purpose of subtitles is this: to reflect exactly what the audience can hear, precisely when it can be heard. If you fail to do this, your subtitles are bad and you should feel bad. Although I don’t have concrete examples for most of these off the top of my head, I promise I have experienced them all firsthand at least once.

-> Watch for spelling and typos. Obviously.

-> Syncing issues.

This should go without saying, but the captions should be synced as closely as possible with dialogue and sound effects. Subtitles that are out of sync are worse to me than no subtitles at all. They’re unbearably distracting and I have to turn them off. I’m fortunate enough that I can keep watching without them, so imagine how frustrating this is for someone who needs to keep them on no matter what.

-> Jumping the gun.

This is basically an example of out-of-sync subtitles that are slightly too fast, but it gets its own category because it ruins the viewing experience in its own unique way. In particularly dramatic scenes, actors will often draw out their lines or pause between phrases. Captions sometimes fail to reflect this by displaying the entire sentence all at once, allowing the audience to read what someone is about to say before they actually say it, which deflates all the dramatic tension of the scene.

-> Phantom captions.

This one is less self explanatory, but it’s kind of similar to syncing. Sometimes there will be significant intervals of time between lines of dialogue, especially after a scene ends and a new one begins. The interval may include music, sound effects, or complete silence, but what I’m calling a “phantom” is a caption that stays on the screen after that last line of dialogue is delivered until the next line is spoken. I don’t remember what I was watching, but there was one that was glued to the screen for SEVERAL MINUTES over what was supposed to be an atmospheric break between scenes and it drove me nuts. In my experience this happens more often with older subtitling for DVDs and some old videos and less with modern streaming. 

-> Straight up spoilers.

Sometimes, a character will speak whose true identity has not yet been revealed to the audience. If I’m not supposed to know the character’s name yet, don’t just… tell me right there in the captions whenever they say something. Descriptors like “disembodied voice”, “man”/”woman”, “mysterious figure”, etc. will suffice.

-> Lack of musical descriptors.

It usually helps to describe the genre or emotion of the music that’s playing rather than just writing [music] or 🎵. That being said, if there is a song playing that’s particularly well known in the mainstream, I think it’s useful to actually include the name of the song. This one I do have a concrete example for: in Arrested Development, Gob always blasts The Final Countdown during his acts. But the captions on my DVDs for the show always describe it as [stagy pop]. Like yeah I would say that song is some pretty stagy pop, but I think a lot of the humor comes from knowing that it’s specifically The Final Countdown by Europe because it’s such a perfectly corny selection that Gob would make.

Another musical failure is not transcribing pertinent lyrics. If the song is playing in the background, then that’s understandable and it can be kind of distracting if there’s dialog happening on top of it because the audience isn’t actually meant to be paying close attention to the song. But if the song is front and center, like for a musical number or montage, then the lyrics can be pretty important. Last year when I watched Arcane on Netflix with my family (a recent, high budget production from the biggest streaming platform ever), the show had the nerve to write [man rapping] over a musical sequence. Imagine if all subtitles ever just said [person speaking] for the entire movie.

-> Affectations.

If a character starts using a silly voice or accent, or if the sound of their voice changes in any way, describe that. If the audience can hear the difference, the subtitles should reflect that difference. And they should reflect it informatively and accurately; for example, don’t just say [mock accent], but specify [mock French accent]. 

-> Paraphrasing.

I don’t even know why this is an issue, but it’s alarming how many times the subtitles just… straight up don’t match what the characters are actually saying. It’s like the transcriber was forced to write all the captions from memory, so they kinda sorta say the same thing, but the wording is different and some sentences or phrases are missing. When I brought this up with my mom she theorized that the transcriber was working off the script for the movie because hey, that’s all the dialogue already written down, right? But it completely fails to account for revisions, improvisation, or actors delivering their lines even slightly different than how they were originally written.

And last but certainly not least, one of the biggest offenders in bad subtitling…

-> [Speaks foreign language]

If someone says something in another language, please, for the love of god, do not just write [speaks foreign language]  and call it a day. Specifying the actual language is an improvement, but this descriptor only works if the audience members are truly not meant to know what’s being said (which is sometimes the case). If a character is only saying a single word or phrase in another language, transcribe it. As in, write down the actual words that they said. If you don’t speak that language, find someone who does. You are insane for transcribing a character saying “hola” or “abuela” in an otherwise English sentence as [speaks Spanish] (real examples I saw respectively in Rango and JANE THE VIRGIN. THERE’S SO MUCH SPANISH IN THAT SHOW). 

If the audience is supposed to know what someone is saying in another language, English subtitles will usually be hardcoded. DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, LET THE CAPTION SAYING [SPEAKS FOREIGN LANGUAGE] COVER THESE UP. This is actively impeding understanding, not helping it. Jesus christ

* Please keep in mind that I’m not deaf or hard of hearing and I don’t have auditory processing disorder; I almost always watch movies and tv with subtitles whenever the option is available because it helps me absorb information better. If I don’t even strictly NEED subtitles and these are issues for me, I can only imagine how much more difficult it is for those who rely on them more heavily. I invite you to add your own perspective!!

[slutshamethesquirrels]

Shamesy's Fic Recs

(this post will forever be under construction. you can find my own fics here if you like, or you can munch up anything on this list)

Authors of The Highest Honor:

All of these authors get my umbrella stamp of approval, assume any of their work is good because it IS. This is a rarity from me so trust if they've got my approval their writing is supreme!! I also will not post any authors here that are unkind/rude to their readers, so you can feel comfortable exploring their AU's as needed and feel comfy with commenting and showing them some love!

I will not be diving into any fic reviews from these guys here bc all of their work elicits such emotion from me that i could write a fucking collegiate thesis on why I love them. I'm serious. Read everything they've ever written.

hayakawalove (Ao3) // @hayakawalove

vallification (Ao3) // @vallification

Chaptered Fic Recs:

Dishonorable by loversfleur (Ao3) (Geto x Fem!Reader)

Regency era Geto??? I fuckin- ASHSJHASJAB

Capacity by silkscreams (Ao3) (SatoSugu x Fem!Reader)

I cannot describe to you what this fic has done to me. It's tragic, it's hornknee, its a fucking masterpiece that makes me sob with every chapter im so for real. a must read.

Honesty Corner by mimiquack (Ao3) (SatoSugu)

my brother in christ this fic is a treasure. its sweet, its corny, its horny with just the right amount of angst. the way i would pop my whole shamussy for this version of geto IM-

Stop Me by septembersummer (Ao3) (Gojo x Fem!Reader)

!!! guys please be mindful of tags when reading anything by septembersummer. they are a crazy talented writer but they do like to get kinky and freaky and bed squeaky or w/e chappel roan said that one time !!!

oh god stop me is so fucking fantastic, i have no words. its dark AS HELL and deffo made me cry but y'all need it in your life if you haven't read it yet. septembersummer EATS idc idc call me a horndog

Embrace me tight (till I can't breathe) by Cynical_Bunny (Ao3)(Geto x Fem!Reader)

DONT LOOK AT ME DONT LOOK AT ME DONT LOOK AT ME DONT LOOK AT ME DONT LOOK AT ME DONT LOOK AT ME DONT LOOK AT ME JUST READ THE TAGS AND DO NOT PERCEIVE ME I DONT HAVE TO JUSTIFY ANYTHING TO YALL SHSHSHSHSHSH

The Cult Leader's Quarry by QuinnyUndertow (Ao3) (Geto x Fem!Reader)

another one where you must be careful about tags but quinny is an absolute peach,, one of those authors i followed before i ever talked to and just absolutely fell in love with her beyond her great writing once i did. this ones raw, its horrific, its sexy. a must for our demented sugu lovers.

One Shots / Shorties I can't forget:

Blurred Lines by yasu1234 (Ao3) (Gojo x Fem!Reader)

mmmmmmm this gojo is my favorite gojo. love him. love him irrevocably.

Wisteria and Ciabatta by hayakawalove (Ao3) (Geto x Fem!Reader)

i lied uptheread im so sorry this one deserves a highlight. not HISTORICAL WHIPPED SUGURU?????? hayakawalove is my personal beyonce- just crazy talented and for what

Amen by agent_cupcake (Ao3) (Geto x Fem!Reader)

CULT LEADER GETO! CULT ! LEADER! GETO! kinda kinky tho fair warning

Rub You The Right Way by daisynik (Ao3) (Choso x Fem!Reader)

daisynik has blessed us with the possibility of more chapters for this fic and i screamed when i found out. this is my favorite reader character kind of ever. choso and our mc are fucking DORKS in the best way. we love.

Welcome To The Itadori's! by tonycries (Tumblr)(Choso x Fem!Reader)

i am selective about my choso fics and this one is phenomenal! i love the way he's characterized here!! 10/10

[physalian]

When To Keep Your Writing Stiff (pt 7)

Part 6

Part 1

Gonna shoutout a specific fanfic, “Salvage” (ATLA) for writing that is even leaner than mine is, and mine has zero fat whatsoever. This was really good. I particularly like how some scenes were only 2 or 3 lines long as an example of what I’m going for here.

When I say “stiff” in the following examples I’m specifically talking about a lot of the same syntax, few similes and metaphors, few ‘said’ synonyms, very little, well, “life” in the prose. And this can be good in a few situations.

1. Your narrator is in shock

Shock doesn’t all look the same, but the kind of shock I mean is the one where the person is really quiet and un-emotive, they’re probably not speaking or reacting much to whatever catastrophe just happened and probably not responding to their name or anything spoken to them. Their body is pretty much going “uhhhhhhhhh factory reset!” when whatever it is, is too much to process.

A asks them a question. Once. Twice. B stares ahead. There’s a brown stain on the wall that looks like a thumb.

So if they’re narrating, they’re probably going to be giving the absolute bare minimum, need-to-know information and won’t be thinking about the best adjectives and adverbs. Especially if you normally write with fluffier prose, a jarring shift like this can really help sell the shock and dissociating of the character, something so traumatizing that it effects how the story is told.

2. Your narrator is depressed

Somewhere between New Moon’s 4 pages of just Months to show Bella did absolutely nothing in a depression rot and normal prose (though it was effective, particularly in the movie when they could draw out the words on the screen for longer and did the whole spin-around-her-depression-chair montage).

January came. It rained a lot.

They’ll probably either narrate very thinly, or listlessly. They might focus on a random detail and start going on a long ramble about that one detail that isn’t at all important, but it’s either all they can think about or all that can move them to feel anything in this moment, like:

On the bedside table, that coffee mug still sat there in a thin sheet of dust. What had been liquid now long since dry and gluey. It still sits there, collecting cat fur.

This might be the best place for sentences that all sound and flow exactly the same, but use it sparingly.

3. Your narrator is having a panic attack or trapped in a traumatic situation

Different from shock in that while they are physically capable of moving and interacting, they can’t let themselves describe what they’re seeing and feeling in grand detail. Maybe they’re moving through the horrific aftermath of a battle and all they can describe is the mud under their feet and how it squelches. Or they simply say that “there’s bodies everywhere” because looking too long or too hard at who those bodies belonged to is too much.

4. You’re writing something that has incredibly fast pacing

This post was inspired by a fic I just wrote that spanned about 5 months in about 18k words. Narrative was skipping days ahead between paragraphs at some point as my character was processing the end of an abusive relationship. It sped up and slowed down where necessary, but compared to its sequel that I also just finished (22k words across 7 days), I’d covered a whole month in about 2 sentences in the first one.

See nearly any part of Salvage (or my fics if you feel like it)

What happened in that month didn’t matter, only what was before and what’s different now and how this character realizes how their life is slowly changing, some things they never noticed that are suddenly right in their face or things that quietly slipped away.

—

TLDR; sometimes the lack of emotion and sensory details and frenetic, dynamic syntax is the point, that can sell the reader on the narrator’s mental state far better than picking the juiciest adverbs. If it’s so impactful to them that the physical telling of the story is changed, you’ve done your job.

[the-s1lly-corner]

hi! if you're feeling up to it, may i request tadc cast reuniting with the reader after escaping the digital circus? (not sure if caine would work though, sorry caine fans ;_;) tysm! btw, A+ gif choices :>

Reunited! (TADC cast x reader!)

Except Caine <|3 I kept putting this up because I uh uh

Kinda kept forgetting <\3 I'm so sorry anon 😭😭

This ended up more so being what you guys get up to after reuniting in the real world!

Written on mobile!

POMNI:

Sure she may have wanted to escape the digital world... a lot... but she never thought she would actually escape, and with everyone else too..! So that's nice! Imagine her shock when by pure chance she runs into you. More so shocked than anything, but relieved.. she was so tied up from being free again that she didnt realize how much she missed you.. it feels.. weird holding your real body.. but it's not unwelcome!

JAX:

Honestly the hardest thing for jax is to tone down his whole.. asshole thing, because people in the real world arent trapped in a space. Actually it would be this reason that you almost dont recognize him..! Woah jax not being an ass for once? Thats not your man!!!!!

As for feeling stuff... oh boy I think I mentioned somewhere that hes a clingy shit behind closed doors, or maybe that was a hyper specific request.. but get ready to have to carry this dude around for a few hours

RAGATHA:

I know I mentioned this. a few times but I love the idea of ragatha and her partner opening up a little bakery together. I can see her being into baking plus I think it fits her aesthetic; if she didnt get into Doll making and stuff... ponders... tearful reunion for you two, ragatha cant help but get a little touchy when she realizes it's you.. though she awkwardly pulls away and apologizes for that.. please hold her and dont let go

KINGER:

Its.. nice... I already have two teary reunions in this post.. hmm.. I don't think kinger would cry. The way I can describe it emotion wise is when you find an old trinket from your childhood. Nostalgic, maybe? I think he takes the longest to build himself back up to where you guys were in your relationship.. the trauma (which realistically they all have, however I think so far at least its hit kinger the worst), losing his possible wife (queener/queenie), reconnecting with his kids (I hc he had at least one kid!!), ect ect

You guys are going to have to take it slow, you know? I have a second request with this prompt for kinger so imma go more into that there!

ZOOBLE:

Writing this down first before I forget but you guys open up a body mod shop together. Piercings, tattoos, ect ect ect. Idk zooble just kind of gives off those vibes, and I feel like you guys would do that together. You guys move in a.. longish..while after reuniting in the real world and confirming who you are to one another.. it's not so much as zooble wants to make sure it's really you, its more so zooble needs time to get used to the real world again + they're cagey about their space !

GANGLE:

Another tearful reunion, she cant believe it's really you. She really thought that she would never see you again... but you're here..! Similar to jax, shes going to cling right onto you and not let go.. you guys hand out nearly everyday for the next few weeks while you try to sort things out, perhaps quickly moving in together

[word-wytch]

Don't Stand So Close To Me — Chapter 13

Eddie x Teacher!Reader

Chapter 13/? 8.4k. Series Masterlist

✏︎ Catalyst — an agent that provokes or speeds significant change or action.

✏︎ Series Summary: Forced to move back home to Hawkins after your fiancé cheats on you, you begin to fall in love again with an audacious 20 year old metalhead, only there’s one problem — he’s still in high school and you’re his English teacher.

While you struggle starting over in a place you never thought you would return, Eddie struggles feeling stuck in a place he can’t manage to leave — until you offer to help him. Of all the lessons learned, the most important are the ones you teach each other.

✏︎ Series CW: forbidden romance, slow burn, true love, smut (18+ mdni), internal conflict, student-teacher relationship, 10 year age gap, mutual pining, sexual tension, emotions, drama, angst, character development, happy ending :)

Chapter warnings: angst, drama, implied partner abuse, harm to fantasy creature 

Monday, December 9th 1985

Eddie propped his cheek against his knuckles as he watched you from the back of the classroom, just like he did every day. You were radiant on this one, brimming with excitement as you lectured on your favorite subject.

“We’re still in the planning phase for our short stories, but now that you all have a general idea of what you want to write about, I want you to start putting together an outline,” you prompted.

His eyes traced down the back of your blouse to where it met the waistline of your trousers. His hands still itched to hold you there. Burned was a better word now. He watched your hand scratch words onto the board with a nub of chalk, following the bend and curve of your fingers as they formed letters. 

The past three weeks had been much of the same. You and him, behind the big desk every Monday and Wednesday after school. You; trying to focus on his schoolwork. Him; trying to focus on you. You; letting him get away with it. 

There was plenty of studying happening too. In between studying the curve of your lips, the hue of your laugh, and the bones of your knuckles under his thumb, there were shining moments were something would click and he would solve an equation. Perhaps it was something to do with memory association or whatever textbook word you used to describe the psychology of learning, but something about the way you presented things made it easier for him to absorb. Perhaps it was your gentle patience, or your intuition. Knowing when to press forward and when to back off. Knowing how to show something differently than he’d been taught. Maybe it was just sweeter coming from your lips instead of Ms. O’Donnell’s. 

Eddie shifted in his desk as you clicked the end of your sentence against the board with a flourish. Stretching against the confines of the tiny chair, he hunched over the slab wood barely big enough to fit his notebook, and picked up his own chewed utensil to copy what you’d written. Maybe it was the bulk of his jacket, thicker and warmer with padding for winter, but suddenly he felt claustrophobic.

You whipped around brightly to face the class. “Alright, who remembers what three things inform character action?”

The question was met with restless silence. A cough. A sniffle.

With a defeated sigh, you turned back around to scratch desires, fears, and misbeliefs onto the board.

Glancing out the window at the pale grey sky and naked trees, Eddie counted on his fingers the number of months until there would be leaves on them again. 

Five. 

He just knew it would be an agonizing winter. One that dragged on and on, long after the groundhog saw its shadow. Huffing, he stared down at his beat up spiral notebook, blue lines blurring in his tired vision. The pen went slack in his hand. He closed his eyes and listened to your voice.

“I know these are short stories, but in the end something should have changed internally or interpersonally for your characters as a result of the plot. Remember, the plot is what happens, the story is how it affects the characters,” you said, jotting down the last bit.

It took on a different tone in front of the class. More rigid and professional, louder so it carried to the back of the room. It lacked the warmth and softness that it held when he was next to you. He imagined, for a sweet moment, how it would sound even closer; against the shell of his ear as you breathed a sigh beneath him. The gentle feather of your lips as they traveled south, just below his ear, where his jaw met his neck. In the playground of his mind, he could show you what a man he really was. Here, his hands were free to wander wherever they wanted; dip into the valleys of your clavicles, over the hills of your breasts, around the bend of your waist, the peaks of your hips, the mound of your—

A snicker broke his reverie. When he opened his eyes, Jason’s were already on him. 

“Taking a nap, Munson?” he mouthed mockingly.

Eddie rolled his eyes and seethed as he glared down at his notebook again. He shifted against the back of the hard plastic chair, against the tight cage of the desk. Finding no relief, he huffed and stared blankly ahead at the chalkboard, at the beige concrete wall, at the big desk, and then—at you. The gap had never been more enormous. An ocean of desks, a gaping chasm between where he was and where he wanted to be.

He must have looked downright pitiful, because the look you returned brimmed with a soft concern. In the two seconds he held you, Eddie released a deep sigh. Then you were back to the board.

“L-let’s start by highlighting the main point of each scene,” you said quickly, turning as you cleared your throat. Eddie caught your hand dart behind your neck before it fell promptly to your side. “Basically, why a scene exists and what it needs to accomplish. Does it provide information about the characters or move the story forward? Remember, these are short stories, so we want to make each scene really count.”

Eddie gripped the chewed pen and dutifully copied what you wrote. He knew he could have asked you later, had you explain it all again, given him tips, and pointers, and strategies, even helped him with his outline. But he wanted you to see that he was trying. He wanted you to see that he cared. He was always bad at school. Bad at paying attention. Bad at turning in assignments. Bad at following rules and keeping his mouth shut. 

He wanted to be good for you. 

When the bell rang, chair legs screeched against tile, notebooks crinkled, zippers ripped open and shut in a frenzied cacophony. Eddie hung back until the room filtered out. Until the only person left was you. Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he padded up the long isle of desks until he reached yours. A standard routine.

“Hey,” he said, just like every other day. Just to savor another couple seconds in your presence, alone.

You looked up at him from the mess on your desk as you did countless times before, same tired smile, same soft eyes, same response. “Hey.”

Eddie rocked back and forth on his heels, holding your gaze for a little too long. “I’ll—uh, I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Your face grew bright and warm, a glint of summer against the pale, grey sky. “Yeah, see you later, Eddie.” 

There it was, the thing he really came for — his name. He sighed a smile and gave a single nod, turning slowly toward the door. 

______

By the time he made it to chemistry class, Eddie was ready for a nap. Maybe it was the pizza that sat like a rock in the pit of his stomach. Maybe it was the fact that, yet again, he had stayed up entirely too late, lost in your world. 

But he couldn’t just stop, not when Cybelle was being attacked by a ferocious fenfink — like a weasel, only much larger. Sharper claws, bigger teeth, and fatally attracted to something Cybelle had on her person. They were packing up camp in the morning when it happened. Perhaps it had been drawn to the smell of sweet Myrnish breakfast cakes, or the herbs stuffed inside Cybelle’s mask, or perhaps it was her gold amulet that sparkled in the glow of the fire. In hindsight, they really should have picked up a sword in Fenwood. Not that Lazarus had ever swung one. Not that he would trust himself to when the beast was grappling with the neckline of Cybelle’s coat as she struggled to fling it off her. Too much movement. Too many opportunities to miss. Instead, Lazarus had done the only thing he could manage to do in a panic, which is to grab the animal’s back and try to pry it off. 

The path through the boglands was narrow with small allowance for a camp site. On either side lay deep, murky water spotted with mounds of moss and pale, petrified trees. The fenfink didn’t give up easy. It tore at her silk with its claws, sniffing and growling at her crescent moon mask as Lazarus tugged at its furry body. As Cybelle’s boots threatened stumble back over the berm of the trail and into the wet abyss, Lazarus tugged as hard as he could, but the animal snatched a lifeline; a shiny gold chain that glimmered in the pale blue light of the early morning. 

It bent Cybelle forward at the neck. Time froze as her golden promise, his future, dangled in the space between them. Her hands fumbled at the animal’s rear claws to unlatch them from her abdomen. Eyes desperate, mask askew, Lazarus knew what he had to do. One good yank and the chain would break. She would be free, and he could hurl the beast into the bog to buy them time.  He knew it could be done, in theory. What would become of the treasure, however, would be left entirely to fate. 

In the glittering twinkle, he saw his cottage, his garden, his full size bed, his curtains billowing in the salty air. It swayed and skirted across the taught chain, dangling dangerously close to the edge of the murky water.

With a strangled cry, Cybelle worked the claws free of her dress, and he was left with a split second to decide. The golden tether winked in the fire’s glow. Fear flickered in her umber eyes. With a firm, decided tug, Lazarus broke the chain. Time slowed to a halt as the glimmering treasure launched upward with the force of it all. Cybelle stumbled back over the berm, grasping desperately at the air. It followed the arc that she took, hovering just out of reach. She just about bumped it with her fingertip, but the cold, wet shock at her back knocked the wind out of her.

Lazarus watched his dreams tumble into the water, helpless to stop it. As he grappled with the snarling beast, his eyes caught the last golden glimmer of hope before it plunked beneath the inky surface of the bog. He pivoted quickly, launching the creature in a heartbroken rage, and it flailed in the air before its headfirst collision with a tree scattered the birds for miles.

A wet, sobbing cough from the other side of path sent him scrambling toward it. Cybelle was a mess. Clambering on her knees, waist deep in a peaty, black filth that soaked through her gold coat. Her hands raked desperately, blindly, at the thick decay beneath the murky water. 

Lazarus stumbled over the mossy ledge and into the bog, extending his hand, but she could not meet his eyes.

“I-I can find it,” she choked, sucking what little breath she could muster as the soaked fabric clung to her face. “It-it is somewhere here… I heard it.” 

His heart sunk deeper than the treasure. “Please, Cybelle,” he pleaded. 

“I can find it,” she insisted weakly, and another desperate grasp beneath the water sent her tumbling further down. 

He dove in after her then, sinking deep into the muck to grab her by the waist before she slipped beneath the surface. Cybelle was persistent, twisting in his arms as sobs shook her tiny body. He simply gripped her tighter, drawing her toward his chest and out of the water. Her struggles paled to his strength.

“Please,” she whimpered, stamping his white linen shoulders with muddy hands. “I can—I can…” she could barely catch a breath, silk crescent now crooked and blackened with peat. 

With both arms clasped tightly around her back, Lazarus shushed her. “It’s gone, Cybelle.” He could not hide the mourning in his voice.

She shut her eyes with a defeated grimace and went limp. Tears burned her lash line as she sobbed against his chest. They opened when she felt a finger brush behind her ear. Gingerly, slowly, Lazarus hooked his fingers through the loop of her mask, eyes darting back and forth between hers in a wordless request for permission. Her stillness granted it, and with that, he peeled it away.

In the pale blue light of the early morning, waist deep in muck and mire, Lazarus saw Cybelle. Not for the first time ever, but for the first time like this. Raw, and ragged, and inches apart. She inhaled deeply, freely, and for the first time when she breathed out, there were no barriers between them. They stood there a moment in a captivated stillness with nothing but the hum of frogs and song of birds.

Cybelle was the one to break the silence. “We might as well turn around then,” she wavered bitterly. “I have…” her breath hitched, “nothing to offer you.”

Lazarus sighed, shaking his head as he raked in her soft features. “Your company,” he began, “is enough.”

Cybelle shut her eyes, blinking tears over her lashes to streak trails through her the dirt on her cheeks, and for the first time, her muddy arms drew around his waist, and she embraced him.

Eddie pressed his heated forehead to the cool slate of the lab table and shifted his stool back against the floor with a loud screech. Images of fenfinks, and pendants, and bog mire danced behind his eyelids. He could hear the weary exhaustion in Mr. Westfield’s voice. He didn’t even need to look up to know he was leaning against his desk and running his hand through his thinning hairline as he’d done a hundred times before at the top of sixth period.

“Alright, so today we’re going to be creating magnesium oxide. Magnesium plus oxygen. Get it?” The question was answered with sleepy eyes and a few stray sniffles. Mr. Westfield sighed. “Right. Since the school can’t afford enough bunsen burners for all of you, this week you’ll be splitting up into pairs.”

The room came alive, eyes meeting eyes as claims flew across the room. Eddie peeked over his arms at the table in front of him. Tina was practically falling out of her stool as she reached for Chrissy on the other side of the room with grabby hands. 

Mr. Westfield looked thoroughly unamused by the commotion. “I’ll be assigning them.”

The classroom groaned almost unanimously. 

“Hate to be a party pooper,” he started, his tone indicating quite the opposite, “but you’re here to learn, not to chit-chat. Ok, let’s see here…” Mr. Westfield adjusted his glasses on his nose as he scanned down the list of names in his attendance book. 

A restless silence fell over the room as the students awaited their fate. 

“Looks like we have an even number, excellent. Tina, you’ll be with Bobby.”

Eddie could see Tina’s eyes roll through the back of her head. 

Mr. Westfield peered up from his glasses. “Don’t act so excited. Ok, then we’ll have Ricky and Carmen, Sally and Janae…” he went down the list of names, checking them off and scribbling them on the side of the sheet to keep track.

Eddie sat up and glanced around the room as pairs were made, mentally checking off classmates as their names were called, ears perked and primed to hear his own. As the ones who remained dwindled and dwindled down to only two, his pulse quickened. 

“Ok and then that just leaves Ms. Cunningham,” he punctuated with his pen, “and Mr. Munson.”

Fuck.

Eddie turned his head slowly, reluctantly, toward the other side of the room where Chrissy Cunningham sat, and was met with a soft, coy smile. He swallowed and whipped his head to face forward. 

Un-fucking believable. If there was a God, which Eddie sincerely doubted, he sure had a twisted sense of humor.

Since their brief confrontation in the hallway following Tina’s Halloween party, Chrissy had, to his honest surprise, respected his wishes and kept her distance. It never stopped her from looking though. Stares, he would discover, were something you could feel. Burning into his temple from behind the curtain of his hair in class, heating the back of his neck at his locker as her perfume wafted up the hall. It was almost a daily occurrence. 

As the classroom rearranged itself in a cacophony of screeching stools and shuffling backpacks,  Eddie remained planted right were he was, thumbing at the bent spiral of his notebook, mind racing as his eyes glazed over. It was less than a minute before he smelled that familiar perfume and heard the stool next to him scoot against the floor.

“Hey,” came a voice like powdered sugar. 

Eddie looked up from his notebook with a slow hesitance. “Hey.”

“I…grabbed you some safety glasses and an apron,” she said, setting the items on the counter.

Silently lamenting the idea of spending the remaining hour wearing them, he gave a single nod and thanked her.

The room bustled with chatter as Mr. Westfield came around to dole out the bunsen burners, crucibles, scales, and other small tools. “You got a hair tie, Munson?” he asked.

Eddie patted himself down and feigned disappointment. “Fresh out I’m afraid.” 

“I’ve got one,” Chrissy interjected, rolling a powder blue scrunchie from her wrist to swing from the curve of her finger.

Eddie stared at it a second as it dangled in the space between them before snatching it. “Thanks,” he conceded. As he twisted the satin band around his curls to form a low ponytail, he could feel the heat from her gaze. It lingered as he put on his goggles, even as he tied the ribbons of the stiff apron behind his back. 

Wayne, perceptive as ever, had been right all those years ago outside the auditorium. He did, at eleven, have a crush on Chrissy Cunningham, but there were only so many times a person could ignore him before he got the memo. Before he figured out he wasn’t worth their time. It wasn’t the first time it happened. In fact, Eddie had become so accustomed to getting looked through instead of at that he’d made it a lifestyle to stand out. To talk loud, and dress loud, and play loud. To bite back, and shirk rules, and cause a scene. And over the course of a year he barely remembered, he’d left whatever feelings he might have had for her exactly where they belonged; in the graveyard with everything else he would rather forget.

But for some reason this year was different. He wasn’t sure what switch flipped that caused her to suddenly see him. Maybe it was because she was tired of her meathead boyfriend and needed a distraction. Maybe it was because he looked especially dangerous this year. Maybe it was because he’d been held back so many times that he’d become more forbidden than ever; an odd and tempting fascination. 

Eleven year old Eddie would have been elated. Twenty year old Eddie was, to put it simply, annoyed. 

Mr. Westfield returned to the front of the classroom to give instruction, and Eddie tried his best to follow along with the handout. 

The room sparked to life with the hiss of gas and the whump of it igniting from all corners. As the tall flame dance in front of him, Eddie tried to ignore the little voice in the back of his head that tempted him to dangle the sleeve of his flannel a little too close so he could escape to the nurse’s office. Freshman Eddie wouldn’t have thought twice.

Chrissy turned on the scale between them and set the empty clay crucible on top of it as instructed. She leaned in to record the weight and copied it onto her worksheet. Eddie did the same. According to the worksheet, the next step was to add the magnesium and weigh it again. 

“Make sure the coil isn’t too tight,” advised Mr. Westfield, “you’re gonna want to leave room for air.”

Eddie picked up the clay triangle, doing his best to stay focused on the task, and set it on the metal ring above the flame as demonstrated. 

“I think the ring is too high,” said Chrissy, leaning in to twist the clamp loose enough to lower it. “It’s gotta be like, in the blue part of the flame I think.” Her arm grazed his as she reached into his bubble, and suddenly he was back on that couch, feeling the her phantom fingers on the pins of his vest again, gold halo crooked, lips ghosting cherry alcohol. Eddie shot his gaze forward.

“Ok, now place the crucible in the center of the triangle,” Mr. Westfield instructed.

Eddie grabbed hold of the metal tongs and used them to pinch the pale clay vessel. Chrissy leaned closer as he lowered it to rest above the flame. 

Then they would wait. In the waiting, the classroom grew louder. Tina stood by her stool, arms crossed, eyes cast sideways in annoyance as Mr. Westfield came over to address the lack of flame coming out of her bunsen burner. 

Eddie sat there in tense silence, eyes fixed forward as the flame licked the crucible with its blue heat.

“You know, this definitely beats equations,” Chrissy remarked with a soft chuckle.

He couldn’t really argue with that. Eddie didn’t say that though, instead he just nodded quietly. 

“Say um,” Chrissy thumbed at the gummy eraser of her pencil, “Jason hasn’t given you any trouble, has he?”

Resentment rose up from the graveyard. “Define trouble,” he groused.

Chrissy sighed. “He can be a real asshole sometimes,” she admitted, to his surprise.

Eddie took a deep breath. It was vivid — the way she stumbled off that couch. How she nearly tripped over her own shoes. How Jason barked at her. The crazed look in his eyes. The fear in hers. “Sometimes?” he bit back.

Chrissy toyed at the hem of her skirt. “He’s not all bad.”

He wasn’t sure if it was the inflection of her voice, or the way her eyes cast down in shameful denial, but it transported him — all the way back to that small kitchen table, feet dangling from the chair as the red wax in his hand filled in the flame from a dragon’s mouth. He could see his mother in the kitchen doorway, her finger coiled tightly around the telephone cord, uttering the same words to a concerned voice on the other end. 

Eddie hardened his lips and shook his head bitterly. “Yeah, well, doesn’t make him good.” 

“Alright folks, listen up,” Mr. Westfield called out, drawing the attention of the class. “Next you’ll add the oxygen by lifting the lid to let some air in.”  

With a sudden, determined movement, Chrissy reached across him to grab the tongs, bracing herself against the slate table. She gave them a few clicks before pinching the handle to lift the small, clay lid. A reaction occurred; blinding and white, igniting the gap between crucible and lid in a flickering flare.

They jumped back in unison. 

“Try not to stare,” advised Mr. Westfield with monotone enthusiasm. “You could damage your eyes.”

Timely advice. Eddie blinked the white dots that clung to his vision away, and a smile caught him by surprise, betraying his steely resolve. 

Chrissy caught it, and her sea green eyes found his from across the bunsen burner as she lowered the lid again. “That was awesome,” she whispered wildly.

It was kind of cool, he had to admit. He would take playing with fire over staring numbly at numbers on a page any day. Eddie peered over the rim of his plastic safety glasses and offered a tentative smile. 

The heating continued, allowing for air every once in a while until finally there was no more reaction. There wasn’t much to say. Eddie removed the crucible from the burner. Chrissy added water from the pipette until the contents formed a paste. Eddie returned the crucible to the heat. The water evaporated. In the silence of their cooperation, in the passing of tools and scribbling of notes, Eddie wondered how long it would be before Chrissy came to her own conclusions. If she would ever figure out that even though Jason wasn’t all bad, she could do so much better. 

Not with him, but on her own.

Clutching the crucible in the tongs, Chrissy set it on the scale for the final time. They both copied the weight onto their worksheets — different than when they started.

With five minutes to the bell, the cleanup was frenzied; a clammer of equipment hastily returned to shelves and boxes backdropped against the hissing water of half a dozen sinks. Even Mr. Westfield had given up on volume control in favor of tidiness. Eddie rid himself of the dreaded apron and goggles just in time for the bell to ring, and with that he snatched his backpack from the floor and followed the flow of his classmates out the door. 

It wasn’t until he made it to the hallway that he remembered. Reaching back behind his neck, he felt it; ruffled satin. The owner was only a few feet ahead, ponytail swaying in ruffled white cotton as she walked. 

“Chrissy!” 

Her footsteps slowed, eyes brimming with a coy mischief that shot dread down his spine when turned against traffic to face him.

______

“Outlines are due on Friday,” you called to your class as you wiped down the board, a cloud of chalk dusted the air as you swiped the soft eraser over the letters. Like the wave of a magic wand, the bell had turned your practically snoring class into an eruption of noise. Before you could hear a pin drop, now you had to shout. With two periods left in the day, you wondered how many more times you would answer the same question. How many more times you would ask one only to be met with coughs and tired eyes.

Your feet hurt. Even the boots you had chosen for comfort and practicality were causing an ache in the soles of them, the hard heel putting too much pressure on your own. The lukewarm coffee you’d savored during fifth period had long since run its course through you. Glancing up at the clock, you realized you had about five minutes to take care of business or be forced to suffer for the duration of seventh period as well. Setting down the eraser, the decision was easy.

Your tired feet clicked down the crowded hallway with a sense of urgency that seemed to evade the rest of traffic. Scent pockets of perfume, mint gum, cigarettes, and body odors wafted through the air as you hurried past the rows of slamming lockers, dodging a pair of students overcome with the temptation to roughhouse, one grabbing the other by the backpack and yanking, sprinting ahead so his friend couldn’t catch him. You sighed, voice too tired to conjure discipline. 

As you picked up on that strange, familiar scent of the approaching science lab, your eyes, like a magnet, were drawn to a familiar silhouette, standing just outside the door. You would have recognized him anywhere, picked him out of a crowd of thousands. Flutters bloomed in your chest. His long, dark curls bounced as he shook them out with his hand, like he was scratching the back of his head. 

It was enchanting; the way he did just about anything. The way he moved, his sharp elbows and quick hands, the bright timbre of his voice, how his energy could shift on a dime from a soft breeze to a ripping gust. 

The past three weeks had been much of the same. Conversations that strayed from educational to casual. Lingering glances. Secret touches. Stolen moments. Never speaking the truth of your heart. Never offering more than your hand. 

The flow of students swept you forward, and as you passed, a figure emerged from behind where his shoulders obscured. In the seconds that slowed to a crawl, your eyes gathered volumes. 

Strawberry blonde, petite, clutching a book to her soft, white cardigan. Sparkling eyes under soft blue shadow, cocked head, fluttering lashes, a smile bright enough to draw a moth.

Craning your neck back as traffic surged, you searched for his eyes.

Eddie didn’t see you.

You blinked, hard, and snapped your gaze forward over the sea of students as your heart leapt into your throat. 

It was fine. 

Click.

It was nothing.

Click.

He’s allowed to talk to people. 

Click.

He didn’t see you.

Click.

Of course not, it’s crowded.

Click.

It burned, like the image was seared into your retinas. Her clean, white sneaker coyly toeing at the tile. Teeth that teased at plump, pink lips. Heavy lidded eyes. Arched back. Delicate fingers curled around a textbook spine. You tried to blink it away.

It was fine. It was nothing.

You rounded the corner for the faculty bathroom, relieved to find it empty, and shut yourself inside. The tried old light bathed the room in a yellow wash. You locked the door and stood there for a moment, heart racing, chest heaving in the quiet reprieve from the bells, lockers, and voices. Space for your thoughts to grow louder as you went about your business.

Why shouldn’t he talk to some girl? There was nothing wrong with that. In the glimpse that you caught of his face, it was lacking in distinct expression. Listening. Nothing worth noting. It was hers that really stuck with you. Her rosy cheeks and perky ponytail. The way she batted her eyes and licked her lips like she wanted to make a meal out of him.

Eddie Munson; summer wind. Tall and roguish, charming and animated, full of surprises. It was shocking he was single. Downright unbelievable that no other woman in this entire school would harbor any feelings. There had to be at least a handful that cast shy gazes as they passed him in the hallway. At least a few that floated curious whispers across lunch tables. In the dark corners of your imagination you had always figured, you’d just never seen it. And now the image wouldn’t leave you. Sticky. Clinging like you’d stepped in gum. 

You met your tired eyes in the mirror above the sink. Timeless, it mocked, as the whisper of lines became canyons. 

On the other side of the door was sea of young women. Free to talk and gawk and get into the sort of trouble he surely had a taste for. The kind of trouble you only had the freedom to imagine. How long before the novelty of you wore off? Before his restless hands sought something more? Something he could grasp in broad daylight? Someone who could keep his stride, share a milkshake or a bucket of popcorn?

You cast your welling eyes downward, turned on the water, wet your hands, and pumped the soap.

It started subtle, last spring. Started with the way he looked at you; a flame that dimmed to embers over months of dinners spent alone, plates gone cold, beds left empty, leaving you with nothing but to wonder how he looked at her. 

Time moves quickly for young men. You of all people would know it. Like a wildfire; hungry and insatiable, devouring everything in its path. It renders promises of meaning, leaves the past in charred remains. It surges ever forward, seeking fuel. 

It left behind an ice in you. Stalling over the sink as the world surged on outside, you felt it seize your chest again.

Eddie Munson; wildfire. Twenty years old. Restless. Reckless. He wasn’t your boyfriend. You weren’t an item. You were nothing.

The water was scalding. Bubbles erupted as you worked up a lather. Scrubbing your knuckles, your palms, the space between your fingers where his had nestled once. 

No. You weren’t nothing. 

The bell had you flinching; a loud and shrill summons back to your post, your place, your duty. 

You were his teacher.

Pinballs. Louder than the shrieking bell. Louder than ever before. You didn’t dare meet your eyes again, frightened of what sort of monster would stare back.

What am I doing? 

You turned off the water and paused, hands weeping over the sink. 

It was foolish, to play with fire. It was foolish just about anywhere, but here the walls were made of tinder, the desks of charcoal. His fingers like matches, striking you with every touch. But oh, how you craved the heat. Close enough to thaw you; the ice deep in your chest, weeping as it melted, pooling in your lap, making puddles on the floor.

Droplets fell to the tile as you turned to grab a paper towel. It soaked through, blooming dark, wet patches as the brown paper blotted up the dampness.

You shook your head bitterly. No. You certainly weren’t nothing. You were a phase. A passing fancy. An odd fascination. You would never make it to May. You’d be lucky if you made it to January without losing his interest entirely.

You crumpled the soggy paper in your fists and threw it in the trash. Blinking back tears, you pressed your hand to the door and took one deep, final breath as you prepared to face the world again — to put on your mask and perform in front of twenty pairs of judging eyes.

The gap was enormous. Cavernous and treacherous. He deserved someone he could be with in public. Someone he could take to a park or a movie. Someone he could go to fucking prom with. 

With a ragged exhale, you pressed open the door.  

He deserved someone his own age. 

The hall was a flurry of slamming lockers, a scattering of the few straggling students who rushed to find their classrooms. The wind cooled your heated face as you marched, one foot in front of the other, to your post. Shoulders back, deep breaths, sore feet making echos off the polished tile. 

He’d get tired of you too.

Click.

Click.

They always do.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Click.

The hall stretched on like an Escher drawing, twisting and distorting in your vision as you neared your classroom door. Tears threatened your lashes, and you huffed them away with a determined shrug of your shoulders.

As your fingers grazed the cold metal handle, you caught your own eyes in the glass. Sad and droopy, welling with longing and resentment. On the other side you could already hear the commotion, the questions, the stares, the awkward silence. The bell rang again — a final warning. 

With a heavy sigh, you turned the handle.

______

Eddie twisted the ridged dial of his locker in his fingers, left and right until he heard a click. Popping the door open and slinging his backpack forward on his shoulder, he unloaded three weighty textbooks into the dark, cluttered enclosure. He grabbed his thick, leather coat, tucked it under his arm, and slammed the door shut. 

In the absence of the books, and of the dimming noise as it filtered out through the front doors and into the parking lot, he felt another weight lift in him. In a matter of minutes, the mindless chatter, the tried scenery of this dull prison, the days worth of stares that clung to him like glue would fall away as he passed the threshold of your door. 

With every step he took, Eddie felt lighter. The slamming lockers didn’t phase him, the weird looks from freshmen went right through him, even the shoulder check from a jock coming around the corner glanced right off. In a million years he never would have expected to feel relieved to stay after school, or a pep in his step as he approached a classroom, but in a million years he never expected to find you behind the big desk. 

He could feel the warmth already as he approached your open door. Hear your laughter at his stupid jokes, feel the heat of your arm graze his, catch your hand, and you, by surprise. But when he turned into threshold, knuckles raising out of habit to rap against it, he was met with a different scene.

You didn’t look up. Not even when tapped his knuckles to the wood in a shave-and-a-haircut—two-bits pattern. Head cast down over a sea of papers, you looked like you were drowning. He padded slowly toward the big desk, face dropping as he noticed another detail: the wooden folding chair—his chair—sat empty and open. Across from you.

Eddie dropped his backpack to the floor with a heavy thump, making his presence known. “Hey,” he started, tentative and cautious. 

It wasn’t until he was practically towering over you that you finally looked up at him, face heavy, expressionless, tired. “Hey,” you stated plainly.

Eddie craned his head and searched your eyes. “You ok?”

You blinked and swallowed. “Yeah, everything’s fine.” 

He stood like this a moment, vision locked with yours, dark eyes roving, searching. When you offered nothing more, he simply nodded once, strolled around to the front of your desk, grabbed the back of the chair with a determined slap, and dragged it around to where it belonged — beside you. 

He took his place in it; draping his coat over the back of it like always, creaking the wood with his weight as he plunked himself down.

You resumed wading through the sea, heavy gaze cast over it. 

Eddie toyed with a pencil on your desk, tapping the eraser to the wood as his eyes bored a hole into the side of your head. You just kept on roving, shoulders tense, lips worried. He could have been invisible, watching you from a hole in a poster, or a crack in the wall. You offered him the same level of attention. “Something’s wrong,” he confronted, unable to take the frigid silence for a moment longer.

You sighed and set your pen down. “I’m sorry, it’s just…” your hand worried the back of your neck, “…a lot, this time of year, work wise.” Your eyes met his only for a second before casting downward again at the pages. “Here, let me clear this up.” Your hands busied themselves with the mess, shuffling the paper into a clumsy, hurried pile.

“No—no, it’s…it’s ok.” He scooted his chair closer, feeling so useless all of a sudden, burdensome, like his presence added to your task load. He wanted to help, to alleviate the tension, but his hands simply fumbled in his lap as you collected the clutter with your chalk dusted knuckles. As you tapped the pile of papers against the desk in haste to form a semblance of a pile, his hand gained a mind of its own. 

As if possessed by its own separate consciousness, an impulse deep and thrumming with the need to soothe, it took up refuge in the place between your shoulders; warm and firm, drawing slow, caring circles at your blouse. 

You froze, papers stiff against the surface, gaze straight ahead. His hand followed suit, freezing, twitching, arm locked in its extension.

“Y-you should—” you stuttered, blinking wildly as you found your breath. “Why don’t you go grab your schoolwork?” you asked with a curtness that startled him.

Eddie lurched his hand away like you were a hot stove. “I—I’m sorry I just… w-wanted to help. I’m sorry.” His mind became a whirlpool, swirling with worry as his stomach did backflips. He fumbled with the zipper on his backpack.

“No—no, Eddie, I’m… I’m sorry,” you lamented. 

He’d never seen your face so fraught. Like you’d stepped on a cat’s tail, chased it through the house with apologies. 

“It’s not your fault, it’s…” You swallowed, breaking his gaze. You couldn’t finish the sentence. You didn’t need to. 

Mine.

He was losing you. 

He should have expected it by now. What could he possibly offer you anyway? His hand? A few stolen moments? Some flirty comments to make you feel good about yourself for a second or two? 

He wondered when the other shoe would drop. When you would open your eyes and see this for what it really was — that you were a grown ass woman with a college degree and a real career, and he was twenty years old repeating his senior year of high school for the third fucking time, selling drugs to teenagers, and oh, your student for fuck’s sake. 

It wasn’t lost on him; that he was playing tee-ball in a big league stadium. He stared into the crumpled contents of his backpack with a deep, shaking breath, and pulled out his notebook. It fell from his hand with a dejected slap against the big desk; juvenile amidst the tidy assortment of office supplies. The spiral was bent and crumpled, the cover worn soft from abuse. He sat there a moment and stared at it as the heavy silence swallowed you both. 

Your lips hardened to a bitter line, eyes cast down over the evidence of your position. Over the evidence of his. You wouldn’t look at him, like you were afraid to. Finally, after a suffocating minute, you spoke — frigidly professional. “What do you want to work on today?” 

The question sent a hot rage coursing through him. So that was it, then? Business as usual? Pretending like nothing happened? That none of this was real? Eddie sat back in his seat and boiled with a gaze so intense it could have burned right through you. He wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of an answer. Not until you gave him enough respect to look him in the eyes when you asked the question.

You just sat there, frozen, shoulders locked, eyes cast down at the big desk for an agonizing moment that stretched well past the point of comfort. His gaze was unrelenting, fueled by stubborn indignation. You felt it. He knew you did, because when you finally did submit your eyes to him, you flinched. 

He almost felt bad for it. For causing you to shrink so small, to look so fragile, like how you did when you’d relinquished a fragment of your past, when the impulse to soothe you drove him to your hand. The impulse rose again, as did some annoyance by it; the grip you had on him, even in his most determined anger. 

“What?” you choked out, barely above a whisper.

You knew damn well what. The audacity to ask sent heat coursing through his veins again, but the look in your eyes, like cornered prey, quelled the fire enough to sigh his way to a level-headed response. “You’re acting different,” he said simply. 

You swallowed, breaking his gaze like you’d been caught. It would be insulting to deny it. He could see the gears turning over in your head, the thoughts forming careful words behind your eyes, but in the end, all you could muster was, “I’m sorry.” 

It was a weak admission. It answered nothing, really, other than confirming his suspicions. But it was something. He wanted to press, to poke, to pry, and get to the bottom of what caused this shift in you, but in the silence of the classroom, with floors that echoed and walls that listened, words like “you won’t let me touch you,” seemed too far too direct, far too pointed. In the end, it was your eyes that said the most; welling like pools with all the words he knew would pierce the ever thinning veil, poke holes in your shared secrets, make them monstrous and real.

In the end, your eyes just tugged him forward, made him soft and pliant until all he could muster was decency. “It’s…” he sighed, raking his hand through his hair, “it’s fine.” Soft as he intended it, he couldn’t hide the broken edge.

There was little relief in sigh you gave, heavy and ragged. Your fingers grazed the curled, beaten corner of his notebook with a caring reverence that made him wish that he was paper. 

He wondered how much longer it could go on like this, before you craved something more than he could offer. Before you tired of secret touches and passing glances. Before some hot-shot with a convertible saw you at a bar somewhere and swept you away. The crushing realization hung heavy in the space between you, the gap more cavernous than ever.

Eddie twisted his rings in his lap, fingers burning. It was a miracle you’d let him touch you to begin with. But you did, and he had, and by god, he refused to go back. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t. Not when you’d let him into your world, given him more than he ever thought possible — a sliver of hope. For you. For himself.

When the silence became too much for him to bear, he broke it with your name.

Your first name.

Bitter grief melted to soft shock as your lips parted, eyes widened. At last, he had your full attention. 

With a deep breath, he started. “I don’t… know what happened. If it’s something I did o-or something someone said, or, fuck,” he ran hand through his hair, exasperated, words trailing off into nothing. 

“Eddie,” you started, eyes softening deeper; into sympathy, into pity. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why won’t you look at me?” he snapped, but the quiver in his voice betrayed him. 

You swallowed, shaking your head, but before you could give an answer he didn’t want to hear, he continued.

“I know, it—it’s ludicrous, this whole thing. To think that I—” he breathed a bitter laugh, “that you,” he glanced at the door. 

But instead of shutting him down with the ugly truth, you leaned closer, like your whole world hinged on him. He saw it then, hope, glimmering like a golden treasure in the tremble of your lips, in the pinching of your brow, in the welling of your eyes that threatened to spill over.

“I know,” you whispered, like it caused you pain. 

Slowly, Eddie raised his hand to rest on top of his notebook, a fractional distance from yours. Close enough to feel your heat, to catch the subtle tremble of your knuckles. So transfixed by the curve of your delicate fingers beside the broad, ruddy angles of his, that had he not dared to draw his eyes away, he might have missed the tear that pinched through your lashes when you closed them.

Slowly, bravely, he inched his pinky forward. Just close enough to graze yours. It was a phantom of a touch, but you didn’t pull away. In fact, when he looked up, he was surprised to see a whisper of a smile. A sad, soft thing, like it was breaking through layers to surface. Emboldened, he raised his pinky, ever so slightly, to gently stroke yours. The gesture was small and silly, but enough to earn a puff of laughter through the smile that cracked the gloom upon your features.

It opened up a narrow passage, and he entered with the boldest thing that he had ever said.

Maybe it was the fact that he was too stubborn, or perhaps too stupid for his own good, but the sheer audacity of what came out of his mouth next surprised even himself. “Um, my band is playing at the Hideout tomorrow—a-and—” he swallowed, gaining composure as he raised his eyes to your level with conviction. “I want you to come.” 

It was all he could offer. An experience. 

Your jaw dropped. 

“I think—I-Iwant you to see some of the new stuff we’ve been working on. I think you’d like it,” he peddled on.

“Oh, Eddie I—” you shook your head. “I don’t know, I mean—”

He doubled down, brows level and serious. “We—we don’t have to come together. Hell, bring a friend, bring several. It doesn’t have to be a big deal if we don’t make it a big deal. People go to bars all the time.”

As you worried your lips in your teeth, he could see the scales tipping back and forth, weighing the odds and risks against the want. “Oh god, I don’t know.”

“You’re allowed to exist in public. You don’t just like… fold your arms and retreat into the walls here at night,” he laughed.

It snapped a chuckle out of you, like sunlight peeking through the clouds. “Oh yeah? Tell that to the students I run into at the grocery store,” you quipped. Then, as quickly as the sunlight came, the clouds were back. You surveyed the room and dropped your eyes in pensive worry. 

Eddie stroked his pinky over yours, slowly, sweetly. “Please?”

You gave him a look, one that threatened resistance but hiding just beneath it, surrender.

“It doesn’t have to be a big deal,” he persuaded, “just me on stage, and you in the audience cheering with your girlfriends or whatever, well, hopefully cheering. I mean ‘Hand of Doom’ is still a crapshoot sometimes but,” he breathed a laugh. 

With a chuckling shake of your head, your resolve crumbled like sand in front of his eyes. 

“You can boo us too, wouldn’t be the first time. We’ve got tough skin.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed. “I’m not gonna boo you.”

A wicked grin cracked like lightning across his face. “Not gonna, you mean you’ll come then?” 

You sighed, deep and heavy, shifting the scales back and forth.

Eddie tipped his head and raised his eyebrows. “You know you want to.”

“Of course I want to,” you deadpanned.

His umber eyes glimmered, wild and auspicious. “Well then, do what you want,” he said, sitting back in his seat like the decision was easy.

Want. A shelved, forgotten thing, like something you’d lost in the move. Something you’d tucked away long before that. Left to grow stale inside a box, in the back of a closet, in a place you barely remembered. 

It sat beside you now, loud and unignorable, with lips that begged and eyes that pleaded. And you, in all your years of practiced discipline, could no longer deny it. 

Eddie Munson; wildfire. Restless, frenetic, warm, and compelling. 

With a dignified sigh, and a verdant conviction that peeked through the ash, you turned to him at last, and surrendered.

______

A/N: So begins the craziest week in the whole story. Two words: Donkey Kong. 😈

The next chapter might take me a little longer than usual just because it's a moment we've all been waiting for and I want to make sure it's absolutely perfect.

Also, I've been featured on a PODCAST so if you want to hear me talk about this story and specifically the appeal of reader insert fics, check it out HERE!

✨ As always, nothing encourages me to continue writing this story more than hearing from you. Seriously, please give me your thoughts, your theories, your keyboard smashes. Hit up my inbox, my DMs, whatever suits your fancy.

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