#like I think when people say “oh you shouldn't care about comments/kudos���

[tavina-writes]

Yes it's a response to your last poll reblogged... I try to not care about kudos and comments but it's hard

AH

sorry nonny my reading comprehension rn is like -50% due to being distracted at all times by the show dropping tomorrow morning, but like, I think it's a matter of like, not necessarily not caring about kudos and comments and such because like, these are nice things to have! We are wired to like it when people go "I LIKE THIS!" about stuff that we make. Why would a person stop caring about that? That seems counter intuitive to me.

But more like, getting stuck on a toxic spiral of "I am creating this so someone will tell me that they like it" -> "I am sad because no one has told me they like it yet" is perhaps, not the greatest use of emotional bandwidth or time.

Also I've seen this happen and like, there comes a point in this spiral where even the biggest numbers imaginable will not fulfill a person who's stuck in this spiral. Think thousands of comments, four or five digit kudos counts, dozens of comments per chapter. None of it actually fulfilled them. They spent so much time obsessing over when to drop a chapter to get the maximum amount of "engagement" that it really sucked all the joy out of like, even getting comments at all. Or writing. Which sucked!

I'm a big proponent of hoarding those good feelings you have about your own work whenever you can, and not letting those good feelings be dictated by stuff you can't control, like other people reacting to it in some way, which is yes, easier said than done.

Overall, sending you a hug Nonny, because I think we all get this way sometimes.

[olderthannetfic]

So i get the whole "Ao3 isn't social media, don't put so much value on comments and kudos, you should be writing for yourself not for external validation" thing, that's all fine and cool and true. What bugs me is the people who seem to get a weird sense of superiority from "not caring" or "not reading" comments etc.

Cause let's be honest, external validation feels good. No, it shouldn't be the reason you write and you shouldn't base your self esteem on that, but it's nice when people like your art and it's fine to get excited about that, and to be proud of that.

You wouldn't tell a director not to be happy about people liking their movie, right?

Yes, some people get super obsessed with checking their comments and stats and it's neither healthy for them nor their writing because it ends up all hinging on other people's opinions. But then some people seem to genuinely think that the moment you give even a single shit about what people think, that makes you vain and somehow takes value away from your art.

I've seen that with visual art too, where artists will say basically "oh i only make art for myself, therefore im not allowed to care what anyone thinks" but... you can do both. You can create things to express yourself and just have fun for yourself and not others AND you can appreciate the fact other people connect to it and like it. It's only human instinct, but some people really do act like it's morally wrong somehow.

--

You shouldn't rely on external validation because that's a good way to get eaten alive by insecurity. That's an observation about what makes it more likely that you'll finish a piece of writing and less likely that you'll feel terrible.

But liking to interact on AO3 is just what fandom is. Fandom is all about connecting with other people over shared interests.

[chronically-ghosted]

i totally agree that it’s ridiculous for people to write fics for films that haven’t been released yet, but the problem isn’t the smut itself. people have every right to write porn if that scratches the itch.

i think your main point is the most important: it’s impossible to write a thoughtful, inspired fic when we don’t even know the story it’s based on. no one knows who this character is or what he’s like.

at this point, everyone should just call a spade a spade and write pedro rpf. all they care about is seeing his face in different situations.

so my earlier post was not so much a statement on Pedro Pascal Character fanfiction/porn, but the commercialization of art and I interpreted the thoughts and opinions of others through the lens of the medium I most often express myself with, which is fanfiction.

let me be clear: i have no problem with smut - pwp or otherwise. people are allowed to write whatever they want, about whoever they want, with whatever tropes make them happy.

my overall focus (and granted it was probably very muddled by the end of those - what, like three reblogs?) was an interrogation of fanfiction as art, and the state of art in this modern era. and after doing some more thinking and listening to more people much smarter than me (thank you to everyone who dm-ed me directly to talk further about this), my opinion is thus: the creation of content (not art) is more ubiquitous today is not because we are getting more stupid as a society, not because of our failing attention spans, not because we are on the brink of moral collapse but because we physically do not have the mental strength to be intellectually curious as a direct result of constant, distracting, emotionally-draining stimuli.

i can explain what i mean below the cut with two primary examples, specifically regarding the shift in fanfiction cult, and yes, the prominence of smutty oneshots in the pedro pascal character fandom of which this blog is a part of.

I have been in various fandoms for almost twenty years. I have been writing fanfiction for almost that same amount of time. In recent years, I've noticed two trends that initially discouraged me, but that I now believe is a symptom of our adjustment to a modern, constantly online era.

A severe lack of engagement within the artistic artifacts of a fandom

The quality of the fanfiction itself (because yes I do consider fanfiction to be an artform) has gone down hill - mostly.

Lack of engagement:

Art is inherently created to be shared. This is especially true for fandom because the community lives or dies by how many people are interacting with each other and sharing ideas (news, theories, fanart, fanfic, etc). If you say a fandom is dead, it means there haven't been any new posts or fic about it in years. So I don't wanna hear it when people say, "oh write for yourself, you shouldn't be chasing engagement" because that is antithetical to the very concept of fanfiction.

In recent years, I have seen and experienced myself engagement in my work only so far as a like or kudo. This is not how it used to be. Message boards (yes I am that old) and niche fandom sites were constantly abuzz with media sharing and excitement, and everyone enjoyed some version of praise (unless you got hit by the antis but they're never fun anyway). Initially I blamed this drop in engagement on laziness: people just want the next thing, they can't be bothered to appreciate the hard work writers put in and they just see content and art as the same thing - stuff to consume.

But I myself am GUILTY of minimal reblogs and comments and I LOVE what I'm writing - the impact certain works leave me with is long, long lasting but for some goddamn reason, I can't sit down and praise the author's works. Am I lazy? Possibly, but this is also not an isolated behavior and it's on the rise: people do not have time to engage with fandom/fanfic like they used to. Most people I know have worked at least two or three jobs at some point in their lives to just to make rent. This gen z is the first generation in DECADES to be worse off economically than their parents. With an interest rate at 8%, who the fuck can afford the security of a home anymore? We work ourselves to the bone for scraps and the realization that The Dream has officially died. And so what do we want to do in the free time we do have? Engage with the very bare minimum. We want to read things that we can at best skim, things we don't have to think about or engage with in any meaningful way. We want a way to turn off the noise of the next apocalypse and sometimes the best we can do is the tap of a thumb.

Which brings me to my next point: what the fuck happened to thoughtful fanfiction?

But this question is inextricably linked to the points above: oneshots are easier to write, faster to write, and if you write fic that is basically "Mad libs porn" (without ever engaging in the actual medium because it is literally not released yet), you are doing the most minimal work for the most amount of engagement. But I can't fault ANYONE for doing that. It feels good to be told your smut is "so hot" or "this exploded my panties" and in this era where the time available to create is so fucking small and minimized of course you're going to write for the most popular character, whether or not you're interested in the source material because we want our art to matter to someone. Intellectual pundits loooove to lambast our "shorter attention spans" but fuck, when are we allowed the time to think - in between this "100 year storm" that's happened twice in the past five years, or the global pandemic that turned millions of deaths into a political punching bag, or the next video of a white woman crying wolf to the police over an innocent black man, or - or - or - or

In a day where reality and the world as we know seems to be holding onto a thread, we turn to comfort: comforting tropes (dbf to rape/kidnap fantasies), comforting fanfic (pwp), and comforting ways to engage with fandom. There is nothing wrong with wanting your art to be appreciated and there's nothing wrong with inherently wrong with pwp - but I do believe its symptomatic of a MUCH larger and more sinister movement within ALL art right now.

I come from the generation who banished fanfic authors for scrubbing off the filing numbers to their fics and publishing it as original content because, in our communities, they were selling out. Fanfiction is inherently an act of rebellion. Every time you write fanfiction you break canon, an established structure with its own rules and boundaries. So by trying to appeal to the masses, to curb your own writing to fit whatever is mainstream, you are doing a disservice to yourself AND to the art of fanfiction. If something you write becomes popular, wonderful, great, you are very lucky and there is nothing wrong with that either. But do not sell out your 13 beloved fans who WILL take the time to leave a comment, who WILL take the time to reblog because your weird little fic spoke to them on a fundamental level and now is with them for the rest of their lives - in favor of a 100 thumb taps.

If you've made it here, thank you very much for reading. I've added some links to some additional references to see how this concept of "populist" art is having a serious negative down turn in the quality of art, but is also not any one individuals personal failings:

Why the world is addicted to background tv by Kayleigh Day

How Modern Audience are failing cinema by Like Stories of Old

Rupi Kaur episode of Rehash podcast

I'm always here to talk fic and art and what makes you excited about your writing. Much love and please rest. We need you here.

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - December 30th

Welcome to the final SteveTony Weekly of the year! Tomorrow I’ll be sharing my short list of favorite reads of the year--enjoy these and be sure to leave comment and kudos for your authors if you enjoy them! 

~

ends of the earth by meidui

“We have a new deal,” Tony interrupts. “From now on, you feel like you messed up, you come home to me. You come home to New York and we figure it out together. If you’re on this cross country road trip and living on a farm because you like it, fine, I’ll come out and visit. But if you’re out here because you’re sorry, I’ve got some bad news for you, buddy. Not even you could fix the entire world.”

They always slip so briskly and unexpectedly into conversations like this. There’s never been anything between them to thaw. Tony has been a bullet through the heart since they first met and he’s still lodged there, and Steve doesn’t know how to get him out.

He doesn’t deserve Tony coming all the way down to Illinois with his million watt attention and a slice of that blunt kindness of his.

the steve rogers rating system by meidui

Tony has an internalised Steve Rogers rating system, but it’s not standardised. It’s also not a foolproof system because Steve behaves in ways that crash it all the time.

everything and the kitchen sink by meidui

Steve eats a lot after the serum (and stashes snacks in his utility belt).

How Close Am I To Losing You by tinystark616

Three different stories about the first time Steve says "I love you" to Tony.

Unseen, unheard by lomku 

Tony and Steve have a furtive encounter. Tony wishes they could have more.

you'd think they'd be married by now by FunSizedMomo 

Tony can cook.

Steve loves Tony's cooking. And baking.

Oh and he loves Tony too.

Thoughtful Indulgences by HeLovedYou (come_chaos)

Tony takes Steve to space for their second anniversary together.

Sun Spots and Other Warm Things by s_p_r_o_u_t

Steve takes care of Tony on a bad mental health day. Lots of sappy fluff!

Nothing Wrong by tinystark616

As the Avengers' leader, Steve always praises each member of the team for their good work.

Except for Tony.

In Arrears by Sineala 

Steve had nearly forgotten what day it was, because he hadn't exactly wanted to write "roleplay elaborate landlord/tenant sexual fantasy with Tony" on his calendar where other people might see it. He suspected Tony actually had written precisely that on his, but, well, that was why he and Tony were two different people.

Coincidences by ladyshadowdrake

Steve hasn't been to a Quidditch game since his mother was still alive, but the US is playing in the World Cup, so why not? He definitely doesn't expect to run into Tony there.

light of my life by tinystark616

Steve has always loved Tony's arc reactor.

And he's always loved Tony.

Make Me Laugh, Make Me Come (At the Same Time) by Sadisticsparkle (sadisticsparkle)

This was it. After many months of sudden invasions, unexpected heists, and at least two zombie outbreaks, they had an entire night for themselves.

this love came back to me by complicationstoo 

It's been two and half years since the last time Steve and Tony saw each other, but the pieces fall right back into place when a chance meeting connects them again.

fourth time's the charm by complicationstoo 

Three times Steve's gifts for Tony didn't go as planned, and the one time it went right.

dreamt of you all summer long by complicationstoo

Steve spends months after the breakup trying to forget Tony, but it never seems to work. That's alright, though, because Tony can't forget him either.

once in a lifetime by meidui for Areiton

“You should be worried that I'll break into your apartment, steal your identity and flee the country with all your money,” Steve says, one arm slung lazily across Tony's chest, playing with the key to his safe. “You shouldn't go around handing out keys to people, you know.”

Tony makes a low, offended noise and grabs Steve’s chin, making him laugh. “Is that what you think I do?”

By The Numbers by JenTheSweetie

“I’m not certain that obtaining a larger vessel will assist him in vanquishing this most dangerous sea creature,” Thor said firmly.

Or, five ways other than battles that the Avengers measured a year.

The Ballad of Captains America by JenTheSweetie

“The thing I want you all to remember, when this is over,” Tony said to Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov, Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton, Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, and Bruce Banner, and fuck, they really needed to find Thor, or possibly Thors, “is that I was planning to use this for good, not evil."

do i wanna know by JenTheSweetie

When Steve Rogers woke up, they told him a lot of things.

They told him they’d fixed things been wrong back before, and that the world was better now. They told him that SHIELD was where he belonged, that they took only the best and the brightest and the bravest. They told him that with his help, they were going to save the world.

They also told him Tony Stark was dangerous.

But Steve Rogers once jumped on top of a grenade, so really, it’s all relative.

[liquidluckandstuff]

I wanna vent without anyone having to be like "aww it's ok" because I have thoughts I wanna say without bringing anyone down or have one of those "you'll get there" or "But I think your awesome!" conversations because I KNOW i'll get there and I know I'm awesome but I still have these thoughts so i'm gonna say them.

Also I know that someone out there is going to think the same to me and we can vibe together and it's going to be alright <3

I get kind of sad seeing all of these fic recs with amazing fics and I'm so grateful to see them because it helps me find more things to read, but I'm also sad that i'm not on them hardly ever.

I know i write off the wall things that most people aren't interested in or they won't read it because they don't like me personally and that's ok. It still gets disheartening sometimes.

Every now and again I get comments tht are like "I don't know why you don't think this fic is popular" because It's really easy to see that it's not. When you are in the same spaces as your readers and all these amazing fics are being talked about except yours yeah it kind of gets noticed.

Also, knowing this about myself is why i try so hard to put more effort into sharing the stuff I read more often because I get it man. Y'all are so cool and deserve to be seen.

And when people say "you shouldn't write for other people" I get irritated because 1. don't tell me what to do 2. its perfectly natural to want other people to read your stuff and 3. don't tell me what to think.

Yeah of course i'm already writing what I want to write. I write for me. I just wish that people liked the things I write for me the same way they like the things other authors write for themselves.

We are putting ourselves out there with our own special takes on our interests and still people think its too weird or boring to be interested in.

Also, I want to celebrate mine and other peoples viewer milestones or comment milestones or word counts or whatever because I know they make people feel good. Every little comment, every little boost in readers, every new chapter is something to be celebrated.

You might not care about that kind of stuff, but some people do and i'm tired of not being allowed to celebrate everyones milestones like that in fear or being shamed or get that "But you shouldn't care about that" fuck OFF.

two viewers or two million shit is cool.

Yeah yeah yeah we GET it. Write for yourself.

but sometimes writing for comments is fun too.

ALSO why is it okay to talk about "oh go support authors" but authors complaining that they aren't getting any comments is frowned upon?! "Oh you're just greedy for comments" like?! make it make sense.

If you don't want authors to give up, comment. Support them. tell your friends. Don't be surprised when they give up writing a fic that doesn't have engagement because IT HAPPENS. Sometimes authors, even though they like the thing they are writing, stop caring about it because no one else seems to be into it.

Imagine pouring yourself into a piece of work and .. no one cares. No one cares to say something nice or leave a kudo or anything of the like but the SECOND you abandon it you get shamed for it.

Anyways I have a lot of thoughts. Think what you think. Write how you will. Just be nice y'all.

[anarchycox]

AO3 questions

I was tagged by @sulkybender thanks so much!

how many works do you have on Ao3? 382

what’s your total Ao3 word count? 5,375,063

what fandoms do you write for? ATLA, One Piece, couple others

what are your top five fics by kudos? A. The Courting Season (Witcher 8,215 kudos) B. You Scent Calls Me (Witcher 5,482) C. I was Pledged to You (Witcher 5,105) D. My Name is Hidden on Your Tongue (Witcher 5,073) E. If You're Never Going to Shut Up (Witcher 4,885)

do you respond to comments? 99.5% of them yup! Only ever been a couple I haven't.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Went Down to the River and Prayed (Kingsman monster fic)

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Yeah all of them have happy endings, but I would say happiest is in The Courting Season.

Do you get hate on fics? It has happened. Someone once was really mad if I wrote virgin Jaskier, another person really hated my grammar. I got a solid if you aren't disabled you shouldn't write this/calling me ableist, and once someone complaining I wrote the tits too small on a character. But it is 1 in 200 really that says this kind of stuff.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Why yes I do! Mostly m/m but there is poly and m/f, eventually some f/f should show up. It ranges from pretty tame and romantic to having a pseud for the extra hard going stuff.

Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? No, they aren't for me, more power to people who can write them.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? YUP!!! Just last week one of mine was found on Wattpad, turned out they had stolen so much their whole account was deleted.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Many, into a bunch of languages, I am always in awe when someone asks to do that.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? I have with a few people but my favourite collaborator is my best friend irl @thenerdyindividual

What’s your all-time favorite ship? Dang it, this is a cruel question. No one all time but S tier are: Zukka, Zolu, FenHawke, Geraskier, Merwaine

What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I don't know, I'd like to finish all my wips one day, but likely one of my Merlin wips will never finish.

What are your writing strengths? Sticking to character even in the wildest aus, making readers care about ships they had never even thought of before, the ability to write insane things and have it make sense.

What are your writing weaknesses? Too dialogue heavy.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I've tried Google translate sucks though.

First fandom you wrote for? Dragon Age!

Favorite fic you’ve written? Oh jeez louise, I don't know, but I think maybe a Zukka fic? I'll Share the Moon. Arranged marriage. Soft and sweet. I reread it the most so it is probably reasonable to call it favourite.

I will tag @thenerdyindividual @bluewonderer @ambersagen

[plothooksinc]

fic writer asks: 🌈🎈☯️?

🌈is there a fic that you worked *really fucking hard on* that no one would ever know? maybe a scene/theme you struggled with?

There is not! Not that I don't work hard/struggle with my writing, but if I'm having difficulty with a scene you can bet I've been whining about it to anyone who'll listen |D For scenes/themes I struggle with in general, though, definitely the connective tissue scenes which are required between Plot Point A and Plot Point B. In which just enough has to happen to pass some time or set things up, and very often my mind goes very ???? ????? for those and I keep sort of tapping away with random lines until something clicks and I'm like "ah yes this will work". (I can think of themes I would definitely struggle with, but those are themes that would not tend to surface in my work at all, for a variety of reasons. You won't ever get high angst in my stories, for instance.)

🎈describe your style as a writer; is it fixed? does it change?

My style tends to be a kind of bastardisation between Janny Wurts, Guy Gavriel Kay, and Stephen King. 8|a It does change on the regular, subtle fluid changes which largely depend on who I've been reading more of lately-- I'm very easily influenced and inspired by the styles of others if I fall in love with their writing, but I suspect I have a base that stays the same underneath. The more confident I get with a piece of writing, the more experimental the writing may get, and sometimes I start something on a whim and go HEY YEAH LET'S BE COMPLETELY DIFFERENT and I end up first person present tensing all over the place or some such weirdness. I shift slightly based on the kind of story I want to write. Most of my stuff falls into the action/adventure category so that's what you'll see most of the time. But then I want to write something that focuses far more on environment and harsh reality, and I'll sit down and try and really make my writing reflect that. I can see the difference. (It's much, much harder and doesn't come naturally. I'd put Snowblind in this category.) So...mostly fixed, wavers a bit at the edges, then changes drastically for drastically different themed projects (but probably veers closer to what most people are familiar with as I go on those). ☯️how do you think engaging with each other through tumblr, twitter, comments, kudos, creates healthy fandom experiences? How do you deal with that if you're not a social person/experience social anxiety?

Oof. Okay, so, I actually have a social anxiety disorder and a generalised anxiety disorder, so... I can say that, for me, it's very hard to reach out to other fandom people. When they engage with me first I can meet them on their level and it's much easier from there as my brain has tagged them as "oh they want to talk to me! :D :D" and thus it's easier? This is why my reviews to everyone ever are extremely terrible and one note because my mind goes utterly blank when I try to tug on someone else's sleeve and go "...hey", but I can reply to people just fine! The onus shouldn't be on other people, though, so I keep trying. For the other part of the question-- I think engagement is very important. It allows people in fandom to feel seen, to engage and share their love of characters and find other people on their wavelength, and it keeps fandoms healthy and colourful and alive. (It also creates drama, yes, so navigate the waters with care and don't feed the trolls.) So I'm always happy to talk fandom with people and I reply to all comments I get these days (I did go through a huge portion of time I didn't respond at all and I'm sorry to all those people who wrote me at Underdark or elsewhere and didn't get a response, you were seen and I loved you) and I'm happy just being silly in my own corner with anyone who wants to come and be silly with me. \o/ ...just don't ask me for in depth analysis on stuff because I'm... decent at writing that in a fictional sense but not so much on the fly. lmao. Thank you! Ask meme is here.

[autumn-foxfire]

Desperate Revival time~ (also known as me going on another rant about how terrible the canon romance is no you won't stop me this is my liveblog) ((oh I also bitch about the plot))

Long, long post because this covers all the episodes!

Sonoko, we know you didn't write the part with Shinichi in mind, you wrote it so you can passionately kiss Ran and go no homo about it.

As I said previously, this time around they did not set up Ran knowing Shinichi's identity very well. She saw him skate when he previously acted like he couldn't and that was really the only time she has that "I'm suspicious" expression, then they had that moment on the ship where she acted like she knew but there was no build up for it.

NOT THAT IT SHOULD BE A SECRET. But I digress. If you're going to do this plotline, at least do it WELL.

Shinichi... you really brought this on yourself. Mention treasure and you know they will go look for it.

Shinichi whump time! Get shot you little gremlin.

Bleeding out and he's still trying to protect others T-T

Awww, Shinichi cheering up the kids because he knows they're blaming themselves for him being shot. He really does think about others so much (except when it comes to Ran where he's incredibly selfish for plot reasons).

You know... Shinichi. If you were confident they would go the wrong way. Why didn't you wait for them to go down the corridor and go to the entrance you came in? Where you knew there would be an exit. I get it, you've been shot, you're not thinking the clearest. I shouldn't nitpick.

Mitsuhiko is lucky this robber is stupid and didn't mention the shout he just heard.

I wish Ran's concern for Conan wasn't just because she knows he's Shinichi but rather because she's come to really care for Conan as her little brother... I hate the plot of their romance. It's also clear she hasn't confronted him because she wants him to tell her the truth.

Sonoko, you believe he is six/seven. Why would you make that comment?!

Sonoko: I hurt my wrist so now I can't snog Ran T-T (She's a coward)

Shinichi, RAN ISN'T YOUR PROPERTY. She can kiss whoever she goddamn wants and I honestly wish it would never be you. NOT THAT SHE WILL BECAUSE FOR SHE IS DEVOTED TO YOU DUE TO GOSHO'S DISGUSTING WRITING OF HER.

Heiji: Kudo we're twinsies now! We having matching wounds.

WHAT WOULD BE CRAZY ABOUT TELLING HER?!

Shinichi: Ran is a very supportive person who would love to support me, how dare I tell her to help me?!

GOSHO DO YOU READ YOUR OWN GODDAMN WRITING?!

Shinichi: I will tell her.

Haibara, with a gun: Don't you dare.

Haibara later on in the series: You should have told her.

Gosho: I am a very consistent writer <3

Go fuck yourself with a cactus Gosho.

I do love how Haibara fucks with Shinichi though. She's such a little shit XD Gremlins vibe with gremlins. Also, can we speak about how Haibara says that they're holding Agasa hostage so she's trying to save him with this act? She's adopted him as her grandfather so quickly T-T

HAIBARA YOU KNOW THE ORG WILL GET RID OF HER EVEN IF HE DOESN'T TELL HER, WHY ARE YOU LYING LIKE THIS?! (I know it's not Haibara, it's Gosho and his... amazing... writing.)

Sonoko, your writing is not comparable to Shakespear. We know Gosho does like to think he wrote the most amazing romance with Shinichi and Ran when in reality I think a duck could write a better romance and their species are known for some fucked up shit.

Also, when was Ran interested in being an actor? Genuinely, this is only a thing because Gosho wanted Shinichi and Ran to have a "romantic" moment on stage.

KAZUHA IS RIGHT, RAN ISN'T A DAMSEL. SHE DOESN'T NEED A MAN!

Kogoro. It's called a hug. Have you never hugged a woman? Well I doubt it considering he's divorced.

Thank you murderer. Shinichi deserves to be cockblocked all the time.

Hattori really didn't try to change his voice, did he XD He was just excited to cosplay his crush.

Haibara makes Conan so much cooler.

Shinichi really owes Heiji though, not many people will make a fool of themselves to help them T-T He's such a ride or die bro and we love him for it.

Can someone help this poor girl who is clearly victim of grooming of the man who was murderer?

Haibara really not going to put up with the bromance that Heiji has going on with Conan. The way she removes his hand is hilarious, Heiji must be so goddamn confused T-T I wonder if he felt upset to learn that Shinichi kept this act a secret from him.

Haibara: So this is the plan. You follow the plan.

Shinichi: Bet

Also. I'm going to say it. The Spade Knight costume is really dumb. I'm sorry I'm a hater. Please don't skin me alive. It's mostly the helmet I don't like.

Shinichi: I am being hunted by a criminal organization and can't let anyone know I am alive. I am hiding my identity from the love of my life.

Also Shinichi: I will show myself in front of the world without any regard to either the safey of myself and Haibara who allowed me to return in order to help me.

Shinichi should have been in the drama club. He actually has the skill for it. He's such a drama queen. Ran and Shinichi might have been a more interesting couple if he was the drama nerd and she was his jock. But Gosho had to make them the stereotypical male and female heternomative couple because HE'S A COWARD.

The woman did the world a favour.

Heiji is the ultimate hype bro.

Megure, you let a teenager into interrogations?!

Can we talk about how much pain the poison and transformation causes them?! And how it's so under explored in canon even though it's great whump for both Shinichi and Haibara.

Imagine being a normal student though? The amazing teenage detective has come back from being missing for months now and then just faints in front of you.

RAN HOW CAN YOU BE HAPPY TO BE TREATED LIKE THAT?!

Haibara and Heiji really is saving Shinichi's skin and he doesn't deserve it.

Haibara's expression T-T She helped you because she cares about you Shinichi.

It's interesting that Shinichi is so possessive about how Conan is seen as even though he hates being Conan.

Oh, so the one romantic thing Shinichi did on stage, kinda, WASN'T EVEN HIS IDEA. Yeah, he loves Ran so much <.<

YES HAVE AN IDENTITY CRISIS OVER HOW ALL THE FRIENDS YOU'VE MADE AS CONAN DON'T CROSSOVER TO SHINICHI.

Shinichi calling Ran nee-chan could have been such a good thing to explore as well but they play it off as a joke. I love when fanfic writers explore what Shinichi believed to be romantic feelings turning into familial ones the longer he plays as Ran's little brother T-T

Also another thing I'd personally love to explore: Ran and Shinichi's "romance" being based upon how the whole world expects them to get together because man and a woman being friends must mean they will one day love one another. It's something that still happens today, a girl can introduce a boy to people as her friend and people will automatically assume that something more will happen with them later on in life. What's also interesting is that many people who have these relationships realise that they were only together because they felt pressured to be together due to everyone's expectations. It fits Ran and Shinichi's relationship to a tee.

Shinichi, your rich kid is showing.

RAN COMPARING SHINICHI TO CONAN, THE BOY WHO IS HAS BECOME HER LITTLE BROTHER.

I can speak at length that Shinichi brought Ran to an expensive restaurant and told her he had something important he wanted to share with her and her immediate assumption is that he just wants to have her notes. Yeah, she is so in love with him <.<

Thank you murderer for cockblocking Shinichi.

At least this time he didn't run off without her permission this time. But I don't think Gosho realises what a bit dig it is to their relationship that Ran mentioned she wouldn't run off like he does. Because he has no respect for Ran the way that Ran has for Shinichi. Because to Gosho, Ran is just his love interest and not a character~ Yes I am fucking salty about this.

Shinichi is so used to using Takagi as a go between T-T

RAN DOESN'T EVEN KNOW WHY SHINICHI HAS BROUGHT HER HERE AND SHE'S JUST THINKING ABOUT THE WORST CASE SCENARIOS. Yes, this is romantic, Gosho.

Can we talk about Shinichi's idea of romance was to COPY HIS PARENTS. HE COULDN'T EVEN BE BOTHERED TO COME UP WITH SOMETHING ORIGINAL FOR RAN.

YES HE WOULDN'T. YOU ARE TEENAGERS.

Arggggh Shinichi adopting Conan mannerisms when questioning criminals T-T

Shinichi when doing a romantic pose with a pretty woman: No reaction, whatsoever.

Meanwhile, Takagi: What is going on!

Me in Shinichi's ear: Gay, gay, homesexual, gay!

Ran doesn't even think about just... being asked to be his girlfriend. Because it's a thought that doesn't cross her mind

Whoever designed this costume needs to be put in jail.

Haibara did tell you the antidote was a trial run, Shinichi. She never told you it was permanent.

Shinichi is dying in front of everyone and no one cares.

He's not cocky because he's dying.

Get arrested because you described the colour pink, idiot!

Shinichi is still dying here!

Thank you temporary antidote for cockblocking Shinichi.

THIS ISN'T ROMANTIC GOSHO. THIS IS TRAGIC AND RAN IS A PERSON WHO DESERVES SO MUCH FUCKING BETTER.

DON'T MAKE HER WAIT FOR HIM. FOR A MAN WHO MIGHT NOT RETURN.

God I hate this moment. A fucking american cartoon handles a situation like this so much better and I'm going to share it. You've probably heard about it, it's called American Dad. In the show, two characters are married and the husband is kidnapped by aliens, leaving his wife waiting for him on earth. He escapes the aliens but doesn't know how to return home. One day, he happens to come across a radio transition of his wife's brother and is able to speak to him and then speak to his wife again. But something else happened, the wife met a man she really liked and was on the process of moving on. When her husband tells her he thinks he's found a way home, he asks her to wait for him until he does. And she does. The husband found a wormhole that did return him to earth, but it was 60 years later. His wife waited for him for 60 years. He later learns his wife also almost moved on from him and is hurt by it, the stress causes his aged wife to collapse where she ends up in the hospital, where the man who she was going to move on with works. The husband, realising he made his wife waste 60 years of her life, returns back through the wormhole to the time where he first told her to wait for him AND TOLD HER TO MOVE ON BECAUSE HE DOESN'T KNOW WHEN HE WILL BE BACK AND HE DOESN'T WANT HER LIFE TO REVOLVE AROUND WAITING FOR HIM.

SHOULD I MENTION THIS CHARACTER IS THE COMIC RELIEF OF THE SERIES. THE WRITERS OF A FUCKING COMEDY UNDERSTAND ROMANCE BETTER THAN A MAN WHO IS WRITING A ROMANTIC DETECTIVE MANGA.

FUCK.

Okay, I'm calm again.

[underworldobsessed]

Fanfic Writer Questions!

Thanks for tagging me, @optiwashere. I don't think I'm going to tag anyone, but if you see this and want to do it, feel free! Have fun with this!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

158, oops. I will say so many of those are Star Wars because I went from barely writing to 'Oh my god I have so much motivation' because of my SW phase. I do owe a lot of my current muse because of that

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

I mean, it's not nearly as much as one would think, only sitting at 326,735, but a lot of my fics on here are drabbles rather than full blooded fics.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

So my current main fandom is (obviously) BG3. But I'm still planning fics for Star Wars, Underworld and The Magnus Archives, even if all of those have taken a back seat since BG3 has taken over my brain.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

So here they are. 1. Blood Memories (Underworld) 2. Taking Care of Her (Agent Carter) 3. The More You Try to Hide It (Star Wars) 4. Winds of Change (Underworld) 5. Anger Manifestation (The X-Files) I will say, I'm rather surprised that two of them are Underworld fics. The fandom is quite small, but I'm glad to see that honestly. That's where I spent so much of my time, and those fics were me righting the wrongs that the series did to me (I'm looking at you Blood Wars, and your treatment of Michael). And I'm honestly not surprised about BG3 not being here, I don't pay attention to my kudos much, but I do know I don't see nearly as much attention on them. I love what I write, so that's the important thing.

5. Do you respond to comments?

I do my damnedest to remember to reply to comments. I know I don't always succeed, but I try. Often times, the ones I don't reply to are the ones that I see when I'm on the clock at work (checking my emails when I really shouldn't be) and I'll be like "Oh I need to reply to those later" and then I forget for like two weeks, and then I feel so guilty that I forgot that I just... don't.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Oh shit ummmm... I have a lot of angsty fics in the world. Can't Breathe literally explains Satine's perspective as she dies in canon. Or Even in Death where even as I tried to write it as a hopeful ending for Selene, it was the tragedy of Selene finding Michael's body post Blood Wars, and I was honestly in tears writing it.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I'm not sure. I'd love to say my adopting Kurik fic is the happiest ending I've written, but I tinged it with uncertainty. Perhaps Shining Like They Never Did Before, because it gave me a chance to give Nemeia the feeling of truly being comfortable in their body (and to have Shadowheart and Karlach enjoy being with their partner :P )

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I had someone go onto one of my Bo-Katan fics and write a review about how much they hate Bo-Katan, which I just deleted after being so shocked and how brazen they were. Other than that, it's kinda been a while. Perk of not being a huge author I suppose is that I don't get much hate. I did get a massive hateful review when I just started writing fanfics at 12 that almost made me quit writing.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I definitely do, not super frequently, but I do! I've got some vanilla (mostly vanilla if I'm honest), but I definitely have some kinky stuff that's been published (or y'know, planned because there is no way Karlach/Shadowheart/Nemeia are vanilla).

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I have something on FFN that's a crossover, but I haven't touched it in a while. I wrote an Underworld/Castle crossover that didn't get very far. I have, however, been planning an Underworld/Star Wars crossover for years but I'm very tentative in writing it for some reason.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Thankfully not.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nah, but I'd be down to talk to people about it!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I mean, technically yes? I've taken a roleplay I've done with a friend and (with their permission) turned it into a fic, and a friend of mine is using our rp that we did into a fic. Other than that, I don't think so.

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

I can't safely answer that because god knows I love so many ships like... Shadowheart/Nemeia/Karlach for BG3, Obitine for Star Wars, Selene/Michael for Underworld. Those are probably my big ships that I love more than anything.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

My Dark Obitine fic that I started writing that never really got any further. Like... I have up to chapter 5 written in docs, but only two published. I'd love to continue it, but this is the one based on the rp with my friend and I'm worried about hitting the point where we stopped rping. So I stopped writing.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Angst. I'd like to think I'm very good at writing angst. I also love writing dialogue and I'm very talented with grammar and (most of the time) spelling.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Keeping up with updating fics, sometimes I struggle with characterization (though I try my best), and I ramble sometimes.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I used to do it fairly frequently. I was trying to learn Mando'a for my Star Wars fics since Mandalorians were my area of love for that series, and I wanted to write more in their language.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Yu-Gi-Oh 5Ds was my first fandom. I haven't really written for it in years, but yeah, I started writing for them so long ago now.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Now that is a hard question. If I'm looking in the past year, Give Her Back! is my favorite thing I've written. Writing Nemeia's perspective with Shadowheart being taken by Orin was some of the most fun I've had in a long time! I also love Save Me If I Become My Demons because I got to write two of my favorite things at the time, Star Wars and Vampires.

[ghostaholics]

BIIIIITCH I CHECKED THE WORD COUNT, AND THEN I CHECKED MY CALENDAR, BECAUSE I HAD TO MAKE SURE IT WASN’T ALREADY CHRISTMAS.

My reaction to seeing the update was damn near Pavlovian. I feel like I should be embarrassed to admit that, but I don’t care. Not religious, but definitely blessed this evening (not actually evening, I woke up at 1:30 in the morning and couldn’t sleep so I’m treating myself to this even though I have to officially be up at 5).

Anyways, here’s my live commentary, because you deserve nothing less.

I read the first line and it demolished me, so thank you for that. I thought I knew what I was in for, and clearly I was wrong because I was blushing the entire time. Price is too smooth. I can’t deal. I’d be a big old non-functioning ball of mush in his presence, so kudos to reader for being able to carry on about her day like business as usual, because if he were in such close proximity all the time that way, I don’t think I could relate if I’m being completely honest.

Actually foaming at the mouth for the way he touches her. I'm a grown-ass woman. I shouldn't be giggling like a fucking school-girl over here. Butterflies in my tummy and whatever. This is fucking blasphemy.

Such a slut for the pool game tutorial. Beyond feral. The ‘good girl’ praise outside of the bedroom rocked my shit. Jesus fucking Christ. Trying not to implode and failing miserably. I have read a handful of fics where he says good girl that at this point, I should be immune. But guess what? This one made my brain short-circuit the worst so thanks for that!

The whole birthday sequence was adorable. I like how you’re expanding the fic to include relationships with other characters because their dynamics as a whole and on an individual level are interesting. They seem like they’d all die for each other and if I don’t have friends like that then I don’t want ‘em at all. Also very nice considering that in the first part she didn’t know anybody and was basically on her own, so seeing them accept the Reader throughout the series has been extremely heart-warming. I’m a soft bitch for the group.

Reader is so real for thinking about whether Price’s chair can hold two people. Because honestly, same. I feel like I have to take breaks when I read because that entire office sequence almost made me combust and they were literally only talking.

Would die for domestic Price. The sweater? The apron? Cooking? CRYING. Soft touches and gentle kisses? SCREAMING. Reader has more willpower than me because I would’ve folded so fast if he asked me to stay the night. Perished during that part, not gonna lie. Like babe, you want to host a sleepover in your cozy house? Aha~say less. Price was gracious about it, but even if he manhandled me into agreeing (which I would not object to) and I would’ve been all, ‘oh no, I guess I’m spending the night in your wonderful home, how… :/ unfortunate.’ Me at Reader even though she declined politely:

The color coordinating with the dress – you’re a genius; big brain behavior right there. Commence more of me blushing. I actually can't fucking deal. I was basically devolving into something less human towards the end of this fic. Every interaction? Pure gold. Me? A settler migrating west for the California Gold Rush in 1848.

The end?? G O D. Plotting to hide a body: just cute, couple things <3 Or either way, whatever’s about go down can’t be legal and I’m here thinking that Price, who partakes in criminal/illicit activities is the same person who wears an apron with flour on it – like yes, get you a man who can do both. Also somebody else said it in another comment but the fact that she called him first when she didn't know what to do. I am quite literally not okay. Deceased.

vii. wise men say, only fools rush in

Pairing: Mob Boss!Price x F!Reader Word Count: 7.5k Warnings: alcohol, heavy flirting, violence, blood, minor character death Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters. A/N: this chapter is dedicated to the wonderful @chaoskrakenuwu, who was kind enough to let me name a character after her, and also to tumblr user @deadbranch, who mentioned that tags in taglists might not work if you have your visibility settings set to make their url unsearchable on tumblr!! i tested it out a few times and sometimes it works, sometimes not but if your tag isn't working below maybe double-check your visibility settings and turn them off (if you're comfortable with that) and I'll try updating your tag!! small edit: tumblr cut off part of the middle, so i re-added it in case you saw it when it first posted and it didn't make sense LOL prev | next

In the following weeks, you learn one very important thing: John Price is a relentless flirt.

(After that first conversation, he had disappeared into his office for the remainder of the day not reappearing until you had returned to the club to get ready backstage. You took your time, heart racing as your attention was split between preparing for the show and trying not to imagine Price joining you backstage and making good on his offer to wish you luck.

He never did, but once you took your place on stage, you immediately spotted him sitting at the bar between Ghost and Nik, eyes trained solely on you. He stayed in that spot for the entire show, his gaze never once leaving you, even when others came up to speak to him. He bought you a congratulatory drink afterward, handed to you with a sly smile and gentle squeeze of your hip.)

He hadn’t stayed long after that, whisked away by something important Ghost whispered into his ear, but you find him in that same spot every night after that, watching your performance with a singular intensity that sets your skin on fire.

Farah takes over the two weeks leading up to her and Alex’s departure, giving you a welcomed break and letting you enjoy the club and her flawless performances.

Price maintains his spot at the bar, making eyes at you anytime you pass by as you spend your time between dancing with Kyle and watching Valeria hustle unsuspecting patrons at the pool table. When you occasionally stop at the bar, you make it a point to stand next to him as you wait for your drinks.

Regardless of what he’s doing—whether he’s drinking with his eyes glued to you or talking to someone else, his attention focused entirely away from you—a warm hand always winds its way around your waist, slowly feeling up the fabric of whatever outfit Valeria’s put you in for the night before it settles on your hip. You lean into the touch, lightly skimming your nails across the back of Price’s hand as you wait for your drinks.

Alex serves you with a knowing look—one you make a show of ignoring—and you squeeze Price’s hand. He presses your hip in response, the slow glide of his hand as he pulls back his arm, leaving a blazing trail across your skin that lingers as you take your drinks and return to Kyle or Valeria.

“You know,” Valeria says one night, sharp gaze following you as you return from the bar with a drink for her and lemon water for yourself, “you still owe me a game.”

“Can’t say it’ll be much of a game,” you laugh, sitting beside her. “I’m shit at poker.”

“I wasn’t talking about poker,” Valeria grins, eyes sliding to her right where the pool tables sit.

“Alright, but fair warning, I’m about as good at pool as I am poker.” Valeria pays you no mind, taking her drink and sauntering toward the tables, crimson dress flowing with every step.

The table she approaches is occupied, surrounded by a small group that isn’t so much playing as they are holding cue sticks and talking. Valeria joins them, easing into their conversation with a coy smile and light touch to the nearest man’s arm. You don’t hear the conversation, but Valeria tilts her head and says something, and one of the group hands her his pool cue before leading the rest of his friends to the dancefloor.

“That was nice of them,” you laugh, joining her at the table. She hums a small laugh, handing you your own cue stick.

Valeria starts the game, and it ends almost as quickly as it begins, a look of absolute disbelief plastered on her face.

“I told you I was bad at this,” you tease her.

“I never thought I’d meet a worse player than Alejandro.” Valeria shakes her head, unable to compose herself for the first time since you’ve met her. You’d take some pride in being able to surprise her if it weren’t followed by the pitying gaze of disappointment she turns to you with.

It’s a quick, momentary glance before that tell-tale smirk crawls across her face. She lays her cue on the table, sights set on something behind you. “We’ll fix this, don’t worry.”

Valeria pats you on the arm, disappearing into the crowd of people before you can stop her. You let it go, setting your cue next to hers and taking the time to sip from your water and turn your attention to the stage where Farah gives another flawless performance.

“Enjoying yourself, Птичка?” You turn, finding Nik leaning against the other side of the pool table, dressed in solid black with his sunglasses pushed up into his hair.

“Very much so, actually.”

Nik laughs, tipping his drink to you with an easy smile as Valeria reappears beside him. You don’t get the chance to react as a hand slides across your waist, your body tensing at the sudden touch.

“Glad to hear it.” You relax as the baritone of Price’s voice reaches your ears, and you turn to land a playful slap against his chest.

“Let’s try this again—,” Valeria says, picking up both pool cues and holding one out to you and the other to Price, “—two against two.”

You’re reluctant to take the cue stick from her, but you do, sending Price a sympathetic smile, “Apologies in advance.”

“C’mon now, you can’t be that bad,” he chuckles. Valeria lets out a bark of a laugh as Price takes the other stick from her. She turns away swiftly, trying to bite down on the smirk stretching across her face as Nik re-racks the balls.

Valeria is gracious enough to convince Nik to let you go first, and you do your best on the break. Your best is…not great, laughable even.

And laugh Valeria does. Nik lets out a low whistle, turning away the moment you look at him, his shoulders shaking with unmistakable laughter. You turn to Price, your last saving grace, only to find him staring back with a pitying look that you think you hate more than the laughter.

“Yeah, yeah, get your laughs in,” you pout, setting your cue stick against the table and crossing your arms over your chest.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Valeria coos, lips pursed tauntingly.

“You weren’t…awful,” Nik adds, though it’s choked out through stifled laughs.

“It’s the way you’re holding it,” Price laughs, making his way toward you. “Here, I’ll show you.”

You expect him to take over your turn, but he holds his cue stick out to you instead. You pout for an extra second before giving an exaggerated sigh and taking the stick from him. He catches your wrist before you can pull away and lightly pulls you toward him, guiding you to stand in front of him.

If you couldn’t play before, you don’t know how anyone expects you to concentrate when the solid warmth of Price’s body presses up against your back, his chin resting on your shoulder so you can feel the soft fanning of his breath against your neck. Gently, he adjusts your elbows, guiding you to hold the cue stick properly. When he’s satisfied, his hands glide down from your elbows, one settling on your hip and the other against your back. He takes his time, feeling the velvet material of the sapphire blue dress Valeria put you in. He hums appreciatively, the vibrations skating down your spine.

“Lean forward,” he murmurs into your ear, the club’s music drowned out by his voice. A small press to your back, and you bend forward, trying not to lose your grip on the cue stick as he purrs, “A little more.”

When he’s satisfied, his hand leaves your back to settle on your shoulder. He turns you slightly to the left, adjusting your angle before he steps back with a soft, “Now try.”

Keeping yourself composed is a struggle, but you do as he says. The cue ball sails, a successful break scattering the rest across the table. The group around you cheers as you stand up straight and instantly reach for your water. You sip the icy water, trying to cool to fire, crawling beneath your skin as Valeria takes her turn, but Price stands at your side, leaning down so close you can feel his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

“Good girl.”

You swallow hard, nearly choking on your water as he pulls away with a wide smirk, and you realize that he’s here to play an entirely different game.

After five rounds, your team loses 3-2, but Price leads you to the bar for a consolation drink with an arm around your waist, and you feel like the biggest winner in the club.

-

Kyle’s birthday comes mid-summer.

He doesn’t tell you about it, but you get a suspicious text from Soap one night inviting you to a “secret meeting” at the club and telling you to bring cash.

It’s the middle of the night, far too late for you to be safely leaving your motel room, but you get ready anyway.

Curiosity killed the cat, not the canary, after all.

When you get to the club, you text Soap, and he tells you to come through the front, lock the door behind you, and head straight backstage. You follow his instructions, finding backstage empty and vacant save for the soft echo of voices from the dressing room. You follow the voice, knocking twice before opening the door.

As soon as the door opens, the room goes silent. You’ve apparently interrupted a very serious meeting between Soap, Ghost, Roach, and König as their attention snaps to you. The room fills with a tense silence as you stand in the doorway, a stack of cash in hand as they stare you down.

You speak first, eyes bouncing between the four nervously, “You’re not about to kill me, are you?”

That seems to break the tension as Ghost scoffs and the others relax.

“’Course not, Owl,” Soap rolls his eyes, reaching over to take the money from your hand and add it to a small pile sitting on Farah’s vanity. “Assumin’ the worst there, aren’t ya?”

“You send me a cryptic text telling me to meet you in the backrooms with a stack of cash and expect me not to be suspicious? This is how people get killed in horror movies,” you argue, shutting the door behind you.

“You still came, didn’t you?” Ghost counters.

“He has a point,” König shrugs, and Roach nods.

“Why am I here?” you ask flatly, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Right, so you know how Gaz’s birthday is comin’ up?” Soap speaks as he counts through the small pile of money.

You blink, asking, “It is?”

He hadn’t said anything to you. Would it be rude to ask him about it?

“Every year, we always try to get him something, y’know, from all of us,” Roach explains.

“But every year, Valeria and Alejandro always get him something extra just from them,” Soap huffs. “So, we started doin’ the same.”

“It’s become a bit of a competition now,” Ghost sighs, obviously not as enthused about this as Roach and Soap.

“Of course,” you hum. A little more relaxed now that you know why you’re here, you lean back against the door and ask, “So, what’re you getting him?”

“Oh,” König starts, “we were thinking of—”

Roach smacks his arm as Soap lets out a sharp whistle, shaking his head furiously when König turns to him.

“Really?” you scoff. “I gave you my money—”

“And we greatly appreciate your donation,” Soap says, turning to you with a sly grin and your cash in his hand. “As will Gaz, I’m sure.”

“What am I supposed to get him, then?”

“You’re a smart girl,” Soap teases, “’m sure you can figure that out on your own.”

“You’re not even gonna give me a hint?” You look to the others, but Ghost and Roach stay silent, König giving you an apologetic shrug. “Fine. Just know I’m not showing up next time you need something from me in the middle of the night.”

“Yeah, y’will,” Soap laughs.

He’s right, but he doesn’t need to know that right now.

“Whatever, keep your little secrets. I’m going home.”

“Night, Kiwi!” Soap calls as you leave the dressing room. You let the door swing closed behind you, but the thud of it shutting never happens. You turn back, finding König closing the door softly before he catches up to you.

“I’ll walk you out,” he says softly, glancing back to the dressing room. There’s something slightly off as König trails behind you, constantly looking over his shoulder—not like he’s nervous, but as if he’s about to do something he shouldn’t.

He holds the front door open for you, giving one last look over his shoulder.

You have to ask.

“Are you oka—”

König leans down, almost uncomfortably close, and mumbles, “He likes practical things.”

“What?”

“Mostly clothes, preferably socks. Oh, and food. Especially pastries.” König takes a small step forward, getting close enough that you can see tiny flecks of amber brown in his eyes.

“He has a big sweet tooth,” he whispers conspiratorially, and it clicks in your head.

“Oh,” you say as König steps back, leaning against the door. “Thank you.”

“Viel Glück.” König gives you a short nod, the edges of his mask rising with the apples of his cheeks as he smiles at you.

The drive back to your motel room is spent formulating a plan to figure out the specific day Kyle’s birthday falls on and what to get him. You spend more of the night trying to think than sleeping, doing your best to devise a way to ask him about it without sounding too obvious. It should be easy—getting information out of someone is nothing you haven’t done before—but Kyle’s sharper than he lets on. You’ll have to be a bit more careful this time.

You’re still thinking about it when you get to the club the next morning, so focused on your plan that you nearly run into Ghost as he steps out of Price’s office.

“Watch it,” he grumbles, wrapping a hand around your arm to steady you.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“Bit distracted this morning, are we?” You look up as Kyle walks out of the office behind Ghost, amused smile on his face.

“Didn’t get a lot of sleep,” you shrug, sending a quick, pointed look to Ghost, who stares back at you with his usual monotone expression.

“Been there,” Kyle chuckles, pulling his car keys from the pocket of his black jacket and handing them to Ghost.

“Going somewhere?” you ask.

“Doing something for the Boss,” Kyle winks.

“It’s a small business errand, nothing to worry about.” Ghost’s answer leaves no room for more questions, so you nod in acceptance.

“I’ll see you two later, then.” You watch them walk to the front and out of the club, waiting for the doors to click shut before you turn and slip inside the office. Price sits behind his desk, writing something in a small, black journal, and you grin at the sight.

Maybe you don’t have to talk to Kyle at all.

“Can I ask you a question?” you ask as you walk up to the desk. Price’s hand stills against the journal as he looks up at you in slight surprise. You’re sure you’re probably not supposed to be in here without being invited in, but you see how his eyes dip down over your form and decide that he probably doesn’t mind.

“Just the one?�� he smiles, setting his pen down to give you his full, undivided attention.

“Just the one, I promise,” you laugh, sitting in one of the chairs in front of the desk. “When’s Kyle’s birthday?”

The smile stays, but his brows draw together curiously, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Right, and which team are you asking this for?”

Ah, so he knows.

“Neither. I just wanted to get him something nice…and maybe get back at Soap for conning me out of my money.”

Price laughs at that, shaking his head as he leans back in his chair. It creaks softly, and you’re momentarily lost in the thought of how comfortable it looks.

It definitely looks like it could hold two people—

Stop.

Focus.

Kyle’s birthday.

“It’s next Thursday,” he says, breaking you out of your momentary distraction. “The club will be closed that night while we celebrate.”

That gives you eight days. You can work with that. All you have to do now is figure out what to get him.

And you’re sitting across from the one person who would know best.

“Do you have any hints for what I could get him?” you ask, giving your sweetest smile that he definitely sees straight through.

“That’s more than one question,” he chuckles.

“I mean, they both go together. Think of it as two halves to the same question.” You bat your lashes, keeping that tauntingly sweet smile aimed at him.

“So, you get an extra question,” he says, leaning forward and clasping his hands together atop the desk. He tilts his head, staring into your eyes, and purrs, “What do I get in return?”

“The satisfaction of helping out your favorite employee?” you tease, setting your elbows on the desk to lean toward him.

“You’re my favorite, are you?” he laughs softly, inching just a bit closer.

“You just said so yourself,” you grin. He hums, amused and impressed, a fondness in his eyes that sends a slight pang through your chest.

“He likes desserts,” Price tells you.

“Anything specific?” you press, slowly leaning forward until only a few inches are left between you.

“Careful now,” he warns, all silk and want and looking two seconds from jumping over the desk. “That’s a third question.”

You sit there for just a second, letting him watch your eyes fall to his lips as you lean a little closer before—

“You’re right,” you sigh dramatically, pulling back entirely, smug grin across your face. “I’m sure I can figure it out myself.”

“You’re a cruel woman,” he laughs, settling back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. You throw him a wink that earns you a playful roll of his eyes. Your phone chimes from your pocket, and when you check it, you find a message from Farah asking you to meet her backstage.

“Time for me to head out,” you sigh, standing from your chair. You turn to look at Price, giving him an earnest smile, “Thanks for the help. I appreciate it.”

“Anytime, Dove.”

You head toward the door as Price picks up his pen, ready to return to what he’d been working on before you came in.

“If you can bake,” Price calls out just as you grab the door handle, “try an apple sponge. It’s one of his favorites.”

You turn back to thank him, but he’s already focused on his work. You stash the information away in your mind, heading into the club to meet Farah with a wide grin.

(It takes a lot of trial and error in your motel room’s dingy little kitchen—little more than a hot plate and a mini fridge—but you’re eventually successful with a small apple sponge pudding the night before Kyle’s birthday.

When you present it to him, waiting until the party’s died down and everyone else is focused on something else, his eyes go glassy at the first taste. For a moment, you’re worried you’ve messed up the recipe, but he sets the plate down and wraps you in a tight hug.

“Used to make this with my mum,” he laughs into your shoulder, watery and sad and so, so appreciative. “Haven’t had one in years.”

He pulls away after a soft squeeze, his signature bright smile a little tighter than usual.

“Thank you, really.”

He goes back to the dessert, offering a couple of bites to his date, the woman who had worn the purple and teal dresses and whose name you’ve learned is Tabby.

You glance up from the happy couple, eyes roving over the rest of the party until you catch eyes with Price. He grins, winking at you, before returning to his conversation with Nik and Alex.

You don’t know how you’ll thank him, but you have a few ideas.)

-

“Are you busy tomorrow night?”

You nearly jump out of your skin as Price startles you, not only with his question but also with his sudden appearance at your side.

The club is closed for the week—you’re not told why—but you still come in to clean in the mornings. You’d been enjoying your small break at the bar, scrolling through your phone absentmindedly.

You thought you were alone, but apparently not.

“Not that I know of,” you say, trying to calm the jittering of your nerves. “Why?”

“Would you like to have dinner?”

Your mind blanks.

Your heart skips a beat, stunned at the idea that he might actually be asking you out and even more stunned by the instant yes that sits on the tip of your tongue.

“I—”

“We’re having a small get-together for whoever wants to come.”

There’s a painful squeeze in your chest that you’re forced to ignore, and you do your best to cover the sting with a smile.

“Sure! Sounds fun.”

“Perfect.” He smiles back wide, leaning forward to press a kiss to the top of your head before turning and walking away. “I’ll have Gaz send you the address,” he calls over his shoulder before disappearing into his office.

You stand there, staring at his office doors, doing everything you can to quell the sudden heat flooding your body.

You add extra ice to your water and bury yourself in your work as a poor distraction.

Kyle texts you the address that night, along with a message telling you not to come into work the next day, and a single sentence after that reads: Wear something blue :).

You sleep in the next morning—the first time in years—taking your time to go through your clothes and get ready. Your wardrobe is limited—all of the outfits Valeria’s had made for you sitting in the dressing room at the club.

Those would probably be too formal anyways.

You decide on your usual jeans and boots, but dig out a lighter shirt—more grey than blue, but passable—to wear under your black sweater. It’ll have to work as you spend the rest of your time fixing your hair, relaxing, and singing along to the music on your phone.

You leave an hour early, still unfamiliar with the city streets outside your commute to and from the club. The directions are simple enough to follow, your phone’s GPS taking you through the city easily, but after almost twenty minutes, you take a turn and realize you’re being led out of the city.

The drive is almost peaceful, the bustle of the city melting away into broad open landscape then into large trees filled with lush greenery. You’re directed to an off-road leading deeper into the thicket, your car protesting as it leaves the pavement and starts down the dirt road.

It takes half an hour of driving through solid forest before the trees around you begin to thin, and the dirt road slowly turns to gravel, then to smooth stone. The road curves and winds through the trees before you take a sharp turn, and you catch sight of the house.

No, house isn’t the right word. Manor would be more accurate.

The car comes to a halt as you hit the brakes, hands tightening around your steering wheel until your nails dig into the heels of your palms.

A sprawling estate surrounded by lush greenery that grows up the front of the house, you’re reminded of your family’s old summer home. That house hadn’t been nearly as big as this, but Price’s manor carries the same quaint feeling you remember having every time your father took you on vacation at the summer home.

The knot that grows in your throat is sudden, the rush of nostalgia slamming into you without warning.

The last time you had been to that old house was for your wedding.

You still remember the smell of lilacs and sweet peas that drifted up from the beautifully decorated courtyard into the bridal suite, the gorgeous bespoke gown that had once been your mother’s—gifted to you by your father as your something borrowed—and the beaming smile you carried for the entire day.

The last good day you remember having in your old life.

That’s over now, you remind yourself. You’re safe here.

You take a deep breath, loosening your grip on the steering wheel and easing off the brake. You drive slowly, taking in the beautifully laid out gardens around the front of the manor, trying to push down the painful fondness that stabs at your heart.

You park behind the various cars at the end of the driveway, locking your car behind you just once before making your way to the front doors.

Just like the club, they’re unlocked.

As soon as you walk in, you’re hit with a delicious smell and the sounds of quiet laughter. You follow the noise, taking in the interior of the house. It’s homey, understated, downright cozy, and somehow fitting for what you’d imagine as Price’s home.

“Look who it is!” Alex cheers as you walk into a sitting room. He sits on one of the couches, an arm draped across the back and around Farah. Across from them is Kyle, spread out on the other couch, busy typing away on his phone, his feet almost in Nik’s lap. You’ve never seen them so dressed down before, all in some type of hoodie, sweater, sweats combination—or pajama pants in Nik’s case.

Farah and Nik give you the same eager greeting, but Kyle continues on his phone, ignoring your presence entirely.

“Don’t mind him,” Farah scoffs. “He’s too busy with his new girlfriend.”

“It’s no problem,” you laugh, looking around the room. Farah watches you, smirk plastered on her face.

“The old man’s in the kitchen,” she says, nodding toward the other side of the room. Alex and Nik bite back their laughs, and you choose to ignore them.

“Thanks, Farah.” She nods, and you head in the direction she gives you. You head in the direction she gives you, passing through the dining room before you’re able to find the kitchen.

It’s not exactly like the one from your old summer home, but it’s damn close—spacious yet comfortable, all earth-toned and welcoming—and it’s a fight to swallow down the knot in your throat.

“You’re here!”

You’re pulled out of your thoughts as Price catches sight of you, setting down the knife in his hand and making his way over to you. You’ve never seen him in a sweater before, but you know how you’d kill to see him in one again. Like the others, he’s dressed down from his usual club attire: a deep maroon sweater with rolled sleeves, jeans, and a black apron with small spots of flour across it.

“Yeah, didn’t want to miss out on seeing my boss in an apron,” you joke as he pulls you into a hug, followed by a kiss on the head. You let yourself melt into him, missing his warmth the minute he pulls away.

“You can have a drink and wait with the others if you want. Grab whatever you want from the fridge,” he says, heading back to his station.

“Actually,” you take a deep breath, setting your hands on the island counter, “I was wondering if there was anything I could help with?”

He seems surprised at the offer, brows raised as he looks up at you. But the surprise is quickly replaced with a fond smile.

“You any good at chopping vegetables?” he asks.

“The best,” you tease, inching your way over to him, giving him time to tell you no.

“You can take over here, then.”

He takes a step back, and you take his place, picking the knife up from the cutting board. You’re about to start when you feel his hands settle on your hips and his lips brushing against the skin of your neck. You tilt your head automatically, pressing back into him as he murmurs a quiet, “Thank you.” He pulls away immediately after, leaving you to your work.

Time flies by, the two of you work almost seamlessly together in the kitchen. You laugh and joke and enjoy as Price takes every opportunity to put his hands on you. Small, teasing touches, but they send your heart racing each and every time, and soon you find yourself returning the favor.

By the time the food’s ready, you’ve shed your sweater, the kitchen heat, and the man next to you far too much for you. You take it in stride, having more fun than you’ve had in a long time and allowing yourself to enjoy this moment.

Dinner passes by equally as fun, feeling like those rare dinners you got to have with your father—just you and him, just family.

The others bid their goodbye, Alex and Farah heading home after dishes are done, Nik heading upstairs to one of the many spare rooms, and Kyle leaving to meet Tabby at her place. You help clean, waiting until everything is spotless to take your leave. Price walks you to the door, hand on the small of your back the entire walk.

“You know,” he says as you reach the front door, “you could stay here for the night.”

“What? You mean you don’t want to come back to mine?” you tease, lightly nudging him with your elbow. When he doesn’t laugh, you still worry creeping up your spine.

Please, don’t ask me to “repay” you for dinner.

Please, don’t ask me to “repay” you for dinner.

Please, don’t ask me to “repay” you for dinner.

“There’s plenty of room here,” he says quietly, pulling his hand from your back so he can turn to face. “I just—I’d sleep better knowing you were somewhere…safer.”

Oh. Oh.

You don’t know how you can possibly feel more endeared than you do in this moment, the worry so genuine on his face.

“It’s not that bad. I’ve been fine so far,” you offer, voice soft as you set a hand on his arm. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, wrapping his hand around yours, “There’s always room for you here if you ever change your mind.”

“Thank you.”

And even if you don’t take up the offer now, you mean it with all your heart.

-

Summer nears its end when you find a sleek red box sitting atop your vanity that was definitely not there before you went on stage.

A small white card with your name written on the front rests on top of the box, a handwritten note with an address and a date for Saturday afternoon. You don’t recognize the address or the handwriting, so you set the card aside cautiously, sliding your fingers under the box lid.

You lift the lid, curiosity winning out over your caution.

Laying inside, pristinely folded, is a dress. A very beautiful, pale dress covered in pale blue columbine flowers. You run your fingers along the fabric, admiring the softness of the organza against your skin.

What is this for?

You wrack your brain trying to think of any upcoming birthdays or events, but nothing comes to mind. You’re sure you’d know; things like that are usually a big deal for the club.

You’re left wondering as someone knocks on the dressing room door. You quickly put the lid back on the box, tucking the card into the pocket of your jacket draped over the back of your chair.

When you leave for the night, you take the box back to the motel room, setting it on top of the duffle bag that holds your clothes, where it sits untouched for the rest of the week.

When Saturday comes, you wake up an hour before your alarm and head straight for the box. You set it on the bed and spend the morning getting ready with a long, room-temperature shower.

A small voice nags in the back of your mind as you stand in your underwear, staring down at the box on your bed. You’re excited and nervous, eager to try on the dress but unsure of what to expect from all of this.

The last time someone surprised you with a dress…

You shake the thoughts from your head, pulling the lid from the box, lifting the dress out, and finding a pair of nude flats lying at the bottom.

It’s long and light, made of a soft, airy material that falls to the ground with short, sheer puffy sleeves and a slit up to the knee. You have no trouble putting it on, the smooth silk gliding against your skin in a fit so perfect that you immediately think this must be Valeria’s doing.

You twirl, watching the material fan out with a wide smile. You leave the shoes in the box while you fix your hair, putting in the effort to get your hair just right and make yourself look as good as the dress makes you feel.

When you’re done, and looking far more stunning than you anticipated, you slip on the shoes and grab your keys.

You head out to your car in the early afternoon, pulling up the address on your phone. Your destination is just outside the city, opposite from where you are. It doesn’t take long, even in the afternoon traffic, and it ends with you pulling up to a large house with a driveway full of familiar cars.

You park behind Kyle’s car, giving yourself one last look in your slightly crooked rearview mirror.

When you step out of your car, you’re instantly met with music and laughter echoing from the backyard. You follow the path up to the front door, knocking twice as you admire the front garden.

The house is far enough out of the city to not be near anyone else but close enough to not have to drive an hour to get to the club like Price’s. Large, spacious, and a yard covered in different types of flowers.

A sharp whistle startles you as you take in how well taken care of the daisies look.

“Canary!” You step back from the door, looking across the driveway where Kyle stands, waving his hands at you, Roach next to him, holding open a gate that you assume leads to the backyard.

It’s weird to see them out of their standard black, but the bright summer colors fit them just as well. You make your way over, Kyle meeting you halfway to pull you into a hug.

“Glad you make it!”

“Me too!” you laugh, following him to the gate so you can hug Roach. “What’s the occasion?”

“Occasion?” Roach asks, holding the gate open with his foot so he can sign to you.

“It’s just a party,” Kyle says with a curious tilt of his head. “Valeria didn’t tell you?”

“Why would she tell me?”

“Because it’s her house?” Roach blinks.

“No one told me anything. I found a card with a time and place sitting on my vanity. And this—” you gesture to the dress, “—with it.”

“That’s one way to invite you, I guess,” Kyle shrugs, throwing an arm around your shoulders with an easy smile. “Either way, we’re glad you’re here.”

He and Roach lead you into the backyard, equally beautiful as the front, with tall trees providing shade and a large pool in the center. The entire club is here. Alejandro and Alex stand near the grill, laughing and passing jokes while the rest of the club is gathered at the few tables set up in the shade near the back doors to the house.

Valeria spots you instantly, making her way over with a wide grin. Kyle slides his arm from your shoulders as she gets close, and she pulls you into a quick hug.

“You made it!” she cheers, taking a step back and giving you an appreciative once over. “And you look fantastic! I’m proud of you.”

“It wasn’t all me,” you say, a little shy under the praise. “Thank you for the dress, by the way.”

“Hm?” Valeria raises a brow. “Well, it is lovely, and the blue’s a nice touch, but it’s not one of mine.”

“What?”

If it wasn’t her, then…who?

You look around the yard, glancing over the rest of your friends and coworkers. They all seem busy talking, laughing, enjoying themselves.

All except for one, John Price, who’s sitting between Ghost and König, wearing a pale blue shirt to match the color of the flowers on your dress and staring at you with an intensity that sets your skin alight.

“Oh,” Valeria laughs, following your gaze.

“Explains the blue,” Kyle snickers, nudging your arm with his elbow.

You pull your eyes away from Price to smack Kyle in the chest. You’re met with laughter from the three of them, covering your face with your hands in a poor attempt to cool the heat in your cheeks.

“I hate all of you,” you grumble, their laughter growing as you head for the tables. You do your best to smile and not appear as flustered as you are, returning hellos and hugs as everyone notices you. When you reach the back table, Ghost nods in greeting while König stands to hug you. However, when he pulls away from you, he pulls out the chair he’d been sitting in and gestures for you to sit.

“You don’t have to—”

“I have to help Alex soon, anyway,” König shrugs.

“Okay, then,” you smile, taking the seat, turning to add a quick thank you before he leaves for the grill.

“You look lovely,” Price says the moment you turn back to the table. “Blue suits you.”

Ghost doesn’t speak, simply picking up his glass and sitting next to Soap at the table across from yours.

“Like this color, do you?” you ask, setting your elbows on the table to lace your fingers together and set your chin atop them, smiling at him with a raised brow.

“You could say I’m partial to it,” he shrugs casually, eyes trailing down the expanse of your leg exposed through the slit of your dress. “Especially on certain people.”

You can’t help but giggle, shaking your head as you lean back in your chair.

You take a moment to feel the warmth from the sun, cooled by the gentle summer breeze carrying a soft bite of autumn’s inevitable chill.

You don’t remember the last time you could simply enjoy a day outside.

“Thank you, by the way,” you speak up, turning to Price with a soft smile. “You didn’t have to get me a dress, but I appreciate it.”

“Not a fan of gifts?” he asks, an unusual hesitance in his voice.

“I like them. I’m just…not used to them, I guess.”

Or ones that don’t come with ulterior motives, anyway.

He stares at you for a brief second before his hand slides across the table to settle over you with a light squeeze. “Think you better get used to it then, love. There’s plenty more where that came from.”

You huff a quiet laugh, shaking your head at the smug grin on Price’s face.

“I’m not going to be able to talk you out of that, am I?”

“Not at all,” he laughs, and you laugh along, turning your hand over to lace your fingers through his.

You give a soft squeeze of his hand, soaking up the warmth from his hand, “Price, I—”

“Sparrow, get over here! We’re starting karaoke!” You turn as Soap yells from his table.

“In a minute!” you call back.

“Fine, but I’m pickin’ your song!”

Price chuckles next to you, releasing your hand. Disappointment swells in your chest before his hand reaches your bare knee. “Go have fun. We can talk later,” he smiles.

You nod, and he lets his hand linger a second longer before pulling away as you stand up. You adjust your dress before glancing over to Price. As soon as the idea comes to your head, you act. Setting a hand on his shoulder, you lean down to press a kiss to his cheek before whispering into his ear your promise of later.

You step away quickly, making your way over to the rest of your friends, looking back only once to catch Price’s eyes. He sends you a wink, standing from his chair to join Alex, Alejandro, and König.

You don’t know what later entails, but you’re certainly looking forward to it.

-

Everything changes at the beginning of autumn when you return to your motel room exhausted from an incredibly long week.

You don’t take notice of the new car that sits in the usually empty parking lot.

Or how your door doesn’t click when you turn the key.

Or that your duffel bag sits open on top of your bed, instead of under it like you’d left it that morning.

If your father had been here, he would’ve killed you being so careless, for letting your guard down so much.

But the man who’s broken into your room takes up the job for him, waiting until you reach the bathroom door to shove his way out and tackle you to the floor. You don’t get the chance to scream as your head slams into the floor, and your vision goes blurry.

You feel his weight over you as he tries to grab at your arms, words coming out of his mouth that your fuzzy brain can’t process right now. He gets frustrated, hands wrapping around your neck before they squeeze, and your neck burns.

You squirm and push, fighting back with everything you have until you can land a kick to his stomach that sends him stumbling to the side.

You roll onto your stomach, stumbling to push yourself up to your feet. You make it to your dresser before a meaty hand wraps around your ankle and yanks.

You're sent back to the grab, scrabbling to grab hold of anything you can on the dresser. Your hand catches something, and you wrap your fist around it on the way down, waiting until the man tries to climb over you again before you swing.

You make contact with him, the object in your hand causing an audible crack against his head. He falls over, and instinct takes over. You swing again, then one more time before you toss the object aside—it's the table lamp that never worked, now that you're given time to look at it—and scoot back until your back is pressed against the foot of your bed.

It takes a minute before your vision can fully focus, and you process the man lying on your floor, blood pooling out from the cracked open dent in his head.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

You don't know what else to do, going straight for your phone. Your eyes glassy, you struggle to find the contact you need and gulp down as much air as you can while it rings.

"Hello?"

I'm sorry to bother you. Please, don't be mad.

"H-Hey. I—I um—"

You can't get words around, lungs constricting too fast to get air in.

"Canary? Are you okay?"

"I don't—I don't know what—what happened. I—"

"Breathe, love. Where are you?"

"He at—he attacked me. I didn't mean to—I didn't—"

You hear conversation in the background, multiple voices.

"Are you at home?"

"I—"

"Yes or no, love."

"Y—yes."

"Stay there, okay?"

"Okay."

You don't mean to hang up, but your hands are too shaky, and you hit end call button trying to put Price on speaker.

You don't know how long you sit there, hyperventilating as you stare at the man bleeding out on your floor. Minutes? Hours? You have no way to tell; time passes too quickly yet drags second by second.

You don't hear your door open or the soft call of your name, but you do feel the hand on your shoulder.

"No!" You try to pull away, but the person moves in front of you, and you go into full panic mode.

"Stop, it's me. It's me. It's okay. It's me, love."

Two warm hands settle on either side of your face, turning you to look forward, where you find Price on his knees in front of you, concern etched deep into his features.

"I—he tried to—"

His hands fall from your face, instead wrapping around you to pull you into him. You go easily, tucking yourself against him, against the familiar comfort as the knot swells in your throat and the dam finally breaks.

"Shh, it's okay," Price coos into your hair. "I've got you. You're safe."

Despite the circumstances, you believe him.

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[bonnymori]

𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐲

Word count: 2760+ (i'll try to keep bigger lengths such as this one!)

Synopsis: You meet a new classmate who's working along Nanami, you think he's fun to be around, it stands the same to him about you. Later, feelings unravel.

Contents/Warnings: (1) Itadori Yuuji x gn!reader (2) FLUFF, TONS OF FLUFF - and some comfort (3) With the small participation of... Ino Takuma!! I really like him too, that's why <33333 (4) This is pretty platonic, but also not? (5) Ending turned sorta cliché... but I liked it u.u

A/N: This boy made me run rampant... to fhe point it's not single attraction anymore I just wish him happiness (smh if only my parents knew...) also next post will be Toji's fic pt. 2! Y'all see the first part is almost reaching 100 kudos????? I'M SO HAPPY EHSODJWKDKSJD- thanks for all the new followers and the support!! <33

Ever since his fake death, Itadori has been training alone with the help of Gojo - and now, he works along a freshly new face, who belongs to a senior, founds out ex-salaryman named Nanami Kento. He's far a thousand times more strict than Gojo. Itadori doesn't really likes the change, because Nanami is a person he can't get along. This whole guy's appearance scream "work 4 life"; he has proved different, now he screams "work is shit - but I gotta do it because others won't".

They've just finished cleansing the outside of a movie theater off a few curses, when Itadori hears shouting from far behind them. Two figures approach, waving excessively. He quickly picks on Nanami's tired sigh beside him.

"Nanami! We figured out you'd be here! Our mission has been finished and we wanted to catch up to have lunch together!" A male clad in a full black outfit shouts, he has brown hair and a beanie on top of his head, looking quite content.

The other person simply trots next to him in silence, approaching with a friendly smile. They notice Itadori faster than the male, smile widening and quickly waving hello, suddenly eager to reach up to them. The gesture makes the pink haired boy perk up, curious to why the other person looked so joyful. His question is easily answered, when they tug on the man's sleeve and motion to him.

"Ino, we have a third buddy!" The dude looks at him with widened eyes. "So nice to meet you, I'm Y/N L/N! It's great to see new faces around!"

Itadori smiles at your energy, knowing already he would click with you very well.

"I'm Ino Takuma, sorry for not noticing you before! Your uniform looks cool." Itadori exchanges a few compliments with Ino, before the man turns to talk with Nanami, leaving him and you together.

"Yes! I'm Sukuna's vessel, Itadori Yuuji-desu! My type of woman is Jenn-"

You turn to him. "So, are you a first year?"

"Geh? Weren't you dead though?!"

"I was!- I am!- Please keep secret."

"Okay!"

"Ahem." Nanami coughs, drawing attention. "I requested you two to not come after me today. Itadori here is the reason why."

"That's no problem, we're very capable of keeping secrets." You threw your arm over Itadori's shoulder, him nodding along with you.

"Oh really, then remember to keep quiet about it. I'll let this slide." The group of students nervously at Nanami's intimidating tone. "But, I'll get to have my break alone."

"Gah!" Ino exclaimed, watching Nanami walk away; he also left the responsability of taking care of Itadori for you two, leaving without a word. "It really had to be today, when Nanami would take us to his favorite bakery..."

"Crybaby." You teased. "Itadori here can't go outside where anyone can see him, he's dead. So, we were to order food either way because he shouldn't be left out."

"Augh okay, it would be unfair."

"So, where are you staying Itadori?"

"At Gojo's state!"

"Whoa, I've never been there before." Ino commented, waiting as you sent a message to Ijichi to pick them up.

"He's my teacher, a very cool one!"

"I imagine! Ooookay, once we get there I'll get the food."

Itadori felt as his chest would burst of excitement, finally there was people around him again, he couldn't be less happy about it.

"Sharing is caring!"

Itadori laughed as you wrestled with Takuma for some fries, netflix long forgotten in the background, as watching the banter was way more entertaining. Most of the time, Ino rambled a lot about Nanami, while he rambled a lot about Gojo. The guy even showed him the cool scar under his beanie. He felt kinda upset after explaining the exchange was just temporary, his stay under Nanami's wing wasn't decisive, and therefore, he was more like a classmate than a partner.

Itadori also learned a lot about you. He was surprised to find out that you, although energetic, was the one to speak the lesser in conversations. His surprisement grew even bigger when you told him you're a exchange student from Kyoto, arriving Tokyo about the same month as him - thankfully, you were to say for good.

Conversations flowed easily in the air, until a voice from the doorway barged in.

"Yuuji-kun! Don't forget about your lessons! Hi kids! Bye kids!" Gojo said playfully, throwing the familiar punching bear to Itadori before leaving.

"What's this thing?" Ino asked.

"It's to help me control my cursed energy. So while I watch the movies, if I don't charge it with cursed energy it punches me square in the face. I thought I had mastered this thing already, but he insist I keep training with it." Itadori grumbles.

"At least it's cute." You commented, taking a sip of your drink.

"Until it punches you in your face without warning!" The pink haired boy barks.

The talks died down, the three of you eating quietly when another movie is played on the screen. Itadori didn't bother reading the title, it was a plain one about a zombie apocalypse that got him extremely bored, yet he kept watching still so the plushie didn't punch him in the face again; he's been keeping a record since all his last cursed energy training lessons were a sucess to this day. When his head started nodding and eyelids dropping Itadori can't remember well, about fourty five minutes of movie perhaps? Make it fifty, the second slumber took over his body completely.

When he awoke once again, it was near midnight, the clock on the wall told him so. He also noticed a soft and warm surface supporting his head, figures, it's your shoulder he's resting into, he feels an arm around his own shoulders and your cheek placed upon his hair.

"Hey, it's late." You immediately notices he's awake, calling out softly. "You should sleep on your room, or something, better to your spine."

He chuckles when you poke his side. "But I'm comfortable here."

"I'm surprised, you just met me today, and now is sleeping on my shoulder."

"I'm not, that happens often to me."

"Sleeping on people's shoulders?"

"No! Making friends quickly." Itadori likes your gentle warmth, your hug, everything makes him feel at home. "I met two more people before you for two weeks, but they can't see me, because I'm dead."

"So I'll keep you company, that's my new mission."

His eyes widen at that, a oh so little blush covering the tip of his ears.

"For how many time I slept anyway?" He asks.

"About two- no, three hours. You missed two movies, and this one is about to end."

"And you stayed here the whole time?" He motions to your shoulder.

"Yep. That reminds me I gotta pee."

Itadori grumbles, but quickly lifts himself off you, respecting your needs. That gives him some time to look around, he notices Ino is gone, and the plushie sits quietly at the other side of the couch, unmoving.

"Y/N! How did you manage to make it quiet down?" He's beyond bafflet.

"...que."

"What!"

"I said!" You arrive quickly at the doorframe, hands still wet from when you washed them. "I used my innate technique."

"Oh! How is it like?"

"It's kinda funny, gimme a moment." You left to wipe off your hands, coming back in a second. "So, just like Shoko, I produce reverse curse energy, but it's quite different than hers, I can't heal people. That's why we often call it positive energy instead. I can use it to soothe off negative energy, so the bear has no cursed energy right now."

"How does it works on people?" He felt very curious about everything, asking away like a kid.

"Since everyone has negative energy, it just makes you sleepy really. But when it comes to curses it's really practical, I can either weaken it or, if the curse is like grade three or four, I can slap them off existence completely by wiping all their energy." You were naturally proud of having a such versatile power, your own energy swirling with pride around you.

"That sounds amazing! Is it why I fell asleep though?"

"Nah, only if I did it on purpose. I guess you were just tired, hope you don't mind I decided to let you rest today."

"No way, it was a good nap."

You nodded. "By the way, Ino left to attend to a drinking party, he paid for our food."

"Drinking? Is he old?"

"Yeah, he's twenty." You chuckled, already expecting that kind of reaction.

"No way! He looks young just like us!"

"That's totally my reaction after I learned he's twenty!"

After that day, you started visiting Itadori weekly to daily, after exchanging numbers he made a little group with you and Ino, naming it the "Nanami trio". But really, he exchanges more texts with you in private, be them memes, cool images he wish to share, etcetera. Although, Ino wasn't left excluded, he ofter brough his xbox to connect to Itadori's tv room and you all would spend hours playing together; he just didn't spend much time with both of you as much. And that was okay.

For a few days, your connection with Itadori died down when he didn't reply to your texts. They would remain unread for some time, the longest being half a day, until he would spam apologies then move on with the topic. That became a routine until one day when you came over to check on Itadori unnanounced, needin to ease off your worries about the boy, only to find him sobbing in the middle of a hallway, staring ahead and beyond, his back to you.

"Ita-?"

"Egh!" Startled, he scrambled to wipe his eyes, turning to you. "H-hey, um, hi."

"What happened?"

"I- he-" His eyes didn't met yours, knuckles white in a death grip. You notice he has a few bandages thrown over his face and arms. The way his shoulders are drawn, as if he wants to shrink into himself is something you've experienced before.

"Something hard to talk about?"

He nods almost immediately, head still facing down.

"It's alright, come with me." You reach for his hands, grimacing slightly when his forceful grip is now on your hand, yet you don't comment on it. He follows you through the state wordlessly.

You two stop on the same tv room, sitting down on the couch. You then guide his head to your shoulder, gently massaging his scalp with the free hand.

"It's alright."

Those two words are chanted like a prayer for the next half hour, at some point, Itadori twisted his body towards yours and unknowingly caged you between him and the sofa arm. He embraced you with a force you didn't have in you, like he didn't want to lose one another. Painful or not, not a muscle moved on your body. He needed a shoulder to cry on.

Thirty minutes passed like seconds, you peered down only to find the boy confortably napping against your bosom; at some point you just became the cold side of the pillow to him. That's alright. It brings you joy to be the mom friend anyways. So you decided to join the sleepland aswell, arms still secured around his shoulders and the back of his head.

It feels like the nap hasn't been long, though, because you can feel Itadori's grip loosening and therefore, you're awake.

"Sorry if I broke any bones, in advance."

"Wow, and you only warn me now."

He laughs at your comeback, hands still secured around your waist.

"I'm surprised you let me uh, cuddle you for comfort - and sleep. I don't understand it? You just make me sleepy." He rambled, keeping eye contact with you while his head still rests on your chest.

"That's a piece of cake when you have younger siblings who seek for you every night they get a nightmare."

"Does that mean I can come to you again if I have a nightmare?" There it is, his togepi-kirby cutesy face.

"Are you four?"

"That's mean!" Itadori blushed, squeezing you on his arms. "I like the contact. It puts me at ease."

"Mm, do you want to talk about it?"

He gulped. "No, not really."

Your peach haired friend remained silent, and so did you. It seems he doesn't intend in letting you go soon, or he just really forgot to mention it. It gives them time to think, your younger sisted used to do that sometimes, back in Kyoto.

"Y/N, wanna watch anything?"

"Sure, have you watched Parasyte before?"

"No, let's give it a try then!" Itadori glances at the remote, then back at you - making you confused over his hesitation to move. He notices you noticed it, chuckling nervously. "To be honest, I don't wanna let go."

"It's hurting my back."

"SORRY I'M SORRY!" He jumped away from you like a cat would jolt away from a cucumber, making you snicker.

"It's okay, I just wanted to change positions."

And to tease you, but he didn't need to know that part.

He glared at you with a small pout, typing the initials of Parasyte on the search bar. Outside his line of vision, you were grinning like a idiot, his sweeteness took a tow on you. All the people of Tokyo you met really held a way different spirit from your classmates in Kyoto, Itadori being the nicest of all. It's surprising him being Sukuna's vessel to begin with; being honest, you felt drawn by it.

"Y/N, it's startiiiiing." He cut your daydreaming short, slumping on your side and propping his head on your shoulder.

"This again?" You throw an arm around his shoulders, very much like the first time he cuddled himself on you.

"Don't blame me, you're the one who wanted to change positions. Guess I'll just make some alterations since I'm awake this time!" One of his arms went behind your back and circled your waist, hand resting at your hip.

"It's definely different, since the other time you drooled on me."

"Hhgh, okay okay! Let me enjoy this." For perhaps the actual first time, you're able to watch without exchanging words with one another.

And this time, it's you who's head loll to the side, nose buried on his soft rose perfumed hair. Itadori doesn't comment on it yet, his free hand moves under your legs to lift your whole body up efortlessly when he senses you have fallen asleep.

"I remember you said it's bad for my spine, I wouldn't mind it... yours however."

The boy makes a beeline to the guest room, he sighs when there is no choice but open the door with his foot. Inside, he places you carefully in the soft bed.

Before he could leave, a hand reaches up for his sleeve.

"Itadori," He turned, looking at you. "Make me company?"

He giggles softly - you think it sounds like a highschool girl. "You should start calling me by my first name!" Itadori rambles as he climbs on the bed, arms wrapping around your waist in a motion you're familiar with.

"Yuuji, I'm tired, let me sleep."

"But I wanna talk more..." He pouts. "Also, are we, um, dating?"

You wriggle around, bringing his head down to peck on his forehead, teasing. "Correction, I want to date you."

"Uh, oh." A blush coats his face so quickly, you'd say someone dumped a bucket of red paint on his face.

"Is that a no?"

"No!"

"So it is a no."

"Christ, will you stop teasing for a second, I'm trying to talk here." He makes an angry version of his togepi-kirby face, you can't help but grin.

"You amuse me, but okay. I'll do it for you."

"Thanks." He blinks, the blush slowly fading away. "You know, I lied, not about the contact, I like the contact nonetheless-"

His hand moves to play with yours, such as tapping his tips against yours, or meassuring the palms.

"-it's you who brings me comfort."

It's also your turn to blush, that line was seriously charming.

"Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"Yes, we're dating now." You respond, a little eagerly. "Can I kiss you?"

"Please."

This is the best person I could ask for, Itadori thinks, keeping his eyes open as yours shut during the kiss, whom I won't change for anything else in this world.

When you both separate, Itadori feels drowsy and sleepy. His face fits perfectly on your shoulder as always.

"Goodnight, my favorite person."

[heyovivi]

THIS IS EMBARRASSING

Okay this is...troubling. Only because I know from @yazthebookish that this specific user is especially problematic within the ACOTAR community. So this comment was made on a Gwynriel TikTok (cardans.tail (lmao the name 😂)). So basically, the TikToker made a video using a sound and comparing that sound to some of the colorful language that some E/riels call her, not the good Elriels but the toxic E/lriels. And then this specific user commented this ^.

And wow. Like I had no idea I was a racist or a misogynists. I also had no idea that that any of mutuals were because honestly my mutuals seem like very lovely people.

Now this comment got over a hundred comments already and most of it is this toxic E/riel trying to defend herself against Gwynriels. And her defense is also toxic.

Now I do appreciate those who stood neutral in this conversation, and agree that both sides have their own share of toxicity, but that isn't to say that all sides are bad. I know for a fact there are good Elriels out there and I will respect them as they respect me. But when I see posts like this:

Like I personally don't have a problem with the fact that this person is not Brazilian. Like I don't think that has anything to do with me, it feels like that kind of a heritage thing and doesn't have anything to do with this fandom. But I did hear that a few E/riels did call the Gwynriels from Brazil "mutts" so I suppose if this specific anti weren't apart of the legion of haters then they shouldn't warrant such hate. But also, as this person commenting against this anti said that this person has a habit of hunting through social media and attacking our side of the fandom relentlessly. And even if they aren't active on Tumblr they didn't deny that they still attacking Gwynriels on Twitter.

And even if this person is not playing victim (which they kind've are) their "truth" is their opinion. Their vicious opinions that result in harassment against a certain party of mutuals.

Oh this poor, misguided soul. Kudos for this user for keeping up with the argument, I'm amazed how you can deal with such...troubling people. This poor, lost, confused anti must've been blind to all the hate comments that Steph received. The whole point of the live was not to confirm their ship (like how a bunch of E/riels wanted) but it was mostly to catch up and discuss the new release of Crescent City 2. Yes there were snippets of Azriel and ONE question about Gwyn (because again, toxic E/riels are convinced that Gwynriel is a pedophilic ship), but you shouldn't be pressed about there not being any questions about Elain. Elain was a present in four books prior so I'm sure in the lives for those books there were plenty of questions about her. As for Gwyn, she is a completely new character and I can't believe that instead of getting insight into her character Steph and SJM felt the need to confirm her age so Gwynriels could feel like their own ship was less problematic.

This kinda explains itself so no further word on this argument.

Yes, there are many sides to this fandom that are extremely toxic. All the Gwynriels I found on Tumblr have been extremely nice and caring people. They are very supportive and protective of their ship and as long as you don’t poke them there shouldn’t be a problem. But if you poke them then they come at you with textual and cited evidence. And believe me there is enough evidence to prove that this anti is a bully and harasses many Gwynriels and Eluciens

The fact that their only argument is that Gwynriels are racists and misogynists probably means that they don’t have any real argument and this is a more personalized matter. Because no, on this side of the fandom we are not misogynists. We want both Elain and Gwyn to grow into beautiful empowering female characters. Elain can branch out into her own person. She isn’t just Feyre’s gardener she can expanse into being more than that. She has potential. And Gwyn isn't Azriel’s booty call. Her existence isn’t simply tailored to being Az’s love interest for us. Gwyn stans are all interested in her journey of self-healing and self-discovery. It was hinted multiple times that her part in the books is bigger than what we realize and who knows. Maybe her role is going to Spring Court and bringing Tamlin back to his senses. Or maybe her role is finding her family in Autumn Court. We don’t know. It’s not misogynistic to think that these beautiful female leads can grow into strong and independent characters. They aren’t just Azriel’s love interests they also have their own journeys ahead of them as well

I try to stay away from the E/riel side because, well, it’s what I expect the Court of Nightmares to be amongst this fandom. But never have I once came across E/riels who try to defend Gwyn’s assault. Instead I see them arguing that the fact she went back to the library after the Blood Rite is a sign that she and Azriel aren’t going to be endgame. Ummmm Gwyn risked her life in a vicious trial where she had to be kidnapped, drugged, and then had to fight for her life in order not to be killed and raped. Of course she went back to the library. But that doesn’t mean she isn’t going to get her own healing journey. And just because we ship her with Azriel, write NSFW fan fiction and draw NSFW art doesn’t mean we are invalidating her trauma. A large part of why I ship Gwynriel is because I see the tremendous potential between them. Though I’m not against them have their own separate journeys of healing I also feel like they can help rise each other up.

And also it’s not like SA survivors can’t heal from experiences and have sex ever again. In fact, a lot of survivors find healing in sex because it’s a sign that they refound their own control of their bodies and accept themselves and can move on healthily. Many Gwynriels can identify with Gwyn and this ship because of their own experiences in their lives and artists such of myself incorporate the more intimate parts of this ship because we identify with those moments and like to envision that moment where Gwyn can finally accept herself and her more intimate side.

The rest of the comments are just back and forth arguing but for the most part it is clear that this fandom needs to grow up. Stop the bullying, stop the hate comments, stop everything. The post on TikTok was to show that this person was being bullied for simply liking a ship and how did it end? With both sides trying to justify themselves. Bullying and harassment shouldn’t be justified. I shouldn’t have to see why talented artists like @vmiae have to explain themselves or why an entire community are being accountable for one or two people’s actions. One person doesn’t speak for all. This person clearly did not get the message and we can only hope that they learns the truth and isn’t just speaking from their own opinion.

[border-spam]

Throwing some of my notes in the response here because again, this is something I don't think is talked nearly enough about and absolutely decimates content creators while the people who enjoy their content may not have the context to know it's happening. Man I'm sorry I didn't see this sooner and you're going through it, everything you said is.. it's just completely true, and no amount of lip service or buts and ands and ors change this feeling. I think we all know we shouldn't care about how much interaction something we worked on gets, that numbers shouldn't matter, that how "well" content is received shouldn't tarnish your enjoyment when it comes to creating it, but that shit is EASY to say and it's not how things actually work for most of us.

Telling someone having content they put huge amounts of effort into flop that:

"Oh you should make it for yourself, you shouldn't put value in other people, uwu"

Is bullshit in the long run. It means well, but it's not addressing the crux of the problem. It's nearly impossible to not feel intensely rejected when you are making content for people to enjoy, and no one seems.. to be enjoying it.. or even caring.

Does work still exist if it's released into a void? Do the hours of focus and commitment matter at all if the result practically vanishes overnight? I don't know, don't have the answer here, because I feel this acutely far more often than I want to as well. There's a silent majority of content consumers who enjoy without ever even interacting, but they are invisible, and you can only run on invisible motivation for so long.

On the art front, I understand making it FOR people, thats imo the whole point of sharing it at all, it's for other people... art for yourself doesn't need to be shared. I hope you don't give up because you've improved unbelievably since you started and it's been a real joy to watch.

I think Tumblr has suffered massively from Twitter. Likes mean nothing. Absolutely nothing here. Content dies overnight if not reblogged, and not gonna lie, I genuinely get intense rejection when I wake up to 2 reblogs on something that took a day. I think it takes a very specific kind of person to be able to avoid that feeling, and the vast majority of content creators can't.

It's stupid to tell someone they shouldn't feel that way, same as a terrible kudo rate or very few comments for the view count, that shit.. that really, really hurts.

I think all we can really do is be the change we want to see, and watch out for people making content with very little interaction. A reblog is just a button press.

personal rant under cut

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