#just in case anyone wants to find my edits

[banana-pancake5]

All my Edits!

Pillow War

Doctor (L.O.V.E.)

Mr. Blue Sky (L.O.V.E.)

I Lied I’m Dying Inside (CAS)

Home (CAS)

Love Like You (CAS)

Time and I (CAS)

Pompeii (CAS)

The Angel of Death came to David’s Room (CAS)

Flight of the Crows (TNV)

Edits for Rottmnt show/movie and 863 are on my YouTube!

[piningpercussionist]

Okay. Fellas. Real talk. I've seen some of you do it and I thank you profusely for doing so but can yall PLEASE credit the original artist of that piece yall kinda made into an a dtiys/art meme? That's not official art. I am point blank refusing to engage with any of these pieces that I see not doing such. (Even when it pains me to keep scrolling, because some of them are really good!! And I want them here!!! But I do have some rules for myself I try to stand firm by with this blog.)

Like you can literally see them say right there that it's fine IF YOU CREDIT. I'm fucking begging you.

I'm not mad at anyone who didn't know but I've seen SO MANY versions at this point, and I think I've seen maybe 3 or 4 of them RECENTLY include the credit. (And one with improper credit, I think?) Please. Please just. Tack it on.

[dreamsteddie]

There is an AITA out there that I can't find but it's been haunting me for weeks with visions of semi-angsty Steddie that I need to release onto the world. (If anyone happens to know what I'm talking about hit me up and I'll link it)

Edit: @jazzathebunny found the original AITA from Reddit linked Here for anyone who wants to read it. I'm definitely not doing exactly the same premise but this was my jumping off point 😊

Part Two! ------

Modern AU, Eddie and the guys are a moderately successful local band in the Chicago area playing gigs on the weekends and doing small tours whenever they all have the time. Gareth and Jeff are both in college while Eddie and Freak are both working part-time at a game store. Eddie managed to lock down that assistant manager position that lets him work 30 hours a week with weekends off for gigs. All in all, it's a pretty sweet deal and they can't complain.

Eddie had sworn off dating after a small handful of disastrous relationship attempts in their first year in the city. He dismisses any advances from people who attend their shows and tries not to think about how much he wants to make a genuine connection with someone and have something real. He's been burned one too many times to try and make something with someone he met in a bar or at work.

He knows the guys talk about it behind his back sometimes, he catches Jeff and Gareth fervently whispering to each other and stopping when they catch him entering the room one time too many to not suspect they're talking about him and he can't think of anything else going on in his life that they would feel the need to whisper about.

The fervent conversations take a slight uptick one day and about a week and a half after they do, Gareth hits him up and tells him he wants to set Eddie up with a guy from one of his classes. At first, Eddie is skeptical and cites all the reasons why he doesn't want to try with anyone right now but eventually, Jeff jumps in to plea the case and Freak jumps in on top of that and under the combined weight of his best friends he agrees to meet up with this Steve guy.

The guys set up the whole thing and before Eddie knows it it's Saturday night and he's wearing his best black jeans and a gray button-down, untucked, to go on an honest to God blind date like his life is some low-budget romcom.

Steve is not at all what Eddie thought he would be. Not the kind of guy he thought his friends would pick out for him given they know he usually goes for other alternatives like himself. Steve, who is shyly waving him over and getting out of his seat to great him, is the very epitome of prep. Well-fitted polo, light blue chinos, and what Eddie assumes this guy thinks are casual loafers. He's handsome to be sure, a 12/10 at least with perfect hair and defined biceps but Eddie is fairly sure he's being punked.

But, Eddie doesn't want to be rude so he goes to meet Steve at the table, confirming just in case that he's actually here to meet with a guy named Eddie. Steve gives him a bit of a confused look, saying that Gareth showed him a couple pictures of Eddie before he agreed to meet and figured he'd done the same for Eddie off Steve's Instagram. Gareth had, in fact, not done anything of the sort but they both dismiss it and get on with their date.

In all honesty, Eddie is expecting it to be a complete wash, but it turns out that even if Steve is not at all what Eddie would have previously said what his type, Steve is damn near perfect. He's funny, kind, a little bitchy, and even though he proves himself to be every bit the sports nerd he looks like he doesn't turn his nose up at Eddie's own much more classically nerdy interests. By the end of the date, Eddie has a new type and that type is Steve Harrington. He's quick to lock down a second date for the next weekend which Steve happily agrees to. They exchange numbers and Steve gives Eddie a chaste kiss on the cheek that has him floating all the way home.

Steve texted him that next morning letting him now he had a great time and is really looking forward to their next date and Eddie thinks this might be the start of something big for him. When he gets to practice he's clearly still floating on cloud nine and in his own little world designing their marriage invitations and matching tombstones so he doesn't notice the sly grins on his bandmates' faces.

"So...how'd it go last night? Everything you dreamed it would be?" Gareth asks, a strange glint in his eyes that Eddie doesn't clock.

Eddie goes on and on about how nice Steve was and how he might be The One, thanking Gareth profusely. Freak looks pleased for him, giving him a hard pat on the shoulder in congratulations but when Eddie finally tunes back into the real world he's greeted by Gareth's livid expression and Jeff's overly concerned one.

He asks the guys what the fuck is up and it turns out that Gareth and Jeff set this whole thing up as a prank of sorts. Eddie was never supposed to hit it off with Steve who Gareth selected specifically because he's a "totally brain-dead prep" and as far away as someone could get from Eddie's previous relationships. He was supposed to be someone Eddie could go on a date with and not form a connection with without getting completely burned at the end like all his previous relationships in the hopes of getting him out of his slump.

Jeff was in on it as well. He wanted to get Eddie back out there, so when Gareth presented the plan he sat in on a couple of Gareth's general credit business class sessions to help pick the guy out.

After Jeff and Gareth finish explaining he does a complete 180 and just...leaves. In any other situation, he would be raging and verbally tearing his friends a new asshole but instead, he completely disengages and walks out the garage door, ignoring his friends' shouts to come back.

He goes back home, socked and hurt and so very confused about how the hell he found himself in this position when his phone lights up.

New Message: Steve H.

Fuck.

-------

Part two coming soon??? Maybe???? We'll see.

[everythingisliminal]

I did it. I called my parents, told them they need to use they/them for me for us to have a healthy relationship, and it worked.

My dad said his love for me is unconditional and he's invested in getting this right. My mom asked in a strained tone how this affects my relationship with my husband, how she's supposed to refer to me with people in her life, etc. (best case scenario given how abysmal this convo went with her a year ago). And we ended it all with our life updates and "I love you"s.

Since it took a lot of research to find articles more suited to adult children coming out as trans/nonbinary, here's the list of (primarily non-aggressive) resources on terms and mindset I texted them in case they can help anyone else:

Itchy sweaters: An ally’s guide to understanding late-in-life pronoun and gender changes (new pronouns = softer sweater metaphor)

Your adult child just came out as non-binary. Now what? (terminology)

The Wonderful World of Gender: What It Means to Be Nonbinary (terminology)

What Does It Mean to Misgender Someone? (terminology)

8 Things I’ve Learned Parenting a Non-Binary Kid That Might Help You (acknowledges parent's emotional response)

Edit:

OMG Y'ALL MY MOM JUST TEXTED THIS

"I know I was quiet in today's conversation but you are my child and I love you and support you. I want nothing but happiness and a healthy life for you!!!😉😀"

[misaerabl]

Rock My World

MINORS AND MEN DNI / Word Count: 3.5k

SUMMARY: After a grueling concert, Vi, a tired but popular rock guitarist, and vocalist, retreats to her hotel room seeking solitude. Her plans are interrupted by a knock at the door, where she finds you—a mysterious stranger draped in a long fur coat and boots. Initially assuming you're a groupie, Vi learns you were sent by her drummer to help her "de-stress."

WARNINGS: oral sex (vi receiving), riding a strap, prostitution (?), short-lived bottom Vi, THIS IS ACTUALLY NASTY 

A/N: sorry guys, I got a bit lazy with the cover pics lol I might replace them soon (I don’t have time to edit rn) Also, my first Vi fic! (This might be the filthiest thing I’ve made)

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆ 

The roar of the crowd still buzzed in Vi's ears as she staggered into her hotel room, the adrenaline that had carried her through the encore now fading into bone-deep exhaustion. The stadium had been electric tonight—screaming fans, pounding drums, the lights casting their shadowed silhouettes across the stage like gods. It was the kind of night that should’ve left her floating, but all she wanted now was to crash.

Her guitar case thudded onto the couch as she kicked the door shut with the heel of her boot. She tugged her jacket off and let it fall to the floor, too tired to care. Grabbing a bottle of water from the minibar, she unscrewed the cap and downed half of it in one go before collapsing onto the edge of the bed.

The bedspread was crisp and uninviting, another impersonal feature of the chain hotels they’d been hopping between during the tour. She let herself sink into the mattress for a moment, leaning back on her palms as she stared at the ceiling, counting the hairline cracks in the plaster.

Then came the knock.

Three sharp raps, cutting through the quiet like a drumbeat. Her brows furrowed as she sat upright. She wasn’t expecting anyone, and the rest of the band had their own rooms. Maybe it was management with some last-minute schedule update—or worse, a fan who’d somehow managed to charm their way past security.

Dragging herself to her feet, Vi padded to the door, her steps heavy with reluctance. She cracked it open, intending to tell whoever it was to come back tomorrow.

Instead, she found you.

You stood there in a long fur coat, the kind that swished when you moved, and boots that clicked against the polished hallway floor. Your hair fell around your shoulders, catching the low hotel lighting, and you were wearing a smile that hovered somewhere between coy and self-assured.

For a moment, Vi just blinked, her tired brain struggling to process who—or what—she was looking at. You didn’t look like staff, and you definitely didn’t look like someone who belonged in a place like this.

“Uh…” she started, her voice hoarse from the set. “Can I help you?”

Your smile deepened, a flicker of amusement in your eyes. “Depends,” you said smoothly. “Can I come in?”

Vi’s brow arched, and she leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms. This is new. She scanned you from head to toe, noting the confident tilt of your chin, the way you didn’t flinch under her scrutiny. Still, she’d seen enough to jump to the obvious conclusion. The coat, the boots, the audacity—it all screamed groupie.

“Look,” she began, voice low and tired. “I don’t know how you found my room, but I’m really not in the mood for—”

“Relax, Rockstar,” you interrupted, holding up a hand. “I’m not some random fan.”

That caught her off guard. Her arms dropped to her sides, and her confusion only deepened as you gestured casually over your shoulder.

“Your drummer sent me,” you explained, your voice calm, like this was the most normal thing in the world.

Vi blinked, her brain short-circuiting for a second. “Wait, what?”

You stepped forward before she could stop you, brushing past her into the room. She turned to follow you, watching you like you owned the place.

“Apparently,” you said, turning back to her with a sly grin, “he thinks you need to unwind.”

Vi folded her arms again, her eyes narrowing as she leaned against the door she’d just closed. “So, what are you supposed to be? My babysitter?”

You tilted your head, letting the question hang for a moment before you shrugged. “Not exactly. He didn’t give me a lot of instructions.”

Vi’s lips twitched into a smirk, though her exhaustion dulled its usual sharpness. “So, what are you here for?”

“That’s up to you,” you said, your grin widening as you met her gaze. “I’m just here to help.”

Vi hesitated, one hand still on the door, the other brushing through her hair as she considered the absurdity of the situation. Her instinct was to send you packing, but something in the way you stood there, so calm and unbothered, piqued her curiosity.

“Fine,” she said, stepping aside and motioning for you to come in. “But if you try anything weird, I’m calling security.”

You walked in without hesitation, your boots clicking softly against the floor. She closed the door, watching you carefully as you scanned the room, your eyes lingering on the scattered clothes, the guitar case, and the empty water bottle on the nightstand.

“This your idea of post-show luxury?” you teased, glancing back at her.

She rolled her eyes, leaning against the doorframe. “What did you expect? Champagne and roses?”

“Maybe,” you replied with a smirk, making your way over to the bed. You sat down at the edge, the mattress sinking slightly under your weight. Despite the heat of the room, you kept your coat tightly wrapped around you, the fur brushing against your cheeks as you adjusted it.

Vi’s gaze narrowed. “You cold or something?”

“Not exactly,” you replied, your voice light, almost playful. You shifted slightly, the coat parting just enough to give her a hint of your bare collarbone before you tugged it closed again.

Her brows furrowed as suspicion crept in. “You’re acting weird,” she said, moving closer. “What’s with the coat? What are you—”

She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes narrowing as realization dawned. “You’re not wearing anything under that, are you?”

Your grin widened, and you tilted your head. “What if I’m not?”

For a moment, she just stared at you, caught between disbelief and amusement. Then she laughed, a low, raspy sound that filled the room. “Unbelievable,” she muttered, rubbing a hand over her face.

“Relax,” you said, leaning back slightly, your coat slipping just a little to reveal the curve of your shoulder. “I’m not here to seduce you… unless you want me to.”

Vi snorted, shaking her head as she sat down on the armchair across from you. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Maybe,” you replied, your tone casual. “But your drummer seemed to think I could help you de-stress. I figured I’d give it a shot.”

She leaned back, arms crossed, her lips quirking into a smirk. “And this is your idea of helping?”

You shrugged, the movement making your coat slip again, the edge of it brushing against your thighs. “You tell me, Rockstar.”

Vi leaned back in the armchair, her head tilted against the cushion as she watched you with a tired smirk. “Look, I don’t know what my drummer told you, but I’m too exhausted for… whatever this is supposed to be.”

You leaned forward slightly, your coat shifting again, though you still kept it clutched around you, the edge brushing against your thighs. “That’s okay,” you said, your voice low and teasing. “You don’t have to do anything. I can handle all the work if you like.”

Her eyebrows shot up at your boldness, a short laugh escaping her. “Wow, you really don’t quit, do you?”

You shrugged, letting a sly smile play on your lips. “I’m just saying… It looks like you could use a little help relaxing. Why not let me take care of it?”

Vi rubbed a hand over her face, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “You’ve got some nerve, I’ll give you that.” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she studied you, her exhaustion briefly forgotten. “What’s your deal, anyway? You always this bold, or am I just special?”

You grinned, leaning back on the bed with an air of casual confidence. “Let’s just say I have a knack for reading people. And right now, I think you need someone who’s not afraid to take the lead.”

Vi’s lips curved into a smirk, her eyes gleaming with both amusement and curiosity. “And what makes you think I’d even let you?”

You tilted your head, your grin never faltering. “Because you haven’t kicked me out yet.”

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆ 

She doesn’t know how exactly you got in this position. Your face was buried between her legs, her head tossing back as you grip her legs tighter and pull her closer.

Vi wasn’t used to being on the receiving end—she was always the one in control, the one calling the shots. But tonight, something had shifted. The exhaustion from the show, the tension in her muscles, and your bold confidence all combined to strip away her usual defenses.

What you were doing to her wasn’t just unexpected; it was better than anything she’d ever done herself. The way your hands moved, the way you seemed to know exactly what she needed, it left her disoriented, and vulnerable in a way that felt unfamiliar.

It should’ve made her uneasy, the thought of giving up that control, of letting someone else take the lead. But with every deliberate touch, every calculated move, you silenced her doubts, replacing them with waves of sensation that she couldn’t resist.

It felt strange—wrong, even—to enjoy it this much, to let go of her need to be the one in charge. And yet, nothing could override the sheer pleasure coursing through her. For once, she didn’t mind surrendering; in fact, she couldn’t imagine it any other way.

Vi suddenly sat up, her hands gripping your shoulders as she pushed you away. The abruptness of her movement left you momentarily stunned. You knelt there, catching your breath, and when you looked up at her, your lips were glistening, your eyes searching hers for a clue.

“Did I… do something wrong?” you asked softly, your voice uncertain as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, the vulnerability in your tone cutting through the tension in the air.

Vi’s chest rose and fell as she steadied her breathing, her gaze flicking down to you briefly before she shook her head. “No,” she said, her voice low and a little rough. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Without another word, she slid off the bed and strode toward her suitcase near the dresser. You stayed where you were, still on your knees, watching her with a mix of curiosity and unease. The rustle of the zipper broke the silence as she opened her bag, rummaging through its contents with purposeful movements.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice hesitant, unsure if you should move or stay where she left you.

She didn’t respond immediately, her back to you as she dug through the suitcase. When she finally straightened, something big and made out of rubber was in her hands. The faintest smirk played on her lips as she turned back to face you, her eyes holding a flicker of mischief that made your stomach twist with anticipation.

Vi turned back to the bed, the faint clink of the buckle in her hands drawing your attention. She slid it on with practiced ease, her movements fluid and unhurried. Once she was done, she laid back against the pillows, her head tilted slightly as she looked at you with a smirk that sent a jolt through your chest.

“Come here,” she murmured, her voice low and commanding as she extended a hand toward you.

You hesitated for only a moment before climbing onto the bed, your coat slipping open slightly as you moved. As soon as you were close enough, she pulled you down, her lips capturing yours in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, yet left no room for misinterpretation.

When she pulled back, her hands slid down your arms, guiding you into position with firm, unyielding pressure. She placed you exactly where she wanted, her touch both gentle and assured, leaving no doubt who was in control now. The anticipation in the air was almost tangible as she leaned back, her gaze locking onto yours with a heat that made your breath hitch.

Vi’s hands settled firmly on your waist, her fingers pressing into your skin as she began to guide your movements, up and down her strap. Her smirk widened, a glint of mischief lighting up her eyes as she stared into yours, her confidence practically radiating off her.

“Now this,” she murmured, her voice a low, sultry drawl, “is more my speed.”

Her grip tightened ever so slightly as she took control, her movements deliberate and unrelenting. The shift in her demeanor was electric; gone was the hesitation, replaced by the Vi you’d always imagined—the one who thrived on being in charge, who owned every moment with unapologetic dominance.

She watched your every reaction, her smirk deepening whenever she saw the telltale signs of your unraveling. “That’s better, isn’t it?” she teased, her tone both playful and commanding.

And as she continued, guiding you with an intoxicating mix of precision and care, it became clear: this was where Vi felt most at home—leading, controlling, and leaving you utterly captivated in her wake.

At this point, Vi’s hair was messed up and sticking to her forehead, her tank top almost completely drenched in sweat. Her eyes were half-lidded and darkened as she watched. All the while, her mouth was slightly agape as she let out small grunts of pleasure every so often. 

She leaned up, resting her back on the bed frame instead. The sudden change made you gasp, as she penetrated you deeper, hitting that oh-so-lovely spot. You grab on her shoulder for balance, the other hand on the bed as you bounce up and down on her like the good little doll you are. 

Vi’s free hand gripped on the bedsheets, gripping on the fabric. She looked up at you, smirking, her breath coming out in gasps. “Fu-F-Fuck… s’good for me… Taking me so well… I-... mmmfffff…”

The sound of moaning was the only thing that could be heard in the once-silent room.

She let go of your hip, letting you move on your own, now both her hands on the mattress and supporting her weight. You move even harder, deeper. This time you both let out a gutteral moan, her head falling against the bed frame. 

Vi let out another moan and shifted up on the bed, now seating up instead of leaning on the bed frame. She wrapped her arms around your waist and held you against her chest, while at the same time, started to lean forwards. She brought you down with her hand and gently laid you on your back.  “Mmmm… f-fuck… I-... nnng… I can’t get enough… of… y-you…” 

She leaned down on the bed, holding herself above you, shifting again to get a better angle, her movements now more desparate and less gentle than before. She planted her hands on either side of your head to support herself and leaned down to start leaving trails of kisses on your neck and shoulders.

“S-Shit… You feel… s-so good… I-... mmmnfff… I don’t want to stop… You’re so good for me… So perfect…”

You continued to gasp and moan as she nipped and sucked your sensitive skin. Every once in a while, you would let out a high-pitched whine of pleasure, your body arching to press against Vi as much as possible. Your hands tangled themselves up in her hair, your nails scraping on her scalp. “Ahh… Vi… yes… nnn… don’t stop… don’t fucking stop… ah…” 

Vi groaned as she felt your nails scratch her scalp and shivered in pleasure. She bit and sucked at a specific part in your neck hard enough to leave an already prominent bruise behind. Once she was satisfied, she pulled away and took in the mark she left behind. It’s a good thig you had a coat to cover it up with later. 

She continued her assault on you skin. With each new one, she would take a moment to admire the mark before continuing to leave another. Her grip on your hips got progressively tighter with each mark left behind. “You’re… mine…” 

Both of you knew the truth, even if it lingered unspoken in the air between you. You weren’t hers—not in the way she might want to believe. This was a transaction, a carefully arranged arrangement where your role was clear.

You were here to let her let go, to help her unwind, and—ultimately—to serve a purpose, not to be hers. The money exchanged, the boundaries set. There was no mistaking the professional line drawn between the two of you.

And yet, in the heat of the moment, there was a fleeting whisper of something more, something that made you both question the labels you’d placed on this. But even as the room pulsed with tension, the reality of what this was hung like a veil, unyielding and undeniable.

As the tension finally snapped, both of you collapsed against the bed, your bodies still trembling from the intensity. Vi, breathless and sweaty, eased herself off you, her movements slow and deliberate as she pulled away. For a moment, neither of you spoke—just the sound of labored breaths and the lingering warmth between you.

Vi settled herself on top of you, her weight pressing gently against you as she let out a satisfied sigh. Without warning, she leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, her lips lingering there for a brief, almost tender moment. The gesture was unexpected, but it somehow felt more intimate than anything that had come before.

Her gaze met yours, a quiet understanding passing between you both. You weren’t hers. You knew that. But in this moment, it didn’t matter.

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆ 

The soft glow of morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm hue across the room. Vi slowly stirred awake, her muscles still sore from the night before, the memory of it lingering in the back of her mind. The bed was empty beside her, the absence of your presence felt immediately. For a moment, she just lay there, the silence of the room almost deafening.

She glanced over at the clock, realizing she was running late. She had a meeting with her bandmates downstairs, and the last thing she needed was to be late after everything that had happened.

With a sigh, she pushed herself up from the bed, the sheets rustling around her. She grabbed her clothes from the corner, the remnants of last night's whirlwind still hanging in the air. As she dressed, pulling on a leather jacket over a simple band tee and dark jeans, her thoughts wandered back to you. She didn’t regret what happened, but the whole thing felt strange now that the adrenaline had faded.

Vi quickly finished getting ready, grabbing her bag and heading out the door. She paused for a moment in the hallway, then shook her head. No time to dwell, she thought. She had her bandmates to meet, and business to attend to. The rest, whatever it was, could wait for later.

Vi walked into the lobby, her bandmates gathered around a table, already talking. As soon as their drummer spotted her, his usual mischievous grin spread across his face.

“Well, well, look who’s here,” he teased, clearly trying to hold back a smirk. “So, did you enjoy your night, Vi?” His eyes sparkled with amusement. "Did she do the trick? You know, the one I sent your way?"

Vi raised an eyebrow, her gaze narrowing as she met his playful, probing eyes. "What are you talking about?" she asked, her voice calm, though the tension in her posture suggested otherwise.

He leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the moment. “Come on, don’t act like you don’t know. I figured you’d like her—Babette’s finest, right?” He lowered his voice slightly, eyes glinting. “She’s known for strictly... serving women, and I thought, well, you’d definitely vibe with her. Guess I was right.”

Vi froze, her heart skipping a beat as his words sank in. She hadn't expected the drummer to be the one who’d arranged it, or that he’d been so open about it. Her curiosity piqued, she tried to keep her expression neutral, but her mind raced.

“What do you mean by ‘Babette’s finest’? And where exactly can I find her?” Vi’s voice was calm, but her eyes betrayed her—there was an unmistakable gleam, a hunger for more.

He smirked, clearly enjoying how much this was affecting her. “I knew you’d want to know,” he said with a chuckle. “You can find her at Babette’s, of course. But she only works for women. I guess that’s what makes her special, huh?” He gave her a wink. “And don’t worry, I’m sure she’d be happy to see you again.”

Vi’s eyes glistened as the realization hit. The curiosity and something deeper—something she hadn’t expected to feel—washed over her. She nodded slowly, her thoughts already moving towards the next step.

“Thanks for the info,” she said, her voice steady, but there was a faint excitement hidden just beneath the surface. As her bandmates continued talking, Vi's focus shifted inward. She now had a clear direction—one that would lead her right back to you.

[arminsumi]

First request ever: Can you make a story about Gojo, where their both in a relationship but gojo had to end it because he was afraid that she would be in danger?

Thank you! Keep up the good work, I love your stories!!!

LET ME MARRY YOU

↳ GOJO さとる + fem!reader

The risk of dating you his too much for him to handle, so he breaks it off, only for him to come back to your doorstep years later and ask: "Let me marry you."

2k

Note : istg each time i edited this... the wordcount grew lol. i hope u enjoyyy 🥹💗 tysm for enjoying my work it means everything

Warnings : angst -> fluff (?) -> happy ending trust me, Shibuya arc spoilers (Ep 9), manga spoilers (chapter 221)

🍒 More from Jay : Gojo works / Gojo fave works / JJK works / oct. reqs open

The risk of dating you is thrilling when Satoru's just a teenager in puppy love. But as he grows older, and heads into those dreaded 20s, the risk makes him more and more nervous.

What if something happens to you?

He presses kiss after kiss to your forehead and feels his chest tremble, feels his lips quiver, as he refrains from telling you the truth about the Jujutsu world. Satoru just can't do it.

There are so many instances of him saving you from curses that you're oblivious about. He just smiles strangely, and you wonder why he looks like he's just seen a ghost. Because he has, those pretty eyes see ghosts. But those pretty eyes also see you, "What am I looking at?" he responds after you ask why he's looking at you so tenderly, "I'm looking at my future wife." he flirts just to fluster you.

That's at the cafe, when things are still simple. He keeps thinking to himself, as he lays with you in bed some nights;

I want to marry you.

I'm going to marry you.

Please let me be your husband one day.

As if he's trying to manifest it.

Everything is okay-ish... until he gets pangs of fright when your name starts to be known outside of his closed circle of friends.

It's October 11th.

Gojo Satoru breaks up with you.

He leads you to believe that the two of you are just "right person, wrong time". It all hurts an incomprehensible amount for him, to finally cut the string that tethers the two of you together.

He sits on the stairs, head in his hands, mourning.

He starts many mornings with crying spells that last until midday.

He destroys evidence of you and him. In case anyone ever finds it and thus finds your apartment, or work, or college... or anything.

But he can't part with a very special photo. It's you and him in Okinawa, sharing a cheesy kiss at the beach. In the moment this photo was captured, Gojo remembers having whispered some dirty joke in your ear and that's why you smiled so big into his kiss.

He drifts to sleep to the lullaby lovesongs that defined your love.

Years pass, he refuses to even talk to you. The heartbreak worsens with time, he laughs when he realizes that on his 27th birthday.

Isn't time supposed to heal all wounds? Someone said that to him once. Well, they must have been lying without realizing it.

The day Gojo Satoru is sealed, he looks into Suguru's eyes, and remembers you through them. When he resides in that awful prison realm, he only thinks of you you you you you you you oh god he misses you so much that it feels like the very thought of your smile stabs his chest. Every memory is painful. Every flashback puts one more crack in his heart.

"Can't I ever catch a break...?" He laughs to himself, chattering skeletons making their eerie symphony around him.

He thinks. Ponders. Wonders. Broods. Daydreams. All about you. Always about you. Never anything else. Just his first love, from the late spring of his 17th year.

His earthly goddess.

The purpose of his benevolent actions.

He cries. And sobs. And weeps. Because no one can hear him but the skeletons and he's sure they don't mind the sight or sound of a 27 man howling in pain over a lost lover.

It's not just your relationship that he's mourning. But the fact he can't feel you in this cube... that he can't feel your presence in the world... that's worse than the heartbreak. At least through all these years, he's been able to sense your existence. Feel the subtle ripples of your soul no matter how distant you are; you'd be stood in a coffee shop, he'd be at Jujutsu High teaching, and yet feeling you.

Because as he promised to you at 17, "Half my soul is yours. And half your soul is mine. I'll always be with you even if I'm not there."

He has the biggest breakdown of his life in that little cramped suffocating claustrophobic eerie creepy box.

It's 19 days later. He's out. He's back in the world. And he feels the sense of you, your existence, swelling in his chest, tickling his mind, prodding his heart.

"Gojo sensei, where are you headed?"

"I'm gonna go find my other half." he says cryptically.

It's a stark bright day.

Gojo Satoru knocks at your apartment door.

You open it.

He looks at you, and you look at him.

"Hi."

"...hey...? Wow. Haha... you grew into your features, huh?"

Your voice fills his heart with life.

"You too... glad you still live in the same place... I was worried you might have moved out..."

"... Ah, Satoru, you'd be able to find me no matter what corner of the world I resided in."

Your laugh fills his mind with pleasant memories.

There's an a magnetism between you and him just like there always used to be. It feels like two magnets connecting at last, after feeling the distant attraction throughout all these years of distance.

"You're right." Satoru says after a silence of just staring into your eyes.

"I'll always find my way home."

A silence ensues after he says this.

"...haha... don't cry... or I'll cry..."

"... Satoru... I thought of you every day after you left me at the station."

"... me too."

"... why did you leave?"

He stares at you.

"... I was scared of you being in danger."

He gulps.

"Me? In danger? But you're the strongest, why would it matter."

Oh god that's right. You said it then when you were 17, "You're the strongest" and he carried that title with him from then. And now you've said it again. He's reminded. He feels a bit stupid. A bit ridiculous. A bit...

"You're right..." he chokes up. "I am. I could have protected you I guess..."

"... yeah, duh."

He smiles meekly.

It was more complicated than that, sweetheart. But I won't tell you.

He hesitates. He contemplates.

"I have to tell you everything... will you promise to believe everything I say even if it sounds insane?"

"Of course. What is it?"

He inhales deeply. And instead of blurting out his whole life story of being a sorcerer in the Jujutsu world, he just leans in and kisses you hard and truthfully. Cups your cheeks. Closes his eyes. Tastes you like a sweet from his childhood that he hasn't had for years. Presses to you. Takes in your scent.

Yeah yeah... he'll tell you everything in a minute.

But for now just let him kiss you until he runs out of breath.

Let him just...

"Hey..." he pulls away, gasping, "Let me marry you."

"Haha, Satoru..." you take it as a joke and laugh, because it sounds as bizarre and unexpected as one. Then you realize there's that serious look on his face. "... Satoru?"

"Can I?"

"... what?"

"Can I please?"

"... huh??"

"Can I marry you, please?"

He looks at you and waits for your answer. His poor heart. It's palpitating. His whole chest cavity inspires with love for you. This man that you haven't seen in years has just asked if you'll let him marry you — with very specific wording.

Can he? Will you let him?

It's funny in a way, because you think to yourself; this is such a Satoru thing to do... show up unannounced years later on your doorstep and ask for your hand in marriage as if no time has passed, as if you know the full story.

"Satoru... what happened to you throughout these years for you to come back to me and ask for my hand in marriage?" you ask, genuinely baffled.

He swallows slowly. "I know I sound like I've lost my mind. But I promise I haven't."

"That's hard to believe. The Satoru I remember was always on the brink of mania. A bit insane but not quite."

You make him laugh. "Yeah..."

"So are you asking to marry me out of insanity?"

"No."

"Well alright then. I guess I'll marry you."

You make him laugh again, with that funny tone. He hasn't laughed genuinely in years... it's always been that plastic laugh. But this is his genuine laugh. Silky and quiet. The opposite of his demeanor.

"I guess I should be explaining everything to you properly... before I ask you something like that."

"You're damn right..."

"... don't scold me too hard when I tell you all the reasons I left. Or, if you do, then at least hold me while you scold me. And run your fingers through my hair like you used to."

"Satoru."

"Yes?"

His heart throbs. He looks at you.

"Stop standing at the doorway and come inside."

"Oh."

You sigh. He smiles. Then he bows his head so it doesn't hit the top of the doorframe. Damn tiny Tokyo apartments. Your archway always had it out for the crown of his head. You laugh when he bumps into it just like he always used to.

So the two of you sit down and just talk. And talk. Maybe cry a bit. Actually, you cry a lot. And he holds you. And he says he's sorry. He says sorry over and over, as if the word is a bandage he's trying to wrap around all your heartbreak wounds that he caused.

"I'm sorry."

Satoru's apologies aren't easy to come by, and when you receive them, they nurse your heart. It's the gentleness with which he says it, and earnest too. Each successive sorry means more than the last.

"My angel..."

When you call him this after he vents to you about his time in the Prison Realm, and his overwhelming duty of being the strongest, he breaks down completely and just weeps in your arms.

He sobs like you've never heard him sob before, like a dog.

Finally. At least for a moment. He could be weak. Let down his guard. Be raw. Be emotional. Not a teacher. Not a sorcerer. Just your boy. Your Satoru.

Your consolation is all he wanted throughout these years. He looks up at you, eyes red and sore, nose sniffling, and stares at you like he can see your soul.

"...Satoru?"

"Marry me."

You chuckle again.

"If that will stop your tears..." you joke.

He sniffles loudly and swallows, composing himself.

"I thought about marrying you so much when we were together... 'n I tried so hard to bite my tongue when your name nearly rolled off it while talking to my students some days. I was always..."

On the verge of saying your name.

He sniffles long and hard and waits for your hand to weave into his hair.

"Will you think about it?"

"I will."

There's a silence. Satoru feels hopeful. He lays on your chest, arms around you like you're his whole world that he won't dare let go of again.

"There." you say with finality. "I thought about it. Let's get married."

"That took you, like, ten seconds."

You laugh with him. "Yeah... I already knew in my heart when you asked me at the doorway... you know... Satoru... it's funny. When you left, it felt like half my soul was gone. And when you knocked on my doorstep, it felt like I was whole again. Does that sound freaky, or does it tie into all this... Juju... Jujutsu stuff?"

He's silent.

"I have no idea."

"Wow. My future husband isn't knowledgeable at all." you joke.

His heart flutters at 'future husband'.

"Sorry." he says, smiling softly, "My mind is blank when your fingers are running through my hair."

The two of you go on and on, until you're laid in bed sleeping at each other's side. Resting. And god, did Gojo Satoru need a good rest.

In your arms, he's no longer an insomniac.

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

[hiveswap]

Summary of The Cat of The Year poll atrocities of 2023/2024

I'm sure that most people on this side of tumblr have seen the Jellie vs. Nefarious Anglerfish poll going around with like 60k votes at this point, and I'd really like clear up some of what happened since I was around for the whole thing.

Url blocked out for op's privacy. They have already left but don't look for it if you haven't seen it/don't harrass them if you already have.

1. The previous round (preparation)

I discovered the poll in its previous round, needless to say she beat Jort's ass severely. This was around the 3rd of january, meaning that this round finished before jellie's passing with only about 7k votes. Op did add their own piece of propaganda from their main:

...which was FINE. (except for stuff we'll see later) Of course running a poll while biased isn't ideal but I for one didn't even know they were the op until much later. I also added my own piece in a separate thread, and they didn't interact with it at all. There was no drama.

2. The Finale

Jellie unfortunately passed away right before the starting of this poll, which was the catalyst for what happened next. Op did exactly as last time and added a slightly more mean spirited encouragement to vote for the other contestant. This is the point where I believe that i fucked up personally.

I added this thinkpiece accusing op of associating all mcyters with Dream (who we all hate for the record) despite them not alluding to him at all. This is because tumblr has a history of disimissing all mcyters as... everything that dream was been accused of. Op did allude to not caring for mcyt. but they didn't say what i accused them of. This is important to point out because this reblog of mine is still being spread. Jellie was in the lead at the time, but not by the time i woke up next morning.

I won't be including anyone else's additions because I don't want to put blame on any specific person. Just felt like clearing up mine.

3. The Fuckening

Some time later op made this post to their personal blog:

which is insanely shitty because, as other people have pointed out, the "lame ass youtube cat" didn't die to inconvinience op or ruin their fun, and people would have probably voted for her anyway because jelly is universally beloved in the mcyt community. This isn't anti democratic. This post was added to the poll with a caption saying op should not be running this poll, and it took off. Op later went on to say that this was a joke:

This apology was not taken well by people, (including me) because "you were not meant to see it" isn't an apology and they still very much made fun of someone's pet dying. Safe to say this did not make the drama stop and only added fuel to the flame. I believe this was the point where the conversation of mcyt fans being unjustly sent hate to was reignited.

We should discuss that! it's a real thing that happens often and is equal to childish bullying. However, in this case, OP was the only one getting sent hate to my knowledge. The notes were mostly saturated by mcyt fans, and even now i can only find one or two hateful stance towards us under the whole 20k notes post.

4. Conclusions

Op posted a second apology to the catoftheyear blog to try and calm people down (i believe this is comprehensive and a lot better than the previous one) The blog was deactivated shortly after, so i only have my phone screenshots of it that i also added to the poll itself at some point:

(Edit) Here's proof that op did not write the justification they got criticised for, from the notes of the original poll:

This apology didn't get seen, or get accepted by enough people, so op made this statement on their personal:

Needless to say I am deeply dissapointed (and guilty) that it's come to this. Yes, op said tasteless things that made us all angry, but telling a human being to commit suicide is worse than being insensitive about a stranger's pet dying. Even after I posted about the blog being decatived i had someone come into my notes to wish that "they never find happiness" i mean wtf. This isn't like shipping where we can do whatever without the content creator's input. this is fucking harrowing and i can't imagine how i'd feel if this was done in my/my pet's name especially after losing them as recently as a week ago.

I hope no one from hermitcraft who is on here (let alone scar holy shit) learns about this like they did with previous lighthearted tournaments. If you truly respect the creators you claim to be a fan of as people, you do not tell people to kill themselves over them. And finally, let Jellie fucking rest, guys. she had a long, good life. I hope op can come back and also avoids behaving like this if they ever wish to do so. I'm angrier at mcytblr, though.

[lueurjun]

f1 driver!boyfriend heeseung.

request — if you are accepting requests i was thinking maybe something like formula one driver heeseung x reader where they travel to support him at his races all around the world, and also watching their boyfriend become world champion at the end of the season? thank you <3 !! 🎀

eek ! sorry this took so long. i have been in a deep writers block. but i hope you enjoy this lovely <3 this is long, my bad… i got carried away because i loved writing this. i had so much fun im not even kidding, i think i’m going to turn this into a written series for heeseung.

refer to this edit for the vibes—it has me in a chokehold and gave me the motivation for this.

rocking back and forth because ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

LEE HEESEUNG?? FORMULA ONE DRIVER?

SEDATE ME ! I NEED THIS

ahem anyways :)

heeseung’s career began at eight years old when his parents finally gave in and allowed him to start go karting.

f1 was his dream! he had posters in his room. miniature car figurines in a glass case that he didn’t let anybody touch. he sat for every race, knew every driver and owned so much merch that his mother had to hide her credit card

it’s giving maddy knew who she was from a young age- it’s giving obsession- it’s giving me with my enhypen obsession-

it was clear from the get go that this kid had some talent. he knew what he was doing and he knew how to do it better than anyone else

though he’s always been a little bit of a shit talker and ended up in several friendly feuds with other upcoming drivers.

lmao can you imagine 8 year old heeseung bickering with max verstappen?

as he grew older, he began competing in various competitions, and won the majority of them which opened up the doors to competing internationally

years later, he secures a position in F3 and gradually works his way up to F2. eventually, he makes it into F1 as one of the most promising drivers, under the guidance of red bull

now let’s introduce you

*louder than heeseung* hey 😘😉

you met Heeseung at one of his karting races when he was 15. instantly recognizing his potential, you had him sign your phone case, insisting that he was going to be famous one day and you wanted to sell it on ebay when he did.

absolute icon if you ask me

he thought you were being ridiculous, but he couldn't help but feel flattered by your confidence. after signing your phone case, he surprised you by asking for your number.

and who are you to pass up on the opportunity to keep in touch with a soon to be famous racer?

i can race faster than him just sayin ✋🙂‍↔️🤚 broom broom

the two of you remained in touch, and you attended as many races as possible to support him as a best friend. two years later, just as he secured a seat in F2, heeseung nervously asked you to be his partner.

which, of course, you were more than happy to.

now, onto present day: f1 driver heeseung with you, his beloved partner.

not you in your wag era-

i genuinely see you owning a tiktok account where you kinda just post daily grwms or vlogs which feature heeseung and your life travelling with him

and everybody eats it up because they get to see the human side of heeseung not just the aggressive driver that shit talks everything and everyone

yes i’m making him a sassy shit talker because i want to SUE ME

you kinda prove to his haters that he’s actually a huge nerd with the cutest personality, which garners him a lot more support

his team ADORES you for this

but it’s also really funny because why is the p2 winner, cocky red bull driver giving your followers a haul on all of his toy story merch?

his helmet is definitely custom designed as buzz lightyear and i find that absolutely adorable

he also has your initial on his helmet somewhere that everyone thinks is so sickeningly cute

he calls it his good luck charm

you receive some hate with jealous people accusing you of only wanting his money and fame

haters come outside i’m not gonna do anything. haha. i just wanna talk ( and set their hair on fire ) just a lil chit chat 😃

but for the most part, you are actually very much adored

if fans see you walking around, they call out for you to take pics with them

which you do, albeit with a little hesitance, as you’re not used to the spotlight and don’t quite understand why people idolise you.

ummmm because you’re perfect🫶 hope this helps

in this scenario, you’re a full time influencer which makes it easy for you to travel alongside him and attend all of his races

which is good because you couldn’t make his japan gp due to an issue and he damn near lost his mind

bro was STRESSING

i would be too if i had u and had to deal with a couple days without u 🫶

he made it everyone’s issue

his team were so tired of him that they sent you multiple texts begging for you to get on a flight

he was so sassy during his interviews and the viewers immediately knew it was because you weren’t there

‘bringy/nback’ trended with memes making fun of him for being a brat without you there

he finished really badly that weekend

bro relies on you fr

when you eventually returned at his side for his next race

he was back to his angelic self

you made him apologize to all the team

imagine you stood behind him with your arms crossed, shaking your head while he sheepishly apologises in front of everyone for being difficult HAHHAHA

he was all smiles in his interview and got p1 because he was eager to impress you

gigglin and kickin my feet BECAUSE HES SO CUTE

and you’re stood in the paddock, watching with the biggest grin on your face

when the podium celebration rolls around, you’re front row and he makes sure you get hit with some champagne with the biggest shit eating grin you’ve ever seen

he ruined your very expensive outfit but you didn’t have it in you to be mad

i would never do that to you personally- just saying, your clothes would always be in pristine condition if you were with me… just sayin ✋😌🤚

when the two of you leave literally anywhere, he gets swarmed by fans

tells them to wait a second, and gets you to the car safely before he jogs over to sign some stuff

if you can’t get to the car, he makes sure your hand is in his, keeping you close whilst he signs things

he’s always hyper aware of your safety in public

if you’re instantly met with flashing lights, he will either cover your eyes or take off his hat and put it on your head to shield you

your safety always comes before his

also can we talk about your fashion?

you always dress to impress, never a bad outfit day

pfft is anyone surprised? you’re literally gods gift to earth- MOVE HEESEUNG

travel days are always so tiring for heeseung

which is when you become the protective one

holding him protectively whilst you both wait for your flight

running your hands through his hair

he holds you so tight; he doesn’t care who sees or about getting teased by his fellow drivers

when you’re finally in the air, whether it be private jet or not, you always make yourself into a personal pillow for him

it could be the cushiest flight known to man, and you’d still be his pillow

that should be me fr

he sleeps like a baby the whole time

and you don’t mind because you know he needs it

in the days leading up to the championship, he becomes…

unbearable? whiny? annoying? come here, i’d never- sorry sorry 😔

tense…

his stress levels are through the roof and nothing really helps other than just letting him be

he’s snappier than usual, but after many years together, you’ve learned to let it go

because you know this is a huge deal for him and he always apologises afterwards

the only thing you can really do is serve as his support and try to relax him as best as you can

like couple spa days when his schedule isn’t crammed

sightseeing to enjoy the beautiful country

even lying in your hotel room the night before, reminiscing about your relationship and his journey to becoming one of the best

you’d feel his heartbeat beneath your back which would be pressed up against him

his shaky breaths against the side of your neck as he pressed nervous kisses beneath your ear, nibbling slightly on the lobe

god… i’ve seen what you’ve done for others

“will you still love me if i don’t win tomorrow?”

you can tell he’s straddling the line between joking and genuinely needing reassurance

so, you do what you always do

you turn, cup both of his cheeks in your palms, and press your forehead against his

“you look funny.”

he’d giggle, and you’d start wiggling your eyebrows to make him laugh harder

and he always does, because to him, you’re the funniest person he’s ever met

then, you’d scrunch up your nose and gently sweep it against his, eventually leaving a kiss on the bridge.

“i will love you no matter what. even if you wake up tomorrow and decide that you want to quit, i will love you. even if you decide to walk away from it all, i will love you. because at the end of the day, it’s not the trophies that matter or the podiums. it’s you. you, you, you! your happiness, your peace of mind. you are my greatest achievement; you are my championship win. and i will love you until my heart beats its last pump of blood.”

if you look closely, you can see me drowning in the shower-

a million kisses are shared that night before the two of you finally slip into a steady sleep

when the next morning rolls around, heeseung doesn’t talk much as he gets himself ready for the race

you’re a bundle of nerves as you follow behind him, hand clutched in his own

pre race cuddles are a must in his little rest room

there’s not much talking, heeseung quite likes his silence to gather his mind and enter his racing headspace

but his hold on you, and the way he looks at you speaks for itself. you don’t need his words to know that he loves you and he wants to win not only for himself or red bull, but you.

“if we win this, i’ll give you my helmet to sell on ebay. i think it would go nicely with the signature i gave you at 15.”

your heart quite literally melts into a puddle at the memory

you grin, peppering a bunch of kisses all over his face until you finally land on his lips, soaking in the pre race nerves and savouring the taste of nutella from his pancakes he had that morning

“oh, i am going to be absolutely loaded.”

the two of you share a laugh, knowing silently that you’d never sell it on ebay because it’s tucked away in your memory box, where it will stay until you’re grey and old

a piece of the past where the two of you very first met

the peace drains from the room as though a plug had been pulled from the bathtub, with tension and nerves flooding in

look at me getting all poetic 😌

heeseung doesn’t let go of your hand until he absolutely has to

leaving you alongside his family members with a kiss so passionate it left your mind reeling

his mother grabs your hand after sharing her own moment with him, and the two of you hold on tight to the hope that he’s going to win

the race is tense, you’re almost in tears from the chaos and the nerves

your heart feels like it’s seconds from stopping as the end to the final lap approaches with heeseung in close second

he’s going to overtake, and you’re not quite sure whether your heart could handle it

STOP WHY IS MY HEART POUNDING AS IF IM THERE PLS

you grip onto his mother, the two of you holding onto each other in anticipation

it happens within seconds, you barely have time to process it

heeseung overtakes, barely missing the Ferrari car as he does so

several seconds later, your world stops as the red bull team bursts into celebration

someone is shaking you, gripping onto you with pure elation but everything is in slow motion

heeseung just won the world championship

your heeseung just won

nah because why am i crying? someone take my laptop i’m far too into this

you choke out a sob, allowing his mother to cradle you in her arms with tears flowing down her own cheeks

you’re a crying mess, blubbering proudly and unable to make sense of anything

you don’t even care that the camera is on you, displaying your reaction for everyone to see

“he did it!”

“he absolutely did!”

you don’t know how much time has passed before he’s running towards you, yanking the helmet off

there’s no time to process anything before he sweeps you up into his arms, pressing kisses all over your skin wherever his lips could fit

he holds you like you’re the trophy, lifting you up proudly like a medal

tears cascade down your cheeks like a summer waterfall, while warmth and joy spread through you

he did it. he actually did it.

“get that helmet signed, boy. i’m gonna be rich!”

[justawritterwithideas]

law in pink | s.r

♡ next part ♡

summary: when the BAU needs an extra helping hand, Washington decides to send the best of the best, but what they didn't expect was to see... pink.

warnings: a bit of stereotypes, beyond that a bit of comedy and fluff. there may be mistakes in writing because I wrote it too fast :(

this story is spencer reid (season 7) x ssa elle woods!reader

words: 1,649 words.

a/n: elle woods from legally blonde comes to my mind constantly because is one of my favorite movies, so I wanted to make a mix called "ssa elle woods"; I hope you like it and you can understand the idea of reader as elle woods, I also hope I didn't portray it wrong and that it will be misunderstood T T

The BAU needed a hand with the rising crime wave, so, straight from Washington they sent the best of the best from their office.

And of course Penelope had to investigate.

According to her research, you had graduated from Harvard with honors and had given the honorary alumni speech at your class graduation. In addition, you were a part-time Harvard professor of Political Theory during the fall and part of a prolific group of researchers in your Washington office, which had the highest rate of successfully resolved cases in the last 5 years.

In addition, you had achieved on your LSAT a score of 179 out of 180 points.

Something inside Penelope reminded her a little of her friend, Spencer Reid, in you.

But what she didn't expect to see when she looked you up on the interwebs was the fashionista and family friendly life you had. The way your apartment was decorated with a pretty pink aesthetic, your outfits videos that reached millions of views and your day to day routines were the mantra of many girls, being all perfectly edited.

With that and more, anyone would think that your job was not to be a federal agent, but an influencer.

Penelope was already smelling perfume from her computer, and that made her more than eager to meet you.

It was seeing one just like her in front of her screen.

You were the perfect candidate to be her new best friend.

The clacking of your heels and the smell of your Chanel perfume filled the entire BAU office, causing the complicit glances of all the workers who were there.

"Have you seen Barbie yet?" "Is the model missing?" "What about her? Maybe she's a lost intern. First-timer problems."

Everyone was making comments you'd heard more than once in some police office, maybe it was the way you dressed didn't go along with the aesthetic they had or how feminine your attire might be, but that's who you were and for a couple of comments about your appearance and the stereotype they had they weren't going to sour your day.

"Excuse me, are you looking for someone?"

You turned to see a tall, dark man, who was watching your outfit from last season's Prada fit you to perfection.

"Oh! Finally someone nice." You commented with a smile. "Yes, I'm looking for Agent Aaron Hotchner."

"He's my boss, would you like help finding his office? I can help you."

"That would be great, thank you very much..."

"Agent Morgan, Derek Morgan."

"It's a pleasure, Agent Derek. I'm Y/N, nice to meet you."

You didn't like to introduce yourself officially as an agent, it made you look rather intimidating if you did, and that was what you didn't want.

It wasn't a long walk to the wooden door which was adorned by a plaque with the name of the person you were looking for.

"This is it, you come for a case? Any family members involved?"

"No, I'm coming to help. Thank you very much, by the way."

You gave him one last smile before knocking on the door, hearing a "pass" from inside.

"Who was the girl you were escorting, Derek?" Emily watched the man reach them, peering curiously inside Hotch's office.

"Her name is Y/N, she said she was coming to help, but... I don't know, she doesn't look like someone coming to help, maybe she's a witness."

Spencer's eyes scanned the situation, trying to conclude who the mystery woman inside his boss's office was about, but coming up with nothing on the spot. Like his friends, they were all searching for an answer to the abiding doubt in his head.

Who exactly was that girl and why had she said that? She didn't seem like a person whose job was an office job, but not one that was very risky either.

But before they could say anything, Aaron came out of the office with his ever-serious face.

"Meeting in 5" was the only thing he announced, so the group took heed and went to the place.

Once inside the office, Penelope found herself with her dear friends, who were trying to figure out the causes of the recent meeting.

"You don't know Pen either, do you?" J.J. was the first to speak.

"No idea, Hotch just asked me to be here."

"Just like everyone else." Rossi replied, settling around the round table with his coffee cup.

The conversation didn't last long when Hotch entered the boardroom.

"Good. I know there's no case yet or apparent reason to get them together first thing." Hotch began. "But as you may know, the last couple of months have seen an increase in crime for the BAU, which is exactly why we've been given extra funding to bring an extra agent onto the team."

Sounds of excitement came from everyone's mouths.

"So I've been contacting old colleagues, who recommended the best of the best. So they've transferred an agent from Washington to help us."

"Boy, they must be desperate." Derek's comment drew a few chuckles.

"I'd like to introduce you to the SSA, Y/N Woods."

Everyone's countenance changed to one of surprise when they saw you walk in, smiling in the friendliest way possible.

The same girl who looked like a model fresh off a runway was the newest member of the BAU.

"It's nice to meet you all, I hope we can work well together." You set your Prada bag to the side, being able to scan each of the members quickly.

"Woods, this is SSA Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi, dr. Spencer Reid and our technical analyst, Penelope Garcia."

"Hey, I know you." You commented in the direction of Garcia, who was smiling politely. "You were the girl who commented on my recipe for the vegetarian tacos."

"Yes! They looked exquisite."

"Thank you very much, I hope they were helpful. We need to be a little more conscientious with our four-legged friends."

Spencer didn't know if he was dazzled by the whiteness of your teeth or the warm way you had entered into trust with Penelope with a simple recipe.

"Woods, Garcia. You'll have time to talk."

"I'm sorry, sir." They both replied at the same time.

"Fine, I'll go prepare the case, Garcia come with me."

They both walked out of the meeting room, leaving you alone with the rest of your new group of colleagues.

"I didn't know you were an agent." Derek was the first to break the silence surrounding them, causing you to turn in his direction.

"I didn't mean to mention it, I'm not a person who usually blurts it out just like that on the first interaction. You never know what kind of person a stranger is." You commented before you could look at him again. "No offense."

"No problem."

"From Washington, right?" Your gaze went to the blonde, who was watching from her position with a warm smile.

"That's right, even though I'm from California but I moved to Massachusetts after getting into Harvard, and then to Washington when I got an opening in the federal office there. So I'm from here, there and over there, but I'll always be a California gurl." A chuckle came out of your mouth after making a reference to the Katy Perry song, bringing your hands to your sides.

"Harvard? What did you study?" Spencer looked more and more interested.

"Law." You commented offhandedly. "I actually studied Fashion Merchandising at UCLA with a 4.0 GPA. But I wanted to prove myself and decided to get into Harvard Law."

"Switching from Fashion Merchandising at UCLA to Harvard Law is a big jump, how much did you get on your entrance exam?" Rossi asked.

"179."

Everyone's surprised face made an impression on you.

"What, like it's hard?" your eyelashes fluttered softly, before you remembered what you were holding as a "peace offering". "By the way, I made cookies yesterday for being the first day and making a good impression." Your hands went to your bag, pulling out a heart-shaped tupperware. "They're lavender and butter, it's a recipe I read on a fairly well known blog forum, they say Paris Hilton gets her recipes from there."

You held out the tupper to each of them to take out a cookie, leaving it on the table in case they liked to take out more.

"If they like more, just pull out. There's enough for everyone." A little smile tugged at your mouth. But before you heard any response from either person, the catchy ringtone of Gwen Stefani's "Rich Girl" interrupted any culinary criticism. "Excuse me..." Your hand went for your phone, which didn't surprise others by being pink, and you left the room letting out a "Woods" as you answered.

"This is new." Derek said.

"And delicious." Emily took another bite of her cookie.

"She's different than what we usually know." Rossi looked at the rest, taking a second cookie out of the tupper. "But I don't mind at all, in fact, I think new always comes in good."

"True, it's always good to have someone new and with a different vibe."

The group turned to look at Reid, who was holding the cookie with his right hand. The young man wasn't usually one to blurt out a comment, just like that, least of all referring to a girl.

"Oh kid, you find her attractive." Derek was the first to smile in amusement.

"What, no." The voice in a higher pitched tone than normal was what gave Spencer away.

"Spencer likes Y/N." J.J annoyed, walking out of the office laughing along with Emily.

"That's not true!"

"See ya, lover boy." Derek commented along with Rossi, who was gently patting his shoulder with a knowing smile.

And so it was that Spencer was left in the meeting room with his cheeks as pink as his new co-worker's heels.

♡ next part ♡

If you like it, don't forget to like and repost it.

a lot of love, alme. ❀

[visionsofmagic]

— favorite place to kiss on your body. ✷ mk1 edition.

KISS.

— a fluffy drabble. a bit spicy, use of y/n, no specification of the gender, kissing, teasing, all fluff! enjoy! [main mast.]

tomas, kuai liang, raiden, kung lao, syzoth, liu kang, bi han, kenshi, johnny cage

TOMAS. he can’t choose, he shouldn’t! he thinks every part of your body is a top tier, and deserves their own attention. he likes you from head to toe. but if he has to choose a specific one, he would choose your neck - because it always amuses him seeing you getting a bit shy at the proximity between you and him when he kneels lower, putting soft and wet kissing down on your neck, his scent leaves its marks on you as well as yours that appears on him - it feels so delicate when he grips you from the waist so that he can kiss your neck, and moving to your shoulders from there.

“oh baby, you’re making me weak by offering yourself to me like this. pretty. my pretty.”

KUAI LIANG. the man knows it will be disrespectful to choose a part of your body over others because he is down bad for you entirely. but when you insist, he will think about it for a while to decide even when you ask him it’s not that hard. he will say he can’t separate before finally telling it is inside your palm. it radiates a warmness into his core that he has never felt on his own or from anyone else. it is the warmness that makes him weak with the love he has for you, so he can never hold himself back from putting kisses onto your palms every moment he has the chance to. he will close his eyes while doing so, getting lost in the feeling.

“my love, you’re so beautiful that I want to be burn within it.”

RAIDEN. he’s not sure why you ask him the question because he is confused about whether he can’t show the love and affection you deserve by kissing every part of your body trying to use his gestures and words to make you understand how he has fallen for you. when you say you are just curious, he spends his days thinking about it. then, he decides that he loves kissing your fingers one by one, constantly, feeling so good while doing so because it feels like he can show the gentle love he has for you through the action.

“my beloved, I will never get tired of kissing your fingers, playing with them gently. I believe it’s your fingers where I am on my knees for whenever I kiss them.”

KUNG LAO. teases you about it, yet having a bit of redness on his face as he answers your question after a pause and scratching his neck; he chuckles and says how he finds your cheeks so cute. he says he likes to cup them, caresses them, play with them - everything. he is amazed how they curl up when you smile. he is happy when you’re happy, so, he chooses your cheeks as the most favorite one. he even kisses them while answering, palms on them, squeezing.

“you look so cute right now that I can die because of it! oh, baby, you’re so precious!”

SYZOTH. he spends his entire week thinking about it, kissing every part of your body while doing so because how he can decide which place is the most kissable one if he doesn’t experience it? he is gentle, so gentle that he thinks it will be unfair to choose a place over others, yet, there is one - the one which makes syzoth burry himself into your body and kiss there until his last breaths; your inner thighs. the man is on his knees whenever he has the chance to and since that’s the case, he never lets it go until he puts a few, sometimes more, kisses on your inner thighs. they’re so soft under his lips.

“my beloved, I can spend the rest of my life kneeling before you and kissing you from here to all of your body. I worship you, and the pretty body you have.”

LIU KANG. he lectures you about how the question is hard to answer, how he can’t understand the point of it because clearly, the god of fire loves every part of your delicate yet powerful body; definition of perfection to him. he doesn’t reply, not before he spends his alone time to think as he watches you from away, studying to choose - he finds himself looking too much and when he lets it go, he discovers a truth - truth about the fact that he always begins to kiss you by the lips - cold, warm, wounded, well, or bitter; it doesn’t matter, he can kiss your lips day and night, tasting the most pleasant sweetness out of it.

“oh, y/n, my y/n. you have the beauty that will make a god like me drop on his knees. but I will do it without a second thought if it’s meant for kissing your sweetness through these pretty lips.”

BI HAN. he literally scoffs, asking what a ridiculous question is that the moment he hears your words. arms folded, furrowing, he looks at you from above, lecturing you not to ask any further questions like this one, yet, he can’t hold himself back from answering it through his actions rather than simply saying it aloud because the man believes only showing it firsthand will make you realize how he likes kissing you on the forehead the most - it feels a kind of connection between you and him, a gentle gesture contrast to his manners. for you, only you, he’s soft, loving, and caring.

“don’t ask ridiculous questions anymore, y/n. focus on what I do, where I kiss the most if you wonder. huh, stupid pretty.”

KENSHI. he is the type of guy who carves for physical touch - especially after the incident with his eyes, he’s more open to touch or being touched by you. the man puts his hands on the places he will kiss afterward, then, closes the gap between your bodies and smelling your scent as he puts kisses on you. he smirks when he hears the question though, not quite sure where it will go but answers anyway. his fingers pat your neck as he hugs you from behind, hands finding your abdomen as he whispers into your ears before kissing the back of your neck.

“my love, I have no idea why you ask this but if you’re so curious, I would say here, the place I want to be buried into.”

JOHNNY CAGE. he will laugh until you get furious, slapping his arm, saying how you want him to answer the question no more. he teases you a bit more, then, he finds you so cute that he watches how you try to avoid him. when he is done with the way you act around so sweetly, he joins you on the bed, caging you within his body as he begins to kiss your exposed knees. he says how he likes you entirely, no separating, yet, he adds when he reaches your lips.

“cutie, don’t need to get all furious about it, I love every part of you! but if you insist, I will pick these pretty lips over others because I like the way they taste - delicious!”

💚

[sillywizardman]

HI!!! After finishing Disco Elysium I wanted to read Sacred and Terrible Air, but there were two issues:

1. It’s not officially released in English

2. I don’t like staring at pdfs!

So I did what any sane person would do. That is take three days of my life printing and binding it.

TRANSLATION (“thank you Group Ibex” we all say in unison!):

PROCESS PICS:

I apologize in advance for anyone who has experience in this sort of thing this is so botched.

I have NEVER done anything like this before, I don’t even read books on my own volition, but if the Disco fixation wants me to learn how to sew and bookbind I’ll do that.

Four of the signatures above. There were nine total, eight of them with 8 sheets/32 pages and the last was five sheets I think. Threw the pdf into adobe acrobat and went straight to printing with those settings and the “booklet” option enabled.

Pricked holes through each signature! Used thumbtacks and a piece of foam I scavenged from my room, worked out great. It’s probably also worth mentioning I do not have a bone folder, book press, or any of the other fancy schmancy bookbinding tools. Flattened the pages with a pencil and pressed with D&D books…

SEWING TIME. I have never sewn in my life. My success in this regard can be majorly attributed to Sea Lemon on youtube, particularly this tutorial:

The process from printing to finishing sewing the signatures took ~8 hours. Now we hit our first roadblock, I had no glue for the spine! After going to sleep and waiting what felt like ages (literally 10 hours or so) before I was free to visit a craft store, I tried to find PVA glue because that’s what you’re supposed to use I think?? Yeah. They were out of PVA glue and my impatient ass got mod podge.

‘Tis glued! As you can see I added cardstock to the ends. Joyous day.

Also, you see that sketchbook in the pic? Yeah? You see that lovely cardboard?

It is now the cover. Rest in piss bristol sketchpad backing.

———

EDIT: I see a bunch of people want to attempt this so here’s a video on how to make the hardcover: https://youtu.be/Av_rU-yOPd4?si=7T5zgVJGAfPFBxn-

I didn’t use any measurements or advice from it but it’s a good reference for when it comes to assembling the cover from ~3:50 onwards. The boards are same size as your text block pages and spine, I think I made the cover width a bit longer just in case it doesn’t cover the text block though. Do not do this with the spine, I regret it.

And note, this is NOT a tutorial, it is the process of someone who got a bit too silly and decided to bind a book, obviously do your own research lol. Don’t be afraid to try it though, it’s surprisingly simple!

———

… So, now that’s done! I swore to myself I wouldn’t start reading SATA/PJÕL until I finished this project completely, meaning I’ll be doing that now yippee :]

[ma1dita]

solipsism

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 5.1k

summary: (post-TLT) drink responsibly… trouble doesn’t; you punch luke in this lol (novelization spoilers? kinda canon-compliant)

The one where you finally pray to Hestia to keep your home safe, even if he's also trying to destroy it. Luke visits you four times during college, in a timeline opposite to yours (doctor x river song-coded) (lore expansion & explanation here) (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: i hurt myself with this one. anyways its canon (to me) that we’re roommates now !!!! more to come like i promised even during my birthday break ! scream at me in the comments and feel free to reblog :)

(post 3/6, edited/betad @hotchfiles )

—

solipsism (the idea that only one’s mind is sure to exist)

You didn’t mean to send a prayer out into the world so strong that it would will an apparition of an Olympian, but burning cookies seems to be your specialty. Arguably, they weren’t the good kind, just the ones you grab in the freezer aisle of Walmart, and still, somehow they set your fire alarm off. Opening a window and waving through the smoke— Hestia, goddess of the hearth and home was standing next to the rickety dining table you bought off Facebook marketplace. 

“Holy shit, you scared me!” 

There’s mirth in her eyes at your reaction, though for all you know it could be annoyance—it’s not often that an immortal could be badgered enough to reveal themselves for an accident like this one.

“Dionysus was right. You’re too much like him for your own good,” she grins, taking a seat at the table like she’s an old friend. There’s a warmth to her unlike anyone you’ve met before—fire crackling in her eyes and an aura of serenity swaddling the air that you’ve never felt before in your student accomodations.

“I’m sorry I just… with all due respect, what’s going on?”

You go to toss the hot tray of cookies in the trash bin, before hesitating and putting them on your nicest plate. A gentle shove slides them over the table to the goddess, and she takes a crunch out of one happily.

“You were praying,” she states, like its common knowledge, “so strongly, in fact, I thought I’d make a visit to one of my most loyal devotees. Though in this case, you’re the object of his devotion, yes?”

Your hands are clasped across your lap and a familiar feeling spreads through you, then she jerks her hand up and points, “There. You’re doing it again. Y’know, it’s about time you start reciprocating the effort. Hermes’ son prays for you with intention.” You were thinking about Luke before she appeared—and hope glimmered like a tiny open flame. It’s still there, in the slow beating of your heart.

“He’s waging war with the gods. I don’t think he prays to them anymore,” you reason. Luke's offerings to the hearth must have been extinguished by the wrath he’s rained on Camp Half-Blood by now. The perfect storm.

“Not when it comes to you. Mortals never fail to surprise me. But it seems you’re a special case, my sweet. He’s made a home of you.”

To love Luke feels like having to keep a secret and never being able to tell anyone, but Hestia reaches for your hands across the table and looks at you knowingly.

“When I gave up my seat on Olympus for your father it wasn’t a sign of weakness, even if I did it so that others could be happy. I think your soul is a lot like mine in that you’ve given up so much of what you want to protect others. In turn, he’s doing the best he can to protect you; I listen to him every day, sweet girl. You are not weak for loving him still. There are generations of strength in your bones.”

“What else am I supposed to do? I search for him in everyone I meet and I’m not sure I’ll ever find that type of love again.”

These are thoughts you’d never told anyone—not Annabeth, not your father, not even yourself and surely never aloud.

“I hope you never do,” the goddess says, and you know it too.

i. no winter lasts forever (a night out after a drive home from virginia)

Flick. Flick.

“Come on, Hestia. Not you too. Don’t fail me now,” you mumble. The frigid metal of your zippo lighter rubs against your thumbs as you cup it in your hands, shielding the tiny flame that fights the harsh winter wind. Trying to focus as you lean against the brick of the Inferno, you take a deep inhale of smoke to warm your bones. Healing was never supposed to be easy.

Breathe in.

It’s somewhat of a routine you’ve made since getting back from visiting Annie. You’re a regular at this pub now—not even acclimated to the ins and outs of your sleepy college town, and though you don’t know the name of the hall your classes are in, you do know there’s a barstool in the corner of the Inferno with your name on it. There’s something funny about using your father’s gift as a form of fake id, and you wonder if he knows how heavily you indulge in your vices. Five vodka redbulls down the hatch have your knees feeling weak under the alley light until a stranger looms over you like a shadow.

“Those things are gonna kill you one day.”

Breathe out.

“Gods willing,” you laugh, stumbling over your boots and Luke catches you like he was never meant to let you go in the first place. The leather of his jacket is musky and his hair is buzzed. 

Either you were wasted or uncaring of who he was (both), you toss him your car keys and climb into the passenger seat. It’s a silent ride to your apartment besides you giving him the directions and Luke wonders how bad he must have hurt you for you to lay out for a stranger and waste away like this. But he’s the farthest thing from a stranger, even in this error in time and you’re still the daughter of the god of wine so after the third time you try to put your key in the lock he helps you because he hopes you’ll let him in.

“Y’know Annie would get a kick out of your haircut. Come inside.”

You’ve always been able to see right through him.

He’s standing in the hallway with his hand around your waist and he’s already broken too many of the titan’s orders by being here, so he scoffs, “You’re not gonna remember this by morning.” But you leave the door open anyway, dragging him by the wrist and your hand still feels the same in his even after all this time. What more is there to resist when there’s not much left of him to lose? 

This is the last time, he reminds Kronos, and there are monstrous hands around his brain, but yours are still gently holding his heart. The little part of his soul that hasn’t been eaten away holds on for a bit longer, tethered to your being by the way your hands are tied.

“I can, if you want me to.” 

He looks ready for war, and he is— yet you have him following you around the tiny living room almost in a trace as your arms loop around his neck. Luke doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know if you’d want to see him sober, especially when his absence is still fresh for you.

“Baby you look different from the last time we met,” you slur, stepping onto his feet as he takes you for a spin around the coffee table, dancing in the quiet. He’s older than you’ve ever seen him, voice deeper and colder. This is not the boy that ran from you in the forest many months ago. This is a man who’s seen horrors you haven’t lived through yet. You can deduce that he’s the cause of them too.

“So do you. Though still as beautiful as I remember,” he whispers like he’ll get struck for saying it. Your eyes are unfocused as he inspects your face, still soft and young with hope. The titan grips his features now, almost burning through his sense of self—though it’s not tangible he wonders if you could see it.

“I see you all the time. I just… usually have to drink enough to make it feel real. I just miss you.”

He looks pained at your words, and for a moment you wonder if he even heard you. Luke pushes you towards your room, an aura of darkness spreading through him like fire but he relents, pushing past the flames. He’s on borrowed time now, but Luke would gladly waste those minutes tucking you into bed.

Lifting your arms up, he pulls an old shirt of his over your shoulders, and his eyes catch onto the fact that you’re still wearing the dragon scale necklace he made you. Luke digs through your medicine cabinet while you sloppily wash your face and his calloused hands rub serums and moisturizer into your cheeks like how you taught him once upon a time. These are the things he won’t forget. Kronos can take it all away, as long as he gets to keep you. You lean against his chest and shut your eyes, scared that if you open them again he won’t be there.

“You’re not supposed to be here, are you? Are you mine?”

“I’m always going to be yours,” he says with no hesitation, “Four years later, and there is still not one living thing worth losing you,” he says, lips chasing after your fingertips as you trace his jaw. Your eyes flutter in exhaustion, and Luke’s eyes survey your room and he finds traces of you that he’s missed as he rubs your back lovingly like he has all the time in the world.

Your hands cup his face, making him look at you, and he surrenders himself to you as you pull him into a kiss. He’s a ticking time bomb about to detonate in your arms. The warnings that Kronos is beating into his head is nothing compared to the pain of knowing he won’t be with you for much longer. And he kisses you like he could save you from his blaze by doing so, lips and tongue and shattered breath saying I’m here, and this is real. Maybe your worst vice is not being able to wean yourself off the taste of him.

“Tell me what I need to hear. Even if it’s not true…Even if you’re not real,” you say between gasps, and your position on his lap makes him wonder why he’d ever give the world up and burn it down when it’s sitting right here and staring at him with violet eyes.

“It’s always going to be you and me. I’ll love you until the end of my days and then some.”

You laugh in the way that drives him crazy—though he already is, for loving you still. Luke lost all sense of himself when he left camp four years ago. All that remains is you, pushing him so that his back hits the bedspread. He lets you consume what’s left of him, and he’s on fire.

You wake up the next morning with a jolt. It’s still winter, and you’re still alone but despite the chill, you feel warm.

ii. autumn years (with a familiar visitor who finally shows up on time)

Knock, knock.

There’s someone at the door, but your date isn’t supposed to be here for another 10 minutes.

“Babe, someone’s here for you!” your roommate Jo calls out, and you tell her it’s fine to let them in.

The pantyhose clings to the lotion on your thighs and you fix the bracelet on your wrist, stepping out from the bathroom hollering, “You’re early, Kit! Don’t tell me you’re skipping to the good part; I’m a lady i–”

“Who’s Kit?”

Luke’s standing in the doorway of your bedroom and his eyes flit to the reflection of your naked back peeking through the undone zipper of your dress. You look stunning, lips painted red and eyes smoky, but you’re also furious. Too bad he’s always thought you looked extra hot when you’re mad.

“None of your business. As you can see, I don’t exactly have the time for this, Castellan.”

He shrugs, closing the door behind him gently and with the raise of his brow, Luke is leering at you like a teenage boy. Respectfully, of course. The glint of celestial bronze against his hip reminds you who he’s become though.

“I’ll make the time if you say the words, Trouble.”

Sighing, you step forward, but then he does that thing again from the last time you saw him out on sea, twisting the crick in his neck like he has to resist your touch.

“You’re still funny. Some old habits die hard I guess,” you scoff, turning and lifting your hair out of the way so that he can zip you up. He opts to not touch you, sliding the dress closed until it fits against your body. You think you can feel his fingers ghost above your skin, and goosebumps rise where he leaves and his breath is warm on the back of your neck.

“Leave your weapons at the door. I run a tight ship, unlike you.” 

Gliding away from him while his hands are still in the air, you turn and sit at the edge of your bed, crossing your legs as you nod at him. Luke picks up the pair of heels next to where he sets the sword against the wall, and like it’s nothing out of the sort, he gets on his knees. You offer a foot to him while he speaks, “I could tell by the taser on your bedside table. You’ve killed monsters before, why a taser?”

There’s freckles on his tanned cheeks and he smells like the sun. You wonder what he’s done to come see you tonight.

“I’ve found out that not all monsters are mythical. When…are you?”

His eyes dart away from yours, securing the buckles on your ankles, and his touch sears through the mesh of your pantyhose.

“A few months ahead.”

There’s an eyelash on his nose, and your finger reaches out to touch it, but he flinches away. Face pulling into a frown, you spit, “You never slow down enough to let me catch up with you, huh?”

You can hear the microwave whirring in the kitchen, your roommate none the wiser of the sound of two hearts breaking. The both of you suddenly realize this is the first time you two have been alone (and the same age) since he left camp. There’s a silent question of if it will ever happen again as he gets up from the floor.

“So you’re seeing other people. Must’ve been easy, h—”

You punch him in the face before he finishes speaking, and all he can do is laugh. You would never let him off so easily.

“Fuck you. What, you think you can just hop in here and act like everything’s okay? What do you want, Castellan? For me to grovel at your feet and beg for you to fix what you broke?”

And you’re right, he supposes. This is the closest to peace that you’ll get in this life you’ve created without him. He won’t be able to take you on nice dinner dates like Kit can, or hold your hand without feeling like fate is going to smite him for existing. You scoff at the lack of his response.

“What happens next?”

Luke watches you chew on your lip, and even if he shouldn’t touch you in fear that you’ll will away his reason for defecting, by the gods does he want to.

“What do you mean?” he mutters. The cord of his necklace is tucked into your dress now that he looks closer.

“If I’m right,” you say (and it’s rare that you’re not), “each version of you that comes to see me knows less, and each time I see you I learn more. You were 23 last time. Why didn’t you see me at 22?” You know he won’t have an answer, but this is the only time you’ll be able to ask the real him. The one that’s yours, just a few steps ahead.

“There’s already been a lot that’s happened since I last saw you.”

“Are you going to hurt me?” you offer him, like he hasn’t already. He can feel the bruise blooming on his cheekbone and he grimaces with what he’s about to say.

“Never intentionally. I’ll try not to.”

It sounds stupid coming out of his mouth and you feel stupid with how empty you feel just watching him. He’s made a home of you, choosing moments in time to visit, but when he inevitably leaves, then what? Luke taught you how to be a home, forgetting you exist until it’s convenient and now there are things about yourself that you can’t unlearn yet don’t know what to do with.

Your roommate knocks on your door asking if you want a shot of vodka before your date starts, and Luke is already walking towards it since he’s overstayed his welcome. He raises his sword to open a portal but you shake your head.

“Go out the way you came,” you swallow, fiddling with the copper pendant around your neck, “and take the purple umbrella in the hall. It’s raining outside.”

When you walk into the kitchen moments later, the front door shuts gently and Jo’s sitting at the table with a mouthful of ramen noodles.

“Is he warming up the car? Your date’s hot as fuck, babe,” she grins, steam coating her glasses.

Knock, knock.

Your phone buzzes and there’s another knock at the door. Kit is 15 minutes late.

iii. auld lang syne (ringing in the new year with an old friend, or more)

Your apartment is filled with friends and acquaintances, but who the fuck cares anyway? There’s 10 minutes to midnight and you’re crossed out of your mind. Holding onto a half-empty bottle of prosecco, your heels clomp over to the window in the living room as you crawl onto the fire escape. 

Clack, clack.

The air is chilly as you hug yourself, and you hear someone step out onto the stairs behind you. 

“What are you doing out here alone?”

You sigh, not even turning to look at him, “What are you doing here, period?”

He takes the bottle of prosecco out of your hands, making you swivel your head to look at him as he takes a big gulp. He’s younger again, and it makes you laugh at how fucked up your luck must be to never be able to see him when you want. It’s always been on Luke’s terms.

“You’re too young to be drinking that,” you drawl, knees bumping against his when he takes a seat next to you. Long Island is quiet at night, and the lack of city lights is nice when you can see the stars so clearly. Music blares through your JBL speaker in the living room, and the sound of cheers gets louder when The Neighborhood starts playing.

“We used to do worse,” he laughs, but something in it sounds hollow. The breeze picks up and you shiver, taking the bottle back from him and swigging it.

“All these visits…you sure do know how to make a girl feel special. But you never come in the summer.” 

He clears his throat, before leaning back on his elbows, “ I haven’t gone a summer without you since we were 14.” This Luke doesn’t know what’s ahead of him yet, but you realize that he’s right. Even now, he keeps up the habit of pissing you off and raising hell on Camp Half-Blood every summer. You notice he’s not wearing his camp beads, and he notices you shiver again in the chill. 

Clack, clack.

Your heels rattle the metal of the fire escape as you readjust your position. He takes off his jacket to sling it around your shoulders and neither of you realize you’ve missed the countdown until fireworks burst in the sky above you. The red and blue reflect off the planes of his face, but what stands out to you is the orange of his shirt, and you comprehend now where he just came from.

“I had to see you. I didn’t get to say goodbye when I left,” he says, and you take another sip before handing him the bottle to finish off. The only new years’ kiss you’re getting is through the lips that hold the last remaining drops of prosecco. 

You nod, remembering it all too well as you both watch the fireworks in silence. He wasn’t able to watch them properly the last time he was with you, Annie, and Percy just a few hours prior.

iv. spring cleaning (only big days are ahead for the both of you) 

It’s quiet in your college apartment this morning. 

The moving boxes are half-packed and stacked against the wall of the entryway and the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the French press on your kitchen counter permeates the air. Perhaps the idea of caffeine is the last thing on your mind, hands twitching as they smooth over the black polyester of your graduation regalia. There’s a few hours still before the ceremony, but you’ve never liked being unprepared. Pollux is driving your dad down the Island because despite the war you’ll inevitably be fighting in once you cross the stage and get your degree, D specifically told Zeus that he’d wage another if he was made to miss your big day.

Parting your hair to fit under the ugly graduation cap, the tassel swings in front of your face as you grab a few bobby pins from the side table. A golden medallion of Castor’s smiling face almost whips into your cornea and you stifle a laugh. D said in his Iris message last night that all three of them would cheer so loud you’d be able to hear it from Elysium (and honestly, jokes aside—he probably has a way of making that happen). A staggered breath leaves your lungs, and you’re filled with anticipation, though you’re not sure what for. 

Time is a thief and you know that too well by now. After all, you’ve spent the past four years running from the truth of your heritage—dodging monsters between study sessions and grief welcoming you every time you come home. Four years later, and who are you trying to fool? While walking across that stage later you might as well take a bow. After all, your ex-boyfriend is the reason why there’s going to be a war of both blood and ichor, mortal and undying and still, you find yourself in the middle of it. You’ve found yourself fielding questions this last semester like dodging celestial bronze, the questions always a little too close to home and the answers you give are too entertaining to be considered the truth.

So, what are your future plans? 

Oh no big deal, just going home and dealing with generations-old family drama. If it drives me crazy enough I might enlist! 

Gods. 

How do you even articulate that these past few years were those future plans? That you didn’t expect to be alive this long, much less have the comfort of feeling secure enough to dream… It’s been years since you’ve had a good dream to work towards with a boy you once knew holding your hand through it all. But the expensive piece of paper you’ll be receiving later feels fake somehow. 

Who does that belong to? Surely not you…surely, someone who dreams without bearing the weight that comes with it. Someone who doesn’t have to look over their shoulder everytime they walk to work in the mornings, who can convince children that monsters aren’t real without having to lie. Psychology was a great field to learn from the mortal side of things—to know the reasons why brain chemistry affects us so deeply instead of just willing it away with the touch of your fingers. You like making people feel better. But who can ever do that for you?

A gust of wind sweeps through your room, the multicolored tassels hanging off your neck swaying from the force and you shut your eyes knowing he’s there again. Citrus and musk, and something that’s just him. He knocks over your hamper, cussing under his breath until his eyes follow your motionless figure in front of the mirror.

“Shit. I can explain, um… I thought you’d still be asleep,” Luke sputters, his converse falling into your laundry pile like quicksand. He bends over, stuffing your pajamas and sweatshirts back into the bin with fidgety hands as his eyes take a quick scan of your room. There are no pictures of you and him on the bedside table. For a moment, he wonders what that means but then his cheeks redden when he picks up a pair of your lacy underwear. He shoves that down too.

“Big day today. You know I can’t sleep when I know something is about to happen,” you smile wistfully, and you keep your eyes shut for longer, because like this, it’s almost like he’s actually there in real time. In a world where things went your way, this would be his apartment too, and his clothes would be scattered around your shared bedroom like how they used to back in cabin 12. You always used to put them on The Chair, as he would call it—but Luke’s known to make a mess of your life regardless of your efforts.

“When isn’t there? Something’s always going on when you’re around, Trouble.”

Click. Scattered memories flicker in your head like images through a view-finder, spinning through your vision as you hear the sound of his laughter, gently tapping away at your heart again. Click. In the ones you pre-selected, he’s draped in sunlight, honey eyes sweet and kind, and his kisses are perpetual instead of an indulgence. Click. He’s always wearing faded orange, worn-out, but most of all well-loved. Click.

You open your eyes and they meet his own in the mirror. Time stops for once, letting you catch your breath.

Right now, he looks just as you like to remember him, as you knew him four years ago. Multicolored camp beads are resting easily against his broad neck instead of weighing him down, and he’s wearing the red converse his dad gave him. He’s too young, and so in love with you that it blinds him, but even then…now, he knows the look on your face and it makes him ask, “It’s not my first time visiting you is it?”

“You’re usually more discreet, the door right behind me wouldn’t have been your first option. But you’ve never failed to surprise me before. Tell me about your day, Luke.”

A hesitant smile crosses his face as he sheathes Backbiter against his hip, adjusting under the weight like he’s not used to it yet, and then he speaks, “We ate strawberries in the fields today, straight off the vine, but I argued that the ones you conjure will always taste sweeter to me. You smushed one against my face and I carried you home. You?”

You nod, turning around to face a ghost of your past, and the both of you meet in the middle only a hairs distance away as you admire each other.

“I graduate today. Annabeth’s driving up with her boyfriend and the rest of my family is coming to celebrate.”

He doesn’t know of Percy yet, of Chris’ insanity, of your brother’s death, and the immense hurt he’s caused everyone. The smile that lights up his face makes you realize he thinks he's still a part of this—with you. And you miss him—even when he’s right here, fuck, you miss all the versions of him that have come to visit, even the ones you don’t know of yet. Tears brim your waterline as you take a deep breath; the last thing you want to do is scare him away.

“This was his promise to me. By showing me something I was sure of—and I always knew you’d graduate and make it big. Wanted to see it for myself, baby,” he grins, tangling his fingers with yours like your strings of fate, and though you know the answer to your next question you still take a chance, just in case.

“If I tell you what’s happened since…you. Would it be too late to change your mind?”

“Trouble, do you want me to? Kronos’ plan is already set in motion. I think…” he swallows, and your vision blurs without your permission as tears start to fall. Through the film over your violet eyes, Luke frowns and pulls your fingertips to his lips, kissing each one. He hasn’t done that in years.

“Did I make a mistake? Do I lose you, in the end?”

“Angelface…” you sniff, leaning your cheek against his hand, “You were so scared of losing me that you didn't even stop to think of what losing you would do to me. I lost you so long ago, Luke. And you’re not mine anymore. I don't think you have been in a long time.” In these heels, your forehead is closer to his lips so he kisses that too, hoping that somehow this time he can will away your pain instead of his. He doesn’t know what to do but hold you until you say something again.

“I’ll tell you something you need to hear. And no matter what you say or think, babe—it’s the truth. Even without all the glory in the world I would still be yours. I still am, even if I can’t bear it.”

Though he’s holding you, it somehow feels like the opposite—a purer version of him in your embrace while he holds the broken pieces of you together with his golden touch. Right now, you look into honey instead of gold. The both of you look at each other in the mirror melded together like kintsugi, something good still shining through the cracks of you two together like this.

The sound of keys jangling in the lock of the front door lifts you from his embrace, and with one look you both know its time for him to go; Luke’s brows furrow as he mutters, “I’m sorry. I’ll fix this, and we’ll be together. I promise.” You nod anyway, hoping at least one of you believe it.

“Go home, Luke. She…I still need you. I’m always gonna.”

He’s already got Backbiter in hand and one foot through time when he looks back at you. Your voice sounds a lot like how it does when you tell him you love him. Luke wonders how long it’s been since you did. Your bedroom door opens with a bang and some laughter.

“Hey troublemaker, you left the dryer on! All your clothes are gonna shrink,” Jo grins, peeking her head through the doorway of your room and she’s looking at you in your graduation gown standing there alone.

“Were you on the phone? Who were you talking to?”

It’s quiet in the apartment again. Your fingernails make indents in your palms, bunching up into fists before you let go. A sad smile crosses your face as you let the settling wind kiss your cheeks, before reality kicks in and everything settles back to how it was before. 

“Just someone I used to know.”

—

“And no one can ever figure out what you want, and you won’t tell them, and you realize the one person in the world who loves you isn’t the one you thought it would be, and you don’t trust him to love you in a way you would enjoy.” -Richard Siken

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?)

1/2 luke taglist: @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko@bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303  @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r@visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri

[the-real-couchrat]

Post ending / rescue AU / recovering Curly is everything to me, so I’m making a list of other people’s posts that feature him. (The links will connect to a reblog of them in case anything ever happens to the original post)

If anyone ever see’s posts like these ones, PLEASE tag me in a reblog!! All posts are welcome, not just art!

Please note that I don’t decide what to add to this list based on shipping, opinions on the metaphors in the game, the accuracy of burn scars, the morality of Curly, or anything else that causes discourse in the fandom. I just add any posts that I come across that include Curly recovering from his injuries in any way. Prosthetics, wheelchair, wig, crutches, It just needs to have him in better shape than when he first got injured.

No NSFW

(Also this post is edited to add new ones when I find them)

Rehabilitated Curly

Party with no Jimmy

Stand around in medbay party (Idk if this counts, but he has prosthetics so I'm saying it does)

Happy abortion!

Post-ending speculation (text)

20 years later (I AM NOT WORTHY TO LOOK UPON THIS WITH MY MERE MORTAL EYES)

ANYA’S GRADUATION DAY

Post ending

Rescue/Recovery AU

My own post! (text)

Aftermath Curly

Good ending

Best way to approach captain’s disability?

A little sketch

They care

“I wouldn’t want to frighten her”

Anya doesn’t quite overdose

They’re safe

Guys rate my fanart

WWI face prosthetics

Less fucked up Curly AU

Fix-it type AU

Silly recovering time

Curly got some gifts for his b-day

Imagine Curly survived (twitter)

Curly with a service dog

I’m not a dog and you’re not a mare

Drawing the dentalcare crew (does this count?)

The quality will not be questioned

Fix-it AU

Want to make Curly some cool new mechanical hands so he can strangle Jimmy

One can dream

He’s got a wig now

Happy ending where they all survive (devianart)

It hurt my heart (twitter)

God forbid I get sick (translated?)

This might be controversial but… (text)

Let’s get you out of the house!

Cyberpunk AU

Cartoons with breakfast

Old-school surgeries (text)

Post-ending fic prompt (text)

Post-rescue AU curlyana

Post-rescue curlyana part two

Why is this goddamn white boy so hard to draw?

Captain stop infodumping the baby

Maybe never forgive

Draw Captain Curly having a prosthetic limb

Curly from Mouthwashing (good ending)

This is how I imagine Curly post OP

whats the worse fate, whatd be better for the tulpar crew

Wip

🐈

Mouthwashing AU (Reddit)

Curly if he survives (Reddit)

My own art

I’ll give him smoochies, prosthetics, and skin grafts

Art dump time✨

Hoppin on da trendin train

The crew built curly a mechanical hand

How to give Captain Curly a voice (idk if this technically counts, but it’s a disability aid so I will)

Doodle of the Tulpar crew post-rescue!

New hyperfixation just dropped

Hi Tumblr. Funny seeing you here

Another rehabilitated Curly

Who up washing they mouth rn

Don’t use the dog buttons (text)

Haunted part one and two

Prosthetics

AU were someone saves them

Mouthwashing doodles

A New Ladder-Reader x Curly (I’ll add the original art videos when I can) (also I didnt read it. if someone did read it, please let me know if it’s SFW)

I know he always have his headphones on

More rehabilitated Curly✨

You guys like this right

Anya, what’s it like working as a medic on a spaceship?

This is how we can still get the good ending

“I’m sorry Anya”

More cringe mouthwashing art be upon thee

Curly’s happy (and recovering) ending

Writing an AU of mouthwashing where the crew survives

Most people seem to be giving him prosthetics…

Doing a bit of study

2

[m0chis-cafe]

Hello! This is my first time making a request, if it's okay, can I get a reader with Lillia, Rook, Vil and Leona who has recently been suffering from insomnia and anxiety about returning home (comfort in the end) Please? 😔🎀

i absolutely love this, i get horrible insomia. i gotchu♡

(edit: i ended up focusing on one more than the other in some, but both are mentioned. hope u still like it *mwah*)

reader suffering from insomnia and anxiety about returning home.. ⋆⑅˚₊

word count: 1.5k

warnings: mentioning of anxiety, and panic attacks (there will be major comfort though), sitting in laps, kissing, joking to help, mentioning of what happens in each of the characters books (i hope yall have read em before but js in case)

characters: leona, rook, vil, and lilia

leona kingscholar🦁

you paced the botanical gardens on campus, hands tangling in your hair s you thoughts went a million miles a second..

how am i going to get home?

how is my family.. god i miss them..

if im forced to stay here.. how do i even pass these crazy magic classes?

do the people here ive come to know even want me here or are they forced to cause i cant leave..

every new thought was another anxiety that just caused your breath to quicken. your thoughts were flooded with negatives.. if you had magic this is what youd assume a magic blot would feel like.. so much negative emotions piling into you all at once.

you eventually sat below a tree, knees curled to your chest as you tried to calm yourself down. it didnt help that you hadent slept in days, insomnia only getting worse since coming to nightraven.

yet no matter what you did your breaths wouldnt calm, your hands kept shaking, and you couldnt hear or see straight. you almost jumped right out of your skin as you felt hands grab your own that covered your face. looking up you saw brown hair and ears.. leona?

his voice made its way to you eventually, "herbavore? herbavore.. seriously c'mon your worrying me. ruggie said you ran off but i didnt think itd be this bad." he mumbled to himself before his hands slipped dwon to your biceps, "hey, listen to me." he spoke firmly.

your eyes eventually meet him, your breaths calmling slightly at his presence. taking large breaths through your lips as you looked up at him, arms shaking in his hold. "dont fall out on me now, we need you." he spoke lowly as he scopped you up with ease, placing you betwen his legs, "your alright now herbivore, whatevers going on in that head of yours, its gonna be alright, yea?" he placed a kiss on your forhead allowng you time to breath normally.

when your breaths calmed and body began to calm, you sighed and leaned more into his body, "thank you.. leona". he chuckled deeply, sloching more down the tree, letting you fall into his chest. "its fine kid, just glad your fine. did something happen?". your eyes widened before spilling, explaining your thoughts to him slowly, anxious to be a burden. when you ended he rolled his eyes and strted laughing.. at you?..

huh?

"you seriously think anyone here doesnt want you here? i think at this point those first years would fall apart without you, and as for finding your way home, crawley better. or ill personally kick his ass, alright herbavore?" you simply nodded your head and leaned into him smiling, "your really not as bad as they say you are.."

vil schoenheit🧺

vi had become obsessed with training for the dance competittion, day after day everyone was practicing for hours every day. you tried to be nothin bt supportive but your insomnia had only gotten worse with the recent stress of the compettition..

what will happen if we dont win?

everyone else looks so tired..

god im so tired.. when was the last time i slept multiple hours?

i wish i could just go home already..

you guys had gotten the first brea of the day, you sat against the wall between kalim and ace as they yapped about how excited they were to preform next week. listening to them had you distracted, your eyes fluttering closed.

a hand was placed on your shoulder, looking up you saw jamil crouched in front of you, "are you alright? you look terrible prefect" you heard ace and kalim repremand him for being so blunt, but you just shook your head trying to wake up, "im fine jamil.. just tired, thank you though"

he looked skeptical but quickly turned to make sure kalim was drinking water and taking a proper break. ace mumbled something under his breath that you barley couldnt catch before he stood up and walked towards vil who was with rook and epel, who were talking across the room.

you saw vil look down at ace with his arms crossed, he glanced at you as ace pointed a finger to you. vil abandoned his conversation with epel and rook, shooing away the others around you, "why wouldnt you say that you havent been sleeping, thats not proper conditions for you to be proforming in prefect."

"im fine vil-", he rolled his eyes and cut you off, "you look anything but, stand" he reached a hand down to you, pulling you up from the ground. your head swam with spots when you rose too quickly, stumbling into vil.

he wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you up, "poision.. is somethng truley wrong?" you looked up at him, eyes wide as he read you like a book. he quickly took your hand and dragged you out of the practice room and into the lounge at pomefiore.

he sat you down in one of the chairs and crouched in fron tof you, holding your face in his hands, "speak to me.." you sighed before explaining what had been happening, the stresses and not sleeping, the thoughts of never being able to go home.

he sighed and stood, sitting beside you and tugging you into his side, "i wish you would speak up when this happens, you know that id never wish to add to your burdens." he placed a kiss to your forhead before continuing, "we will find a way for you to go home, no matter how bitter sweet itll be, i do hope we find a way for you to go back and forth.. we would all miss you terribly here.. especially me." at his words you sighed and relaxed into his side, "ill find a way back, i could never just leave you guys.. especially you.

rook hunt🪶

you thought itd be easy to hide your emotions recently, but knowing rook he proably could already see through your mind..

i hope i can go home soon..

i wonder if time has passed back home and if my family is worried about me..

i need to stop stresing, i havent slept at all recently

these magic classes are getting harder with the lack of magic

you thought you kept a pretty good mask on arround others, yet as soon as you were walking from potions alone with rook he spoke up, "mon cheri.. have you been sleeping enough? your beauty is as blinding as always, alas you seem more tired than usual."

you shouldve known better than to try to keep something from him, he finds out everything sooner rathar than latter, "im alright, just worried about getting home, i guess its been affecting my sleep.."

"well theres no use in worrying cheri! i garuntee they will find a way to send you home! with that said i think a long rest for you is in place." he spoke cherfully as he laced your hands together and dragged you to pomefiore, you smiled at his actions and followed along.. he always here to look after me

lilia vanrough🦇

after dealing with blots from every other house, you thought hanging around diasmonia would be calming. yet as you sat in the lounge with silver, sebek, lilia, and malleus your thought still didnt stop running..

whos going to over-blot next?

will the next one be more powerful.. maybe too powerful..

i didnt have these struggles at home

even my sleep scheduals gotten worse.. late nights staying up with lilia and idia playing games have become much more often an occurance

im supposed to be relaxing, just breath..

your mind spaced out as you looked at the floor in front of you while stuck in thought. your hands tangled into your blazer sleeves as your breath quickened, your vision began to see spots before you felt a hand rest on top of your own in your lap.

"prefect, is something the matter?" your head snapped up and saw lilia who was sat beside you, a concerned look for once took over his boyish grin, "your not looking too good.. are you ill?" he placed a hand on you forhead attempting to asses if you were running a fever.

"im alright.. just missing home" you mumbled, offering him a small smile as you placed your head on his shoulder. he sighed, raisng your hand to press a kiss on the back of your hand, "well find a way for you to go back, i promise it my dear."

he wrapped an arm around your waist pulling you to lean more into him, "in the mean time, you havent been sleeping and its clear, get some rest prefect" his boyish grin returned as he pecked your cheek. he was right.. everything was gonna be ok.

you finally felt comfortble enough to fall into a deep sleep against him, with grim curled up into your lap mumbling about his dreams of tuna. surronded by people you became found of over you stay at nightraven, it wouldnt be bad to stay here, but you knew that there would be a way home.

[neil-gaiman]

Oi, Mr. Gaiman (or Neil, idc).

I'll put you in context: Last thursday, at 11 in the afternoon, me looking at social media.

I see a post (edit) of Coraline, I get into comments and I see a person who says (exactly) "Coraline it's about drugs and addictions". Me, surprised, I answer "I think Neil Gaiman hasn't said anything about that.".

That person, a few hours later, answers me "It's about drugs and substances, whether you like it or not". I sigh (I hate people who are very pushy), and I reply with all the respect in the world:

"Look, Coraline is not about that because if not, it would not be aimed at an underage audience and Neil Gaiman (the writer) I would have said something about that. And, according to what I know, he you was inspired by a house where he lived." (I'm not sure about this)

After a while, that guy kept insisting. I didn't answer, making it clear that it wasn't worth answering, but damn! I don't like theories, and there are some that can be interesting and they don't contradict, but that one?

That seems very uncomfortable to me, since the book and the film are aimed at a smaller audience, if it were at least a book/film for teenagers (+13 I guess) then it could make a little of sense.

And well, what I want to say is, I know that you don't like theories and that you may not care, but, for me, it is really necessary to deny this one.

A long time ago I said words to the effect of, "When someone tells you about something they found in a story, they are right, for them. When they tell you that that is all the story is about they are always wrong." And that's how I feel. If someone finds a way of relating to a story that resonates with them -- in this case the person you are talking to deciding that Coraline is about addiction -- telling them they are wrong doesn't mean anything, any more than me telling a literary PhD student that they are wrong about my book would mean anything.

People find things that speak to them in fiction, whether intended by the author or not. All I would ever say to anyone who thinks that they have found the only key to a story, is that it's one key amongst thousands, and the story will mean other things to other people, and those other things are just as true.

[megamagimugi]

He's-a Gone

Luigi time! To suffer, that is.

(CW: character death)

This is obviously a sort of comlementary piece to I Was-a Too Late. But it's more than just that as it also illustrates a certain fun, dark what-if idea I had. Please keep reading if you're intrigued!

Lore:

Luigi's Mansion, the first game. Everything goes the same as in canon until the final boss fight, when Luigi defeats King Boo in his Bowser costume. After King Boo comes out and Luigi intends to suck him in, the villain laughs and reveals the truth: Mario's painting was an illusion, so was everything Madame Clairvoya saw. All just to mess with Luigi. Meanwhile the real Mario wasn't just captured by the Boos, he was immediately killed by them on their King's orders. The only physical thing that's left of him in this realm is the five items Luigi found - hidden by the Boos for Luigi to find, another part of King Boo's sick game.

Luigi is able to finish the fight despite his shock and grief, fueled by the anger King Boo never expected from him. After getting out of the painting the plumber discovers that it is indeed empty, no Mario or anyone else in the portrait.

Heartbroken and guit-ridden, Luigi goes back to Professor E. Gadd's lab and gives him back the Poltergust 3000. He doesn't even want to stay long enough to see what is going to happen to the ghosts. Of course the Professor tries to offer some semblance of comfort, but we all know it's not his forte.

So Luigi leaves, only taking Mario's five items with him. He notices that the mansion has disapeared without a trace. The reality of it all finally hits him, and he practically collapses onto a nearby tree's large root protruding from the ground, putting down the precious items around himself, only leaving the matching red hat and the letter in his hands. He should have known something was off. After all, the Mario he saw in the painting was wearing his hat and both gloves.

Looking at all these items, to his growing horror he can't help but imagine what exactly might have happened to his brother and what his last moments might have been like. He hugs the hat to his chest and rereads Mario's note several times, knowing that the brief warning was his brother's last words to him.

Luigi can do nothing but cry for the beloved brother he couldn't save, desperately wishing it was his warm, living and breathing body pressed to his chest rather than just a couple of his belongings.

But Mario is truly gone, apparently having met such a horrific fate that not even a single part of his body is left in the physical world.

[Good night]

…I'll leave the rest up to your imagination ;) Sorry if I got carried away with my description. Occasionally even I enjoy being a little dramatic, though I'm no writer whatsoever.

Yeah, I'm not apologizing for making this one - I was nicer to Luigi than to his bro, at least here the Mushroom Kingdom and everyone in it (except for Mario lol) is still okay!

But alas,

You can no longer play as Mario (warning: this is a video with sound)

Rest in spaghetti, funny wahoo man.

@federthenotsogreat I'm tagging you because you said you wanted more Mario art like I Was-a Too Late, thought you might like this one too!

@drones-of-innocence Also tagging you because you were interested in my idea.

Edit: Tagging a few more mutuals who might want to see this based on their reaction to my previous angsty work just in case, feel free to ignore. Or ask me to remove the tag if you want, no problem.

@silenzahra (remember, no rush) @c-lavanda @jell-o101 @stripetkattelalala54-gf

@luigixfanxayjay @itsavee4117

And you @giddlygoat just because you have a Luigi's Mansion AU and I thought you might appreciate this... Also because I'm a fan 👉👈