#long ask! mine apologies!

[indigopoptart]

How do you have time to do an entire chapter every week!?!?! I live in the void and I still don't have the ability to form that many related sentences into paragraphs into art?!?!?! Do you have a secret superpower you're hiding from us because you're going to use it to save the world from destruction?!?!!?

OHOHO! Hello there!

dude i get it so much. before stumbling upon Welcome Home i was in SERIOUS writers burnout but somehow seeing those silly little guys yoinked me out of that and now i am here!

this is gonna be a bit of a long-winded explanation, so i’ll provide it here under the cut!

when i had first started writing stamps, i had published three chapters back-to-back, writing one a day. which i know was because of my hyperfixation kicking into high gear and making my brain go go go! until i realized i was running low on Juice!

So that was when I had decided to start posting every sunday, that way i could take my time on producing things and build a buffer.

as of right now, i’m about a week ahead of what’s posted. that means that, i am currently working on chapter ten while chapter nine is being proofread and readied for publishing! having this sort of “buffer” allows me to feel less stressed about getting chapters done, which means i have the potential to write better!

ive always been a fast writer, even in my early days of starting out and even in my first and only other long fanfic (We Don’t Talk about That One!). but one thing i Majorly remember from that one is that i felt very stressed to get the next one out on time, to reach that word count minimum that i had set for myself. and im taking the time to make sure i dont do that with stamps. if a chapter must be 3,000 words, then it will be 3,000 words! if it must be 1,000, then it must be 1,000! Anything more or anything less will take away from that solid craftsmanship that me (and others) have been working on bringing to the table.

i know this answer may not Make Sense for your question, but i did want to explain my thought process behind it! the main things fueling my writing at the moment are my adhd and my asd. to be honest, without them, i never would have even started stamps! being neurodiverse is a Very wonderful Experience sometimes!

i write in the Notes app on my phone and ipad (evil, i know)! for some reason, doing so really helps me get the creative juices flowing. and it means i can work on it whenever! whether it be in the car on my phone, or in between classes on my ipad, or anywhere else, i write! and when i am Writers Blocked, i usually write on-stream with one of my buddies! body-doubling (even if not physically) really helps me focus.

but there we go! long winded explanation over! i hope you enjoyed this smidgen of information on my writing process!

btw, here is a link to STAMPS for those who are interested in reading!

[kyouka-supremacy]

Who in sskk would you say has the higher IQ?

IQ as in, conventionally smart? Then definitely Atsushi does. I'm sorry. I've said it many times before, but I don't think Akutagawa is a particularly perceptive person. Or witty. Or intelligent in general. It's due to external factors, he never got the chance to have anything that could resemble a proper education; but it's also a matter of his nature, he's just so impulsive, and narrow-minded, and stubborn, he really has the thickest skull ever. But seriously, especially in a world full of geniuses, Akutagawa simply doesn't shine for sharpness of mind, and is way too impulsive and instincts-driven to be a person that relies on reflection or rationality. Everything that Akutagawa does is the epitome of irrational, it's one of the greatest appeals of the character.

Atsushi is smart,,,, I've talked about this also, and I think it's less sustained by canon than for Akutagawa, but I like to think he's a very observant and perceptive person whose intelligence doesn't show because he's constantly surrounded by geniuses, but still he is smart. When it comes to observations skills, I find it easy for him to have them due to his childhood of ill-treatment and abuse: as a defense mechanism, he learnt to be especially observative of people's behaviour in order to tell what sets people off and be able to prevent any escalation, I think that's a widely shared abuse survivor experience. Something among these lines is shown in chapter 51:

I also think Atsushi is a very fast learner. He's observant, and that results in him constantly absorbing other people's knowledge. He's often asking for explanations for Dazai and Ranpo's reasonings, and although I know more often than not it solves an expositive role in the storytelling picture, there's still the fact that it makes Atsushi a person who's constantly trying to understand the reality surrounding him. Atsushi is also shown to be very cool-minded and calculating in fight: from him sliding under Akutagawa and attacking him from behind successfully eluding having to face him front-off in chapter 4, to him retracting his tiger limbs to escape Rashomon's bonds in chapter 12, to the strategy he elaborated with Tanizaki (and his ability to catch up on that) to defeat Lucy in chapter 16, to his attempt to outsmart Fitzgerald in chapter 34 (that, although failed, was still driven by rational thinking nonetheless), and the list could go on. The way in fight Atsushi is shown to ponder over and implement the advices people like Dazai or Mori offered him further makes me believe he's really good at absorbing information. And Atsushi is probably book smart, too! He's compelled by reading to the point he would even risk the orphanage director's punishment just to sneak into the library and read (not explicitly supported by canon, but I can take a guess). According to the second guidebook, he spends his leisure time borrowing books from the library and studying. Overall, he really seems to be rational in all the places Akutagawa is on the contrary driven by impulses¹.

It's like… A physics law when it comes to sskk, that Akutagawa will have the most despicable trait while Atsushi has the trait that is conventionally considered the best; or at least that's as far as my characterization of them goes. Atsushi is beautiful, Akutagawa is ugly². Atsushi is polite, Akutagawa is rude. Atsushi is pure, Akutagawa is stained. Atsushi is smart, Akutagawa isn't. Atsushi is lovable, Akutagawa is destined to cause repulsion in everyone he meets³. In the end, none of this matters: they're no different where it counts, that is, Atsushi isn't any more morally just than Akutagawa is. Atsushi in not any more good than Akutagawa is (I actually suspect the contrary is true). But as far as appearances go, it's still important to portray them as opposites, because Akutagawa being unlovable and Atsushi receiving all the love Akutagawa didn't get for being his contrary - even though deep down they're the same - is almost everything their relationship is about. It's also a big part of why they act like they do towards each other: it's source of Akutagawa's bottomless envy for Atsushi; it's source of how devoted and loyal he will grow to be for him - reaching the point of giving his life for him -, because he can't see Atsushi as anything but perfection. It's source of confidence and of that certain justified hatred towards Akutagawa Atsushi feels because to his eyes Akutagawa is about the worst person to have ever walked on earth. It's source to their wish to annihilate the other as the opposite they can't exist at the same time of. It's the reason Akutagawa had to die, because he's not the good one. Overall it's also expression of Akutagawa's thematic struggle to be good and unavoidable failure at that because of the constraints of a narrative that never wanted him to be good.

But I also think they can make it work. More precisely, I think sskk can make it work when both of them can overcome and defeat the narrative dichotomy they found themselves stuck into: by recognizing that deep common ground of “we're the same” and that where it matters, in morals, neither of them is better or worse than the other. The Beast universe exemplifies that for us readers, but they don't know Beast, so they'll have to realize it by their own. About that, I think Akutagawa already caught on, because he was faster to call out the hypocrisy of Atsushi's good guy façade, and from that it's a short distance to realizing that, as much as he hates to admit it, at his core Atsushi is not that different from himself. It's taking a little more for Atsushi to realize, because it's harder to get down from that higher moral pedestal he believes himself to be on, but with his whole reevaluating Akutagawa after he stopped killing and sacrificed himself for him (and then saved him again. And then showed him how formidable of a team they are when they find a common ground.), I think he's getting there.

Tl;dr: Atsushi is smart and Akutagawa is stupid and yes it fits their personalities, but way more importantly it's consistent with the themes they carry that translate in what their relationship is like.

¹ For further reading on how Atsushi can be witty, please refer to @/gloomierdays's tags on this post. ² For further reading on how Atsushi and Akutagawa's looks can be used to reflect their characters themes, please refer to this post. ³ For further reading on how Akutagawa being not smart (as far as conventional definitions of smart go) ties to his character themes, please refer to this post.

[lu-sn]

for random braindump, chay and macau being classmates in canon and recognizing each other post season 1 at some family function

congratulations you've revived my macau & chay besties 4evr agenda. this is not quite what you asked for but it is what fell out of my brain 😅

-

chay is fresh off of baby's first kidnapping, and porsche sits him down in an interrogation room and slides a picture across the steel desk and goes, "okay, this kid. this kid goes to your school. this kid is also the little brother of the guy who kidnapped you. well, kind of. well-"

"hia," chay says, pinching his nose, "i get it. what do i do?"

porsche grabs him by the shoulders. "do not go near him. don't talk to him. don't even LOOK at him. DON'T-"

chay endures this lecture very patiently and then does actually follow porsche's instructions, because the kidnapping completely scared the shit out of him and now he lives with the mafia and his life is legitimately in danger. he's gonna listen to what porsche says, no questions asked.

and then macau, who has literally never spoken to chay before ever (he has no reason to, he's one year younger and he's not studying music) starts popping up everywhere.

"hey," macau says, leaning precariously over the water fountain to stare at chay, who sprays water in his own face as he jumps six feet in the air before immediately sprinting away.

or, chay turns around in the lunch line and macau is standing right behind him, wagging his eyebrows, and chay lets out a small "eep" and then whirls back around and pretends very hard that macau isn't there.

or! chay is walking to his bus stop and macau is standing there looking at his phone, and this is ridiculous. chay has never seen macau take this bus before! so chay throws his hands up in exasperation and books it for the next bus stop, he's not putting up with this bullshit, no sir.

(macau is absolutely doing it on purpose. he's known about chay for months, but is actually on explicit orders from vegas to not bother or spy on chay in any way. he definitely wanted to help, but vegas didn't want macau to be thinking about that kind of stuff at school.

macau is flouting these orders now because vegas has been banished and porsche had something to do with it and he's hoping at first that he can fish information about all of that out of chay. but now he's in it for the trolling 😂)

macau doesn't know about the kidnapping. he doesn't know how personally chay is taking this — until he spots chay under a tree and saunters over to bother him, except. chay looks fucking wrecked. and like he's trying to hide it.

something clicks for macau. he totally gets it. sometimes you have to have a mafia-related breakdown at school, and all you can do is find a quiet place to have it.

(macau doesn't know chay is sad because of kim, but he doesn't need to.)

so when chay spots him, and tenses, and looks ready to bolt — macau halts and holds his hands up in surrender. then he waves, kind of awkwardly. and he leaves.

this very sudden generosity does surprise chay. and it continues to surprise chay when macau continues to wave at him whenever they see each other, but doesn't try to approach him. chay is still suspicious of macau, but chay is also a nice kid, and macau really isn't doing anything objectionable. so chay starts waving back.

this truce goes on for a while. and sure, chay isn't following the letter of the law anymore, but it's not like he's giving away information. he's not putting anyone in danger. and it's kind of comforting to have this shared understanding with this kid he doesn't even know. they're in the same boat. chay might not be able to talk to him, but chay feels a little less alone.

there's a million ways they could start talking after this. maybe macau just decides to take the plunge and plops down in front of chay during lunch and starts rambling about valorant. maybe macau is searching his pockets for change for the vending machine, and chay watches him do this for like five minutes and decides he needs to put macau out of his misery.

or maybe one of them finds the other having a panic attack in the bathroom, and talks them through it. (they're both better at this than they should be.)

or. maybe it's after the coup, and now macau is the one looking horribly withdrawn and jittery, and chay knows macau's brother is in a coma, and chay isn't feeling particularly happy about his own brother or anyone in the goddamn main family right now. so he says fuck it, and goes over to bump shoulders nonchalantly with macau.

maybe it's all of those. doesn't matter. they become friends. they're both lonely, and they're just too similar. too young, too tied to the mafia, too scared for their brothers, too little control over their own lives.

and it's not like they ever actually talk about being in the mafia. both of them know better than to give secrets away. they mostly just talk about gaming and homework and roast each other's tastes in music, and occasionally they allude to not being able to sleep, and sometimes they stutter to a stop to avoid saying something they shouldn't — but they both know to let it go. no need to fill in the gaps with lies, to pretend like everything is normal and okay.

it's nice. they're chill.

later, when porsche tells him they're having "family dinner" tomorrow night, chay doesn't realize that includes the former minor family, and he DEFINITELY doesn't realize macau is going to be there. which means he isn't prepared for macau to spot him at dinner and grin and start walking towards him, BECAUSE MACAU DOESN'T KNOW CHAY IS STILL BANNED FROM TALKING TO HIM.

chay is frantically gesturing at macau from behind porsche, making shh-ing motions and throat-slitting motions and shaking his head threateningly. and macau stops, puzzled, narrows his eyes — sly grin flickering across his face for a split second — points directly and dramatically at chay and goes "what are YOU doing here???"

chay facepalms.

macau puts a hand over his mouth and gasps. "have you been in the mafia this whole time?" then, louder, "i can't believe NOBODY told me."

"oh god," chay mumbles into his hand.

porsche is watching this go down, totally bemused. (vegas is also watching this go down, except vegas actually knows what's going on and is mostly amused about it.)

"chay," porsche says tentatively, "this is macau, vegas's little brother." then he nods expectantly at chay — like chay is supposed to do something now? is chay un-banned??? when the hell did that happen?

chay sighs. "hi, macau," he says, deadpan.

macau shakes his hand vigorously. "you play valorant?" he asks, like macau doesn't roast chay over vc every night.

"i'm gonna kick your ass to the curb," chay mutters, low enough that only macau can hear him.

"maybe when you get good," macau says, unrepentanly smug.

[dr-fanshawe]

Hi hello;;;; i come with a query. Do you mind explaining how you think jonathan got into that fleshy business? Did he read a cursed book? Did he have a mentor who pushed him towards it?

hello!

I should preface this by saying that I have 2.5 versions of his story in my head. aside from Flesh avatar Jonathan (Fanshawe, to be clear. I don't really talk about him much here), I am also an eye-aligned-but-not-an-avatar Jonathan believer (I think this is actually the most possible scenario, though that is a rant for another time). That Being Said I do have extensive headcanons about that

this is about to get very self-indulgent, so be warned. and note the discussions of drug addiction, Jonah Magnus (manipulation), self image issues and other Flesh-typical stuff

so, the way I like to see it going down goes like this: in the late 1820s Jonathan develops an opioid addiction (morphine, to be specific, as this part of his story is highly influenced by Bulgakov's Morphine. the plot revolves around a doctor who had the drug injected as a painkiller and became addicted to it). it soon becomes a very pressing issue as it starts to interfere with his day-to-day life and work, and as he realizes that he can't, actually, just drop it. Jonah, being his dear companion of many years, notices that something is wrong with him, maybe even Knows about it, and confronts Jonathan about it. while I do believe that by that point Jonah made peace with having to kill off his friends occasionally, I don't think it's something he does for fun. plus, having a doctor as your friend of very useful (and even more so since they are both trans, which means Jonah can trust him with his health), so Jonah volunteers to try to help him

they try a couple of things (lowering the dose gradually, quitting it cold turkey with Jonah overlooking Jonathan – diy rehab of sorts) and all of them fail miserably. so, Jonah decides to apply his knowledge of the supernatural to it: loss of control over yourself, your urges, your life sounds like a Web thing. then what is the opposite of it? which Fear would grant you total control over your body, balancing out Web's influence? it's the Flesh

or so he tells Jonathan – by that point Jonah did not believe in the ideas of balance, so he didn't really think Jonathan could "balance out" anything. he knew from the start that if Jonathan tried to flirt with the Powers, he would not walk away unaffected. he did mention to him that he may or may not end up in the service of the Flesh if they tried that, but Jonathan was desperate enough to agree anyway, which was very good for Jonah: he wanted to know what will happen. it was a very new Fear at that point, so he didn't know how it would interact with a human, since he never met an acolyte of It, and so... he made one

Jonathan was a good fit for the Flesh. as a trans man with no access to any kind of gender affirming procedures and in a very dangerous environment, he dealt with a lot of dysphoria. Jonah was trans as well and had similar feelings, but while Jonah's dysphoria came from being afraid that other people don't see him for who he is, Jonathan's came from the very experience of living in his body. plus, Jonathan was always curious about human anatomy, limits of the human body, its inner workings etc etc – it was one of the main reasons he wanted to pursue medicine. his personal philosophy resembled the Flesh's ideas too, even though it was mostly informed by his experiences as a doctor (a talk for another time). so, the only thing that Jonah had to do is suggest that path and maybe lead him a bit, but he was sure Jonathan would get the hang of it very quick. and he did

to be fair, it did help with the addiction, even if just by replacing one urge with another. it also made Jonathan rely on Jonah even more to navigate his new nature. Jonah suggested writing everything down to try to make sense of it (and to keep an account from his perspective, which Jonah could then study)

Jonathan was grateful to him for his help – he believed Jonah was fully sincere in that. and he was sincere, but... to an extent. at the same time, there was a faint feeling of betrayal, which he tried to suppress because (technically) he knew what he was signing up for. nevertheless, he couldn't come to terms with his new way of being, what occasionally led to him lashing out at Jonah for making him like this and then apologizing profusely. rinse and repeat for a couple of years

when Jonathan finally cuts ties with Jonah, he quickly realizes that without his help, it is very difficult to continue surviving. especially since he doesn't want to be a monster – never wanted to, but at least before there was Jonah to tempt him – so he struggles to keep himself fed. it gets worse and worse and eventually resolves in his suicide around 6 months after he sent the letter to Jonah. before doing that, he donated his diaries to the Magnus Institute as a way to preserve the knowledge about who Jonah Magnus is. no one would publish them, obviously, but he knew that Jonah didn't have it in him to destroy them, so the Institute seemed like his best bet

a brief pause for applause, and now we are in the paragraph where I address historical accuracy. Morphine was published in 1926, and they had modern syringes by that time. Jonathan died before their invention in 1853, but they already had morphine – it was isolated in 1803-1805. which means that he'd have to take it orally, which in turn would require a higher dose to cause addiction (but it's still the most addictive substance according to wiki, so it wouldn't take that much). does it have to be morphine? no. but I want it to be, so now it is

I'm not going to ponder how possible it would be for two Regency trans men to meet, but I want to mention James Barry who was a surgeon and a trans man born somewhere in 1789 just because it makes me happy to know about him :)

[ghostie-gengar]

do u guys fw ocs??

behold: my little guys who have been rotating in my head for the past few months

(i'll put a transcription under the cut in case yall can't read my horrible handwriting)

Ryba Kaisei / 海星リーバ

she/her, 20

alien

very energetic

she and her sister Stella are a pop duo called: ST☆RFISH

Eliott Hoshino / 星野エリエット

she/her, 21

half alien

highschool dropout

kinda spacey (haha)

dislikes pop music

is friends with 2 pop stars

Stella Kaisei / 海星ステラ

she/her, 20

alien

has a tumblr where she complains a lot

always quick with a sarcastic remark

[frobisher-smythe]

alright first i don't know HOW i haven't followed you yet. second because i refuse to be alone in this. fabian would be a PERFECT osirion for nina. he already goes out of his was to protect her, the form this instant bond the moment she arrives do you see. my vision. eddie is great but the thematic element of "are we actually in love with each other or is this just another string of fate pulling us together" would be SO GOOD

😭😭 I've been intermittingly inactive for awhile

I LOVE thinking about how senkhara automatically thought it was fabian. fabian has always been naturally protective over nina, in season one we see that right from the jump when the others are questioning why nina left for school early and he says "it's probably to get away from us, we've hardly been very welcoming", then again when he protests against her 'initiation', and all throughout the first mystery: covering for her with the teachers, going after her when she was kidnapped by rufus, his reaction when she's threatened by rufus with the flies in the classroom in particular. it was never something that just jumped out during the senet task. he was the natural assumption for her osirian, he's gravitated towards her from her first day, put himself into the mystery despite having no personal connection, and has always, always protected her.

I've written about the "are we actually in love or is it fate" in the context of eddie/nina before but it works for any chosen one/osirian hc, feeling a natural pull towards each other and questioning whether it's because of some ancient fated responsibility or because you genuinely care for the other, bringing out eros. it's such an interesting dynamic that I think brings a lot of confusion for those involved and lets you have this really beautiful slow-burn type of love.

[actuallyitsstar]

For Fanfiction Work-In-Progress Guessing Game 😁

The word is "purpose".

✨ send me a word & find it in my wip! ✨

It had gotten them through the mission, with its ups-and-downs and its life-or-death. Through sickbay, with all their wariness and worry, and had led them to the desert, with a fractured sensation of family and a feeling of purpose and longing in at last gluing it back together.

thank u so much for the ask lovely!!! and omg i'm so sorry to have taken so long to answer aaaaaaa. welcome to more of my top gun found family mavdad and brad brad reconciliation bullshit tho. what can i say. it has in fact become *my* purpose i think akdhdjfhfjf

[simonghostrileys]

.

[sqeeebus]

No this literally happened to me recently— except more embarassing

[nerdalmighty]

Happy birthday! I hope you have the best day and a fabulous year! 💖💖💖💖

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! 🫂🫂🫂

[burningcomputerpersona]

saw your description, I LOVEEE the ocean grew hands to hold me but don’t know any other songs by them, what else should i listen to?

OHOHOHOHOOH THANK YOU FOR SENDING ME THIS ASK YOU HAVE COME TO THE RIGHT PERSON FOR THIS

the ocean grew hands to hold me is an INCREDIBLE song and you have immaculate taste my friend

now when it comes to the wonder years this is a band where i always recommend ppl listen to the entire albums bc the songs actually lean on each other and support each other to create a cohesive record. but also i understand that this is not always easy so here are some songs to get you started depending on different things you might have liked about this song

now i've heard ppl describe The Ocean Grew Hands To Hold Me as a worship song for the ocean which is a perfect descriptor imo and if you're looking for a song with a similar sound/ vibe the first song that comes to mind for me is Cigarettes & Saints (and if you really like this song i recommend giving the album No Closer To Heaven a listen bc it is a masterpiece)

another staple of the band that also starts off relatively quiet and builds up to an incredible climax and includes a reference that shows up all throughout their future songs that i really recommend is The Devil In My Bloodstream

but if you're looking for a song from the same record as The Ocean Grew Hands To Hold Me that also starts off relatively chill and builds up at the end and has similar themes & sounds, i recommend We Look Like Lightning

and if you really enjoyed the themes about death and grief and connecting with people then I recommend the entire Sister Cities album starting with Raining In Kyoto

alternatively if you're getting tired of all the death and grief and want something a bit more positive that also starts off relatively chill and builds up to a climax, then I really recommend the extended cut of Summer Clothes (not only because i found out about it only a few days but also bc it sounds great and the ending has been stuck in my head for days now)

and finally if you're looking for an actual introduction to the band then I have to recommend You're The Reason I Want The World To End. it's the last song on their latest record and also the perfect representation of who they are as a band (and also the song that Dan has said he's proudest to have written)

And if that song made you cry i recommend giving the whole album a listen starting from Doors I Painted Shut bc if you thought you were crying before you're gonna be sobbing through it after giving the entire record a listen (and also please feel free to ask me more abt this record bc it is my absolute favorite and i could never run out of things to say about it)

and this doesn't even include stuff from their earlier albums which i apologize for but we're at 7 songs already which i figured was enough for one post. anyway i hope this wasn't too overwhelming and i wish you the best on your music journey!!

[apollo-zero-one]

Too old to be a kid too young to be an adult just the right age to cry myself to sleep

[irlwakko]

[ID: a series of Tumblr tags. In plain text, they read: “There is something beautiful in these warnings. What is it? Is it the reminder of our mortality intertwined with our world so often uncaring in its beauty and wonder? The sense of fragility inherent to these messages? I mean, probably, yeah, but I also think it’s the kinship of these. Someone took their time to go ‘Hey you-- yeah, you-- looking at this wondering. You aren’t the only one looking at this and going ‘What if?’ I had the same thoughts you did, and many people before you did too. I want you to know that. And I want you to know what those who came before you and wondered learned. I hope you stay safe, but if you have to know, if you can’t be left to wonder, here’s what they learned. Here’s what to prepare yourself to endure.’ Or maybe I’m just rambling. TW: death. Warning signs. /end ID]

No but I absolutely agree with these tags, which is why I also find safety signs with a handmade/”unofficial” quality to them to be uniquely beautiful. I love all signs, but the ones you can tell were made by visitors or locals just using whatever they had around to keep their fellow humans safe are some of my favorites.

[ID: Three images of signs in different places. The first one is carved into a sheet of wood and reads “Hanakāpī’ai Beach WARNING! Do not go near the water. Unseen currents have killed 83+ visitors.” Above the number 83+ is a series of tally marks.

The second sign is on a piece of notebook paper stapled to a wooden support in a cave or mine. It reads “May 24th, 2019– Shaft drops roughly 200 feet. Roughly 80 feet switches to a new ladder. A new ladder was built at the bottom in 1988. Next level has been filled in but you can go left and crawl (about 2.5 foot ceiling). Unknown crawling distance. YOU CAN’T HEAR YOUR BUDDY!!! Whole ladder is solid.”

The third sign is spray-painted onto the side of a building in red paint and reads “POWER ON. CUT A WIRE, YOU DIE. 440 VOLTS.” /end ID]

this is by far my favorite safety/warning sign btw. they really went off with this one

[zhongrin]

festered wounds

— when you’ve never been the first choice your whole life, it’s hard to accept the possibility that you could be loved.

© zhongrin | 2023  ✼  no repost・translations・plagiarism of any kind・ai data mining. rebloggers get a free cup of tea ♡

✼ characters ┈ zhongli, al haitham, wriothesley

✼ tags ┈ gn!reader, this is more of a vent drabble, hurt with comfort, reader with massive insecurity issues, implied past trauma, slight blood & gore in the portrayal of ‘hurt’

✼ a/n ┈ this…. got really personal, haha. i wrote this in a bad headspace, so apologies if it got depressing or if it’s of a low quality. i didn't want to have this in my drafts and i certainly don't want to bring it to 2024 so i'm just posting this now.

ᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ)  ✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ)

“i’m sorry.”

zhongli’s heart dropped at the words escaping your lips. this was certainly the most unexpected response you could give to his confession, seeing the promising recent developments in your relationship — and so celestia forgive him, he had to pause to gather his thoughts. this made you fidget even more under his gaze, and so you succumbed to your frazzled nerves to continue in a more panicked voice.

“i’m sorry, mr. zhongli, i know you’re not the type to resort to deceit or find joy in toying with people’s feelings, but i’m just— i can’t—” you trailed off, feeling your chest tighten in pain.

“please, hold your tongue for a moment,” the refined man held out one of his hand to settle onto your shoulder comfortingly. his expression was a mixture of worry and confusion, eyebrows furrowing in a sign of distress. “are you saying that you… do not believe my words? you think i have malicious intentions?”

“….. i’m sorry, i’m just not used to- i’ve never-” you stumbled over your words and squeezed your eyes shut, “i’m sorry….”

zhongli watched you for a moment, observing the smallest ticks and the story behind your body language. you looked so vulnerable, like a scared animal instinctively cowering at some invisible threat. you looked as if someone had stripped away a bandage that had been haphazardly wrapped around a wound left unattended for so long, it had festered into an abomination, eating away at you slowly, even now.

belatedly, he realized that ‘someone’ was himself.

zhongli inhaled deeply, his palm leaving your shoulder. this time, he took his hands to tenderly grab your fingers, lifting them up to silently plead for your attention. your eyes were troubled and full of storms, the rain and lighting reflecting on your expression as a solemn flutter of your eyelashes and sorrowful downturn of your lips. the slight tremble of your body reflected the silent call for help from a blemished heart that never had the courage to forget.

“my dearest. i see the pain you have gone through. i have yet to know the tales that had marred your heart, but i want you to know that i am willing to be the pair of ears you tell your grievances to, and you can be rest assured that they will be safe with me. i know my words will not be enough to convince you otherwise at this moment… however, you must forgive my impatience, for it stems out of genuine love. i simply must humbly ask once again—”

“— please, give me a chance to heal you.”

“a-are you sure you want me?”

out of the 18 different responses he anticipated, al haitham did not expect this. however, his surprise merely manifested in the rising of both of his eyebrows and the subtle shift on his legs.

“unlike the consensus the public seemed to have one-sidedly agreed on, i am not foolish enough in the matter of romance as to confess to someone i do not hold deep affection and great care for,” he said in the same tone as the moment he asked if you would consider taking your relationship into the ‘officially dating’ phase, “is it not obvious? kaveh claimed i was ‘laying it on thick’ and cyno had noted of how i treat you better than how i treat the dendro archon.”

“oh….”

“….”

“….”

you thought you had gotten used to al haitham’s stare with how much you both had been hanging out, but right now you couldn’t seem to lift your head. the scholar crossed his arms, waiting patiently for your response. you were both gratuitous and dreading his resilience.

“i-i still think you could do better, though. i mean, look at you! you’re so fit, so wouldn’t you feel better if your partner is more of the sporty type? and you’re the top graduate of the haravatat darshan, so you would pair better with someone smarter…. a-and someone like me will just drag you down; aesthetically speaking, i… uh, leave much to be desired while you’re… you know…”

you spoke of such illogical assumptions and erroneous advices that he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. you spoke of belittling yourself as if you were used to riding on the rails of insurmountably low dip of the self-esteem cliff for years. you spoke of these things as if you were repeating words someone told you at least once in your life.

and it angered him.

but he wasn’t angry at you. he was angry for you.

funny how empathy wasn’t his strong suit, and yet he jumped on the bandwagon as easily as an otter taking off into the waters the moment it came to you and your emotions.

“i care not for such shallow qualifications when it comes to seeking a partner. your presence triggers the relevant hormones that make me feel relaxed and comfortable, and my mind spontaneously seek for your attention. it’s only logical that i seek for an arrangement that would ensure these pleasant things to happen and develop further.”

“you’re the best choice for a partner, simply because i wish to spend the rest of my life with you; and i think that's enough.”

“i don’t think i’m a good choice for you…”

wriothesley looked as if you had pinpointed his weak point in a boxing match and delivered a straight jab right onto it. his lips slacked open and his body froze as he tried to process your words, the meaning behind it, the—

he inhaled deeply and punched his own fist into his palm, stretching his jaw with a growl before a darker tone took over his voice.

“alright, who’s been talking shit? let me at them. it won’t be manslaughter if they don’t die, right?”

he watched as your nervously fiddling fingers stopped twisting around each other, your eyes widened in shock and alarm at his words. briefly, he praised himself inwardly for being able to switch your mood at the snap of his fingers. now if only he could do that, but instead of surprise-and-horror, it could turn into surprise-and-joy instead…

“what?! wait- no! no one said that, i ju—”

“then is your own head telling you that?”

“it’s—” you gulped, gaze slowly breaking away.

he sensed a secret kept safe under the heaviest chains and locks. pain that had nearly torn up that warm heart of yours, shoved into the furthest part of you in a desperate attempt to save yourself; to silence the damned screams and the river of curses that would have made you self-destruct. he saw the remains of the thousands of needles that had embedded itself deep inside your worn heart a long time ago, and yet still it beat and struggled to not bleed out and drown you in its venomous blood.

he saw a heart as scarred as his skin, and he understood.

“..… alright, sweetheart, listen up, and listen close.”

the man’s hands suddenly cradled your cheeks, his icy blue eyes penetrating your clouded gaze. his whole demeanor had shifted into gentle and loving, as if he was holding his entire world in the palms of his hands. he resisted the urge to kiss you when you couldn’t help but lean onto his touch, instinctively seeking comfort.

he would do you better. he would give you the kind of love you’ve yet to experience. there were so much he wanted to say, but he chose to speak of the reassurance he thought you needed most at this moment.

“i say you’re the perfect choice for me. let me prove it to you.”

✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ) ┈ @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @depressivecomforts | @sunnshineflxwer | @yuutasbabe | @queen-belial | @stygianoir | @silentmoths | @niktwazny303 | @dustofthedailylife | @marina-and-the-memes | @mixed-kester | @lordbugs | @anonymousficreader | @shizunxie | @ansy-tea | @irethepotato | @sassy-cat-in-town | @syrenkitsune | @smokipoki | @cakeboxie | @crystalflygeo | @ciexuvia | @illaasya | @celestewritestoomuch | @pams-comfortzone | @spidermanluvr444 | @ourstrawberryclouds | @ryuryuryuyurboat

[maskedbyghost]

jealous!Simon is on my mind 24/7

even better if the two of you are secretly fucking bc he is scared of feelings, commitment, relationships, and blah blah blah…

and simon wasn’t used to feeling jealous. he had trained his emotions out of him long ago, or so he thought. but as he stood in the doorway, watching you stroll across the shared kitchen on the base, your back turned to him, the name "mactavish" boldly displayed on the long-sleeved shirt you wore, something twisted in his chest.

the sight of you wearing his shirt, so casually, stung in a way simon hadn’t expected. he cleared his throat, trying to sound indifferent, but the edge in his voice betrayed him. "that’s johnny’s shirt."

"i know." was the only thing you said, smirking since he couldn't see your face. you knew exactly what you were doing, but in that moment, you didn’t care.

"why is johnny's shirt on you?" simon asked, his voice low but tight with tension. he tried to keep his tone neutral, but the undercurrent of jealousy and frustration was hard to hide. seeing you in johnny’s shirt stirred something uncomfortable deep inside him, a mix of possessiveness and insecurity that he wasn't used to feeling. he hated how something so simple made his chest tighten, how the sight of you in someone else’s name made him feel like he was losing control of the one thing he was afraid to admit he cared about.

"oh, he gave it to me because i was cold," you said, pouting slightly as you turned around to face the only man you ever wanted "he is such a nice guy."

simon managed a slight nod, his mind blanking from the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside him. everything felt too much, too fast. meanwhile, you casually turned your back to him again, giving him another clear view of soap's name stretched across your shoulders as you began making your tea. the tiny grumble that escaped simon’s lips didn’t go unnoticed—it sent a wave of satisfaction through you, a small victory that made your day. you loved torturing him. and, after all, he did deserved it.

frustrated, he walked over to the sink, grabbing a glass of water, hoping it would cool the fire raging inside. but as he turned, his grip slipped, and the water splashed across your front. simon froze, watching the water drip down your shirt, half-shocked and half-relieved for the excuse to make the shirt disappear.

simon froze, his eyes glued to the water dripping down your shirt. after a beat of silence, he muttered, "well, guess you’ll need to take that off now. what a shame."

shocked, you watched as he put the glass down and left the room, still feeling the cold water seeping through the fabric. did he seriously just accidentally splash you and then walk out like nothing happened? that bitch.

*

later, as you slept in your bed, wearing your shirt this time, you stirred slightly at the feeling of someone’s arms wrapping around you. you didn’t even need to open your eyes or turn around—you already knew who it was. that familiar warmth could only belong to simon.

"simon?" you muttered groggily, barely able to make out the shape of him in the dim light. "what are you doing here?"

"shh, just sleep, pretty girl," he whispered softly, his breath warm against your ear. "i just wanted to apologize for how i acted earlier."

"i'm listening," you murmured, your voice barely more than a whisper.

simon’s arms tightened around you as he spoke. “i’m sorry for earlier. i know i’ve been pushin' you away and acting like an idiot. seein' you in johnny’s shirt... it just brought out this jealousy i didn’t want to admit i had. i hate feelin' like i’m not enough, or that someone else might have a piece of you. the truth is, i want you to be only mine. i can’t stand the thought of you being with anyone else. i just wanted you to know that, even if i messed everythin' up.”

“well, isn’t this a surprise? i didn’t realize it took me wearing johnny's shirt for you to admit your feelings.” you said with a hint of a smile, turning around to kiss him softly. simon sighed into the kiss, his arms wrapping around you with a sense of relief and affection.

simon pulled back slightly, his eyes intense as he rested his forehead on yours “i mean it, you know. you’re mine—only mine. no one else gets to touch what’s mine.” his voice was firm, yet tender, which made his words more meaningful.

"did you have a similar conversation with soap?" you asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

simon grinned, leaning in even closer. “yep, told him to keep his wardrobe to himself unless he wanted a 'property of simon' label slapped on everything he owns.” he sealed his words with a gentle, lingering kiss, his lips tenderly brushing against yours as if to mark his claim in the most intimate way.

*

soap: so, i guess it worked?

y/n: your shirt got wet, but i got what i wanted. thanks, bestie.  

soap: i think i got worse treatment from simon than the shirt did, but anything for my two lovebirds.

[nereidprinc3ss]

pillow talk

in which spencer reid chooses a very odd time to reveal an anecdote from his past to fem!reader

18+ (fluff, extremely suggestive) warnings/tags: fingering but nothing graphic whatsoever, it's basically fade to black sex, discussions of spencer's gsw from season 5, medical talk (and inaccuracies), spencer is a sarcastic little shit a/n: found this super random little thing in my drafts and it was done and i think it's silly and cute so i'm posting it! 600 words, short n sweet!

“You got shot in the knee?”

It’s perhaps said too loudly for the setting—tucked into Spencer’s bed in the late hours of the night when up until this point the conversation had been nothing but murmured stories and quiet giggles. And before that, well—before that there hadn’t been much conversation at all. 

Still you can’t find it within yourself to apologize as you sit up, holding the top sheet to your chest and looking down at Spencer incredulously. His eyebrows raise like he’s surprised by your reaction. 

“Thigh, technically. And it was years ago. Come back.”

You huff but allow yourself to be pulled back down, head on his shoulder as his hand finds its place stroking your hip once more. 

“How have you never told me that?”

“You never noticed the multiple incision scars on my leg?”

“What? No! Can I look now?”

“You won’t be able to see them. It’s too dark.”

You angle your head toward him, and he does the same, tilting his down until your noses almost brush. 

“So turn the light on.”

“If I turn the light on I’ll get distracted.”

“Distracted by what?” You ask, realizing what he means and voice quickly fading even as you finish the sentence. He chuckles and kisses your head. 

“I’ll show it to you in the morning. Come here.”

“I am here,” you grumble. He hums, leaning down further to try and kiss you. 

“Closer.”

So you scoot up the mattress and roll onto your side, pressed right against him, to meet him halfway in a sweet kiss. 

“You’re kind of spoiled,” you laugh against his lips as he begins pushing the sheet from your body. 

“You have to be nice to me. I got shot, remember?”

“Right. And how long ago was this, approximately?”

“It was 19 days before my 28th birthday.”

So much for approximations. 

“Aw. You got shot for your 28th birthday?”

It’s his turn to laugh into the kiss as he carefully rolls over you but recovers quickly, assuming a deadpan delivery. 

“Yeah. And it was really bad.”

“Sexy,” you murmur as he kisses down your jaw. “Tell me more.”

“Shots to the leg can be life-threatening if the femoral artery is nicked. Thankfully the bullet missed mine. You’re welcome.”

Your heart skips with a split second of true anxiety, but you snort at his cavalier attitude. 

“Yeah? This is really working for me.”

He lowers his voice to the one he uses in more intimate contexts and you giggle as he explains his gunshot wound to you like it’s dirty talk. 

“The bullet went in through my rectus femoris…” now uninhibited by the sheet, he finds the spot on your thigh and pinches lightly, “and came out clean through my semitendinosis muscle.”

“Clean? No bone fragments?”

“Nope. The doctors said I was extremely lucky it didn’t splinter my femur but it completely destroyed my muscles. I had to do physical therapy for a year and a half and I had a cane for months.”

“That’s kind of hot,” you breathe, losing commitment to the bit as his kisses get lower and his hand creeps higher. 

“Wait until you hear about the mid-surgery aortic clamping and ligature complications. You’ll love this—I was awake the whole time.”

A soft moan slips from between your parted lips and your brows pinch. 

“Spencer—”

“What?” He murmurs. “Me getting shot in the leg isn’t sexy anymore?”

You manage something between a breathy laugh and a mewl as your back arches. 

“I’m gonna kill you.”

He hums against your throat. 

“Good luck. You’d be far from the first to try.”