#maybe it will fix itself when I post? Here's to hoping

[moon-ttokki-x]

‧₊ a little bit sweeter - (roommate!han jisung x reader) ˚‧

pairing: college roommate!han jisung x reader

summary: jisung realises that he feels something more for his roommate who loves to bake.

genre: college!au, mentions of eating and drinking, slightly suggestive ? kissing, jisung being a whole simp for reader, one sus joke, making cookies (bc i'm craving them so bad rn)

a/n: hihi~ inspired by this post, so i'm tagging @butteredsushi and @jisunggy thanks for the fic inspo guys <3 div by @kodaswrld

skz masterlist

"Whatcha doing?"

You look up just as Jisung, your roommate, enters the kitchen, no doubt drawn by the clattering noises that you've filled the flat with. He hops up on the counter, peeking behind you in interest, where you've set a heap of bowls and pans onto the countertop.

"Just wanted to make something," you exhale, poking his cheek before moving to find the bowl you're looking for. Jisung hums and sits back on the counter, leaning on his hands as he watches you clumsily sift through the pile, muttering to yourself.

"Do I get to eat whatever it is that you're making?" He asks carefully, secretly crossing his fingers in a hope you'll say yes.

You huff and stand up from where you've been bending and peering into the cabinets. "Ji, we literally live together."

"Yeah, but like, were you planning to eat it all by yourself?"

You laugh, gesturing for him to open the cupboard directly below his feet, which he does. "Maybe, but we both know you would have eaten most of it. Do you want to eat something specific?"

"Cookies," he says instantly, not hesitating. His cheeks flush pink.

You roll your eyes, taking out a spoon. "Should've known."

Jisung throws his hands up defensively. "What? They're good for days like this, with the weather how it is right now. Be for real."

He has a point, you think as you look out the window.

It's drizzling in a fine swell over what you can see of the city, a heavy, almost blue fog casting itself like a blanket over the buildings. Classes ended early today, and you'd wanted nothing more to rush back to your dorm and rid yourself of the soaked, cold clothes you'd had to be in all morning.

To say the least, it had been extremely unpleasant weather, and it had taken at least an hour standing under the steaming water of the shower to try and bring your body's temperature up again.

You shiver as your eyes flicker over to the door, your still-wet shoes leaking droplets of storm water onto the plastic bag you'd set them upon in an attempt to keep the floor dry. Jisung was already back from his lecture by the time you got in, and he hadn't even looked up as you'd rushed into your room and slammed the door, soaking wet and chattering as you turned the water on.

At least, you think he hadn't looked up at you. In reality, he'd been waiting for the moment the door would open and you would come in.

But you didn't notice. You never do.

You set two more bowls onto the counter, missing the way Jisung's eyes follow yours as you move across the floor, gaze fixed on the way your hair is still drying, hanging in little damp clusters over your ears and nape. Your cheeks are flushed, most likely from the boiling water you shower in, and your figure is swamped in an oversized hoodie and a pair of grey sweats. His heart jolts as he looks you up and down, trying to fight that warm feeling that seems to rise in his chest every time he meets your gaze.

I have a hoodie that looks almost the same... it looks like you're wearing my clothes. That'd be so hot...

"...and then I had to rush all the way back here because it was so cold and rainy outside. You have a point, to be honest; I was thinking about eating something warm and delicious when I got back, but I wanted something a little bit sweeter- Ji. Ji, are you listening?"

"H-huh?" He shakes his head, thoughts of you in his clothes hastily evaporating. "Uh, yeah."

You point a measuring cup at him cheekily. "Liar. What's wrong? Are you too hot? I can turn the thermostat down if you want... I turned it up super high when I got back because it was so cold-"

"N-no, it's okay," he interrupts. "Sorry. Just a long morning. Classes and all that."

You shoot him a sympathetic look, opening a packet of self-raising flour. "Yeah, I get that. Poor you... And all this rain, too... not really ideal for all the walking we have to do nowadays."

Jisung can't help but smile softly at your rambling, holding the edge of the bowl as you almost knock it off the countertop. Your measuring spoon gets bumped in the process and a small puff of flour spills onto Jisung's knee, dusting the loose, black denim.

"Oops," you say sheepishly, setting the cup down. "Sorry."

He's about to reply and tell you it's okay before his gaze flits down to your hand, which is gently brushing off his knee. And suddenly, he can't seem to focus on anything but your touch. It's warm, even through the thick fabric, and he finds himself wishing you'd bumped the measuring cup a little harder so you could be brushing off all the flour for longer, your fingers gentle against his leg.

He doesn't even mind that there's a subtle white patch on the denim where it spilt.

You scratch the back of your head. "Hang on, let me get a paper towel-"

"No, don't worry," he blurts out. "I-it's fine."

You look up in surprise, tapping another cupful of flour into the bowl before adding a haphazard mix of baking soda, salt, and cornstarch over it. "Are you sure? I'm gonna make a mess in this place. I don't want your clothes to get dirty..."

"It's fine," he says again, a little more confidently. "I can just take them off."

You splutter, sending a puff of flour into the air, making both of you cough as Jisung waves his hands frantically, cheeks scarlet.

"I-i didn't mean it like that," he coughs, flustered. "I meant-"

"I know what you meant," you say, fighting a grin as you turn away to open the fridge. "Honestly, Ji."

He drops his face into his hands just as you crack two eggs into another bowl, heading back to the fridge for the stick of half-finished butter on the top shelf. You've learnt to buy more butter than you think you need; your roommate has a habit of using far too much butter than necessary on his toast. Not that your topping habits are much better; the Nutella jar is usually empty after a day.

Anyways.

Placing the rest of the butter in a small glass bowl, you set the microwave timer for 30 seconds before closing the door. Jisung's eyes follow the bowl spinning round and round inside, the butter seeping and melting into an oily mess against the glass edges.

His fingers tap against the countertop as you move your bowls over to where he's sitting, your shoulder brushing his arm as you busy yourself with tipping brown and granulated sugar into yet another bowl. Jisung cheekily dips his finger into the mixture and brings it to his mouth as you smack his hand away, relishing the raw, saccharine taste of the grains.

"You have to stop doing that.. Ew, Ji!"

He wipes his finger nonchalantly on your arm, much to your disgust. Ignoring your groans, he hums to himself as you take the melted butter from the microwave, slamming the door shut again.

"Stop doing what?" He says innocently.

"Dipping your little thieving paws into the bowls... you'll contaminate it. And wiping said paws on my arm..."

"So?" He says, grinning, ears still red from his earlier comment. "It's not like anyone else but you and me are eating the stuff you make."

You huff and tip the butter into the bowl, spilling half of it in the process. "I'm gonna put raisins in these if you keep provoking me."

"No!"

"Shut up and stop bothering me then," you huff, one hand coming up to matter-of-factly wipe a tiny speckle of sugar from the corner of his lip.

He's about to make a comment, but he goes silent; his face turns the colour of the cherry tomatoes in the fridge crisper as you whisk the butter into the sugar mixture. You don't even notice how quiet he's gone, and as a habit, begin to ramble.

"I can't believe the mixer broke," you say absentmindedly. "I had to search for ages and ages for a recipe that didn't need a mixer for the process. It's actually so much easier to melt the butter too... last time I did this, I didn't mix it all in properly so the cookies tasted horrible after- not that you cared, of course, because I came back to the glass dish where I put them in a day before and they were all gone- Ji, you're not listening again."

"Yes I am," he says, strained. His face is red.

"No you're not. Anyways, I had to find substitutes for most of the ingredients until I could get to the store last week.."

You run off on yet another tangent about the recipe and different methods of baking and flavours, but all Jisung can focus on is the fact that you just touched his lip, wiped away whatever it was that what on his mouth, without so much as blinking. Like it was nothing... He finds himself beginning to panic a little; his face still feels all hot and tingly.

They just wiped my mouth for me... Wait, isn't that what couples do in the movies?? Does that mean.. no, it doesn't, because they didn't even blink when they did it. There's no way they feel the way I do right now, like this- is it hot in here? My face feels so warm...

He's about to lift the neckline of his hoodie to try and fan some air into his body, but not before something sweet-smelling and textured lands on the apple of his cheekbone.

He freezes, watching as you dip a finger into a bowl full of white paste. Frosting.

You know Jisung likes frosting on his cookies; it's a fact he hasn't even told you, but you know from the way he always secretly opens the tub of ready-made icing in the fridge that he likes them to be eaten that way. You always make a bowl of it whenever you bake now, just for him. Currently, you can't get over the look on his face; shocked, and almost distant, like he was distracted by something.

You managed to crack the eggs, mix all the ingredients together, add chocolate chips to the mixture, form the dough into balls, and put it all into the oven without him making so much as a comment. And then slightly warm up the icing too. He's never been this quiet.

Like, ever.

"Are you okay?" You smile. "You look a million miles away."

He gulps and watches as you dip a different finger into the icing, some of it remaining on your lip as you lick your fingertip clean. He can feel the tiny dollop of frosting you've dotted on his cheek. It's probably melting with how hot his face feels.

His gaze never leaves your mouth, and his eyes flit to the mess you've made of the counter; there's not a single ingredient you haven't managed to spill a quantity of. Most of it is staining your clothes too, not that you seem to care.

Y/n...

"Ji?" You wave a hand in front of his face, trying to rid him of the glazed look in his eyes. "What's wrong?"

Silence. Then-

"You look so beautiful," he murmurs.

It slips out so unexpectedly that he can't even bring himself to be surprised or regretful about it; if he never tells you, you'll never know how stunning you look in the moment, all damp hair and flour-smeared cheeks.

And maybe you don't look lovely to anyone else, but to Jisung, he's never seen anything more beautiful. And in a moment of instant clarity, he knows he's regret it forever if he doesn't tell you how he's felt for so long. Or worse, if someone else decides to tell you the same thing, and he never gets his chance...

You blink at the unexpected sentiment, not thinking much of it. "Thanks."

Turning away, you pick up a bowl and deposit it in the sink before Jisung pulls you back by the shoulder, you tumbling between his legs from where he's still sitting on the counter.

You don't even get a moment to process what's happening before his mouth is pressed gently against yours, tasting of sweet icing and brown sugar.

You mold yourself immediately into his embrace as his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you a little closer as his head tilts to the left. You're pretty sure he's almost breaking his neck, kissing you like this, but you couldn't care less, and it seems, neither can he.

"Jisung," you exhale against his lips, almost gasping.

"Sorry," he whispers, though there's a hint of cheekiness behind it that he can't quite disguise. "Should've asked to kiss you..."

You giggle and pull him in again, your hands finding their way to his nape, playing with the tiny, soft hairs there before he pulls back to gaze at you. "It's okay."

He looks too far gone now; his hair is deliciously rumpled from you running your fingers every which way through it, his cheeks still stained pink. The frosting on his cheek is smeared, a long, pale streak against the perfect planes of his skin.

You're about to pull him in again, and his mouth eagerly moves towards yours, but he only gets a light brush against your lips before the oven timer rudely interrupts, beeping and echoing in the silence of the flat. He groans as you turn away and reach across to switch it off.

You hear Jisung laugh breathlessly behind you as you peer through the oven glass; the cookies, once round and perfect, have now spread into a chocolatey mess across the baking tray, and you can see several small bits of dough beginning to burn dark against the hot surface of the oven grilles.

"Shit," you mumble as Jisung pulls you back into him, peppering kisses over your face. "I forgot to chill the dough before I put them in..."

"Screw that," he sighs against you. "We should chill instead. Just us, hmm? Cancel whatever plans you had..."

"Done," you whisper. "But what about the cookies-"

Jisung pulls you impossibly closer, his breath a warm fan across your cheeks and neck.

"Forget that," he murmurs. "I have something sweeter."

a/n: i forgot how fun writing jisung is >< asks open !

ttokki's taglist: @emilywhyyy @galaxy4489 @hyuneskkami @justsomekpopstuff @wavetohannie @strayingawayy @its-stayville-forever @batty-barty-crouchjr @wickedbutlovely @headfirstfortoro @lov3yv4mps

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[cloverapple]

How To Let Go

First things first; drop the idea that reading this will magically make you shift. If you’re here thinking “Oh, I’ll read this, I’ll let go, and then I’ll shift” stop! right! there! I know you want to shift, I know you want to get your desire, but you are missing the whole point of why you want to let go in the first place!

Second if all; there’s no one way to let go because there’s no one thing you’re letting go of. And that’s where most people trip up. You hear it everywhere:

”Just let go!”

“Release!”

“Detach!”

Like it’s some effortless switch you can flip on command regardless of how your unique mind works 😑

And then when you can’t, you start to feel like a failure, like you cannot accomplish this very basic thing that everyone seems to be doing so effortlessly.

Well my darling, listen to me: this is not your fault. You not being able to let go has nothing to do with how capable you are, how lucky you are, or how “primed” your mind is. None of that.

The mind fixates. That’s what it does. If shifting is a huge desire for you, you don’t just drop it overnight. If your DR is playing on a loop in your head, of course you’re going to latch onto it. If every time you go to bed, you secretly hope to wake up in your DR, your brain is still holding on. And yeah, it sucks. Because suddenly your dedication feels like a burden. You start asking “Why can’t I just let go? What’s wrong with me?”

Been there, felt that.

I’m going to tell you exactly why letting go is something anyone can do, and how you can start immediately—without the mental stress that usually comes with it.

But first, let’s clear something up: Letting go is not a quick fix for shifting. It’s not some miracle pill that guarantees success. For some people, yes, letting go is the missing piece. But for others, the real problem isn’t that they need to let go—it’s that they need trust and patience in themselves. And because they’ve been told that “letting go” is the thing to do, they beat themselves up for not being able to do it. When in reality, they were fine all along.

So first of all, figure out if letting go is what you actually need in your journey. If it's not, and you suddenly remember that you’ve found success while holding on, great! If not, let's move on.

So, what does “letting go” actually mean?

A lot of people hear it and think it means quitting, cutting shifting out of their lives, turning away from their DR, walking away completely. And yeah, that is one way to let go. But it’s not the only way. Let’s break it down the different ways there are to let go:

• Letting go of trying to shift – A.K.A what I talked about in this post. You still think of your DR, you still daydream, maybe you meditate at night with no intention to shift, you go about it like you already have it because you do. Stop it. Stop trying to shift.

• Letting go of expectation – You keep doing your methods, you stick to your routine, but you drop the pressure. No more “when will it happen?” You do it just because you enjoy it. You stop putting a deadline on shifting. You let go of when it will happen and just let it unfold.

• Letting go of your DR – You still shift, but you step back from your DR itself. Maybe you try a different DR for fun, maybe you explore WRs or fun, relaxing realities. You turn your focus elsewhere.

• Letting go of shifting itself – You stay in tune with expanding your awareness, but you do this by focusing on lucid dreaming, astral projection, or any other practice for a while. You take the pressure off shifting entirely by trying something new.

• The ‘fuck this shit’ mentality – You throw your hands up and stop giving a damn. Ironically, this one works better than you’d think.

• Letting go of perfection – You don’t need to do everything perfectly, follow every method flawlessly, or maintain some imagined “high vibrational state” 24/7. Stop striving for an ideal and just exist.

• Letting go of comparison – Stop looking at other people who claim to have shifted and measuring yourself against them. Their journey is not yours, and comparison only fuels frustration. Can you imagine driving your car, on the way to go pick up your brand new sport’s car, but you keep looking out the window because someone in the next lane is already driving a sport’s car?? YOU’RE GOING TO CRASH. EYES ON THE ROAD.

• Letting go of guilt – If you feel bad for not shifting yet, for wanting a break, or for feeling stuck, release that guilt. You don’t owe shifting anything. Shifting is you. You don’t owe yourself anything other than peace, trust and love.

• Letting go of attachment to results – Focus on the process rather than the outcome. Enjoy the journey, the experiences, and the growth that come with it. This is the thing I wish I knew at the very start of my journey, not because it would have made me shift faster, but because in hindsight, there’s so much fun in figuring out what works for you, discovering yourself, and the excitement pre-shifting to your DR.

• Letting go of fear – Fear of failure, fear of missing out, fear of doing something wrong, fear of shifting (which warrants another post in itself). Releasing fear allows for a more open, relaxed mindset.

• Letting go of overthinking and self-doubt – Stop analyzing every little thought, feeling, or experience. Your mind doesn’t need to be in constant problem-solving mode. You already know how to shift. You already have your desire/ your desire will manifest in the 3D. You are a creator. You are the god of your reality. If overthinking and stressing out solved anything, no one in the world would have problems.

• Letting go of rules – There are no strict guidelines for shifting. You don’t have to follow what someone else says. Make your own path.

But how do you actually let go?

When you let go, you do so from one of three places: peace, exhaustion, or indifference. To truly let go, you need to lean into one of these.

1. Peace – If what your mind craves is peace, you let go by accepting that your desires are either already yours or inevitably coming. You trust your ability to create and shift, so you stop chasing and start relaxing. Letting go from this state means stepping back, breathing easy, and knowing there’s nothing more you need to do—just be.

"Oh, easier said than done!" Yeah, that’s why we have the next two.

2. Exhaustion – If you’ve reached the point where you’re just tired, use it. Letting go through exhaustion means recognizing that you physically and mentally can’t keep stressing over this anymore. You’ve burned yourself out, and the only thing left to do is stop. Stop trying so hard, stop overthinking, stop forcing. Let yourself collapse into that exhaustion and let go because you have no energy left to hold on.

3. Indifference – This is the "fuck it" approach. Letting go through indifference means deciding that you simply do not care anymore—about shifting, about waiting, about the whole damn thing. Not in a bitter way, not in a frustrated way, just… whatever. If it happens, it happens. If it doesn’t, you’ll be fine. You’ve got a life to live, and you’re not about to waste it worrying over something that isn’t here yet.

No matter which one you lean into, the result is the same: freedom. You stop gripping so tightly. You stop making shifting feel like a desperate struggle. And in that space—wherever you land—letting go happens naturally.

There’s no right or wrong way to let go

Think of it as a spectrum. You let go at your own pace, in a way that feels right for you. Because here’s the truth—holding onto your DR, staying in the cycle of frustration, it hurts. But it’s also comfortable. It’s familiar. And the mind loves familiarity.

Everyone has something different they need to let go of. For some, it’s their attachment to results. For others, it’s the pressure to be perfect. Maybe it’s the need to control the process or the fear of what happens if they succeed. Letting go isn’t a one-size-fits-all solution/It’s about recognizing what is keeping you stuck and unhappy, and making the conscious choice to release it.

So, instead of forcing yourself to drown in the ocean of your desire, because you thought throwing youself in would force yourself to know how to shift, just grab a floatie. You already know how to swim. You just have to remember, and until you do, relax and let go.

[chokiechips]

Yandere Head Canons: Wally Darling

For some reason, yandere and obsessive Wally (ahhh pookie <3) seems so obvious, and i can't help but see it! It's so in his nature. Hope you enjoy!

Themes: yandere a smidge, lil fluff, delusional yandere, obsessive traits

I would think when he first meets you, it would probably be much later after the first episode of the Welcome to the Neighborhood series is aired.

He would probably know you as one of the new characters there, just a simple minded little person who has no clue what's going on behind the scenes and is just happy to be there.

He would be pretty alright with you at first like the other neighbors, maybe joining the other neighbors in their day-to-day activities, picking up mail at the post office, or having fun with Frank and Julie.

You start to notice him more often, and of course, being a great neighbor, you JUST have to get to know him. oh if only you knew how bad a decision this must be.

You feel excited at first, standing in front of the front door of Home, an apple pie in your hand, just to make peace with your neighbor and make a possible friend! Just in case, you talked with Julie and Frank and got his likes and dislikes, afraid of not wanting to upset this person you haven't talked to yet.

After a few light raps to the front door of Home, you'd wait there patiently, hoping that Wally Darling is in. Immediately he opened the door, and lo and behold, it's Wally!

He lets you in, and can't help but notice the delicious fragrance of apple wafting from your hands into his nostrils. An apple pie? How absolutely lovely of you!

After several hours of talking and conversing about the Neigborhood itself, and the puppets that live here, you can notice how Wally slowly lets himself get comfortable with you, allowing you to switch with him to sit on his iconic yellow chair.

But oh, the way you sat propped up happily in it, your thighs crossed just right , your bright smiling eyes looking up at him, Wally can't help but think you're just made for this. Nothing bizarre of course, maybe Julie or Barnaby could fare just as well, but there's something just so special about you, he can't seem to put his finger on it!

Over the coming days, the rest of the neighbors grow suspicious of the lengthy hours you'd spend at Home, the way Wally would casually let you sit next to him at his front yard and paint Home with him. His brush sitting primly in your hand as you make an attempt at painting Home, creating some sort of mess. But Wally can't help but find it endearing. Look how Home responds to your painting, to your splash of colors! Home may be a little friendly, but Wally can't help but feel his heart feel gooey and warm at the way Home interacts with you. Would you like to live in Home with him? Home would love that!

Soon, Wally and you become practically inseperable, best friends even! Wherever you go, he's always sure to follow. The way his eyes dilate at the sight of you, the paintings of you he'd paint without fail, the little accidents you'd cause (definitely not by Home) that Wally would come to help fix, a large smile on his face. Of course he would help! You're his darling neighbor! or maybe the future Darling?

On a particular night, Wally and you chat over the episode that occured that day, smiling ear to ear about the silly things that happened, and the lessons learned that day. As you talk, you don't seem to notice the way Wally would lean onto every word you said, the way Home would ensure nothing, no furniture made a single noise, as you spoke.

Your word was key.

Friendliest neighbor he may be to everyone, but to you he would be more than friendly. He would do anything for you.

Until the name Howdy Pillar slipped from your mouth as you spoke.

Wally hands trembled at the thought of it, a smile plastered on his face as the thought echoed through his mind, your rambles continuing to echo throughout the living room.

A strand or two fell from his hairdo, eyes widening at the thought.

Howdy? Why him? You, Wally and Home were practically soulmates at this point!

Maybe it was time for some proving. Of how friendly Wally Darling truly could be.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[yandere-romanticaa]

can you feel my heart?

❝ can you hear the silence? can you see the dark? can you fix the broken? can you feel, can you feel my heart? ❞

synopsis: Your love for Albedo burns brighter than any flame, but what happens when an imposter ruins everything? Furthermore, what else awaits once you start walking side by side with the imposter, only for him to end up falling for you instead?

yandere! imposter! albedo x gn! reader

a/n: this story was originally published back in earlyish 2022 and I haven't really touched it since. It was better received on my Quotev account, in which I also wrote a chapter two. However, I recently got the spark back to maybe continue this and if there's a demand, I'll post the 2nd chapter on here too and try to continue it.

The echoes of footsteps rang in your ears as you desperately tried to keep your vision steady and clear, but the endless amounts of ice and snow decided to make that task difficult for you. You had just recently stepped foot into Dragonspine, the urge to help out your friends too strong to stop. Amber had recently complained to you that a lot of strange things had been happening on Dragonspine and while she never dwelled on the details you could tell that something was terribly wrong. You were hardly a seasoned adventurer, if you could be even called one. Most of your commissions stemmed from collecting herbs, helping the locals, keeping guard of trade routes and simply cleaning up the great statue of Barbatos, which would take you countless hours because you did not posses a Vision. Even so you weren't too shabby with a sword and you had been on the icy mountain countless times much to everyone's surprise. Ever since the sudden Stromterror attack on the city, Albedo became a wonderful ally as he took you under his wing to show you all of the beauty and mysteries the world could offer. You sat through countless lectures, written and read endless theses and notes but you still lusted for more, just as much as Albedo did.

The only difference was, knowledge wasn't the only thing you craved in the long run.

It really wasn't that hard to fall for the alchemist, he was so oddly charming that you couldn't help but to be utterly smitten. He had his quirks that others thought were strange but you adored them, it were those little habits that made Albedo, well, Albedo. You wouldn't change anything about him. Your silent adoration came with a price, a price your poor heart just wasn't ready to pay - you had to suffer all by your lonesome. Albedo clearly did not see you in such a light, you were just a student and a friend to him. You doubted he even noticed your longing stares let alone the frantic beating of your heart.

Being in love was hard.

But not being loved back was even worse.

You silently hoped that by doing these tasks he would notice you, he would see you as his equal and hopefully more but that was asking for too much. You were willing to settle for anything, that's how desperate you were. Dragonspine was more than a training ground to you, it was a chance, a chance for you to seize and conquer the heart of the person you admired the most in this world because if you didn't, it felt as though the earth itself would open and it's jaws would swallow you whole! ...well, that is a bit dramatic but that really was how you felt. Even if you couldn't have him, even if he could not love you, just being by his side should be enough for you. Just seeing his face was more than enough to brighten your day.

And the day was yours to seize.

Straight ahead a bit higher on the path was Albedo, a small smile on his handsome face face as he outstretched his arm towards you, a sign that he was going to help you climb up further onto the mountain. You hid the blush that creeped up on you with the soft scarf that you wore, he really was a true gentleman. Times like this became incredibly precious to you as he would finally show you his softer side and you would end up falling in love all over again with him. He greeted you kindly and linked your hand with his own as he lead you down the Snow Covered Path towards the campsite, a comfortable silence between the two of you. Despite the wind and chilly ice, the sun was high up in the sky and its rays outstretched far into the horizon, the soft orange hues bathed the tall mountains in a ethereal glow that made you feel so warm on the inside. The company you had also made things even better than they already were.

"You look so happy right now, I could almost paint you."

Stopping dead in your tracks you turned to Albedo, his comment had caught you off guard. A bright smile was plastered all over his face, his eyes were glimmering with a mischief that you only saw on a few rare occasions. Still, he never said something like this to you, never. 

Archons, was your heart going to explode?

Your stunned silence started to scare him a little so he tried to comfort you by putting his hand on your shoulder, not knowing what kind of impact this entire situation left on you. You swore on your life and everything you ever owned that if a boulder just fell from the sky and crushed you to bits you would die happy. 

Making haste, you quickly ran in front of him, telling him to hurry up unless he wants to stay here out in the open until the sun sets, making this place even more dangerous than it already was. He laughed a little and caught up with you, making sure to throw some snow at you while he could. The two of you walked like that for a while, just enjoying the scenery and each others company before it was time to buckle up and get serious. It was so refreshing to see him like this, so happy and carefree. He was oddly chatty with you today though, which wasn't too unusual but it was indeed noticable. Albedo usually stated the facts and the truth, with the occasional joke if he was in the mood for it but he seemed to be quite talkative today, not that you complained. He asked you how your day was and what you did, while also sharing his own activities with you. He didn't have a lot of time to paint today unfortunately but he did finally manage to get some of his notes and experiments in order, allowing him for more free time in the upcoming days. Still chatting away with him you made sure to take the turn you usually took to get to his camp but before you could he stopped you by suddenly grabbing your wrist. Odd, you thought to yourself.

"Your camp is right here, isn't it? We always take the turn here, I know we do." 

"It is but... I was having some issues so I had to switch locations, unfortunately. Here, come this way instead."

Gripping your wrist a little too tight than you would have liked, Albedo randomly just shoved you into the opposite direction, leaving you confused, downright dazed. You could have sworn that you saw some fire flickering near the entrance but you couldn't even comment on it with how hard and fast he was going right now. The happy atmosphere shifted into this very tense and awkward one, the sheer quietness was so thick you could almost cut it with a butter knife. Only the sound of your footsteps and of the bustling wind remained. You were tempted to speak up but you ended up opposing the idea as Albedo was in a very troubled mood. Was his camp raided, did someone steal something that wasn't supposed to be seen? Albedo did have quite a lot of strange but powerful things lying around the place, it's possible that someone stole some of his notes or tampered with his projects while he was outside of the hideout. Yes that must be it, you reasoned with yourself. Why else would he be acting like this? 

"We're here."

Huh, well that was fast. 

The new camp was located on the opposite side of the mountain and it was buried deep inside of a hard to find cave but he was smart enough to leave a few scratch marks on the wall in order for it to be identified. Not so large to be remembered by random travelers but not too small to be forgotten by him either. Quite smart of him, as usual. 

Letting go of your hand, he offered to take your coat off your hands while you made yourself warmer by the fire. Letting out a sigh of relief you allow the soft flames to tickle your chilly fingers. The sudden smell of meat being cooked overtook your senses, causing you to let out a cheerful laugh. Turning your head to the side you noticed Albedo tending to his own flame, a nice, large black pot was placed over it, filled with meat and hearty veggies, perfect for a delicious stew. His eyes sparkled with joy as he grabbed a nearby spoon and carefully stirred the stew, the intense smell of it even made his stomach grumble. A comfortable silence overcame the two of you, much to your relief. That earlier interaction made you feel a little tense but it was nice seeing him in high spirits again, even a genius like him gets lonely from time to time, you pondered to yourself. Your train of thought was stopped suddenly once you noticed the unsatisfied scowl on Albedo's pretty face. Frustration was written all over it as he suddenly stood up from his chair and grabbed his jacket and bag.

"I need to go out and get a herb or two, I'll be back before you know it. There should be some nearby, they'll make the stew that much more delicious."

With his back turned to you he started walking towards the exit, but before he left he had one final thing to say to you.

"Feel free to stir that thing every once and a while, maybe even read a book if you get too bored. But don't touch anything on that table in the corner, okay?"

His tone was gentle and the request was simple so you nodded with a smile on your face, saluting him in the process. With a chuckle he turned his back to you once more as he existed the cave, his footsteps were getting farther and farther away from the cave.

Soon enough you were all by your lonesome, your only companions being the few scraps of paper that were littered on the ground, the boiling pot and the crackling fire that sat next to you. You grabbed the wooden spoon and examined it in your hand, while also keeping an eye on the stew. The hearty smell made your tummy grumble which caused you to let out a semi loud groan as you dramatically held your stomach with your free hand, your eyes still zoned in on the food. You sat there for a few minutes, just enjoying the peace and quiet. It didn't take long for your stomach to act out again, begging you to just eat something. Besides, who knew when Albedo was coming back anyway. He was definitely more familiar with the mountain and terrain than you were but that still didn't change the fact that you were starving. 

Standing up from the chair you decided to look around for something to munch on before your companion turned up once more. There were a couple of old oak tables in the cave with thousands of books and even more notes scattered across their surfaces, a clear sign that Albedo had been quite busy for a while now. You quickly scanned through everything but nothing caught your eye, to top it off there was no food in sight. He probably used up the rest of his leftover supplies to cook this little feast that was bubbling away in the corner, but you digress. 

Your fingers gently traced the edges of the tables as you occasionally stopped to go through the various documents, even tidying up little areas here and there. Albedo really could be sloppy sometimes which why you took this tiny liberty. As you stood there with several books in your hands you couldn't help but to look at the table in corner, the one table Albedo warned you not to go anywhere near. You first turned your head to the side, a little angry at yourself for even letting the curious thought wander into your mind but the more you wandered around, the more fidgety you became. For starters that table was suspiciously tidier than the rest but somehow had even more junk on it compared to the others. An old lamp was on it, the wick inside of it was clearly lit not too long ago. You didn't even notice that the sun had started to set and just how colder and darker your surroundings had become. The only heat source was the fire that cooked your dinner, but even that threatened to go out any moment now. You had some matches in your pocket, surely you could light up this one lantern... right? You cautiously walked towards the forbidden corner, the contents on it remaining a complete mystery to you due to the darkness that continued to expand all around you. You were barely able to make out the small lantern, it's lid already open a little bit. You reached out to your pocket and took out your matches and tried to light them up. The first one went out almost immediately. The second one stayed lit for a few seconds but before you could even get it close to the lantern, it also faded. Grumbling to yourself, you grabbed a third match and prayed to the Archons to just let you light this stupid thing already. With a steady motion, you carefully tried to grab the lantern with your other free hand but you didn't even realize just how shaky you were. The match suddenly slipped right past your fingers and the lit flame fell onto the papers that were beneath you. With a shriek you picked everything up hastily while also trying to repair the damages you stupidity caused. You cursed yourself for your clumsiness, who knew how Albedo was going to react? He even told you not to go near this dumb table, you really should have listened to him... He was definitely going to notice what you did, so, you might as well try fixing them up while you could... That would hopefully make him a little less angry with you.

Stepping closer to the entrance, you held the papers tightly to your chest as the strong wind almost knocked you over, but your determination was unwavering. You were going to fix this mess and that's final. With the few glimmers of light you finally looked at the contents of the papers, but instead of the usual notes that you were used to you were met with something much more... gruesome.

With a shriek, you threw the papers to the ground, but your eyes remained glued to them none the less. Icy chills coarsed through your veins as you looked at the images that were staring back at you, another scream threatening to break out. 

On the ground was a drawing of a mutilated Albedo, with another Albedo that was standing above him with a bloody sword in his hand and a devilish sneer on his lips. The image itself was already disturbing, but it were the little details what caused you to freak out so much. The look of absolute fear in his eyes, the organs that were ripped apart from his stomach and were tossed so carelessly to the ground. His intestine decorated the bottom part of the page like grass as the Albedo above him held his weapon, his sneer forever engraved in your mind. You didn't even notice him holding a bloody heart in his other hand, the fist was high up in the air, like it was being shot up into the moon. 

With shaky knees you crouched and took the papers in your hands and examined all of them. Some contained notes in a language which you could not decipher, the sharp penmanship made you woozy. Other pieces of parchment contained more drawings, each more disturbing than the last one. Human hearts, the general human anatomy, several scenes across Dragonspine were all drawn with a simple pencil but what stuck out the most were the portraits of Albedo, Sucrose and yourself. All of them were done with pristine detail, there was obvious care put into every little line. You sprinted towards the table, your anxiety skyrocketing beyond the roof, You moved everything around, hoping to find something that would explain the gory and eerie drawings but instead of answers you were met with even more questions - several pictures were hung up on the wall in front of you, all of them had Albedo as the center focus. It was him walking, eating, studying, drawing, sleeping, living...

It was beyond disturbing.

There were hundreds of little notes stuck and hidden in any corner of the table, all of which contained information about Albedo and his life. His height, his clothing, weight, everything was there. Your lungs felt like ice as you hyperventilated, your mind just couldn't comprehend what was going on. Why was he keeping so many methodical notes about himself, what was up with these sick drawings? Sick, there really was no other word to describe them. Repulsive, disgusting, sick, it was too much to handle.

To add more fuel to the fire, you suddenly felt a thin blade being pressed against your neck.

[zoeoe-sims]

WIP Update (Pottery Mod etc.)

Heyo, figured I'd give an update on my WIPs, especially as I mentioned previously about making a post about the pottery mod and proceeded to not do that...

Long story short, I had to take a break from working on the pottery mod for a little while, then I didn't pick it back up when I could, became afraid to look at it, started other WIPs including a cow mod and a script modding tutorial project, and now am working on a project tangential to the pottery mod - a material state editor tool! I'm pretty excited about it because I'm diving into using S3PI and I'm honestly just surprised it's working out so far. This tool should make it less tedious to add all the glaze types to the ceramics for the pottery mod, and maybe someone else will find it useful too! At least my future self will if I make another mod that involves objects with material states... otherwise it's me spending 50 hours working on a tool to automate something that might take 5 hours! Yay technology...! I'm also hoping this post will help get me back into working on the pottery mod itself... I already had to fix a problem I so kindly left for myself in the code before I stopped working on it, in order to finish getting the screenshots, so that's good?

Anyway here is an overview of the pottery mod so far, and my plans for it:

Interaction

I have a Make Ceramic interaction, with the converted sims 4 pottery wheel, where you can pick the ceramic to make and the sim will sit at the wheel, and make it! I still have more animations to convert but I might not do all of them for simplicity's sake.

Skill

Currently just have a basic pottery skill, which will determine which items your sim can make, but I could add a couple of skill stats and maybe challenges.

Objects

I've also made some progress on converting the sims 4 pottery objects, but it will also be easy to add other objects to the XML file if you want.

Glazing

I also have an XML set up for selectable glazes, so you can pick in game which sims 4 glaze you want for the sims 4 objects, as well as a default one which will be fully CAStable. It's therefore possible to add selectable glazes to other objects, but you'll need to be comfortable adding the textures as material states rather than regular presets. But CASt has you covered anyway :p

Kiln

The kiln object is where you finish the ceramics, either choosing a sims 4 glaze or a normal CAStable version. Sims 4 has the kiln process be almost instant, but I have it so the ceramic will take a few hours to finish and your sim can come and pick it up later - like the nectar machine from WA.

Still to do:

Finish converting the sims 4 ceramics

Set up the glazes for them

Add more pottery animations

Skill improvements

Add sounds to wheel and kiln

Mod in action:

[nina-ya]

NINAAAAAAAA!!! MAY I REQUEST: " i don’t think i’ve ever seen you smile" FROM THIS PROMPT LIST PLS WITH LAW OR POST TIMESKIP ZORO (istg he stopped smiling as widely as he did b4)

A/N: HAPPIEST OF BIRTHDAYS TO YOU MY LOVE I do hope it's a great one I love you dearly!! Pairing: Law x Reader CW: None, fluff WC: ~800

It was during these quiet moments that you often found yourself drawn to Law. You found yourself leaning against the railing, your eyes following the sun’s descent as it slowly gets swallowed by the ocean while painting the sky in hues of fiery oranges and yellows. Law stood beside you, leaning against the railings of the Polar Tang, the breeze subtly ruffling the tufts of raven hair that poked out from beneath his spotted hat.

Law wasn’t always so serious. A playful glint in his eyes often revealed itself when he was being particularly mischievous. He wore that smirk more often than not, his humor sharp and always ready with a quick and witty counter during moments of chaos- whether that be in battle or in more lively moments on the submarine. But a soft, genuine smile, the kind born from hours of shared laughter or the quiet contentment of being in the presence of someone that you love, those were the smiles that you rarely saw. The ones that you wish to see more of and the ones you were determined to pull out of him.

You turned to him, drawn to the way his amber eyes fixed on the horizon. His lips flushed and slightly chapped from the sea breeze, were set in a contemplative thin line, hinting at the thoughts that ran through that mind of his.

“A penny for your thoughts?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence, your voice carrying a subtle playfulness as you turned your body towards him.

Law glanced at you, that usual smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he replied in a teasing tone, “That’s all they’re worth?” 

You raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge underlying your features. You brushed off his last comment and jumped right to the point. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile. Like really smile. Not just those little smirks you give when you’re being cheeky.”

His gaze shifted, easing into something more introspective. It was almost as if he was carefully considering your words. The longer he stood there in thought, the more his facade cracked, and you could see something beneath all of that outer shell.

“Maybe I just need the right motivation,” he murmured, amusement laced in his tone as he shifted, turning to face you more fully.

You decided to take matters into your own hands and you reached out and gently poked the side of his torso, testing the waters. At first, his brows furrowed in confusion as he merely shot you a skeptical look, but as your fingers continued and danced along his torso, his lips twitched, and he let out a few huffs of laughter despite himself. 

“Stop that,” Law protested, taking a step backward to escape your assault, yet you stepped right forward and continued, each poke sending ripples of laughter through him until he finally broke, the sound of his snickering filling the air.

You grinned in triumph, your laughter filling the air alongside his. It wasn’t long before Law had to physically restrain you, capturing your wrists in his larger, inked hands to halt your tickling. As you looked up at him, it occurred to you how unusual it was that he had resorted to physically holding you back rather than using his devil fruit abilities. Law had the power to simply teleport either of you away from the other, to escape the situation with the twist of his fingers and the incantation of the word “shambles”. Yet, here he was, gripping your wrists and laughing, his touch unexpectedly tender. It was an odd choice that hinted at something more than what’s on the surface—perhaps a desire to remain connected to you, to experience this moment fully with you rather than having it slip away. The two of you paused, breathless and heaving, the proximity leaving you two staring into each other’s eyes, smiles born from laughter lingering on your faces. 

“There it is,” you said softly, breaking the silence. The satisfaction of seeing him smile with such a rare and genuine expression was something unlike any other and you attempted to commit the sight to memory, afraid that it would be lost just as soon as it appeared.

Law’s grip on your wrists relaxed, and he chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “You something else,” he said, the tone of voice and his words making it seem like the words were more of an admittance of something he had felt for a while but couldn’t quite articulate properly. 

Whatever it was, whatever unspoken words remained, it created layers upon layers of complexity that you wish to peel one by one as the days passed. For now, the tension was masked by the warmth of your smiles, and the silence filled with an intimacy that spoke louder than words could ever convey.

[yandere-daze]

I´ve had this idea plague my mind for the last few days and now it´s finally time for me to unleash it onto the world. Feel free to comment on or ask questions about this idea/ AU if you find it interesting!

This work was inspired by the normalized yandere genshin AU I stumbled upon while scrolling through Tumblr, created by @fancyfeathers

Hope you enjoy!

gn reader

2,2k words

tw yandere, normalized yandere behaviour, mentions of obsession, possessiveness, kidnapping, stalking, murder, emotional manipulation and isolation

Yandere! Genshin Academy/Normalized Yandere AU

In this AU, yanderes are a normal and accepted part of society. Not only are their toxic attitudes and behaviours permitted but even encouraged. Somehow, over the years, people have even started to wish for a yandere as their partners. By Teyvat society at large, yanderes are seen as somewhat of an ideal partner. They´re fiercely loyal and would do absolutely anything for their darlings, right?

And yet, many darlings sing a different tune when reality suddenly comes crashing down onto them when a yandere actually starts pursuing them. Fantasizing about things such as being kidnapped is simply something entirely different compared to experiencing the real thing. And yet, when they call out for help from their loved ones, they´re simply patted on their back and congratulated. Some might even express their condolences to the poor yandere, saying that it always takes a bit of time for a darling to realize that this is for the best.

You are one of the few people who are completely horrified by the concept of a yandere and even more so to see everyone around you treat kidnappings or murder sprees as something completely normal or even romantic. You shudder at the thought of ever attracting the attention of a yandere, knowing that you would have no one to help you avoid that dreadful fate.

Which is why your complete world is turned upside down when you´ve been registered at the wrong academy by mistake. An administrative error, you were told. One, that might take a few weeks or even months to correct.

Now normally, you would have been annoyed but fine with this. You would just have to bear with it for a bit and attend a different school until the error is fixed and you can finally go to your desired one.

But you felt a pool of dread form deep within you when you did some research on the academy you had been wrongly assigned to. It actually wasn´t all that easy to find information on the academy, which you found strange, seeing as this has never been an issue with any other well-regarded academy. But no matter how much you search, nothing concrete is to be found. Only a few abandoned forum posts where people asked around about their missing friend who had last been seen close to the academy in question.

It made you feel a bit uneasy but you figured that it probably didn´t have anything to do with the academy itself. As sad as it was, disappearances were happening all over Teyvat, so this one case wasn´t really of note.

But seeing as you couldn´t find anything else, you figured that you would just need to figure things out on your first day attending the academy.

And oh, were you in for a nasty surprise.

As soon as you sat down for your first lesson, you noticed how strange the atmosphere was. Everyone had been staring at you so strangely when you entered the room, it kind of unnerved you.

After that, a few introductions were exchanged and you slowly calmed down again. Your classmates seemed nice enough and you thought that maybe, your time here wouldn´t be so bad after all.

All that quickly changed when your professor finally entered the room and introduced himself as the instructor who would teach you the subject of "stalking".

Turning your head left and right, you tried to see if anyone else was as shocked about this as you were but to your surprise, no one even raised an eyebrow at this very concerning introduction.

A class on stalking? Maybe this wasn´t what you actually feared and more so a clumsy way of saying that this would be a psychology class focusing on the mental effects stalking has on the victims? With all these yanderes running around unchecked, there were bound to be many victims and so a class like this might actually be beneficiary. I mean surely they wouldn´t actually try to teach young adults how to kidnap someone, right?

Right?

Well, it turns out you were wrong when the professor started outlining different forms of stalking. Following "your darling" around, stalking them online, placing cameras or microphones in their rooms to observe them anytime you wanted.

Your mind was spiraling as you listened to the lecture and you briefly wondered at just what kind of an academy you had been enlisted in. Surely this must be some kind of joke, right? A prank played on newcomers at the academy to get them spooked? Surely someone is going to come in any moment, clear all of this up and then laugh at you actually falling for this?

But no matter how much you hoped for this to be the case, no one was coming. No one was making fun of you for falling for such an obvious prank. In fact, none of your classmates seemed perturbed at all by what was being taught here. How could they be okay with a lesson that basically amounted to "how to stalk someone 101"? You felt like you were losing your mind.

Glancing to your right, you see your blond deskmate eagerly nodding along to whatever the professor was saying and swiftly taking notes whenever a sentence seemed to particularly strike a chord with him. His red eyes practically sparkled as he outlined "helpful tips and tricks for not alerting your darling of your presence" on his paper, using a text marker to highlight a particular passage as if to say that it would come in handy in the future.

On your left, you saw another tall male student and for a moment you hoped that maybe, just maybe, there was someone else here who was bothered by the lecture given. He had a bored look on his face and he was wearing some type of headphones over his grey hair. Was he even paying attention? Maybe he was trying to cancel out the horrific lecture taking place at the moment.

You discreetly leaned over a bit, only to see that he was actually holding a book hidden under the desk, his eyes carefully following the paragraphs of tiny letters. Well, it seems like he certainly wasn´t paying much attention to the lecture because what he was secretly reading seemed to be some advanced material on the success rate of different methods of stalking, from the looks of it.

You quickly turned your head back when you saw him glancing over at you with an unreadable stare. Well, it looks like your hopes were dashed again after all. This guy was nuts too.

Knowing this, you really couldn´t do much aside from waiting for class to be over.

Your small hope that this was just a really strange outlier was quickly destroyed again in your following classes.

Next was a class on emotional manipulation and how to get your darling to depend on you.

Then, a class on how to force yourself into your darling´s life and how to approach growing closer to them.

Finally, the day ended with a lecture on how to kidnap your darling and make them disappear without a trace.

As the bell finally rung, the professor informed your class that there was also an optional class about how to effectively "get rid" of a rival that you can sign up for. You pretended to not be bothered when several students raised their hands to show their interest in attending this course.

You scrambled to get out of your seat as fast as possible, not wanting to stay in this hellish classroom for even a second later. You fled into the hallway and walk by groups of students excitedly chattering about things you didn´t want to listen to.

"Oh, I hope I can find my darling soon! I just know I´ll feel a special connection when we first make eye contact! I´ve been waiting for so long", the first girl swooned as she twirled strands of her long brown hair around her finger, seemingly lost in her own fantasies.

"Agreed. I know that once I meet my darling, I won´t let anything get between us. I will never let them go. It´s only a matter of time", the taller, blue-haired woman chimed in, her voice calmer than that of her excitable friend.

You didn´t like the way her eyes linger on you as you pass by them.

Once home, you tried to make contact with the administrative office again to ask them if the process of your transfer can be sped up in any way. You didn´t want to spend another second in that academy.

With what you have seen today, you were easily able to deduce the true nature of this academy and it left you absolutely terrified.

The fact that you weren´t able to find any information about the academy beforehand, your strange classmates fixated on their potential "darlings" and of course the horrid classes being taught there.

Somehow, you have ended up in an academy for yanderes. Every single person you saw there today was a lovesick lunatic in some shape or form. And the more you thought about it, the more you realized you were in huge danger there. What would your crazed classmates do if they ever found out that you actually weren´t a fellow yandere but someone they could claim as a "darling"? The very thought of it makes you sick. You have to get out of there immediately!

Which is why your heart dropped when after some long hesitation, the person on the phone finally answered you.

"You must excuse me but I´m afraid to tell you that there have been some... unforeseen circumstances that do not permit me to work on your case at the moment. I have been asked to postpone this matter until further notice".

"What? Why?", is all you could manage to say in your befuddlement. You knew bureaucracy can take a long time but for this woman to specifically be asked to postpone this? Just what was going on here?

Again, the woman on the phone hesitated to answer and you could hear a tinge of nervousness in her voice when she finally spoke up. As if she wasn´t sure if she was allowed to say what she was about to.

"I´m afraid that I´m not at liberty to provide this information. The person asking me to...focus on different cases for the meantime wished to stay anonymous. Even so, it is not within my power to refuse their wishes as they have provided our establishment with a generous donation. I sadly cannot help you with this issue", at least the woman did sound generally apologetic but that didn´t really help you in this situation.

Your mind was still reeling as you processed this information. Someone specifically asked for your transferal to not be worked on? Why would anyone do this? And they seemed to have a large fortune too? Why all this to make you stay around?

It can´t be that you already attracted someone´s attention while at the academy, right? Surely that couldn´t be true! You made sure to not interact with anyone directly after you realized just what kind of people attended this school. How could one of these yanderes have "fallen for you" already?

It seemed so utterly unbelievable and if you were being honest, you didn´t want to believe that it was true either. But nothing else made sense. Why would anyone do this otherwise?

Noticing your prolonged silence, the woman spoke up once more.

"I´m sure that all of this will be resolved soon. It will only be a few months. I am sure you will find many friends at your current school soon."

You sure hoped not. The thought of being noticed by any of the yanderes already made the hairs on your neck rise. You vowed to stay away from anyone who even showed a fleeting interest in you. You had to keep yourself safe until you can finally switch schools. You could do this, you had to!

You barely registered when the woman bid you farewell and hung up the phone after you once again didn´t answer her.

Now completely alone, you forged a plan. If you didn´t want to get involved in anything dangerous, no one could find out that you were actually here by mistake and not a yandere. Nothing could be worse than these lunatics finding out that you´re a darling, so you´ll have to be very careful. But how do you do this?

Well, it seemed like you must act like a yandere yourself. You would have to pretend that you´re a lovesick fool who totally isn´t bothered by all this talk about kidnapping, stalking, and murder. Thinking about it again already made you sick but you didn´t really have any other options. No one could find out or it was over for you.

You only hoped that you could convincingly play the part and that no one was perceptive enough to see right through you. Well, it couldn´t be that hard, right?

Surely no one already had their eye on you. Right?

[the-bitter-ocean]

(ACT 3 SPOILERS) Hi everyone! I Wanted to post writing I did for @tealgoat In tales of time au!! For context it’s set around act 3, where Odile reached the end for the first time with a family run. The art I used in this post is made by teal and you can find the links to those drawings individually over here and here! Writing is under the cut:

< You’re here again. >

< But something feels different. >

< You managed to beat the king like always… but this time..>

< This time you had the courage to call your companions your family. >

< You got to understand all of them a little better and in turn that made you all grow closer. >

< Is that what you needed? Is that the solution to the problem? >

< You didn’t think that helping them would amount to anything much, but the story’s outcome changed a little didn’t it? >

< Even if it was small.. you know how important it is. >

< Your father used to tell you that rereading a story allows you to see details you may have not noticed on a first pass. >

< That it can your change your entire perception of the story itself, even. >

< Is this what you needed all along? >

<Your heart feels warm. >

< He used to read you stories like that all the time. >

< Fairytales about love and friendship saving the world. >

< It gave you comfort then.. and it seems it’s giving you comfort now. >

< You’ve talked to everyone.. they all said different lines then the ones you’re used to.>

< With that logic in mind.. then it should be obvious that the Head Housemaiden should say something different. >

=> < Talk to her. >

=> < Don’t talk to her yet.>

=> < Talk to her.>

< You’ve said everything you needed to say to your companions. >

< It’s time for the moment of truth. >

< You approach the Head Housemaiden and greet her. >

< “Hello!” >

< The head Housemaiden smiles at you and waves. >

((“Hello traveling one! Are you done talking to your companions? Yes, wonderful wonderful-“))

< ….?>

((“ I’d like to thank you for accompanying young Mirabelle on the journey. You have my gratitude.”))

((“ Odile, yes? If there’s anything I can do to thank you, please don’t hesitate to let me know!”))

<….?!>

((“I know you will go back on your travels soon but I do hope-”))

<…>

<…… Ah. >

< Of course. >

((“ Just know that no matter what that Dormont will always be open to you! Please come back any…time….”))

((“…!!!! Oh… oh no no no.. oh nonono-“))

< Ahahaha…!>

< You should’ve expected this. >

< Why would whatever happened before change the story’s ending now? >

< Just because you felt loved and safe? Stupid stupid stupid- you should’ve known better! Why did you decide to rely on how you felt instead of looking at the reality of the situation you’re in? >

< You try to breathe. >

((“ Oh Odile! I’m so sorry..!”))

< It’s fine. It’s just the end again. It’s the same. >

((“ I’m so sorry..there’s no way we can stop it now!” ))

< You’ll just be..>

((“- going back! Back when everything started!”))

< You know her lines by heart, now. >

< If you know what happens next…then you can always know how to react and never be disappointed.>

< You’re fine. >

< You’re…>

<| “…? Odile?” |>

<| “Is everything okay?”|>

< You turn your head and look in Siffrin’s direction. >

< He’s staring right at you. >

< You can’t shift your expression fast enough. >

<| “ Odile what’s wrong- “|>

{“ Head Housemaiden, is something the matter?” }

((“ I cant fix it on my own, not before it all ends… if only I noticed it all sooner!”))

[“Huh? What’s happening? ]

(“ Dile?”)

< You can’t move. >

< You’re frozen. >

{ “Madame, what’s-Urgh!”}

[“ Is something happening? The air around us.. it feels like.. AGH!” ]

(“ My head hurts!!!”)

((“ It’s my fault you have to suffer like this…”))

<| “ODILE!!!”|>

[“ M’DAME!!!”]

< They’re all running, reaching towards you..>

(“ Dile come back! Somethings wrong!!!”)

< You have to move. >

{“ MADAME ODILE!!!!”}

< Maybe you can catch Isabeau’s hand if you reach out to him. >

((“I just hope that one day..”))

< You slowly hold your hand out for him to hold. >

< You take a step forward. >

((“ You could learn to forgive-“))

< And you- >

__________________________________________________________

<You open your eyes, your hand reaching out to nothing. >

< You’re back in the store once more. >

< You grip unto the shelf and take a deep breath. >

< Foolish. >

< You press your fingers against the bridge of your nose and adjust your glasses. >

< You laugh quietly as you can. >

< You truly believed this could work, didn’t you?>

< You really thought helping them all would be the key to your escape! >

< That if you helped them, if you were loved, then surely it had to free you, right? >

< Hahahahaha! >

< That was awfully childish of you! >

< They loved you but it’s not enough to save you! >

< And why would it? When has anything ever been that simple for you? >

< You should know better. >

< Everything was reset back to the beginning. >

< Any character development reversed and undone. As if it never happened at all. >

< Mirabelle is back to feeling out of place because of her identity. >

< Isabeau is still hiding everything about himself, pretending to be something he’s not. >

< Boniface is back to feeling like they’re useless and that they don’t contribute enough to the rest of you. >

< Siffrin won't remember the times you spent together.. back to being scared of you..! >

< And you're back here.. again.. and again .. and again! >

< That's what you get for hoping! That's what you deserve, for being so blinding incompetent and - >

< You slowly look up and glance at the clock. >

< Siffrin will enter the shop soon, won't he? >

<…>

< You need to cut this spiral of yours short then. That’s fine, it’s not like crying ever did you any favors.>

< Focus on the present. >

<The power of friendship didn't work. That’s fine. >

< All you can do is try something else now.>

< You owe it to everyone to keep going. >

< The story isn’t over for you yet. >

| You got a MEMORY OF FAMILY! |

< You'll always remember this. >

| When equipped, Memory of Family doubles everyone's EXP gained in battle, except for yours. |

[cinnamontoastcrunch-15]

HI I'M BACK here's a oneshot that I got the idea for in the middle of uni.

Also apologies that I haven't posted at all in January I'll be back properly I promise.

"It's not too late to back out, if you want," Remus offers, turning to Sirius.

"As if. We're here now, Moons. Besides, I think freaking out your entire extended family is a perfect use of my time." He holds out his hand, offering it to Remus. Remus rolls his eyes, but Sirius doesn't miss the smile that comes as he reaches out to grab his hand.

Honestly? Part of Sirius does want to run away. A big part of him regrets to agreeing in the first place.

Still, he's doing this for Remus.

"Me? Why in Merlin's name would you say my name?" Sirius asked, a little dumbfounded.

"I panicked!" Remus said back. "She was so excited about the possibility of me bringing a guy to the wedding, and I only really know three guys!"

Well, he wasn't exactly wrong.

"You don't have to come," he said quickly. "I just figured it wouldn't hurt to ask? Four hours, free food, freak out my relatives who don't know I'm gay?"

"When you put it like that..."

Four hours in a liminal space where he can call Remus Lupin his boyfriend. Embarrassingly enough, Sirius has had dreams about this. Maybe not as a sudden stand in to make Hope happy, but he'll take whatever he can get, really.

It's going to suck when the night is over, though. His one scrap of self preservation was the only thing keeping him from agreeing. There's still a small part of him urging him to run away, protect himself by living with the careful boundaries he's drawn in his head to keep him from breaking his own heart. He knows Remus will never feel the same, and he also knows that he should be a lot more careful to keep himself sane, but he's here now. Surely he should just... embrace it?

The two of them walk through the muggle car park and down to the reception hall.

"Remus!" A girl's voice rings out, and Sirius feels Remus' grip tighten on his hand.

"Hi, Aunt Anna." Remus smiles graciously. Sirius watches the woman grind to a halt in front of Remus. It's as if there's some kind of magnetic field around him that keeps her from getting any closer.

"How is everything? How's the... special school?" She lowers her voice to say this, and Remus' smile strains a little. Sirius looks between them, a little confused. Is there something wrong with whatever stand in Remus is using for Hogwarts?

"Aunt Anna, I graduated in July. And it was a specialised school," he corrects politely. "More focused studies?" He says it like he's had to make this correction over and over. She smiles patronisingly, making Sirius' hair stand on end.

"Of course it was!" Her voice is fake, dismissive, frustrating Sirius to no end. Her eyes finally flick to Sirius, curiosity overtaking any sense of falseness on her face. "Who's this? Brought a friend along?"

"Oh, actually, he's not my friend, he's, er..." He glances a little helplessly at Sirius. Little does he know, the decision to go all in has solidified itself in his head. These stupid, patronising family members are going to respect Remus by the end of the night if it kills him.

"I'm his boyfriend. Sirius Black." He extends his hand with a smile that makes Anna blink, a little taken aback.

"Boyfriend? You're... oh!" She looks around, as if searching for someone else to have heard it. "Well, I guess it makes sense that you're... yeah. Um..." She smooths her skirt down, suddenly uncomfortable. "How did you two, er... meet?"

"We went to school together." Her eyes widen, and he nods. "Yeah, focused studies."

"Oh. Huh. I wouldn't have thought... What- what have you been up to then, Remus?"

"Not much, really."

"God, you're so modest!" Sirius says, quickly wrapping an arm around Remus' waist and pulling himself a little closer. He hears Anna clear her throat, fixing her expression as soon as he turns to face her. "He's gotten so many offers."

"Offers for what?"

"He hasn't told you?" Sirius asks innocently. She shakes her head, and he smiles at her. "He's going to be a doctor. Hospitals are fighting over him."

"A... doctor?" For a second, Sirius thinks he's accidentally fucked up the word, until Remus nods a little awkwardly.

"Yeah, there are a few places offering me spots. It's hardly fighting, though-"

"Haven't you gotten baskets from all five locations? I mean, you're getting offers from America!"

"Yeah, guess so." He shrugs, but Sirius is already happy enough with what he's done. Anna looks between them, a little surprised, before nodding once.

"Nice to see you, Remus." She turns to leave.

"It was lovely to meet you!" Sirius calls after her with a sweet smile.

"Sirius!" Remus turns to him, stunned.

"What?" He asks innocently. "I'm just showing you off a little!"

"She's going to be pissed." Remus bites his lower lip, worried. For a second, Sirius' mind malfunctions, having to tear his eyes away from Remus' lips and back to his eyes when he turns to face him. "She had to write Sam's personal statement for Cardiff Uni."

"Oh, then she can't say a bloody word! Special school, she can fucking bite me." It draws a chuckle out of Remus, much to Sirius' delight. "Right, should we find your mum?"

"Yeah. Yeah, let's go."

Much to Remus' dismay, they run into a fair few of his extended family on the way. Sirius does nothing but fawn over Remus, making sure to push his multitude of achievements. It's not exactly hard to do. If Remus was slightly less lovely all the time, he'd be able to do this. He shouldn't be his family's punching bag, and Sirius isn't about to let that continue. He's not even lying, he's just pointing out the things he notices every day. It's scarily easy. He manages to get two judgemental uncles to back off, as well as the boy who can't even write his own essay, clearly pushed over by his aunt and forced to flaunt a few flimsy achievements. Sirius feels a little bad for him, so he's not as obvious about pushing Remus' life to the forefront. It works all the same, getting Sam away before he could even start talking about the fact that Minnie wanted Remus to consider training to teach at Hogwarts.

By the time they reach Hope, Remus has turned bright red. It's a magnificent sight. Sirius wishes he could do this every day.

"Remus! Oh, and Sirius! Hi!" Hope is clearly a little tipsy, cheeks flushed as she beams at the two of them, pulling Remus into a hug, promptly followed by Sirius. "I'm so glad you could make it, Sirius."

"Wouldn't miss it," he answers back with a grin.

"Yeah, that's what I'm starting to get," Remus mumbles under his breath. Sirius hasn't missed the fact that he's standing a little taller than he was when he walked in, though. He's just too nice to push back at his family. "Mum, don't be surprised if Aunt Anna says I've grown into a rude young man as soon as she's got a drink down her."

"Why? What happened? Oh, she's always been a bit of a-"

"No, it's nothing. I just want you to be prepared." Remus waves her off, but Sirius has other plans.

"She was being shitty," Sirius answers with a shrug. Hope turns to him, and he elaborates. "She kept talking to Remus like he's a child! The moment I pointed out that he's actually pretty smart, in a pretty tame way, actually, she turned and left. I didn't think it was that bad."

Hope looks between the two of them, before bursting out laughing. Remus and Sirius exchange a slightly confused glance, as Hope tries to pull herself together.

"Oh, I'm so glad you-! I've tried my best, but she just- I don't think she cares what I say. I can't believe you managed... thank you, Sirius, that's absolutely brilliant!" Sirius beams at a stunned Remus, pleased. At least it wasn't just him who thinks that Remus' extended family are a bunch of self-centered wankers. "Honestly, Remus has talked non-stop about you, I'm so glad he finally found the courage to ask you!"

What?

Sirius' heart does a strange thing where it skips several beats all at once, making him feel a little dizzy.

"Non-stop?" He asks, trying to keep his voice casual.

"Yes, absolutely non-stop!"

"Mum," Remus says quickly, shooting her a glance. She seems completely undeterred, though.

"I told him it was worth taking the risk a long time ago. I mean, you're a lovely boy, and it's clear how much you care about him. It's just nice to know that it all paid off! I had a good feeling about you two-"

"Mum, I'm going to get a drink," Remus interjects suddenly. "I'll be back in a second." She looks like she's about to protest, but Remus is still going, voice slightly unsteady. "I'll tell you what Sirius said to everybody after. Come on, Sirius."

He grabs Sirius gently by the arm, pulling him in the direction of the bar before Sirius has a chance to say anything. Before they reach the bar, he veers off and shoves a door open. They turn a corner and get into a cramped room absolutely full of fold-able chairs. Remus shuts the door and lets go of Sirius' arm, scrubbing a hand over his face and leaning against the door. His hands are shaking, and he looks a little like he wants the ground to swallow him whole.

"...I'd have quite liked to hear more," Sirius says eventually, breaking the weird silence. Remus finally looks up at Sirius, a mix of confusion, frustration and panic evident.

"I feel like that was embarrassing enough," Remus answers simply, eyes flicking back to the floor.

"Is that why you asked me?" Sirius asks suddenly. He knows he should really say more, but he has countless questions, and he needs at least one of them answered. Remus nods once, playing with his fingers.

"Mum made the guess. She wouldn't have believed me if I'd said no."

"Because you've been talking about me 'non-stop,'" Sirius supplies, careful to use Hope's exact words. Remus nods quickly, face turning much redder than it had been before.

"Sorry," he says before Sirius can say anything else. Sirius frowns.

"For what?"

"Lying to you. I mean, I basically tricked you into this whole thing because I didn't want to disappoint my mum."

"You gave me an out multiple times," Sirius tries, but Remus isn't done.

"And for, er... what my mum said. I didn't realise that she'd... you can leave, if you want. I wouldn't be pissed. I mean, fuck, I wouldn't be pissed if you didn't want to speak to me for a while." Okay, now Sirius is much more confused. "I... I really hope this doesn't ruin our friendship, though. I know it's probably going to feel weird now, and I get that, but I- Merlin, I really don't want to lose you, Sirius."

"Remus," Sirius starts gently.

"I mean, we could just forget that she ever said that. I've been perfectly fine living like this until now, I'll be okay."

"Moony."

"Sorry. God, if I'd known that was going to happen I wouldn't have... I could have just... I don't know, fuck, I'm so sorry-"

"Remus!" Sirius finally manages to snap him out of his strange, apologetic tangent. "I just want to make sure that I haven't hideously misunderstood what your mum said. You like me?" Remus nods, and Sirius takes a step closer. "Romantically?" He nods again. "And you have for a while now?"

Remus barely gets a chance to nod before Sirius closes the gap between them, connecting their lips. He hears Remus gasp as he pulls away, locking eyes with him and watching him carefully. For a second, he watches as Remus' brain speeds up, eyes scanning over Sirius' face as he tries to process everything.

Eventually, he seems to throw out every thought in his brain, cupping Sirius' face in both of his hands and kissing him back. Time stops as Sirius is caught up in the feeling of Remus' lips on his, one hand moving from his face and into his hair, his own arms moving impulsively to wrap around Remus' waist. It's everything Sirius could have imagined and more. Part of him still thinks he's imagining things, that there's no way Remus is actually here kissing him. It's overwhelmingly perfect, making Sirius feel a little giddy with the joy rising in his chest-

"Oh my Lord!" A shrill voice that Sirius recognises as Anna interrupts them, forcing them apart. "I- I'm just- right, um... I- okay." She turns and leaves, absolutely dumbfounded, eyes wide and a little horrified. For a second they both look at the closed door, before turning to exchange a glance. The moment their eyes lock, Sirius starts laughing. It doesn't take much for Remus to join in, as Sirius drops his head on Remus' shoulder and Remus laughs along with him.

Fuck Remus' strange extended family.

Nothing can ruin this for them.

[kingofbodyrolls]

Why I left, and why I’m staying

Before we begin, a gentle warning: this post touches on some heavy topics—self-harm, suicide, childhood trauma, and mental health. If these are tender places for you, please take care of yourself first. You don’t have to read this. You come first. Always.

The breaking

I wish I could say there was one reason I left, one singular thing that cracked me open and made me disappear. But life isn’t that neat, is it? It was everything, all at once—the weight of low engagement, the endless comparisons, the silent echoes in the spaces where I hoped for connection. It was the exhaustion of always lifting others while I crumbled beneath my own hands, the way I’d pour and pour and pour until my cup was bone-dry.

I’ve never been good at putting myself first. So I did something drastic. I erased myself. I deleted my blog. And even though I know I needed to do it, even though I was drowning—it still stings. Because I know I disappointed people. Because I felt like I failed.

But sometimes, you have to lose yourself to find yourself again.

The staying (or at least, the blog is)

Fifteen years. That’s how long my original blog existed (RIP, old friend). It was a part of me, woven into my story. And even when I stepped away, I still felt the pull—the whisper of unfinished business. I missed the good parts, the warmth, the shared love for stories. And most of all, I felt like I owed it to you—to the people who found pieces of themselves in my words—to keep those stories alive, even if I wasn’t always here to tend to them.

I don’t know if I’ll be active. I don’t know if I’ll post new things. The same reasons that made me leave still sit heavy on my chest sometimes. But I’ve learned something in all of this: healing isn’t a straight path. It isn’t a neat little checklist where you wake up one day and—boom!—all better. It’s messy. It’s cyclical. Some days I feel invincible, and some days I feel like a ghost haunting my own life.

I’m staying, but I’m staying on my own terms.

The healing

Here’s the scariest part: I don’t really know who I am. I don’t know where I begin and where my trauma ends. For so long, I’ve been a collection of survival tactics, stitched together with coping mechanisms and old wounds. I’ve been the person who tries to fix everything—people, situations, the cracks in the universe itself—because maybe if I can make others happy, I can be happy too.

But that’s not how healing works.

And I want to heal. I want to love without needing to be needed. I want to give without emptying myself. I want to exist simply because I deserve to exist—not because I think I have to prove my worth to anyone.

In my time away, I rediscovered something that’s been a lifeline: poetry. I wrote my pain into verses, shaped my grief into something tangible, something outside of me. And somewhere in that process, I found a little light. Enough light to choose to stay. Enough light to call my doctor that day instead of following through with a plan I had convinced myself was necessary. Enough light to realize that I don’t actually want to die—I just want the pain to stop.

And now, I want to live. Fully, wholly, authentically. I want to love my husband and my kids the way I needed to be loved as a child. I want to keep giving—but from a place of joy, not from a place of depletion. I want to share, not because I need validation, but because I already know I am enough.

So if I pop in and out, know that it’s not because I don’t care. It’s because I am taking care. Of myself. Of the little girl inside me who deserved softness, but never got it. Of the future version of me who deserves to be whole.

To you, with Love

If you’ve read this far—thank you. Truly.

If you are struggling, if you carry trauma, if your mind feels like a storm you can’t escape—please, please know: you are not alone. Even in a crowded room, even when it feels like no one sees you—I promise, someone does. And if you ever need someone to talk to, I am here (or on Discord, same username).

Please, take care of yourself. Please stay.

The world needs your light.

And I will be back 🌻☀️

[dollyyun]

before i go tweaking and whoring (again) on here because of those concept photos, just wanna explain briefly (not really) about my absence from this blog (for anyone who cares):

long story short, mental health got in the way and i kinda lost lots of interest in many things including writing but then my hate towards my own writing got worse to the point i considered deactivating this blog bc i genuinely loathed my writing especially after doing some reading on the full fics i’ve written.

i’m gonna be real honest when i say my own writing sucks so bad. full stop. no. and pls don’t comfort me by saying that “but your writing is really good!” bc it’s honestly not and it’s horrendous especially to me. this is not me trying to fish for compliments bc i’m being honest that it got to a point where i’ve spent months ruminating about this. there’s something lacking in the way i write and after doing some readings and analysis on my own writing, it feels…soulless? lack of emotions? as if the entire writing itself was written by AI, which i didn’t and would never. i’ve spent sleepless nights typing and brainstorming, especially the original dkp series, so yeah i will get pissed off if someone were to ever accuse me of using AI. i only ever used grammarly tools to fix my grammars because i wanted perfection, and this is not to say that my fics were perfect obviously.

so yeah that’s how i feel about my own writing but after confiding in my trusted friends and close moots on here, i decided to not impulsively deactivate this blog like i once did. but at the same time, i decided to ghost this blog because ngl i felt guilty every time i was active on here without posting fics because of my slow ass (slow probably bc english is not my native language), and i didn’t want to annoy anyone bc i know there will be some ppl that are like “post fics instead of yapping or posting shit that is not fics”. but this is not to say that my fics are good or my posted fics were that good for ppl to anticipate ongoing or new works from me. it’s just..how i felt.

tbvh i thought that was it to my writing journey or the end of my blog because i genuinely fell out of writing and enhablr hard. but then one day, out of nowhere, i felt a tiny spark from my not-so-dead love towards writing.

then slowly, it got to a point where new fic ideas came to mind and i was so so excited, and it reminded me of the time whenever ideas came to mind back when i was working on og dkp series.

anddd that’s about it. gosh this is so fucking dramatic and embarrassing of me i need to kms when it shouldn’t be, and i know i don’t really owe anyone here an explanation, but then a part of me felt awful bc you guys have always been super nice and loving towards me :( i really don’t deserve any of this or you guys.

also, i’m not entirely back yet and i cannot promise when i’ll be posting fics because i need to hone my writing skills and practice on how to execute a writing that will make a reader feel emotions, and it’ll take some time, which means i will be taking my time and really pace myself. i need to feel happy and satisfaction about my writing even when i know that my writing won’t ever come close to being the perfection i envisioned. maybe my new improved writing won’t be as any good as my old one but at least i know that it was worth the try and i really am excited for you all to read the new ideas/fics i’ve even come to fall in love with.

so i hope you guys are not too mad at me about it. thank you to those who are still here reading my shit and supporting me even when they’re not any good <3

okay i think i’ll be whoring on here after i’m more coherent bc i really need to sleep rn.

[stitchposts]

Heyo! Had two questions - one a little less relevant to your blog but I thought I'd shoot my shot :D

First off, do you have any experience with visible mending using embroidery techniques? Both my denim jacket and favorite sweater are getting worn out after years of constant wear, and I'm unsure how do deal with some of the holes. My main issue is that the very ends of the sleeves are simply... splitting open? Like the fabric got so thin from whatever stress I apparently put it under, it fecking disintegrated. It seems simple enough, straight line on an edge, but I'm worried about messing it up anyway.

And, speaking of my jacket, with it falling apart a little and me seeing more about battle vests and the like, I've been wondering about trying to embroider it, maybe make some patches... I have a bunch of cotton embroidery floss that was gifted to me years ago, but not only have I not embroidered much since learning it in school more than 15 years ago, this is also literally my only (wearable) jacket. The other two are a 10 year old fake leather coat that is peeling itself and also doesn't fit right, and a windbreaker in terrible colors that, if I remember correctly, is too badly damaged for me to know how to easily fix it. Meaning just going ham on it is a big risk. Do I try to find my first new jacket since 2019 and hope to stumble upon one satisfactory in both price and fit? Do I just pray and start fixing up my denim jacket? What else do I need anyway? I got thread and sewing needles big enough to fit it, but nothing else.

Help.

Thanks! <3

This post got kinda long even for me, sorry. First off, this is all embroidery related imo, this is still about stitching on fabric. A square is always a rectangle but a rectangle is not always a square. There's nuance under the umbrella of 'embroidery' here and this counts.

There does reach a point when clothing can't really be repaired anymore, and after that point, historically became rags, or the patches used to repair other clothing. You'll eventually need a new jacket, but if your choice is to immediately find one now or to repair your jacket and buy time to be able to locate one, it seems a bit obvious to me what the option to follow here is, especially if you like the look of visible mending.

This is the part where I wanted to add a cut, but tumblr is glitching out and refusing to add one. So I guess everyone is just subjected to this now. Sorry, and I'll try to have an actual pretty embroidery picture up for everyone to see this week since my furnace is no longer trying to blow up. So: visible mending is at the core applying mending techniques to clothing, and instead of trying to make them invisible repairs, using the stitches or extra material that reinforces the repair to creative visual interest and turn it into a design feature. The stitching itself is done to reinforce the fragile parts of your garment. Sometimes it can be darning, other times it's adhering new fabric to back/cover the fragile parts. It depends on the repair which to use, or even which method the mender prefers. It's not always clearcut and even then, sometimes we prefer doing the thing we know better more than a brand new technique and we bruteforce it to work. So, dealer's choice on darning or patching here, but I'll get to both of them. My opinion of your situation is that you have nothing to lose with trying to repair your jacket that fits you. It's already falling apart, and it's better to stabilize it before it gets worse before there are giant gaps in the fabric. Clean it gently by hand by letting it soak in a bucket or a tub with some ph neutral detergent - do a couple rinses of letting it soak, until the water runs clear and stops smelling foul. Then lay it flat to try on a towel, don't hang it up to dry as that will put more stress on the fabric, I find the shoulders are usually one of the first places to give out on my stuff but I am very broad shouldered. In my opinion, gaps in the fabric at high stress spots like the cuffs should have new backing fabric added to the weak spots, and then the visible mending can adhere that in place. If you were to make new embroidered cuffs you could just sew them on, and protect the integrity of the base fabric, the same way patches do. But you may prefer other options. For darning there's a few ways to go about it. Darning itself is using new threads to weave through the holes in fabric, and stabilizing it past the delicate thin edges of the base fabric. A dear friend of mine lives and dies by her Speedweve loom these days, and I've seen her work with it. She is one of the top 5 trusted fiber artists in my life so I vouch for these looms being cool as fuck and very functional without having used it myself. I also got her this particular book called Darned Easy, by Sally Simon, that I find interesting that has a lot of patterns in it for darning - I grabbed it at a used book store at some point. I messaged her before I made this point because she follows this blog and would know this part is about her. Hi bud. She's the only one who gets to see the rest of the interior of the book, because it was published in 1981 and I'd rather not use this blog to host scans of books that are that recently published.

You don't need a loom for darning if you know what patterns to follow to darn using your needle, and there are a lot of ways to make darning decorative in the manner you want for visible mending, just use your contrasting threads to stand out on the ground fabric. There's also other books available, a HUGE amount of them because darning's existed for millenia, but this is the resource I physically had on hand that I wanted to use as my example so it's the one you get pics of.

On the other end of repairs, you can applique on patches or reinforcing material, then quilt the material into place, with the quilting being the surface embroidery you are pushing through the layers of fabric in order to adhere them into place. Before anyone replies to this op telling them to fucking look up sashiko, please get off my post. I take umbrage with a lot of embroidery designs being referred to as 'sashiko.' This type of repair on existing clothing genuinely is one of the origins of sashiko as a necessity of life - it was that a pattern was laid down on the clothing or items that needed to be repaired or pieced together, and then quilted into place with running stitches that formed the design, which reinforced the clothing and allowed the fibers to be usable for longer. I really despise the words 'sashiko' 'wabisabi' and 'kintsugi' tossed around casually out of historical context by every fucking art blogger under the sun. Fabric was fucking expensive pre industrial revolution, so preserving clothing mattered a lot. Many different cultures have preferred methods (very often extremely regional even within a country) for mending in a manner that is similar to what we know of as quilting or applique today, but there's a certain obsession with anything Japanese in particular that bloggers love to describe as mysterious and wholesome when it's just a visually distinctive fucking way to repair a hole in a garment and quilt things together to make it warm and functional.

Anyway. My first vest I made, it did eventually disintegrate. I knew it would happen because fucking entropy of the universe and so I managed to find a new vest I could afford at the time when I happened across it, and kept it in a back closet till I was ready to transform it into my dragon vest. I repaired that first vest until almost every seam was paper thin and shredding. I loved it a lot. I wore it daily for years and years. I'm still sad I can't wear it anymore, even though I kept my back patch from it, and I still don't know what the fuck I am going to do with that patch. Eventually fabric is destroyed, after many many years of service and wear. Things die. You can't put resin on your embroidery and make it live forever. But when things finally do perish, you can use the base fabric that is still good to make new patches. You get to design and plan a new battle vest or projects you want to start. If you're not sure yet about how badly you'll be hit emotionally by seeing something you put hundreds of hours into disintegrate into nothingness, then hold off on making this particular jacket your battle jacket holding a lot of purchased patches and such, instead of as a test springboard for learning repairs. This is not me being facetious or jokey. It hits people pretty hard to lose, especially the first time this happens. We're humans that hold bonds with things we like, especially things with that much personal hand investment on it. It won't be a failure on your part if you decide to learn repair and extend the life of this jacket, when this jacket does finally bite the dust. It will happen. The accomplishment here is how much service and use you get out of the jacket past when you thought you'd have to throw it away far earlier than if you had learned to repair it.

[bumblebeehug]

hi friend. i am in desperate need of a chapter 520 reversal. lucy’s body heat is down and our man Natsu needs to help,,, post Alvarez PLEASE💗 love all your fics btw.

i'm yours no matter

Summary: Lucy comes back from a tough job in a terrible state: she's in a coma, Porlyusica won't stop naming risks and consequenses of the damage she's taken, and Natsu wants to throw up out of worry. Notes: glad fortsättning as we say in sweden! christmas is over, i have to study for my test, new years will probably leave me with the worst hangover ever bc when hasn't it :') but here's a hurt/comfort fic to satisfy y'all until the middle of january<3 thank you bluedragneel for this request, i'm obsessed with this trope and might write it again some day teehee :3 Ao3 - FF.net

***

Natsu would never have let Lucy go without him on this mission if he knew the state she’d come back in. He clenched and unclenched his fists while trying to understand what Porlyusica was saying, between odd medical terms and concerned small talk. He didn’t care about the details: he needed to know what happened and how it was going to be fixed.

“Boy, are you listening to me?”

“Huh? What? Come again?”

Porlyusica sighed, a vain threatening to pop out of her forehead.

“This is important. We don’t know how she’ll recover, if she recovers. If she does wake up we won’t be certain if she makes it out without brain damage. Wendy did the best she could, but even her magic is limited.” The fact that Porlyusica wasn’t screaming or yelling with rage, or even annoyingly tapping her foot or actively scowling at him made it clear that this was serious. She tried to appear calm, but in this case it only made him more worried.

“What… does brain damage mean? What would happen to her?” Natsu wasn’t sure he’d like the answer, but he had to know.

“What it entails?” She clarified, getting half a nod as an answer. “Well, if her brain is too damaged, her attention and concentration could suffer, we don’t yet know to what degree. She could also have problems with her memories, and making decisions and motivation would become difficult. This could mean that she’ll be more easily distracted, or she’ll experience information overload and become slower at taking in and making sense of information. Her work as a wizard would be jeopardized.”

Natsu felt a headache creeping on. He wasn’t sure if he properly understood half of that, but it sounded bad. His throat felt thick, swallowing seemingly didn’t help.

“That’s not all though.” Natsu glared at her.

“There’s more?”

He felt ill to his stomach. What could possibly be worse than what she’d just told him?

“We don’t know the exact circumstances around what caused this coma. Her sustained injuries have me worried that she’ll become disabled. It’s not certain she’ll be able to walk or talk like before.”

“What,” he hissed. “Why didn’t you tell me that earlier!?”

“I did tell you, you were just too busy throwing a hissyfit to listen.” If eyes could kill, Natsu would be ten feet under. “I’m not saying there’s nothing to be done, though.”

Natsu almost perked up. He didn’t dare have any high hopes, but a spark of possibility had shown itself: maybe she’d end up okay. Just maybe.

“What we know from the mission is that the client requested protection from a snow monster. Its estimated strength was around ten times the strength of a vulcan, and not only that – it was said to use strange curses. As curses are unregulated, we’re not sure what could have caused exactly this, but we understand that she got thrown headfirst into the mountain. It was Loke that brought her back, but due to how different the time flows in the celestial world, she’d already been out in the snow for a couple of hours.” Porlyusica tried to summarize again what had happened, considering Natsu had been too worried to listen the first time. “We already have Levy, Freed and Makarov working to figure out the curse, but there’s something I want you to do in the meantime.”

Natsu perked up, listening intently. If he could do something, anything, to get her back, he’d do it without a second thought.

“You need to keep her warm.”

“I can do that!” Natsu almost laughed in relief. He’s a dragon slayer – warming things was the thing he did best!

“You have to make the transition steady though. If you heat her up too quickly she could go into shock. Do you understand? You have to start by warming her with your body heat. This is important, you cannot rush things like these.” Porlyusica narrowed her eyes. If he got careless Lucy’s health could be in danger.

“Body heat? So what do I do, just warm her with my hands? It’s gonna take ages.” He fidgeted with his hands, suddenly more impatient than usual. Not to warm Lucy, specifically, just to get her treatment started. He understood how important it was to follow Porlyusica’s instructions: she’d never been wrong about this before.

“Do you remember back when Fiore was at war with Alvarez? You had that tumour in you, and you too were passed out in a coma. Back then, your fire was going out: you were rapidly freezing to death. Lucy was the one who kept you alive, and she did so with skin to skin contact. Today I need you to do the same.”

Goosebumps appeared on Natsu’s arms as he recalled. That was a time he didn’t think fondly of. He went through a lot of hardship back then, even if waking up to Lucy and Happy was something that had given him relief at the time. That’s right, where was Happy?

“Y-yeah, I’ll do it,” he mumbled scattermindedly. “Do you know where Happy went? I rushed here so fast, I’m not sure I told him what was going on…”

Porlyusica sighed. This boy was something else, wasn’t he? Not in the best way either, she feared.

“While you were yelling and getting mad, trying to run to the client of her mission for revenge, I explained everything to him. He’s already gotten a head start. I urge you to join him.” This time her glare was comparable to lazer, earning a hard gulp from Natsu. Still, he was relieved to hear Happy wasn’t in the dark: he knew how much those two meant for each other. If Lucy fell ill and Happy couldn’t be there to help… He didn’t want to think of it. Happy had been much more protective of Lucy ever since he felt Future Lucy die. That went for Natsu too of course.

___

Natsu gulped again and looked back at Porlyusica. Lucy layed behind those hospital drapes, shallow breaths filling up the room. Her scent did its usual work of calming him, but he noticed that it didn’t carry in the air like usual. He was sure that curse and her lack of body heat had something to do with it.

Porlyusica had turned around as she let Natsu undress. She’d seen him in this light attire before, but as a healer she had some courtesy to at least wait until he was finished. Natsu awkwardly cleared his throat, breaking the silence that had filled the room.

“Do I… Take off my underwear?” Porlyusica nearly choked on her own spit.

“No. Please don’t. For all our sake. She’s still a lady.” The last sentence was muttered in a voice barely louder than a whisper, but Natsu heard it. Still, he didn’t want to do anything wrong. “Are you done?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, feeling his arms hang along his sides. This situation was so odd. He wasn’t exactly shy, but being bare like this in a serious situation felt vulnerable. He wanted to wear his scarf, but she had rejected that idea as soon as he said it. Something about the neck being an important area as a heat source.

Porlyusica turned around, not sparing him as much as a glance. Instead she headed straight to the curtains and drew them to the side. There she was. Under a couple of blankets. So still that he’d be worried for her life didn’t he hear her pulse. It was faint, a bit irregular, but there. He’d made sure to really listen for it this time.

“What are you waiting for? Join her.” The healer motioned at the bed.

“It’s so small though…” he puzzled. If he had a Jewel for every time Porlyusica sent him a stare that was out to kill, he’d have enough money to buy not just Lucy’s apartment, but her entire apartment building. He took that as a sign to keep quiet if he was about to question Porlyusica’s methods.

“You’re gonna need to cuddle close anyways, just hurry up. We’ve already wasted too much time.”

Natsu took a shaky breath and lifted Lucy’s blanket. Her bluish pale hands laying against her sides made his heart drop. This was really serious. Just because this was a treatment that could help, didn’t mean that her health would perfectly return. If anything, this was just another flighty attempt to heal her. Surely it wouldn’t benefit her as much as lifting the curse: had Natsu been smarter, maybe he could have helped her faster.

He shook his head. No, he had to focus on what he could do here and now. Worrying about things that could have been wouldn’t help at all, even if he was right about this body-warming treatment only helping a little. It might just be the thing that would keep her away from this brain damage thing Porlyusica had been talking about. He finally crawled into bed beside her.

Cold. She was really cold. His first instinct was to make his own body heat higher, but as he was about to he heard Porlyusica’s warnings echo in his mind. If he didn’t take this slow, new complications could arise. He just had to slowly get used to this sensation.

Porlyusica suddenly spoke up.

“Now, I don’t want you just laying there doing nothing.”

Natsu sent her a confused look. Wasn’t this what she’d asked him to do?

“You need to talk to her. Say her name. Whatever happened on her mission, I’m growing increasingly uncertain of her coma being caused by a concussion. If anything, it’s more likely that it’s a magic coma. And if it’s a curse, nothing helps breaking it better than love. You need to call out to her.”

For the first time in a very long time, Natsu felt himself blush. Just faintly, but the indication that his love for Lucy would be the thing to wake her up, made him feel weird inside. Not a bad weird, just… weird.

“She did the same to you,” she added, only pouring gasoline on the fire inside of him. “If I didn’t think this was important I’d ask for someone else for help, much earlier. Elfman has a large body, he could easily get her to a normal body temp.”

This time, her implications made Natsu tense up instead. He didn’t like the thought of that giant muscle head cuddling with Lucy, skin to skin. He instinctively wrapped his arm around her waist, as to protect her from whatever googly eyed guy that would come waltzing in, in hopes to join them under her blanket.

“Don’t look so stupid. Getting angry gets you nowhere. Anyway, you’re the one who has to do this. If anything can wake her, whether she’s under a curse or not, it’s the connection you share. So I need you to talk to her.”

Natsu once again felt weird inside. He couldn’t pin the feeling down: was it that he felt vulnerable? Or that he felt embarrassed, doing all this in front of someone else? It was awfully intimate after all. Happy was one thing, but having another person listen to him calling out her name like a lost, desperate puppy? Well, awkward or not, it had to be done. He cleared his throat again and looked back at Lucy with determination. He felt his arms lightly shake her from a natural body reaction.

“Lucy,” he tried, his voice sounding weak in the still room. “Hey Lucy, come on… Wake up, would’ya?”

For the first time since Natsu entered the room, Happy spoke up. He seemed like he was in his own world, dazed in worry. Hearing Natsu must have made him realise what had been going on around him.

“Lushy…” The nasal croak he let out made it clear he’d been crying. Natsu envied him a little: he wanted to cry too, but if he did he was sure he’d have a complete breakdown. He had to focus on getting her awake – crying wasn’t an option. Porlyusica shifted her weight. It looked like she wanted to sit down, but she had to join the others with coming up with a cure soon.

“You have to try harder than that Natsu. A tip to not feel like you’re going crazy just repeating her name, is to recall old memories. It’ll keep you busy from anxiety and worry, plus it’ll strengthen your and her resolve. Besides, it’ll make your bond feel stronger. I think that could be beneficial in a case like this.” Porlyusica watched as Natsu turned her words in his mind, trying to understand exactly what she meant. “I’ll trust you to do this now, don’t let her down.”

With those words Porlyusica left the infirmary, leaving Natsu and Happy with their unconscious friend.

Natsu held Lucy close, her icy skin a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from his body. Carefully he glanced at Happy, who looked like he was close to dissociating. If he didn’t start talking now, he’d probably have to deal with two traumatised people who meant a lot to him, and he wasn’t sure if he had the strength to do that.

This thought was enough to kick him into action. He swallowed hard, his voice low and trembling as he spoke.

"Lucy… you’ve gotta come back. You can’t leave us like this." Carefully he grabbed her hand, her fingertips almost blue from lack of blood circulation. His grip tightened just slightly, as if willing her to feel the warmth spreading from his fingers. "I don’t know what happened out there, but I’m here now, okay? So… so just wake up."

He took a shaky breath, tangling his legs with hers, just like he’d done so many times before in her apartment. This time it was different. This entire situation made him want to cringe, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.Why her out of all people? He’d never been the one who solved problems tenderly. He could fight, get revenge, he’d always been confident of his ability to do grand gestures to fix what was wrong. He couldn’t handle things with care, make out nuances in language, emotion or even a thing like physical hurt. If Lucy ever got injured she’d be honest and frank: sure, she tried to go on for a little bit longer than she should, even while having deep gushes through her legs or shoulders popped out of place. But she was honest enough about it that Natsu always knew what to do about it: sear the opening of the wound, fetch Wendy, pop her bones back into place. Those things were child's play in comparison to this. Now he had to carefully heat her up, not too quickly but not too slowly either, while calling out to her, pulling on whatever strings they had on each other’s unconsciousness. He was aware of the connection they shared, and he was normally confident in it: at times he felt like they shared one and the same mind. But this? He wasn’t so sure it was enough anymore.

"You’re always the one who’s there for everyone," he continued, his voice breaking just a little. "You never give up, no matter how bad things get. That’s who you are. So don’t stop now, Lucy. Please… just don’t."

Happy joined in through whispers in her ear, not daring to raise his voice in case it’d crack. Natsu felt his heart break a little as he watched him hold on to Lucy for dear life. It was one thing that Natsu felt like this, but Happy wasn’t meant to be sad: he had spent his whole life making sure he would get the childhood Natsu never got. For him to have to almost lose Lucy twice: it was a pain Natsu could barely cope with himself. He was genuinely worried about his furry friend.

Still, he had to stay focused. He remembered what Porlyusica had told him, about memories being an effective way to keep his anxiety at bay, while still grasping at Lucy’s unconscious.

His thoughts raced, memories flashing through his mind. The way she’d smiled when they took their first job together, the way she’d always trusted him to catch her when she’d fall, how she always knew what to say to get him to keep moving forward.

"Hey, Lucy… You gotta wake up, you know? I promised you we’d go on more adventures, back when we fought against Future Rogue and…" His voice cracked, he still didn’t dare finish that sentence. "Whenever I was a wreck, you were there. You didn’t give up on me, not even for a second. So now it’s my turn, Lucy. I’m not giving up on you."

Happy’s soft, tearful voice chimed in from beside them. "Lushy… we need you. Please wake up."

Natsu’s jaw clenched. He would do anything to get her out of this. He just wished he could do something more effective. Deep in his stomach he felt his fire work it’s magic: he’d been suppressing it so he wouldn’t warm her up too quickly, so to not slip up and unleash a heat wave on the three of them, he took a deep breath.

“I… Guess this is the time to tell you how thankful we are that we met you all those years ago.” Happy met Natsu’s flickering gaze, sharing a small encouraging nod. “We really are thankful. Like, we’d probably be dead if it weren’t for you.” He tried to chuckle at the attempt of a joke, but Happy didn’t seem as pleased. Natsu cleared his throat.

“What I’m trying to say is… well… we can’t imagine a life without you. If I ever had to go back to only sleeping in my swine sty of a house, instead of being with you everyday, I’m not sure I’d be able to keep my sanity. Even when you scream and do all kinds of weird stuff, we need you.”

“Lushy,” Happy sniffled, “what would I do if I had to go back to only living with Natsu? I’d starve! He burns my fish and everything else we own…”

“Oh come on! You’ve survived up till now!” Natsu protested, but couldn’t bring himself to actually find a counter argument. He was telling the truth after all. Happy glared at him and continued talking.

“I know he’s really stupid,” he began, earning a stern frown from Natsu, “but I think he might be the one who’d hate it the most if you died. But that aside, I don’t think I could stand losing you again.” Tears were once again pouring out of his eyes. “You’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to an actual proper mom…”

The last part would have been impossible for Natsu to hear, hadn’t it been for his dragon-hearing. He swallowed the big knot in his throat that threatened to come out as a sob. He didn’t know Happy had felt so strongly about Lucy, though it made sense as he heard it. Of course she was like a mom to him: she was perfect like that. Caring, worrisome at times, but always loving.

“Hey, you heard him, right? You can’t leave Happy after he tells you something like that, can you? So hurry and wake up… You’d never forgive me if I scared you like this, so come on…”

“But you did scare us like that though,” Happy argued.

“Oh can it,” Natsu muttered, raising his body temperature another degree.

While continuing talking, mixing the casual bickering with emotional anecdotes, Natsu started massaging Lucy’s right hand, the one with her guild mark. Laying there, he realised that the colour of it really was the exact same shade as his hair. The thought tugged on his heartstrings. Had she even meant for that to happen, when he made her join Fairy Tail all those years ago? Had she always been determined that it would be the two of them – and Happy of course – teaming up? Even if that wasn’t the case, if it had been her unconscious that picked the shade of pink so close to his hair, he still wanted to tear up. The two of them were so incredibly attached, to the point where Natsu couldn’t even imagine a life without her anymore.

He continued observing her hand as he massaged her soft skin. It was slender, a nuance less blue than it had been when he laid down with her some minutes ago. This realisation sparked some hope within him. They were helping her: it was working. Continuing the talking, letting his mouth speak whatever flew into his brain, he simultaneously went on thinking about her hand. When she proudly showed it off to him when her mark was new, it had been in pristine condition. Soft, flawless, not a callus or scar in sight. Her nails had been long, carefully taken care of, painted a light pink that almost seemed nude in comparison to the bright pink guild mark. As he looked at it now, it was covered in scars. Some cuts from falling on gravel, some webbing up her wrist like veins. He knew that must have been reminiscent of when she rewrote E.N.D. for him. Another constellation of scars resembled shattering, likely scars from when she had to summon the Celestial Spirit King back when they fought Tartarus. Most of these scars gave Natsu shivers. They were all pale and faded now, but he knew they must cause Lucy pain every day. To carry her biggest joy and her worst pain on the same hand seemed taxing.

He brought her fingers up to his lips, pressed them against them lightly. Then he embraced her, letting her limp, cool body rest against his. Her skin was so soft, but he didn’t enjoy this fake cuddle session: he wanted her to be awake, or even asleep would be better: even when she was asleep she ended up reciprocating his cuddles. This made him feel like he was hugging a corpse, and it was quickly rated as one of his least favourite sensations.

In his new position he could hug her from behind, the many pillows propped up behind his back making him sit up slightly. This allowed for Lucy’s head to rest on his chest, right by his collarbones. Carefully he nudged her a little bit to the left. Maybe his heartbeat could aid them in some way: he wasn’t sure how, but it couldn’t help to try. Happy nudged himself between Natsu’s embracing arm and Lucy’s chest, covering up what would be a very revealing view hadn’t he laid there. Any other day her nudity would be arousing for Natsu, but today it didn’t have that effect. Rather than arousing, it gave him a sense of security. Their bodies, pressed against each other, like clinging on to Lucy’s soul for dear life.

He rested his lips on the top of her head for a while. Happy was in the middle of yapping about Lisanna, his biological mom and Lucy, when Natsu suddenly felt her arm twitch. It was small, and he’d disregard it as his imagination hadn’t he heard her breath hitch at the same time.

“Lucy?” He hugged her tighter, squashing Happy a little in the process. “Happy, I think she’s responding. She just twitched! Keep talking,” he urged, nuzzling his face into her neck. He was certain of it: she had reacted.

Suddenly his resolve increased tenfold, his fiery determination bubbling to the surface. He didn’t care how long this took—he’d stay by her side until she opened her eyes.

"Lucy," he said, his tone growing stronger, more resolute. "I’m not going anywhere, got it? You’re stuck with me, so you’d better wake up and yell at us for being too loud or something. You always do."

Once again he thought he saw the faintest flicker of movement—a twitch of her fingers against his hand. His breath hitched.

"Lucy? Come on, it’s me. Natsu." He leaned closer to her ear, her smell filling his head until he felt completely intoxicated. His voice dropped to a near whisper. "I need you. We all do. So please… wake up."

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, her lips parted, and a faint sound escaped.

"N… Natsu…"

His eyes widened, hope surging through him like a wildfire. "Lucy!”

Happy dried his eyes that were puffy from all the crying he’d done. He was quick to jump out of their embrace.

“I’ll go get Porlyusica!” He almost left the room before he turned back, lifted her blanket a little to cover the goods, and then hurried away. Natsu barely registered his actions, his focus being completely tuned in on Lucy.

With a split moment alone, Natsu almost felt overwhelmed with the silence. She’d called out his name, though only faint, but instead of her heartbeat rising to accommodate her waking up, it seemed like it was slightly fading. Worry filled Natsu’s head, the anxiety shooting out prickling sensations in his arms and legs.

“Lucy, what’s going on? Why’s your heartbeat slowing down?” His high pitch made the worry apparent, but he didn’t care. “Shit, come on! Stay with me!”

He rocked their bodies back and forth in hope that he’d manage to keep her heart pulsing. It was quickly made apparent that it wasn’t enough, when for a split moment her heart missed a beat.

This time he couldn’t conceal his panic. No one was nearby, Lucy was fading away by the second, and all Natsu could do was choke out a small “Please…”. He didn’t know what to do, tears welling up in his eyes faster than he was prepared for.

“Don’t leave…” he croaked, sobs filling the silence. “Shit, Lucy, I can’t live without you… I love you…”

Had he not been busy pressing her lukewarm cheek against his, rocking them back and forth, and trying to swallow the sobs that leaked out anyways, he’d notice that his confession pulled Lucy’s heartbeat back for a few seconds. But he didn’t notice this: instead he continued his endeavors of grasping whatever life was left in her.

“Lucy, Lucy, Lucy… Please…” He opened his eyes again, quickly regretting it as they soaked Lucy’s face in the salty liquid. He wanted to see her face properly, take in her soft features before it was too late. He grabbed her face with his free hand, slowly letting his thumb caress her cheek. His blurred vision made him miss how her eyebrows twitched into a furrow. Instead he let his heart steer his actions: he didn’t know what else to do.

Pushing her bangs out of her face, Natsu let his lips land on hers. Softly, his hot ones on Lucy’s dry cold ones. His chin quivered – he didn’t want his first kiss with her to be his last one. In fact, he never wanted his first kiss to be with Lucy while she was unconscious at all. He had thought of their relationship for a long time, even imagining them having their first kiss under the stars after a dinner that would leave both of them too stuffed to walk. They were supposed to be joking around, laughing, and he’d look at her, look into her brown, sparkling eyes, that held a universe inside of them, and he wouldn’t be able to contain himself, so he’d lean in and kiss her: and she’d kiss him back. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, in a sterile bed, in the infirmary that had too bright lights, naked under blankets, Lucy dying in his hands.

Still, he didn’t dare to stop kissing her. And good thing he didn’t, because suddenly, for him out of nowhere, he felt her kiss him back.

In shock he pulled away, his eyes big as plates.

“L-lucy? You’re…” Silent tears kept falling onto Lucy’s face. Her eyelids fluttered, and after what felt like an eternity, they opened, her brown eyes glassy but unmistakably alive. She blinked up at him, her voice hoarse but clear.

"You’re… warm," she murmured, her lips curling into a weak but familiar smile.

Natsu laughed, tears streaming down his face. “Don’t scare me like that…” he muttered, a blush spreading across his face before he could stop it. "But you’re back. That’s all that matters."

Lucy slowly brought her hand up, cupping Natsu’s cheek.

“Did you kiss me?”

Natsu avoided her eyes, awkwardly tensing up.

“I thought Porlyusica said you’d have brain damage or something…” Lucy was quick to hit him on his arm.

“Are you stupid? Don’t wish I wouldn’t understand something like that!” Her voice was shrill, cutting through Natsu’s ears like knives, but today he didn’t care about that. He was insanely happy to have her back to normal.

He let out a chuckle, albeit against his own will.

“It’s not like I hoped for our first kiss to be like that.”

Lucy just smiled. She had put out a lot of energy right as she woke up: truth was, she still felt exhausted and honestly a bit dizzy. After getting a good look at Natsu, taking in his worried frown, his wet cheeks and reddened eyes, she closed her eyes again.

“What are you?! Lucy! Wake up!” He violently shook her this time, not allowing her to fade away again.

“Calm down,” she puffed, “I just need to rest a little.” Slowly she sneaked one eye open, observing Natsu as his wrinkle became more prominent.

“How do I know you won’t die in your sleep?”

“Well, for one you don’t keep believing that I will. Don’t manifest it.” She tried to joke, but it was apparent Natsu didn’t understand what she meant. She sighed. “Just… Stay here, please?”

She turned her body around so she laid on her stomach on top of him. It was at this moment she realised the attire they both were in.

“Natsu..?” She whispered against his chest.

“Yeah?” Natsu had started rubbing his hand against her back in a repetitive motion. This time he was making sure she’d stay alive.

“Why are we naked?”

Natsu didn’t know if the sound he let out was a chuckle or a sob – perhaps a mix of both. It was such a relief to hear her worry about her usual things.

“Don’t ya’ worry ‘bout it,” he smiled, continuing to rub her back.

“Well that’s not suspicious,” she mumbled as she slowly fell back to sleep. This time it felt better for Natsu: her body was warmer, her arms were hugging him back, and now he knew any major damages could be disregarded.

That’s when he heard Happy let out a cry of joy, flying up to nuzzle against her cheek. "Lushy! You’re okay!"

Natsu hurried to push him away with a harsh “shh”. Happy would start an argument hadn’t he seen the corners of Lucy’s mouth curl into a soft smile, her eyes opening briefly to greet her feline friend. Her heart twinged at his tearful eyes, but she still managed to give him a playful blink. She wanted to assure him she’d be back to normal soon. Porlyusica stepped forward into the room, her expression as stern as ever, but a hint of relief apparent in her eyes.

"She’s not out of the woods yet. Keep her warm and let her rest. But this… this is a good sign."

Natsu nodded, his arms tightening protectively around Lucy. 

"Ya’ don’t gotta worry. I have her."

Lucy’s eyes drifted closed again, her breathing steadying as she slipped into a more peaceful sleep. Happy hugged her shoulder tightly. He was so relieved that she was okay. And Natsu? He was beyond relief. If he could, he would have cloned himself so one of his bodies could do a celebratory dance, meanwhile the other could stay here, holding her tight, making sure she could stay comfortable for as long as she needed. He didn’t know any cloning magic though, so he let his imaginary clone work the floor beside the bed while Porlyusica hurried around the two of them, counting Lucy’s heartbeat, drawing her blood for testing, checking her pupils for dilating. Despite the worrying things she was doing to her, Natsu managed to stay calm. Maybe it was the deep breaths he felt against his torso, or the tiny, almost invisible nudging Lucy did to get her body closer to his, but Natsu felt at peace.

Everything would be fine. He wouldn’t let her go:  not now – not ever.

[redphlox]

With how much the LOV “destroyed” in the end, looking back now that the manga is done. Would it have been unrealistic for them to be saved with how much damage they did. Do you think it was too much of a hopeful way of thinking, not realistic for almost terrorists pushed by HK as irredeemable to actually live when realistically they would probably still have bad endings and be in jail not getting rehabilitated. I’ve seen posts saying why the LOV died and it would not have made sense for them to live after what they did, and now I’m questioning if HK just intended for this all along. I mean, looking back, maybe there weren’t as many signs for them to be saved as thought and it was just meant for the villains to always be tragic?

I'm not sure if you've been reading my blog for a while or if I'm just someone random you came across in the bnha tag but you could look through my asks and my metas to know my answer. But here I go, on this rant:

No it wasn't unrealistic.

There was foreshadowing and set up. I've talked about it here and so have other meta writers.

Writing doesn't have to follow real world law/scenarios or logic. Not when it's fiction. Bnha wasn't an autobiography or a history textbook. It's fiction. Fiction/stories tend to have plots and their own logic that is delivered by the author through techniques like foreshadowing, etc. Stories have their formulas and set ups to make them feel complete. Bnha failed in these aspects.

Y'all stop coming into my inbox calling bnha a tragedy. You know what's a tragedy? The sinking of the Titanic. The movie Titanic. Harry Potter deals with tragedy. The Hunger Games. Romeo and Juliet.

Tragedy doesn't mean that the story ends in a way that makes you sad or is sad for the characters. It's more complicated than that. You can read about them here and here.

Bnha is not a tragedy. We can't just go around using words without knowing their meanings.

Bnha is unfaithful, uncomitting writing. The story didn't start out "tragic". It was very hopeful. Nothing in the story was tragic up until the ending. And I wouldn't even call it tragic as much as a slap in the face to victims and spineless writing.

The story itself told us that society creates its own villains. So how would you fix that? By society addressing its own villain issue. But instead it gave us this toxic positivity ending with lots of Band-Aids that don't fix system issues.

If "I want to save that crying boy" and "He is me" aren't signs that the characters themselves are supposed to be understood or saved in some way, then I'm not sure what to tell you. If you reread the story and decide that you don't see any signs of the villains redemption, then I'm not sure I can help. I've written over the years a lot about the foreshadowing and themes, and so have a lot of other meta writers. If you want to believe more in blogs who say that bnha had a realistic ending, then that's fine, but know that I don't agree with their analysis from a literature standpoint.

I know a lot of arguments are that the villain's Hearts were saved in the end, but were they? Toga died, thinking it was too late for her to be loved. Yeah, she was happy that someone her age understood her, but even in death, society still viewed her as subhuman and evil. Shigaraki's crying child was acknowledged by Deku, but when the world started finding out about his trauma and grooming, they were still like, "Oh well, he sucks and good thing he's dead." If we're just taking this "their hearts were saved" in an Eastern versus Western perspective, okay cool.

But still, Society hasn't learned its lesson. I'm not saying no one's allowed be angry, but the fact that their attitudes toward actual villains didn't change and that they didn't have any nuance or compassion for these villains they THEMSELVES created tells us that Society didn't change at all. How hard is it to be nice and have compassion for someone who hasn't committed a crime yet, like Scissors-kun? It's not. The real challenge would have been for society to accept these big-time villains back into society or something like that.

One of bnha's messages was that " everyone deserves a second chance" so the story itself was setting up that the villains would have a second chance and thus some sort of redemption. Giving them a sympathetic past was intentional. There was a difference for their set up (tragic pasts, victims of abuse and grooming) versus someone like Muscular who was depicted as a bloodthirsty criminal who was violent for violence's sake.

(I'm not going to pretend like the story was perfect because it did set up that double standard where you have to be sympathetic to get a second chance. Ideally, someone like Muscular would also get a second chance for rehabilitation.)

The Trio lov villains didn't get their second chance. And they wanted it. Toga especially. Touya wanted to die, but he also wanted to have time to argue/talk with his family and say his peace, and we didn't even get to see that either. He's just in some tube, lol. It's hinted, but where is the satisfaction in that? lol.

I'm not sure how many times I have to explain that applying realism/ real world standards to a story about superheroes is incredibly uncreative and ridiculous. "In real life someone who commits crimes goes to jail" no fucking shit. The punitive justice system is broken and doesn't work; why do we want fiction to reflect reality?

In real life, people don't make fire with their arms or make things float by touching them, and in real life you get a brachial plexis injury like Ida and you could be left with debilitating and disabling upper extremity issues. In real life, people don't get their hearts sewed up with jean fibers after they explode by someone who shrinks down into minature like they're on the Magic School Bus. In real life, a muscular, in-shape man like Endeavor would be fitted for prosthetics so that he could be as mobile as possible. In real life, a 250lbs or so man in an electric motorized wheelchair wouldn't be pushed around by his wife because that's why the wheelchair has a motor and a control to move the wheelchair. That makes no sense.

Please yall stop coming into my inbox talking about what's realistic and what's not. It sounds ridiculous. It's a story about people with super human powers.

I think what bothers me most about asks like this is that it speaks a lot about the people's opinions about real life issues. This whole "xyz doesn't deserve Redemption and they should die" isn't a good look for humanity. How do we quantify someone's behavior to a moral code? Who's deciding this moral code? Who is worth saving and who isn't? Who gets to decide?

Those are questions that bnha literally asked and never answered. Lol.

Well, it did answer it, and the answer was reflective of a victim blaming mentality. So.

Y'all stop coming into my inbox with these types of questions. I'm done.

[lilahlovesjjk]

🇼​​🇭​​🇪​​🇳​ ​🇮​ ​🇬​​🇷​​🇴​​🇼​ ​🇺​​🇵

Chapter 6

synopsis: You and Satoru Gojo used to be inseparable—the kind of childhood best friends that promised to get married, rule the world, and never leave each other’s side.

Then life happened.

Now, years later, you’re both enrolled in the same elite psychology graduate program—only this time, you’re rivals. Gojo’s loud, flirty, obnoxiously charming, and infuriatingly good at everything. You're focused, sharp, constantly proving yourself—and desperate not to let the past (or him) throw you off course.

warnings: angst, slowburn (kinda), swearing, eventual nsfw, (i'll add to the list if I think of any more as the story progresses)

A/N: sorry about the long break from posting, i've been so busy!!

Gojo stepped outside, the door clicking shut behind him with a soft finality. The air out here was sharp with the chill of early spring, still heavy with the scent of spilled beer and damp concrete. Music from inside throbbed behind the walls—muffled bass, laughter, glass clinks, someone yelling lyrics off-key.

But it all felt far away.

His breath curled in front of him in small clouds, invisible when he exhaled too fast. He leaned against the railing, palms bracing himself, head tipped down. His fingers dug into the wood.

The kiss was still buzzing in his brain. The way your lips had tasted like peach-flavored vodka and something softer underneath. The way you’d touched him like you wanted him—not just to win an argument or shut him up, but really, wanted him.

And then you were gone. Pulled away. Just like that.

He didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to do with that.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

And then, without warning, memory slipped in like a fog at the edge of his mind—uninvited, but relentless.

It was raining that night. Not the dramatic movie kind, either. No lightning, no storm—just cold, steady sheets of rain falling like the world was trying to scrub itself clean.

Young Satoru Gojo stood on the sidewalk in his school uniform, soaked to the bone. His bag sagged with water, sneakers squelching when he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He couldn’t feel his fingers anymore. His glasses were fogged, sliding down his nose every few seconds.

The parking lot behind him was nearly empty now. Even the janitor had gone home.

They’d told him someone would come. His mother, maybe. His father, if the assistant remembered to pass along the message.

But the hour ticked by. Then another. And still… nothing.

He had stayed late for a school presentation. Some stupid talent showcase he hadn’t even wanted to do. His classmates had laughed when he recited his memorized speech about constellations and the history of the telescope. One teacher had clapped, too loudly. That was worse.

He hadn’t expected anyone to come watch. But he had expected someone to pick him up.

He hunched his shoulders under the awning of the closed school gate, shivering, teeth chattering. Every time headlights turned the corner, he straightened—hopeful. Every time they passed, he crumpled a little more.

Minutes stretched into hours.

And then—

Click.

His umbrella snapped shut as it finally gave up the fight against the wind. He didn’t even try to fix it. Just dropped it.

He was alone.

The thought echoed louder than the rain.

And louder still when he finally spoke, voice tiny and hoarse.

“I don’t need anyone anyway.”

It wasn’t true. Not really.

But he said it again. Louder.

“I don’t need anyone.”

And again, screaming it now, voice cracking, until it felt like maybe if he yelled it loud enough, the universe would believe him.

Because maybe then, it wouldn’t hurt so much.

(flashback over)

Gojo pressed a hand to his chest like he could still feel it—ten-year-old panic laced through adult bones. He swallowed, eyes glued to the darkness beyond the lawn. The past clung to him like wet fabric, suffocating.

He had built his whole life around not needing anyone after that.

Charm. Arrogance. That untouchable air. It kept people far enough away that they couldn’t leave. Couldn’t forget him on the curb in the rain.

But tonight—

He’d let you get close.

He’d let you kiss him, and worse—he’d kissed you back like it meant something.

Like he needed it.

Gojo exhaled harshly and ran a hand through his hair. The warmth of your body still lingered on his fingertips. He could still feel the weight of your hands fisting in his shirt, the soft noise you made when you deepened the kiss.

You were getting to him.

And he hated how much he didn’t hate it.

“God,” he muttered to himself, voice breaking in the stillness. “I’m so fucked.”

The door creaked open behind him.

Footsteps.

Not yours.

Just a couple people stumbling out for a smoke, laughing and oblivious. He turned away, eyes sharp again, expression back in place. Smirk on. Shoulders straight.

Gojo Satoru, the easygoing flirt, had returned.

But inside, his chest still ached like rainwater pooling in old shoes.

Your head is pounding.

Like someone took a drumline and set up camp behind your temples. You’re barely awake, blinking into the morning light like a dazed animal, one arm flopped dramatically over your face. The sharp scent of coffee drifts from the kitchen, which you’re ninety percent sure is the only thing keeping you from death.

Bits and pieces start coming back.

The music. The heat. Gojo. His hands sliding up your thighs, your back hitting the wall, his mouth—God. His mouth.

You groan, rolling over and dragging your blanket over your head like a burial shroud. Maybe if you stay here long enough, you’ll disappear. Maybe you’ll wake up in an alternate timeline where you didn’t throw yourself at your academic rival and make out with him like you were trying to crawl inside his skin.

Nope. Still here. Still horrifically, mortally embarrassed.

Footsteps pad into your room. There’s a light knock before Shoko pushes the door open, still wearing her eyeliner from last night, a mug in each hand and a knowing smirk plastered on her face.

“You look like roadkill,” she says, holding out one of the mugs. “Congrats.”

“Why are you alive right now?” you croak, peeking out from beneath the blanket. “And why are you smiling?”

“I’m thriving on the chaos,” Shoko replies, settling onto the edge of your bed. “That kiss was insane, by the way.”

You freeze. “Oh my God.”

“You kissed him like you were trying to shut him up for life. And don’t even lie—you liked it.”

“I didn’t—” You throw the blanket off entirely, sitting up with a wince. “It didn’t mean anything.”

Shoko raises a brow, sipping her coffee. “You keep telling yourself that, Casanova.”

You can feel the heat rushing to your cheeks. “I was drunk.”

“Not that drunk,” she counters, unbothered. “Look, I’ve known you since you cried over a dead fictional horse in that coming-of-age novel. I know when you’re spiraling.”

“I’m not spiraling.”

“You’re making the ‘I’ve emotionally imploded and now I must pretend it was a fever dream’ face.”

You scowl at her, dragging a hand through your hair. “What the hell am I supposed to do now? Pretend it didn’t happen?”

Before Shoko can answer, your phone vibrates on your nightstand.

You glance at it. One new message. From him.

Gojo: So… wall kisses are our new study method?

You throw the blanket back over your face with a muffled scream.

“Let me guess,” Shoko says casually. “He texted something flirty.”

“He said something about wall kisses.”

“Jesus. You’re doomed.” She sips her coffee like this is the best entertainment she’s had all semester.

“I can’t deal with this right now,” you groan. You grab your phone, hover your thumb over the screen… and leave him on read.

Shoko’s eyes gleam. “Oh, ruthless.”

“I’m pretending it didn’t happen,” you say, standing up and immediately regretting it as your brain throbs. “New day. New delusions.”

Meanwhile… Across Campus

Gojo Satoru stares at his phone like it’s personally betrayed him.

Left on read.

Left. On. Read.

He’s never been left on read. He is the text-flirting king. He’s the guy who sends stupid memes and girls giggle in class. He’s the one who takes ten seconds to charm a whole room. He is never ignored.

And yet.

“She’s ignoring me,” he mutters aloud, glaring at his phone as if the screen will suddenly deliver a better outcome. “After that kiss?”

Geto, lounging on their couch and scrolling through something on his own phone, looks up with a snort. “Welcome to consequences, lover boy.”

Gojo throws a chip at him.

Geto ducks it easily. “You’re the one who said ‘God, you look so hot right now’ like you were about to devour her.”

“She did look hot,” Gojo says defensively. “She was literally glowing.”

“Yeah, with repressed sexual tension and unresolved childhood issues. You two are a walking psych case study.”

Gojo slouches dramatically onto the couch. “It wasn’t supposed to feel like that.”

Geto glances over. “Feel like what?”

Gojo doesn’t answer.

Because the truth is: he can still feel her. In the curl of her fingers in his shirt. In the way her lips had pressed against his like she was daring him to ruin her.

And now she won’t text him back.

He throws his head back and groans. “What if I’m catching feelings?”

Geto doesn’t even blink. “You’ve been caught, my guy. You’re tangled in the net and halfway into the boat.”

Gojo groans louder.

The classroom feels colder today. Or maybe that’s just in your chest.

You’re already seated when Gojo walks in. A small part of you hopes he’ll be late. Another part—the stupid, soft part—leans toward the door the second it opens, heart lurching like it always does when it’s him.

He’s here.

White hair messy like he rolled out of bed too late to fix it, hoodie slouched off one shoulder, bag slung low. Effortlessly good-looking. Casually infuriating.

Your eyes drop instantly, back to your notebook. You don’t meet his gaze as he slides into the seat beside you.

There’s a beat of silence. Then—

“Wow,” Gojo says, low and teasing, “you’re seriously gonna pretend the wall didn’t happen?”

You don’t look at him. Don’t even flinch. “What happens at a party stays at a party.”

The words fall out too sharp, too fast. But you mean them. Or at least… you want to.

Gojo goes quiet.

You risk a glance from the corner of your eye. He’s looking straight ahead now, jaw tight, a flicker of something unreadable moving beneath the usual lightness in his expression. You can’t tell if it’s hurt, or confusion, or if you’re just projecting. Either way, he doesn’t say anything else.

Professor Yuki starts class with a few announcements, then transitions into the main activity—breakout discussion groups based on assigned topics. Of course, she pairs you and Gojo together.

Because of course.

You drag your desk toward his. He doesn’t meet your eye either.

The topic is printed at the top of the sheet she passes out: The Role of Defensive Mechanisms in Interpersonal Relationships.

God. Of course.

You both sit there for a moment, flipping through your packets like strangers. The silence is unbearable.

“So…” Gojo finally says, his voice light but frayed at the edges. “Want me to start, or are you gonna take the lead like always?”

You keep your eyes on the paper. “You’re good at deflection. Might as well put it to academic use.”

Another beat of silence. And then:

“Okay, seriously,” he says, a little sharper now. “What the hell is going on?”

“I’m trying to focus.”

“Bullshit.” His voice is quiet, but firm. “You won’t even look at me.”

You finally meet his gaze—and it’s like a punch to the gut. He’s still Gojo, still smug and smugly beautiful, but there’s something raw in his eyes now. Something unguarded. Vulnerable.

You swallow hard. “Can you just stop acting like everything is a joke?”

His expression flickers. And then… something cracks.

“I have to act like that, okay?” he says, not quite snapping, but close. “I don’t get to walk around being serious all the time. People don’t want serious. They want funny. They want entertaining. So that’s what I give them.”

You blink.

He’s looking at the table now, hands clenched around his pen.

“I don’t get to be the guy who sulks in the back of the room. I’m the one who makes everyone laugh. Who keeps it easy. And yeah, maybe I push it too far, but at least no one expects anything else from me.”

His voice is tight. Not angry—just tired. You’ve never heard him talk like this before.

“It’s easier,” he says after a moment, “to make things light than to admit you don’t know how to make them real.”

The words hang there, suspended in the heavy air between you. A small, traitorous part of you aches for him.

You don’t know what to say at first.

And then quietly, you say, “You don’t always have to be ‘on,’ you know.”

Gojo looks up.

For once, he doesn’t deflect. Doesn’t joke. He just watches you, eyes unreadable, like he’s not sure what to do with your honesty. Like it’s more intimate than anything else that passed between you—not even the kiss, not even the hands-on-skin heat of that night. Just this. You seeing him.

He clears his throat. “Yeah, well. Old habits.”

You don’t push him.

Instead, you shift in your seat, your knee brushing against his. He doesn’t pull away. Neither do you.

“We should probably start working,” you say eventually, voice soft.

“Right,” he says, and the moment breaks—gently, like something delicate being placed back down.

You turn back to the worksheet, and for the first time in the last twenty minutes, you feel like maybe—just maybe—this won’t break you.

Not if he lets you see him.

Not if you start letting him see you, too.

The late afternoon sun dipped low, casting long streaks of gold through the half-drawn blinds in the apartment. A soft breeze trickled in through the open window, bringing with it the distant sounds of the campus—laughter, footsteps, a car horn—but inside your room, it was still. Still, and way too loud in your own head.

You sat curled up on her bed, your laptop pushed to the side, textbooks open but untouched. Your phone was pressed to your ear, thumb picking at the edge of the comforter.

“…So, yeah,” you exhaled finally. “I kissed him. Or… I pushed him against a wall and made out with him like I was possessed. And then I just… ghosted.”

There was a pause on the other end before Geto's amused voice filtered through. “Damn. Possessed by what, sexual frustration?”

You groaned, sinking deeper into the pillows. “Don’t make me regret calling you.”

“I’m just saying. I knew you two had unresolved tension but I didn’t realize you were one tequila away from reenacting a bad romcom.”

You covered your eyes with the back of your hand. “It was a mistake. I was drunk, and he was—he’s just… Gojo.”

“You mean Satoru,” Geto said lightly, his tone shifting. “Your Gojo.”

You stiffened. “No. Not mine anything.”

“Okay, okay,” he said. “But come on, do you really think it meant nothing to him?”

“He hasn’t said anything. Not really.”

“Did you give him a chance to?”

Your silence was answer enough.

Geto sighed. “You know, for someone who studies human behavior, you’re remarkably bad at confronting your own.”

You scowled at the ceiling. “Thanks, Freud.”

“You’re welcome. Look, if it didn’t mean anything, he’d be acting like usual. But he’s not. He’s been weird. Quiet. And that guy doesn’t do quiet unless it’s serious.”

That shut you up for a beat.

“Just… talk to him,” Geto said more gently now. “You’ve been angry at him for so long. Maybe he deserves some of it. Maybe not all of it.”

You closed your eyes. “I don’t know if I’m ready to hear whatever reason he has.”

“I think you are,” he replied. “And I think he’s finally ready to say it.”

You didn’t answer. The call ended not long after, and you was left in the quiet again—until a knock at the door shattered it.

Three soft raps. Hesitant. Familiar.

Your breath caught. You stood slowly, crossing the living room with heavy steps. When you opened the door, you weren't surprised to see him there. Satoru Gojo, standing with his hands in his pockets, dressed in black and gray, hair wind-mussed, eyes guarded.

Neither of you spoke for a moment.

“Hey,” he said finally. His voice was rougher than usual, like it had to crawl its way out of his chest.

You blinked. “Hey.”

He glanced past her into the apartment. “Is now a bad time?”

You hesitated. Then stepped back. “Come in.”

He walked past you, carefully avoiding any of the usual swagger. The air was thick with things unsaid.

“I was just…” you started, then let it trail off. “Talking to Geto.”

His mouth twitched. “Yeah. He said you might want to punch me.”

You lifted a brow. “Depends on what you say next.”

Gojo ran a hand through his hair, then sat on the arm of the couch, elbows on knees. He stared at the floor for a second.

“I used to wait for my parents after school,” he said, voice low. “Like—like a lot of kids, right? Except… they didn’t show. Not once. Ever. I’d be the only one left outside in the rain, or the cold. I remember once, after a talent show, I sat outside in the pouring rain for almost an hour before I decided to just walk home.”

The image hit you like a punch to the chest.

“I remember thinking,” he went on, quieter now, “if I just didn’t need anyone, I wouldn’t be disappointed. If I didn’t get close to people, they couldn’t forget about me. Couldn’t leave me behind.”

Her throat felt dry. You stayed quiet.

“When we were kids,” he said, lifting his eyes to meet hers, “you were the one person I let in. Like, really let in. That night in the field, talking about growing up, promising things we couldn’t understand yet—I meant it. But then middle school hit and I panicked. I figured you’d outgrow me too. That it’d hurt less if I was the one who walked away.”

“You didn’t even say goodbye,” you whispered, voice shaking.

“I know.” His eyes were glassy. “I was a coward. I thought I was protecting myself. But really, I just hurt you. And I’ve been trying to act like nothing ever happened, because if I admit what I did, I don’t know if you’ll ever look at me the same way again.”

You took a slow step forward. “You left me wondering what I did wrong. If I said something. If I wasn’t enough.”

He stood. “You were too enough. That was the problem. I didn’t know how to handle someone who actually gave a damn.”

You reached up slowly and touched his cheek. “I still give a damn.”

His eyes fluttered shut at the contact. Your hand dropped, and you stepped close—barely a breath between you two now.

You lifted your hand, more gently now, and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his forehead.

Gojo’s breath caught, his body visibly melting under the quiet tenderness of it.

When you pulled away, he didn’t open his eyes right away. Just breathed in slow.

“I’m trying,” he said softly. “To be better. To be someone you can trust again.”

You rested her forehead briefly against his shoulder. “You’re on thin ice, Gojo.”

He let out a shaky laugh. “Noted.”

You two stood like that for a moment longer, surrounded by the dim warmth of the apartment and the ghosts of a childhood too long buried.

Then you stepped back, folding your arms. “You want tea?”

He grinned, eyes still a little shiny. “Only if it comes with more forehead kisses.”

You rolled your eyes and walked toward the kitchen. “Push your luck and I’ll revert to punching.”

“Worth it,” he called after you, and for the first time in a long while, it wasn’t a mask. It was real. Raw. And hopeful.

@linaaeatsfamilies @eolivy @whiter4bbitcorner

@oricaked @mullermilkshake @j3llyc4kes

[wakebymoonsleepbysun]

Untitled Spamton X Reader fic Ch1

The stress of election night made me cave and start writing a self-indulgent Spamton x Reader fic...that I was hoping to finish that night but as you can see it took me a bit longer because writing 6k words in one night is hard. T_T

Anyway, he's my entry into the genre of "Reader finds Spamton in a dumpster and takes him home" fics. Maybe there's room for one more in that category? 🥺

Not sure if/when I'll continue working on this but uh. Here y'all go.

(Also sorry I spend the first few paragraphs writing an actual vent post about my actual job adfajdafjdal)

------

Today hasn’t exactly been noteworthy. It’s just another day, like so many you’ve had before. Wake up, trudge over to your desk, sign on to work, pretend you’ve been awake for at least an hour longer than you have been, and rub the sleep out of your eyes while you gnosh on a cereal bar because (as usual) you don’t have time to make anything else before your morning meetings start.

You pay no more or less attention than usual, picking away at your own tasks while two of your coworkers have an in depth discussion on something you probably don’t need to concern yourself with. With your camera off they are left to assume you’re listening just as raptly as they’d wish you to.

The meeting ends and you dive fully into your work. You enjoy programming. The product itself (some productivity-helper app that’s not much different than dozens of others) is not of particular interest to you. You don’t even use it in your personal life--only for checking on work-related things.

You get a ping from a coworker. The dev environment is down. Again. He doesn’t know how to fix it. He heard you do?

You suppress a sigh that he wouldn’t’ve heard through the screen anyway.

You fixed it once, about a year ago, out of desperation. It had been an easy fix but somehow it had been enough to convince people you Knew What You Were Doing, and a couple more fixes later, you found yourself in the unenviable position of “The Guy (gender-neutral)”. 

You close several windows and open several more, your previous task for the day forgotten. Two more people ping you. Did you know the dev environment is down? Yes. Your boss pings you. Did you know? Of course you know.

You dive back into the spaghetti code you still don’t fully understand. The person who wrote it left six months ago. You follow a thread of convoluted logic, only to lose your train of thought when another colleague messages you.

Did you know?

YES.

Line by line, search query after search query, you toil to untangle the mess.

And suddenly find your own code staring you back in the face. The very first fix you’d made had been defective. Impermanent. A flimsy rubber band that had finally snapped.

You frown. You wonder what you’d been thinking when you’d fixed it before. The flaw in your approach seems obvious now. And yet somehow it had been good enough for you to be crowned “The Guy (gender-neutral)”. 

You sure weren’t “The Guy (gender-neutral)” then…but maybe you are now. Or close to it.

A couple more keystrokes and dev is back in business.

…It’s also the middle of the night, your colleagues have signed off, and you forgot to eat dinner. Again.

You crash down from the high of your accomplishment--deflated, hungry, and tired. You message chat that everything’s fixed but you’ll be late tomorrow, and close your work computer.

How had you worked for twelve hours without even noticing? Maybe you like programming more than you thought.

You’re not sure how you feel about that.

You rise from your chair with a tired groan, padding out to the kitchen.

…Where you promptly see--and worse, smell--the bag of trash you meant to take out this morning.

“Ugggghhhh…” you groan in disgust and self-pity, your shoulders slumping.

You grumble to yourself in frustration as you pull on your coat, grab the bag roughly by the handles as if it had any more say its fate than you, and proceed to name-drop every one of your coworkers in your mumblings as you make your way down four flights of stairs.

…Only to realize it’s raining. Not exactly a downpour--light enough that you didn’t hear it from your apartment, but heavy enough that you’ll definitely be soaked if you try to get to the dumpster.

Whatever. You’re not lugging the trash bag back up the stairs only to get your umbrella. You were going to change into your PJs while dinner was cooking anyway.

You grit your teeth and cross the dimly lit parking lot to the three-wall, roofless structure that contains the dumpsters and recycling bins. 

The rain in your eyes, the dim lighting, and your own grim determination to be done with your task almost cause you to miss it, but as you’re attempting to dry your hands before stuffing them back in your coat pockets, you see it.

A small white boot sticking out from the gap between the dumpster and the enclosure. You’re not sure what draws you to it--at first you think it’s just an old discarded piece of clothing that fell out of the overflowing bin.

Your gut instinct realizes what your conscious mind hasn’t yet, forcing you to take a step towards it and get a closer look.

Your stomach twists as you realize the boot is definitely still attached to something. At first you think it’s a child, but the figure’s odd proportions dismiss the idea before you can even so much as cry out in alarm.

The head accounts for about a third of the height, and the shoulders are strangely broad, with the legs being rather short in proportion. Though all that is trivial compared to the distinctly inhuman face.

Well…it’s probably meant to be based on a human, you realize, but it certainly isn’t one. The large mouth is fixed in a permanent, uncannily huge grin, and the pointed nose is cartoonishly long. A pair of glasses cover the eyes, the lenses of which are currently dark.

It’s too big to be a doll. A ventriloquist puppet, maybe? The jaw looks articulated in the way that such puppets usually are. Not that you know much about puppets or puppetry.

But you think they’re usually expensive…though price aside, even this scuffed up, damaged figure seems deserving of a fate better than being tossed into some dumpster. You’ve always been the sentimental sort who feels sorry for lost and damaged toys, despite knowing full well that they’re not “real”.

Someone had once believed they were, and then they just…stopped.

You shake off the melancholy thought with a literal shake of your head, flinging raindrops from your hair. 

You crouch down beside the puppet, tucking your hands under its arms and hoisting it up, only to nearly drop it as your grip fumbles. It’s way heavier than you’d expected! You’d assumed ventriloquist puppets were mostly hollow, but this one certainly isn’t. Maybe your assumption had just been wrong?

It’s going to be more of a pain to lug this thing back to your apartment, but well…in for a penny, in for a pound. Or fifty. Whichever.

There’s also something a bit odd about its joints…its limbs don’t flop around as much as you’d expect, but you chalk that up to the joints being partially stuck.

You carry it upright, your arms around its waist while its arms drape over your shoulders. You swear you hear a slight groan from it as you push the stairwell door open with your hip. It must have a voice box? Did puppets usually have those? Either way, the low, droning suggested the batteries were almost dead. 

You finally make it up to your unit. If it hadn’t been raining you’d’ve been drenched with sweat now. As it is, it’s probably still mostly rainwater, but you try not to think about how much of a sweat you worked up carrying the heavy thing upstairs. 

You kick the door shut behind you, flinching when it closes a bit louder than you’d meant it to. You take the puppet to the kitchen, laying it on its back on the counter. Or trying to…one of its hands gets caught on the hood of your jacket. When you reach up to pull it free, you realize the joints of the hand had curled in at some point, gripping the hoodie.

There’s something…off about that, about this whole thing, but…it’s just a puppet…right?

There’s nothing else it could be, really…

You remove your jacket, tossing it over the back of one of the dining chairs for now. There’s really no reason for you to tend to the puppet before yourself, but…

You grab a paper towel and begin wiping the grime and rainwater from its face, occasionally glancing at the darkened glasses that obscure its eyes. What an odd looking thing…but puppets often are.

You can’t quite tell what it’s made of. Wood or plastic are your best guesses but neither of them quite fit. It has the smooth rigidness of plastic but somehow, paradoxically, it also seems somewhat organic and is a bit warmer than you’d expect a rain soaked toy to be. The material’s even a bit malleable. The nose even has a bit of give, you realize as you push on it experimentally, bending it downwards. Foam, maybe?

As you push on the nose, the head abruptly turns away, and another low, rattly moan plays from the voice box.

With a gasp, you quickly pull away. Does…this thing have some kind of mechanism to move on its own? Maybe it’s only meant to look like a puppet, but is actually more of a robotic toy? That would explain the weight, you suppose…

But it certainly adds to the mystery of why anyone would throw it away.

You cup its cheek in one hand as you use the other to wipe some grime from its hair.

Your gaze drifts downward and you realize its clothes should probably be removed and hung up to dry.

…Why does that thought cause your face to heat up? You’ve fixed up old dolls and toys before, with no particular regard for their modesty.

You’re just tired. You’re tired and had a stressful day and it’s making you just a bit silly. That’s all.

You reach down and start attempting to remove the puppet’s blazer. Before you can undo the first button, though, its arm shoots up, its small hand wrapping around your wrist.

“[[ Showroom model only--not available for purchase! ]] [[ Break it you buy it!! ]]” Two audio clips in two different voices play from somewhere within the puppet.

You scream in surprise, pulling back so quickly you accidentally drag the puppet off the counter before it can let go of your wrist. You don’t fare much better as your heel catches on the leg of a dining chair, causing you to land hard on your rear.

You place a hand over your chest, trying to calm yourself. There’s a rational explanation for the puppet’s movement on the tip of your tongue, but it flies out the window almost immediately.

The puppet stirs. His glasses go from black to grey static as he lifts a hand to his forehead, struggling to get his bearings. The corners of his mouth are turned down in what you guess must be the closest thing to a frown he can muster with his large, semi-permanent grin. 

“Wh-What the hell…” you breathe in a strained whisper.

“[[ Temp--Temp--Temporarily out of service!! ]]” This audio clip is yet another voice. It sounds like the clip was originally recorded in a peppy, upbeat tone, but the playback is so low and garbled you can’t help but compare it to someone at the brink of death struggling to speak.

The puppet goes limp once again, the grey static on his glasses fading back to black. He’s collapsed on the floor, laying on his side in a growing puddle of rainwater as it slowly runs off his clothes.

You stare at him in stunned silence for several moments.

It’s mechanical. Robotic. A weird toy robot…thing…with low batteries and probably a busted circuit board or two.

It’s not alive.

But why would an expensive toy robot be in the dumpster?

Why would a living puppet be in the dumpster???

Your brain’s just fried from work. You need rest. And probably food. The puppet can wait.

You bite your lip. He’s not alive, but…that’s no reason to just leave him on the floor, right?

You quickly grab one of your fluffy bath towels from the linen closet and wrap the puppet in it, carrying him to the living room and laying him on the couch with far more respect and dignity than a totally-not-alive puppet actually needs, even putting one of your throw pillows under his head.

The rainwater’s going to soak through the towel and you’ll have a damp sofa by the time you finish dinner, but…well. It’ll dry. Whatever.

Still…you take a moment to look him over again as you kneel beside the couch. You place a hand on his cheek, turning his head slightly towards yourself. The grimace from before seems to have relaxed into a fairly neutral smile…you guess that must be his “default” expression.

You brush a few stray locks of hair from his face, then adjust his arms so that his hands are atop his chest--a more comfortable resting position than them splayed haphazardly beside him. As you do, you lightly grip one of his hands. It’s a bit smaller than your own, and the joints are fully articulated, giving it the same range of motion as a human hand.

The hand twitches and you quickly drop it. It lands with a soft thud atop his chest.

Enough silliness. You can look over the puppet once you get your head together.

You go into the bathroom, finally stripping out of your wet clothes and hanging them on the curtain rod to dry before changing into your PJs--some flannel lounge pants and an oversize T-shirt. As you walk back to the kitchen, you glance at the puppet on your couch, but force yourself not to stop and check on him again.

You hope some mac and cheese will pull you out of whatever temporary insanity working for twelve hours straight has inflicted upon you.

*

Spamton stirs as the sound of the soft thudding of a wooden spoon stirring a pot of boiling pasta reaches him.

Where…is he? The towel slides off him as he sits up, and he glances at it curiously, running his thumb over the soft, fluffy fabric. There was never anything this nice in the dumpster, that’s for sure.

But he’s also clearly not in his dumpster. He takes in the sight of your dimly lit apartment, the only light coming from the kitchen.

It doesn’t quite look like any sort of Cyber City apartment he’s ever seen. He can’t quite put his finger on why, but…after a second of thought, the word “mundane” pops into his mind. This place is more mundane than any part of Cyber City he’s ever been to. Though…he supposes he’s really only seen the highest highs and lowest lows…maybe the middle tiers of the city are a bit more mundane. It would make a certain amount of sense, though he can’t help but think the answer’s more complicated than that.

He slides off the couch, looking towards the light spilling from the kitchen.

“Mundane” aside, how’d he get into any apartment? As desperate as he’d gotten, he’d never committed B & E…at least for the purpose of sleeping on some stranger’s couch. And how long has it been since anyone had invited him into their home?

How long has it been since…anything?

Spamton wracks his brain, trying to pull up his most recent memory, whatever he was doing before he ended up here. The last thing he can remember--clearly, anyway--is just sitting in his dumpster in the back alleys of Cyber City, about to doze off.

But…somehow that memory seems like it was from long ago. Weeks, at least. And there are glimpses of something more recent that he can’t quite place.

Green wires.

The rollercoaster, with three carts speeding towards him.

A blue-haired, blue-skinned Lightner.

The latter, he had no idea who they were…and that thought caused a pang of guilt in his chest. They were…important. Why couldn’t he remember?

His gaze drifts back towards the kitchen and he slowly steps towards it.

How do you fit into any of this, he wonders?

*

You’re pouring the pasta and water into the strainer when you hear a sound behind you.

The quiet click of hard-soled shoes on kitchen tile.

You turn to glance behind you, more out of instinct than any expectation to actually see anything.

The puppet is up and walking towards you, a sight so shocking on its own that you don’t even notice the curious, borderline timid expression on his face, nor the way his hands are raised slightly as if to assure you he means no harm.

You wish you’d simply frozen at the sight of him.

Instead, your fatigued, nervous, downright jittery brain panics immediately, spinning fully to face him, despite the pot of boiling water in your hand. Lucky for you it’s nearly empty, but “nearly” is still enough for a decent sized splash to land on your bare forearm.

You cry out in pain, clutching your burned arm to your chest as you collapse onto the floor, your back pressed against the cabinets as you stare wide-eyed at the puppet.

“WOAH !! RELAX [[ valued customer ]]!!” the puppet speaks, his voice far clearer than it had been before. Though there’s still a slight static to it, as if it’s being played over a worn out speaker. “[[ Apologies for the inconvenience ]], I’M NOT--”

Spamton cuts himself off when he realizes you’re now staring down at your burned arm. Your hands are shaking as you stare at your blistering skin, tears of pain--and probably fear--welling in your eyes.

“[[ It Burns! Ow! Stop! Help Me! It Burns! ]]”

Your gaze snaps back to him. “What?!” you yelp, incredulous despite the bizarreness of the situation. Why’s he acting like he’s the one who got burned?

No sooner than the thought enters your head than you notice his slack expression, his glasses once again going staticy. But once again, things seem to pivot on a dime and he snaps out of it so fast you wonder if you weren’t just seeing things.

“SORRY!!” he says, holding up his hands. “DIDN’T MEAN TO [[ all kinds of surprises!! ]] YOU!!”

Spamton steps towards you and you shrink back against the cabinets. He takes the hint and backs off, still holding up his hands. After a brief pause, he snaps his fingers, and to your utter astonishment, a miniature, cherub-like version of himself appears and flitters towards you.

You’re too stunned at the sight to even consider pulling away, your jaw going slack as you watch the little creature land weightlessly on your arm and gently pat the blistering, reddening skin. A wave of green sparkly lights washes over your injury and the burns, along with the cherub, disappear.

A one word question echoes in your mind and you can’t help but speak it aloud in a strained, wavering voice.

“Magic…?”

Spamton dips his head in a nod. He holds up a hand, and the cherub reappears, perching on his finger and giving you a little wave. “YEP! JUST A [[ simple, one-stop solution ]] FOR [[ all your routine medical needs ]],” he says, dismissing the cherub with a wave of his hand. He hesitates, then steps towards you again. When you don’t flinch away, he closes the distance between you two, lightly touching your arm.

“NO MORE [[ It Burns! ]]?”

“U-Uhm,” you stammer. The way his voice sounds so pained when switching to the “It Burns” line is unnerving…you guess it’s just a soundbyte, that he’s not actually feeling the pain or distress the voice line suggests. His expression certainly seems to hold genuine concern, despite the semi-permanent smile. “Y-Yeah…I…” You glance down at his hand on your arm.

He really did heal it. Just like that. The pain and blistering just…gone in an instant. You’d guess you were dreaming, but…there’s no way you’d sleep through such intense pain, imagined or not.

“You…do magic,” you say weakly. The laugh you let out borders on manic. “I mean sure, why wouldn’t you do magic?”

Either he doesn’t notice your sarcasm or chooses to ignore it, for he takes a step back, grinning and puffing out his chest. “WHY NOT INDEED? SPAM   SPAMTON G. SPAMTON [[ #1 Rated Salesman 1997 ]] IS A MAN OF [[ dozens of unique skills ]]!” he declares.

“S-Spamton? That’s…your name?” you ask.

He grins, pointing at you while a DING DING DING chime plays, his glasses lenses switching colors on every beat. “AND [[ who do I have the pleasure of speaking to? ]]”

You tell him your name, still dazed.

He stays silent, canting his head and looking up at you uncertainly, seemingly waiting for you to recover.

“Wh-What are you?” you blurt abruptly.

Spamton blinks, but far from being offended at the question, he tosses his head back and lets out a hearty laugh. “HEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” The cadence is a bit faster than a human would typically laugh, almost like the rapid fire of a machine gun…but as laughs go it’s far from unpleasant. “[[ Doll ]] I WAS JUST ABOUT TO [[ Ask Away! ]] YOU THE SAME THING!!”

You blink. “Um. I-I’m…a human. Surely…you’ve seen humans before?”

“OF COURSE!! [[ And don’t call me Shirly ]],” he quips. “BUT I’M NOT SEEING ANY [[ Heart-shaped Object ]].”

“H-Heart shaped object?” you repeat, absently rubbing at your chest. You assume he’s not talking about your actual heart.

“YOU’RE NO DARK >n3R…NOT A LIGHT >n3R EITHER?” he asks, canting his head curiously.

“I-I…I mean I guess not, not that…that I know of?” you say helplessly.

You’re a bit surprised he’s the one questioning you. It hadn’t occurred to you that he’d be just as confounded by his situation as you are.

“IS THIS THE DARK WORLD OR LIGHT WORLD?”

You stare blankly. “I…I don’t know? Neither, I…I think?”

“SO THEN…WH    WHERE IN THE [[ Tri-County Area ]] AM I?”

You stammer a moment, not even sure what sort of answer he’d want for that. “M-My apartment?” you say inanely. At his deadpan, unimpressed look you tell him the name of your city, and when that doesn’t ring a bell, you add your state.

He frowns, tapping his chin with one hand.

“Where are you from, then?”

“CYBER CITY, IN THE DARK WORLD.”

“Doesn’t sound like any place near here…I-Is it…really an entirely different world?”

“[[ Survey Says: ]] YES.”

It’s as likely as anything else. Living puppet with healing magic…why not add world-hopping on top of that at this point?

“[[ You may ask yourself, well, how did I get here? ]]”

“I…don’t know. I mean, I found you in a dumpster and brought you up here. I have no idea where you were before that…”

“BROUGHT ME [[ all the way up ]] HERE? WHY?”

“I um. Well,” you shift uncomfortably. “I…uh, thought you were a toy or puppet or something…”

“TOY NO, PUPPET YES,” he says. As he admits it, his glasses briefly go staticy and his smile fades, but he quickly shakes it off. “SO, DUMPSTER DIVING FOR [[ marketable goods ]], EH?” he chuckles.

“N-No! It was just--” You bite back your protest. You probably should have just said yes. It’s probably less silly than your real reason. At his expectant look, you feel your cheeks heat up. “I-I just…I like…fixing up old toys and it’s just…k-kinda…sad to see them get abandoned…and you just seemed too--” You cut yourself off again. You should have stopped a sentence or two ago, but once again Spamton is looking at you curiously and you feel compelled to complete your statement. “--F-Fancy…to just…be tossed in some landfill…”

You can see his eyes blink in surprise behind his glasses. His slightly open mouth closes with an audible clack and he chuckles. “WELL I AM A BIT OF A [[ Mr. Fancy-Pants ]]...OR AT LEAST I WAS,” he adds, his grin seeming to fade slightly.

A beat of silence passes as he seems to get lost in his own head for a moment, and you think you start to see bits of static appearing in his glasses. The corners of his mouth start to droop as his smile fades.

“W-Well, nothing a bit of mending won’t fix, right?” you say, assuming he’s only referring to his torn up suit and some of the scuffs on his face and hands.

Spamton snaps out of whatever trance he’s in, looking at you in confusion for a moment before his previous smile returns. 

“...RIGHT. WELL, ANYWAY [[ doll ]], THANKS FOR THE [[ solid assist ]] BUT IT’S ABOUT TIME I [[ hit the road ]].”

You blink. “Um. What?”

He raises a brow. “[[ Hit the road ]], [[ Make like a tree and leaf ]], [[ head off into the sunset in your brand-new cungadero ]]?”

You can’t help but blurt out an incredulous, “To where?” Your cheeks warm and you glance away awkwardly, rubbing your arm. “I-I mean, n-not that it’s any of my business, but…a minute ago you didn’t even know what world you’re in…”

Spamton stares at you a moment before throwing his head back in another laugh. “HEAHAHAHAHA!!” You can’t help but notice the laugh seems a bit forced. “[[ Doll ]], DON’T YOU KNOW A TRUE [[ #1 Salesman 1997 ]] WILL [[ never give up, never surrender!! ]]?”

You finally manage to give a weak smile. “Well…that’s all well and good, but…do you even have a plan?”

“DO YOU?”

“Heh,” you chuckle nervously. “N-Not…a super long term one, but…I’d uh…I’d…feel bad sending you away like this…drenched and dirty with nowhere to go…”

His head tilts slightly to one side as he regards you. “WILLING TO MAKE A [[ Specil Deal ]], [[ doll ]]?”

You blink at his phrasing. “I…don’t know about a deal, but…I-I mean…you can…crash here for tonight? Get washed up, dry your clothes at least?”

“AND WHAT”S THE [[ payment method required ]]?”

“No payment!” you say quickly. “Just…”

“[[ Complimentary service ]]?”

You laugh slightly. “Exactly.”

He considers, rubbing his chin as he tries to figure out what possible catch there could be. Finally, he holds out a hand. “[[ Terms & Conditions Accepted !! ]]”

You let out a more earnest laugh, nodding. “Alright, Spamton,” you say, wrapping your hand around his and giving a hearty handshake.

Spamton steps back, glancing around at the mess you’d made. The pan had clattered to the floor, and there was a puddle of spilled water and a few stray noodles on the floor. Luckily dinner itself is salvageable--the majority of the noodles are still safely in the strainer in the sink.

“[[ Tired of cleaning up after dinner? Why not let -- ]] YOUR [[ good pal ]] SPAMTON TAKE CARE OF THAT?” he offers, going over to pick up the pan, handing it to you as you finally get to your feet.

“Thanks, but…” You lift your gaze past him, seeing the muddy footprints he’s tracked into the kitchen. You smile weakly. “Maybe you should get yourself tidied up first? The bathroom’s just down the hall, I can finish up in here while you shower?”

He follows your gaze to the dirt he’s tracked into the kitchen, then smiles up at you sheepishly. “GOOD POINT. BUT WHY DON”T WE [[ get the best of both worlds ]]?” He snaps his fingers, and two cherubs appear. They smile cutely at you before one of them flies down to the ground to begin gathering the spilled noodles and the other pulls the towel off the oven handle and drapes it over the puddle.

“Heh…s-sounds good…” you say, once again caught off guard by his ability to just…manifest helpful little creatures.

The cherubs finish cleaning while you shake the last of the water from the pasta strainer, rinse out the pan, and start mixing the cheese in with the noodles.

They finish the cleanup before you finish the cooking, and all you have to do is open the cupboard so they can toss the floor noodles away.

“Um, thanks guys?” you say uncertainly.

Their little grins get even wider at your praise and they perch on the edge of the stove, watching you stir the noodles.

You notice they seem to be watching a bit…intently. Their heads bop slightly as they track the motion of the spoon, the reflective pink and yellow lenses on their glasses making it hard to read their expressions.

“Hey uh…m-maybe this is a weird question…” Though you wonder if anything’s a weird question when posed to a pair of tiny puppet cherubs summoned by a magic living puppet from another world. “D’you two…get hungry?”

Their attention perks to you so raptly that you have to assume the answer is a firm yes.

You chuckle weakly at that, scooping out a spoonful of noodles and blowing on it. “D’you like mac and cheese?”

They nod eagerly, making a squeaky trilling sound as they abruptly take off towards the spoon.

“H-Hey! Careful, it’s hot!” you say, holding up a hand to try to block them before they burn themselves.

Your attempt fails, but it doesn’t seem to matter. They dart around your hand and perch on either side of the spoon, greedily shoving the cheesy noodles into their mouths. If the heat is even remotely uncomfortable to them, they’re not showing any sign of it.

“Guess you were hungry…” you say, amused. You grab a piece of paper towel and wrap it around your finger, wiping the cheese from their faces. They make a faint sound of protest, the red on their cheeks growing a bit redder at your attention.

You set the spoon aside and turn the stove to low to keep the food warm. “I’d better check on Spamton,” you say to the cherubs.

As you walk down the hall to the bathroom, you hear the shower switch off and the door opens. A faint cloud of steam emerges, followed closely by Spamton.

One of your hand towels is wrapped around his waist and the other is around his shoulders. He’s using the corner of said towel to wipe the steam from his glasses lenses. Locks of damp hair fall across his forehead and cling to his neck and shoulders, a few droplets running down his bare chest.

His shoulders are wider than you’d expected--seems his blazer isn’t as padded as you’d assumed. His whole frame on the stocky side, and he has a slightly protruding gut that hadn’t really been noticeable under his blazer.

You wish you could blame the cloud of warm steam for your burning face.

“HEY [[ doll ]], WOULD YOU HAPPEN TO HAVE A [[ clean-pressed ]] [[ size L T-shirt ]] I COULD BORROW? MY BLAZER IS--” He places his glasses back on his face and cuts himself off when he notices you staring.

A beat of uncertain silence passes before you snap out of it. “Oh! U-U-Uh--Of course!” you squeak. “L-Let me just grab that for you!” you say quickly. You duck into your bedroom without waiting for a response, grabbing one of a large T-shirt and a pair of boxers. You’re not sure how well either will fit him, but you’ve got nothing better to offer right now.

When you get back to the bathroom, he’s standing on the counter in front of a portion of the mirror he’d wiped the fog from. He’s helped himself to one of your combs and is brushing his damp hair from his face.

You try not to look him in the eye--or anywhere else--as you pass him the clothing.

“THANKS, [[ doll ]]!” he says brightly.

You nod, mumbling some lame excuse about needing to check on the food before scurrying back to the kitchen.

When you get there, you see the cherubs have been busy. The table’s been set, and they’ve even taken a couple throw pillows from the couch and piled them on one of the chairs for Spamton. Glancing into the living room, you notice they even refolded the towel Spamton had been wrapped in.

“Oh, thanks guys!” you say, earning another set of happy squeaks from the little pair.

You busy yourself with dishing out the macaroni, and by the time you’re done, Spamton’s emerged from the bathroom.

The PJs you lent him are…suitable. They hang a bit awkwardly on him, but given how different your body shapes are it’s a miracle you had anything that was even remotely wearable for him.

“THANKS AGAIN FOR THE [[ brand-new threads ]] AND [[ hearty, nutritious dinner ]]!” he says, effortlessly hopping up onto the chair and taking his seat. He looks at the bowl of macaroni before him and hesitates, looking up at you uncertainly…perhaps even guiltily. “AND…YOU”RE SURE ALL THIS IS [[ complimentary service ]]?” 

“Sure,” you say easily. “The little guys certainly seemed hungry…I’m…guessing you are too?”

Spamton gives the two cherubs--who are now sitting on the table between you two--a disapproving look. “MANNERS,” he says, pointing the spoon at them accusingly.

You laugh, waving a hand. “Oh no, they were very polite!” you say. A bit overeager, and a bit messy in their own eating, but in your mind all the extra cleaning they did more than makes up for it.

“GOOD,” he says, waving a hand. And with that, the two cherubs disappear, leaving only a few green sparkles in their wake.

“Oh…you didn’t have to send them away…” you say.

Spamton chuckles. “THEY WERE SLEEPY.”

You give a bemused laugh. “I…see. You’d know best I suppose,” you concede. “I’ve never even seen magic before today…”

He glances up in surprise. “NO? NOT EVER?”

“Not real magic, no. Not like…healing burns and conjuring cherubs,” you say.

“MINITONS,” he corrects.

“Pardon?”

“MINITONS. MINI SPAMTONS,” he clarifies with a playful smirk.

“Oh!” you laugh. “That’s…actually kinda cute,” you say.

Spamton gives you a wry look. “IT’S MEANT TO BE [[ concise and informative ]], NOT [[ adorable ]],” he says, though despite his look he sounds more amused than exasperated.

“It can be both,” you retort.

“IF YOU INSIST,” he says with a good natured eye roll.

The conversation ceases as he digs into his meal. His manners are much better than the Minitons of course, but he can’t completely hide the urgency with which he eats…though he does decline your offer of seconds, you sense it’s more out of a sense of guilt at how much you’ve given him than him actually being full.

And possibly being too tired to eat any more. Even with his glasses you can see his eyelids starting to droop by the time he drops his spoon into the empty bowl. But as soon as you get up and make as if to take the dishes to the sink, he snaps back to life.

“WAIT!!” he says, hopping up to stand on his chair, grabbing his bowl before reaching up and taking yours out of your hand. “SINCE YOU COOKED [[ delicis 5-Star meal ]] I’LL [[ cleans and polishes your dishes with a sparkling shine, guaranteed no food residue ]]!!” He grins up at you. “IT’S THE [[ bare minimum as required by law ]].” He blinks at the last part of the statement, his smile turning markedly sheepish. Apparently those little phrases don’t always come out sounding quiiiiite how he wants.

You take it in stride, laughing. “It’s alright, Spamton, really.”

“I INSIST!” he insists, hopping down from his chair and pushing it towards the sink.

“W-Well…I suppose it’s fair…I’ll get the couch set up for you, then,” you say, assuming he’ll want to turn in for the night after he finishes the dishes.

*

Spamton isn’t sure why you’re so keen on helping him, but…he also can’t afford to say no. He assumes he’ll be on his way tomorrow…even though he still doesn’t have an answer to the question you posed earlier.

To where?

He has no idea how to get back to the Dark World, and he gets the feeling he’s not exactly going to fit seamlessly into this one.

If he were more awake, anxiety would be gnawing at him, but even his anxieties are too tired for that right now.

He finishes the dishes, and despite his fatigue he does get them spotless as promised.

He hops down from the chair, forgetting to push it back to the table, and trudges tiredly into the living room.

Spamton stops, staring in surprise at what he sees.

Apparently your couch has a pullout bed, which you’ve set up with two blankets and a couple plush pillows, despite the fact that the couch itself had been more than big enough for him to sleep on. Hell, he could have scraped by with just one of those pillows to curl up on for the night.

“ALL THIS FOR [[ lil’ ol’ me ]]?” he asks, stunned as you finish fluffing the second pillow and toss it into place.

You shrug. “Sure, why not? I got a pullout couch for a reason,” you say. “Besides, the cushions were still damp, and the mattress is a bit more comfortable, I think.”

Spamton looks up at you uncertainly, his mouth opening and closing a couple times. Insisting that the couch is fine would only mean you having to re-fold the pullout bed. He runs a hand over the soft blankets, far cleaner and softer than any bedding he’s had in a long time. “[[ …thank you… ]]”

Your cheeks warm at the quiet sincerity in his tone. “No problem, Spamton…” you say softly. “I-I’ll um…see you in the morning, then?”

He hops onto the bed, scooting to the pillow and pulling the blanket back. “YES. OF COURSE, [[ doll ]].”

You nod, readily giving him his space and heading to your own room and climbing into your own bed.

You’d said he could stay for the night, but in reality, you have the same doubts Spamton does…and if anything, you have a more realistic idea of how unrealistic it is for him to just…leave and make his way in the world.

A conversation to have over breakfast, you suppose.